To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Thursday May 29th 2.12

Hey you,

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

This would be me giving you very gentle hugs, and massaging your neck as
gently as I can, and bringing ice water and OJ and pain pills...

I don't think they mix so good for most people, but it always seems like
such a good idea at the time.

Drink plenty of water, love, and don't push yourself too hard, yeah?

> 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 love you. What else is there to say?

> 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.

Oh love, wish I were otherwise. Or the situation was - you I wouldn't change
at all. Love the passion in you, the strength of your feelings, the fact
that you're not that lesser man. Love you.

Janet doing a good job of guarding your door?

> I can't get over this. I can't get over the gall of Ker, setting me up like that.

I'd like to say that maybe he thought he was acting in your best interests,
but seeing as he out and out lied to you, finding it kinda hard to keep to
that thought. Maybe he didn't know what Peter was going to say?

> 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.

All I can think is that maybe things happened differently in Peter-world
than in the real one. Except, if he's so in love with you, why wait till
now? Why not 6 months ago?

> 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.

Purely selfishly, it's good to see those words. Love you. So much. This
isn't punishment. This is love and some inconvenient geo-politics.

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

Infuriating though it is, I'll take him forgiving you over him suing you, or
calling the police and having you arrested for assault, love. He's still
operating out of his own personal reality isn't he?

> God, I'm going to lose it again.

Breathe, lover, breathe. Or possibly scream and find something you can throw,
if that helps more. Fuck I wish I could be there Oliver. In my head I'd be
able to pull of the whole rock of support thing without getting angry and
scared and upset alongside you.

> > > 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.

Love you, Oliver. Not going to leave you to deal with anything on your own,
unless you want me to.

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

Figure you probably have enough anger for two - and I've mostly calmed down.
Until I think about it again. Except - he can't be all bad if there was
something in him for you to love - no one changes that much do they? On the
other hand - no. The only thing that makes a material difference to my
opinion of him is that he hurt you love - people who hurt you don't get to
crawl onto the good books. Not even the neutral books.

> > 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 what Tim's going to do.

This would be more hugging and me squeezing your hand, and wishing I knew your
friends so I could say something convincingly reassuring. Tim's Kerry's
partner? I've got that wrong, haven't I? 'cos you don't know the creepy
you-a-like, so - Tim going to feel honour bound to take sides? Yay for the
never ending playground bullshit that is human relations.

> > > 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?

I should say. But then you're hardly the standard boss / secretary team.

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

No way am I not talking to you tonight, Oliver-love. Need to hear your voice,
talk to you.

> > 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.

I'm not lurking in the computer lab I'm revising. And worrying about you.
And loving you. I'd be doing that anyway, so I might as well be near my
email.

Went back to James' place last night with the climbing lot after we got back
from the wall - figuring out how to transfer everything over to the second
years, and who's going to do what on Sunday and none of that was the
slightest bit important, lover, not compared to you.

> > 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.

Yeah. Hate being so dependent on times and machines and accounts and stuff
to even talk to you. Hate that I couldn't be there with you. Want so bad to
touch you, check for myself that you're really ok, let you know without all
these stupid words what I feel. I love you, and I wouldn't change this for
something with less geography and no you. Not for anything.

> 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.

This would be me dropping butterfly kisses on your temples and bringing you
yet another pint of water.

I'm making a concerted effort to do some more of the reading for this stupid
hippie seminar course, so I'm going to be in the library all day, love, and
yeah - more or less tied to this machine.

I love you.

Your Tom.

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



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Thursday May 29th 2.29pm

I've managed to snag one of the corner machines, right at the back of the
room, so I've got space to spread out my folders and I'm looking out into
the room. You know what I can see from here?

The guy in the row in front is passing notes to this girl sitting facing
him, real subtle, like he doesn't have to half stand up each time to push
them across. He's done that four times now. The girl's trying really hard
not to giggle when she's reading them.

There's a pigeon on the windowsill watching us like we're fish in an
aquarium. Seems to be enjoying the show.

And some kapa-slapper's having trouble with the printers, and I swear I can
see the whole of that Eddie Izzard 'Control P Print' sketch running above
her head in a speech bubble. I'm trying not to let on that I'm watching.

The fifth note was apparently very funny - she laughed.

OK - back to the practical application of linguistic theories now.

I still love you.

T

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



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Thursday May29th 12:11pm

> > Just dragged my ass into work. Headache and all. Note to everyone:
> > Angry hurting Oliver and booze don't mix well.
>
> This would be me giving you very gentle hugs, and massaging your neck as
> gently as I can, and bringing ice water and OJ and pain pills ...
>
> I don't think they mix so good for most people, but it always seems like
> such a good idea at the time.
>
> Drink plenty of water, love, and don't push yourself too hard, yeah?

Lots of water, lots of staring into space. But I'm coming around. Nice
salad for lunch, e-mail from you...life is better.

> > 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 love you. What else is there to say?

Nothing that means as much.

> Janet doing a good job of guarding your door?

She's a bulldog. I've upped it to flowers and dinner.

> > I can't get over this. I can't get over the gall of Ker, setting me up
> > like that.
>
> I'd like to say that maybe he thought he was acting in your best
> interests, but seeing as he out and out lied to you, finding it kinda hard
> to keep to that thought. Maybe he didn't know what Peter was going to say?

I honestly don't know. But I'm pretty sure he had a fair idea. Maybe not
that Peter would say he still loves me, or that he'd take me back (God, that
makes me choke) but that he was going to try to get me to break up with you,
for whatever reason.

> > 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.
>
> All I can think is that maybe things happened differently in Peter-world
> than in the real one. Except, if he's so in love with you, why wait till
> now? Why not 6 months ago?

Again, I don't know. Well, six months ago I was alone, yeah? Still missing
him, still a wreck. Now I'm happy, and in love and he's lost. He hates to
lose. He's a lawyer.

> > 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.
>
> Purely selfishly, it's good to see those words. Love you. So much. This
> isn't punishment. This is love and some inconvenient geopolitics

:-D 'inconvenient geopolitics - love it. Love you.

> > He called last night. I let the machine take it. Said he
> > forgave me for punching him.
>
> Infuriating though it is, I'll take him forgiving you over him
> suing you, or calling the police and having you arrested for assault,
> love. He's still operating out of his own personal reality isn't he?

Yeah, he is, and yes, you're right. He could just as easily pressed
charges. Should be happy he didn't, I guess. But mostly I'm just pissed he
called at all.

> > > Sorry, love, you don't need my anger. That's pretty fucking
> > > rich though.
> >
> > Feel free, lover.
>
> Figure you probably have enough anger for two - and I've mostly
> calmed down. Until I think about it again. Except - he can't be all bad
> if there was something in him for you to love - no one changes that much do
> they?

The scary part? I don't think he's changed at all. It's just that this
side wasn't directed at me before. I used to love how possessive he could
be, how strong and dominant. Now it's just...unhealthy. It looks different
from this side.

> On the other hand - no. The only thing that makes a material difference to my
> opinion of him is that he hurt you love - people who hurt you don't get to
> crawl onto the good books. Not even the neutral books.

God, I love you so much.

> > I think so. Just waiting for Jess to call. This is going to be huge.
> >
> > God, Tim. Jesus. I don't what Tim's going to do.
>
> This would be more hugging and me squeezing your hand, and wishing I
> knew your friends so I could say something convincingly reassuring. Tim's
> Kerry's partner?

Yeah, he is.

> I've got that wrong, haven't I? COs you don't know the creepy
> you-a-like, so - Tim going to feel honour bound to take sides?

I think Tim's going to have to either come down hard, which will hurt--if
not kill--his relationship with Kerry, or he's going to say not very much
and slide himself so far off to the edge that it'll be Kerry/Peter and
Tim-by default, and me. Or maybe me, Jess and Kim. I dunno. I don't care
right now, I'm so tired of it.

Think Kerry's pretty much ruined any chance at being friends with me, though.

> Yay for the never ending playground bullshit that is human relations.

Yep.

> > > 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?
>
> I should say. But then you're hardly the standard boss / secretary team.

Yeah, I guess. Janet's...proving to be someone I can count on. Here and
out of the office. BTW--Brett got wind of something happening and offered
to take care of whatever I needed him to do. The way he said it made me
pretty sure he meant Peter and not work. Huh. Who knew?

> > And I wish you were here too. Can't tell you any different. But we'll
> > talk tonight, yeah? Please?
>
> No way am I not talking to you tonight, Oliver-love. Need to hear
> your voice, talk to you.

Seven hours. Love you. Need you.

Want you.

> I'm not lurking in the computer lab I'm revising. And worrying about you.
> And loving you. I'd be doing that anyway, so I might as well be near my
> email.
>
> Went back to James' place last night with the climbing lot after
> we got back from the wall - figuring out how to transfer everything over
> to the second years, and who's going to do what on Sunday and none
> of that was the slightest bit important, lover, not compared to you.

Again: Love you. Thank you.

> > > 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.
>
> Yeah. Hate being so dependent on times and machines and accounts and stuff
> to even talk to you. Hate that I couldn't be there with you. Want
> so bad to touch you, check for myself that you're really OK, let you know
> without all these stupid words what I feel. I love you, and I wouldn't
> change this for something with less geography and no you. Not for anything.

That's it exactly. The hard parts are better than the best parts with
someone else.

Thank you for your random e-mail too. I love hearing about your day, what
you see, what you read. Makes me feel closer to you, like I can see you and
be there. I can hear her laugh as she reads the notes. Can see you
watching and grinning and looking away. Can smell you, can almost reach out
and touch you.

Want you, Tom. Want to sit next to you and touch your hands, want to
whisper in your ear. Want to hear you saying my name. I want to walk with
you again.

Talk to you tonight, love. I'll call as soon as I get home.

Love you.

Always, your Oliver.




To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Thursday May 29th 6.03 pm

> > Drink plenty of water, love, and don't push yourself too hard, yeah?
>
> Lots of water, lots of staring into space. But I'm coming around. Nice
> salad for lunch, e-mail from you...life is better.

That's good to hear.

> > Janet doing a good job of guarding your door?
>
> She's a bulldog. I've upped it to flowers and dinner.

Also good - I appreciate people who take care of you .

> Again, I don't know. Well, six months ago I was alone, yeah? Still missing
> him, still a wreck. Now I'm happy, and in love and he's lost. He hates to
> lose. He's a lawyer.

Oliver, love, while I might, under some weird 'romantic burbling' drug,
point out that you are indeed a prize of a man, a gem, and so on - that's
fucked. Peter ... damn I'm just going to have to make sure that you stay
happy and loved just to prove something to him aren't I? Handily that was
pretty much my plan anyway.

> > Purely selfishly, it's good to see those words. Love you. So much. This
> > isn't punishment. This is love and some inconvenient geopolitics
>
> :-D 'inconvenient geopolitics - love it. Love you.

Good. Love you too.

> Yeah, he is, and yes, you're right. He could just as easily pressed
> charges. Should be happy he didn't, I guess. But mostly I'm just pissed
> he called at all.

Man really doesn't get it, does he?

> > Figure you probably have enough anger for two - and I've mostly
> > calmed down. Until I think about it again. Except - he can't be all bad
> > if there was something in him for you to love - no one changes that much do
> > they?
>
> The scary part? I don't think he's changed at all. It's just that this
> side wasn't directed at me before. I used to love how possessive he could
> be, how strong and dominant. Now it's just...unhealthy. It looks different
> from this side.

This would be me sliding my arms around you gently. Don't know what to say,
lover.

> I think Tim's going to have to either come down hard, which will hurt--if
> not kill--his relationship with Kerry, or he's going to say not very much
> and slide himself so far off to the edge that it'll be Kerry/Peter and
> Tim-by default, and me. Or maybe me, Jess and Kim. I dunno. I don't
> care right now, I'm so tired of it.

More of that hugging and finger combing your hair and quietly loving you stuff.

> Think Kerry's pretty much ruined any chance at being friends with me, though.

Well - yes.

> Yeah, I guess. Janet's...proving to be someone I can count on. Here and
> out of the office. BTW--Brett got wind of something happening and offered
> to take care of whatever I needed him to do. The way he said it made me
> pretty sure he meant Peter and not work. Huh. Who knew?

I'm glad - teasing aside he seemed like a decent guy, and you've knowing him
as a bit more than just colleagues for a while now.

> > No way am I not talking to you tonight, Oliver-love. Need to hear
> > your voice, talk to you.
>
> Seven hours. Love you. Need you.
>
> Want you.

Love you. I know I promised you teasing email today. I just can't seem to
get myself in the mood to write it - not that I'm not aching for you, but
I'm not really in a nailing you through the mattress sort of head space. More
somewhere over in slow and gentle and intense and loving, making sure you're
OK, making sure you know, deep down in your bones, that you're loved and
needed and valued, making sure we're OK, making sure you feel it, making
sure it's me you feel in your skin, and only pleasure, no pain, no anger, no
regrets.

> > Yeah. Hate being so dependent on times and machines and accounts and
> > stuff to even talk to you. Hate that I couldn't be there with you. Want
> > so bad to touch you, check for myself that you're really OK, let you know
> > without all these stupid words what I feel. I love you, and I wouldn't
> > change this for something with less geography and no you. Not for anything.
>
> That's it exactly. The hard parts are better than the best parts with someone else.

Love you, so much.

> Want you, Tom. Want to sit next to you and touch your hands, want to
> whisper in your ear. Want to hear you saying my name. I want to walk with
> you again.

Yes.

Just yes.

All of that and more.

> Talk to you tonight, love. I'll call as soon as I get home.

I'm going to head back in a bit - there's two more articles in this section
[this course is such a pile of wank] and I've promised myself a good hard
ride as a reward, and a decent dinner. Be home before 5 your time.

I love you.

Yours, my love, yours.

T.

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



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Thursday May 29th 6.54 PM

Oliver, love, I'm heading off into the wider world where 'happiness' in fact
means the feeling of riding and the promise of your voice soon.

Love you.

T.

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



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

Oliver didn't even wait until the door closed behind him before he was throwing his suit jacket over a chair in the living room and grabbing the portable phone. He needed to hear Tom's voice too badly, needed to lay down on his bed and just talk. He hadn't felt so off center and upset in months; Tom could balance him.

He went into his room and tossed the phone on the bed, unwilling to actually strip off the rest of his work clothes while he tried to be civil to whoever would answer at the other end--he didn't think Tom would much appreciate his roomies being treated to the sounds of Oliver getting naked. And with Oliver's luck, it would be the flatmates who answered the phone.

When he was dressed in a loose t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts he threw himself on the bed and reached for the phone. As he dialled, he rolled onto his back, catching sight of his nightstand out of the corner of his eye. He knew what was in the drawer, knew what they'd planned for this call...but talking was more important at the moment. Maybe they could work around to getting off, later, if they had time. After his heart had stopped aching. He finished dialling and listened to the clicks as the overseas line was connected and the phone started to ring in England.
 
"Hello?"

Oliver had been right - that wasn't Tom's voice.

"Hi. Is Tom there?"

"Sure," came the easy reply, and then "Tom!?" bellowed away from the phone and presumably upstairs. Somewhere too far away for Oliver to make out the response, but clearly there was one. "Phone!"

The voice came back on the line. "He's just grabbing the other phone."

The sound of another extension picking up made the line fuzzy, blurring Tom's "Got it - bye Ian." And then another click and the line was theirs.

"Oliver?"

"Love," Oliver said, hating how his voice sounded, scratchy and needy. He hated that Tom would worry, hated that he couldn't even get one word out without sounding like he was about to lose his control.

"Oliver, love, you OK?" There was half a moment of silence, and Oliver could just picture Tom biting his lip. "It's good to hear your voice."

Oliver took a breath and closed his eyes, letting himself float. Let himself feel safe. "You too, love," he said. "I'm okay, really. Just a hard day, you know? And I just...I just really needed to hear you." By the time he'd gotten that much out he was already sounding better. "Played your voice mail about a hundred times," he admitted with a grin.

"Sorry it wasn't more, or sooner, or ... something. Guess it doesn't matter so much, given that I've got you now."

Oliver laughed softly, relaxing into his mattress. "You've got me, Tom. Always." God, it was just so easy. Tom's voice, and he calmed, Tom's concern and he was ready to let everything go. He knew it would be back, that it would be confusing and painful later, but for now there was Tom in his ear and that was enough.

"Love you. Don't think I could ever get tired of hearing you say that." There was a soft tone in Tom's voice. Thanks to their week together Oliver could picture the expression that went with it - soft and loving and ever so slightly embarrassed.

He actually took a couple of seconds to enjoy the image before replying. "Hey. Love you. You look good like that."

He caught the brief sputter before Tom had the presence of mind to turn it into, "Thank you - psychic man."

"Just know you. And I like that look," Oliver said with a smile. He stretched on the bed, his eyes still closed, his mind full of what Tom looked like. "Take me out of my day, love. What did *you* do?"

"Loved you. Went biking in the rain - which probably makes me insane. Came back here to dump my bags and then went out again just for the hell of it. Real steady heavy rain, keeping everyone else indoors and making it dark early. Probably washed all that linguistics stuff straight back out of my brain, but - felt good, you know?"

"Yeah. You know, I love rain in summer. Not quite warm enough yet for me to really get into it, but I love being out just before a thunderstorm, when the air's really close, and you can feel it building. The best part is just when the storm breaks, and it rains so hard the drops bounce back off the pavement, like a couple of feet. Soaks you in about three seconds. Then it's time for a blanket and a cup of tea."

Oliver opened his eyes, not sure where all that had come from. Oh well, that was the sort of stuff he wanted to share.

There was a smile in Tom's voice as he replied. "Cool - and yeah, makes you appreciate a hot shower all the more when you get in. Thunderstorms are just - very cool. I love how everything feels afterwards - clean and crisp and fresh."

"And wet. Wet is cool, too. Makes the worms happy." Oliver grinned, knowing he'd slipped into the ridiculous; he blamed Tom--the shower comment had derailed his brain. "Where are you? Your room?"

"Yup - sat on the bed, with the window open so I can hear the last of the rain."

Oliver glanced at his own window, for once hating the sunshine. He wanted to share. Oh well.

"Right out of the shower?" he asked, oh so very casually.

"Pretty much - got as far as finding some shorts, but that's about it - you're home early." Tom agreed easily.

"I ducked out a little early," Oliver admitted with a smile. "Plus, the whole stripping on the way to the bedroom and getting into more comfortable clothes while dialling saved a few seconds, too."

He ran his hand over his stomach, rucking up his T-shirt a little. Tom in shorts and nothing else; was enough to make him purr, and more than enough to start getting him hard.

"Always be prepared, huh?" The chuckle in Tom's voice was perfect - exactly what he needed to hear.

"That's me--always ready. Except when I'm not. God, you sound good. Miss you." Eyes closed again, Oliver drew a picture of Tom in his mind--the room he'd never seen but didn't need to, Tom all he needed. His hand teased along the waistband of his boxers, fingers just tracing the skin as he lost himself to Tom's voice. So close to being together.

"Miss you too, love. OK, your turn for show and tell - curled up on the sofa?"

"Uh, no. Sprawled on my bed, actually. Boxers, T-shirt, flat on my back."

"Sounds good, sexy-man." He could imagine the faint flush that would be climbing Tom's cheeks in the pause that followed as his brain caught up with his mouth. Then there was another bitten off chuckle. "You sleep with a teddybear on the bed?" Tom teased.

Oliver grinned and looked over at Mortimer. "Yeah. English variety." He shifted on the bed, wiggling just enough to make the cotton of his boxers drag across his cock, just enough friction to feel good. "Rather sleep with you, though. Rather be awake with you, too."

"Yeah, the toys have their limits." Tom smiled. "And I'd definitely rather be with you - awake, asleep, alone, in company - whatever, you know?"

Oliver grinned and rolled on his side to pick up the bear in question. "Yeah. Still, kind of nice to have him here. Not you, but...sometimes a toy is nice to...have?" He was trying not to laugh, the talk of toys and the state of his prick pulling his mind to its inevitable destination. Poor Tom. Sex fiend for a boyfriend.

Of course it sounded like Tom's thoughts were headed the same way. "Yup. Toys, especially toys your lover chose for you, definitely of the good."

Oliver chuckled again, tossing Mortimer onto the pillow in favour of shifting position again, rubbing his cock through his boxers. "Liked? The e-mail you sent the next day--God, Tom. Made me so hard for you. Made me come, just thinking about it." He rubbed a little harder, his prick getting harder, his breath speeding.

"Liked is a contender for understatement of the year, yeah." Oliver could hear Tom shifting. "I pretty much wasn't expecting to like it quite as much as I did." He confessed.

"Can be...weird, trying something for the first time." Oliver slipped his hand into his shorts, fondling his balls gently. "The way you described it though...blew my mind. Made me want." And it did, made him want then, made him want now, and his cock twitched hard at the thought of Tom doing it again. Of listening of using his own. He gasped softly and arched into his own hand.

"I'm glad," Tom started to reply. "Oliver?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing right now?"

Oliver grinned and rolled his eyes at the same time. "What do you think?"

"Yeah - and if I was there you can bet that's where my hands would be too, lover."

"I should hope so." Oliver stroked himself slowly, not really wanting to rush, just letting Tom's voice carry him. "And where *are* your hands, lover?"

"Guess?" Tom offered hopefully. "I'm thanking this would be a silly time for me to be getting coy, right?"

"I think coy went out the window the first time you fucked me. God, I want you."

Oliver sat up and stripped off his shorts, cursing the fact that he'd even bothered putting on the T-shirt. He wanted naked.

"Love - God - love that tone in your voice, love you wanting me." Tom's own voice was starting to get breathless. "Sexy, beautiful, hungry you."

"Hold on," Oliver said. "I'm stripping off--" He dropped the phone and pulled the T-shirt off over his head, then lunged for the drawer in his nightstand. He grabbed the lube and his toy, dropping them both on the bed as he picked the phone back up. "Tom? Naked for me?"

"Can be. Will be. Love you." He could hear Tom shifting , presumably stripping, under the breathless words.

Oliver held his breath, tried to calm down. His hands seemed to operating on different instructions, though, opening the lube and filling his room with the scent of too-sweet raspberries as he slicked his fingers.

"What are the chances of getting interrupted, love? Because if we keep going I'm not stopping until we've both come, and I don't care what they hear if they pick up the phone." But Tom probably did, so it was only fair to warn him. Oliver slid a slipper hand over his erection, moaning softly.

"I warned them, so their problem if they try and butt in. Plus I'd have to kill them." Tom interrupted himself with a gasp. "Talk to me lover, please?"

"Right here, love. God, I want you. Want to feel you, your hand on me, stroking me. Want to touch you, take you." Oliver's hand tightened around himself and he forced himself to slow down. "Want to lick up the side of your cock and hear you wanting me. Can almost taste you, love."

"God," Tom breathed. "Oliver, God you just send me sky high, so fast, hearing you, remembering you, imagining you."

"Yeah. So, imagine me touching you. My hand on you, my mouth moving over your chest." Oliver let his slick fingers glide over his balls, and further back. "God, Tom, I need you. Need you in me."

"Lover, I've got you. Want you to feel me, want you stretched with my fingers, teased and slick and knowing how hard you make me, how wanted you are." Tom's voice sped up, running away with him.

"Oh God." Oliver closed his eyes tightly, back arching as his own fingers pressed into his body, as he opened himself. "Oh fuck. God, Tom. Please. Tell me? With me?"

"Tell you? Tell you that I'm hard, that I'm trying to keep somewhere on that line between touching myself enough not to go crazy, and not so much that I can't remember how to speak. Or tell you to use your fingers for me, to think of me sliding one finger, maybe two, inside you, curling and rocking them?"

Oliver gasped as his fingers curled. The phone was wedged between his shoulder and his ear, one hand around his cock, the other moving restlessly below him. He knew it was awkward, knew it would get more so--but it didn't matter. He could picture Tom, long legs spread as he stroked himself, his face reflecting his pleasure, and that drew another moan from him. Tom was beautiful.

"Can feel you," he whispered. "Deep in me. Want to be in you, Tom. Want to--" he gasped as his fingers brushed his gland, his stomach curling. "Want to be in you. Want to hear you taking the dildo, want to hear you getting ready for it." He shuddered, need quickly getting out of control, his fingers moving faster.

Tom's voice was breathy in his ear, making the miles feel like nothing.  "Wait for me lover?" There was fumbling, rummaging, the sounds of Tom moving on his bed. "You want me to? Or you want me to tell you how damn hot listening to you gets me, how you look in my head, and then, when - when you come." Tom interrupted himself with what sounded a lot like a whimper

Oliver groaned and shut his eyes as tightly as he could, both hands stilling as he fought not to come.

"God. Tom, please." He relaxed a little, pulling his fingers from his ass and reaching for his own dildo. "Want it. Want to do this with you, want to hear you when it goes into you. Want to come with you."  He fumbled with the lube, finally getting the tube open again and spilling some onto his hand.

There was more silence, more creaking of bedsprings and then Tom's voice was back on the line, a little of the huskiness drowned out in amusement. "How come porn makes this sound so easy - they must have like a third hand or something." Another pause and an 'oh God' that Oliver couldn't quite tell if it was away from the phone or just that quiet. When his voice came back it was back to turned-on-Tom-babble "God - Oliver. You do, though, get me so hot, and - oh yeah - you have the most incredible, wonderful ideas, and is it totally twisted of me to think that in a very real way this is you, doing this to me, stretching me out and making me pant?"

Oliver tried to purr, but it came out somewhat strangled as he slicked the toy and started to finger himself again.

"Is me, lover. Me taking you, me loving you. The rest is just...help."  He slid his fingers out of his ass again, stroking heated slick over his balls. With a shuddering breath he rested the blunt tip of the dildo at his entrance and said, "Ready?"

"Yes," Tom hissed, words interrupted with hitching breaths. "Want you in me, me in you, love you Oliver, please?"

Oliver moaned, the sound of Tom's voice going right through him, making his cock throb and his balls ache. Slowly, he pushed the toy into his ass, gasping as it stretched him.

"Oh God. Oh God. Tom--"

He had to squeeze the base of his erection as he nudged his gland with the toy, his breath coming fast and faster.

"Full," he gasped, starting to fuck himself.

"Yes - God yes." Tom's voice and Tom's breathing were wrapped around him, a low familiar stream of half-words that painted a picture of his lover arched back in pleasure more clearly than any description could have done, and gradually the two of them found a rhythm, the gasps turning into 'love you' repeated over and over and over in his ear and his hips moved in time to it.

Oliver felt the tremors start in his legs. He stroked his cock faster, his hand brushing over the weeping head as he thrust the toy deeper into his body. He nailed his gland and cried out, losing his rhythm briefly. "Soon, love. Oh God, I love you." He pulled the toy out and slammed it back in, hitting his prostate over and over, fast now as he listened to Tom. "Gonna come," Oliver moaned.

"Yes," and the growl in Tom's voice matched the burn and the ache, and the sudden bitten-off silence swept him away.

Oliver's eyes were shut tight as he came, seeing nothing but Tom. He could see it, feel it...His own prick throbbed in his hand as he shot, his body tight around the dildo.

"Oh God, yeah--" he groaned, his climax rolling through him. He could hear the soft, controlled noises Tom had to let out, the ones that had to escape even as his lover fought to be quiet.

Oliver made enough for both of them. The groans and grunts, and even a long drawn out growl as he spent, come flowing over his hand and spraying over his belly and thighs.

When he could focus again Tom's gulping breaths and quiet, intense words were already holding him. "Love you, so much. God yeah. So good, Oliver."

Another shudder went through him as Oliver eased the dildo out and tossed it in the general direction of the dirty laundry. Warm and satisfied he almost rolled over, looking for Tom's arms.

"Love you," he whispered. "Christ, that felt good. Hearing you--feeling you with me. Love you so much." God, he was a mess. Sticky and wet and suddenly sleepy.

From the shifting and muttering and creaking bedspring at the other end of the line it sounded as though Tom too was getting himself comfortable, cleaning himself up.

"Love you." Tom's voice cracked a little, a sad sort of half laugh. "God, I miss you being here."

Oliver smiled a little as he reached for a T-shirt

"Not quite the same without the kisses, is it?" he said, wiping at his belly.

"Still you. Liking the fact that it's you really quite a lot. God, I'm still all tingly.  You OK there, lover-mine?"

Belly as clean as it was going to get until he made it to the shower, Oliver wiped his legs off and sprawled on the bed, skin still flushed.  "Shaky," he said with a broad grin. "And still kinda trembly. God, Tom. I came so hard, you made my toes curl. How're you?"

"Love you." The smile was evident in Tom's voice, and Oliver could just picture it, broad and sated, and as though he still hadn't quite got his head around the wonder of it all. "I think you might have wiped me out. Ow - OK and I bit my lip trying not to wake anyone up ... and I'm grinning like a mad thing. You blow my mind, love. Even from all the way over there."

Oliver closed his eyes as he reached for a pillow, wrapping his arms around it in a pale imitation of holding Tom. He smiled, though, and said, "Like to kiss it better. Feel better, though, gotta tell you. All days should end like this. You and me, together."

"Yeah." There was a soft chuckle. "Does rather punch holes in the whole stress thing, doesn't it?"

"No stress in this body, lover," Oliver said, still smiling.  "Hey. Love you. Thank you. For calling my voice mail and for being...wonderful."

The sun was just starting to move behind the building opposite his, and Oliver could feel night moving in.

"I'm -- I love you. Wish there was more I could do, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. But what you do? More than enough. It's hard, we knew it would be. But honestly, even if you were here--I would have reacted the same way. The sheer arrogance of them--it just pushed all my buttons." Oliver rolled onto his side, grinning at the twinges he got from the movement. "But you're easing the aches right out of me, love."

"Voice massage," Tom smiled. "And I'm not going to say that I wish I could be there to do a proper job in person,'cause I figure you know that."

"I know it. And you know how badly I want that, yeah? Wish you were here. Want to see you, Tom."

Oliver spoke quietly, almost but not quite content. He wouldn't be totally content until he was actually with Tom, but this was a close second, almost good enough.

"Love you. Hearing you is good too, though."

"Yeah, it is. And hey, no interruptions yet, that's a plus."

"I, um, might have got a bit forceful about the whole once a week no invading my privacy thing. And bribed them with chocolate cinnamon ice-cream for tomorrow."

Oliver laughed, he couldn't help it. "How forceful, love? Did you make them cower? Or was it simply the ice-cream that's keeping them away?"

"You've never met my housemates - would that I could make them cower! Mike's got to have about six inches on me, and about twice my weight ... it's totally the ice-cream. It's sitting in the freezer reminding them what they have to lose."

Oliver chucked again. "So Mike is part mountain, then? And how long are they leaving you alone for?"

Oliver was just as happy they'd gotten the physical stuff done as soon as they did--he was still plagued by images of Mike or Ian picking up the phone just in time to hear him or Tom coming. God, poor Tom. He'd have died.

"Phone line's mine for the night - it's not like Ian didn't have his daily two hours with his girl already." There was something a little off in Tom's tone as he said that and the sudden change of topic that followed only emphasised it. "And yeah; Mike's not small - part munchies part weight lifting - and Ian would have us believe he's some kind of martial arts freak. Not that I've seen an evidence of that, but still - I just don't do intimidation well I guess.

"I like you being not intimidating," Oliver said. "What's up with Ian and Sarah? Or is it Ian and you?"

"Like you liking me."

"And?" Oliver held out through the pause, waiting for an answer to his question.

Tom sighed a little. "Nothing much - jealousy, probably, and... Sorry?"

Oliver got it, suddenly and unexpectedly, then felt like a fool for not seeing it before.  "Don't be sorry. It's hard. And it's unfair. It's okay to be jealous of relationships where they get to talk every day. But I bet that they take it for granted--that if they had a week together they'd not spend it grateful for every minute like we did."

And that wasn't any help at all, he knew. But what else could he say? It *was* hard and unfair. That's what distance was about, and recognising it didn't make it easier.

"It's not that - OK, so it is that, but not just that. Oliver? This sounds so stupid. What they do has nothing to do with what we do - I know that, just - don't want to imagine a time when phoning you is a chore, or when you - us - is like an obstacle to having fun, and ...  I'm being stupid. And jealous. And there's no point, because I'm the lucky one, really."

"Love, we're always fun. Really, do you think they have the fun we do? Their conversations--okay, maybe not all of them, but most--are about their day and other minutia. Ours are...about the important stresses, and treasures, and...well, about being close. Not to mention, really hot." Oliver grinned at the last. "Doubt they make each other scream and come all over the place."

God, he hoped not, anyway. The last thing he wanted to think about was Ian getting off with his girl. Yikes.

"OK - mental pictures I didn't need, lover! I guess I'm just being a bit more aware than usual of how other people's relationships work, and ... it really doesn't matter. Only thing that matters is how we work, and that I like - lots."

Oliver smiled softly. "Yeah. We work. Love you."

"You too." There was a long soft out breath, and Oliver imagined Tom snuggling down, wishing that it was against his own shoulder instead of some pillow. "So much."

"Getting sleepy, lover?" Oliver wondered vaguely what time it was but couldn't be bothered checking his watch. He was too comfortable.

"'Bit. You read my voice well, love."

"I just know you. And right now you're drowsy and warm and wrapped around a pillow. You're smiling a little, 'cause you always are after we make love, and you're sad because we're apart. But you're happy we're talking."  Oliver cuddled his own pillow as he spoke, his eyes closed as he pictured Tom.

"That me or you, love? Because snap." The warmth was back in Tom's voice where it belonged.

"Uh, I meant you, but it seems to be me," Oliver admitted with a grin.

"You got plans for the rest of your evening, love?"

"Not really. Eat. Clean up the kitchen a bit, check my e-mail. Other than that, I think I'll just watch TV--haven't gotten to the bookstore yet."

There was a soft chuckle "Wish I could lend you something. Or curl up on the couch and watch a film with you."

"Oh, that would be fun. We could watch something really stupid and make up our own words. Or I could force you to watch hours of Hitchock. You've really got to see 'Rope', or 'Dial M for Murder'."

"So long as you know that I'd be asleep in about ten minutes with my head on your shoulder."

"Yeah, well, we could nap together. You sleepy, now, lover?"

Tom made a small snugly sound that might have been a yes, and Oliver couldn't help but smile. "Sorry, love. Been a long day."

"That's okay. It's late. Send me e-mail in the morning?"

"Of course. Oliver? I don't know if I should be encouraging you to get off the phone and save your bill, or pointing out that I'll more than happily stay awake to talk to you for the rest of the night."

Oliver laughed. "Not worried about the bill. Just worried you'll fall asleep and not hang up. Wind up with the phone cord imprinted on your face, or something."

"Did I make a habit of being spectacularly dumb when unconscious or something?" Tom teased.

"Nope. You're spectacularly cute when you're asleep. You look...amazing." Oliver pictured Tom asleep beside him in their bed in London. "You're beautiful. I spent ages memorising your cheekbones and your eyelashes."

"Hey, I did warn you that I'm so not a morning person. And it's you who's beautiful, love."

"Stop that. You're gorgeous," Oliver said softly. "Believe it, love."

Tom made another small noise that only familiarity allowed Oliver to interpret, and when he spoke again his voice was gentle. "I'd rather look at you."

Oliver sighed. Not exactly exasperated, but not entirely happy.

"Tom, love. Why is it so hard for you to believe? You're stunning. Attractive. Beautiful. I see it. Others see it." He grinned suddenly. "Just accept it as you and deal, baby. You're a hottie."

"Am not." But despite the words his voice was happy. "And it's just you - but I think I like that, so that works."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "It's not just me. But, so long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"OK So, it's after midnight. Oliver, lover, you make me happy. Incredibly, wonderfully, unexpectedly happy."

"And sappy. Don't forget that." Oliver grinned and let himself get a little sappy as well. "I love you, Tom. You're my world, my heart. You make me soar, love.

Tom's response was mostly in the quality of the silence. "Love you," he whispered eventually. "So much."

"I know," Oliver whispered back. "That's what makes me soar."

"Love ... you ... " Tom stopped and started over. "Actually - that's it. Love you."

Oliver smiled. He felt like he hadn't stopped smiling since Tom had answered the phone, except for the rather memorable amount of moaning and panting in the middle. "Love you. I should let you get to sleep."

"Do you think we've got any of the day's sap supply left?"

"I suspect we've used up today's and tomorrow's as well," Oliver said lightly. "Why? You got some more?"

"'S OK - it can wait.  I'm thinking it'll be just as true next week. You're right - you should go. And email me something for the morning?"

"Of course, love. Right after I eat something." Oliver paused and asked curiously, "You're storing up sap? Am I gonna fall behind?"

"Never, love. I just don't want to overdose you." The amusement in Tom's voice was a warm, right thing.

"Don't think that's possible." Oliver took a deep breath. "Good night, Tom. I love you."

"Love you too, Oliver." Tom's voice was low and sure and really not designed to make him want to hang up the phone. There was a small sigh, a pause, and then "G'night."

Oliver bit his lip and closed his eyes. Fuck, he hated this part. "Good night, love."

Without waiting--he knew that if he waited he'd wind up doing something stupid, like crying--he pressed the disconnect button.

It was long minutes before he got off the bed and started to put things back to rights. The sun had moved low enough that it wasn't streaming in his window any longer, evening settling over the city. Soon enough he'd be able to see the moon and remind himself that it was the same one Tom slept under.

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


To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Thursday May 29th 9:45pm

Love,

Thank you. Again, for calling my voice mail, for being you, for loving me.
And for letting go so completely to let me love you the way we did on the
phone--it was intense and sexy as fuck, and the thought of the way you
sounded when you came has been making half hard again all evening--if I let
myself think about it too much I'd not get anything done, wouldn't have even
made it out of the shower, let along cleaned my room and the kitchen.

But I did. *sigh* Got my room put to rights, had some supper, picked up
the stacks of books and papers strewn around the living room...and every
time I let my mind wander it went to you, of course.

Miss you so much. Can't wait to be in London again, away from everyone but
you. Want to hold you and whisper in your ear, want to be warm in bed with
you as the sun comes up.

But for now I'll just try to keep myself on an even keel. There's three
messages on my machine I don't want to listen to tonight--pretty sure
they're either all Jess, wondering what the hell is going on, or Jess and
Kerry.

Stupid shithead.

Sorry.

Anyway, I'm going to ignore them for tonight and just flop out on the couch
with a book--nothing new, just an old one I've read before. Two
reasons--haven't made it to the bookstore yet and I also doubt I'd be able
to concentrate. I'll probably wind up with a stupid grin on my face and my
cock in my hand, thinking about you, hearing you....

Want to see you do that, you know. Want to see you ride that dildo, want to
watch you fuck yourself. But I want you to come with me in you.

Love you, Tom. So much.

Now, I've managed to get hard again, and I don't think it's going to go away
on it's own. *Watch Oliver toss the book idea out the window and just head
for the couch for some quality time thinking about Tom.*

Have a good day, lover. Will look for mail when I get to work.

Love you.

Your Oliver



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Friday May 30th 9:04 am

Morning beautiful,

>Thank you. Again, for calling my voice mail, for being you, for loving me.

No thank yous - how could I not?

> And for letting go so completely to let me love you the way we did on the
> phone--it was intense and sexy as fuck, and the thought of the way you
> sounded when you came has been making half hard again all evening--

It would be really weird of me to blush at this point, right? It's weird -
or not weird - I get so tied up in the moment with you on the phone, and
somehow it's different in the cold light of day and text ... not
different-bad, just - different. Makes me blush and grin different.

> if I let myself think about it too much I'd not get anything done, wouldn't have
> even made it out of the shower, let along cleaned my room and the kitchen.

Mmmmmm. Of course if you'd been with me I wouldn't have let you go wandering
off to be productive. Woke up missing you, love.

> But I did. *Sigh* Got my room put to rights, had some supper, picked up
> the stacks of books and papers strewn around the living room...and every
> time I let my mind wander it went to you, of course.

Still with the blushing.

> Miss you so much. Can't wait to be in London again, away from everyone but
> you. Want to hold you and whisper in your ear, want to be warm in bed with
> you as the sun comes up.

Yes. Just - yes. So much.

> But for now I'll just try to keep myself on an even keel. There's three
> messages on my machine I don't want to listen to tonight--pretty sure
> they're either all Jess, wondering what the hell is going on, or Jess and
> Kerry.
>
> Stupid shithead.
>
> Sorry.

It's OK, Oliver, you're more than allowed to use me as a listening post for
stuff that's driving you nuts. More than.

> Anyway, I'm going to ignore them for tonight and just flop out on the couch
> with a book--nothing new, just an old one I've read before. Two
> reasons--haven't made it to the bookstore yet and I also doubt I'd be able
> to concentrate. I'll probably wind up with a stupid grin on my face and my
> cock in my hand, thinking about you, hearing you....

Nope - still blushing.

> Want to see you do that, you know. Want to see you ride that dildo, want to
> watch you fuck yourself. But I want you to come with me in you.

Right. We need to find a way of typing 'inarticulate because of sudden lack
of blood to the brain'.

> Love you, Tom. So much.

Love you too, Oliver.

> Now, I've managed to get hard again, and I don't think it's going to go away
> on it's own. *Watch Oliver toss the book idea out the window and just head
> for the couch for some quality time thinking about Tom.*

Still can't quite get my head around that - I'm really really glad of it,
but I still don't get it. Hence the blushes, I guess.

> Have a good day, lover. Will look for mail when I get to work.

Et voila.

Just a quickie before I hit the books, but I did a bunch of prep for dinner
tonight last night, so I should be able to come and check my mail again
before I have to head back home. I think it's Austin Power's tonight, so
it's entirely up to my cooking to try and inject a little class into the
event.

God - American politics, and film night and cooking, and how come last night
simultaneously feels like an age ago, and so close that I can still hear the
ghost of your voice in my ear?

Love you. Miss you.

Yours.

T

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



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Friday May 30th 9:45 am

Hey lover,

> > And for letting go so completely to let me love you the way we
> > did on the phone--it was intense and sexy as fuck, and the thought
> > of the way you sounded when you came has been making half hard
> > again all evening--
>
> It would be really weird of me to blush at this point, right? It's weird -
> or not weird - I get so tied up in the moment with you on the phone, and
> somehow it's different in the cold light of day and text ... not
> different-bad, just - different. Makes me blush and grin different.

Yeah, it feels different this morning...like a dreamy sort of memory, but
intense and sort of...odd. :-) But good. God, it was good.

> > If I let myself think about it too much I'd not get anything done, wouldn't have
> > even made it out of the shower, let along cleaned my room and the kitchen.
>
> Mmmmmm. Of course if you'd been with me I wouldn't have let you
> go wandering off to be productive. Woke up missing you, love.

Oh, me too. Really. Mornings are...well, I get to work on time. Rather
spend an extra hour or so in bed just feeling your heat.

> > But for now I'll just try to keep myself on an even keel. There's three
> > messages on my machine I don't want to listen to tonight--pretty sure
> > they're either all Jess, wondering what the hell is going on,
> > or Jess and Kerry.
> >
> > Stupid shithead.
> >
> > Sorry.
>
> It's OK, Oliver, you're more than allowed to use me as a
> listening post for stuff that's driving you nuts. More than.

You may regret that. Listened to them this morning. First one was Jess,
pretty much just 'what the hell happened? Is it true that you attacked
Peter?' and then her calling me back to say that she'd talked to Kerry and
found out that Peter had tried to 'get me back'. So, being the smart girl
that she is, she'd figured out he did something obnoxious. Not sure if she
really gets the part that Kerry played.

Third one was Tim, Kerry's partner. That was a short 'Call me, please.'
which I'm putting off until lunch time.

Some one called the voice mail when I was talking to you last night, but
they had their number blocked and didn't leave a message, so for all I know
it was a bank trying to get me to accept a credit card or something.

Love you. Will let you know what happens with Tim.

> > Want to see you do that, you know. Want to see you ride that
> > dildo, want to watch you fuck yourself. But I want you to come
> > with me in you.
>
> Right. We need to find a way of typing 'inarticulate because of
> sudden lack of blood to the brain'.

Uh huh. I get that, too. :-)

> > Now, I've managed to get hard again, and I don't think it's going to go away
> > on it's own. *Watch Oliver toss the book idea out the window and just
> > head for the couch for some quality time thinking about Tom.*
>
> Still can't quite get my head around that - I'm really really glad of it,
> but I still don't get it. Hence the blushes, I guess.

Want me to explain it to you again, lover? Want me to tell you how your
voice alone sends sparks down my spine, settles in my balls? How the
thought of your smile makes me grin in response? Thinking about your abs,
your thighs, your arms makes me want to rub up against you until there's
nothing left of me but a bundle of nerve endings all screaming for release?
How the thought of your cock, the feel of it in my hand, the taste of it,
the heat of it when you fuck me makes me so hard I can't stand up? How the
fact that you love me makes me weak in the knees?

> Just a quickie before I hit the books, but I did a bunch of prep for dinner
> tonight last night, so I should be able to come and check my mail again
> before I have to head back home. I think it's Austin Power's tonight, so
> it's entirely up to my cooking to try and inject a little class into the event.

Man, it sounds like fun. :-) Wish I could be there--I'd love to taste your
food, watch movies with you, just hang out and relax with friends... Have a
good time, love. Tell me all about it.

> God - American politics, and film night and cooking, and how come
> last night simultaneously feels like an age ago, and so close that I can
> still hear the ghost of your voice in my ear?

I know. It's...well. It's us. And if it makes you feel any better, I can
still hear you. I hear you saying you love me. I hear you loving me with
every single word.

And I dream about you.

Love you,

your Oliver



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Friday May 30th 4.10pm

Good afternoon,

Becka says hi, and something about you not getting to steal me away from ice
cream production duty .. and yes, I do feel really silly passing messages,
now you ask. She wants to meet you when you've over next - meet us off the
coach from climbing or something. You still want to go, right?

God, my time sense is just falling apart - the weeks are just steamrollering
past, and so much has happened since last Friday... Feels like forever since
you were here, and forever till you're due again, and somehow my finals are
any minute now. I think I need these Friday nights as punctuation :
everything else is so continuous - studying mostly. My timetable's starting
to collapse in on itself as classes finish or move to revision schedules,
and my brain is gently toasted with it all.

> Yeah, it feels different this morning...like a dreamy sort of memory, but
> intense and sort of...odd. :-) But good. God, it was good.

Not as good as having you real in my arms, lover. But way up there.

> > Mmmmmm. Of course if you'd been with me I wouldn't have let you
> > go wandering off to be productive. Woke up missing you, love.
>
> Oh, me too. Really. Mornings are...well, I get to work on time. Rather
> spend an extra hour or so in bed just feeling your heat.

Hey - you were only ten minutes late! And once at that - I resemble that
remark!

> > It's OK, Oliver, you're more than allowed to use me as a
> > listening post for stuff that's driving you nuts. More than.
>
> You may regret that. Listened to them this morning. First one was Jess,
> pretty much just 'what the hell happened? Is it true that you attacked
> Peter?' and then her calling me back to say that she'd talked to Kerry and
> found out that Peter had tried to 'get me back'. So, being the smart girl
> that she is, she'd figured out he did something obnoxious. Not sure if she
> really gets the part that Kerry played.

Call her, love - she's been a good friend to you so far, yeah?

> Third one was Tim, Kerry's partner. That was a short 'Call me, please.'
> which I'm putting off until lunch time.

Got my fingers crossed for you that that went OK.  Sucks that his partner's
put him in this situation with a friend ...

> Some one called the voice mail when I was talking to you last night, but
> they had their number blocked and didn't leave a message, so for all I know
> it was a bank trying to get me to accept a credit card or something.

Paranoia biting? I'm sorry we didn't talk about this more last night - except
maybe distraction was more the thing, and ... want you to be OK, love.

> Love you. Will let you know what happens with Tim.

Thank you. Please?

> Want me to explain it to you again, lover? Want me to tell you how your
> voice alone sends sparks down my spine, settles in my balls? How the
> thought of your smile makes me grin in response? Thinking about your abs,
> your thighs, your arms makes me want to rub up against you until there's
> nothing left of me but a bundle of nerve endings all screaming for release?
> How the thought of your cock, the feel of it in my hand, the taste of it,
> the heat of it when you fuck me makes me so hard I can't stand up? How
> the fact that you love me makes me weak in the knees?

Tom is currently unable to reply. Cause : inarticulate due to lack of blood
to the brain.

Love you, Oliver. Worry that you're too good to be true, but love you.

> > Just a quickie before I hit the books, but I did a bunch of prep for dinner
> > tonight last night, so I should be able to come and check my mail again
> > before I have to head back home. I think it's Austin Power's tonight, so
> > it's entirely up to my cooking to try and inject a little class into the event.
>
> Man, it sounds like fun. :-) Wish I could be there--I'd love to taste your
> food, watch movies with you, just hang out and relax with friends... Have a
> good time, love. Tell me all about it.

Will do, once I get my lazy arse home to get cooking - got to go via town
again, but this time just for fresh veggies. The ice-cream's already done,
and the chicken's marinating ...wish you could be there too.

Hey, um - what are you doing say, the weekend of the twentieth to twenty-second? -
maybe the Saturday night before climbing? Want to come over and hang out? We
might just about be able to sit still and not gross the boys out by then,
right? Or at least save it up for quick trips to the kitchen to help me out?
It's tiny and ratchety and such a student house, but I still can't remember
why it was I wouldn't want you there.

Love you. Want you. All the time.

T.

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



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Friday May 30th 6:35 PM

Sorry I missed you, if indeed I have. At this point I expect all the food
is gone and you're all well into the movies.

Work got busy busy and lunch was spent on the phone. Jess and Kim are
really upset with...well everything. Mad at Kerry (close to furious),
beyond angry with Peter--I suspect there is little hope of restoring that
friendship, and mad at me for not just walking away. Well, maybe not mad,
they understand, but they wish I'd handled it differently.

So do I.

Tim...well, he's upset. He's stunned that Peter would ever assume I'd go
back to him, that the man would actually believe I'd just say oh, okay,
let's try again. He's as shocked as I am at Peter's attitude--*he'd* take
*me* back, not accepting that he's the one who destroyed our relationship.

And he's angry with Kerry for setting it up. Angry Kerry was complicit.
Tim's talking about going away for a bit to think. He didn't say so to me,
but I think he's considering moving out.

Which upsets me. They've been together for years, and I hate to think that
Kerry's attitude about me and my relationships (you, Peter, all of it) could
be responsible for breaking them up.

I'm drained.

Miss you. Want you to hold me and tell me it's all going to be all right.

> Becka says hi, and something about you not getting to steal me
> away from ice cream production duty .. and yes, I do feel really silly
> passing messages, now you ask. She wants to meet you when you've
> over next - meet us off the coach from climbing or something. You still
> want to go, right?

Yes, I want to go, and yes, I want to meet Becka. She sounds wonderful.
:-) Say hi back for me, love.

> God, my time sense is just falling apart - the weeks are just steamrollering
> past, and so much has happened since last Friday... Feels like forever since
> you were here, and forever till you're due again, and somehow my
> finals are any minute now.

I know. It's like a time shift that keeps going back and forth in inverse
directions from what we want.

> I think I need these Friday nights as punctuation :
> everything else is so continuous - studying mostly. My
> timetable's starting to collapse in on itself as classes finish
> or move to revision schedules, and my brain is gently toasted with it all.

*Pets and hugs and loves*

> > Oh, me too. Really. Mornings are...well, I get to work on time. Rather
> > spend an extra hour or so in bed just feeling your heat.
>
> Hey - you were only ten minutes late! And once at that - I resemble that
> remark!

And what a nice ten minutes it was, too. Purrrrrr.

> > Some one called the voice mail when I was talking to you last night, but
> > they had their number blocked and didn't leave a message, so for all I
> > know it was a bank trying to get me to accept a credit card or something.
>
> Paranoia biting? I'm sorry we didn't talk about this more last night -
> except maybe distraction was more the thing, and ... want you to be OK,
> love.

I just needed you, Tom. Didn't need to talk about it, not really, not as
much as I need to feel connected to you. We connected, I think. :-)

> > Want me to explain it to you again, lover? Want me to tell you how your
> > voice alone sends sparks down my spine, settles in my balls? How the
> > thought of your smile makes me grin in response? Thinking
> > about your abs, your thighs, your arms makes me want to rub up against
> > you until there's nothing left of me but a bundle of nerve endings all
> > screaming for release? How the thought of your cock, the feel of it in my hand, the
> > taste of it, the heat of it when you fuck me makes me so hard I can't
> > stand up? How the fact that you love me makes me weak in the knees?
>
> Tom is currently unable to reply. Cause : inarticulate due to
> lack of blood to the brain.

Uh, yeah. Me too.

> Love you, Oliver. Worry that you're too good to be true, but love you.

Not too good. Hell, I gave my ex two black eyes. Not a stellar thing to do, really.

> > Man, it sounds like fun. :-) Wish I could be there--I'd love to taste
> > your food, watch movies with you, just hang out and relax with
> > friends... Have a good time, love. Tell me all about it.
>
> Hey, um - what are you doing say, the weekend of the twentieth to twenty-second? -
> maybe the Saturday night before climbing? Want to come over and
> hang out? We might just about be able to sit still and not gross the boys
> out by then, right? Or at least save it up for quick trips to the kitchen to
> help me out? It's tiny and ratchety and such a student house, but I still
> can't remember why it was I wouldn't want you there.

I would love that. A lot.

> Love you. Want you. All the time.

Me too. Love you, want you, miss you.

Tomorrow I've got that climb--damn, maybe that's Sunday. Shit. I'll check
my Palm Pilot, hate to miss it 'cause I fucked up the days.

Anyway, climbing one day this weekend, riding the other and the food
shopping needs doing--seriously lacking in anything healthy here, though I
seem to have a years supply of popcorn.

I'm going to order some supper tonight and walk down to the shop on the
corner for a movie, I think. Just kick back and relax and lay low.

I miss you. Wish I were there.

Love you.

Your Oliver



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Saturday May 31st 2.12 PM

> Sorry I missed you, if indeed I have. At this point I expect all the food
> is gone and you're all well into the movies.

Pretty much - I did hereby roast chicken pieces and that did vanish in
seconds ;)

> Work got busy busy and lunch was spent on the phone. Jess and Kim are
> really upset with...well everything. Mad at Kerry (close to furious),
> beyond angry with Peter--I suspect there is little hope of restoring that
> friendship, and mad at me for not just walking away. Well, maybe not mad,
> they understand, but they wish I'd handled it differently.
>
> So do I.

Wish I could hold you right now. Make it better somehow. You know, if
anyone else had told me you'd hit him, I don't think I'd have believed it.

> And he's angry with Kerry for setting it up. Angry Kerry was complicit.
> Tim's talking about going away for a bit to think. He didn't say so to me,
> but I think he's considering moving out.
>
> Which upsets me. They've been together for years, and I hate to think that
> Kerry's attitude about me and my relationships (you, Peter, all of it) could
> be responsible for breaking them up.

Not your choice, Oliver, so it's not your responsibility - which I| know
doesn't make it suck any less, but - you didn't make Peter, Kerry -any of
them - do what they did, think how they think.

> I'm drained.

Really wish I could be holding you.

> Miss you. Want you to hold me and tell me it's all going to be all right.

Me to. But it is going to be all right. Things will work out as they will,
and time will pass, and it will be OK

> > Becka says hi, and something about you not getting to steal me
> > away from ice cream production duty .. and yes, I do feel really silly
> > passing messages, now you ask. She wants to meet you when you've
> > over next - meet us off the coach from climbing or something. You still
> > want to go, right?
>
> Yes, I want to go, and yes, I want to meet Becka. She sounds wonderful.
> :-) Say hi back for me, love.

Will do. Won't see her till Monday now - I'm studying solo here, but then,
she didn't leave ours till after 2, so ... Chilean red - I'm expecting
hangover reports from those as drank it.

> I know. It's like a time shift that keeps going back and forth in inverse
> directions from what we want.

Hey, universe! Not Fair!

And this reminds me I haven't phoned home in a couple of days. I really
should. And speak to Seth, if I can begin to think of what to say.

> > I think I need these Friday nights as punctuation :
> > everything else is so continuous - studying mostly. My
> > timetable's starting to collapse in on itself as classes finish
> > or move to revision schedules, and my brain is gently
> > toasted with it all.
>
> *Pets and hugs and loves*

This is me basking in the love.

> > > Oh, me too. Really. Mornings are...well, I get to work on time.
> > > Rather spend an extra hour or so in bed just feeling your heat.
> >
> > Hey - you were only ten minutes late! And once at that - I resemble
> > that remark!
>
> And what a nice ten minutes it was, too. Purrrrrr.

Love you.

> I just needed you, Tom. Didn't need to talk about it, not really, not as
> much as I need to feel connected to you. We connected, I think. :-)

I should say so. So long as you felt - feel - loved and sure of my feelings
for you. I think we did good. Admit, I'm blushing again.

> > Love you, Oliver. Worry that you're too good to be true, but love you.
>
> Not too good. Hell, I gave my ex two black eyes. Not a stellar thing to
> do, really.

You're really not pleased with yourself for that reaction, are you? Oliver?
What about that's getting to you so much? I mean aside from the whole
situation.

> > Want to come over and hang out? We might just about be able to sit
> > still and not gross the boys out by then, right? Or at least save it up for
> > quick trips to the kitchen to help me out? It's tiny and ratchety and such
> > a student house, but I still can't remember why it was I wouldn't want you there.
>
> I would love that. A lot.

Consider it planned.

> Tomorrow I've got that climb--damn, maybe that's Sunday. Shit. I'll
> check my Palm Pilot, hate to miss it 'cause I fucked up the days.

Do check - chances of actual rock are not to be missed - and your probably
thinking Sunday because that's when my climb is. Heading to the coast this
time - crumbling cliffs and probably a good amount of bouldering.

> Anyway, climbing one day this weekend, riding the other and the food
> shopping needs doing--seriously lacking in anything healthy here, though I
> seem to have a years supply of popcorn.

Popcorn counts - although it sounds like you should treat yourself to
cooking a proper meal, something slow cooking and careful that you can
luxuriate in without reference to the outside world?

> I'm going to order some supper tonight and walk down to the shop on the
> corner for a movie, I think. Just kick back and relax and lay low.

Sounds like a plan - what'd you watch? Austin Powers was - well - Ian
thought it was hysterical, and it has its moments. Don't think I'll bother
going to a cinema to see the third one though.

> I miss you. Wish I were there.

Yes and yes.

Love you, Oliver.

Your Tom.

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



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Saturday May 31st 12:34pm

Hey love,

Climb is tomorrow, so today I did a nice long ride in the morning--going to
be too hot for long long rides in the middle of the day soon--and now I'm
home sorting laundry. If I manage to get that done in the next hour or so
I'm going to go do the shopping for food and *finally* hit the bookstore.

Getting really jazzed for the climb tomorrow. It's been ages since I've
climbed rock.

> > Work got busy busy and lunch was spent on the phone. Jess and Kim are
> > really upset with...well everything. Mad at Kerry (close to furious),
> > beyond angry with Peter--I suspect there is little hope of restoring that
> > friendship, and mad at me for not just walking away. Well, maybe not
> > mad, they understand, but they wish I'd handled it differently.
> >
> > So do I.
>
> Wish I could hold you right now. Make it better somehow. You know, if
> anyone else had told me you'd hit him, I don't think I'd have believed it.

I hate to think that anyone would believe it. It's not my proudest moment.

> > Which upsets me. They've been together for years, and I hate to think
> > that Kerry's attitude about me and my relationships (you, Peter, all of
> > it) could be responsible for breaking them up.
>
> Not your choice, Oliver, so it's not your responsibility - which I know
> doesn't make it suck any less, but - you didn't make Peter, Kerry -any of
> them - do what they did, think how they think.

I know. I do. But I still feel like I'm caught in a maelstrom, the centre
of this storm that I just can't stop.

> And this reminds me I haven't phoned home in a couple of days. I really
> should. And speak to Seth, if I can begin to think of what to say.

Do that, and please let me know how it goes. Wish I could be there. Good
luck, lover. Try to keep calm, and follow his lead--but don't let him pull
any shit on you. Or put any on you, for that matter. You're dad came
around, yeah? He might not be thrilled about me, but he's not talking like
you're the devil. Work on Seth gently.

God, I sound preachy. Sorry.

> > I just needed you, Tom. Didn't need to talk about it, not
> > really, not as much as I need to feel connected to you. We
> > connected, I think. :-)
>
> I should say so. So long as you felt - feel - loved and sure of
> my feelings for you. I think we did good. Damit, I'm blushing again.

You're so cute when you blush. ;-)

> > > Love you, Oliver. Worry that you're too good to be true, but love you.
> >
> > Not too good. Hell, I gave my ex two black eyes. Not a
> > stellar thing to do, really.
>
> You're really not pleased with yourself for that reaction, are you? Oliver?

No, I'm really not.

> What about that's getting to you so much? I mean aside from the whole
> situation.

It was juvenile and uncontrolled. I let him get under my skin, let him wind
me up, let it *hurt* so bad that he still doesn't see what he did to me...

He's read my journal. We have (had?) the same friends. And he still
doesn't get what he did to me. He doesn't see how badly he hurt me, how
much I loved him and what it did when he cheated.

And it hurts that I loved him so much and he's such a...jerk. How could I
have misjudged him so much for so long? We were together for *years*, Tom.
He was my partner, my lover, my best friend--and I didn't know him.

It took him looking at me and saying he'd take me back for me to see how
stupid I am, how much time I wasted on him...and I snapped. I didn't think,
I just reacted, and I lost my temper. In the middle of the street. In
front of the world and everyone, and I just...hit him. I lashed out instead
of simply turning my back.

So, yeah. I'm not proud. And I'm scared.

> Popcorn counts - although it sounds like you should treat yourself to
> cooking a proper meal, something slow cooking and careful that you can
> luxuriate in without reference to the outside world?

Good lord. You want me to try something more complex than a casserole? You
really do have faith. :P

> > I'm going to order some supper tonight and walk down to the shop on the
> > corner for a movie, I think. Just kick back and relax and lay low.
>
> Sounds like a plan - what'd you watch? Austin Powers was - well - Ian
> thought it was hysterical, and it has its moments. Don't think I'll bother
> going to a cinema to see the third one though.

Saw an oldie--I actually did a little time warp thing and got one of my
dad's favourite movies--The Dirty Dozen. I once saw the Japanese movie it's
based on, The Seven Samurai, which was amazing even with sub titles.

Austin Powers is fun, but yeah--easily saved for renting and not the
theatre. I like to see Sci Fi at the theatre though--any movie with big
effects, you know?

Miss you.

Going to fold laundry and then head out for the shopping. Talk to you
later, love.

Your Oliver



To : Oliver Kurland
From : Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Sunday 1st June 8.47 am

Morning beautiful,

This would be me typing blearily with my second cup of vending machine
coffee helping me find consciousness ... off to the Sussex coast in just
over half an hour ... and when you get this you'll either be on your way
yourself, or just back - how did it go?

> I'm going to go do the shopping for food and *finally* hit the bookstore.

So - buy anything good? I'm getting so damned bored of re-reading American
novels - can't wait to be able to read something just for fun again,

> Getting really jazzed for the climb tomorrow. It's been ages since I've
> climbed rock.

This is me grinning. Glad you get the chance, lover, but I'm really looking
forward to the next chance you get. We get.

> > > Which upsets me. They've been together for years, and I hate to think
> > > that Kerry's attitude about me and my relationships (you, Peter, all of
> > > it) could be responsible for breaking them up.
> >
> > Not your choice, Oliver, so it's not your responsibility - which I know
> > doesn't make it suck any less, but - you didn't make Peter, Kerry -any of
> > them - do what they did, think how they think.
>
> I know. I do. But I still feel like I'm caught in a maelstrom, the centre
> of this storm that I just can't stop.

Wish there was anything I could say, except you're probably right, and all
you can do is weather the storm and let it die out naturally.

> > And this reminds me I haven't phoned home in a couple of days. I really
> > should. And speak to Seth, if I can begin to think of what to say.
>
> Do that, and please let me know how it goes. Wish I could be there. Good
> luck, lover. Try to keep calm, and follow his lead--but don't let him pull
> any shit on you. Or put any on you, for that matter. You're dad came
> around, yeah? He might not be thrilled about me, but he's not talking like
> you're the devil. Work on Seth gently.

Seth was out - told mum to let him know I rang and was asking after him. Had
a good chat with mum at least - still no news from the hospital, which we
can all agree to read as good news. If it was bad they'd rush it through to
get treatment started, right? She's insisting that she's fine really -
talking about starting a book club of all things. Asking about uni and jobs
and all that stuff. I'd managed to forget about me not having a job lined
up, and I'm trying to stick to the game plan - revise now, stress later
about immanent poverty and unemployability.

> God, I sound preachy. Sorry.

You sound like you care - that's not a bad thing.

> > I should say so. So long as you felt - feel - loved and sure of
> > my feelings for you. I think we did good. Damit, I'm blushing again.
>
> You're so cute when you blush. ;-)

I am not cute.

> > What about that's getting to you so much? I mean aside from the whole
> > situation.
>
> It was juvenile and uncontrolled. I let him get under my skin, let him
> wind me up, let it *hurt* so bad that he still doesn't see what he did to me...
>
> He's read my journal. We have (had?) the same friends. And he still
> doesn't get what he did to me. He doesn't see how badly he hurt me, how
> much I loved him and what it did when he cheated.
>
> And it hurts that I loved him so much and he's such a...jerk. How could I
> have misjudged him so much for so long? We were together for *years*, Tom.
> He was my partner, my lover, my best friend--and I didn't know him.
>
> It took him looking at me and saying he'd take me back for me to see how
> stupid I am, how much time I wasted on him...and I snapped. I didn't think,
> I just reacted, and I lost my temper. In the middle of the street. In
> front of the world and everyone, and I just...hit him. I lashed out instead
> of simply turning my back.
>
> So, yeah. I'm not proud. And I'm scared.

Hate having to have this conversation this way. Want to hold you and let you
see me listening in real time and ... wish I could take away the hurt,
love. I'm not beginning to say that it was a good thing to do, but - it was
human, understandable, and a really extreme position to find yourself in.
You're not stupid, Oliver. Not by a long stretch. Fuck but I want to be
there with you right now.

> > Popcorn counts - although it sounds like you should treat yourself to
> > cooking a proper meal, something slow cooking and careful that you can
> > luxuriate in without reference to the outside world?
>
> Good lord. You want me to try something more complex than a casserole?
> You really do have faith. :P

I'm going to find you a recipe, lover, and talk you through it. Want to see
you treat yourself.

> Saw an oldie--I actually did a little time warp thing and got one of my
> dad's favourite movies--The Dirty Dozen. I once saw the Japanese movie
> it's based on, The Seven Samurai, which was amazing even with sub titles.

I've never seen either - wonder if the guys would go for that another Friday?

> Austin Powers is fun, but yeah--easily saved for renting and not the
> theatre. I like to see Sci Fi at the theatre though--any movie with big
> effects, you know?

Big SFX movies deserve the big screen - like the Lord of the Rings films, or
the Matrix - it's a little weird to imagine them on the tv, really.

Miss you, love you. Gotta go.

Climb safe, have fun, and I'll try and keep out from under Toad.

Your T

Oliver? I love you. No forgetting.

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



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Sunday 9:33 am

Good morning, lover,

> This would be me typing blearily with my second cup of vending machine
> coffee helping me find consciousness ... off to the Sussex coast in just
> over half an hour ... and when you get this you'll either be on your way
> yourself, or just back - how did it go?

Just on my way--I have to be at the gym by ten thirty. Beautiful day here,
slightly overcast so the shadows won't be a real issue, or the sunlight.
Not much chance of rain, so I think it'll be good. Now's when I find out if
my upper body strength is all I think it is. :-)

> > I'm going to go do the shopping for food and *finally* hit the
> > bookstore.
>
> So - buy anything good? I'm getting so damned bored of
> re-reading American novels - can't wait to be able to read
> something just for fun again,

I did, actually. Got 'At Swim, Two Boys', by Jamie O'Neil. It's about two
gay boys in Ireland--though I only just started it. Nice thick book to keep
my evenings occupied. Pick it up after your exams, if you're looking for
something good.

> > I know. I do. But I still feel like I'm caught in a maelstrom, the
> > centre of this storm that I just can't stop.
>
> Wish there was anything I could say, except you're probably
> right, and all you can do is weather the storm and let it die out
> naturally.

I hope it does. Die out, I mean, without sucking in me in further.

> Seth was out - told mum to let him know I rang and was asking
> after him. Had a good chat with mum at least - still no news from
> the hospital, which we can all agree to read as good news. If it
> was bad they'd rush it through to get treatment started, right?
> She's insisting that she's fine really - talking about starting a book
> club of all things. Asking about uni and jobs and all that stuff. I'd
> managed to forget about me not having a job lined up, and I'm
> trying to stick to the game plan - revise now, stress later
> about imminent poverty and unemployability.

Yay on your mom, and eek on the jobs--to be honest, it had sort of slipped
my mind too. It'll work out, love, I know it will. Just concentrate on
your exams for now.

> > You're so cute when you blush. ;-)
>
> I am not cute.

Yes, you are. You're also beautiful and sexy.

> > And it hurts that I loved him so much and he's such a...jerk. How could I
> > have misjudged him so much for so long? We were together for *years*,
> > Tom. He was my partner, my lover, my best friend--and I didn't know him.
> >
> > It took him looking at me and saying he'd take me back for me to see how
> > stupid I am, how much time I wasted on him...and I snapped. I didn't
> > think, I just reacted, and I lost my temper. In the middle of the street. In
> > front of the world and everyone, and I just...hit him. I lashed out
> > instead of simply turning my back.
> >
> > So, yeah. I'm not proud. And I'm scared.
>
> hate having to have this conversation this way. Want to hold you
> and let you see me listening in real time and ... wish I could take away
> the hurt, love. I'm not beginning to say that it was a good thing to do, but - it was
> human, understandable, and a really extreme position to find yourself in.
> You're not stupid, Oliver. Not by a long stretch. Fuck but I want to be
> there with you right now.

Wish you were. Want to be held and petted and hear your voice in my ear.

> > Good lord. You want me to try something more complex than a casserole?
> > You really do have faith. :P
>
> I'm going to find you a recipe, lover, and talk you through it.
> Want to see you treat yourself.

Bought a chicken and a roast and shit load of vegetables. Now what? ;-)

> Miss you, love you. Gotta go.
>
> Climb safe, have fun, and I'll try and keep out from under Toad.

You do that! I'm out of here, too, hear from you tonight?

> Oliver? I love you. No forgetting.

Can't forget it, Tom. You're part of me.

Love you.

Always.

Oliver



To : Oliver Kurland
From : Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Sunday 1st June 9.57

Go me - I escaped the Uni bar!

Damn but I hope you're day's been as good as this - well as good but without
the transport issues. I have so missed climbing outside. It's a totally
different thing, and I think today's mood is up there on top of the world -
so good to just forget everything except the cliff face for about two metres
in each direction. Love the challenge of that - not like a wall where there's
at least one 'right' way up. Even the ascent I cocked up and had to abandon
was great, and the first years did real good, so that was really satisfying
from a teaching point of view - kept their gear straight, followed the
safety stuff, helped each other out - it was good. The mini bus breaking
down just off the M25 on the way home sucked, but the Uni has AA cover so it
was just a case of sitting around combing over the day's climbing while we
waited for the knight in yellow reflective gear to come and do his stuff.
Got the bus running in about half an hour, even, so all's well.

How'd yours go?

> Just on my way--I have to be at the gym by ten thirty. Beautiful day here,
> slightly overcast so the shadows won't be a real issue, or the sunlight.
> Not much chance of rain, so I think it'll be good. Now's when I find out if
> my upper body strength is all I think it is. :-)

I'm going to feel this tomorrow, I think. You're going to be fine Mr
gym-bunny. Want to her all about it.

> > So - buy anything good? I'm getting so damned bored of
> > re-reading American novels - can't wait to be able to read
> > something just for fun again,
>
> I did, actually. Got 'At Swim, Two Boys', by Jamie O'Neil. It's about two
> gay boys in Ireland--though I only just started it. Nice thick book to keep
> my evenings occupied. Pick it up after your exams, if you're looking for
> something good.

You know how tempted I am to try and track down a copy now? Well, not
ten o'clock on a Sunday evening now, but - now rather than after exams. I'm
getting so damned bored of re-reading the same ten books over and over.

> > Seth was out - told mum to let him know I rang and was asking
> > after him. Had a good chat with mum at least - still no news from
> > the hospital, which we can all agree to read as good news. If it
> > was bad they'd rush it through to get treatment started, right?
> > She's insisting that she's fine really - talking about starting a book
> > club of all things. Asking about uni and jobs and all that stuff. I'd
> > managed to forget about me not having a job lined up, and I'm
> > trying to stick to the game plan - revise now, stress later
> > about immanent poverty and unemployability.
>
> Yay on your mom, and eek on the jobs--to be honest, it had sort of slipped
> my mind too. It'll work out, love, I know it will. Just concentrate on
> your exams for now.

I know - I'm working on it. The not stressing part. Still - I'm homeless
in three months and it seems really weird not to be actively doing something
about it, when I let myself think about that.

> Yes, you are. You're also beautiful and sexy.

Yes sir. This is me grinning if you can't tell.

> Wish you were. Want to be held and petted and hear your voice in my ear.

Love you, Oliver. So much.

> > > Good lord. You want me to try something more complex than a casserole?
> > > You really do have faith. :P
> >
> > I'm going to find you a recipe, lover, and talk you through it.
> > Want to see you treat yourself.
>
> Bought a chicken and a roast and shit load of vegetables. Now what? ;-)

A whole chicken? So I get to talk you through butchering it? Can you
imagine a long suffering sigh and me grinning at the same time? Cool. [what
kind of roast? Beef? Lamb?]

Off the top of my head : weigh your chicken, check up it's bum that
there's no little plastic bag of giblets up there, and put half a lemon in
it instead - or a handful of fresh herbs and a bit of butter if there's no
lemons in the flat - rub it all over with some butter or olive oil, and whack
it in the oven about Gas Mark 6 for - time for a little maths - I think
it's 20 mins for every 500g of chicken, plus and extra thirty - but you know
how to check if it's done, right? Stick a fork into the leg joint and make
sure the juice runs clear. Did you get onions or shallots or garlic? Any
and all of those - left in their skins, and the onions chipped up into
quarters, you can toss into the roasting pan with some more butter or oil,
about an hour from the end of the chicken cooking, and that's one lot of
veggies done. Boiled potatoes take less time than you think, but getting the
water to boil always takes more. And I'm probably scaring you off by not
having actual recipes with numbers and amounts, right?

> > Climb safe, have fun, and I'll try and keep out from under Toad.
>
> You do that! I'm out of here, too, hear from you tonight?

Et voila. And look - no falls. Keen to hear how your day's been love. I
guess that's my Monday morning treat. Going to go home now and soak in a
nice hot bath, find something for dinner that hasn't been fried [bacon
butties for breakfast on the road and egg and chips for lunch - lovely but
something not-fried would make a pleasant change], and then head to bed - no
doubt thinking about you the whole time.

Love you. Miss you.

T

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



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Sunday June 1st 8:30 pm

Love,

Sounds like you had a great day. :-) Pretty cool that we managed rock
climbs on the same day--and honestly? Just before I began the first assent
I did some math and figured you were probably just finishing up. Made me
grin to know we were doing the same thing at the same time. Only time that
seems to happen is when we're on the phone.

We had a good crew, and I was partnered with a guy named Chris who's been
climbing a couple of years longer than me, mostly outside. Good for me, but
I hope I didn't hold him up too much. The rock was great--perfect weather,
fun people. I did the climb three times, but cut the last one short 'cause
the sun was going down and we (Chris and I) were being kinda pokey and going
off on our own. Didn't want to get caught up in really bad light and no one
else around.

Only slipped twice, got a nice scrape up my leg, and my arms and thighs are
gonna kill me tomorrow, but it was fun.

Can't wait to climb with you.

> > > So - buy anything good? I'm getting so damned bored of
> > > re-reading American novels - can't wait to be able to read
> > > something just for fun again,
> >
> > I did, actually. Got 'At Swim, Two Boys', by Jamie O'Neil.
> > It's about two gay boys in Ireland--though I only just started it.
> > Nice thick book to keep my evenings occupied. Pick it up after
> > your exams, if you're looking for something good.
>
> You know how tempted I am to try and track down a copy now? Well,
> not ten o'clock on a Sunday evening now, but - now rather than after
> exams. I'm getting so damned bored of re-reading the same ten books
> over and over.

Do it, love. Just have something around for when you need a break. And
then we can be really sappy and talk about it and stuff. ;-)

> > Bought a chicken and a roast and shit load of vegetables. Now
> > what? ;-)
>
> A whole chicken? So I get to talk you through butchering it? Can you
> imagine a long suffering sigh and me grinning at the same time?
> Cool. [what kind of roast? Beef? Lamb?]

Beef. :-) Okay, I printed off the cooking instructions, will give that a
go tomorrow night. And I'm only mildly freaked. Really. I put fresh
batteries in the smoke detectors, and called Jess--see if she and Kim want
to come over and witness the big event.

You'll not laugh when I tell you how horribly wrong it all went, right?

Love you, Tom. Miss you and want you, and love you.

Talk to you in the morning, love.

Your Oliver. Always.



To: Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Monday June 2nd 10.34am.

Morning Oliver-love.

This morning needs newspapers and good coffee and breakfast in bed, you
know. Feels like that kind of morning. Possibly because I slept like the
dead last night - took the long way home, round and back down the riverside,
seeing as I only had a light bag, and then - poof - out like a lamp. And not
too stiff this morning, although my shoulders a little twingy still. How're
you doing lover? Apart from wishing that our mornings had each other in them
as well as the coffee and OJ.

> Sounds like you had a great day. :-) Pretty cool that we managed rock
> climbs on the same day--and honestly? Just before I began the first assent
> I did some math and figured you were probably just finishing up. Made me
> grin to know we were doing the same thing at the same time. Only time that
> seems to happen is when we're on the phone.

This is me smiling, because yeah - that is pretty damn cool.

> We had a good crew, and I was partnered with a guy named Chris who's been
> climbing a couple of years longer than me, mostly outside. Good for me, but
> I hope I didn't hold him up too much. The rock was great--perfect weather,
> fun people. I did the climb three times, but cut the last one short 'cause
> the sun was going down and we (Chris and I) were being kinda pokey and
> going off on our own. Didn't want to get caught up in really bad light and no
> one else around.

Yeah - getting lost out in the wilderness would be a bad end to the day -
although I think the greater Boston region is pretty light on the
life-threatening wildlife, right? [yeah, yeah, I know the risks really, but
still - eaten by a bear has so much more class than 'broke ankle in pot hole'
although I'm currently really liking 'home safe and happy'.] Really glad you
had a good outing though - good people makes the world of difference.

> Only slipped twice, got a nice scrape up my leg, and my arms and thighs
> are gonna kill me tomorrow, but it was fun.

That's the point there, Oliver ;p

> Can't wait to climb with you.

You wanna know that the first time I read that as 'cant wait to climb you'?
Single track mind strikes again.

> > > I did, actually. Got 'At Swim, Two Boys', by Jamie O'Neil.
> > > It's about two gay boys in Ireland--though I only just started it.
> > > Nice thick book to keep my evenings occupied. Pick it up after
> > > your exams, if you're looking for something good.
> >
> > You know how tempted I am to try and track down a copy now? Well,
> > not ten o'clock on a Sunday evening now, but - now rather than after
> > exams. I'm getting so damned bored of re-reading the same ten books
> > over and over.
>
> Do it, love. Just have something around for when you need a break. And
> then we can be really sappy and talk about it and stuff. ;-)

Sold, to the gentleman in the blue shirt ... we've got another revision
session in the pub - only this was Liz's choice so it' All Bar One
[posh-bland chain bar - not - pub] in town - I'll swing by Waterstones and
see if they have a copy.

> > > Bought a chicken and a roast and shit load of vegetables. Now
> > > what? ;-)
> >
> > A whole chicken? So I get to talk you through butchering it? Can you
> > imagine a long suffering sigh and me grinning at the same time?
> > Cool. [what kind of roast? Beef? Lamb?]
>
> Beef. :-)

Right. For the time being? Whack it in the freezer - even with company, the
chicken will do you two nights. And I'll think about recipes - I shall eat beans
on toast tonight while reading recipe books.

> Okay, I printed off the cooking instructions, will give that a
> go tomorrow night. And I'm only mildly freaked. Really. I put fresh
> batteries in the smoke detectors, and called Jess--see if she and Kim want
> to come over and witness the big event.

I'm proud of you love.

> You'll not laugh when I tell you how horribly wrong it all went, right?

You want I can lie to you about it?

You know that bit in eighties film montages when the one partner burns the
dinner and the other one comes to the rescue and it's all sweet and romantic
and happily ever after? Something like that. Only neither of us is trying
on a wedding dress - deal?

> Love you, Tom. Miss you and want you, and love you.

Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes - you too, love, you too.

> Your Oliver. Always.

Love hearing that. Love you.

Can hardly remember what it was like not to make the computer labs my first
stop on campus, to tell you all about my day, hear from you, tell you I love
you. Don't really want to either. I like this. Lots. Even though I miss you.

Love you

T

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



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Monday June 2nd 9:35 am

Morning Tom

Afternoon really, I guess. :-)

> This morning needs newspapers and good coffee and breakfast in bed, you
> know. Feels like that kind of morning. Possibly because I slept like the
> dead last night - took the long way home, round and back down the
> riverside, seeing as I only had a light bag, and then - poof - out like a
> lamp. And not too stiff this morning, although my shoulders a little twingy
> still. How're you doing lover? Apart from wishing that our mornings had
> each other in them as well as the coffee and OJ.

Little stiff across the shoulders, and for some reason my left triceps is
just killing me. Not sure what I did. But the rest of me is fine, and I'm
sure that a little movement will loosen things up again--I'm actually
thinking that it might be an idea to go the gym at lunch. I tend not to
like mid day workouts, but I think I could do with something light today,
just to keep tomorrow from being agony.

Also thinking about riding to work from now on. The traffic is nasty at
that time of day though, and too many idiots think bikes are targets.
Definitely going for a ride tomorrow, though.

Tonight I'm apparently cooking. For people.

Is it too early to panic?

> > We had a good crew, and I was partnered with a guy named Chris
> > who's been climbing a couple of years longer than me, mostly outside.
> > Good for me, but I hope I didn't hold him up too much. The rock was
> > great--perfect weather, fun people. I did the climb three times, but cut
> > the last one short 'cause the sun was going down and we (Chris and I)
> > were being kinda pokey and going off on our own. Didn't want to get
> > caught up in really bad light and no one else around.
>
> Yeah - getting lost out in the wilderness would be a bad end to the day -
> although I think the greater Boston region is pretty light on the
> life-threatening wildlife, right? [yeah, yeah, I know the risks
> really, but still - eaten by a bear has so much more class than 'broke ankle
> in pot hole' although I'm currently really liking 'home safe and happy'.]

LOL! Not a whole lot of chance of getting lost, but yes. Best not to be
actively stupid. :-)

Oh, and? I love you.

> > Can't wait to climb with you.
>
> You wanna know that the first time I read that as 'cant wait to
> climb you'? Single track mind strikes again.

That too. Gonna push you down flat on your back and ride your cock until we
both scream.

> > > > I did, actually. Got 'At Swim, Two Boys', by Jamie O'Neil.
> > >
> > > You know how tempted I am to try and track down a copy now?
> >
> > Do it, love. Just have something around for when you need a break. And
> > then we can be really sappy and talk about it and stuff. ;-)
>
> Sold, to the gentleman in the blue shirt ... we've got another revision
> session in the pub - only this was Liz's choice so it' All Bar One
> [posh-bland chain bar - not - pub] in town - I'll swing by Waterstones and
> see if they have a copy.

Excellent! Yay! Uh, I really should try to get further than the first
chapter then. :P Let me know when you've got it, lover.

> > > Cool. [what kind of roast? Beef? Lamb?]
> >
> > Beef. :-)
>
> Right. For the time being? Whack it in the freezer - even with company, the
> chicken will do you two nights. And I'll think about recipies - I
> shall eat beans on toast tonight while reading recipie books.

Oh dear. Now I have visions of you eating beans and me sitting with the
girls at either a lovely dinner or a lump of coal. Wanna come for dinner?

> > You'll not laugh when I tell you how horribly wrong it all went, right?
>
> You want I can lie to you about it?

Hmmm. We'll see how funny the disaster turns out. ;-)

> You know that bit in eighties film montages when the one partner burns the
> dinner and the other one comes to the rescue and it's all sweet
> and romantic and happily ever after? Something like that. Only neither of
> us is trying on a wedding dress - deal?

Oh man, I so don't want to see you in a dress. Really. Well, maybe a kilt.
But mostly just leather. And I seem to have drifted from the point.

/me goes to happy place where Tom wears leather and doesn't mind if I get
all grabby in semi-public places.

> > Your Oliver. Always.
>
> Love hearing that. Love you.

Love you. Always.

> Can hardly remember what it was like not to make the computer
> labs my first stop on campus, to tell you all about my day, hear from you,
> tell you I love you. Don't really want to either. I like this. Lots. Even though
> I miss you.

I miss you. I love your e-mails. I love knowing there's going to be one
when I wake up, knowing I'll send one before bed. Love having all this
written down.

Love you.

Wish me luck for the great chicken event!

Your Oliver.



To : Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Monday June 2nd 5.47pm

> Afternoon really, I guess. :-)

About fifteen minutes to evening, even. I'm heading into town really but -
yeah, ok, I ran into the lab to see if there was mail because I'm obsessed
and I love you and sometimes I scare myself with the whole sap factor. Not
scared you off yet though. (right?)

> Little stiff across the shoulders, and for some reason my left triceps is
> just killing me. Not sure what I did. But the rest of me is fine, and I'm
> sure that a little movement will loosen things up again--I'm actually
> thinking that it might be an idea to go the gym at lunch. I tend not to
> like mid day workouts, but I think I could do with something light today,
> just to keep tomorrow from being agony.

Wish I could give you a massage, love. I will, next visit. Unless I'm the
one in agony begging for your hands. Um. I seem to have distracted myself.

> Also thinking about riding to work from now on. The traffic is nasty at
> that time of day though, and too many idiots think bikes are targets.
> Definitely going for a ride tomorrow, though.

Squished under a truck Oliver is a bad thing. Although riding to work on
general principles would be good. Is there a route that goes through parks
and stuff some of the way? Could you stick to backstreets? Is there
somewhere to lock your bike up at work? And to change / shower, once the
weather gets hot? You know you make me smile every time you mention riding,
right? Because you only got the bike 'cos of me, and now you enjoy it in it's
own right, and that makes me happy.

> Tonight I'm apparently cooking. For people.
>
> Is it too early to panic?

Wish I could be there to calm you down and offer moral support. It's going
to be fine. Just make your guest bring desert and some wine, and enjoy the
company, 'k?

Oh, and? I love you.

Love you too, Oliver. Love you too.

> That too. Gonna push you down flat on your back and ride your cock until
> we both scream.

Oh look - distraction. Mmm.

> Oh dear. Now I have visions of you eating beans and me sitting with the
> girls at either a lovely dinner or a lump of coal. Wanna come for dinner?

Yes. I wasn't actually shooting for the sympathy vote though. I spent too
much cash on Friday's dinner, so the rest of this week it's Tesco Value all
the way.

> Oh man, I so don't want to see you in a dress. Really. Well, maybe a kilt.
> But mostly just leather. And I seem to have drifted from the point.
> /me goes to happy place where Tom wears leather and doesn't mind if I get
> all grabby in semi-public places.

There was a point? Much with the distraction factor, lover.

> Love you.
>
> Wish me luck for the great chicken event!

Much luck, love, and much love.

I'd better scram if I'm going to get to the bookshop. Mail tomorrow.

Love you.

T

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



To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent Monday June 2nd 11:34pm

Morning, love.

Still night here. And God, how I wish it were morning and this whole thing
were behind me.

The chicken was fine. Dinner itself was fine--the food, for once, obeyed
the laws of thermal dynamics and cooked. We (Jess, Kim, and I) sat down
with a full table and a bottle of wine, and it was good.

Then the phone rang. I let the machine take it. 'cause I wasn't expecting
anyone to call, and it might have been work. Was my dad, so I excused
myself to take the call.

Dad's coming. Here. For a week. Tomorrow night. Let us all pause to
panic.

Actually, it shouldn't be that bad--Dad pretty much keeps to himself and
doesn't hassle me about anything. Plus, I'll be able to talk to him about
you, and all that good stuff. So, cautiously optimistic about that. Only
tension is that he won't tell me why he was suddenly struck by the need to
see me. And his wife isn't coming--which isn't so odd, I guess. Damn, I
better figure out her name soon...I know it's on a letter, somewhere.

So, sat down again. Ate, drank a couple glasses of wine, we all chatted
about nothing. Which means we did not discuss Peter, Kerry, Tim, my
punching Peter, Peter being a twat, Kerry being and idiot, or Tim walking
out.

Phone again, during desert. Thought it might be Dad, so I picked up.

Peter.

Hang up.

Phone rings.

Unplug it.

Have more wine, avoid the subject.

Then at 9:32 PM EST, the doorbell rings.

Kim was in the bathroom, Jess was in the kitchen. I look out the spy hole
and who's there? Yeah, you got it in one.

So I call Jess, tell her to get rid of him. She nods and hugs me, I head to
the bedroom to wait it out. I can hear them, all three, talking. Jess
starts getting loud, insisting he leaves. Peter gets louder, sounds fucking
drunk.

Next thing I know, Kim yells something, there's a sound like furniture
moving, and Peter's in the bedroom with me. Pissed off, drunk, and ready to
'say he's sorry and come home, please, Oliver'.

Jess's on the phone to the cops. I'm standing up, backing him out of the
room, not saying anything. Not one word, 'cause if I do I'll just...I don't
know.

Kim's trying to talk him out, she's got her cell phone out and is calling
either Tim or Kerry, I don't know which.

And then Peter grabs me by the shoulders and kisses me, full on. Desperate
and drunk sloppy, telling me he's sorry he cheated, sorry he let me go. And
under it all, he's almost crying.

Kim shouts something, I push him away, to the floor, and walk to the
kitchen. Jess is still on the phone, I grab Kim's. "Who is this?" I say.

"Ker."

"Get your fucking ass over here and get Peter. Fucker just blew past the
girls and kissed me. You don't get here before the police I'm pressing
charges." Then I hung up.

Kim's crying. Jess is cursing a blue streak at him. And he's just sitting
on the floor staring at me. Finally, he gets up and heads to the door.
"You're mine," he says, then he's gone.

The police came, Kerry came, they all left. I'm thinking about a
restraining order.

And I'm flat out beat and I miss you so much. I'm...fuck. I'm going to bed,
and I'm going to cry, and I'm going to try to get myself together before my
father gets here.

I love you. I wish I was there. 'Cause I hate being here.

Yours.
Oliver.



To : Oliver Kurland
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent Tuesday June 3rd 10:04 am

Love?

Christ - be ok. Please be ok.

God damn but I want to hold you - Jesus.

Why didn't you ring last night? You can, love, any time. And especially
when your ex goes psycho stalker on you and - just be ok. Please. Because