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Fairy Tale: noun

1. A fanciful tale of legendary deeds and creatures.
2. A fictitious, highly fanciful story or explanation.

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"Lights out, and go to sleep!" Herring bellowed. I held my breath and waited for the dormitory door to close, then counted to ten. On eleven, the whispered conversations started. It was the same at the start of every term. All of us; wanting to catch up with our friends' holiday gossip. Who'd spent time where, and with whom, and doing what.

"Herring's turned into an officious prick!" Nigel Salterton said.

"Always was, always will be," David Paine replied. "Didn't I tell you he'd be made prefect?"

"Yeah, sure you did, David -- not," I chuckled. "You said it was going to be Smith."

"Did not!" he fired back, "well ok, then, maybe I did … but if I did, it was before Smith got caught with Jenkins in the shower." David Paine was my best friend, and scrupulously honest.

The conversations went on for ten or so minutes before we all started to settle down. I was drifting off to sleep when David said good night and then, as someone often did, told the world at large he was going to have a wank. It was off the back of that statement that things began to get interesting.

"What's a wank?" the new boy in the cubicle opposite chirped up. The background hubbub died at once, and I found myself wide awake.

I'd arrived late, and hadn't had time to meet all the new boarders before we'd had to go to bed, so I knew next to nothing about the boy in the cubicle opposite, except his voice was sending shivers down my spine.

"Sorry," David said, "but did you just say 'what's a wank'?"

"Yeah," the kid replied, probably wishing he'd kept his mouth shut, "I did."

"Here, Frazer, the new sprat wants to know what wanking is! Think we should tell him?"

"Oh, go to sleep, David," I replied. "Lots of time for your ribald wittery, tomorrow; otherwise Herring'll catch us, and you know what'll happen then." I paused and thought about it. The new boy had only said six words, and yet his voice thrilled me. It was that, more than a total lack of common sense, that made me whisper: "What's your name?" They were all listening. You have to admit that in a dormitory of twenty fifteen-year-olds, it's damn peculiar to find someone who doesn't know what wanking is. I mean, we all knew what wanking was, and practiced it with determined regularity, as the squeaking bed springs made crystal clear. He didn't reply.

The school was cheapskate. For the amount of money our parents paid, we should have all had private rooms with en-suites. But no: it was good for our 'moral fibre' to be stuck twenty in a room, with only half-inch wooden partitions for privacy.

The new boy was opposite me, which meant I could hear rather more than anyone else, if I was so inclined. I was. I felt almost fevered with excitement at those six words he'd spoken, and I found that my body was in full agreement. Hard was an understatement.

"David?" I squeaked, "anybody?" There was no reply, just silence. Part of me thought that was odd; with a question like that he should have been the topic of at least a few comments. I didn't care how odd the silence was, though. All I could think about was his voice.

I lay back, wrapped my hand around my cock, and started stroking. Part of my mind, the logical, pragmatic part, was screaming at me to stop. It was telling me that I was going to be the laughingstock of the dorm the following morning. But the other part of my mind didn't care, it was having the best time it had ever had. I was a hair-breadths from coming when I felt the springs and mattress sink down. I froze.

"Is that wanking?" His voice sent me over the edge, and I shuddered, then screamed as I came, and came - the sensation far more potent and exquisite than any I'd ever felt before.

Silence: utter silence. There were no sarcastic comments, and the door to the dorm didn't crash open with Herring demanding to know why we weren't asleep, and what the noise was all about. I had my eyes screwed tight shut as I waited for the repercussions. As there weren't any, I opened my right eye just a bit.

Though he was in silhouette, I could tell that the boy sitting by my waist was stunningly beautiful, and he was looking at my now flaccid cock with interest. As I watched, he reached out and drew his forefinger through a puddle of come just under my right breast. With care he examined, then smelt it, before putting it in his mouth and licking his finger clean. I felt my mouth drop open in surprise.

"It tastes salty," he said, then leant over and stuck his tongue in my belly button, before slowly licking each and every puddle off my chest. "Mmm, yummy," he added, licking his lips and smiling. "I came over to introduce myself. I'm Nyquist … erm … Shannon Nyquist, but please, Frazer, call me Ny." He held his hand out, and, speechless, I took it and we shook. "I guess I'll head to bed then. See you in the morning, ni'night." He got up and walked slowly back across the corridor.

As he entered his cubicle, I realized that even though it was almost pitch dark in the dorm, I could see him quite clearly. What I saw made me hard as a rock again. I watched as he got into bed, and smiled back when he winked at me. The sounds of the other boys breathing and Farouk Salimi's inevitable snoring faded into the background as I once again took care of business.

I woke just after dawn, and, try as I might, I couldn't get back to sleep. Rather than lying in bed I got up, grabbed my dressing gown, slippers, and wash-bag, and was heading for the showers when the events of the night came flooding back. I could feel my face get hot and hurriedly re-tied my dressing gown belt, using it to keep my erection in check. Over the summer holidays I'd read an article about sexual drive. It had said that it was quite normal to get aroused at any moment, especially when you were in your teens. But I'd never felt this way before last night. It … he was like a drug, and something told me I'd have to be extremely careful, otherwise I'd make a complete and utter fool of myself. It wasn't as if I even knew him, though I knew I wanted to.

"Morning." Startled, I looked up, and realized I'd been daydreaming in the corridor between his cubicle and mine. He was standing right in front of me, though I hadn't heard him approach, and as my eyes lingered on his lips, I realized they were getting so close I couldn't keep them in focus ... and then he kissed me.

"Fuck!" Like standing under a freezing cold shower, I snapped back to reality and looked around to make sure we weren't being watched. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Nyquist?" I hissed as quietly as I could, and for a multiplicity of reasons, not the least of which was that I was still hotter than boiling platinum.

"Frazer, I'm …."

"Don't talk, Nyquist, please," I begged, realizing that as weird as it was, and as much as I didn't want to, I was on the verge of orgasm yet again; and that even if I'd got away with last night, ejaculating on the dormitory floor was liable to start rumours. I grabbed his hand - it felt incredible - and took him, not to the shower room, but to the small library our house was inordinately proud of. He gave me a puzzled smile but kept his peace and came with me willingly.

The library had been gifted by an old boy. The school had wanted to use the money for other projects, but the alumnus's family was adamant: the intent of his legacy was watertight, down to the detailed plans that had come with it and the core collection, which included some rare and valuable first editions. The library even had a librarian who was appointed tri-annually by a panel of Green's old boys, though she wasn't on duty until after breakfast.

Green was one of five boarding houses in the school grounds, and the one that was furthest away from the main school complex and nearest the woods. It was single story, built in the shape of five connected capital H's joined at the long side. The library was a later two story addition, though one floor - which housed the collection of supposedly rare and arcane manuscripts, and was strictly out of bounds - was underground, keeping the building's profile as near the original as possible.

Reading desks stretched along the wall facing the woods, a wall made entirely of glass. It was impressive, and a selling point to parents unimpressed with the school's academic results.

The woods dominated the view, towering overhead, and comprised of cedars, pines and ancient oaks. I watched Nyquist as he saw them for the first time. He seemed unmoved, then I realized I still had hold of his hand, and let go. Instantly I felt bereft; as if I'd purposely cut off some important facet of my life. I had to force myself not to grab his hand again.

"What do you think?" I said, pulling a chair out from under the desk, and wincing at the marks it left on the newly waxed floor. He raised his eyebrows, and chose to sit on the desk in front of me with his back to the forest and his feet on my chair to either side of my legs, rather than on a chair of his own.

"Of?"

I smiled, shyly, looking down at his bare feet - which were beautifully proportioned and very kissable - not daring to look up at him. I was still hard, though now I was more intrigued as to why I was feeling this way than I was worried about leaving a mess on the library floor. "Of the woods. How can you sit with your back to them? They're fantastic."

"Fantastical, yes. But nothing like what I'm looking at." Each and every word he uttered sent an erotic message to my dullard brain, and I felt I had to do something if I wasn't to make a fool of myself again.

"Oh … I'm sorry, Frazer."

Somewhere between the 'oh' and 'I'm', the sexual tension vanished. It was as if a switch had been thrown that had shut it off. I looked up at him, confused. Nyquist was more than upset. He looked devastated, and as I watched a lone silvered tear ran down his cheek.

"Wh … what … what just happened? Are you ok, Ny?"

"Glamour," he said, as if that explained everything. Then he wrapped his hand around my arm. The feeling was gone. When he'd spoken before, or when we'd touched, it was as if I'd been plugged into a power supply. Now it was like being touched by any of my friends. Though, I had to admit, it was nicer because it was Nyquist. I gave myself a mental slap. This was a new boy. I'd only just met him, and here I was thinking how much I liked his touch. David would have a field day at my expense if he found out.

It was strange, but now I wasn't about to cream my pants, I felt like I'd known Nyquist for a long, long time. I let my gaze drift up from his hand, and its long, fine fingers that still circled my wrist, to his face. He had a strong but slightly rounded chin, with a dimple beneath full firm lips. His nose was ever so slightly roman, though it turned up at the bottom, making it eminently kissable. His hair, so blonde it was almost white, was long and dressed in bangs that covered his ears, whilst his eyes were a golden brown. As if from nowhere I had an image of him dressed like Robin Hood in green leathers and carrying a bow.

"Finished?"

I snapped to, realizing I'd wandered off on a daydream, and blushed at his expression, which was almost, but not quite, a smirk. I was hard, again.

"Yeah, sorry, but … what's 'glamour'?"

"Oh …." He hopped down off the desk, and I could see that he was hard too, as he walked off behind me. "I'm an elf, and using glamour is one of the ways we hide ourselves."

"Hide yourselves?"

I heard myself say it. I knew that what I should have said was 'an elf! Yeah, sure you are, and I'm a pigmy shrew, only human when Mars is in the fifth house!' or some such claptrap. But I couldn't say that because somehow, somewhere deep inside, I knew Nyquist wouldn't lie to me. If Nyquist said he was an elf, then Nyquist was an elf.

"Thank you," he whispered by my ear, resting his hands on my shoulders. He kissed me lightly on my head, and I sighed in pleasure as his hands started working their way around my neck and down inside my dressing gown and pyjamas, coming to rest on my chest. He laid his chin on my right shoulder and started nibbling on my ear lobe.

"How … I mean, why do I know you're telling … you could be bullshitting me, but …."

"I wouldn't lie to you, Frazer …." His voice and the heat of his breath were doing things to me again, but this time, though it was magical, it wasn't magic. "I couldn't lie to you." The heat of his hands was warming me through, and I felt relaxed and peaceful. "Would you like to see the forest as I see it, Frazer?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, Ny, I would." I knew the answer I'd given him was both important and right, though I had no idea how I knew.

"Instinct and the link, Frazer … our link," he said as he withdrew his hands from under my pyjamas and covered my eyes. "Don't freak out when I take my hands away."

I nearly did. I felt my jaw drop after he removed his hands and I saw the forest for the first time in all its glory. Whatever I say will sound like hubristic exaggeration, and even if you believed me, the words I would use such as magnificent, stupendous, phenomenal, come nowhere near the reality.

Imagine the muted, dank forest green colours we all experience and turn them up a thousand percent. The forest was alive, it was vibrant and it was real. Each tree an individual, as much as we humans are: each with its life story to tell. I knew, sitting there in the library with Nyquist now squeezed up in the chair next to me, his arm around my back, that if I'd have gone and sat next to one I could have ended up talking to it for days. There was so much life out there that I'd only read about in fairy tales. I pointed excitedly at each new creature I spotted and Nyquist patiently told me their names. .

"… and what's that?"

"Ah, well they call themselves Centaurs. They're really friendly once you're introduced, but if they don't know you … well, just watch out, ok? As a general rule of thumb: it's always best to be introduced."

"Yeah, sure, ok … and that?"

"That's a 'oflix, which is sort of like a were-donkey, though they're good companions if they know you and it's not a full moon. Remember you can't ride them." I looked across at him, then reached out and tentatively ran my fingers over his lips. He shuddered, and took a deep breath as I touched him, before looking back at me.

"Yes, I have. Why else would I have such long hair?" I blushed.

"You really can read my mind."

He rolled his eyes.

"Duh, I thought we'd already determined that. Remember?"

"Well, you said 'our link', but I thought … can I see them then, I mean, do you mind if I see?" He grinned, and pulled back his hair, revealing longer than normal, pointed ears.

"Huh," I murmured, "My friend: Ny the elf. It's got a good ring to it." He smiled, took my hand and squeezed. I looked down at our hands joined together, and watched as his thumb started stroking the back of my fingers. A warm glow seemed to settle over both of us, and I knew that his smile indicated much more than friendship. He leant over and, blinking slowly, bussed me gently on the lips.

"Almost as good as Frazer the elfling, don't you think?"

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