The Other Man (Starting Over Book 2)

by Matthew J. Metzger

  “Twat,” Aled said affectionately, thumbing open the text. “It’s from Michael.”

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  “Why the sarcasm?”

  “You beat him to the punch. He wanted to take me for some city break on the continent for my birthday. And Christmas.”

  Michael was one of Gabriel’s other regulars—in fact, since some lad called Justin had gone serious with a Huddersfield bloke, Michael and Kevin were the only other regulars left. Kevin was even kinkier than Aled. Michael, as far as Aled could gather, was more vanilla.

  “Bit romantic, isn’t it?”

  “Not really. You don’t start a romantic city break with an offer to fuck in the train toilets.”

  “Grim,” Aled opined, glancing over the text.

  Then frowned. There were a few of them.

  Michael: Hey angel when you back? Missing the sight of your pretty arse on the end of my dick.

  Michael: Woke up with wood this morning. Need an angel to come take care of it.

  Michael: You back by Wednesday? Got the day off work, could come round and give you something to do.

  Something flickered in Aled’s gut.

  Something hot and angry. Something bad. Something unfamiliar that soured his mood and made him click back out of the texts and pocket the phone.

  Something jealous.

  Chapter Two

  Gabriel sank down in the bath until even his lips were below the surface, and sighed.

  Good, that felt good.

  He’d initially wanted to go home and have some space, but then Aled had offered a hot bath for his aches and pains and the house all to himself.

  “Suze wants me to go round for a couple of drinks with her,” he’d said. “Make yourself at home. If you want to go back to the flat later, there’ll be some emergency notes in the top kitchen drawer, so use those.”

  Gabriel wiggled his toes in the hot water and thought it over.

  Part of him wanted to go home. His own bed, his own space, just spread out in the sheets and catch up on his messages. And part of him wanted to stay the night. His flat didn’t have a bath. And—though he’d never tell Aled, because that would be confessing that Aled had won him over to the octopus routine—he quite fancied being woken up by some soft, sleepy snuggling in the morning.

  That was the biggest danger with Aled. Not the sex games going too far, or that scary cage in the garage for when Gabriel was seriously out of line, or even Aled’s thing for knives that Gabriel had so far refused to indulge. It was being cooked to death by a cuddle in his sleep. The man was like a clingy, overheated beanbag.

  And Gabriel wouldn’t admit it even under threat of the most savage beating Kevin could give him, but…he liked the idea of a bit of snuggling tonight.

  He surfaced a little, tipping his head back to submerge his hair and ears.

  “Happy birthday to me,” he murmured.

  Fucked dumb, then a hot bath and a long cuddle? It didn’t get better than that.

  His phone beeped on the side of the bath, and Gabriel opened a single eye, considering it. It could be Aled. He was really good about the alcohol. If he was drunk, he’d stay the night with Suze. And if he wasn’t, then he’d bring back food.

  Food.

  Gabriel could go for a massive cheese pizza.

  He wiped a hand off on the towel draped over the sink and reached for the phone. Two messages. And neither from Aled. He mulled it over then swiped into them. At least Kevin would need answering.

  Kevin: You back from Scotland?

  Me: Yep :) Soaking in the bath.

  He swiped out and went for the other one, but Kevin was clearly waiting up for an answer, and a reply was pinged back in seconds.

  Kevin: Everything okay?

  Me: Fanfuckingtastic :D

  Kevin: Take it he fucked you a new hole?

  Me: I think my ovaries fell out at some point. He was nearly as savage as you ;)

  Kevin: Nobody’s as savage as me ;)

  Me: Not legally anyway.

  Kevin: Point. Have a good birthday then?

  Me: The best :) I’ll come round and visit you and Judith soon. I wanna see the new baby! Is there a name yet?

  Kevin was family. He and Gabriel had met in the same way he’d met Aled—Grindr, a one-night stand and a discovery of mutual kinks that made regular fucking a good idea. But just like Aled, Kevin had turned into something more.

  But different.

  Gabriel loved them both—but Kevin was like a close friend, a confidant, a mentor, a support system. Aled was a lover. And that was the difference. Gabriel never wanted to be with Kevin. He didn’t want silly dates with Kevin. He wouldn’t go and visit Kevin’s nan. Kevin was—a friend. An exceptionally close one, and with considerable sexual benefits, but a friend all the same.

  A friend who’d saved Gabriel’s life, in more ways than one.

  He’d helped Gabriel beat the alcoholism. He’d kept him sober in the darkest moments. He’d seen him at his absolute worst and still sat with him, still helped him, still wanted him. Still cared. And while Gabriel at twenty-six could point to many people who cared, he’d not been able to do the same at twenty.

  And because Kevin had seen him at his worst—and had been largely responsible for getting him out of it again—he was the only one allowed to instigate rules outside of games. Gabriel was a sexual submissive, but he hated lifestyle submission. Aled could order him around all he wanted when they were having sex, but like hell Gabriel was going to be listening if Aled tried any of that shit when they were out for a walk or planning a trip to the beach or whatever.

  But Kevin?

  Kevin was the exception.

  And the big, inviolable rule was stay in touch.

  Whatever Gabriel did, wherever he was, he had to stay in touch. At least once a week, he had to let Kevin know he was all right. Even if it was just a stupid selfie, or a smiley face—it had to be something.

  Kevin: We think we’ve finally agreed on one. Apparently Kevinella is still not allowed :(

  Me: That’s a horrible name. Judith should name all your children.

  Kevin: Oh sure, take her side.

  Me: Us subs have to stick together :)

  Kevin: I’m going to remember that next time you come round here begging for a beating.

  Me: Ummm…

  Kevin: You free next weekend?

  Me: I’m washing my arse-hair.

  Kevin: For dinner, you tart. Come round for dinner and see the brats. I can inspect you after ;)

  Me: I know how you like to inspect people, no thanks ;) Saturday? I might be working Sunday.

  If he still had a job. Rumours were swirling that they were going to close the shop, but Gabriel was too content to care. Let them. It was a shit job anyway.

  Kevin: Saturday it is. Say hi to Aled for us, and he’s welcome too if he wants. Happy birthday x

  Gabriel smirked. Aled wouldn’t want. He hated kids. He didn’t even come in the house to pick Gabriel up if he suspected the kids might be home.

  Contact duty done, he swiped out of Kevin’s messages and opened the other one—and immediately rolled his eyes.

  Michael: I have a problem.

  “Let me guess,” Gabriel muttered to himself. “It’s ten inches long and fits perfectly inside me.” He sent a single question mark and waited.

  Michael: It’s ten inches long and fits perfectly inside you ;)

  “Oh, hey, I’m psychic.”

  Michael: Missed you ;)

  Michael: You home?

  Me: Nope, staying the night.

  Michael: He must have a good meat stick!!

  Gabriel mimed vomiting. Until Michael, he’d never met anyone who actually said that. Michael had even referred to his cunt as an oven mitten once. The guy was seriously weird.

  Michael: Sack him off and I’ll come round ;) I could hammer nails with this but I’d rather hammer you xxx

  Me: Can’t, sorry :) And I’m back at work next we
ek so I need my beauty sleep.

  Michael: You’re beautiful anyway.

  Gabriel softened. That was ni—

  Michael: And spunk is good for the skin ;)

  “Or maybe not.”

  Michael: Wanna sext?

  Then there was a dick pic. Michael was having one off the wrist. Gabriel tilted the picture and squinted, then laughed.

  Me: Who jacks off to the news?

  Michael: New sports commentator ;) Not as good as you, though. Cock is all ready for you. Come over and it’ll wear you like a glove xxx

  Me: Not right now it won’t. I’m all fucked out.

  Michael: You’ll be fine ;) I’ll go gentle. Come over x

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. Michael was a good lay for one reason and one reason only—it hit all of Gabriel’s dirty sex-toy kinks. Because that was all he felt like when Michael fucked him. He was a hole for Michael to stick his dick into—and that was all that ever happened. He rammed that pole of his inside—and whatever Michael said, it was seven inches, not ten—pumped twice and it was all over. He’d pull out, tuck himself in and that was that.

  Gabriel was nothing more than a living fleshlight.

  And when he was in the mood for that, it was great. Seedy and filthy and anonymous, without the danger of actual anonymous where guys could wig out at being presented with so-called lady bits instead of what they’d been expecting. When he wanted to feel like a cheap whore but didn’t want an involved game, Michael was the perfect screw.

  In every other aspect, he was crap.

  He didn’t know how to work Gabriel’s gear. He either didn’t know or didn’t care about preparation. And he lasted about a minute. It was hardly worth the bother of going round to Michael’s flat in the first place.

  Submerged in the bath, surrounded by the sauna of Aled’s bathroom, and with a phone full of friendly flirting and not-so-suitable welfare checks from his closest friend, Gabriel didn’t particularly want to feel like a whore. He didn’t want any sex at all right that second, but if he had to, he’d take Kevin’s predatory filming, or Aled’s tongue-fucking to convince him he liked it. Time. Effort. Expertise. The sense that it was about him, that it had to be him, even if he was supposedly being forced or coerced.

  Not—Michael.

  Me: Sorry.

  He wasn’t.

  Me: Sometime soon :)

  Maybe.

  Chapter Three

  Aled kept a lid on it.

  He took Gabriel back to the house. Made dinner. Ran a bath when Gabriel asked him to check why his arse hurt so much and dropped his jeans to reveal a burst and bleeding welt. Treated it with the first-aid kit and snuck in a couple of apology kisses to the rest of the affected cheek. Then left Gabriel to soak and replied to Suze’s begging texts for some company.

  And only when he’d buckled himself back into the car did he allow the jealousy—and the corresponding confusion—to take over.

  He’d never been a jealous man. He simply wasn’t. He’d been one hundred percent happy for Suze when she’d gone gaga for Tom in university. He’d kissed his then-wife at the door and told her to be safe when she’d gone out on the pull with her girlfriends. He’d sorted their respective porn collections to minimise accidental crossover without a murmur. He’d known from the very first time he’d slept with Gabriel that he wasn’t the only one doing it. So what? He’d never cared.

  So why had those texts from Michael made him feel sick? Why had he had the urge to delete them, delete him and rub him out of Gabriel’s life?

  God, it was pathetic. And it was a problem.

  Aled freely admitted he wasn’t especially wired to be polygamous himself—he’d slept with maybe five other people in his open marriage, and nobody at all since meeting Gabriel—but he’d never placed any demand for exclusivity on either his ex-wife or his current partner. But how could he not, if he was starting to get jealous? And what did that mean for them, when Gabriel had always been so forthright and honest about his own preferences?

  Gabriel would not—possibly could not—narrow down his sex and love life to Aled alone.

  A crack formed in the middle of Aled’s chest, aching and sore, as he wondered what he was supposed to do about this. And how he was supposed to do it. Gabriel might love him and trust him, but he was still a naturally wary sort of person. Aled still had to tread carefully with important discussions—and he’d intended to have one when they were away.

  And had chickened out.

  As usual.

  Which was why when Suze had texted asking if he was free, he’d said yes.

  Suze could keep a secret. Suze would help. Suze had helped him come to terms with his aggressive tastes in sex. Suze had helped him come to terms with his divorce. And Suze could help him with this.

  So he left Gabriel soaking in the bath, and went straight round.

  Suze and Tom had moved to Wrenthorpe in the summer. Privately, Aled thought the house was hideous. A squat redbrick with enormous windows like bulging eyes and a violently ugly porch jutting out in front like a squashed beak. It was revolting. But Suze called it cute, and Tom had fallen in love with the view over some fields to the back, and that was that. And Aled did have to admit it was nice being able to use a driveway instead of leaving the car in the road at the mercy of all the boy racers round where they used to live.

  Suze had wet, freshly dyed hair when she answered the door, dressed in a pair of bunny slippers, her tartan pyjama bottoms and nothing else. Aled just pulled a face at her tits and asked if she wanted him to go to the Chinese at the end of the road and get their usual.

  “Way ahead of you,” she said. “There’s pizza in the oven and wine in the fridge. Where’s my hug, you slag?”

  Suze had been Aled’s best friend since school. Infant school. They’d grown up together, gone to the same university, shared a flat in second year together and—albeit by coincidence—even ended up working for the same company. Suze had been Aled’s best man at his wedding, and she was threatening him with a bridesmaid’s dress if she ever married Tom. They’d fought, rowed, sulked, not spoken, even outright feuded—and yet they always came back together again. She could slap some sense into him or let him cry on her shoulder. Aled was an only child, but he had the feeling that he knew what it was like to have a sister.

  And with the confusion and anxiety smashing up against each other in his head about this newfound jealousy, he needed his sister.

  So he reached, and squeezed her tight in a hug until she squeaked.

  “Oh,” she said. “What’s up?”

  He grumbled into her shoulder.

  “Oh my God, did you ask Gabriel to—”

  “Chickened out,” he admitted.

  “Aled! Why?”

  “I don’t know, the fear he’d dump me for being too clingy?”

  “It’s been two years! Asking him to move in with you isn’t clingy!” she chided. “It’s weird you’ve waited this long!”

  “Because I don’t want him to think it’s getting too—serious.”

  “Too serious? You are dating. For two years. You are stupidly in love with him and you have keys to his flat. How is this not serious?”

  Aled locked the front door, leaned against it and blurted out, “I’m fucked.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I’m fucked,” he repeated, and ran both hands through his hair. “One of his other regulars texted him while we were away. Asking when he’d be back and offering a fuck and the usual. And I got jealous, Suze.”

  Suze paused.

  She simply stood in the hall, a topless drowned rat, and stared.

  Then she said, “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Aled said weakly.

  “Right.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right. Kitchen. Now.”

  Aled nodded and went into the kitchen. Suze vanished upstairs. He poured out some wine and—screw measures—filled the glasses until they threatened to brim over, then took up a spot at the breakfast bar. H
e drained a glass then refilled it and nursed the second one properly. He chewed on his thoughts until Suze reappeared, now clad in a dressing gown, and threw another at him. The spare. His spare. It had lived in Suze’s various flats and houses ever since they’d stopped living together after their second year at university, for moments just like this.

  Aled shrugged it on over his T-shirt and jeans and buried his nose in the warm collar.

  “Right,” Suze said, taking her wine glass. “Talk to me. You got jealous of one of his other regular guys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jealous like…how?”

  “Like I wanted to punch the guy.”

  “For what?”

  “For—for saying he wanted Gabriel to come back to Leeds soon so they could fuck. It wasn’t even particularly raunchy stuff.”

  “Is this the other kinky guy, or—”

  “No, the vanilla one. Michael.”

  “The weightlifter?”

  “No, that one’s got a boyfriend now.”

  “Right,” Suze said again then winced. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’ve got no idea,” Aled confessed.

  “Do you think maybe it’s a one-time thing, or—”

  “I hope so, but what if it’s not?”

  Suze bit her lip. “Well, you’ll need to talk about it.”

  “Talk to Gabriel about it? Are you kidding? He’ll freak and run a mile. He doesn’t do jealous doms.”

  “If you don’t, he’ll pick up on something being wrong anyway, and God knows what he’ll think has fucked you off.”