by Anna Martin
“Anytime, love.”
She stood at the door to wave them off, and George pretended not to notice when Alex stared pointedly out of the side window of the car as he drove through the familiar streets of his home city. Manchester was as funny beast. She still bore the scars of her Industrial Revolution past, the very layout of the city revealing paths built from docks to factories to warehouses. In this corner of the North-West, house prices were cheap, and families stayed in one area for generations. George’s had, at least. His mum had dug up information that traced her own heritage back to immigrant dock workers.
There were, of course, the posh areas where the footballers lived, the gated communities where the rich could live in peace without having to interact with the proletariat. George knew of these areas but had never bothered to go there. He had no reason to.
Working Men’s Clubs littered nearly every town around the country; they were leftovers from the old Union buildings, social clubs where members paid a small monthly fee to enjoy ridiculously cheap beer, compared to the local pubs. There was a darts team, a skittle alley, and a function room that held all the usual celebrations—birthdays, engagements, christening parties, funeral wakes.
George had been a member of the club since he turned sixteen. He still paid his monthly dues, meaning he could sign himself in at any time, and Alex as his guest.
“There’s a playground and a beer garden at the back,” George said as they walked through the bar. A rugby game flickered on the TV, and a fair crowd gathered around the super-wide-screen. The room no longer smelled of the cigarette smoke he’d associated with the place as a child, not since the smoking ban came into place. The upholstery still bore the scars of the old days, though: plenty of the curved benches and booths had perfectly circular cigarette burns in the dark pink fabric.
“Is that where your family will be, then?”
“Expect so,” George said, raising his hand in greeting to a group of men he recognised from the football. “It’s a nice day. Dad will want to be outside where he can have a smoke.”
On their way out the back, they had to pass the kitchens, which smelled of chips and fried food. Then a fire door that was illegally propped open while a light, fresh May breeze floated through it.
“George!”
George knew that scream anywhere and prepared himself for the onslaught of his youngest sisters. Luna got to him first, barrelling into his legs almost hard enough to knock him over. He laughed and ruffled her hair, then grabbed hold of Megan as she ran over.
“Hey, girlies,” he said affectionately. Felicity had been at the top of the climbing frame and it took her longer to run to him, yelling his name over and over. He caught her as she launched herself at him, and spun her around, then up onto his hip.
A quick glance at Alex made George pause. He looked terrified, almost like he was about to throw up. George reached over and pressed his hand to Alex’s back.
“Come on, where’s Dad?” he asked the girls, and let the chattering mass lead him over to where someone, he guessed Maggie, had pushed two picnic benches together.
“Alright, George?” his dad bellowed, and everyone was talking at once. This was how his family worked—they had always had to fight each other for a chance to make their voice heard.
“Will you lot shut up?” George shouted above the noise, laughing as he did. He carefully deposited Felicity on Maggie’s lap. “I need you to meet someone.”
He watched Alex swallow visibly, and fought that sense of amusement again. To try and offer some kind of comfort, he wrapped his arm around Alex’s waist and pulled him closer.
“Shut up,” Maggie echoed, bellowing the words down the table until they all stopped, his mad family, and looked up the table.
“Guys, this is Alex,” George said. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Well, that certainly silenced them. Emma’s jaw fell open, her eyes wide, and her attention turned from the baby in her arms to the man standing next to George. His dad choked on his beer. The younger kids looked amused.
Long seconds passed without anyone saying anything.
Maggie cracked first.
“Alright, Alex?” he said, brushing his hands off on his dirty jeans and getting up from his perch on the picnic bench. “I’m Maggie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Alex said. There was only the slightest tremble in his voice, but his hand was steady when he squeezed Maggie’s.
“This is our dad, Paul,” Maggie continued. “That’s Charlotte and Caroline, Emma and her babby, Lily-Rose. That’s my girlfriend, Jaz, and the sprogs are Megan, Luna, and Felicity.”
“Hey, I’m not a sprog,” Megan complained.
Alex smiled at her. “Hi, everyone.”
“Right,” George said decisively. “I’m going to get a pint. You want one, Dad?”
“Wouldn’t say no.”
“Great. Give me that baby, Em. I’ll take her out of the sun for a bit.”
Emma silently passed the baby over, still looking at him like he’d grown a second head. Lily-Rose was four months old now, and fit comfortably in the crook of his arm. George grabbed Alex’s hand and dragged him back through to the bar.
“Need you to help me carry drinks,” he said.
As soon as they were back in the chip-fat hallway, Alex stopped, closed his eyes, and shook his head.
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “That was insane.”
“Welcome to my family,” George said, trying to make light of the situation as he bounced his niece in his arms. “We’re a bit loud. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” Alex said. “It’s fine. Just a bit… intense.”
George checked around, then leaned in and quickly pressed a kiss to Alex’s lips. “Thank you for today. You’ve been incredible.”
“It’s fine, I promise. I really need that pint, though.”
George laughed. “Me too. Come on.”
There were plenty of people at the bar he knew from when he was a regular here. He decided to be tactful and introduce Alex as a friend, rather than a boyfriend. Alex seemed to appreciate that.
“Can you carry three pints?” he asked, still juggling the baby on one arm and his pint in the other.
“Of course.”
“Good stuff. I think this one might go to sleep in a minute.” George bounced the little girl, whose eyes were drooping.
“You’re so good with her,” Alex said.
“Don’t get any ideas,” George told him, pulling a face. “I have a lot of sisters. Adding a niece to the mix wasn’t that much of a big deal.”
“How old’s the youngest?” Alex asked.
“Of my sisters? That’s Felicity. She’s four.”
“Your mum doesn’t want any more, then?”
“God, no,” George said and took the first, refreshing sip of his pint. “I think Fliss was a ‘surprise.’ Especially now Emma’s got one, Mum won’t have any more.”
Alex gathered up the three remaining pints in his big hands and led the way back out to the garden. The younger kids were back on the big wooden climbing frame that was set up like a pirate ship, complete with climbing net, crow’s nest, and a plank to walk.
Charlotte stopped George as he set his pint on the table and climbed onto the bench.
“Alright, love?”
“Dad says it’s okay that you have a boyfriend,” she said matter-of-factly. She was twelve and always had something to say when it came to the rules. Probably unsurprisingly, she was a whizz at school. “So it’s okay.”
“Good to know,” he said with a grin. “Go on with the others.”
She grinned at Alex, then ran off.
“You sure know how to make an announcement,” Caroline said as she took the baby from his arms and transferred her into a very pink car seat.
“Thanks,” George said. “I like to keep you all on your toes, you know that.”
“You been to see your mum?” his dad asked.
“Yep. And Nan.”
&
nbsp; “Good stuff. Your nan was only complaining the other day that you never come to visit.”
George sipped his pint again and pressed his hand to Alex’s knee under the table. He guessed this big, messy crowd of family was slightly intimidating to an outsider. As Alex bounced his knee in response, Maggie’s girlfriend, Jaz, leaned over the table and spoke to him softly.
“I’ve got rugby most weekends. Makes it hard to get back,” he said, happy for Alex and Jaz to get to know each other.
“How long have you and Alex been…?” Maggie asked, waving his hand between the two of them.
“Going out?” George supplied for him.
“If that’s what you call it,” he replied with a salacious grin that told George his brother was holding back his language on purpose, probably because the kids were still running riot.
“A few months,” he said. “Thought it was about time I scared him half to death by meeting you lot.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Emma asked from across the table. “About… you… wanting a boyfriend, I mean.”
“Sorry, Em,” he said, meaning it. “I didn’t do it to hide anything from you. It just wasn’t the right time, you know?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have minded. I don’t mind.”
“Thanks,” George said.
He’d been one of the few people who had stuck up for Emma when she said she was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby. There was pressure from a lot of people, starting and ending with their nan, for her to have an abortion. She needed backup because the useless arsewipe who’d knocked her up wasn’t going to give it to her.
George had been the one to argue with his mum late into the night that pro-choice meant having the choice to keep the baby too. In the end, their parents had insisted that Emma stay in education ’til she was at least eighteen, to go and get her qualifications. The local college had a crèche on site, so Emma had enrolled Lily-Rose there from before she was even born. It had been far from an easy ride, but things were getting better now. Lily-Rose was a good baby. The arsewipe father was paying his way and took care of the baby several evenings a week so Emma could get her homework done. Maybe unsurprisingly, the romance between them had fizzled out after a third person joined their relationship.
George thought he should have probably guessed Emma would be on his side. He wasn’t as close to her as he was with some of his other sisters; she had come along when he was entering his teenage years, and he’d mostly resented all the younger kids who took attention away from his very important angsting.
“You okay?” Alex asked, nudging his knee against George’s.
“Yeah. You?”
Alex nodded.
The younger kids were screaming at each other, playing pirates with a bunch of other children who had been brought out to run some energy off. Maggie and his dad were arguing about something to do with football, and Caroline had produced a bottle of nail varnish and was carefully adding colour to Jaz’s toes.
It felt achingly normal, right down to the man sitting next to him.
Without giving it a second thought, George turned and pressed a quick, soft kiss to Alex’s cheek. The smile on Alex’s face made it all worthwhile.
Chapter Eleven
Alex let the door to the hotel room click shut before he completely relaxed. He closed his eyes and sighed. It was okay. He got the feeling the Maguires actually liked him. Well, Nana Maguire did, if no one else.
They’d decided to get a hotel room rather than taking George’s dad’s offer of the sofa bed for the night. Alex wasn’t sure if George wanted the privacy for himself or to give Alex a break from his family. Alex appreciated it either way. After they were done at the pub, late into the evening, long after Jaz and Caroline had taken the kids home, George had driven them to a generic chain hotel on the edge of the city and booked them in for the night. It was clean, quiet, peaceful bliss after the insanity of the day.
George came up behind him and gripped his shoulders, massaging them softly while he kissed up and down the side of Alex’s neck.
“You were amazing today. Thank you so much.”
Alex turned in his arms and pressed his face to George’s neck, wrapping his arms around George’s shoulders. For a moment they stayed there, holding each other, finding their equilibrium again. To know they had this, some kind of stable foundation in their relationship, was a new discovery. Alex liked it. At the core of it all, there was something good.
The kissing helped. George’s mouth was careful at first, his lips prying Alex’s apart, and then his tongue swept into Alex’s mouth and demanded. It was so easy to give in, to fall into this easy back and forth, give and take. The chemistry between them fizzled slowly and as they rocked together, Alex could feel George’s cock growing hard. He was getting there too, his dick twitching as George rubbed up against him, the sudden tightness in his jeans uncomfortable.
“I want you to fuck me,” George said. Alex could feel George’s heart beating against his hand.
“Yeah?”
“Did you bring any condoms?”
“Yeah,” Alex grinned. “Just in case.”
“I need this,” George said, looking more vulnerable than Alex had ever seen him before. “I want you inside me.”
“I can do that,” Alex murmured. He ran his hands over George’s strong arms. “Come here.”
He walked backward to the bed, his thumbs tucked into the belt loops on George’s jeans. He laughed as he fell backward, and George straddled his waist, put his hands on Alex’s chest, then leaned in to press their mouths together again.
They kissed like that for what felt like forever, slowly stripping one another of frustrating layers. Alex wanted to kiss George everywhere, to explore the body he knew so well now. He knew how George would moan when Alex’s teeth closed over his nipple, he knew how George was ticklish and got all squirmy when Alex kissed over his ribs. He knew this man. He loved him.
This was only George’s second time, and Alex knew he still needed to take it easy, and very slow. When they were finally blissfully naked, he shuffled down and sucked George’s cock into his mouth, making George buck his hips and groan. This was familiar comfort and Alex loved it, loved the feel of a hot, thick cock on his tongue, knowing that the smallest movement of his mouth could send spasms of pleasure through George’s body.
George pushed his fingers into Alex’s hair and fuck, he loved that too.
“Please, Alex. Please.”
“Okay. Fuck.” He laughed and pushed his hand over his face. “Jesus. You’re going to be the death of me.”
George looked up at him, eyes sultry, heavy lidded. He licked his bottom lip, and Alex’s dick twitched in his hand.
“Quick or I’m gonna come,” George said.
“Okay, hang on.”
He made fast work of the condom, pushing the latex down his cock and wiping some more lube over the end. With one hand propped on the bed by George’s shoulder, he used the other to guide his cock into George’s lubed, stretched hole.
“Deep breath,” Alex murmured. George did as he was told, and Alex kept the pressure slow and even as George’s back arched off the bed. George groaned, low and long as his body was slowly invaded.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“I’ve got you,” Alex said, catching one of George’s ankles and pulling it around his waist. “Breathe, baby.”
George wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s neck, drawing him down into another kiss. For a moment or two they made tiny movements, shifting on the bed, finding the most comfortable spot for them both.
“Does it hurt?”
“It’s okay. God, you’re incredible,” George breathed.
“You are too.”
“Fuck me. Please.”
Alex lost himself, then.
The pressure of George’s body around his cock was mesmerising, and he almost couldn’t focus on more than one sensation at a time. When George scraped his blunt fingernails do
wn Alex’s back, the shock of sweet pain made him hiss, then retaliate by biting George’s jaw. It became something very masculine, this scratching, biting, licking, and demanding more from each other’s bodies.
They were so good together like this. It went back to what they had the first time, that raw, chemical reaction to whatever it was that drew them together. It was sex, pure and simple, and they knew this. Their bodies told the story, writing their history.
Alex reached between them and his hand joined George’s, teasing and stroking and pulling on George’s cock and balls. He felt the orgasm growing between them, one thing they would share. The body beneath his own was coiled tight, like a spring, ready to explode outward with just the right provocation.
“George,” he growled.
“Inside me.”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck!”
George pressed their foreheads together and it was something they shared, the orgasm coursing through them both, inside and out. Alex screwed his eyes shut, needing to feel this, not see it. George’s fingers clenching around his ribs. The harsh cries. The pulsing squeeze in George’s ass, pulling out the orgasm that George wanted inside him.
“Mine,” Alex whispered, not sure where the word came from. “You’re mine.”
He felt George’s lips stretch into a smile against his own. “I can live with that.”
About ten minutes later, George found himself in the cramped hotel bathtub, his arms full of Alex, surrounded by very little water.
He didn’t care in the slightest.
Alex had tipped his head back onto George’s shoulder and was brushing his lips back and forth, back and forth over the same inch of skin. It was too rhythmical, too compulsive to be called kissing. It was lips on skin and the sweetest connection between them.
George tightened his arms around Alex’s waist.
They hadn’t said much since Alex had hauled him off the bed and dragged him through to the bathroom. It was a nice room, not as nice as The Scotsman, granted, but nice enough for one night. So if Alex wanted a bath in this definitely not big enough tub, George would give him that and not complain about it. Much.
