Don't You Want Me

by Liam Livings

  He smiled at himself, looking like a goofy child in the bathroom mirror, before returning to their seats.

  Tony looked up at him, smiling as well, and without thinking, Nick leant forward and kissed him fully on the lips. Tony leaned up to meet him and put his hand behind Nick’s head, pulling him closer.

  “What was that for?” Tony asked, once the kiss had ended.

  “Thanks.”

  Tony grinned. “That sort of thanks I could do with more of.”

  Nick sat next to him, their thighs brushing together. Feeling bold, he put his hand on Tony’s leg and squeezed. “Well, this sort of friend I need in my life.” Friend. He’d carefully picked that word, despite the kisses. Despite his strong desire to continue kissing Tony, to explore if he felt the same as Nick did. Which, at the moment, was drunk and horny—an enjoyable combination.

  Tony leant forward, kissing Nick then whispering in his ear, “If you take advantage of me, rather than me you, does that make it any less bad?”

  Nick shrugged, not quite seeing the difference.

  “I’m basically your boss. Mentor, at least. And look at us!” He gestured to them sitting close before they embarked on another, lengthier snog.

  Pulling away, Nick said, “I’ll go back to the hotel then. See you tomorrow.” He deliberately looked hurt, laying it on with a trowel, because one thing and only one thing was on his mind.

  Tony held onto his arm. “Don’t go. But we can never speak of this. I’d probably get the sack. Almost definitely. Fired.”

  “Really? Surely, if we didn’t do it at work, they can’t do anything about it. It’s not like there’s an age gap. And you’re not my head of department or something. Plus, we’re both adults. What could they complain about?” Nick was trying to think of reasons they might continue with what had been rather enjoyable up to that point, hoping that if he gently led Tony on, his mentor would willingly follow. To where, Nick was less sure, but if he were the one encouraging Tony and taking charge, it would deal with any power dynamics shit people might later level at them. Fuck other people, Nick thought. “Let’s have something to eat and cool things down.”

  Disappointment flooded Tony’s face. He’d obviously been looking forward to returning to the hotel. “I’m not hungry,” he said firmly.

  “Bollocks. All we’ve eaten today is breakfast and some sandwiches for lunch. I’ve seen a place nearby with five-star reviews.” Taking Tony by the hand, Nick led him out of the bar into the now dark, cool air, crowds of people walking along Old Compton Street, men walking arm in arm, women doing the same. They certainly weren’t in Salisbury anymore.

  “Actually,” Nick said, “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “Yeah?” Tony slurred.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel and eat there. In my room.” There. Now he’d know whether or not Tony was interested in taking things further with him because that was a very definite come-on, and if Tony didn’t come hither, then it would be clear where their friendship stood. I’m seducing the boss. And proud of it.

  ***

  Back to Nick’s hotel room. For food. In his room. That meant only one thing, and Tony liked the sound of it. Dangerous but attractive. Sexy too. He enjoyed someone taking charge, particularly since Tony had to be in such perfect control at work.

  “Great,” he said, smiling as Nick drew him closer and kissed him. Again. So. Damned. Hard. Tony wanted to pull Nick so close there would be nothing between them. He was beginning to imagine the weight of Nick pressing on top of him as he lay on his back, and then he closed his eyes and—

  “Or shall we go to a bar?” Nick asked, a mischievous smile that said he knew he’d just pulled back from the best kiss Tony had enjoyed in a Very. Long. Time.

  “Your room, you said. In the hotel.”

  “I did.” Nick nodded.

  “Taxi!” Tony shouted, waving his hand in the air theatrically.

  In the back of the taxi, they kissed and scrabbled at each other’s clothes, Nick putting his hands underneath Tony’s shirt and stroking his stomach. Tony undid the top three buttons of Nick’s shirt to reveal exactly what he’d hoped—a very sexy, very hairy chest—and he almost burst with excitement. His jeans were also bursting, straining with desire.

  Stroking Nick’s chest, he reached the hard nipples and bit Nick’s lip, then his chin, then returned to kiss his lips. Tony was frantic. Only wanting one thing.

  As the taxi stopped at their hotel, Tony pulled back, adjusting his clothes and telling Nick to do up his shirt. Handing over the money, Tony said to Nick, “Other delegates will be here. We need to look professional. Civilised—”

  “Innocent?” Nick added, raising an eyebrow.

  “That’s the one.” Tony winked as he clambered out of the taxi, unsteadily put his foot on the ground, slipped and fell forwards, landing on his bum on the pavement. “Shit! So much for professional.”

  Nick jumped out of the taxi, scooped Tony up then stood them both solidly upright on the pavement. “OK?” he asked.

  With a nod, Tony dusted himself down and headed for the reception desk. He’d yet to check in, but after some keyboard tapping and checking of the screen, he was told, “We do not have your reservation, sir.”

  Grimacing, Tony replied, “But we should have two rooms. One for him and one for me.”

  More tapping and screen checking and then, “There is one booking from your company. Your colleague has already checked into the room.” The receptionist looked pointedly at Nick.

  “I’m calling my secretary,” Tony said, wobbling from side to side and taking his phone from his pocket, which Nick immediately snatched from his hand.

  “Maybe tomorrow. When it’s earlier and you’re—” He looked Tony up and down. “—not totally and utterly shit-faced?”

  Realising this was perhaps not the best idea he’d had lately, Tony shrugged and turned back the receptionist. “We’re going to have to share a room tonight. I hope you’re happy with yourself. Forcing us to endure this situation. Two grown men, sharing a hotel room. I don’t know what you expect us to do.” He waved his hands about vigorously and was aware his voice was raised. Cocktails—they make you do that. But Tony had developed quite a head of steam by now.

  Stopping him mid-flow, the receptionist said, “We are fully booked all week due to the conference, so I’m afraid I can’t help you.” She smiled and went back to tapping her keyboard and scanning the screen.

  Before Tony could resume his tirade, Nick collected him and swept him to the lift. Once the doors were closed, he said, “What’s with all that performance about us sharing a room?”

  “Wanted to make a bit of a song and dance about it in case anyone sees us and reports it to work. So it’s clear we’re doing it under during…under repress…under… That we don’t want to do it.” Tony turned to look at his reflection in the lift’s mirror. He did look undeniably very much the worse for wear—red-rimmed eyes; hair all over the place from where he’d fallen and had tried, unsuccessfully, to tidy it up; open-necked shirt and crumpled jacket. Well, if I were Nick, I’m not sure I’d find me attractive.

  The lift beeped, signalling they’d arrived at their floor.

  “All right?” Nick asked.

  Tony shrugged, suddenly less enthusiastic about the next stage of the evening than he had been a horny half an hour before. “Maybe I’ll have a little lie-down first.”

  Nick strode ahead, opening the door to his room and waiting for Tony to follow.

  Tony lay on the sofa by the window. There was no way Nick was going to want to do anything more. Not the way Tony looked. No way. No how. Propping his head on the cushion and adjusting his position so he faced the back of the sofa, Tony closed his eyes.

  “Water?” He heard a voice he presumed to be Nick’s behind him.

  *

  Sometime later, after Tony had sipped some water, he was enjoying the very pleasant sensation of being the little spoon to Nick’s big spoon, with Nick lying behind h
im on the sofa, both fully clothed.

  Nick stroked Tony’s stomach and kissed the back of his neck. “Feeling better?”

  Nick’s hot breath sent a tingling sensation through his body, a warmth radiating from his stomach through his chest, complemented by the arms holding him tight.

  Tony simply nodded, wanting to kiss Nick’s hand, which was now resting on his chest, but deciding it felt a bit too ‘coupley’ and smoochy, so instead he just nodded again.

  ***

  Nick reached forward, unbuttoning Tony’s shirt and stroking his chest while kissing his neck. Moving down, he undid Tony’s trousers and reached inside his underpants, grabbing the already straining erection.

  They were soon face-to-face, kissing, breathing in each other’s breath as they pulled on each other’s cocks frantically, desperately, not wanting to let go, not wanting to pause long enough to think about what they were doing and only doing it, continuing to pull and press and kiss and bite at each other until they finished on each other’s hands and stomachs in a panting, sticky mess.

  ***

  The next morning, Tony woke on the sofa, covered in a blanket but still wearing his suit and shirt. Sitting upright, he saw Nick asleep in the double bed, lying on his back with one arm above his head, revealing a hairy armpit and chest. Tony involuntarily stiffened, making him also notice that somehow although still wearing his trousers, he wasn’t fully wearing his underwear. And that his underwear felt crusty. Oh, yes—the frantic hand job with Nick last night. It all came back to him.

  Oh, the regret.

  He needed to rectify that quickly—take a shower and wash the dirt, guilt and depravity of the night before from his weak body.

  Shrugging off his clothes in the bathroom, he jumped into the shower and stood under the jet of hot water for some time, scrubbing and soaping away the sweat, alcohol and come from the last twelve hours.

  Stepping out of the shower, he dried himself, but no matter how much he’d washed and scrubbed, he couldn’t escape the niggling feeling that they’d made a big mistake last night.

  Cocktails and cocks both had a lot to answer for.

  It was only eight o’clock, so they had an hour and a half before the first conference session today. Tony retrieved a clean shirt and new suit from his suitcase, which stood in the corner of Nick’s room—no idea how it had got there—and dressed in the bathroom.

  Content that he looked like something approximating a professional social worker, he sat on the sofa, studying the conference programme he’d found crumpled in yesterday’s suit jacket, diligently circling the sessions he wanted to see. That done, he checked his work phone. No urgent emails. All was well.

  Well, mostly, anyway.

  A loud yawning and creaking of the bed signalled Nick was waking, and he turned over, saying in a sleepy voice that made Tony’s heart beat a little faster, “Morning. How you feeling today?”

  “Fine.” Tony remembered something about a glass being held up to his mouth and being told to drink it. “Did you give me water last night?”

  Nick sat up and tucked the duvet around him, revealing only his arms and sadly covering his very sexy chest. “And paracetamol.”

  “Did you give them to me too?” Tony asked, vaguely remembering someone putting tablets into his mouth, explaining they would help him feel less like dying tomorrow.

  “You wouldn’t drink the soluble one—said it tasted bitter—but you liked the vitamin C solution I made for you. Drank it like it was orange juice.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Tony asked, the sweet, fizzy, orange taste also returning to him in a pleasantly guilt-free memory.

  “Looking at today’s programme?” Nick asked, staring at the piece of paper in Tony’s hand.

  This is good. Nick is continuing regardless of the fact we’ve got to know each other in a carnal sense. And he’s still talking about work. Maybe this would be OK after all.

  “Breakfast and then we’ll decide which ones we’re cheating on and when we can escape?” Nick suggested—more as a statement, Tony felt.

  “Yeah. Sounds good to me. We’ll—”

  “Collect the briefings from outside the rooms, use them instead of going, and make sure we cover the keynotes, at least the last half. And the rest of the time is ours to do whatever we want. About right?” Nick raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes. Exactly as I would do. It’s almost as if you really listened when I told you.”

  “Get my clothes out for me, would you, while I’m in the shower?” Nick jumped out of the bed wearing only his birthday suit.

  It was all Tony could do to avoid staring at Nick in the altogether, his chest covered in dark hair, his legs nicely hairy too. Lithe was the only way to describe him, Tony decided, watching him collect his socks and other discarded clothes from the floor, a glimpse of his tackle dangling tantalisingly between his legs. Nick’s body had outlines of the odd muscle here and there, covered in hair, mainly, but was certainly not muscular. An otter—that was the term used for a man of Nick’s physique, Tony thought, as Nick disappeared into the bathroom.

  So that hadn’t been too awkward.

  A while later, Nick reappeared with a towel wrapped around his waist, chest hair damp, and started searching for his clothes.

  “I’ve laid them on your bed.” Tony gestured to the shirt, chinos, jacket and underwear he’d chosen. Nick didn’t own any suits, or if he did, he’d not brought them with him for the conference.

  And then, as unselfconsciously as if Tony wasn’t sitting a short distance away, Nick proceeded to dress.

  ***

  Nick was enjoying having an audience while he dressed. He was sure Tony had been too drunk to remember much of last night. It had been fun, but Nick had wanted more of a big performance ending to their night rather than a fumble on the sofa.

  So they’d had sex—of sorts—and now they were back to friends; soon, they’d be back to colleagues, externally professional for the outside world to see. Nick wasn’t going to make a big song and dance out of what had happened. So what? He was an adult, and so was Tony. They’d both wanted it last night; judging by the way Tony was watching him pull on his shirt, standing in only his underpants, Tony wouldn’t say no to a repeat. Soon.

  Dressed, Nick grabbed his conference folder and stood by the door. “Ready?” He wasn’t going to mention last night if Tony wasn’t going to. He was quite enjoying the bemused expression on Tony’s face.

  Tony nodded, gathered up his things and followed Nick from their room.

  “New considerations in children’s safeguarding. That’s first, I think,” Nick said as they walked to the lift. “But we’ve still got time for breakfast—if you can face it.”

  Quickly checking his watch, Tony said, “Dry toast and black coffee for me, I think.”

  *

  Over breakfast, they talked about the plan for the day and agreed to split up so they could cover more of the sessions while also giving each other more time off. “Time to work, network or sit reading a book in the hotel room,” Tony had said. “Because it’s important to keep rested. This is day two, and we’ve still got another two to go yet. Gotta—”

  “Pace ourselves,” Nick finished. “I remember.” His eyes glinted as he lasciviously bit into a sausage he’d forked.

  Looking away, Tony said, “If it works for our schedule, I may well go back to bed this afternoon. I feel like an empty husk. An old used flannel. If I meet someone I need to network with, it’s highly likely they’ll ask me if I slept rough last night.” He rested his head in his hands, elbows propped on the table.

  “Scrubbed up well, from where I’m sitting.” Nick dipped the sausage in ketchup and chewed it thoughtfully. He still hadn’t mentioned last night and was instead flirting relentlessly to see how Tony reacted. “Very smooth. I’d take safeguarding advice from you.”

  “Thanks,” Tony said, avoiding his eye.

  They ate the rest of breakfast, circling sessions on the programme and dec
iding whether to meet for lunch or not. Nick wasn’t bothered and said perhaps he’d meet a friend. He didn’t have a friend he could meet, but he felt it would give him a better chance of Tony wanting to spend more time together later that evening. He hoped.

  “Yeah,” Tony said as they arrived at the first plenary session, “I’ll go back to the room for a doze at lunchtime, so you do what you want. Meet that friend.”

  “Yeah,” Nick said, deliberately echoing Tony, “I think I might just do that.”

  Chapter 3

  Somehow, Tony had dragged himself through the morning, resisting returning to the room until lunch, when he’d grabbed two sausage rolls and a chocolate mousse and brought them back to eat in bed. The fact that it was their room—he reflected as he arrived and saw their suitcases in the corner—was something he couldn’t forget. He could, he supposed, call the office and ask for another room to be organised for him, but he knew the hotel was full for the next three nights, so they’d have to book him into another one. And really, he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to admit that to Nick either, not wanting to come on too strong.

  After a quick call to his supervisor, Barbara, where he updated how well things were going and that he’d have lots of learning to share when they returned, he briefly considered mentioning he was sharing a room with Nick, then realised if he did, it would very much become a thing, and a thing—as far as his supervisor was concerned—would need to be sorted. So he decided to ignore it. Truthfully, he was managing to ignore it even though he was sitting in the room itself. If asked, he wouldn’t lie. He’d say yes, they’d shared a room, but one of them had slept on the sofa—because there had been some sleep on the sofa last night. He himself had slept there. After the frantic, desperate, grabbing sex he’d had with Nick. So if anyone asked, he’d point out that Nick had slept on the bed, and that would be an end to it.

  He hoped.

  Of course, he’d told his friend Kieran all about Nick. Tony had spent the weekend with Kieran and their other friends, celebrating Kieran’s birthday, and Kieran had wondered if there was more than friendship between Tony and Nick. At the time, Tony had insisted that no, it was definitely just friendship; he wasn’t ready for another relationship, having been in a series of disastrous ones with wildly unsuitable men, each treating him with varying degrees of shittiness, or him treating them less than well.