Life's Pageant

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Terry pushed his hair out of his face, leaned forward onto his table, plunged the straw up his nose and snorted the longest line he'd ever done. It crawled up into his brain, scratching at his nostrils. Then it started to run a bitter taste down his throat. He doused it with gin and fell onto his side.

Soon enough their first feature film would be upon them. He'd always wanted to do a medieval film and so had Michael and they'd had a grand time writing it. Although the other four had wanted a split medieval-modern theme, he and Michael insisted that it should be singularly Middle Ages - which got a lot of grumbling from John. Then there was an even greater decision; who would direct it?

In a moment of madness he found himself volunteering and quickly suggested that the other Terry should share the direction.

"Oh for... how the hell did you become director?"

Terry tried not to listen to these outbursts but they were frequent and John was intent on making him miserable.

A young filmmaker like himself would've had a job making a film in ideal conditions, but in a freezing castle tower in the Scottish countryside battered by the most powerful winds Terry had ever seen he felt that even a seasoned filmmaker would be tearing his hair out.

Michael could see that Terry was at his breaking point and he shot John a defiant stare.

"Would you leave Terry alone? It's not his fault the wind's gotten up!" The anger in his voice cowed John a bit and won him an appreciative smile from Terry.

From the day Terry's mother had died Michael had sensed a renewed bond between them. It was of tremendous affection, deeper and perhaps more intimate than before. They made it a point to ignore John's resentment of them and spent every spare moment with each other. They laughed more than they'd done in years. They wrote more material than they'd ever done. It was the happiest Michael had ever been. He didn't know quite how or when the coke had started in. He'd first seen Terry do it a month after they left Bavaria; at first he had been a little worried, a little wary, but he saw really no point in objecting. And he had no desire to ruin their friendship, to offend Terry or drive him away.

Terry seemed happy at last and that gave Michael the most wonderful feeling in the world.

When Terry first showed Michael his Chaucer book, still a work in progress, Michael realised what had been distracting Terry so much and, for some reason unknown to him, felt that he could have grabbed Terry and kissed him. There wasn't a girl!

But, you know, it was only friendly feelings, concern for Terry's marriage. It couldn't be... his mind was just as muddled as ever.

Then there were times he wasn't quite so sure they were purely platonic feelings. He noticed that they would touch each other, sometimes for no other reason but to feel the other one there, a hand on an arm, an arm round a waist. Or sit a little bit closer to one another, sometimes with legs across laps. Or lie down in each other's arms. The strangest thing was, he wasn't telling himself to do these things and he wasn't telling himself to stop either.

Terry would occasionally make passes at him, and he would brush them off, but each time he did he wanted to stop himself and he wished he could fight the urge to run away. He wished, more than anything else, that Terry would stop touching him and just... kiss him.

"Mike, remind me why I'm directing this fucking thing?"

"Because you're mental."

Terry closed his eyes and laughed. "That's why!" They were both sitting on Michael's bed in their shared hotel room; the budget demanded that everyone share a room. Neither Terry nor Michael minded sharing a room, though a few of the others had decided to leave in favour of a setting more befitting a movie star.

Michael was sitting about a foot away from Terry, leaning forward while Terry leaned back and propped himself up with his hands. He looked over his shoulder at Terry and smiled. "You shouldn't let John get to you. He can be a bit rude but there's never really much weight behind his words," he said confidently. Terry opened his eyes. "You're doing a great job, Tel. Really. Directing's not easy."

"Thanks," said Terry with a smile.

Terry's eyes drifted down onto the floor and he kicked at it. His hair was tousled and falling over his right eye again. It made him look almost schoolboyish, with his black buttoned shirt and trousers. Kicking at the floor almost nervously. Suddenly Terry leaned forward to be level with Michael.

For a moment it seemed that he wasn't going to say anything, and then quietly, "Has John ever made a pass at you?"

This question caught Michael off guard. "Er... no. He hasn't."

"Has he kissed you?" This next one made Michael flush.

"No."

"But you do know he fancies you?"

Terry fixed him with a steady gaze. Michael swallowed.

"No."

Terry smirked. "That I simply won't believe."

Unrelenting winds rattled the silence of the tiny room. Both pairs of eyes landed on Michael's bare foot. It had meandered over to Terry's and was brushing against it. Slowly and carefully.

The foot distance between them no longer existed, Terry's warmth, Terry's side right up against Michael's. Their hands... touching... behind their backs. Their feet... Michael kept his eyes on their feet.

He knew if he looked back up at Terry, he would see something in Terry's eyes that would make him want to run away again. He looked up anyway. He couldn't stop himself shaking. He couldn't pull himself away. He could feel himself smiling as Terry smiled at him. His hand clasped Terry's on the bed. Terry's other hand slowly reached up and very very slowly touched Michael's face.

Michael's eyes fell like boulders to Terry's mouth. The skin under Terry's hand was burning, he knew it. He felt it.

He leaned in a little closer and darted his eyes back up to Terry's. The same face that had been haunting him for over ten years. The same smouldering black eyes, parted lips, short breaths. His eyes flew across Terry's features. He'd never felt so hot and dry and terrified in his life.

Terry's mouth... short breaths...

His nose grazed Terry's but Terry wasn't moving. Terry was shaking. Terry's breath tasted like cigarettes. Heat was rolling off his skin and it was making Michael a little dizzy. He tilted his head ever so slightly and...

Kissed him.

Terry's lips felt as dry as his, but they were warm, tender. Michael's eyes closed. The most amazing, arousing, warmth soared through his body.

The kiss was chaste at first, slowly exploring the surface of the other man's lips, and that was enough to make Michael shiver, but he soon felt something else. Terry's tongue emerged from his parted lips and licked at his own. Michael's tongue plunged recklessly into Terry's mouth to meet it... and he tasted Terry for the first time. His tongue was like smoke and water rolled together, something like cinnamon and fiery, curling up against Michael's. Michael was unable to suppress a soft moan. Terry's hand slid deeper into Michael's hair as their kiss grew hungry and passionate.

When they pulled apart Michael could hardly breathe and his eyes wouldn't stay open. He stared nevertheless into Terry's eyes; they'd gone totally black and heavy-lidded.

Terry licked his lips and croaked, "Lie down."

Although he didn't want to move away from Terry just then, Michael did as Terry told him and curled his legs up onto the bed. He started to lean back but Terry suddenly stopped him.

"No," murmured Terry, sliding off the bed. "Under the covers." Michael watched him and after a moment pulled the bedsheets back and slid under them fully clothed.

Terry stood beside the bed, gazing down at Michael. Then he began to undress; his fingers undid each black shirt button, left a trail of pale skin down his front and pulled the shirt off. Their eyes were locked; Michael had seen the tented front of Terry's trousers. His breaths sped a little, as he knew Terry must've noticed the tented sheet as well. Terry worked his trousers off and stood there naked before Michael.

Michael had seen his friend naked quite a few times but never quite like this. Never aroused. Terry's cock was slightly longer than his and curved a little to the left. He was breathtaking.

A wolfish gleam sprang into Terry's eyes as he stepped closer to the bed, curled his fingers under the sheets and lifted them. He crawled slowly under them and over Michael's burning body, until their faces were aligned, and finally let his hips rest against Michael's.

They closed their eyes, bodies revelling in the heat. Michael felt his trousers suddenly being opened, shoved down his legs, and his underwear followed them down. He didn't know what to do with his hands and tentatively put them on the small of Terry's back, with a terrible shudder... he let out a breathless laugh. They nuzzled and kissed again, this time much more passionately. Michael pulled one hand up to tangle in Terry's hair as Terry rolled his hips again and pressed their arousals together. He made a strangled noise and Terry made a delightful little mewling noise.

They held the kiss a while and suddenly Terry's body started sinking lower and his lips trailed kisses down Michael's jaw, Michael's neck, Michael's chest... he let out a yelp when Terry sucked at his nipple... Terry's head disappeared under the sheets as he kissed down Michael's stomach, and Michael felt a new rush of lust sweep him when he realised what Terry was heading for. He looked down but could only see a figure under his sheets and he felt something very warm and wet run up the shaft of his penis. He gave an almighty roar of pleasure, his body bowed up off the bed, his eyes fluttered shut. Terry moaned softly around him and Michael moaned back. He sank into the softness of the bed and felt like he'd never be able to remove himself from it, like he'd been cemented there by the moans pouring out of him. Terry suddenly swallowed around him.

Then he swallowed again and Michael bucked uncontrollably. He cried out to the ceiling and came in Terry's mouth.

His body suddenly felt like it was floating off the bed, light. Terry swallowed the very last drop and gave him a tender kiss before sliding out from under the sheets and pulling himself upwards until Michael's face was under his again. He kissed Michael's chin. Michael kissed his lips. His fingers buried themselves in Terry's hair again as he drank his own taste from Terry's mouth.

"Mike?" whispered Terry when they'd broken the kiss. Their bare stomachs were heaving a little, Terry's waist was lying between Michael's thighs.

"Yeah?" Michael's voice was low and raspy.

Terry's eyes darted over his face. "Have you ever been with another bloke before?" he whispered and licked his lips nervously.

"No."

Michael could still feel Terry's arousal. Terry slid two fingers into his mouth, pulled them out again, and looked down into Michael's questioning eyes. The fingers travelled down between them. Down between Michael's legs. They pressed against Michael's entrance.

"Do you want this?" Terry whispered. His voice was barely recognisable.

Michael murmured something that resembled a yes. A slick index finger entered him, hesitated as Michael gave a nervous twitch, continued as Terry's lips captured his in a kiss. The finger went a little deeper, stopped, a little deeper, stopped, until it was inside him entirely. Then it curled and Michael gasped.

Terry's finger tapped something inside him. What was that? Terry's middle finger began to work its way into Michael's opening as well and sent a sudden sharp pain through his body. He felt his body tense, tighten, and with another kiss Terry let him ride it out. The second finger joined the first and nudged the little spot inside him. Michael's breath became laboured as his cock was roused back into a full erection; he felt as though he were being stroked from the inside.

The fingers scissored inside of him and pushed him open wider; he cried out.

"Shhhhh love," whispered Terry into his ear. "Trust me..."

Michael felt Terry's lips catch the edge of his ear. There was a burning pain surrounding Terry's fingers but he let himself be soothed by Terry's voice and lips. The fingers continued to stretch him.

By the time they'd been pulled back out Terry and Michael were in a fierce liplock. Terry withdrew his tongue from Michael's mouth, breathing hard. He lifted himself on one arm, brought his hand up to his mouth and spat into it. Michael's eyes widened. He watched fascinated and frightened as Terry took his erection in his hand and covered it with his own saliva.

Terry's hair was messy and falling in raven streams over his face, his eyes were darker than Michael had ever seen them, his lips were a brilliant red, his thin chest was heaving, his hands were grabbing Michael's ankles, lifting them up over his shoulders, positioning himself between Michael's buttocks. Michael was sliding his hands up to Terry's shoulders, digging into them, breathing just as hard and fast as Terry was. Terry was pushing into him.

They were panting together. The tip was inside. It slid deeper, deeper, deeper.

Their eyes were closed. Michael curbed his whimpers against the stinging pain he felt and Terry began to pull out and push in again, again and again. He let the pain go. His body sank into the rhythm. He opened his eyes. Terry looked magnificent. Totally feral. He thrust forward. His hair fell onto Michael's face. He breathed Michael's name. Michael breathed his. Michael pulled his face down and kissed him. Terry sped his thrusts. He plunged frantically into Michael's body. Michael took all of it in, the sting of Terry inside him, the slap of Terry's trim hips against his thighs, the warmth of their bare stomachs smashing together, the push of Terry's back under his palms, the whisper of Terry's long hair brushing his face, the hiss of Terry's breath hitting his lips. Terry jerked, gave one last moan, and his release flowed into Michael as he collapsed onto him. Michael came after him, groaning, spilling his release onto Terry's chest.

Both men quaked uncontrollably. After a while Terry pulled out and they let their breathing return to normal as he sank into Michael's arms. Michael pushed Terry's hair away from their faces, and grinned.

"You're sweating," he whispered.

"So are you," murmured Terry. He licked the sweat off Michael's upper lip.

Michael pulled him down for a kiss. "You're beautiful," he whispered when they pulled apart, brushing the pad of his thumb over Terry's cheekbone. Terry looked into his eyes.

"I love you."

Nothing... nothing came out of Michael's mouth. He tried but he couldn't get the words out, they wouldn't... why why why? Terry...

Michael closed his eyes.

"Terry, I -"

His whispers were cut off by Terry's mouth. He realised that Terry didn't need to hear it.

Michael...

You've made my heart sing...

The sun was finally shining in Scotland. It shone furiously down on the rain-soaked hillside, sending the cold damp slinking away into the shadows, spreading the most marvellous goodwill through the previously gloomy crew. Even John seemed less of a bastard.

Terry leaned against the castle wall in full knight costume and pondered the next line.

Late in life's pageant it may be... he liked that one... but you have made roses bloom anew for me...

The words were bursting from him like birds freed from a cage. How long had it been since he'd felt like this? Not since Oxford, he concluded. Not since Michael came down from Oxford. It seemed like such a long time ago that he'd actually wanted to write anything. But now...

The sun was shining, and it was shining for him.

"My dear director, might I ask why you're not directing?"

"My dear oblivious Michael, can you not see that I'm enjoying this lovely weather?" replied Terry with his eyes closed. He grinned but didn't open them.

Michael laughed quietly, against the wall next to him. Terry couldn't see him but he could feel Michael watching him, and he could let him, but Terry decided he wouldn't. He turned his head towards the laughing voice and opened his eyes... Michael was dressed as a knight as well with his hood missing. Terry didn't like wearing his either. He looked over Michael's scruffy hair and the rest of him gleaming in the sun...

"Lunch. Come on," he said, grabbing Michael's tunic and leading him away from the castle. With a glance over his shoulder Michael saw the rest of the crew disappear behind the stone wall - but one pair of eyes that wasn't yanked out of sight caught his. Terry Gilliam was standing under a tree several feet away from everybody else, and under his fringe Michael caught a glitter in his brown eyes. A knowing smile at his lips. He looked definitely more smug than he ought to, thought Michael, and why? He realised that Gilliam hadn't said anything to either him or Terry all morning, and the last thing he'd said to them was goodnight as he unlocked the door of his hotel room. His hotel room. The room next door to theirs. Michael suddenly felt warmer than ever under the brilliant sun.

They walked serenely into the woods, down a little cliff to a little riverbed sitting just out of sight of the castle. Terry sat down on the grassy ground and Michael sat right up against him. His hand laced into Terry's.

Terry studied him and smiled. "Careful - someone might see you..."

Michael leaned forward and boldly pressed his lips against Terry's and Terry, stunned momentarily, pressed his lips against Michael's in turn and held them for just a few more seconds. Michael pulled back, closed his eyes and smiled.

"They might," he whispered to Terry's shoulder. Terry let out a shaky laugh and kissed the top of Michael's head gently.

My sunshine...

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