To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Saturday May 24th 5:32pm

Oh God, love. I'm so sorry--I wish like I hell I could be there. If she's
kept for longer than you say--more than a couple of days--I will be.

> I'm looking up coach timetables right now - go down for a couple of days.
> Means I'll be out of email range.

Hope you get this, though I suspect you won't. I'll be waiting for the
phone to ring.

> OK, there's a coach out of Victoria at 9. If I go now I'll catch it. Be
> back Monday for that tutorial unless things get a lot worse - mum would
> *kill* me for cutting class.
>
> I'll call.

You better.

> Hope you meant it about the calling card thing.

I did.

> Oliver? Love you. I'm sorry.

I love you, too. And don't be sorry.

Yours. Always. Here for you--and I'll be there, if you need me.

Love you.

Oliver

********* Phone Call*************

"Hello? Tom?"

"Hey Oliver. It's me. You ok?"

"I'm fine, love. Well, worried as fuck, but fine. How is she?"

"My mum is - you're not going to believe this. My mum's fine. Bemused as
all hell, but fine."

"Really? She's fine? That's great! So, why the hospital?"

"She was in last night and this morning for tests - just Seth fucking lied
to me about the rest. I'm - hang on ... Sorry - I misunderstood
Seth about why she was in overnight. So there's still test results and
everything to wait for, but right here and now, she's home and fine, and
kind of amused, I think, that I came barrelling on up here ..."

"Wait, is he there? I'm confused. Can you talk openly?"

"Yeah - Not really. God - Oliver? Love you. I'm so sorry about freaking you
out like that."

"Shhh. 'S okay. Really. I'm just glad she's okay. Do I have to kill Seth
for you?"

"Please? I guess I did pretty much panic. Hey - at least my mum knows I
care, right?"

"Well, yeah. And it's good you're there. But I'm a little freaked by this
Seth thing. What's he after?"

"Ohh. I'm not sure. Well - I guess some time tomorrow I'll be back on campus
and I can sort something out then, yeah?"

"God damn it." *sigh* "Are you okay? I mean, there's not going to be a
big knock down fight is there?"

"No promises. Hopefully not. I'm - I'll be ok. Mostly just relieved and
kinda embarrassed and - mostly relieved. Sorry for having panicked you for
no good reason."

"Wasn't for no good reason, Tom. Family is always a good reason, and I was
more stressed about not being there than anything. Does your mom know *why*
you're there? That Seth panicked you on purpose?"

"That all kinda depends on interpretation. But she is ok, and it's not a bad
thing for me to see the folks, you know?"

"Seth's just lucky he didn't pull this shit closer to your exams, love.
'Cause I would be on a plane, and I wouldn't make a great first impression
on your family."

"I love you. So much. Look - now I'm here I should probably go and actually
*see* my folks - or at least let my mum get to bed. Stop running up your
phone bill too."

"Yeah, I guess. Still hate this part, though. And stop worrying about the
bills!"

"Sorry love - force of habit. And I know - hard to hang up, and .. well ..
you know, right?"

"Yeah. I love you, too. Promise me you'll e-mail me as soon as you can and
fill me in?"

"Of course. Love you. Take care, yeah? And try not to worry to much."

"I'll try. Tom--?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch for the postman."

"I'll be home well before that, pest."

"I know, love. Just...take care of yourself for me, yeah? Don't let Seth
get to you."

"I won't. I really really should go. Mail tomorrow, yeah?"

"I'll look for it. Love you, Tom. Miss you."

"You too, love, you too."

******************************


To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Sunday May 25th 10:48pm

I. Am going. To kill. My brother.

Setting that thought aside for the moment.

I love you.

Thank you - for understanding about the phone call and for not getting mad
about the false alarm and - hey - I never promised low maintenance drama
free boyfriend, right?

> Yours. Always. Here for you--and I'll be there, if you need me.

You blow me away sometimes. Means so much that you'd even think about
dropping everything and catching a plane because my mum, who you've never
even met ... You're a good man, Oliver. I'm lucky. The more so because you
didn't have to make good on that. I'm still a little shaky I guess. Hell -
you handed over your calling card details after like, three weeks, but -
this is one of those times when I don't seem to have words and really I just
want to hold you.

So what did happen you ask?

Good frelling question.

According to Seth, I called up, he said that the parents weren’t back from
the hospital yet, I said is she ok, he said yes, and then a few hours later
I have a taxi burning rubber down to the house because I'm delusional.

Lying toerag.

Didn't argue it in front of the folks - brushed it off as getting the wrong
end of the stick, being paranoid, bonus loving son points, and they have no
clue as to why I flipped out and panicked and assumed she was at death's door,
past maybe exam stress making me twitchy.

I mean - everyone's kind of worried, and I don't think my dad really slept
while mum was overnighting it, but she was in so they could observe her
sleep patterns and take a 24 hour spectrum of reading, and it was all
planned. Which I'd have known if I'd called her back. Anyway - there's
nothing any more urgent or life threatening than last week and the week
before, you know?

The phone call I was party to, she was called in early because they were
rushing through the tests because she's high risk or something, and I'd
swear he said, in so many words, they were keeping her in because she had had
some sort of reaction to the anaesthetic and they needed her close to an
intensive care bed. Hence the panic and the going straight there ...

I don't know what the hell he was thinking.

I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you this on the phone - he and dad were both kind
of hanging around, and Dad doesn't need the stress of a full scale row,
and you didn't need to listen to one, and it wasn’t going to get me anywhere
anyway - I'm still sorry. That was pretty weird though. Especially as I was
still half processing things when I rang.

Did have the row. More or less. Just at really low volume in the kitchen at
about 1.30 am ...

Somehow, I brought that on my own head by fucking off to college, and being
to busy fucking God knows what to care about my family, so he didn't think
I'd give a shit. And I can't take a joke.

I'm going to kill him.

Where do you even start?

He's sixteen, he's stressed about his GCSE exams. Dad's no doubt got his
pedal to the metal about grades and A level choices and what university he's
going to apply for in two years time, and 'if you're going to be a vet'. His
mum's sick, his dad's stressed, and he's not really speaking to his elder
brother. I'm going to guess that some acting out might be understandable.
You know, prank pizza delivery or getting pissed on alcopops or something.
Not trying to give me heart failure.

This has to be between me and him to sort out - I just have no idea how.

Getting through today was just exhausting. Mum insisted on cooking a proper
sit down family dinner seeing as we were all there, which was fairly
excruciating. Me and dad went of for a walk down to the pub for a pint
before hand. Never thought I'd get to write that. He's doing ok at least -
worried about mum, but... He asked about you. "So, that was your - friend
you rang last night". to be exact. "Boyfriend, dad, His name's Oliver."
and then about ten minutes later. "He a good man?" "The best." and then he
just nodded and let it go. For my dad, that's pretty good.

Had a similar sort of conversation with mum while I was helping with the
washing up. She said that it was sweet of you to be concerned about her.
Finally got around to asking what exactly it is that you do that has you
visiting London so often. That kind of thing. She keeps trying to tell me
that I shouldn’t worry about her. Wish I could stop, you know? Feel like crap
for not calling her back though. She insist she told Ian to tell me to 'ring
some time - it’s not urgent', but - I don't know. None of this would have
happened if I'd been paying attention, right?

OK - this is just getting maudlin now, and you don't need to hear that.
Going to send this off, just in case you're being all suspense-y. Hopefully
you're off doing something fun with your Sunday.

Going to kick around here for a bit - putting of going back to the house.
Not really in the mood for partied-up housemates and if I stay put they
should have gone to sleep...

Love you.

So much.

Miss you.

Your Tom.

****************
Once is an accident
Twice is jazz
****************




To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Monday May 26th 00:18am


Hey lover,

Been re-reading some of your mails, determined to try and stop myself just
stressing round in circles about Seth. Make me smile, you do, and appreciate
the whole small and currently deserted computer lab. Well - there's a couple
of guys beavering away over in the far corner, but - close enough. Um - I
appear to have two settings right now - sappy and horny. [Did you sleep
through the alternate phaser settings bit on the Izzard tape? Damned useful
idea that!]

> Damn. And yeah, it'll be a box. Monday will be interesting then. >;-)

I am sure there ought to be something wrong with you having gotten me
trained like Pavlov's dogs reacting to your naughty evil smile. Damned if I
can think what it was.

> I know what I *hope* it does. Why should I be the only one hard all the
> time? Heeee!

Believe me, you're not.

> You do. Trust me, you do. I hope I make you soar as well. Want to make
> you cry out.

See. You say things like that, and - you do. You did. I think I'm right in
saying that only the fact that was a rather posh hotel with really good
sound proofing kept us from complaints from the neighbours.

> Well, let's see. We talked about cock rings, dildos, blindfolds and gags.
> Just to refresh your memory.

Think I'd rather remember the details of how your skin tastes, how your
legs, your sides, your chest, your prick - how you feel against me, in my
hands. Um - used the deserted computer lab time to check out some of these
URL's. I've got the sheet folded up in my diary, Oliver. I'm thinking that
you really weren’t kidding about the leather thing - thinking about how it
might feel, mostly about how you'd look at me, a little about the
practicalities of what and how much and where to find ... Not any of the
really silly looking stuff, but - some of those pictures? Oh yeah.

> > > And Oliver goes off to research digital cameras......
> >
> > I'm a bad influence, aren't I?
>
> Tell me not to, and I won't. But it could be fun.... a collection of
> pictures just for us, without the agony of film....

Can't tell you not to - not going to tell you to, either. Although it would
be pretty cool.

> > > Oh man, she's a funny girl. And that was pretty mild for her. She
> > > finally came in just as I was getting ready to leave and asked if at
> > > any point my ass was sore.
> >
> > "Yes but there was plenty of other things to do.' would be a bad thing
> > to say, right?
>
> LOL!! I should have said that! I think what I actually did was blush and
> stammer.

Espirit D'escalier strikes again ;)

> > Cool - report back if they pick anyone? Say hi to Jess for me - feeling
> > pretty kindly disposed towards her for sticking up for you.
>
> I did, she was pleased as hell. More about lunch in a bit. They didn't
> come up with anyone, though--they did, however, agree that you are really
> hot and sexy.

I'm glad people never say things like that to me in real life, because what
the hell do you say?

> > Can I beg for copies of some of the photos? In the post so I don’t have
> > to wait a month? Begging and bribery?
>
> You bet, love. Will drop them in the mail on Monday. Anything else you
> want?

You. All the time.

/cheap shot.

> If you were here I'd smack your ass. You aren't going to be annoying. If
> it makes you feel better, I promise to tell you if I get annoyed. But it
> isn't going to happen.

Thank you? Hoping that still stands in the light of recent events. Gods but
you make it easy to fall for you, love. Easy to trust you, believe you.

> God, that sounds good. And fun. And good. I'm hungry all of a sudden.
> Want to take you to bed then eat and then take you to bed again and fall
> asleep.

Mmmmm. Ice-cream in bed, even.

> > Can't wait for me to be able to cook for you one day, something
> > special.
>
> I want that. So very much.

When I get a place of my own, will you be able to stay when you're visiting
with work? Would your work be ok with that? Or do they want you in the hotel
and ready to leap into action at any moment? I will bake before your next
visit - something rich and decadent and portable. Just for you.

> We're going out to Crow Hill; looks like a good climb, lots of variety,
> and not too far to travel.

Sounds good - although I've lost track - was that 'next weekend' as in
today? Or next weekend?

> > Our first trip out's Tomorrow - a
> > quickie run down to an old quarry in Sussex. It's not great scenery or
> > anything, but it's a good spot to give the first timer's a shot without
> > having to call out the mountain rescue squad. Um - given that it's been
> > a couple of weeks since I did anything either I shall be quietly
> > grateful for the easy start.
>
> Is Toad going? ;-)

Toad probably did go - I didn't. Just hope they had enough experienced
climbers that they're not going to be utterly pissed with me for the sudden
no show. I didn’t think to take anyone's phone numbers with me last night.
I've sent the whole committee emails just now.

> > You need a pet rock - or that imaginary puppy. Ohh - robo-pup!
>
> Ohhhh! Maybe a cyber pet. Oh wait, that's you. *pets Tom.* *pets Tom
> very nicely*

*Tom purrs*

> Heh. I don't have any cleaning done, but I had a good day. Woke up,
> took a nice long ride, then met the girls for lunch. They were all squee-ish
> about the pictures and Kim asked some really intense questions (well, not
> intense for her, but probably for you--like if you top or botTom and how big your
> cock is). They, at least, are happy I'm happy.

The happy is good. I clearly have the wrong kind of friends. I think Becka
was angling for the same sort of info, but she's a lot less up front about
asking for it!

> Jess says Kerry is...well, not angry, but upset. He thinks I'm making a
> mistake and that I should never have started e-mailing you, let alone
> fallen in love with someone so far away. Plus, he's been spending a lot of time
> with Peter (they've always been close) and Jess says Peter's really laying
> it on about how hard long distance is, and how he'd never have cheated on
> me if I was home more. Peter's also telling everyone who will listen that he
> still cares about me and that he'd only concerned for my sake, not wanting
> to see me hurt again.

Love you. Personally I think he's very very wrong, and I'm immensely glad
that you started emailing me.

> And Peter's got a new boyfriend, apparently. A civil servant who
> (according to Kim) looks suspiciously like me.

Um - flattering, I suppose?

> So, I'm thinking I'll stop calling Kerry.

There's nothing stopping him calling you, if he wants to. I'm sorry, though.
Always sucks to lose friends.

> Not as much as I would have if you were there. But I came calling your
> name, almost feeling your hands on me.
>
> > Love you. So much. Wish I could touch you, kiss you, taste you.
> > Horny git. Contagious horny git.
>
> And now horny again git. Going to go take a shower. Think about sucking
> your cock and feeling you fuck me.

God, Oliver, there's a mental image to carry me home and to bed!

Love you, want you, ...

Yours.

T.

****************
Once is an accident
Twice is jazz
****************



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Sunday May 25th 8:32pm

Hey love,

> I. Am going. To kill. My brother.
>
> Setting that thought aside for the moment.
>
> I love you.

I love you, too. And I'm still willing to come over hand rough up Seth with
you.

Actually, no. That's my anger talking. Family stuff always throws me for a
loop, and this is just too....I don't know. Mean, and cruel and stupid. I
just don't get it. Or maybe I get it too much.

> Thank you - for understanding about the phone call and for not getting mad
> about the false alarm and - hey - I never promised low maintenance drama
> free boyfriend, right?

Why on earth would I be mad at you? You got a phone call that your mother
was really sick. You did what you had to do.

I love you.

> > Yours. Always. Here for you--and I'll be there, if you need me.
>
> You blow me away sometimes. Means so much that you'd even think about
> dropping everything and catching a plane because my mum, who you've never
> even met ... You're a good man, Oliver. I'm lucky. The more so because you
> didn't have to make good on that. I'm still a little shaky I guess. Hell -
> you handed over your calling card details after like, three weeks, but -
> this is one of those times when I don't seem to have words and
> really I just want to hold you.

The offer was more for you than your mom, I'm afraid; somewhat less selfless
than it looks. You need me and I'll be there. Promise. And I want to hold
you, too.

> According to Seth, I called up, he said that the parents weren’t back from
> the hospital yet, I said is she ok, he said yes, and then a few
> hours later I have a taxi burning rubber down to the house because I'm
> delusional.
>
> Lying toerag.

I can't believe he could lie to them like that. Lie to you.

> I mean - everyone's kind of worried, and I don't think my dad really slept
> while mum was overnighting it, but she was in so they could observe her
> sleep patterns and take a 24 hour spectrum of reading, and it was all
> planned. Which I'd have known if I'd called her back.

Don't torture yourself, Tom. Really.

> Anyway - there's nothing any more urgent or life threatening than last
> week and the week before, you know?

Well, that's good, at least.

> The phone call I was party to, she was called in early because they were
> rushing through the tests because she's high risk or something, and I'd
> swear he said, in so many words, they were keeping her in because she had had
> some sort of reaction to the anaesthetic and they needed her close to an
> intensive care bed. Hence the panic and the going straight there ...
>
> I don't know what the hell he was thinking.

Jesus. *Whaps Seth up the side of the head with a big 'get a clue' stick*
Didn't he know that you would panic? That he would be scaring the hell out
of you?

> I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you this on the phone - he and dad were both
> kind of hanging around, and Dad doesn't need the stress of a full
> scale row, and you didn't need to listen to one, and it wasn’t going to
> get me anywhere anyway - I'm still sorry. That was pretty weird though.
> Especially as I was still half processing things when I rang.

Don't apologise. Really. Not to me, not to anyone. And I do understand
why you couldn't talk about it, with your dad there and all.

> Did have the row. More or less. Just at really low volume in the
> kitchen at about 1.30 am ...
>
> Somehow, I brought that on my own head by fucking off to college,
> and being to busy fucking God knows what to care about my family, so he
> didn't think I'd give a shit. And I can't take a joke.

A joke? He thought that was a fucking joke??

> I'm going to kill him.

I'm back to wanting to help.

> Where do you even start?
>
> He's sixteen, he's stressed about his GCSE exams. Dad's no doubt got his
> pedal to the metal about grades and A level choices and what
> university he's going to apply for in two years time, and 'if you're going
> to be a vet'. His mum's sick, his dad's stressed, and he's not really speaking
> to his elder brother. I'm going to guess that some acting out might be understandable.
> You know, prank pizza delivery or getting pissed on alcopops or something.
> Not trying to give me heart failure.

Okay. So he misses you and he's not happy about me, and he's wanting
attention. I get that, I do. But this sort of shit is...well, it's shit.

> This has to be between me and him to sort out - I just have no idea how.

I don't know. Maybe...well, has he calmed down any about you being gay?
Like, can he talk to you without being an utter shit? Maybe you two can
talk on the phone more, about school stuff, and what he wants to do with his
life, and just...be brothers. If he's really in a twist 'cause he feels
left out of everything and ignored, maybe some big brother attention would
be good.

Unless it will turn into "you're evil 'cause you fuck guys". Trust me, not
a fun place to be.

> Getting through today was just exhausting. Mum insisted on
> cooking a proper sit down family dinner seeing as we were all there, which
> was fairly excruciating. Me and dad went of for a walk down to the pub for a pint
> before hand. Never thought I'd get to write that. He's doing ok at least -
> worried about mum, but... He asked about you. "So, that was your - friend
> you rang last night". to be exact. "Boyfriend, dad, His name's Oliver."
> and then about ten minutes later. "He a good man?" "The best."
> and then he just nodded and let it go. For my dad, that's pretty good.

*speechless* Oh wow. Oh, man. That's excellent.

And thank you, love. Love you so much.

> Had a similar sort of conversation with mum while I was helping with the
> washing up. She said that it was sweet of you to be concerned about her.
> Finally got around to asking what exactly it is that you do that has you
> visiting London so often. That kind of thing. She keeps trying to tell me
> that I shouldn’t worry about her. Wish I could stop, you know?
> Feel like crap for not calling her back though. She insist she told Ian to
> tell em to 'ring some time - it’s not urgent', but - I don't know. None of
> this would have happened if I'd been paying attention, right?

Love, stop. It's done and over and you got to see her and hug her and she's
going to be fine.

> OK - this is just getting maudlin now, and you don't need to hear that.
> Going to send this off, just in case you're being all suspense-y.
> Hopefully you're off doing something fun with your Sunday.

Fretted for a bit, then went for a nice long ride. Did the laundry.
Fretted some more. Better now.

> Going to kick around here for a bit - putting of going back to the house.
> Not really in the mood for partied-up housemates and if I stay put they
> should have gone to sleep...

Hope so. You need to sleep, baby.

Love you. Miss you.

Yours. Always.

Oliver



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Saturday May 25th 8:42pm

Hey you! This must have come in when I was replying to the other one.

> Been re-reading some of your mails, determined to try and stop myself just
> stressing round in circles about Seth. Make me smile, you do, and
> appreciate the whole small and currently deserted computer lab. Well -
> there's a couple of guys beavering away over in the far corner, but -
> close enough. Um - I appear to have two settings right now - sappy
> and horny. [Did you sleep through the alternate phaser settings bit
> on the Izzard tape? Damned useful idea that!]

I like both those settings. Very much. Purrrrrr

> > Damn. And yeah, it'll be a box. Monday will be interesting then. >;-)
>
> I am sure there ought to be something wrong with you having gotten me
> trained like Pavlov's dogs reacting to your naughty evil smile.
> Damned if I can think what it was.

Heeee! >:-)

> > I know what I *hope* it does. Why should I be the only one hard all the
> > time? Heeee!
>
> Believe me, you're not.

Oh yeah? You hard for me, Tom? Christ, just the thought of it has me
squirming in my chair.

> > You do. Trust me, you do. I hope I make you soar as well.
> > Want to make you cry out.
>
> See. You say things like that, and - you do. You did. I think I'm right in
> saying that only the fact that was a rather posh hotel with really good
> sound proofing kept us from complaints from the neighbours.

*grin* True enough. I did my share of crying out, too. Half of London
could hear me at one point, I'm sure.

> > Well, let's see. We talked about cock rings, dildos,
> > blindfolds and gags. Just to refresh your memory.
>
> Think I'd rather remember the details of how your skin tastes, how your
> legs, your sides, your chest, your prick - how you feel against me, in my
> hands.

Oh God. Now I'm *really* hard.

> Um - used the deserted computer lab time to check out
> some of these URL's. I've got the sheet folded up in my diary, Oliver.
> I'm thinking that you really weren’t kidding about the leather thing - thinking
> about how it might feel, mostly about how you'd look at me, a little about the
> practicalities of what and how much and where to find ... Not any of the
> really silly looking stuff, but - some of those pictures? Oh yeah.

Oh my God, are you serious? Really?

Oh hell. Now I've got images in my head that mean I'm going to have to step
away from the computer really shortly.

> > > > And Oliver goes off to research digital cameras......
> > >
> > > I'm a bad influence, aren't I?
> >
> > Tell me not to, and I won't. But it could be fun.... a collection of
> > pictures just for us, without the agony of film....
>
> Can't tell you not to - not going to tell you to, either.
> Although it would be pretty cool.

Right then. That's settled. Tomorrow I go shopping.

> > > Cool - report back if they pick anyone? Say hi to Jess for
> > > me - feeling pretty kindly disposed towards her for sticking up for
> > > you.
> >
> > I did, she was pleased as hell. More about lunch in a bit. They didn't
> > come up with anyone, though--they did, however, agree that you
> > are really hot and sexy.
>
> I'm glad people never say things like that to me in real life,
> because what the hell do you say?

I have no idea? Thank you, maybe? But I suggest you get used to hearing
it. 'Cause you are the sexiest man I've ever met. Beautiful and hot, all
long muscles and tight abs, beautiful thick cock, dark little nipples. You
taste so good, your skin, your mouth, your come. Want you so bad, lover.
Want to be on my knees for you, feel you inside me.

> > > Can I beg for copies of some of the photos? In the post so I
> > > don’t have to wait a month? Begging and bribery?
> >
> > You bet, love. Will drop them in the mail on Monday. Anything else you
> > want?
>
> You. All the time.
>
> /cheap shot.

Ache for you.

Stroking off, wanting you. Want your hands. Want you.

> > God, that sounds good. And fun. And good. I'm hungry all of a sudden.
> > Want to take you to bed then eat and then take you to bed again and fall
> > asleep.
>
> Mmmmm. Ice-cream in bed, even.

After I make you scream my name.

Sort of one track mind at the moment.

> When I get a place of my own, will you be able to stay when you're visiting
> with work? Would your work be ok with that? Or do they want you in the hotel
> and reedy to leap into action at any moment? I will bake before your next
> visit - something rich and decadent and portable. Just for you.

I don't think it will be an issue. I don't have to do extra stuff, usually,
and as long as I can be there on time it should be fine.

Oh God, that would be amazing.

> > We're going out to Crow Hill; looks like a good climb, lots of variety,
> > and not too far to travel.
>
> Sounds good - although I've lost track - was that 'next weekend' as in
> today? Or next weekend?

Next weekend. Sorry you missed your climb, love.

> > Heh. I don't have any cleaning done, but I had a good day. Woke up,
> > took a nice long ride, then met the girls for lunch. They were all
> > squee-ish about the pictures and Kim asked some really intense questions (well,
> > not intense for her, but probably for you--like if you top or botTom and
> > how big your cock is). They, at least, are happy I'm happy.
>
> The happy is good. I clearly have the wrong kind of friends. I think Becka
> was angling for the same sort of info, but she's a lot less up front about
> asking for it!

Lesbians. *shrug* These two aren't too shy about the asking. :-)

> > Jess says Kerry is...well, not angry, but upset. He thinks I'm making a
> > mistake and that I should never have started e-mailing you, let alone
> > fallen in love with someone so far away.
>
> Love you. Personally I think he's very very wrong, and I'm immensely glad
> that you started emailing me.

I think so too, and so am I. :-)

> > And Peter's got a new boyfriend, apparently. A civil servant who
> > (according to Kim) looks suspiciously like me.
>
> Um - flattering, I suppose?

That or sort of creepy. ;-0

> > So, I'm thinking I'll stop calling Kerry.
>
> There's nothing stopping him calling you, if he wants to. I'm
> sorry, though. Always sucks to lose friends.

Yeah. Maybe he just needs some time.

> > Not as much as I would have if you were there. But I came calling your
> > name, almost feeling your hands on me.
> >
> > > Love you. So much. Wish I could touch you, kiss you, taste you.
> > > Horny git. Contagious horny git.
> >
> > And now horny again git. Going to go take a shower. Think
> > about sucking your cock and feeling you fuck me.
>
> God, Oliver, there's a mental image to carry me home and to bed!
>
> Love you, want you, ...

Love you, too. And I'm really close to losing it all over the key board, so
I better go. To the couch.

Want you. Need you. Love you.

your Oliver.



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Monday May 26th 2.57pm

Hey beautiful,

Today's been one long game of 'headless chicken', except, now I've got time
to sit here and 'talk' with you, and there's a box in very plain brown paper
stowed in my room, ready for me to open when I get home. Kinda a big box.
Did I mention yet that I love you?

Overslept and had to pelt down here like the proverbial bat not to be late
for that tutorial, which more or less went ok (had some good solid coach
time coming back where reading my notes was a whole lot more pleasant than
letting my mind wander, which helped.) Then Becka stole me for lunch, and to
try and get me to sign up for an American lit study group. Try in the sense
'told me when it was and rightly assumed I'd be there'. Breakfast in the
form of lunch from the canteen in no way compares to the rather nice
restaurants of the last couple of weeks. And now I'm here.

*phew*

> > Um - I appear to have two settings right now - sappy and horny.
> > [Did you sleep through the alternate phaser settings bit on the Izzard tape?
> > Damned useful idea that!]
>
> I like both those settings. Very much. Purrrrrr

And you could do some real damage to the attacking alien hoards with them too
;)

> Oh yeah? You hard for me, Tom? Christ, just the thought of it has me
> squirming in my chair.

Can we curse roundly on the evils of huge ass time lags. For a moment?

> *grin* True enough. I did my share of crying out, too. Half of London
> could hear me at one point, I'm sure.

You sound amazing, lover. Beautiful.

> > > Well, let's see. We talked about cock rings, dildos,
> > > blindfolds and gags. Just to refresh your memory.

Unless their packaging policy is utterly insane, the box is too big to be a
cock ring, blindfold or gag...

Pavlovian reactions strike again.

Looking forward to getting home.

> > Um - used the deserted computer lab time to check out
> > some of these URL's. I've got the sheet folded up in my diary, Oliver.
> > I'm thinking that you really weren’t kidding about the leather thing -
> > thinking about how it might feel, mostly about how you'd look at me, a little about the
> > practicalities of what and how much and where to find ... Not any of the
> > really silly looking stuff, but - some of those pictures? Oh yeah.
>
> Oh my God, are you serious? Really?

Oliver, love, want to make you fly, remember. Want to make you look at me
with that want in your eyes for purely selfish reasons.

Nothing that looks related to lederhosen, ok? And I'm not sure that I could
wear a harness without just giggling, but - was thinking about something
less, well, weird. Leather trousers?

> Oh hell. Now I've got images in my head that mean I'm going to have to
> step away from the computer really shortly.

See? My reaction to that reaction - purely selfish.

> > > > > And Oliver goes off to research digital cameras......
>
> Right then. That's settled. Tomorrow I go shopping.

I think I need a mantra that goes 'I am not responsible for Oliver's bank
balance', because - I told you to buy the bike! This would me being all
stereotypically English and embarrassed about indulgence and stuff.

> I have no idea? Thank you, maybe? But I suggest you get used to hearing
> it. 'Cause you are the sexiest man I've ever met. Beautiful and hot, all
> long muscles and tight abs, beautiful thick cock, dark little nipples.
> You taste so good, your skin, your mouth, your come. Want you so bad, lover.
> Want to be on my knees for you, feel you inside me.

....

speechless and wanting you, lover.

> > > God, that sounds good. And fun. And good. I'm hungry all of a
> > > sudden. Want to take you to bed then eat and then take you to
> > > bed again and fall asleep.
> >
> > Mmmmm. Ice-cream in bed, even.
>
> After I make you scream my name.
>
> Sort of one track mind at the moment.

During. And I like this track.

Not so much liking the crowded lab, busy campus and bike ride between me and
my bedroom right now, but this track - I like.

> > When I get a place of my own, will you be able to stay when you're
> > visiting with work? Would your work be ok with that? Or do they want you in the
> > hotel and ready to leap into action at any moment? I will bake before your next
> > visit - something rich and decadent and portable. Just for you.
>
> I don't think it will be an issue. I don't have to do extra stuff,
> usually, and as long as I can be there on time it should be fine.
>
> Oh God, that would be amazing.

I want a place of my own. Somewhere I can share with you, build memories of
us together. I know. I know that's really sappy. It's true though,
romantic-guy. Something I think about - day dream about - for us in a couple
of months.

> > > And Peter's got a new boyfriend, apparently. A civil servant who
> > > (according to Kim) looks suspiciously like me.
> >
> > Um - flattering, I suppose?
>
> That or sort of creepy. ;-0

Um - yeah.

> > > So, I'm thinking I'll stop calling Kerry.
> >
> > There's nothing stopping him calling you, if he wants to. I'm
> > sorry, though. Always sucks to lose friends.
>
> Yeah. Maybe he just needs some time.

Hope so. Hope that he comes around and you two can still get along.

> Want you. Need you. Love you.

Yes.

Just.

Yes.

*ahem*

Going to answer both emails together, using that newfangled willpower
thingy to avoid embarrassing myself. Hopefully.

> > Thank you - for understanding about the phone call and for not getting
> > mad about the false alarm and - hey - I never promised low maintenance drama
> > free boyfriend, right?
>
> Why on earth would I be mad at you? You got a phone call that your mother
> was really sick. You did what you had to do.

I'm just sorry that it happened, you know? That you were worried - that I
was worried - and the whole not being able to explain properly on the phone
thing was really weird. And thank you for being you. I like you. Lots.

> The offer was more for you than your mom, I'm afraid; somewhat less
> selfless than it looks. You need me and I'll be there. Promise. And I want to
> hold you, too.

I know. That's kinda why it blows me away. Love you. So much.

> Jesus. *Whaps Seth up the side of the head with a big 'get a clue' stick*
> Didn't he know that you would panic? That he would be scaring the hell
> out of you?

I can't figure out if he genuinely thought I wouldn't care, or if he wanted
to prove to himself that I would, or if he just wanted to see me suffer, you
know?

> A joke? He thought that was a fucking joke??
>
> > I'm going to kill him.
>
> I'm back to wanting to help.

Romantic though it would be for us to beat him bloody hand in hand - lets
not, huh? I'm the grown up, and you're meant to be helping me figure out
how to fix it, not encouraging me to give in and slap him. Does that make
you, like, the little evil anti-conscience sitting on my shoulder tempting
me?

> > He's sixteen, he's stressed about his GCSE exams. Dad's no doubt got his
> > pedal to the metal about grades and A level choices and what
> > university he's going to apply for in two years time, and 'if you're
> > going to be a vet'. His mum's sick, his dad's stressed, and he's not
> > really speaking to his elder brother. I'm going to guess that some
> > acting out might be understandable. You know, prank pizza delivery
> > or getting pissed on alcopops or something. Not trying to give me heart failure.
>
> Okay. So he misses you and he's not happy about me, and he's wanting
> attention. I get that, I do. But this sort of shit is...well, it's shit.

I don't know. Maybe? It's not like we were ever super-close, but - maybe?

> I don't know. Maybe...well, has he calmed down any about you being gay?
> Like, can he talk to you without being an utter shit? Maybe you two can
> talk on the phone more, about school stuff, and what he wants to do with
> his life, and just...be brothers. If he's really in a twist 'cause he feels
> left out of everything and ignored, maybe some big brother attention would
> be good.

Can I be childish for a moment? Don't wanna. I don't want to talk to him,
'cos I'm going to want to kill him, and I don't want to reward this little
nightmare with 'attention prizes'.

OK. Whine over.

The whining stuff? That's not going to help. Maybe I should try just
chatting to him. See if I can figure out anything to say that doesn't turn
into a row.

> Unless it will turn into "you're evil 'cause you fuck guys". Trust me,
> not a fun place to be.

Yeah - kinda plan on avoiding that conversation wherever possible.

> > Me and dad went of for a walk down to the pub for a pint
> > before hand. Never thought I'd get to write that. He's doing ok at
> > least - worried about mum, but... He asked about you. "So, that was your -
> > friend you rang last night". to be exact. "Boyfriend, dad, His name's Oliver."
> > and then about ten minutes later. "He a good man?" "The best."
> > and then he just nodded and let it go. For my dad, that's pretty good.
>
> *speechless* Oh wow. Oh, man. That's excellent.
>
> And thank you, love. Love you so much.

Thank me? Love - not hiding you away. Never.

Not going out of my way to rub it in that yes I am still gay, but - he
brought it up, and I'm kinda hoping he's going to have a lot of time to get
used to you being an important part of my life.

> > None of this would have happened if I'd been paying attention, right?
>
> Love, stop. It's done and over and you got to see her and hug her and
> she's going to be fine.

Um - I'm obsessing about the 'what if I'd rung her back' thing, right? What
ifs never helped anyone, and - working on it.

> > Going to kick around here for a bit - putting of going back to the
> > house. Not really in the mood for partied-up housemates and if I stay put they
> > should have gone to sleep...
>
> Hope so. You need to sleep, baby.

Baby? ;)

Slept like the living dead once I finally got home. Well not exactly
straight to sleep, but pretty much straight to bed, with images of you to
keep me company. Mmm. And when I get back their later I have your present to
open.

Love you, Oliver.

I was meant to be going home and studying, and trying to catch up all the
stuff I didn’t get done over the weekend. Somehow I suspect all of that can
wait an hour or two, right?

Love you. Miss you.

Yours.

T.

****************
Once is an accident
Twice is jazz
****************



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Monday May 26th 12:05pm

Hey lover,

> Today's been one long game of 'headless chicken', except, now
> I've got time to sit here and 'talk' with you, and there's a box in very
> plain brown paper stowed in my room, ready for me to open when I get home.
> Kinda a big box. Did I mention yet that I love you?

Heee! Love you too. And rar. Let me know when you open it--though I
suspect I won't hear much from you until late tonight.

Damn, now I'm all bouncy and smug. Very smirky.

> > > Um - I appear to have two settings right now - sappy and horny.
> > > [Did you sleep through the alternate phaser settings bit on the Izzard
> > > tape? Damned useful idea that!]
> >
> > I like both those settings. Very much. Purrrrrr
>
> And you could do some real damage to the attacking alien hoards
> with them too. ;)

LOL! Go you! :-)

> > Oh yeah? You hard for me, Tom? Christ, just the thought of it has me
> > squirming in my chair.
>
> Can we curse roundly on the evils of huge ass time lags. For a moment?

Sure we can do that. Or we can concentrate on getting you some decent
privacy for our phone call on Thursday. >:-)

> > > > Well, let's see. We talked about cock rings, dildos,
> > > > blindfolds and gags. Just to refresh your memory.
>
> Unless their packaging policy is utterly insane, the box is too
> big to be a cock ring, blindfold or gag...

More bouncing. More smugness. And a lot of wishing I could be there to see
your reaction. Mostly just anticipating reading about it, though. Love
you.

> Pavlovian reactions strike again.

Oh good. :D

> Looking forward to getting home.

Even better. Me too.

> > > Um - used the deserted computer lab time to check out
> > > some of these URL's. I've got the sheet folded up in my diary, Oliver.
> > > I'm thinking that you really weren’t kidding about the leather thing -
> >
> > Oh my God, are you serious? Really?
>
> Oliver, love, want to make you fly, remember. Want to make you look at me
> with that want in your eyes for purely selfish reasons.

You've got that, trust me.

> Nothing that looks related to lederhosen, ok? And I'm not sure
> that I could wear a harness without just giggling, but - was thinking
> about something less, well, weird. Leather trousers?

~ We will now pause while Oliver's brain disengages and all his blood floods
south. This may take a moment or so. ~

Uh, yeah. That would be nice.

*whimper*

> > Oh hell. Now I've got images in my head that mean I'm going to have to
> > step away from the computer really shortly.

Again.

> See? My reaction to that reaction - purely selfish.

Oh God, you're trying to kill me. Now I've got pictures of you, hard, in
leather. Fuck. I'm going to have to lock my door.

> > > > > > And Oliver goes off to research digital cameras......
>
> > Right then. That's settled. Tomorrow I go shopping.
>
> I think I need a mantra that goes 'I am not responsible for Oliver's bank
> balance', because - I told you to buy the bike! This would me being all
> stereotypically English and embarrassed about indulgence and stuff.

You are not responsible for Oliver's bank balance. You are not responsible
for Oliver's bank balance.

> > Sort of one track mind at the moment.
>
> During. And I like this track.
>
> Not so much liking the crowded lab, busy campus and bike ride
> between me and my bedroom right now, but this track - I like.

But just think! You have a gift waiting for you at home!

That's not helping, is it?

> > I don't think it will be an issue. I don't have to do extra stuff,
> > usually, and as long as I can be there on time it should be fine.
> >
> > Oh God, that would be amazing.
>
> I want a place of my own. Somewhere I can share with you, build
> memories of us together. I know. I know that's really sappy. It's true
> though, romantic-guy. Something I think about - day dream about - for us
> in a couple of months.

Still sounds amazing. I would love that, so much. Your place, your bed,
your things. You.

> > > > So, I'm thinking I'll stop calling Kerry.
> > >
> > > There's nothing stopping him calling you, if he wants to. I'm
> > > sorry, though. Always sucks to lose friends.
> >
> > Yeah. Maybe he just needs some time.
>
> Hope so. Hope that he comes around and you two can still get along.

Hope so, too. Nothing yet.

> Going to answer both emails together, using that newfangled willpower
> thingy to avoid embarrassing myself. Hopefully.
>
> > Why on earth would I be mad at you? You got a phone call that
> > your mother was really sick. You did what you had to do.
>
> I'm just sorry that it happened, you know? That you were worried - that I
> was worried - and the whole not being able to explain properly on
> the phone thing was really weird. And thank you for being you. I like
> you. Lots.

I like you lots, too. :D And don't stress over it, Tom. It's over. Well,
that part. There's still Seth.

> > Jesus. *Whaps Seth up the side of the head with a big 'get a
> > clue' stick* Didn't he know that you would panic? That he would be
> > scaring the hell out of you?
>
> I can't figure out if he genuinely thought I wouldn't care, or if
> he wanted to prove to himself that I would, or if he just wanted to see me
> suffer, you know?

Well, I hope he's got it sorted, anyway.

> > A joke? He thought that was a fucking joke??
> >
> > > I'm going to kill him.
> >
> > I'm back to wanting to help.
>
> Romantic though it would be for us to beat him bloody hand in hand - lets
> not, huh? I'm the grown up, and you're meant to be helping me figure out
> how to fix it, not encouraging me to give in and slap him.

Yeah, I know. Just...well, a night's sleep has me much calmer about it.
Sorry, love. I get a little protective.

> Does that make you, like, the little evil anti-conscience sitting on my
> shoulder tempting  me?

That's me--debaucher, letch and encourager of the naughty. Oh, and
corrupter of innocents. So, you have a box at home, huh?

> > Okay. So he misses you and he's not happy about me, and he's wanting
> > attention. I get that, I do. But this sort of shit is...well, it's shit.
>
> I don't know. Maybe? It's not like we were ever super-close, but - maybe?

Like I said, I don't really know either. Never had a brother like Seth. :P

> > I don't know. Maybe...well, has he calmed down any about you being gay?
> > Like, can he talk to you without being an utter shit? Maybe you two can
> > talk on the phone more, about school stuff, and what he wants to do with
> > his life, and just...be brothers. If he's really in a twist 'cause he
> > feels left out of everything and ignored, maybe some big brother
> > attention would be good.
>
> Can I be childish for a moment? Don't wanna. I don't want to talk to him,
> 'cos I'm going to want to kill him, and I don't want to reward this little
> nightmare with 'attention prizes'.
>
> OK. Whine over.

It was a good whine. Well done. ;-)

> The whining stuff? That's not going to help. Maybe I should try just
> chatting to him. See if I can figure out anything to say that doesn't turn
> into a row.

I think that's a good idea. Really. And if it goes bad, I'm here to vent
at.

> > Unless it will turn into "you're evil 'cause you fuck guys". Trust me,
> > not a fun place to be.
>
> Yeah - kinda plan on avoiding that conversation wherever possible.

Yeah.

> > > He asked about you. "So, that was your - friend
> > > you rang last night". to be exact. "Boyfriend, dad, His
> > > name's Oliver." and then about ten minutes later. "He a good man?"
> > > "The best." and then he just nodded and let it go. For my dad, that's
> > > pretty good.
> >
> > *speechless* Oh wow. Oh, man. That's excellent.
> >
> > And thank you, love. Love you so much.
>
> Thank me? Love - not hiding you away. Never.
>
> Not going out of my way to rub it in that yes I am still gay, but - he
> brought it up, and I'm kinda hoping he's going to have a lot of
> time to get used to you being an important part of my life.

He's going to have a *very* long time to get used to it, love.

> > > Going to kick around here for a bit - putting of going back to the
> > > house. Not really in the mood for partied-up housemates and if I
> > > stay put they should have gone to sleep...
> >
> > Hope so. You need to sleep, baby.
>
> Baby? ;)

Baby, love, darlin', sweetie, and punkin. Well, maybe not the last two.

> Slept like the living dead once I finally got home. Well not exactly
> straight to sleep, but pretty much straight to bed, with images of you to
> keep me company. Mmm. And when I get back their later I have your
> present to open.

Oh guh. Now there's a nice picture for me. :-)

Love you, Tom.

> I was meant to be going home and studying, and trying to catch up all the
> stuff I didn’t get done over the weekend. Somehow I suspect all
> of that can wait an hour or two, right?

At least.

And I have to get through the rest of the day thinking about you, the box
and you and the box and I seem to be stuck there.

Right. Meeting. Paperwork. Debrief from Michelle. I can do this.

God I want e-mail from you later.

Love you so much. Want you. Need you.

Your Oliver.



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Monday May 26th 10.57pm

> Heee! Love you too. And rar. Let me know when you open it--though I
> suspect I won't hear much from you until late tonight
>
> Damn, now I'm all bouncy and smug. Very smirky.

And being all right and everything ;p

[In the interests of decency, and preserving what's left of my will power,
I'm going to answer the rest of this before I share the juicy details of
what I've been up to for the rest of the evening. And don’t you call me
a tease, Mr 'hints for a week'.]

> > Can we curse roundly on the evils of huge ass time lags. For a moment?
>
> Sure we can do that. Or we can concentrate on getting you some decent
> privacy for our phone call on Thursday. >:-)

Yes. Very yes. If either of the lads so much as thinks about picking up the
phone ...

Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?

> More bouncing. More smugness. And a lot of wishing I could be there to
> see your reaction. Mostly just anticipating reading about it, though. Love
> you.

Love you too. It's - 'the dildo is beautiful' - that's so not a sentence I
can write with a straight face, but - good choice Oliver, and the message
you sent with it ...

> > Nothing that looks related to lederhosen, ok? And I'm not sure
> > that I could wear a harness without just giggling, but - was thinking
> > about something less, well, weird. Leather trousers?
>
> ~ We will now pause while Oliver's brain disengages and all his blood
> floods south. This may take a moment or so. ~
>
> Uh, yeah. That would be nice.
>
> *whimper*
>
> Oh God, you're trying to kill me. Now I've got pictures of you, hard, in
> leather. Fuck. I'm going to have to lock my door.

Come shopping with me? Your first visit after my first pay check? Help me
choose something to match that mental image? Because no amount of
fashion-uncertainty is going to keep me from something that sets you off
like this. Black leather trousers, maybe a collar?

> But just think! You have a gift waiting for you at home!
>
> That's not helping, is it?

It didn't, no. I just thought of something, and I suspect you're going to
take it as a challenge. Just that someday I can imagine you getting me
sufficiently worked up that I end up in the salubrious surroundings of the
library block gents to take myself in hand.

> Still sounds amazing. I would love that, so much. Your place, your bed,
> your things. You.

My lover, his breathing, my screams.

> Sorry, love. I get a little protective.

Official alarm bells ringing. If I didn’t already know that I was head over
heels for you, the fact that I like the idea of you getting protective over
me would be enough.

> > Does that make you, like, the little evil anti-conscience sitting on my
> > shoulder tempting me?
>
> That's me--debaucher, letch and encourager of the naughty. Oh, and
> corrupter of innocents. So, you have a box at home, huh?

One box, and one instruction not to wait, and one set of lightly shredded
willpower after your last email...

> > The whining stuff? That's not going to help. Maybe I should try just
> > chatting to him. See if I can figure out anything to say that doesn't
> > turn into a row.
>
> I think that's a good idea. Really. And if it goes bad, I'm here to vent
> at.

Thank you.

> > Not going out of my way to rub it in that yes I am still gay, but - he
> > brought it up, and I'm kinda hoping he's going to have a lot of
> > time to get used to you being an important part of my life.
>
> He's going to have a *very* long time to get used to it, love.

I love you.

> > > Hope so. You need to sleep, baby.
> >
> > Baby? ;)
>
> Baby, love, darlin', sweetie, and punkin. Well, maybe not the last two.

I actually giggled when I read that. You call me sweetie face to face, and
you're getting spanked, Mr.

> > Slept like the living dead once I finally got home. Well not exactly
> > straight to sleep, but pretty much straight to bed, with images of you
> > to keep me company. Mmm. And when I get back their later I have your
> > present to open.
>
> Oh guh. Now there's a nice picture for me. :-)

Going to try and write this for you - thank you the best way I can for this.
Are you sitting comfortably? Than I'll begin.

You know how when you really really really want to be somewhere something
always gets in the way? Every step from leaving the lab. There was a huge
queue to loan out library books, I ran into people from class, there were
roadworks up around the traffic lights and the traffic was insane - all that
kind of thing. And I get home. And Ian wants to have a chat about bills, and
the landlord's dropped a reminder note round getting the carpets cleaned
before we leave, and - all sorts of *stuff* and the whole while I'm thinking
about your box. Ended up getting a bit snarly with Ian - we did figure out
in the end that he didn’t know *why* I'd done a runner at the weekend and
left my share of the housework undone, and not left him the cheque I'd
promised, and now he does everything's ok again, but... Yeah.

By the time I finally made it to my room I was kinda stressy and *yuck*, and
I didn’t want to just rip into the box in that kind of mood, you know? So I
went and took a shower, just soaked it out for a while. Clean start sort of
thing. I am so giving you shower gel next time you visit, so that we can
have a bottle each that smells like showering together.

Picture, if you will, then me being all freshly laundered and chilled out
and somewhat horny, thinking about you in the shower, and this box stashed
under the edge of my duvet.

I think you made me blush with that note, Oliver love. I did want to touch,
and, well, thinking about you is very much a constant, and ... I'd have
waited, if you'd asked me to. Thought about it. Sending the raspberry lube
was a nice touch too. Miss you so much sometimes - miss you and love you and
want you.

Feels strange, that silicon stuff - and did I thank you yet for not picking
one of those 'detached dicks' scary lifelike numbers? They've always
struck me as kinda freaky. This is - it's sexier because it's not
ridiculous. Just sleek and - you picked it, for me. Makes it really fucking
sexy. Made it so I was hard thinking about you, about it, just kind of
getting the shape of it, the feel of it in my hand.

Ended up kneeling up on the bed, stroking myself, fingering myself, half my
head trying to figure out the logistics and the angles and the rest just
lost, thinking about you, imagining your fingers inside me, the heat of your
cock sliding against me, the perfect, wonderful feeling of you riding me.

I came so hard for you, love, just a couple of hours ago, and thinking about
it, writing this for you has me rock hard again. The gift that keeps on
giving, huh?

Love you, Oliver. You make me smile, drive me crazy in the very best ways,
make me hot, make me feel wanted, loved. I love you.

Miss you, want you, need you.

Yours

T.

****************
Once is an accident
Twice is jazz
****************



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Monday May 26th 6:30pm

Christ, I just came in my pants.

More after I shower.

your
Oliver



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Monday May 26th 7:05pm

Lover,

Wow.

> [In the interests of decency, and preserving what's left of my will power,
> I'm going to answer the rest of this before I share the juicy details of
> what I've been up to for the rest of the evening. And don’t
> you call me a tease, Mr 'hints for a week'.

Feel free to tease me. Anytime.

> > Sure we can do that. Or we can concentrate on getting you some decent
> > privacy for our phone call on Thursday. >:-)
>
> Yes. Very yes. If either of the lads so much as thinks about
> picking up the phone ...
>
> Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?

Oh God, yes. And yep. Oh yeah. Lots of dirty talk, me and you getting off
together. Want to hear you.

> Love you too. It's - 'the dildo is beautiful' - that's so not a sentence I
> can write with a straight face, but - good choice Oliver, and the message
> you sent with it ...

Purrr. Glad you like it. :D

> > Oh God, you're trying to kill me. Now I've got pictures of
> > you, hard, in leather. Fuck. I'm going to have to lock my door.
>
> Come shopping with me? Your first visit after my first pay check? Help me
> choose something to match that mental image? Because no amount of
> fashion-uncertainty is going to keep me from something that sets you off
> like this. Black leather trousers, maybe a collar?

.........collar? *more whimpering* Yes. And yes, I will shop with you.
So long as you promise we can find a private spot as soon as the money
changes hands, 'cause I can't promise to be discreet. At all. And I'm
pretty sure you don't want me riding you in a shop's changing room.

> > But just think! You have a gift waiting for you at home!
> >
> > That's not helping, is it?
>
> It didn't, no. I just thought of something, and I suspect you're going to
> take it as a challenge. Just that someday I can imagine you getting me
> sufficiently worked up that I end up in the salubrious surroundings of the
> library block gents to take myself in hand.

Me? See that as a challenge? >:-)

> > Still sounds amazing. I would love that, so much. Your place,
> > your bed, your things. You.
>
> My lover, his breathing, my screams.

Another whimper would go here.

> > Sorry, love. I get a little protective.
>
> Official alarm bells ringing. If I didn’t already know that I was
> head over heels for you, the fact that I like the idea of you getting
> protective over me would be enough.

Love you. So very much.

> > > > Hope so. You need to sleep, baby.
> > >
> > > Baby? ;)
> >
> > Baby, love, darlin', sweetie, and punkin. Well, maybe not the last two.
>
> I actually giggled when I read that. You call me sweetie face to face, and
> you're getting spanked, Mr.

LOL! For some, that would be added incentive. >:-)

> By the time I finally made it to my room I was kinda stressy and
> *yuck*, and I didn’t want to just rip into the box in that kind of mood,
> you know? So I went and took a shower, just soaked it out for a while. Clean
> start sort of thing. I am so giving you shower gel next time you visit, so that we can
> have a bottle each that smells like showering together.

Oh, I *love* that idea. You romantic, you.

> Picture, if you will, then me being all freshly laundered and chilled out
> and somewhat horny, thinking about you in the shower, and this box stashed
> under the edge of my duvet.

Picturing. And just as hard as I was the first time I read this.

> I think you made me blush with that note, Oliver love. I did want
> to touch, and, well, thinking about you is very much a constant, and ...
> I'd have waited, if you'd asked me to. Thought about it. Sending the raspberry lube
> was a nice touch too. Miss you so much sometimes - miss you and
> love you and want you.

:D The lube was almost an after thought, but it just seemed perfect. Glad
you think of me, lover.

> Feels strange, that silicon stuff - and did I thank you yet for
> not picking one of those 'detached dicks' scary lifelike numbers?
> They've always struck me as kinda freaky. This is - it's sexier because it's not
> ridiculous. Just sleek and - you picked it, for me. Makes it
> really fucking sexy. Made it so I was hard thinking about you, about it,
> just kind of getting the shape of it, the feel of it in my hand.

Oh God. Can almost see you with it, learning it. Hard and horny, and just
about ready.

> Ended up kneeling up on the bed, stroking myself, fingering
> myself, half my head trying to figure out the logistics and the angles
> and the rest just lost, thinking about you, imagining your fingers inside me, the
> heat of your cock sliding against me, the perfect, wonderful feeling of
> you riding me.

So fucking glad I'm home for this and not at work. So hard, so ready for
you. The first time? Didn't even touch myself, just read and ached and
when I started to come thinking about you getting yourself ready for it,
shot at the last line.

This time I'm just sitting here, cock in hand and stroking off. Imagining
you. Wanting you.

> I came so hard for you, love, just a couple of hours ago, and
> thinking about it, writing this for you has me rock hard again. The gift
> that keeps on giving, huh?

I guess so. :D For you and me both.

Did I mention I have one?

Found it.

> Love you, Oliver. You make me smile, drive me crazy in the very best ways,
> make me hot, make me feel wanted, loved. I love you.

Every word of that is true for me, as well. Love you, Tom. You make me
ache, make me happy, make me hard all the time. Love your voice, your
hands, your arms around me. Love you. Love talking to you, listening to
you. Need you. I'm going to go take another shower.

love always,
your Oliver



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Tuesday May 27th 4.37pm

> Christ, I just came in my pants.

and I wasn't even there to lick you clean.

Your Tom

****************
Once is an accident
Twice is jazz
****************



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Tuesday May 27th 4.41pm


Hey you.

I meant to get in here earlier, but I had a sudden bout of productivity and
it seems to have stolen my day - I came in about 2, meaning to photocopy a
couple of articles and it's practically five already. I really should go and
get some lunch.

Although productivity is good - my politics lecturer was dropping some heavy
hints in his lecture today that one particular topic was going to be a
shoo-in for his paper, and that there was a recent flurry of journal
activity about it, with some new theories that we Might Be Interested In
Reading. This is me petting my folder of articles. My copy card is
practically smoking. It's good reading though - something I like about these
short journal article responses is they get up steam as a conversation in
print, so you end up with 'If Prof. X is correct in his assertion, then why
haven't the so called Cuban exiles persuaded the Florida state government to
invade the moon with elephants?" which devolves into something scarily akin
to "Professor Y is a big booby. But if we ignore that crackpot, Profs A, B,
and C, all agree that the moon is made of cheese, and so clearly mice are
the way to go." Kinda fun in a glimpsing the personalities behind the
textbooks sort of way. Possibly in a Tom is being kinda nerdy sort of way.
Beats re-reading the standard texts, anyway.

> Feel free to tease me. Anytime.

Expect email on Thursday, lover.

> > Love you too. It's - 'the dildo is beautiful' - that's so not a sentence
> > I can write with a straight face, but - good choice Oliver, and the
> > message you sent with it ...
>
> Purrr. Glad you like it. :D

I like. Much. I like that you wanted to buy it for me, and that you know me
well enough already to know that I'd think twice about using it the first
time without you're say so. Love you, of course.

> .........collar? *more whimpering* Yes. And yes, I will shop with you.
> So long as you promise we can find a private spot as soon as the money
> changes hands, 'cause I can't promise to be discreet. At all. And I'm
> pretty sure you don't want me riding you in a shop's changing room.

God, Oliver. Takes my breath away that the idea gets to you like that. If I
start to get nervous about the idea, remind me I said that. Also that we're
buying trousers, not anything worse. If that makes sense.

> > It didn't, no. I just thought of something, and I suspect you're going
> > to take it as a challenge. Just that someday I can imagine you getting me
> > sufficiently worked up that I end up in the salubrious surroundings of
> > the library block gents to take myself in hand.
>
> Me? See that as a challenge? >:-)

Evil man.

> > I am so giving you shower gel next time you visit, so that we can
> > have a bottle each that smells like showering together.
>
> Oh, I *love* that idea. You romantic, you.

Um - guilty as charged.

Would it make it more acceptable if it was couched in terms of being an aide
memoir for shower jerk-off fun? Because that too. ;)

> Glad you think of me, lover.

Think of you all the time, Oliver love. Not just when I'm fresh out of the
shower and horny as hell.

> So fucking glad I'm home for this and not at work. So hard, so ready for
> you. The first time? Didn't even touch myself, just read and ached and
> when I started to come thinking about you getting yourself ready for it,
> shot at the last line.
>
> This time I'm just sitting here, cock in hand and stroking off. Imagining
> you. Wanting you.

To steal a phrase : *whimper*

> Did I mention I have one?
>
> Found it.

Had an idea that sends shivers though me. Both of us. Thursday?

> > Love you, Oliver. You make me smile, drive me crazy in the very best
> > ways, make me hot, make me feel wanted, loved. I love you.
>
> Every word of that is true for me, as well. Love you, Tom. You make me
> ache, make me happy, make me hard all the time. Love your voice, your
> hands, your arms around me. Love you. Love talking to you, listening to
> you. Need you.

And every word of that for me. Fallen fast and hard and true, I have.

I love you, Oliver, and I can’t think that without a smile.

Love you, miss you.

Your

T

****************
Once is an accident
Twice is jazz
****************



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Tuesday May 27th 3:35pm

Hey love,

> > Christ, I just came in my pants.
>
> and I wasn't even there to lick you clean.

*speechless* :D Wow, you're really getting into this. I was just trucking
along, doing my job...then bam! Tom induced happy.

> I meant to get in here earlier, but I had a sudden bout of
> productivity and it seems to have stolen my day - I came
> in about 2, meaning to photocopy a couple of articles and
> it's practically five already. I really should go and
> get some lunch.

Yes, you should! Man, you have to eat more frequently than that! Don't
make me worry about you. ;-)

But yay on the productivity! Way to go! *Oliver stares at piles of files
and half filled in paperwork and decides to read e-mail instead.*

> Although productivity is good - my politics lecturer was dropping
> some heavy hints in his lecture today that one particular topic was going to be a
> shoo-in for his paper, and that there was a recent flurry of journal
> activity about it, with some new theories that we Might Be Interested In
> Reading. This is me petting my folder of articles. My copy card is
> practically smoking. It's good reading though - something I like
> about these short journal article responses is they get up steam as a conversation in
> print, so you end up with 'If Prof. X is correct in his assertion, then why
> haven't the so called Cuban exiles persuaded the Florida state
> government to invade the moon with elephants?" which devolves into something
> scarily akin to "Professor Y is a big booby. But if we ignore that crackpot,
> Profs A, B, and C, all agree that the moon is made of cheese, and so clearly mice are
> the way to go." Kinda fun in a glimpsing the personalities behind the
> textbooks sort of way. Possibly in a Tom is being kinda nerdy
> sort of way. Beats re-reading the standard texts, anyway.

Uh....okay. You're very cute.

> > Feel free to tease me. Anytime.
>
> Expect email on Thursday, lover.

Ohhhhh. Purrrrrrrrr and rar. And you say I'm a tease?

> > .........collar? *more whimpering* Yes. And yes, I will shop
> > with you. So long as you promise we can find a private spot as soon as
> > the money changes hands, 'cause I can't promise to be discreet. At all. And I'm
> > pretty sure you don't want me riding you in a shop's changing room.
>
> God, Oliver. Takes my breath away that the idea gets to you like
> that. If I start to get nervous about the idea, remind me I said that.
> Also that we're buying trousers, not anything worse. If that makes sense.

You won't need me to tell you. I'll be all over you. You won't be able to
forget why we're doing this.

Having said that...I'll trust you to tell me if you change your mind. But
you're right--just trousers. Not like I'm getting you fitted for gauntlets
or harnesses or exotic rigging. Just trousers you can even wear in public.
As long as I'm there and there are dark corners around. >:-)

'Cause I'm going to be right where you are. Pushing against you, touching
you. My hands on your thighs, your ass, feeling the leather get warm on
your skin. I'm going to be rubbing against you, feeling you get hard in my
hand, holding you to me as I move with you. Rocking our hips together,
sliding over you...until I need to smell the leather, then I'll move down
and nuzzle your cock through the leather, mouth you, taste it around you.
Gonna suck you off while you're wearing them, Tom. Smell you and leather,
and feel it all. Warm leather, your skin, your come...gonna get you so
wound up you'll scream my name when you come in my mouth. Then I'm going to
turn you and shove them down, just enough. Going to fuck you against a
wall, and then you'll know how hot it makes me. How sexy you are. How much
I need you.

> > > I am so giving you shower gel next time you visit, so that we can
> > > have a bottle each that smells like showering together.
> >
> > Oh, I *love* that idea. You romantic, you.
>
> Um - guilty as charged.
>
> Would it make it more acceptable if it was couched in terms of
> being an aide memoir for shower jerk-off fun? Because that too. ;)

Gah. Love you. And now I'm thinking about you jerking off in the shower
and given that, and the above, I'm even more grateful for the door on my
office. I think I'll need to lock it. Can't have Janet walking in while I
take a few moments to discreetly jerk off here, can I?

> > Glad you think of me, lover.
>
> Think of you all the time, Oliver love. Not just when I'm fresh
> out of the shower and horny as hell.

Think of you all the time, too. All the time.

> > Did I mention I have one?
> >
> > Found it.
>
> Had an idea that sends shivers though me. Both of us. Thursday?

Oh God yes. Want to do it with you. Both of us, together.

> I love you, Oliver, and I can’t think that without a smile.
>
> Love you, miss you.

I love you, Tom. I need you--in my life, in my heart. You're my love.

Now...how am I supposed to work? Sheee.

Okay, work, right after I take care of a personal issue *cough*Tom induced
hard-on*cough*, then finish up work. Groceries, then home to check e-mail,
eat. Go for a ride tonight, check e-mail, go to bed.

That's a plan. I can do that.

Love you so much.

yours, always.

Oliver



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Tuesday May 27th 10:35pm

Hey beautiful,

All revision sessions should take place in the pub. Seriously. Very
conducive to political debate, at least. Bet the regulars of the Bulls Head
never expected overhear a high-volume discussion of the ramifications of the
Elian Gonzalez case. Who knows - maybe they learned something. Ben's choice
of venue, and to be honest, not the sort of place I'd feel particularly
comfortable on my own - a local pub for local people - and that won't make
any sense unless you know the sketch. Which reminds me - mum says they show
CSI on channel 5 - I'll try and remember *when* and actually watch it some
time soon. But they have a nice pub garden, decent beer, and I got to rant,
at length, about ideology and immigration. Ben's a young conservative. He's
also a fairly reasonable human being, surprising though that may sound.
Makes for interesting arguments anyway.

> > > Christ, I just came in my pants.
> >
> > and I wasn't even there to lick you clean.
>
> *speechless* :D Wow, you're really getting into this. I was just
> trucking along, doing my job...then bam! Tom induced happy.

Not sure if I should be grinning or being ashamed of myself - getting better
when I don’t over think things. Better at trusting you to take it the right
way. Much better for *knowing* exactly how your pupils dilated and your
breathing hitched when I licked my hand clean of you.

> Yes, you should! Man, you have to eat more frequently than that! Don't
> make me worry about you. ;-)

Hey - you bug me about doing my sit ups / riding and let mum nag me about
not eating enough, yeah? Fair division of labour and all. There was no
lunch, but there was lasagne at the pub. Pretty decent for pub grub.

> But yay on the productivity! Way to go! *Oliver stares at piles of files
> and half filled in paperwork and decides to read e-mail instead.*

Thought you were meant to be making the employee of the month plaque part of
your permanent office decor?

>>Kinda fun in a glimpsing the personalities behind the
> > textbooks sort of way. Possibly in a Tom is being kinda nerdy
> > sort of way. Beats re-reading the standard texts, anyway.
>
> Uh....okay. You're very cute.

And boring you rigid - fair enough ;)

> > > Feel free to tease me. Anytime.
> >
> > Expect email on Thursday, lover.
>
> Ohhhhh. Purrrrrrrrr and rar. And you say I'm a tease?

Yeah, I do.

> Having said that...I'll trust you to tell me if you change your mind. But
> you're right--just trousers. Not like I'm getting you fitted for
> gauntlets or harnesses or exotic rigging. Just trousers you can even wear in
> public.As long as I'm there and there are dark corners around. >:-)
>
> 'Cause I'm going to be right where you are. Pushing against you, touching
> you. My hands on your thighs, your ass, feeling the leather get warm on
> your skin. I'm going to be rubbing against you, feeling you get hard in
> my hand, holding you to me as I move with you. Rocking our hips together,
> sliding over you...until I need to smell the leather, then I'll move down
> and nuzzle your cock through the leather, mouth you, taste it around you.
> Gonna suck you off while you're wearing them, Tom. Smell you and leather,
> and feel it all. Warm leather, your skin, your come...gonna get you so
> wound up you'll scream my name when you come in my mouth. Then I'm going
> to turn you and shove them down, just enough. Going to fuck you against a
> wall, and then you'll know how hot it makes me. How sexy you are. How
> much I need you.

See? Tease. On the other hand there's precisely zero percent chance of me
changing my mind now you're layering up the positive associations in my
mind. God but you're one sexy man Oliver.

> > Would it make it more acceptable if it was couched in terms of
> > being an aide memoir for shower jerk-off fun? Because that too. ;)
>
> Gah. Love you. And now I'm thinking about you jerking off in the shower
> and given that, and the above, I'm even more grateful for the door on my
> office. I think I'll need to lock it. Can't have Janet walking in while
> I take a few moments to discreetly jerk off here, can I?

Getting fired would significantly mess up our game plan, yeah. Although it
crosses my mind that maybe Janet would settle for making your life a misery
with the teasing ;)

> > I love you, Oliver, and I can’t think that without a smile.
> >
> > Love you, miss you.
>
> I love you, Tom. I need you--in my life, in my heart. You're my love.
>
> Now...how am I supposed to work? Sheee.

I'm glad I don't have to. Can give in to the warm squishy pink tinged sappy
romantic feelings you inspire with that, and then carefully carry the more
purple thoughts home to bed with me.

> Okay, work, right after I take care of a personal issue *cough*Tom induced
> hard-on*cough*, then finish up work. Groceries, then home to check
> e-mail, eat. Go for a ride tonight, check e-mail, go to bed.

Love you so much. Hate that I can't be around to cook dinner for you, go
riding with you, share your life.

No. Not going to get morbid and wistful.

Because I do get to share your life, and hell - I know you, love you, talk
to you every day - well write to you - have you make me grin, make me
blush - all this and six months ago I though that it was all hopeless, all
me were shits, and I'd never get over Kay. Love you. I don’t have the words
to tell you how much.

OK - time for me to wobble home and fall into bed. Thinking of you. As
always.

Yours

always yours.

T.



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Tuesday May 27th 7:08pm

Hey love,

> All revision sessions should take place in the pub. Seriously. Very
> conducive to political debate, at least. Bet the regulars of the
> Bulls Head never expected overhear a high-volume discussion of the
> ramifications of the Elian Gonzalez case. Who knows - maybe they
> learned something.

LOL! Sounds like fun, actually.

> Ben's choice of venue, and to be honest, not the sort of place I'd feel
> particularly comfortable on my own - a local pub for local people - and that
> won't make any sense unless you know the sketch. Which reminds me - mum
> says they show CSI on channel 5 - I'll try and remember *when* and actually
> watch it some time soon.

Oh, neat. It's a cool show.

> But they have a nice pub garden, decent beer, and I
> got to rant, at length, about ideology and immigration. Ben's a young
> conservative. He's also a fairly reasonable human being, surprising
> though that may sound. Makes for interesting arguments anyway.

Sounds like it was good. :-) Glad you had a good time. ;-)

> > > > Christ, I just came in my pants.
> > >
> > > and I wasn't even there to lick you clean.
> >
> > *speechless* :D Wow, you're really getting into this. I was just
> > trucking along, doing my job...then bam! Tom induced happy.
>
> Not sure if I should be grinning or being ashamed of myself -
> getting better when I don’t over think things. Better at trusting you to
> take it the right way. Much better for *knowing* exactly how your pupils dilated
> and your breathing hitched when I licked my hand clean of you.

Oh man. Yeah, you make me breathe harder. And no being ashamed of
yourself. :-) It's all good. Trust me.

> > Yes, you should! Man, you have to eat more frequently than that! Don't
> > make me worry about you. ;-)
>
> Hey - you bug me about doing my sit ups / riding and let mum nag me about
> not eating enough, yeah? Fair division of labour and all.

:D Okay.

> There was no lunch, but there was lasagne at the pub. Pretty decent for
> pub grub.

Mmmmm. Lasagne. Yum.

> > But yay on the productivity! Way to go! *Oliver stares at
> > piles of files and half filled in paperwork and decides to read e-mail
> > instead.*
>
> Thought you were meant to be making the employee of the month
> plaque part of your permanent office decor?

*snort* Yes, sir. Back to work, sir.

> > >Kinda fun in a glimpsing the personalities behind the
> > > textbooks sort of way. Possibly in a Tom is being kinda nerdy
> > > sort of way. Beats re-reading the standard texts, anyway.
> >
> > Uh....okay. You're very cute.
>
> And boring you rigid - fair enough ;)

No! Not at all. You're very cute, and I know very little about that of
which you speak. But not bored.

> > > Would it make it more acceptable if it was couched in terms of
> > > being an aide memoir for shower jerk-off fun? Because that too. ;)
> >
> > Gah. Love you. And now I'm thinking about you jerking off in
> > the shower and given that, and the above, I'm even more grateful for the
> > door on my office. I think I'll need to lock it. Can't have Janet
> > walking in while I take a few moments to discreetly jerk off here, can
> > I?
>
> Getting fired would significantly mess up our game plan, yeah. Although it
> crosses my mind that maybe Janet would settle for making your
> life a misery with the teasing ;)

That she would. Still, I think I'll attempt to keep from giving her
ammunition. :-)

> Love you so much. Hate that I can't be around to cook dinner for you, go
> riding with you, share your life.
>
> No. Not going to get morbid and wistful.
>
> Because I do get to share your life, and hell - I know you, love you, talk
> to you every day - well write to you - have you make me grin, make me
> blush - all this and six months ago I though that it was all hopeless, all
> me were shits, and I'd never get over Kay. Love you. I don’t have
> the words to tell you how much.
>
> OK - time for me to wobble home and fall into bed. Thinking of you. As
> always.

Love you, Tom. Simple as that.

Um, had a call from Kerry tonight. It was quick, 'cause I'd just walked in
the door and he was still at work, but he said he's sorry he's been so over
the top, and while he still feels that a long distance relationship is
trouble just asking to happen, he's glad I'm happy.

We're going to have lunch tomorrow.

Tonight I'm going to finish cleaning up around here and look for something
to read.

Wish you were here. Wish I could hold you, lover. Want to feel you in my
arms.

I'll settle for knowing you love me, and I love you, and we have a phone
call coming up, and we'll be together again soon.

I love you Tom. So very much.

yours always,

Tom



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Wednesday May 28th 8:15am

Morning, love.

Ker just left a message on my machine, changing the place where we're
supposed to eat. And he said something about someone else being there.

Not sure I like this.

Love you. I'll be in touch later on. Gotta get to work now.

your
Oliver



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Wednesday May 28th 1.54pm

> > All revision sessions should take place in the pub. Seriously.
>
> LOL! Sounds like fun, actually.

It kinda was.

> > Which reminds me - mum says they show CSI on channel
> > 5 - I'll try and remember *when* and actually
> > watch it some time soon.
>
> Oh, neat. It's a cool show.

Hope so - I'm going to assume it's above average if it holds your interest,
although the channel 5 tag does kinda worry me. Channel 5's not exactly
known for quality programming, you know?

> > Not sure if I should be grinning or being ashamed of myself -
> > getting better when I don’t over think things. Better at trusting you to
> > take it the right way. Much better for *knowing* exactly how your
> > pupils dilated and your breathing hitched when I licked my hand clean of you.
>
> Oh man. Yeah, you make me breathe harder. And no being ashamed of
> yourself. :-) It's all good. Trust me.

I do. Love you too.

> > There was no lunch, but there was lasagne at the pub. Pretty decent for
> > pub grub.
>
> Mmmmm. Lasagne. Yum.

Do I note that down as another of your favourites? Hope so, 'cos that's
something I can do with my eyes closed.

There should never, ever, ever be innuendo related to lasagne. Ran into
Toad on my way in here, so, as always, let's blame him for the state of my
brain ...

> > > But yay on the productivity! Way to go! *Oliver stares at
> > > piles of files and half filled in paperwork and decides to read e-mail
> > >  instead.*
> >
> > Thought you were meant to be making the employee of the month
> > plaque part of your permanent office decor?
>
> *snort* Yes, sir. Back to work, sir.

Doesn't suit you, but it did make me nearly snort coke all over the
keyboard.

> > > >Kinda fun in a glimpsing the personalities behind the
> > > > textbooks sort of way. Possibly in a Tom is being kinda nerdy
> > > > sort of way. Beats re-reading the standard texts, anyway.
> > >
> > > Uh....okay. You're very cute.
> >
> > And boring you rigid - fair enough ;)
>
> No! Not at all. You're very cute, and I know very little about that of
> which you speak. But not bored.

OK - my course? Bores *me* rigid sometimes. I don't want to keep banging on
about stuff that doesn't really hold you, you know? And I'm not cute. Too
tall to be cute.

> > Getting fired would significantly mess up our game plan, yeah. Although
> > it crosses my mind that maybe Janet would settle for making your
> > life a misery with the teasing ;)
>
> That she would. Still, I think I'll attempt to keep from giving her
> ammunition. :-)

Plan.

> Love you, Tom. Simple as that.

Simple, yet deadly.

> Um, had a call from Kerry tonight. It was quick, 'cause I'd just walked in
> the door and he was still at work, but he said he's sorry he's been so
> over the top, and while he still feels that a long distance relationship is
> trouble just asking to happen, he's glad I'm happy.
>
> We're going to have lunch tomorrow

This is me crossing my fingers for you. I'm glad that he made the first
move, that he realised he should apologise and feels like he can.

> Tonight I'm going to finish cleaning up around here and look for something
> to read.

Find anything good?

> Wish you were here. Wish I could hold you, lover. Want to feel you in my
> arms.

Me too, Oliver love.

> I'll settle for knowing you love me, and I love you, and we have a phone
> call coming up, and we'll be together again soon.

Also me too.

> yours always,
>
> Tom

Did you know you did that? Signed off Tom? It confused the hell out of me
for a moment and then sort of melted me - Mine, Oliver, mine - and yours,
for as long as you'll have me.

> Ker just left a message on my machine, changing the place where we're
> supposed to eat. And he said something about someone else being there.

Change of location, fair enough, but - extra people?

> Not sure I like this.

No, I can see why. Thought it was meant to be just the two of you
straightening things out?

> Love you. I'll be in touch later on. Gotta get to work now.

Good luck with lunch. Let me know how things go? Hate that I've - we've
caused friction with your friends, but - I can't be sorry.

Love you.

So much.

Your Tom.



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Wednesday May28th 6:45pm

Fuck.

Just....fuck.

Love you. Need you.

Lunch started okay--the place he switched to was actually closer to my
office, so that worked out all right, and he was alone when I got there. We
said hello, ordered something to drink and he told me he's sorry. Said that
he doesn't give me enough credit for knowing my own mind, that he
understands it's none of his business who I'm with, and that by all
accounts--he's been talking to Jess--I'm happy. Said it sounds like you're
a nice guy.

So that's all well and good, and we order our lunch, talk a little about
friends we have in common, talk about Tim's plans for renovating their back
room. Lunch comes, we start to eat, everything's more or less going well.

Then Peter walks in and sits down with us.

I couldn't breathe. I didn't know what to say, so I just sat there like an
idiot, Kerry making puppy eyes at me, saying he's sorry, but Peter wanted to
talk to me and he knew I wouldn't come if I knew.

So I say, yeah, I wouldn't have, and stand up to leave. Peter follows me
out and we wind up having a screaming fight in the middle of the sidewalk.

He says he loves me. That he never stopped, that he knows I'm punishing
myself by having a boyfriend who lives in another country, but it'll be
okay, 'cause he'll take me back so long as I get out of any trips to
England.

So I hit him.

Kerry caught up with us and dragged me away, asking what the fuck I thought
I was going. So I swung at him.

Then I went back to the office. Did nothing all day but shake and talk to
Janet.

Now I'm home and I'm getting plastered.

Sorry.

Love you. Need you.

I hate this. I hate him. I'm a mess.

> > Oh man. Yeah, you make me breathe harder. And no being ashamed of
> > yourself. :-) It's all good. Trust me.
>
> I do. Love you too.

Need you so much.

> > > There was no lunch, but there was lasagne at the pub. Pretty
> > > decent for pub grub.
> >
> > Mmmmm. Lasagne. Yum.
>
> do I note that down as another of your favourites? Hope so, 'cos that's
> something I can do with my eyes closed.

Yep. :-)

> There should never, ever, ever be innuendo related to lasagne. Ran into
> Toad on my way in here, so, as always, let's blame him for the state of my
> brain ...

What did he do? Or is it just the 'Toadness' of him? :P

> > *snort* Yes, sir. Back to work, sir.
>
> Doesn't suit you, but it did make me nearly snort coke all over the
> keyboard.

Heh. I'll call you 'sir' if you want me to. Really.

> > No! Not at all. You're very cute, and I know very little about that of
> > which you speak. But not bored.
>
> OK - my course? Bores *me* rigid sometimes. I don't want to keep banging on
> about stuff that doesn't really hold you, you know? And I'm not
> cute. Too tall to be cute.

How about 'hot'? Sexy? Beautiful, wonderful, amazing, hot hot hot.

> This is me crossing my fingers for you. I'm glad that he made the first
> move, that he realised he should apologise and feels like he can.

He's a fucking liar.

> > Tonight I'm going to finish cleaning up around here and look
> > for something to read.
>
> Find anything good?

Not really. I'm going to the bookstore tomorrow.

> > Wish you were here. Wish I could hold you, lover. Want to feel you in my
> > arms.
>
> Me too, Oliver love.

Really need it right now, Tom.

> > yours always,
> >
> > Tom
>
> Did you know you did that? Signed off Tom? It confused the hell
> out of me for a moment and then sort of melted me - Mine, Oliver, mine -
> and yours, for as long as you'll have me.

Oh my God. I had no idea. You're really in my mind. :-) My heart, my
soul.

> > Ker just left a message on my machine, changing the place where we're
> > supposed to eat. And he said something about someone else being there.
>
> Change of location, fair enough, but - extra people?
>
> > Not sure I like this.
>
> No, I can see why. Thought it was meant to be just the two of you
> straightening things out?

Yeah, well. Things didn't go so well.

> > Love you. I'll be in touch later on. Gotta get to work now.
>
> Good luck with lunch. Let me know how things go? Hate that I've - we've
> caused friction with your friends, but - I can't be sorry.

They're doing it. Not you, not me. And they're not my friends.

Love you. Want you.

Sorry.

your Oliver.

To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Thursday May 29th 9.54am

Oliver? Love? Are you ok?

Shit.

Shit shit shit - I can't phone you. It's like 5am and I'm 90% certain your
asleep, and the last thing you need is that sick panic feeling when the
phone goes at a stupid time like that. Shit.

I should have blown the climbing folks off last night and come down here.
I'm so sorry.

Please be ok, love.

Hate the idea of you hurting and I wasn't where you needed me to be. I don't
know if I could have helped but - shit - love, you shouldn't have to be on
your own.

I love you, Oliver James Kurland.

I love you, and I'm yours, and ...

Yours, love, yours.


************ Oliver's office voicemail ***********************
Thursday May 29th 5.02 am

Oliver? It's Tom. This is my compromise with myself - I'm not going to wake
you up and cause you more stress, but - I need to think that you hear my
voice, you know that I'm here, that I love you. No idea if you're even
going to come into your office today, but whenever you get this... Oliver, I
love you. If I could be with you, wrap my arms around you and just hold you,
I would. In a heartbeat. I love you.



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Thursday May 29th 10.11am

> Love you. Need you.

Love you too, Oliver, and I'm here. I just wish I could be there. You've got
me though - wherever we are. Yours, Oliver.

> Lunch comes, we start to eat, everything's more or less going well.
>
> Then Peter walks in and sits down with us.

I'm just in awe of the - something - the something of these two to pull
something like this. Wish I could have been there, wish I could have held
your hand, slid my hand down your spine - anything just so you'd know, love.

> I couldn't breathe. I didn't know what to say, so I just sat there like
> an idiot, Kerry making puppy eyes at me, saying he's sorry, but Peter wanted
> to talk to me and he knew I wouldn't come if I knew.

No shit sherlock.

> He says he loves me. That he never stopped, that he knows I'm punishing
> myself by having a boyfriend who lives in another country, but it'll be
> okay, 'cause he'll take me back so long as I get out of any trips to
> England.

Fucker.

Sorry, love, you don't need my anger. That's pretty fucking rich though.

> So I hit him.

Jesus, love. Part of me just wants to kiss your hand, fix up your knuckles,
hold you safe and warm and loved and away from this shit. - I guess I ought
to ask if he's ok, but really - don't give a flying fuck. Only about you.

> Kerry caught up with us and dragged me away, asking what the fuck I
> thought I was going. So I swung at him.

Kerry deserves everything he's got coming - shit stirring little creep.

> Then I went back to the office. Did nothing all day but shake and talk to
> Janet.

I'm glad. That she was there for you. Wish I could have been.

> Now I'm home and I'm getting plastered.
>
> Sorry.

Oh love. Oliver. Wish beyond anything I'd found this in time. Should have
told James and everyone else to leave me alone and come back here. Should
have been here for you love. No apologies, Oliver.

> I hate this. I hate him. I'm a mess.

I want to hold you right now. So bad it aches. Just pull you close, and feel
your skull in my hand, and let you cry and scream and let it out, scream it
out of your head.

> > I do. Love you too.
>
> Need you so much.

So sorry, love.

> > There should never, ever, ever be innuendo related to lasagne. Ran into
> > Toad on my way in here, so, as always, let's blame him for the state of
> > my brain ...
>
> What did he do? Or is it just the 'Toadness' of him? :P

Just pure Toadness. Nothing like it to keep your mind near the gutter.

> > And I'm not cute. Too tall to be cute.
>
> How about 'hot'? Sexy? Beautiful, wonderful, amazing, hot hot hot.

How about loving you, more than anything, and missing you, almost as much,
and kicking myself for not being where I need to be.
.
> > > Wish you were here. Wish I could hold you, lover. Want to feel you in
> > > my arms.
> >
> > Me too, Oliver love.
>
> Really need it right now, Tom.

Ache for you, love.

> > Hate that I've - we've caused friction with your friends, but - I can't be sorry.
>
> They're doing it. Not you, not me. And they're not my friends.

Right now, I'm inclined to agree. No forgetting, lover, that you have real
friends, who care about you and are happy for you and who are nearby.
Let them help? If anyone can help? You have at least one person over
here who loves you madly as well. Whatever you decide.

> Sorry.

Lover, no - no apologies. Not from you.

Oliver - I - hey for someone who doesn't know what to say, I seem to have
managed to fill enough screen. I love you. Wish I could be with you more
than just metaphorically. Wish I knew what to do or say or think that might
help this situation. Wish I was a bit more in control of my own feelings.

Love you. So much.

Your Tom.



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Thursday May 29th 9:15am

Just dragged my ass into work. Headache and all. Note to everyone: Angry
hurting Oliver and booze don't mix well.

God, thank you for the phone call. Thank you so much. I love you. I love
your voice, I love hearing you say you love me.

I'm...not great. Little to no sleep, lots of anger, which after about six
drinks resulted in a crying jag that would embarrass a lesser man, and I
look like hell. Think I'll hide in my office.

I can't get over this. I can't get over the gall of Ker, setting me up like
that. I can't believe the sheer arrogance of Peter--saying he'd take me
back? Like I didn't throw him out? Saying he still loves me? Makes me
wonder if he ever did, what he thinks love is? 'cause it's not what I feel
when I say love. Not at all.

And thinking I'd go back? That he could tell me to stop going to England
and I'd fall into his arms?

Only sorry I didn't break his jaw.

He called last night. I let the machine take it. Said he forgave me for
punching him.

God, I'm going to lose it again.

> > Love you. Need you.
>
> Love you too, Oliver, and I'm here. I just wish I could be there.
> You've got me though - wherever we are. Yours, Oliver.

Thank you...for dealing with the drama. Love you.

> > Lunch comes, we start to eat, everything's more or less going well.
> >
> > Then Peter walks in and sits down with us.
>
> I'm just in awe of the - something - the something of these two to pull
> something like this. Wish I could have been there, wish I could have held
> your hand, slid my hand down your spine - anything just so you'd
> know, love.

I'm just glad you didn't have to witness my vast maturity as I socked him
the eye.

> > I couldn't breathe. I didn't know what to say, so I just sat there like
> > an idiot, Kerry making puppy eyes at me, saying he's sorry, but
> > Peter wanted to talk to me and he knew I wouldn't come if I knew.
>
> No shit sherlock.

Really! I mean, what made him think this was a good idea??

> > He says he loves me. That he never stopped, that he knows I'm punishing
> > myself by having a boyfriend who lives in another country, but it'll be
> > okay, 'cause he'll take me back so long as I get out of any trips to
> > England.
>
> Fucker.

Yes.

> Sorry, love, you don't need my anger. That's pretty fucking rich though.

Feel free, lover.

> > So I hit him.
>
> Jesus, love. Part of me just wants to kiss your hand, fix up your
> knuckles, hold you safe and warm and loved and away from this shit. - I
> guess I ought to ask if he's ok, but really - don't give a flying fuck.
> Only about you.

Black eyes, apparently. And I missed Ker altogether, damnit. My knuckles
are fine--his head's a little soft, I guess.

> > Kerry caught up with us and dragged me away, asking what the fuck I
> > thought I was going. So I swung at him.
>
> Kerry deserves everything he's got coming - shit stirring little creep.

I think so. Just waiting for Jess to call. This is going to be huge.

God, Tim. Jesus. I don't know what Tim's going to do.

> > Then I went back to the office. Did nothing all day but shake
> > and talk to Janet.
>
> I'm glad. That she was there for you. Wish I could have been.

I'm going to send her flowers or something. Way out of her job description,
you know?

And I wish you were here too. Can't tell you any different. But we'll talk
tonight, yeah? Please?

> > Now I'm home and I'm getting plastered.
> >
> > Sorry.
>
> Oh love. Oliver. Wish beyond anything I'd found this in time. Should have
> told James and everyone else to leave me alone and come back here. Should
> have been here for you love. No apologies, Oliver.

You didn't know, love. Not like you could have known I'd be a wreck, and I
don't like the idea of you hanging out in the computer lab waiting to see if
I'm okay.

Love you.

> > I hate this. I hate him. I'm a mess.
>
> I want to hold you right now. So bad it aches. Just pull you
> close, and feel your skull in my hand, and let you cry and scream and let
> it out, scream it out of your head.

That sounds...well, awful, but lovely. I...this is where distance sucks.
Your mom, my ex...just needing each other.

> > > And I'm not cute. Too tall to be cute.
> >
> > How about 'hot'? Sexy? Beautiful, wonderful, amazing, hot hot hot.
>
> How about loving you, more than anything, and missing you, almost as much,
> and kicking myself for not being where I need to be.

Not. Your. Fault.

> > > Hate that I've - we've caused friction with your friends, but - I
> > > can't be sorry.
> >
> > They're doing it. Not you, not me. And they're not my friends.
>
> Right now, I'm inclined to agree. No forgetting, lover, that you have real
> friends, who care about you and are happy for you and who are
> nearby. Let them help? If anyone can help? You have at least one person
> over here who loves you madly as well. Whatever you decide.

Love you. Waiting to see what the fall out is. Leaning on you long
distance, lover.

And now about to attempt to work. For a bit, anyway. Headache....have to
get this stuff done though, so I'm not here late. And no way am I going to
be late--need to talk to you, Tom. Need to be close, to be laughing and
loving and listening to you.

I love you. Again and always.

Your Oliver


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