The Captain and the Prime Minister

by Catherine Curzon

  So Tom kissed farther, down Alex’s body until he reached his erection and took it in his mouth. Alex was hard and sizeable, and it had brought Tom so much pleasure last night—and would do again tonight, Tom was certain.

  “God, I love you.” Alex gasped. His hips lifted from the bed toward him, his fingers tightening in Tom’s hair.

  Tom looked up. “Alex, do you want to try something? If you’re in a raunchy mood?”

  “Only if it’s suitably prime ministerial,” was the answer.

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “Well…you work at number 10. We live at number 11. What other well-known two-digit number can you think of?”

  The thoughtful look that descended over his lover’s expression was a picture, especially the moment when Tom saw the penny finally drop. Alex’s eyes widened and he said, “Ah. That number.”

  “Yeah, that number.” Tom paused for a moment, trying to read Alex’s expression. “So…do you want to try it?”

  “I’m always one for new skills.” Alex winked. “Let’s give it a go.”

  Tom turned around on the bed, looking over his shoulder at Alex. “This feels so debauched—I love it!”

  Alex gave Tom’s bottom a playful tap. “Probably not one to discuss on breakfast telly.”

  Tom rolled onto his side and grinned at Alex over the lengths of both their bodies. As he stroked Alex’s erection, he said, “Yeah, this is definitely post-watershed entertainment.”

  “A new politics?” Alex winked then kissed Tom’s thigh and drew his finger along the length of his erection.

  Tom trembled at his touch, then brought Alex’s erection to his mouth again. He felt Alex follow his lead, his lips soft and slow as they slid down the length of Tom’s cock. Tom stroked his tongue around Alex, moving up and down on him. Trying to focus wasn’t easy while Alex did the same for him. He held Alex tight around his hips, steadying himself as he pleasured him.

  They seemed to fall quite by accident into the same rhythm, each mirroring the other’s pace. Alex slid his hand over Tom’s buttocks, stroking his fingers just between them as the pressure of his lips grew tighter. Tom moaned, glad that his lover was so instinctive in bed. He wondered how Alex would react to the same touch, and slipped his finger between Alex’s buttocks.

  Alex’s hips jolted forward and Tom felt the effort it took him to contain himself. One thing he couldn’t hold back was his groan of pleasure, and he pushed his own finger deeper in reply, his tongue laving Tom’s cock. Tom moaned again, then took his mouth from Alex. Looking between their bodies again gave him a gloriously debauched sight.

  Tom’s voice was soft with desire as he asked, “Darling—do you want to spoon now? I’m not sure I can hold on much longer, you tease.”

  For a few moments he thought Alex hadn’t heard, then he met Tom’s gaze and slowly released his erection from his lips.

  “I was in another world,” he admitted gently. Then he kissed Tom’s thigh and said, “Come here?”

  Tom moved back up the bed and put his arms around Alex, kissing his shoulders. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

  He murmured his agreement. “We should do lots more of it. Lots more of everything.”

  “When we have that long holiday…” Tom grinned. “The things we can get up to!”

  “Where would you like to go?” Alex opened the drawer and reached inside. “Anywhere you want.”

  Tom hugged himself. “Somewhere warm. Beaches for the twins to play on, and for us to have romantic moonlit strolls.”

  “Somewhere away from the world.” Alex tore open the condom wrapper, apparently as confident now as he had been bashful just a few days earlier. Maybe it was love that did it. “Just for us.”

  “I love the thought of that.” Tom stroked Alex’s stomach, enjoying the shape and feel of his body. “And once we’ve left number 11, where will we go and live?”

  “We’ll move into the constituency house while we decide. It’s not quite Downing Street— it’s a lot nicer, for starters.” Alex looked thoughtful. “I’d like to get away from the city, but I don’t want to cause too much upheaval for the twins. We’ll find somewhere perfect, just for our little family.”

  “They seem to enjoy the countryside. All we need is a donkey in the garden and they’ll be happy!” Tom had never had a conversation like this before while naked in bed with a man. But then, he’d never loved the men he’d been with until Alex.

  Alex kissed his cheek and promised, “I’m going to spoil all of you rotten.”

  “You already do—” Tom raised his eyebrow as he looked down at Alex’s body. “Especially with that lovely big cock of yours.”

  He watched as Alex slicked lube onto his erection, anticipating the moment when their bodies would be joined. As Tom lifted his gaze it met Alex’s and his lover asked, “I’m doing okay for a novice, then?”

  “Look at you, prepping like an expert.” Tom nuzzled close to him. “You’re everything I ever wanted.”

  “I told you, I’m a quick learner.” He kissed Tom’s cheek. “And maybe I’ve imagined this moment a few times too.”

  “While you were lying in bed and I was only at the other end of the corridor?” Tom turned onto his side, reaching behind him to caress Alex’s stomach again. “Or were you at your desk in number 10, and I was only on the other side of the wall?”

  “I told myself you might as well be on another planet. I couldn’t tell you and even if could, I’d hardly be your type.” Alex kissed the nape of Tom’s neck and laughed softly. “Happily, I was wrong on both counts.”

  “You were—fortunately!” Tom turned his head and smiled. “You know what to do, don’t you?”

  With a deep kiss, Alex teased his fingers between Tom’s buttocks. When he withdrew them he put his arms, those arms that Tom had fantasized about a thousand times, around his waist and pressed the tip of his erection closer.

  “One little thrust, darling.” Tom’s voice trembled with anticipation. He heard Alex’s breath catch as he made the move, their bodies tight together. Then Alex’s lips were nuzzling his neck, his fingers encircling Tom’s cock.

  Tom reached back one arm to loop around Alex’s neck. “Is this how you’d hoped it would be?”

  “Everything with you—” He began to move his hips and hand, losing the words in another kiss. “It’s all better than I could’ve dreamed.”

  Tom began to move with him, following his rhythm exactly without really trying to. “We fit together perfectly,” Tom whispered.

  He wasn’t a man who believed in fate, but this was enough to make him wonder. Maybe they were meant to be, two people thrown together as friends, enduring through the years to end up here, wrapped in each other’s arms, perfectly in tune. Alex and Tom, Tom and Alex, each suited to the other. Tom recognized now when Alex was nearing his climax—he sensed it, something in Alex’s muscles, his breathing. And as Tom’s climax approached, he knew that Alex could tell, and Tom sighed his name as bliss coursed through him.

  We were made for each other, Tom knew as they soared into bliss. And always will be.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tom had done his best to explain to the twins why Daddy wasn’t going to be tucking them in that night.

  “He’s going to try his best to make life really, really good for other boys and girls too. You just need to share him for one evening, that’s all.”

  They went into a hushed and huddled discussion with the Madastair and some assorted other privileged toys on the kitchen table, a little Cabinet all of its own, and were still engaged in delicate negotiations when Alex pottered into the kitchen, fastening his cufflinks. He joined Tom at the fridge and whispered, “What’s this?”

  “I was trying to explain why you wouldn’t be here at bedtime,” Tom replied. “I think there might be a vote on that. Sorry—all you need today is another one!”

  “I thought we might go to Chequers this weekend,” Alex told the children, who looked up as he added, “Or because it’s a
bit dull there sometimes…how about the seaside instead?”

  “The seaside, Daddy!” Madeleine clasped her hands. “Please! And it must have sand, for sandcastles.”

  “And ice cream,” Alastair exclaimed. “And donuts?”

  Alex turned to Tom. “Which do you fancy, darling? The country pile or fish and chips on the beach?”

  “Fish and chips on the beach? Chuck in candy floss”—Tom laughed as the twins cheered—“and I’m there!”

  “You’re on. Right, breakfast, then I’m off to Cabinet and the day.” He looked at the children again. “Wish your daddy luck?”

  “Good luck, Daddy!” Madeleine passed him the Madastair. “The Madastair wants to go with you.”

  Alex knelt between the chairs and puts his arms around the twins, the Madastair clutched in his palm. With a kiss to each of the children, he assured them, “Well, I don’t think I can lose then. You two, Tom and Billy at home, the Madastair in my pocket. I’ll make sure I feed him plenty of biscuits too.”

  “He does get very hungry, but he’s a useful chap to have around!” Tom said. He kissed the top of Alex’s head. “Good luck, darling.”

  “We should win.” He looked up at Tom. “But who knows how the Great British Morning Show went over? The public’s one thing— parliament could be feeling bloody-minded, though—too populist, and all that.”

  “You’ve done everything you can—I’ll be thinking of you all day.” Tom added in a whisper, “I do anyway, but you know what I mean!”

  Alex caught Tom’s hand and kissed it. “I can’t wait to be home.”

  * * * *

  Tom couldn’t relax. After he’d come home from dropping the twins at school, he’d managed to make himself a cup of tea twice, and both times he’d forgotten he’d made it and they’d gone cold. He sent Alex a text.

  Thinking of you—how’s it going? T xxx

  As he waited for the reply to land, he switched on the television and there, on College Green, a sizeable crowd had gathered and was growing all the time. Dressed in a rainbow of colors, the young and the old had come together again under their Love Is Love banner, holding an impromptu picnic and singalong. For a moment he smiled, until he heard what the reporter was saying.

  “—are asking whether this might be the proverbial red rag to the bull. In Westminster, this sort of support isn’t a common sight, and being too popular could prove costly when it comes to Members making their feelings known at Mr. Hart’s bill tonight.”

  Tom turned the television off. As the picture blinked out, his phone buzzed.

  Everyone’s being far too smiley and nice. I’m not sure what it means but I don’t like it. Xxx

  Tom replied, Have you seen the crowd outside? Even if you lose the vote, you’ve still won. T xxx

  A few seconds later, Alex replied.

  I’ve got the three of you, Billy and the Mad. I’ve won at life. Love you xxx

  Tom sent his reply. I love you, Alex. Good luck! xxx

  He tidied the flat then tidied it again, remembering as he plumped the pillows on Alex’s—on their bed, their encounter last night. Filled with a new warmth, Tom let himself think not of the vote, but of their little family, of Gill’s friendship and the warm support of the public. He couldn’t do anything to influence the way the MPs would respond to Alex’s child poverty action bill, but he could make the day fun for Alastair and Madeleine, and when they were home from preschool that was exactly what Tom did.

  The day passed in a whirl of painting and storytelling, with some pasta-making thrown in for good measure— always a winner with the mini-Harts. Despite their tender years, they seemed to sense that important matters were afoot and carried out their sous chef duties with care and calm, reverential as they helped. They’d grown up here in number 11, and no matter how hard Tom and Alex had tried to give them a normal upbringing, life as the children of one of the most important people in Britain would never be ordinary. Soon enough, though, no matter how well the vote went today, they’d be adjusting to a different life.

  Tom read a Noddy story at bedtime, but all the while he wondered how Alex was faring. It was a different world from this bedroom, an innocent haunt for children with its mobile of elephants hanging on the ceiling. By now the division bell would be silenced and in the lobbies, the fate of Alex’s legacy would be decided. Whatever deals still had to be made had missed their chance. Now it was down to each individual Member of the House and their own conscience. They could vote no and nothing would change. But if they voted yes, the supertanker would turn and the system, creaking and rickety, would begin the process of reform. Years from now, the proof of reform would be felt as those children Alex sought to help became adults and perhaps even followed Alex Hart into politics, bringing something more than cynicism and ambition with them.

  Just before ten his mobile buzzed with a message from Alex, sent in haste.

  Into chamber for results. Will be on 10pm news xxxx

  Tom sat in the lounge, his untasted glass of wine on the table beside him. He switched on the television and leaned forward in his chair with all the tension of a football fan waiting to hear the results. He was just in time, it seemed, as the screen was filled with an image of the Commons Chamber, as busy as it was at any PMQs, despite it being past ten o’clock on Tuesday night. In the bottom of the screen was a banner that said simply, LIVE, and there on the packed front bench was Alex, his head bowed in conversation with Gregory.

  “Come on!” Tom shouted at the television. “You bunch of total pillocks, vote for Alex’s bill!”

  A curious miaow came from somewhere in the room, and Billy appeared. “Are we voting for you as well?”

  The cat leaped up onto the chair and kneaded Tom’s lap. “Look—there’s Alex,” Tom said. “Can you see him?”

  The cat purred loudly as it turned itself into a furry cushion on Tom’s lap. He stroked Billy’s back and turned up the sound in time to hear the Speaker’s familiar bark of “Order!”, as though calming a yard full of unruly children. At a repeat of the instruction the hubbub died down and Tom almost held his breath as the results were read out.

  “The ayes to the right, six hundred and three.” And the roar that went up was deafening, so loud that Tom could barely hear the paltry two dozen who had voted no.

  Love Is Love had done nothing to dent Alex’s dream. It wasn’t so much a landslide as an avalanche.

  “The ayes have it!” the Speaker declared, and as he bellowed, “Unlock!”, the camera showed Alex and Gregory again, each smiling as widely as the other.

  Tom hugged Billy to him. “He did it. He only bloody did it, Billy!”

  Tom hopped from the chair and danced around the room with the cat in his arms. What a way for Alex to finish his time in Downing Street.

  So busy celebrating was Tom that he didn’t hear any of the pundits who came after, or pay much attention to the breathless wonder at the results. In fact, he was still waltzing Billy across the sitting room when he realized that the scene on the television had changed. Where the studio had been was now an exterior shot of Westminster, a place that had become as familiar to him as his own home. The last person he expected to see was Alex, but suddenly there he was, strolling out of the Palace as though he were a tourist on a daytrip.

  “This night is going from one unexpected event to another,” said the anchor. “It’s unheard of, but a jubilant Alex Hart is going to make a statement not only to this growing crowd of supporters, but to the country.”

  Tom froze. Was Alex going to thank them all for their support? Or was he going to—was he going to tell them, tonight, at the moment of his victory, that he was leaving number 10?

  “I’ve had an extraordinarily privileged few years at number 10,” Alex told the crowd as behind him police officers gathered, hawklike as they watched the mass of spectators. He was clutching something in his fist, and though Tom couldn’t see it, he knew what it was. The Madastair was making its public debut. “And tonight, everybo
dy in the United Kingdom can rest assured that Parliament has united to ensure a better future. Not just words, but actions, backed up by a pledge of funding and a pledge of caring. And it’s this, all of this.”

  Alex gestured toward the cheering crowd. “Because this started out as a simple message of tolerance and respect and love. And I know that might sound a bit simplistic to some people, but it’s a bloody good start, isn’t it?”

  With tears of joy in his eyes, Tom nodded, even though Alex couldn’t see him. “Yes, darling, it is—it is.”

  “And in these four years, there’ve been times when I was lower than I thought I could ever be, but Gill, my late wife, taught me that you don’t give up because things get too hard. And look at what we can achieve!”

  The crowd answered with a roar, though Alex silenced them with a gesture of his hand.

  “But I need to be there for my family now, for Tom and my children, whether it’s for a hug or to stick a plaster on a graze or just dance around the kitchen and collapse onto the sofa with a takeaway. And that’s why this will be my last year in Parliament. But this work we’ve started here, this outpouring of love, that will go on. And Love Is Love should be all our missions. So, I want you to have a party tonight, celebrate this victory, and I’ll go home to my family. Goodnight!”

  Tom hugged Billy and kissed her velvety head. “What a bloody gent.”

  And he was on his way home.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tom didn’t have long to wait for Alex. He’d put the champagne in the fridge, just in case, and he’d only just put the glasses out on the kitchen table when he heard the front door. Alex’s footsteps were jaunty as they danced along the hallway. He stopped in the kitchen doorway then, as though he were Steed with his bowler hat, threw his tie through the door and onto the table.

  “Well…we won!” Alex beamed. He crossed the kitchen to take Tom in his arms, as though they were about to dance. “We really, really won!”