The Wall and Goat
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2013 by Sasha Distan

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Maxie's grandmother tells him that love and hate are two horns on the same goat. That snowy day in January, a boy shows up who could just be that goat. Jesse is new to town and not happy about it. Maxie reminds him of memories he would rather leave behind and as the boy's grow apart and closer together they both realize that they need to change.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/mt   Consensual   Romantic   Gay   BiSexual   Interracial   First   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation  

"I hate him!"

I threw my bag at the corner table where Toman and Mina were sitting it the nearly deserted Toast. It was Monday, four o'clock, just after school and I was wound up enough to kill something. Luckily before that could happen Nuka knocked me to the lino floor. I wrestled good-naturedly with the husky while he tried to lick me to death until Paul hauled him off me and offered me a hand up.

"Hey there little boy," Paul dropped an arm over my shoulder, "Who you mad at?"

I smiled half heartedly. I liked Paul. He ran an awesome café in Toast and it was such a good place to hang out. His dog was awesome and he himself was so easy to get along with. The fact that he was gay and in a happy, stable, settled relationship was simply a great bonus. I loved having him as a role model. And friend who could buy us drinks, not that he ever did.

"His new neighbour is driving him nuts." Toman chipped in, "Hello to you too Maxie. Thanks for trying to hit me in the face with your books."

"Sorry," I scuffed my boot against the floor and played distractedly with Nuka's huge ears, "I'm just really angry."

Paul pushed me towards the counter and the twins left their table to join us. The big man started up the barrister machine and began to measure out three hot chocolates.

"Come on then. Tell me everything."

In the eight days since Jesse Newall had moved into the house next door my life had gone from generally careful and directionless to a total pile up. He'd come along and invaded my life and then made me hate him. It was obvious that the most beautiful boy I'd ever met hated me, his behaviour to that point was inexcusable. Eight days later he had still only said twelve words to me. Every time he saw me he scowled. I saw him at lunch chatting and joking with the sports boys, but if he caught sight of me his eyes went black and hard as flint.

Avoiding him wasn't an option, and after the second time he barged past me in the art room, knocking my bag to the floor, I moved across the room away from the workspace I had built up around myself to somewhere where he would have to detour to hit me. But as bad as school was, being constantly snubbed in a way that I had never known, being home was worse.

I sat in my room trying to read, or get to grips with maths, my least favourite subject and I would hear him. I would hear him pacing his room, hear his music on low (I refused to turn mine on, fearful of another thump to the wall), hear him talking to himself though I could never figure out what he was saying. His presence the other side of the wall distracted me beyond all reason. I started sitting downstairs to do my homework, reading in the lounge while my grandmother crocheted. Toman and Mina would come around after school and we'd spend some time mucking about in the back garden. His window was next to mine, and I was sure I saw him watching us.

But at night ... good god at night it was awful. I would swear the wall was warmer with his presence, except that wasn't possible. I woke in the night to hear him breathing, and falling asleep was damn near impossible, knowing he was there. He would toss and turn in bed, bits of him hitting the wall, the thud and scrape of his arm sliding down the plaster board. He talked in his sleep, half cries and unformed words that I couldn't understand. Sounds that ripped me from my own shallow dreams and made me wonder what was going on in his mind.

And then on Sunday night he said my name.

I was woken by a noise I wasn't conscious to hear, but as I looked at the glowing digits of my bedside clock, registering the green 3:18, I heard another thump from Jesse's side of the wall. I rubbed my eyes, knowing sleep would allude me for a little while anyway and then I heard it.

"Ugh, no, Max..."

I stared at the wall, as though starting at painted plaster board was going to help. Max could be anyone, a friend from back home. I rested my head softly against the wall and what I heard made my jump so hard I fell out of bed with a crash.

"No! Maxie don't!"

I stood up on shaky legs and stared at the wall. I didn't want to touch the bed, as though it was somehow electric, it was as if going back over there would burn me. I grabbed the blue woven throw that had fallen from my bed as wrapped it around my shoulders as I stared at the wall. There were no more noises, but I didn't feel much like going back over there. I dragged myself down to the lounge and collapsed on the sofa for the remainder of my largely sleepless night.

"Morning Maxie," The scent of breakfast and frying things woke me along with the soft voice of my grandmother, "And why are we sleeping on the sofa?"

"Bad dreams," I sat up, gathering my blanket about me, "What's for breakfast?"

"Your mother is making pancakes, so very American of her." Grandmother wrinkled her nose. She was Turkish and the idea of a sweet breakfast was alien to her. It was from her that I got my dark skin and from her late husband from who I received my big fisherman's shoulders, "You want feta with yours Küçük?"

I grinned. My grandmother never called me by my given name, the same as I never used hers, not since she had come to live with us after grandfather had died. I'd been seven and I couldn't imagine not having her around. My Turkish was a alright, though grandmother said my accent was still awful. The 'ç' in Turkish was a 'ch' sound, so my nickname of 'kid' sounded like 'kuchuk'.

"Please Babaanne,"I got up, yawning, and wrapped the blanket around my hips, "I'll go have a quick shower."

"Oh my boy," Grandmother ruffled my hair, "You look so much like your grandfather these days, only taller. Go get dressed, little ones would faint at the sight of you."

A quick breakfast of feta and olive oil pancakes later, a weird breakfast even for someone half Mediterranean, I was dressed and out the house. Jesse was already gone, and I was determined to talk to him. Was he dreaming about me? Was he simply trying to wind me up? I doubted this latter idea. Those words did not sound deliberate, they didn't sound planned. And they haunted me.

"No! Maxie don't!"

A desperate whisper, an involuntary cry. Jesse sounded like he'd been under attack.

We had assembly that morning and try as I might I couldn't catch his gaze, he seemed to be a lot more interested in his shoes than usual today. Afterwards he managed to vanish in the general rush and I didn't see him all morning. At lunch I expected to find him with his group of sports fans, but he was sitting toying with a slice of pizza at an empty table in cafeteria.

"Hey Jesse."

He looked up, blue eyes hopeful, and then he registered that it was me, and his expression snapped closed again, he looked away.

"How are you getting on?"

A grunt. Wow, so polite and communicative. I looked up to see Ian and Pete and couple of others heading over with their trays.

"Look, come speak to me yeah? What were you dreaming about last night?"

Jesse's eyes snapped up to me angrily.

"What?"

"You said my name. Last night."

As Ian and Pete drew close Jesse leapt to his feet. I am not used to feeling small or short, but I felt both of those things as Jesse towered over me, his eyes filled with a rage that I could not hope to explain.

"You can say whatever you like gay-boy," His voice was hard and mean, and loud, "But it doesn't mean I give a shit about you."

I stood there, numb, focusing on not bursting into tears.

"Get lost."

I blinked at him, stupidly, twice, then turned and ran.


"He said your name in his sleep?" Mina looked flabbergasted, Paul and Toman just looked shocked.

"Yeah." I sighed, poking the foam on the top of my now-ambient chocolate with a straw, "And he hates me."

"No one could hate you Maxie," Paul smiled, "If Nuka loves you, you must be good."

"Thanks. What the heck am I going to do?"

"Do nothing," Toman was halfway through a giant chocolate brownie, "Just ignore him."

Happily, Mina slapped her twin upside the head for his inanity.

"You're such a prat Toman. Have you even been listening?" She rubbed my shoulder, "I'd say come and stay with us, but you know what our parents are like about sleepovers on school nights. Sorry buddy."

Soon after that the twins left, leaving Paul and I alone in the café. Monday was always a slow day until about five thirty when all the office workers came in looking for coffee, cake and sandwiches before home.

"Paul?"

"Yes Maxie?"

"What should I do?"

The big man pondered my question in silence, wiping coffee cups and lining them up along the counter. The drip filter plinked gently, creating a hot steamy brewing aroma in the shop.

"Call him out on it. Talk to him, somewhere that he can't try and humiliate you. Go to his house. He feels something for you, good or bad."

"I can't get him out of my head. It's like he's living in there."

"Ah, young love." I glared at Paul, and he threw up his hand in defence, "Or hate. Whatever you want."

I scowled, but I said my goodbyes as the first few office professionals arrived for their evening caffeine fix. I would go to Jesse's house and talk to him. I had to. For a start I couldn't sleep on the sofa again, it hurt my back something chronic.


I made plans to go over there after dinner, ostensibly to borrow Jesse's English notes. We were on Shakespeare, not my favourite. I was silent over dinner. Mum had done minted lamb with Turkish wild rice the way my grandmother had taught her years ago when she and my father had first been dating, but I did the dishes without complaining.

 
There is more of this chapter...

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.