Darren Celebrates His Birthday

There was a small pencil sketch of Darren and Stan sharing a pillow as they slept.

"A bit creepy," joked Darren.

"Oi!" said Connor. "I drew you two sleeping a couple of times. That was my best effort."

Darren kept unpacking the mementoes Connor had collected.

There was a woven friendship bracelet Stan had given Darren, which he'd thought he'd lost. There was a silver key. Darren held it up.

"What's this for?"

"The chastity cage I won't be using again," said Connor. "Christ, could you imagine if I forgot this was where I'd left the key?"

He laughed, and Darren shook his head and rolled his eyes. He could see Connor doing that on purpose, but not by mistake.

There was a note Darren had written to Connor and left taped to his door, saying he'd be back.

"Why is this here?" he asked.

Connor took the note from him. "This was a bad week," he said. "Stan was away, and..." He paused the thought. "And it was good to know that, even though I didn't answer the door, you were coming back."

Darren took it gently from his fingers and laid it on the blanket, weighing it down with a small stone to stop the weak breeze lifting it and tossing it away.

There were tickets to a couple of concerts Stan had bought for Connor and himself, and tickets to a movie all three had seen together.

There was a memory stick; "More photos," said Connor, "And music, movies. In case we forget, and our tastes change. We can look back and laugh at ourselves."

Lastly, pushed into the bottom of the box, was a square of fabric. It was scented, and Darren held it to his nose, recognising his own aftershave.

"You were wearing that cologne the second time I met you," said Connor. "And it drove me fucking wild. I was so hungry for you."

Darren vaguely remembered Connor saying he smelled like a slut, and smiled softly, realising most of the dross that came out of Connor's mouth was designed to disguise how deeply he felt about everything.

He looked at this collection of modern relics, and then one by one, packed them back into the metal box.

Connor put it back in his pack, but left out the paper and pens. He put them to one side on the blanket by a lantern, then turned back to Darren.

"Before he comes up, I want to please you. I'll do anything you ask me to. Anything."

He placed his hands either side of Darren's face, and his dark eyes looked almost black in the cold light of the lantern and the moonlight. "Anything."

"Could you fuck me from behind?" asked Darren. "While you hold me? You did once, and it felt really good."

Once, and only once. Connor remembered. It had been the first night he'd had real 'feelings' for Darren, and he hadn't done it since.

"I can do that, if that's what you want. You want me to get you hard first?"

Darren nodded, and Connor slid the other boy's t-shirt off over his head, then tugged off his shorts.

He took his time, teasing and enjoying Darren's stiff flesh, licking and tasting, using his hands and mouth, soft lips and a wet tongue, his eyes always on Darren's.

Darren moaned under his lover's languid touch, brought near the brink multiple times, only to have his desire subside like a wave of surf back to a taut joy that kept his hips gently lifting, the muscles in his thighs contracting and releasing, his hot centre clutching and needy.

When he was ready, Connor slicked himself and entered him, holding the smaller boy against him, his mouth against Darren's shoulder, this man now, nineteen, and old enough to vote and fuck and drink, old enough to be in love, old enough to enjoy a night he knew would never come again.

Their fuck was sweet and deep, and when Connor's hand wrapped around Darren's length, he came, rewarded by Connor stiffening inside him, before the heated jerking of his climax filled Darren completely.

Afterwards, they stayed conjoined, and somehow Connor stiffened again. They fucked this way a second time, Darren's cries of pleasure and his noises of contentment echoing along the empty shoreline.

Darren heard Stan clambering up the rocks before he saw him, and called out to him.

"We're here."

Stan reached them and dropped down beside them on the sleeping mats.

"Hello lads."

Darren stayed in Connor's arms, as Stan dumped a bag off his shoulder and started pulling things out. More beer, a flask of whiskey, marshmallows and toasting forks.

"I told Darren about the geocache," Connor said to Stan. "Do you have anything you want to add?"

Stan pushed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a spiral sea shell necklace he'd bought from one of the local stalls. The shell was painted in bright colours, and threaded onto a single strand of leather.

"What's that?" Connor asked.

"I bought it as a memento. But it makes sense to leave it here, if we're doing this."

He handed it to Connor, then loaded up a toasting fork with marshmallows and handed it to Darren.

They toasted marshmallows and drank beer, then each took up a pad of paper and a pen to write their contributions to the time capsule.

Connor collected their envelopes, and secured everything into the metal box.

"Nothing else?" he asked.

The other two shook their heads.

"We'll bury it at first light," said Connor, and the three of them lay back to watch the stars fade into dawn.

As they made their way back to the airport a day later, the RV bouncing along the rutted dirt roads, all of them weary and bronzed by the sun, Darren rested on his bunk next to Connor, and on the edge of sleep heard his lover whisper, happy birthday.