by H L Day
The dildo was withdrawn, leaving me feeling raw and open, my cock throbbing beneath me where it pressed into the mattress. For a moment, I thought I'd pushed him too far, that he might leave. Then strong hands were pushing me down into the mattress. Muscular thighs inserted themselves between mine, his dick resting on my ass cheek. I could feel the latex which told me he'd already put on a condom. I had no idea when he'd taken the opportunity to do that.
Indy let out a moan, his hands skimming over my ass to push the twin globes apart. "God! So hot like this. All needy and desperate for my cock." I didn't reply. I was done talking. I needed action. I needed him inside me, pounding me into the mattress so that I could release the tension in my body. Lips fastened on my neck, hot and hungry, muscles pressed against my back. And then finally, there was what I needed: the pressure of his cock against my hole. He was bigger than the dildo, his entrance causing me to take a sharp intake of breath at the difference in size as he slowly eased his way inside.
I turned my head to the side, bringing our lips together and finding his tongue with my own as he began to rock. Just a tiny movement at first, until my hips started to lift of their own accord to meet the movement. He sat up, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave bruises as he increased the tempo.
A groan escaped my lips every time he buried himself inside me. Yeah, this was what I needed. Not a piece of cold silicone, but a hard body, warm skin brushing mine, and muscles straining as they sought to give me maximum pleasure. He pulled me up onto my hands and knees and I went willingly, the opportunity to reach my cock too good not to take. I started to stroke myself in time with his thrusts, the two of us working in tandem with only one goal in mind.
I was sweating; each slam of his hips drove me closer to the point where I wanted to be. His fingers dug in harder, his breathing ragged and his movements becoming less assured as he neared his own orgasm. I fisted my cock faster, wanting to come before he did, knowing that his continued thrusts through my own orgasm would make it that much more intense. "Don't come yet." My request wasn't fair but I couldn't stop myself from making it.
Indy let out a strangled noise, halfway between a laugh and a grunt of frustration. "I'm trying, but... I can't hold out much longer. You feel too good."
I closed my eyes, my breath coming in pants, my hand a blur. I hung on the precipice for what felt like forever until one deep thrust sent me crashing over it. I collapsed on the bed, my hands and knees giving out as my cock pulsed. Indy came down on top of me as he continued to fuck me, the continued stimulation sending tremors through my body. It was just at that point where sensation was on the verge of changing to pain when Indy let out a shout, his limbs jerking as he came. Then he lay still, his weight pressing me into the bed, the two of us still breathing hard as we came down from the euphoria of a fantastic orgasm. At least I assumed his was fantastic too from the noises he'd made.
I suffered his weight for a few seconds before nudging him with my elbow. "Get off. You're heavy." He wasn't. That wasn't the issue at all. Indy was far too lean for his weight to be that much of a problem. The issue was how good it felt with his muscular body draped over mine and his breathing slowing in my ear. My eyelids were already starting to close. If we fell asleep that way, I was scared he'd take it as some sort of encouragement.
He grumbled a few inaudible words of protest but did as I'd asked, rolling off me and removing the condom before sitting on the edge of the bed. He stretched and I did my best not to watch the ripple of muscles the movement caused. "Where's your bathroom?"
"Down the hall, last door on the right." I didn't bother asking why he needed to know, assuming he wanted the opportunity to clean up. As long as he wasn't planning on taking a bath, I didn't care. I'd made the mistake of leaving his place the other night without taking that time and had regretted it the whole journey home.
"I won't be long."
"Good!"
True to his word, he wasn't, returning in under five minutes. I was still lying on my front, having made no effort to cover myself. What would be the point? It was the same view he'd been staring at for the last thirty minutes or so. I turned my head to the side, watching as he started to gather his clothes together.
"I don't suppose you want me to stay? I'd be up for another round."
I shook my head. Having him come here in the first place had been stupid. But letting him hang around would be stretching the bounds of stupidity too far. "No. Once was enough."
He started to get dressed. "What are you scared of?"
I let out a laugh. "Right, scared! Because of course that's the conclusion you'd come to, not that I've gotten what I need from you and your services are no longer required. Thank you for using your cock to give me a good orgasm as promised, but you're no longer needed."
Feet stepped closer to me. I didn't look up, staring at his feet and noting that he'd already put his shoes on. "I think you're scared that if we talk properly, we'll find out that we've got things in common, aside from an overwhelming compulsion to insert tab A into slot B."
"I doubt that."
Indy's sigh sounded weary. "Well, I can't force you to talk to me. Anyway, it wasn't just an orgasm you gained. You've got an elephant to match your dildo now."
Christ! I'd forgotten about the overgrown monstrosity taking up space in my kitchen. What the hell was I supposed to do with it? "You can take it with you."
"Oh, no!" Indy crouched down so I had no option but to look him in the eye. "That was a gift. A gift you asked for. You're keeping that."
Like hell I was. First chance I got I was getting rid of it. I'd take it to a charity shop, or palm it off on a small child. Or even burn it. Anything but keep it. My expression must have said it all because I got another long-suffering sigh.
Indy stood and I went back to staring at his shoes. His eyes had been a much prettier view. "I'm hoping that at the very least you're ready to admit that we're going to keep having sex? That we're not done yet?"
I rolled onto my back, staring up at him. "One of us will get bored soon."
Indy smiled, his gaze trailing slowly downward to my now flaccid dick. "Probably. Hopefully. But until then"—he held his thumb and little finger to his ear in the universal symbol for a phone—"you've got my number. Call me. I'm working most evenings, but I'm free after my shift, or during the day if you're not working."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to. We both knew I'd be calling.
Chapter Eight
"IS DOMINIC GOING TO be okay?"
I raised my head from the newspaper to find Russell hovering on the opposite side of the table. I had no idea how he'd found me. It was a particularly impressive feat given that I'd traveled much farther afield for lunch than I usually did in a bid to be alone due to the foul mood I was in. Impending parties you didn't want to go to with families you didn't want to see had a habit of affecting your mental state that way. "Did you put a tracker on my phone?"
Russell shook his head, glancing around shiftily for a moment as if he had something to hide. Odd. I added him mentally to the list of people who shared the cauldron before contemplating the question he'd asked. The last time I'd heard from Dominic had been a text informing me that he wasn't quite sure what to do, that Tristan hadn't just wanted a one-off, that he was saying crazy things that Dom wasn't quite sure how to take about them being good together. Dom, of course, was being obstinate. He refused to believe that Tristan could really be that interested in him. God knows what it would take to make him see sense. Tristan really had his work cut out for him. Poor guy.
Even with his nose for gossip, there was no way Russell could be referring to their relationship, or whatever you'd call the thing going on between them, though. I hadn't said a word, and Dom would rather stab himself in the eye than let anyone know. That only left Tristan and I couldn't exactly see him shouting it from the rooftops either. No, there was no way Russell was talking about that. I took a sip of my coffee while I formulated my inquir
y, hopefully in a way which wouldn't give anything away. "Remind me exactly what's wrong with Dominic."
Russell plonked himself down in the seat opposite, reaching for the half of my sandwich I hadn't touched and taking a big bite. "He's in the..."
"The where?" The last word had been lost in a whirlpool of chicken and salad.
He swallowed, answering before taking another bite. "The hospital. I thought you knew."
I sat up straighter, frowning at him. "Why would he be in the hospital, and where exactly did you hear about this? And..." I waved a hand at the sandwich that he was close to finishing. "...don't hold back, help yourself to my sandwich. Asking is so overrated."
Russell nodded. "Thanks. I was hungry." He scratched his head. "I don't think I've got the full story yet, as some of it doesn't make sense. "He was rushed to hospital suffering from anaphylactic shock."
Shit! It was common knowledge to anyone who knew Dom well that he suffered from a severe fish allergy. He was always cautious though, sometimes painfully so. There was no such thing as quickly ordering food with Dom. You had to wait while he dissected the menu for ten minutes and then another ten while he cross-examined the waiter about ingredients. It was annoying but understandable. I'd never been with him when he 'd had an allergic reaction, but he'd told me what happened and it sounded goddamn awful. "He has a fish allergy."
Russell nodded. "That bit made sense. It's the other bit. The fact that Tristan was apparently to blame for it, that's a bit sketchier. Something to do with him cooking for him. Why would Tristan be cooking for Dominic though?"
I could hazard a guess. Probably some sort of effort to impress him that had gone horribly wrong. Fucking idiot! How could Tristan have been so incredibly stupid and careless? Aware Russell was staring at me with knitted brows, I schooled my face. It wasn't my place to give away their relationship, especially not to the company gossip. "He probably brought something in for Dom to try for lunch. Anyway, the how's not really important, is it? How is he? Is he okay? When did this happen? What have the doctors said? Is he still in hospital?"
Russell shook his head. "It happened yesterday. As for the rest, I don't know. He must be okay though, or we'd have heard something. I guess Tristan would be the person to ask since he drove him to hospital. You could pop into his office and ask. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, you know, what with you and Dominic being close."
I didn't give a damn if he did mind. It was all well and good Tristan playing whatever games he was playing, but if Dominic was getting seriously hurt as a result, then I needed to have words with him. Make it clear that Dominic had people in his life who looked out for him. Myself included.
Russell checked his watch. "I've got to get back. I took an early lunch, or I'd wait for you."
I waved him away, my mood made even worse with the knowledge that Tristan had put Dominic in danger. My phone vibrated and I glanced down, stifling a groan when I saw who it was from. Great. Just what I needed. I'd seen Indy twice more since the night I'd given him my address. The meetings had followed the exact same pattern as the previous two: hot sex, Indy persisting in trying to shoehorn conversation out of me, me refusing to get drawn into it, and then a quick exit.
It was concerning that I wasn't getting bored of him yet. If anything, it was getting worse: I was starting to crave him. Physically, anyway. Sex with him was far more satisfying than with most of my previous lovers. He seemed to know how to press all the right buttons. Alarm bells had started to ring. The sensible part of my brain telling me that I should end it. But the part of me that had been celibate for so long kept arguing that I should hang on to the opportunity for some mind-blowing sex without strings for as long as I could. Who knew when the opportunity would arise again? You didn't have to like someone to keep having sex with them. And I didn't like him, but if I was honest, the raw edges of the hatred I'd once felt for him were somewhat muted. Like a sharp pain that had become a dull ache instead. I'd even begun to consider whether Stephen had been telling the whole truth. He'd been caught red-handed with his dick in someone else. Maybe he'd exaggerated in an attempt to save his own neck. Only, Indy had pursued me relentlessly, which fitted with the story Stephen had told. So I just wasn't sure. Anyway, it didn't matter who was telling the truth when it was just sex.
Indigo: Hey! How are you today?
An innocuous enough message, I supposed.
Paul: In a bad mood.
Indigo: :(
Paul: I can't see you tonight if that's why you're messaging. I'm busy.
I wished to hell I wasn't. Losing myself in Indigo's delightfully receptive body would be far preferable to spending one single minute at the stiff, formal party I had to attend that evening. It was only once a year, but it sure felt as if it came around much quicker than that.
Indigo: It wasn't. I'm busy tonight too. Just wanted to see how you were. You know, keep in touch. Maybe tomorrow night? ;)
I didn't like the warm glow that spread through me at his suggestion. But then, why shouldn't I look forward to casual sex? I was a healthy, adult male. That's all it was. I put my phone away without responding and headed back to the office, hoping my mood might improve on the way.
DOM'S DESK, OR WHAT would have been his desk if he'd been at work, was occupied by a woman in her early fifties. She appeared startled as I barreled straight past her to Tristan's door, offering a lie on the way. "I have an appointment."
She began to leaf through numerous pieces of paper on the desk with a worried expression on her face. "I don't think... you can't..."
It was already too late, my hand pushing the door open before she had a chance to stop me. It meant I hadn't knocked either, but needs must. I closed it firmly behind me just in case the mild-mannered stand-in P.A. might decide to try and rugby tackle me to the floor in defense of an office she'd only been stationed outside for a few hours.
Tristan rose from his chair, confusion written all across his face. "I didn't hear you knock." He glanced over to the intercom system on his desk. "Or hear you announced."
I waved a hand. "Erm... yeah. I needed to talk to you. Urgently."
He arched a brow. He really was a good-looking son of a bitch. Dom was a lucky guy. Except he wasn't, was he, because Tristan had almost managed to kill him. Fury which had abated slightly on the way back to work, began to build again. "What did you do to Dominic? Why would you feed him things you know he can't eat? Are you worried that word will get out about what the two of you have been up to? So you thought you'd bump him off?"
The brow arched even higher as he stepped around his desk to lean against it with his arms crossed over his chest. "Let me get this straight. You've come in here—uninvited—to accuse me of trying to kill Dominic?"
Well, when he put it like that, it did sound ever so slightly ridiculous. I'd come too far to back down though. I lifted my chin. "If you weren't trying to kill him, why did you feed him fish when you know he's allergic? Not just a bit allergic. But he-could-die allergic."
Tristan sighed. "I know that now. Dominic hadn't actually bothered to tell me he was allergic, though. You're his friend. You should know that he's not the easiest person to try and prize information out of."
I mirrored his posture, crossing my arms over my chest and refusing to agree with him. "You should have asked."
Tristan's brow furrowed. "You're saying that I should have known to ask him out of the blue if he had a fish allergy? Have you got one?"
I stared at him. "What? No. Why are you asking me?"
"You told me I should ask people. I'm not going to make that same mistake again. Any other allergies I should know about?" He reached behind his back plucking an object off the desk without looking at it. "Are you allergic to..." His glance briefly dropped to what he held in his hand. "...mugs?"
Dom had been right all this time. Tristan really was weird. I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again. Only, he seemed to be waiting for some sort of response. "I don't think anyone's allergic to mugs
. I guess the allergy would be ceramics, but I don't think... even that's a thing. Not one I've heard of anyway."
Tristan shrugged. "Perhaps not the best example, but I'm sure you get my drift. Nobody goes around cross-examining people about allergies before they even know they have one. Trust me, I feel bad enough. You don't need to rub it in."
He sounded genuine enough. The adrenaline that had made me barrel into his office was starting to subside, leaving nothing but worry behind. "Is he okay? You haven't said what happened at the hospital. Where is he now?"
"They insisted on him staying overnight. I went and picked him up this morning and took him home. He's okay. Just tired. I've told him he needs to rest. I'm hoping to go and see him after work, assuming he lets me in, that is."
I shifted my weight, feeling relieved and a bit stupid. There was genuine concern—and guilt—on Tristan's face. There was no doubt in my mind that he cared for Dom. Maybe even more than cared. "Thank God for that! Well, that's... good. I'll erm... call him later." I cast around for something else to say but came up blank. I gestured toward the door I'd burst through a few minutes earlier. "I should probably... get back to work. Let you get on with whatever it was that you were doing." I focused my attention on the crack on the far wall as a means to avoid looking at him. According to Dom, it was a result of Tristan trying to play golf in the office. For that reason, he refused to organize getting it fixed. When Tristan remained silent, I turned on my heel and headed for the door. I was one step away when he called my name.
I turned reluctantly. "Yes?"
The amiable expression on Tristan's face had been replaced by something sterner. Together with the designer suit and the perfectly groomed appearance, it reminded me that despite everything I'd heard about him, he was still the CEO of the company. A CEO whose office I'd barged into without... how had he phrased it earlier? Invitation, that was it. Which, considering my actions, was quite a polite way of phrasing it.
