The Priest in my theology class at school said that the Bible claimed that real love was being willing to sacrifice your life for someone else. I guess that means that I never really loved Francis.
I met Francis when I was fifteen. He was two years older than me and he was my mentor, my guide to my new school. My parents thought it was a good idea for me to go to a Catholic school in the north of Spain; my English father liked the idea of a three year diploma over the GCSEs and A levels of the English school system and my Spanish mother liked the idea of me being in Spain. Both of them agreed the Catholic school would prevent me from being caught on my knees sucking a guy's cock like my older brother had been caught doing a few weeks before. This last reason may have been the real reason.
Francis was taller than me by at least a foot; he smiled down at me as he opened the door to my hesitant knock.
"New kid, right?" He grinned, opening the door to reveal his toplessness, his boxers showing over the top of his jeans, his bare feet. "I'm a rubbish guide but I got in trouble last week and you are my punishment. You might as well come in." He walked away from the doorway, leaving me peering into the gloom of his room.
"They said there was only a few minutes 'til the next lesson." I murmured quietly as I went into the room. The room was dark because the curtains were drawn even though it was early in the day. There was a desk, a book case, a wardrobe and a bed; a door leading to the en-suite was on the same wall as the desk. Francis was stood in front of the wardrobe, he held two shirts in front of him.
"Yeah, we'll be late. I always am. Which shirt do you think suits me better?"
"The blue one." I shrugged, just picking one.
Francis put the white shirt back into the wardrobe and took the blue one off the hanger.
"What you do to end up here then? What did your parents catch you doing? I was caught doing drugs. I still get a supply, if you're interested. Theology isn't the way to reform people but this school hasn't worked that out yet."
"I, erm, I don't do drugs."
"So sex then?" Francis smiled, knowingly. "With girls or with other guys? If you've been with other guys this place definitely won't reform you."
I looked at my feet, knowing that Francis would be smirking at me. I saw his bare feet in my eye line, his hand reached out, cupped my chin and lifted my head so that I looked at him. He was smirking.
"Kneel down."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a nice guy, kid. I'm gonna make sure that no-one takes the fact that you have experience to be a reason for using you. Stick with me, kid. I'll keep you safe."
"The priests won't let them, will they?"
Francis grinned again.
"I've got a whole supply of illegal substances in my top drawer and my punishment is the pretty little English kid. How would they punish someone who fucked you? Kneel down."
I knelt down in front of him, expecting him to pull his cock out and tell me to suck it; expecting him to demand some sexual payment for his 'protection'. Instead, he handed me his socks, then offered me his foot as he rested a hand on my shoulder to steady himself. I eased the sock over his foot and then did the same to the other.
"Good boy. Come on, we're late to theology."
****
I woke up, I got washed and dressed. I went to Francis' room, I woke him up, I ran his shower, picked out his clothes while he was in the shower. I dressed him, I combed his hair. I knelt on the floor and waited his instructions. We were always late to lessons, we never got in trouble. For a year, we were late and we never got in trouble. Every Monday he missed morning lessons, went offsite and came back with needle marks on his arm. He always returned with a new supply of drugs. Some times he wouldn't get up, said he was ill. We never did sports, sometimes we'd go and watch but the coaches never tried to get us involved. For a year, I did what he asked. For a year, I knelt on his floor. No one ever questioned what happened in the hours we spent his room. I think everyone assumed he was fucking me. He hardly even touched me.
He left the school and went to university. He used to come and see me, every weekend. He'd come to my room and sit on my bed while I knelt on the floor, listening to his tales of university. He caught me kissing another boy once, shortly after he left. He'd walked into the room when I didn't expect him. He'd grabbed the other guy by his arm and marched him out of the room before he turned to me.
"Kneel down." He whispered, not smiling for once. "You don't mess around with anyone else. You belong to me."
"You don't come here anymore. You don't protect me anymore. You don't want me for sex anyway." I said defiantly.
"Were you going with other guys while I was here?"
"I didn't have time when you were here. I did everything for you!"
"Are you fucking him?"
"No. I haven't done anything yet."
He grabbed my hair, pulling me up so I had to stand on my tiptoes.
"You don't do anything with anyone, except me. Understand me?"
"Yes, let me go."
"Do you tell me what to do?"
I took a deep breath.
"Sorry, Francis. I won't do anything with anyone else ok?"
"Good boy. Kneel down."
He never shouted. When he was angry, he whispered, he didn't smile and he kept his voice low. Francis had this way of speaking that made everyone else do what he said, not just me, everyone. That's why he never got in trouble for being late to lessons, or for having drugs or for doing whatever he wanted. People were drawn to him but he only paid attention to a few people. Everyone was desperate for his attention but those who had it hated it. I had it, I hated it. I did belong to him, even now he had left the school, I still belonged to him.
****
He'd filled out my university application form, I'd applied to the same university as him, the same course as him. When I got accepted, he'd filled out my accommodation form. I wouldn't need it. I was living off site with him, in his flat. My parents helped move my things into the spare room in his flat, they liked Francis. They thought Francis was a nice, good Catholic young man who would keep me in check. He saw my parents off and then shut the door to the flat.
"Take your clothes off and kneel down." He grinned as he went into the kitchen to get himself a drink.
"Clothes?"
"You know I don't like repeating myself."
I started undressing, wasting as much time as I dared on folding up my clothes. I knelt on the floor, looking down, waiting for his instructions. I saw his bare feet come into my vision, and his bare legs. I closed my eyes, not daring to see how far up the nakedness went. Three years of non-sexual behaviour. Three years of kneeling and doing what I was told. I should have expected that it would reach this point. I should have expected that as soon as we were alone, in his flat, that this would become more than what it had been before.
"How long since you sucked a cock then?"
"Three years, before I met you. I haven't done anything with anyone since you."
"Well done. Now you can start practising again." Francis moved closer to me, I could feel his feet touching my legs, his cock resting near my face.
"Must we do this, Francis?" I knew the answer. I couldn't argue with Francis, once he'd made up his mind, I couldn't change it. I opened my eyes, looked up at the thick, hard cock just above eye level. I'd seen it before, when dressing Francis, but not hard, not thick and angry and red. I frowned at him. Francis just grinned down at me while pulling a condom over his cock, didn't even bother answering me. He just took hold of his cock and pointed it towards my mouth.
"Don't use your hands. Open wide, kid."
I opened my mouth allowing Francis to manoeuvre his cock into my mouth. He took hold of my hair and began rocking his cock into me. I allowed him to instruct me, to direct me, as I always did. He told me what he wanted, pulled my hair to get me to move, grabbed the back of my head to make me hold still as he shot his load into the condom.
Francis knelt down in front of me, he kissed my nose then picked me up, took me into his bedroom. He lay me on his bed and then snuggled up behind me, pulling me close into his body. He wrapped his hand around my cock, began gently stroking me, running his other hand over my chest, pausing occasionally at a nipple but keeping all his touches too light, just teasing. I moaned and arched my back to his touch. He pushed a finger into my mouth, allowing me to suck it for a while, then he moved his hand down, gently pushing the wetted finger into my ass. It stung. Francis didn't seem to register my intake of breathe. He pressed further into me, then pulled out and added another finger into my ass. He quicken his pace on my cock, his fingers remaining in my ass until after I'd come. He lifted his hand to my mouth, silently commanding me to clean my come from him. Then he pulled his fingers from my ass and pushed those into my mouth, pulling me closer, keeping the fingers in my mouth and he began to talk, directly in my ear.
"I've been using drugs for years, you know that. I've been using needles, sharing needles. I've been HIV positive for five years now. Not all the drugs I take are illegal."
