by Nicola Haken
I nodded, I think.
“You dry off. I just need to wash my face properly.”
Again, I think I nodded. Honestly, I was in too much of a daze to be sure of how I responded.
After towelling myself dry, I waited for Oliver to finish in the shower seeing as I didn’t know where I was. He didn’t take long, thankfully, or else I would’ve ended up back in there with him.
When he emerged, he dangled what looked like two dead spiders between his fingers. “Really should’ve taken these off before, but you distracted me,” he said with a cheeky smile that I wanted to kiss right off his face. He tossed the eyelashes onto the unit surrounding the sink and grabbed a towel from the rail, running it over his wet skin, the skin my hands would be exploring very soon.
He looked so different without the make-up, still beautiful, but more…chiselled. His jaw seemed squarer, nose thicker, lips finer. He had a strong neck and broad shoulders. It took talent to disguise those things, and look stunning either way. He was hot.
I trailed behind Oliver as he led me to the bedroom, admiring the way his arse flexed with each stride he took. He looked over his shoulder when we reached the bed, sucking the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth, before turning around fully and falling backwards onto the mattress. Winking, he motioned his hands over his body, as if to invite me to do whatever I wanted to him.
With that glorious cock, thick and long, lying proudly against a patch of neatly pruned coarse, copper hair, I knew exactly where I wanted to start.
Crawling onto the king-sized bed, the satin duvet soft under my knees, I straddled Oliver’s waist and placed a series of soft kisses across his lips before shimmying further down. I ironed my palms down his thighs, noticing how firm his muscles were under my touch. He may have been slender to look at, but beneath the surface, Oliver was incredibly fit. And smooth. Flawlessly smooth. His skin felt like silk as my fingers caressed every inch of his long, sculpted legs before settling around the base of his cock.
I wanted to tease him, torment him like he did me, but then a soft moan escaped from his throat and my only goal became getting him to do it again. So I squeezed gently, making a fist and dragging it slowly up to his tip.
“Oh my God…” he breathed, bucking his hips and forcing his cock deeper into my hand.
I twisted and turned, tightening and relaxing my grip as I lowered my head and pushed my tongue through my lips, flicking his swollen tip.
“Oh…Shit!”
I sucked him all the way into my mouth, a burst of salty pre-cum exploding on my taste buds. His fingers dug into my hair, controlling my speed, dragging me faster and harder onto his cock as I palmed his smooth balls, tugging and teasing the sensitive skin. I’d just built up a steady rhythm, groaning around his cock, knowing the vibrations would travel along his shaft and drive him insane, when he tugged on my hair, pulling me off him.
Sitting, he pulled my face to his, kissing me with so much passion and need it stole my breath, before rolling me onto my back. I shuffled further up the bed, watching Oliver with curiosity as he scrambled over to the bedside table and fished around in the drawers, his hand returning moments later with a condom and a pump-bottle of lube.
I swallowed hard, from nerves or excitement I wasn’t sure. Probably a mix of both.
Eyes on mine, Oliver moved down the bed and knelt between my legs. For a moment, he just stared at me, letting his gaze rake over my body, up and down my chest, over my cock, before settling back on my face. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he said, cupping my balls and squeezing gently.
His words alone were almost enough to make me shoot my load all over my stomach. This man just got better and better. The things he said, the way he made me feel, not just physically but the little twinges deep inside my stomach, the unfamiliar emotions in my chest, the thoughts in my head… It grew stronger each time we spoke, touched, kissed. Every time I thought of him these weird feelings, that I couldn’t help think shouldn’t be there after so little time, continued to deepen.
I bit down on my lip, captivated by Oliver’s every movement as he pressed down on the bottle of lube and coated his fingers in the clear liquid. My legs fell open automatically for him as he reached down, his slick fingers stroking between my cheeks before circling my hole.
“Mmm,” I moaned into the air, urging my arse forward. “Holy fuck.” I sucked in a gasp when one finger pushed inside before drawing torturously slowly back out. Then he did it again, softly, gently, exploring the inside of my body in tiny circles before adding another finger and making me cry out his name. “Fuck, Oliver!”
“Do you like that?” he asked, staring up at me from the bottom of the bed.
I raised myself up on my elbows, watching him fuck me with his hand. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, seeing his fingers disappear into my body, feeling them scissor inside me before sliding back out. “Yes. God yes.”
Fisting the sheets, I rocked my hips in line with his increasing speed, thrusting myself onto his hand, my cock weeping, my balls throbbing and threatening to explode. “Please, Oliver. I need you to fuck me,” I begged, my voice hoarse and desperate. I’d never wanted, needed to come so badly in my life, and I wanted to feel myself tighten around this incredible man as I did it.
He ripped his fingers from my body and I mourned the loss of him instantly. “Now, Olli. Oh, God, now.”
Grinning, he towered over my chest, bending down to my face and whispered, “Patience,” before grazing my lips with his and rocking back on his heels.
Desperate to ease the throbbing ache in my cock, I palmed it up and down a few times while I watched him roll the condom down his length before coating it with a generous drizzle of lube. Placing his hands on my thighs, he pushed them towards my chest while his cock nudged at my hole.
“Ready?” he asked.
Inhaling a deep, preparing breath, I nodded. “Yes…” My breath fell out on a stutter as he eased himself inside.
“God, you feel so good,” he breathed, stilling after pushing through the initial resistance, giving me a moment to adjust to him.
I felt so full, so tight around his cock. It burned, at first, but when he started to move pressure, delicious, fiery pressure started building deep in my belly, spreading to my balls. “Go faster, Oliver,” I pleaded, taking my cock in my hand. “Please.”
Grabbing onto my thighs, his fingers digging deep into my flesh, his slow, gentle thrusts turned into hard, fast dives. I tugged at my cock, gripping it tight, feeling heat spread across my neck and down my chest as the violent tingles of my impending orgasm shot down my spine. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Oh, shit, I’m…I’m…”
“That’s it, Seb,” Oliver said, his voice a pained cry as his cock plunged into me over and over again. “I want to see you come all over yourself.”
“Oh my…fuck!” Spurts of hot cum erupted from my tip, some landing on my chest and the rest coating my fingers.
My arse pulsated around Oliver’s cock, drawing him into me, and as I massaged my cum into my sensitive tip, his head tipped back and his back stiffened as he thrust into me a final time. “Holy shit!” he choked out, his body juddering before his hands lost their grip on my legs.
Breathless, he collapsed on top of my chest and nuzzled my neck, peppering soft kisses below my ear.
“Wow,” I whispered, my body limp and my mind in a haze.
“Yeah,” he agreed, laughing quietly against my neck.
Strangely, once our climaxes had dwindled and we’d cleaned up with a towel Oliver had brought with him from the bathroom, our roles reversed yet again, and meek and mild Olli returned. He lay on my chest, his cheek resting over my heart as I twirled a lock of his coppery-red hair around my finger. He looked so perfect, lying there. So content and comfortable. I didn’t want this to be the last time I got to hold him this way. This felt different to anything I’d experienced before. This was…special. What just happened mattered. I’d had one night s
tands before, not many, but enough to know what they involved. This wasn’t that. I’d had meaningful sex before, been in relationships. This wasn’t that, either. This was…
This was…more.
“That was…you were…” I couldn’t find the words to describe what just happened between us. Incredible didn’t seem to do it justice.
I felt him smile against my chest. “You pegged me for a bottom, didn’t you?” he asked.
“I…” I wasn’t sure how to reply without offending him. It’d been judgemental of me to presume he liked to bottom because of his feminine flair, yet I’d subconsciously done it anyway.
“It’s okay. Most guys do.”
“Most guys, eh?”
“Hey, not that I’m a slut or anyth-” He cut himself off when he lifted his head and saw my teasing smirk. “Arse.” He didn’t lie back down on my chest and I missed it as he settled his head on the pillow next to mine. “Guess I just like the feeling of taking a man who’s bigger than me and doing whatever I want with him.”
“Pretty sure you just described rape.”
Scrunching his face up, he jabbed me in the chest. “Shut up. You know what I mean. God, you ruin everything with that mouth.”
Grinning, I leaned forward and brushed the tip of my nose against his. “You weren’t saying that when it was wrapped around your cock.”
A soft moan trickled from his throat at the memory. “You weren’t talking then-” Wedging a hand between our bodies, I reached down and massaged his balls. “Oh, God…”
“You were saying?” I asked, peppering kisses along his jaw.
Groaning in defeat, Oliver ripped the duvet off our bodies and straddled my hips, his growing cock bouncing off my stomach as he brought his lips to mine. “You don’t play fair.”
* * *
The next morning I awoke to one of my favourite smells in the world. Sausages. Rolling onto my back I stretched out my body and let out an impressive yawn before trying to remember where the bathroom was. I carried out my morning essentials quickly – pee, wash, brush teeth, although I had to substitute a toothbrush with my finger before throwing on my pants from last night and wandering out into the open plan living space.
Passing the window on the way, I saw rain pelting down heavily outside and hoped Marv got in okay last night. Usually, I let Mrs Wilson from next door know if I’d be out all night so she’d pop in to check on him, but I hadn’t. Hopefully she noticed I was gone and used her initiative. If, for some reason, Marv’s cat flap failed and he’d been left out in this rain, he’d probably shit in my bed as payback when I got home.
“Ah, I’m glad you’re awake before I plate up,” Oliver said when he saw me. Dressed in only a loose-fitting vest top that skimmed his thighs, he held up two bottles of sauce. “Red or brown?”
“For sausage, gotta be red.”
“There’s bacon too. It’s under the grill.”
Damn, it was way too early for such big decisions. “In that case I’m gonna need brown too.”
His nose scrunched up into a cute little ball, but he didn’t question my odd flavour combination as he put both bottles of sauce on the round bistro table that separated the kitchen from the lounge. Taking a seat on one of the metal chairs, I watched him move around the kitchen, humming along to Ex’s and Oh’s by Elle King on the radio as he danced between the stove and the toaster.
The scene I found myself living in felt awfully domesticated, and I liked it. A lot. The problem was we still didn’t really know each other, and if I wanted this to continue that needed to change. If I wanted more mornings like this he had to know who the real me was. He needed to know that yesterday wasn’t my typical Saturday, that usually I had my fifteen-year-old son to take care of.
He needed to know that I was bisexual, and that being with him wouldn’t magically ‘cure’ my attraction to women. I’d fallen into the pretending to be gay trap, straight too, before. If I was truthful, I’d been doing the latter for the last four years, and I was tired. Lying was exhausting, disheartening, and honestly I didn’t even know why I did it. I told myself I wasn’t ashamed, but on some level I must have been.
Then I remembered Oliver on that stage last night, so fierce and proud, rocking the shit out of those long leather boots, his voice so damn powerful I wanted to turn it into a blanket and keep it wrapped around me for the rest of my life…and I really did feel ashamed.
If Oliver had the courage to reveal who he was to the world then I could do the same to one man. He deserved that. I deserved that. Even after the relatively short time we’d known each other I respected him too much to lie to him, to pretend for him. I knew who I was, and I wanted Oliver to know too.
I could only hope he would accept it.
Just not today. Last night, and this morning, had been perfect, and I wanted to remember them that way.
“Wow,” I breathed rubbing my hands together when Oliver placed a plate, stacked high with sausages, bacon, beans, toast, and two fried egg yolks in front of me. “You remembered?” I said, pointing towards the eggs.
Taking a seat opposite, he smiled and pointed to the fried egg whites on his own plate. “Of course. We’re destiny, right?” he said, pushing my knife and fork towards me.
And just like that, he took another tiny piece of me that I didn’t think I’d ever get back.
“I hope your friend won’t mind that you’ve emptied his fridge.”
He shrugged, cutting into his bacon. “I’m doing him a favour. He needs to watch his cholesterol in his old age.”
Laughing, I dipped a piece of sausage in my beans and popped it in my mouth. Mmm. Heaven.
As the minutes ticked by I found myself paying more attention to Oliver than I did my breakfast. He didn’t mix his food, eating one component entirely before moving on to the next. Not a big deal, but it fascinated me, just like everything else about him. He caught me staring several times and at first he stared right back, but eventually he became adorably embarrassed and tried to focus on his food.
“I really like you, Oliver,” I said, reaching out and brushing over his forearm, the skin still mottled with yellowy-green bruises. I didn’t care how cheesy it sounded. I liked him, really liked him, and I wanted him to hear it.
A small smile played on the corners of his lips, his head tilting to one side. “I like you, too.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, are we, I mean I don’t know if this is the kinda thing we need to talk about. Like I’ve said before I’m not all that good at this shit. I just…” Jesus, stop rambling, I inwardly cursed myself. “I want to do this again. With you. Only you. I’m not after a bit on the side. I want us to get to know each other. So I suppose what I’m-”
“Are you asking me to go steady with you, Sebastian?” he interrupted, followed by an amused chuckle.
“Well when you say it like that it makes me feel like we’ve slipped into an American high school movie, but yeah. I guess I am.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, grinning. “One too many episodes of Teen Wolf.” Taking my hand off his arm, he laced his fingers through mine. “I want that, too.”
Damn those eyes of his. Those pools of blue did insane things to my body.
“We should-” I was about to suggest we celebrate our official relationship status in the shower when the sound of the flat door opening disrupted me.
We both turned towards the noise to find Oliver’s friend, Rhys, walking through it, looking decidedly less graceful than I remembered him.
“Sorry to interrupt the love fest,” he said. “I had to escape.” Skulking gingerly over to the window, he drew the blinds closed and plopped himself down on the sofa, hiding his face behind a cushion.
“What happened?” Oliver asked. “You had a row with Davey?”
“Stop yelling,” Rhys muttered, peeling the cushion off his face. “And get me some painkillers.”
“I’m not your slave,” Oliver replied in the same quiet voice he’d been using all along,
yet he slid his chair out from beneath the table anyway and walked over to the cupboard above the sink, where I presumed Rhys kept the medicines. “So what happened with Davey?” he added, taking Rhys a box of ibuprofen and a glass of water.
“I didn’t go to Davey’s. I went home with that guy. The one with the nose ring.”
“That’s not like you.”
“It wasn’t like me, until a few months ago. I think I’m havin’ a mid-life crisis. Anyway, I wake up this mornin’ to the sound of retchin’ comin’ from the bathroom and the most intense feelin’ of gay-ja-vu washes over me. Then I remember. I’ve been here before. In this same bed. Listenin’ to this same guy. A guy who can tickle his lungs with the tip of my dick without blinkin’ but can’t stand the feelin’ of a toothbrush in his mouth.”
“Oh my God.” Oliver’s hand flew to his mouth. “I, um, I’m not really sure what to say to that.”
“And to top it off I’ve got a soddin’ great blister on my heel. Those new shoes were pinchin’ somethin’ rotten all last night.”
Oliver offered a sympathetic frown.
“I think I’m gonna give up on relationships and get a cat,” Rhys said before tossing two painkillers in his mouth and washing them down with a glug of water.
“Nah. Cats are evil and they stink,” Oliver said.
“I have a cat,” I cut in.
Oliver’s neck jerked around, his expression sceptical like he didn’t know whether to believe me. Seriously, if I was going to lie to make myself sound interesting I’d have thought of something more impressive than owning a moggy.
“His name’s Marvin.”
“Oh.” Oliver’s lips melted into a guilty line. “Well I’m sure they’re not all evil. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. He’s kind of an arsehole.”
He started to laugh but stopped himself. “Wait…Marvin. So that would make him Marvin Day?”
Finally! Someone who appreciated his name. His vet simply sniggered and Lisa looked at me like I was a spanner short of a toolbox.
