Darren Celebrates His Birthday

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This follows on from the 'Connor on Campus' series.
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Darren stood in the bathroom. He could hear low voices from the room beyond, and the sound of mouths meeting, as Connor and Stan kissed and touched in their post-orgasm glow.

It'd been months now, and while the three would often cuddle together in a sweaty mass after sex, of late, Connor had demanded this time alone with Stan.

Darren sat on the edge of the bath and wondered if he was real to them, or still just a toy. Although he thought of Stan as his boyfriend, and Connor as Stan's boyfriend who fucked him, he couldn't help feeling lonely when they chose each other instead of including him.

"Darren!" Stan called. "You in there?"

Darren got to his feet and ran a hand through his mop of brown hair. He checked himself out in the mirror and was happy with what he saw. Nothing exceptional—but nothing to be ashamed of. Now that he was no longer a virgin, and with Stan's guidance at the gym, he had more confidence in himself, in his body.

He got looks from the guys on campus now. They saw the way he walked, the way he held himself, and he knew they were interested. But they also knew Connor. He was a notorious prick, and no one wanted to fuck with his 'pet'. But despite this, Darren knew there was a world out there of people who'd love to fuck him, maybe even date him, if these two didn't want him.

"Darren!" Connor's use of his name snapped Darren into action. He headed back into the bedroom, where Stan was sitting against the wall, while Connor lay against the pillow, idly stroking Stan's leg.

"We're planning on going away this weekend," Connor told him, and Darren's heart sank.

It was Friday, and his birthday was on Sunday. Clearly they'd forgotten.

"Come here," said Connor, and patted the bed.

Darren climbed onto the bed, finding space as best he could.

Connor held his phone out. "Doesn't this look nice?"

Darren was confused. It was a beach. It was labelled in Spanish, 'Playa Del Baño De Las Mujeres.' He knew enough Spanish from High School to translate this as something like: 'Beach of the bathroom of the women'.

"Spain?"

"We're flying out tomorrow morning," said Stan. "Sorry, probably should have told you sooner, but it was last minute. The flights were cheap, and I wanted to book them before we lost them."

Darren nodded quietly. He had other friends. He'd find a way to celebrate his nineteenth birthday without these two. It'd be good for him. He didn't spend enough time with his friends anyway.

"So, you'll need a Speedo," Connor said. At first, Darren thought he was speaking to Stan, but then realised the words were intended for him.

"Am I... am I coming?"

Stan caught his fingers. 'Course you are! And you don't have to bring a Speedo either." He gave Connor a long look.

"Yes you do," said Connor, lazily stretching like a cat, his hands against the headboard. "If there are too many women 'bathing' there, I want something decent to look at."

Darren grinned. He wasn't sure what was happening, but even if they'd forgotten his birthday, at least they'd be together.

Stan pulled at his hand gently, and Connor moved his legs out of the way as Darren shuffled closer to Stan on his knees. Stan kissed him, and Darren put his hands on Stan's shoulders, closing his eyes into the kiss.

"Given it's nearly one a.m., and we have to get to the airport by seven, how about you both fuck off so I can get some sleep?" said Connor.

Stan placed his forehead against Darren's and grinned at him. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

Darren nodded. He didn't care if he had to get up in three hours, he just wanted Stan pressed up against him.

Stan jumped off Connor's bed, and Darren followed him across the room.

"One of these days we should get a flat," said Stan, and Darren's heart jumped. The three of them, flat together. Living together. He didn't dare allow himself to think it was anything more than a joke.

Stan climbed into bed, and Darren got in facing him. They resumed their kissing and fondling, while across the room, Connor smiled up at the ceiling.

*

On the plane, Connor snored softly, while Darren loosely held Stan's hand. The three were seated next to each other, Stan against the window, Darren in the centre seat, Connor on the aisle.

"Look at that," Stan pointed out the window, and Darren leaned across him to look at the clouds. A sunrise layer of orange and blue filled the sky above a sea of cloud so dense, Darren felt as if he could step out onto it. Grab fistfuls of it in his hands and prise it apart like candy floss. He could imagine the taste of it in his mouth. Damp. Clean.

Stan's hand was sweaty in his, and Darren realised his lover was a nervous flyer. He said nothing, just held Stan's hand, their skin warm and slippery, their fingers cramped.

But the view was too stunning to waste. Darren pulled his hand away to take his phone out and took a photo.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Stan, touching a finger to the window, leaving a smeared fingerprint against the Plexiglas.

The plane dropped and shuddered, and Stan's body went rigid. He gripped the armrest, and Darren took his lover's hand back into his lap and leaned his head against the older boy's shoulder, ignoring the curious looks he got from the passengers across the aisle.

Most people these days just smiled when they saw two guys expressing affection, but things hadn't yet reached the point where no one noticed. It was okay. He wasn't embarrassed. Shy, yes. But who could be embarrassed if the world knew someone like Stan was his boyfriend?

Connor stifled a yawn as they made their way through customs and headed for the car rental to pick up an RV.

"You drive," he said to Stan. "I need at least another six hours' sleep."

Stan snorted and took the keys.

It was a good hour and a half drive from Alicante to the beach of the women's bathroom, and Connor slept it all away.

Darren took the passenger seat and watched the countryside streak by; miles of olive trees in neat rows, grey motorway and sun-burnt grass. The Autovia del Mediterraneo wasn't terribly scenic, but Darren didn't care. He couldn't help glancing across at Stan, a ball of warmth glowing inside him. It didn't matter where they were going, or what they were doing, he'd never been so happy.

They reached a turnoff, with a sign that said 'Salida de Camiones', and Darren asked, "What does that mean?"

"Truck exit," said Stan. "A shortcut. It's all dirt roads from here."

They travelled along the unsealed road, red-brown hills rising up around them, the only vegetation scrubby, dusty clumps of grass. Every so often they passed square culverts that looked as if they might carry water. If water ever came to this place.

They rumbled past a short, round tower with some piece of equipment pointing from it up at the sky, and even Stan couldn't explain that one.

Past short palm trees, and irrigation ponds that look like algae-filled swimming pools. Past white plastic cities of greenhouses, that filled the air with the smell of melting plastic. Past stucco houses painted white and tan and orange, with terracotta tiled rooves. Past a red sign that, when Darren glanced back, said 'crossing is prohibited in case of heavy rain', in Spanish. He couldn't imagine rain falling here.

And then he saw the ocean, a blue line to his left, under a white and blue sky. He opened his window and let in the heat, and the scent of dust and salt.

They parked up and found no one else around. Stan stretched. "Welcome to the beach where women bathe," he said, and Darren sniggered.

"I bet you hope women really do bathe here."

Stan grinned at him. "Not gonna lie."

They jumped out of the cab and the heat pushed against them.

"I need to be wearing less," said Stan, a sweat already breaking out between his shoulder blades as he shielded his eyes from the sun.

The beach itself was narrow, roughly a hundred metres of shoreline, with tall rock stacks either side. The ocean was a deep topaz, stretching out into the distance.

Insects fluttered past on spinning, iridescent wings, and Darren took in the scent of the sea and let out a deep breath. He couldn't believe they had this tiny haven all to themselves.

Connor roused himself and joined them outside. He'd changed into board shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt that fluttered against his thin chest in the breeze.

"Anyone fancy a swim before it gets too hot?"

They all did.

Back in the RV, Stan pulled open his bag and took out a pair of salmon-coloured beach shorts. If he stayed bare-chested, he'd be well tanned by the end of the weekend.

Darren searched his own bag for his beach shorts and found... a bright red Speedo. His face flushed with heat. He couldn't find his shorts anywhere.

Darren knew Connor was responsible, but what choice did he have? The shorts he'd packed were gone. It was jeans or beach undies. He pulled on the Speedo, shaking his head. Whatever. He'd better get his dick sucked if he was going to go out there in the equivalent of a bikini bottom.

"Oh my days," said Connor as Darren appeared, a black tank top covering his chest. He stalked up to Darren and put his hands on the younger boy's waist.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

Darren glanced at Stan, but Stan had his arms folded, a smirk on his face.

"Shall we go for a swim?" Stan asked.

"Last one in sucks my dick!" said Connor, and kicked off his flip-flops as he jogged towards the water, whooping in delight.

Already barefoot, Darren followed him, aware his arse was bouncing in his tiny Spandex togs, and that Stan had a clear view of his behind.

Stan, who just strolled after them, enjoying said view.

Connor reached the water and leapt over the breakers, then took a full dive into deeper water.

Darren stopped in water up to his knees and glanced back at Stan.

Stan picked up his pace and jogged towards him, tackling Darren into the surf.

With sea water up his nose and in his mouth, Darren wrestled with Stan, then grew aware there were two pairs of hands dragging him deeper into the water. He took a deep breath as hands fondled his arse underwater, then moved around him to cup his junk through his trunks.

Stan stripped off the younger boy's tank top and swam away with it, dropping it above the tide line. He waded back in, and came back to the other two, where Darren was being mauled by Connor from behind in waist-deep water.

Stan's chest was covered in drops of seawater, and Darren wanted nothing more than to lick them away. He got his wish as Stan stepped in close to make out with Connor over Darren's shoulder.

Connor's hands roved across Darren's body, stroking his firming erection through the red Speedo, pinching his tight nipples, hardened by the cool of the water.

Then Stan's mouth was on Darren's, while two pairs of hands roaming across the younger boy's body.

He was in heaven, every sensitive part of him touched and teased, as the ocean lapped around his waist and the sun beat down.

Suddenly Connor broke away. "I'm swimming out to that rock. Last one there—"

"Yeah, we all know I'm gonna suck your dick!" Stan called after him, as Connor dove back into the waves and headed for a rocky island a short distance away.

Water sluiced around Darren as he dove after Connor, the pressure of the ocean a roar against his ears until his head broke the surface again.

They clambered out onto the rocks, and climbed up to the flat top, where spindly grass scratched out a living in the salt-dried dirt.

Stan leaned back on one hand and shielded his eyes with the other, staring into the distance. The ocean was calm and turquoise-blue, the sky curving down to the horizon.

Connor lay back, his arms across his face, and Darren sat between the two boys, his arms draped over his knees.

The ocean sighed and lapped against the rocks, and a quiet fell across them all.

Darren felt at peace. He was where he wanted to be, salt drying on his skin, his hair spiked with sea spray, the sun warming away the cool of the ocean.

After a time, Stan lay back, mirroring Connor, and soon Darren did the same.

They lay there under the Spanish sun, gulls wheeling and calling in the distance, the waves lapping, surf hissing against the shore behind them.

"So," Connor's voice broke the silence. He rolled his headed towards Darren. "You're nineteen tomorrow."

His words gave Darren a jolt of happiness, and then filled him with embarrassment that he thought they'd forgotten.

"You've got two options to celebrate your birthday," Stan said. "Tomorrow night, you can choose one of us to spend the night with. Or you can spend the night with both of us."

"All three of us together," said Darren, glad he'd been given the option.

"Before you decide," said Connor, "know that we'll be having our own private party together tonight anyway. You'll be—" he paused "—well entertained, by both of us." He put a hand on Darren's leg. "And if you prefer to be with just one of us tomorrow, that's fine. But whoever you choose, will choose how you're entertained for the night."

Darren glanced at him nervously. "You didn't mind if I spend it with just Stan?"

Connor's eyes widened. Darren could see that, to his surprise, Connor's feelings were hurt.

"No, of course not. It's your birthday."

Connor gave Darren a stiff smile and got to his feet. "I'm getting too hot. See you both back at the RV."

Darren wanted to call to him, as the other boy made his way down off the rock and dove into the water, but he lacked the courage.

He knew nothing good could come of upsetting Connor, but was more concerned the other boy was hurt.

Stan gave him a long look. "You didn't know he cared, did you?"

Darren shook his head.

"He'll never let you know that he wants you to care for him." Stan sat up, and picked at the gritted rock that stuck to his legs. "I came back to my room once, and he didn't realise I'd let myself in. He was in bed, and he was having some kind of panic attack."

Stan took in a breath, and let it out again as a sigh through his nose.

"I heard him repeating, over and over, 'I don't care. I don't care if he leaves me. I don't care.'."

Darren's eyes went wide. "Who... was he talking about?"

Stan shrugged, and drew a circle in the dust with one finger. "Me, I think." He looked up at Darren. "He has no idea how to show affection. But I know he's fond of you."

Darren looked down at his feet, coated with sand. "How can you tell?"

"It's been months now. He hasn't fucked anyone else. And he hasn't tried to separate us."

Darren pondered this, his thoughts against the salt and the sun and the surf, filling his senses with a strange peace.

"So, what should I do?"

"How d'you feel about him?"

Darren dropped his head. "I like him."

"It's more than that though, isn't it?" Stan asked.

Darren nodded. Just thinking about it made his stomach clench. "But, I trust you. I don't trust him."

"You want my advice?"

Darren nodded again.

"You've got us both. But he won't offer himself to you like this again if you turn him down. If you want to see inside him, choose him. I'll still be here."

He put a hand on Darren's shoulder and squeezed gently.

Darren was still, lost in his thoughts.

"Stay here a while longer," said Stan. "Then meet us back at the RV."

He climbed down off the rock and dove into the waves.

Back at the RV, Stan found Connor sitting on a towel at the table. He had a line of coke in front of him.

Stan reached over and brushed the coke onto the floor with the palm of his hand.

"What the fuck!" Connor got to his feet, facing Stan down. But while they were nearly eye to eye in height, Stan's shoulders were broader, his body well muscled against Connor's finer build.

"No drugs. We agreed. Not while we're out here with him."

Connor snarled, rage in his eyes. But he knew as well as Stan did that they were a long way from anything, and he had no way to threaten Stan if Stan didn't want to submit.

He dropped back onto the wet towel and stared at the coke-dust still left on the table.

Stan took a seat opposite him. "If he picks you, what will you do with him?"

The petulance stayed on Connor's face. "He'll pick you. You're soft." It was meant to be an insult, but Stan just smiled.

"Maybe he doesn't want soft all the time."

Connor ran a finger across the table, collecting up the coke, and rubbed his fingers together.

"That was at least thirty pounds you wasted."

"I'll pay you back."

Connor looked up, his blue eyes the darkest blue Stan had seen. "Yes, you will."

"What will you do with him?" Stan prompted again.

Connor's eyes stayed on Stan's face, but their focus went elsewhere. Instead, he got to his feet and dropped his shorts. The second he did, Stan was alert and hungry. It was like Pavlov's bell, ringing in the back of his skull.

Connor shifted so the table wasn't in the way, and dropped back down onto the bench seat. He opened his legs wide and leaned back, sprawled out to own the space. There was a cruel look on his face, a look of arrogance and contempt, his thin arms resting against the backs of the seat cushions, his cock already a solid shaft.

Stan knew Connor had coke in him, knew he hadn't gotten there soon enough. But his body didn't care. As Connor hit him with that gaze, a gaze that sent a shudder through him, made his own dick twitch, he dropped to his knees and shuffled the short distance from his seat, to rest back on his heels between Connor's legs.

Connor put a hand against the back of his lover's headed and pulled him forward, and Stan's lips parted just in time for his mouth to be speared, and that soft-skinned, solid hardness was jammed against the entrance to his throat.

Soon he was bobbing on Connor's cock, obeying the hand against the back of his head, his tongue massaging Connor's thickness, his lips a tight seal.

"Yeah, bitch, know your place."

There was an extra hardness in Connor's voice, an edge of iron to his grip. But all it did was excite Stan. If he didn't want this, he could overpower Connor any time. But this cold use of his mouth, his mind, his body, turned him into a slave to Connor's desire, and he couldn't imagine his life without this brutal energy in it.

"Fuck!" Both of Connor's hands gripped Stan's head, guiding him down, jamming his nose into Connor's dark nest of hair, a ruthless, brutal assault on Stan's mouth and throat.

"Fuck!" It was a teeth-gritted groan of triumph, of ownership, like an axe swinging into the skull of an enemy.

And into the skull of his lover he pumped his cum, gush after gush that Stan swallowed and savoured, letting Connor use him as he saw fit.

When Connor finally pushed him back onto his heels, Stan was so close to coming, that his shorts were stained with sticky fluid.

The last few drops of cum drooled from Connor's cock, and Connor collected them on his fingers and held his hand out to Stan to clean.

Stan did as Connor wanted, keeping his hands free of the erection tenting his shorts, waiting to saw what Connor would have him do next.

"Have Darren take care of that," said Connor, nodding towards Stan's excitement. He stood and pulled his shorts back up, then climbed up to the top bunk. A moment later, Stan heard the other boy's tablet sing to life and Netflix start.

He put a hand to his hardness, feeling the thick rod pulsing in his shorts. He closed his hand around it through the hard fabric, and started when the RV door opened and Darren pulled himself up the steps.

"Hey."

Stan got to his feet, and Darren's eyes went wide as Stan covered his mouth with his, invading the smaller boy's mouth with his tongue.