by Helen Juliet
Nicholas toyed with his phone throughout the short journey, half listening as the Uber driver ranted good-naturedly about politics. Fynn did a good job keeping up with him, but Nicholas couldn’t really tell who or what he was for or against, but he did know that ‘they’ couldn’t get away with it ‘for much longer’.
Fynn had an account already set up on the app, but he did accept Nicholas giving him a few quid once the guy stopped outside his apartment building. “Cheers mate,” he said, showing the driver the five-star rating he’d given him on his phone screen. He then followed Nicholas and his umbrella out into the rain.
Clara still hadn’t texted him asking for him to buy anything, so Nicholas pocketed his phone and concentrated on making the now-familiar journey across the courtyard and into Fynn’s building.
“Is your aunt back today?” he asked as they stepped inside. His glasses fogged up as usual under the might of the climate control, but Fynn was ready and waiting to take the umbrella off his hands so he could wipe the lenses off on his t-shirt.
Fynn shook his head. “Her conference is a three day one, so she’s in London until Friday. I mean, she’s back in the evenings, but I basically have the place to myself right now.”
That sent a thrill down Nicholas’s spine, he couldn’t deny. They would be alone again. And with his new-found acceptance of his feelings and who he was, he couldn’t help but find the prospect just a little bit enticing.
“Have you lived with your aunt long?”
Nicholas had been wanting to ask about Fynn’s circumstances since Monday, but he’d not had the opportunity to do it without sounding like he was being completely nosy. He was curious, obviously, but it was because he wanted to get to know Fynn better, to understand why he didn’t live with his parents and if he was okay with that. Not because he wanted gossip.
Fynn took his time fishing his keys out of his jacket. “A few years now,” he said. He jammed the right one into the lock and let them inside. “My parents always wanted to live in France. They have a chateau in Dordogne, but they had to wait until I went off to college to move there permanently. They’d packed up and gone by the time I finished my first term, but my aunt already agreed to take me in, so I had somewhere to go outside of school.”
He propped the umbrella up in the same corner as before, and flicked the kettle on as if nothing was amiss. But Nicholas was a bit stunned.
“They just…left?” he asked as he wriggled out of his shoes and coat.
Fynn’s focus was on his tea making. “I wasn’t planned,” he said. He threw a smile over his shoulder at Nicholas. He was obviously aiming for flippant, but there was definitely something sad in his grey eyes. “My brother and sister are over a decade older than me. My mum and dad had already had to put off their retirement for several years because of me, so I can’t say I blame them.”
“For literally fleeing the country the first opportunity they got?” asked Nicholas. He stomped into the kitchen and stood in front of Fynn where he couldn’t miss him. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “They ditched you!”
“Don’t be daft. I still Skype them most weekends,” Fynn insisted with a frown. “And my dad’s on Facebook a lot. They’re just living their lives, and I’m living mine.”
Nicholas felt hurt on his behalf. What a way to tell a kid he wasn’t wanted. Even if they had to hang on before they got to go have their fancy retirement, why would you tell your child that? Had Fynn always known he wasn’t wanted? That he was an accident? Nicholas remembered what he’d said before: ‘Art lasts. People don’t.’ He had a better idea of where that little mantra had probably come from now.
“Well I’m glad you were born,” he said quietly, his gaze on the linoleum floor.
He realised that sounded a little intense, but rose his head to find Fynn looking fondly at him. “Is that so?”
Nicholas cleared his throat. “Yeah. I mean, who else would save my sister’s wedding?”
“Literally any other musician,” Fynn said. He looked pleased, and made Nicholas’s tea the way he liked it without having to ask for a reminder. “So, how exactly is this wedding cursed?”
Nicholas groaned. “Urgh! You don’t even know. Everything’s going wrong, and I’m pretty sure it’s my fault.”
Fynn lead the way with the soaked umbrella, just like the day before, and opened it up in his en-suite to dry. He closed the door to his room, even though they were alone, and for a moment Nicholas forgot what he was saying.
“How is it your fault?”
“Well, first it was the harp,” he said.
He realised he’d sat on the end of the bed before he knew what he’d done. It would seem weird if he moved now, so he got comfy despite worrying it was too intimate. He held his fingers up, and started ticking off the catastrophes.
“Then the cat shredded the bridesmaids’ dresses. We’ll be lucky if we can save them, and if we can’t, the girls will probably end up in Primark’s finest. Then my aunt from Scotland got food poisoning, so we’re not sure if her or her boys will make their flight now, and if they don’t come that apparently destroys the table plan in its entirety. And don’t even get me started on how our name cards got sent to the other side of the world, and the ones we have now are bright blue and orange, and I actually care! I care that these little bits of cardboard aren’t right, and that the seats may be all wrong if we can’t rearrange things. When I thought I lost the ties?” He pointed at Fynn, hoping to convey the gravitas of his woe. “I sat bolt upright in bed in the middle of the night, clutching my heart like Frankenstein’s monster coming to terrible, terrible life, and thought the world was ending. Because of some ties!” He sucked in a deep breath, then caught sight of the umbrella sitting innocuously in the en suite. “Oh! Oh! And this bloody rain won’t stop! Honestly, I’m just waiting for the groom to get struck by lightning, or for a plague of locusts to descend. It’s probably only a matter of time!”
Fynn was gazing at him over the top of his mug with amusement in his eyes. He’d settled against his pillows, and the déjà vu from yesterday was getting a little strange. Except Nicholas liked it. It felt easy, like they already had a routine that was theirs alone. “And how is that your fault?”
Nicholas huffed. “Well I started it, didn’t I? If I’d just remembered to book my mate’s sister to play, perhaps the universe wouldn’t be smiting me now.”
But then, he would never have met Fynn. He squirmed. He was so tempted to say that out loud, but he didn’t want to sound obsessive.
He sighed instead and smiled at Fynn, who was still watching him from behind his tea. “Hopefully it’ll all work out for the best,” he said. “I mean, you’re probably better than some stuffy harpist, right?”
“Damn right,” agreed Fynn with a positively sinful grin. “Hey, I thought of another song to play. I think you’ll really like it.”
He swapped his tea for his guitar and only needed to give it a quick adjustment before it was all tuned again.
“Is it one I’ll know?” asked Nicholas, grateful for the distraction. If he was honest, he was even more pleased with the idea that Fynn had been thinking about songs Nicholas would like. He was warmed with the notion of being in his thoughts.
Fynn nodded, strumming the first chord. “Should do.” He played another couple of simple chords. “This is my girl Hannah Trigwell – her version I mean.”
Nicholas nodded back to show he was listening, eager to see what song Fynn had thought he’d appreciate.
“We’re no strangers to love,” Fynn began slowly. He raised his eyes, watching Nicholas for his reaction, but he didn’t recognise the song yet. “You know the rules, and so do I.” The guitar part was really stripped back, just one clean chord after another. But the vocal was gorgeous, and Nicholas already liked it very much. “A full commitment's what I'm thinking of. I wouldn't give it to any other guy.”
“It’s beautiful,” Nicholas murmured in encouragement. Fynn added a few extra notes
to the melody, picking up and down the cords with the plectrum.
“Yeah?” he asked, grinning. Nicholas didn’t quite get why that was funny.
“Sure. I think it’d be a great to play at the wedding.”
Fynn licked his lips, and played the twiddly part for a bit longer. “I just want to tell you how I'm feeling. Gotta make you understand.”
Something twigged in Nicholas’s brain. “Wait…”
“I’m never gonna give you up—”
“No!” Nicholas shouted. He almost lunged forwards, but his tea sloshed in his mug, and he quickly righted himself.
“Let you down, run around, desert you.” Fynn was cackling. He hopped of the bed as Nicholas tried to grab at his guitar again. “What’s the matter, I thought you liked it?”
“You fucker!” Nicholas howled. He scrambled off the bed and slammed his mug down. “You are not Rick-Rolling my sister’s god damn wedding!”
“Never gonna make you cry, say goodbye,” Fynn continued skipping across his room as Nicholas chased after him.
“Stop it!” giggled Nicholas, swiping at Fynn. But he was bigger and quicker, and he swung out of his reach.
“But I thought you liked it?” Fynn pretended to pout. “Tell a lie or huuurt you. It’s beauuutiful, remember?”
Nicholas darted left and right, trying to get his hands on Fynn. They were both laughing like loons now. “It’s Rick fucking Astley is what it is!” he cried, cornering Fynn by his wardrobes.
“Is it?” he asked innocently. “I’m never gonna give you up…”
He nipped past Nicholas’s reach, turning them around and forcing Nicholas to stand against the wall. “Bastard!” he stammered through his laugh.
“Let you down, run around, or—”
And without warning, that was when Fynn leant in, and kissed Nicholas softly on the lips.
Chapter Nine
It was over before Nicholas even really knew it had begun.
Fynn pulled back, their lips separating, and the guitar’s last note diminished between them. “You kissed me,” said Nicholas. It seemed the obvious thing to point out.
Fynn was very still, his hands gripping his instrument tightly at both ends. “Yeah.” His eyes didn’t blink, or move even in the slightest. “I’m sorry.”
Nicholas was all breath and no real voice. “Now who’s apologising?”
“I should have asked.”
He seemed absolutely torn up, which Nicholas couldn’t understand at all. His heart was dancing on cloud nine. “So ask.”
Fynn looked at him, the guitar hanging between them like a chastity belt. “May I kiss you? Again,” he tacked on with a twitch of a smile.
“Oh god yes,” rasped Nicholas, lunging for him.
Fynn grabbed the back of his head as Nicholas seized two handfuls of his t-shirt. This wasn’t a kiss, it was a collision. There were more teeth than Nicholas had ever experienced before, but there was more tongue too, and Fynn’s hands were yanking and pulling, and they couldn’t see to get close enough.
Fynn ripped away, but before Nicholas could protest, he saw it was just so Fynn could hoist the guitar over his head, and set it carefully against his chest of drawers. And then his hands were slipping around Nicholas’s waist and behind his neck, pulling their bodies together.
Nicholas felt his legs give way, but Fynn had him. His own hands moved from Fynn’s shirt and wrapped around his back, feeling the muscles move as he sank into the kiss. Fynn cradled him upright, and then took a few steps backwards.
Towards the bed.
Nicholas followed.
His skin was alight with want; he’d never felt so heady. He allowed himself to be gently pulled downwards.
“Oh fuck,” Fynn breathed into his mouth. It was all Nicholas could do was whine in response.
Fynn hit the mattress and broke contact to back himself up against the pillows, where he’d been perched for the last couple of days, and yet, Nicholas knew there and then he was in a whole new territory now.
He crawled up after him and was soon swallowed again in his embrace. He realised his glasses were in the way, so he took them off and twisted to try and put them somewhere where they wouldn’t get broken. But Fynn plucked them from his fingers, and placed them on the bedside table for him, taking care to sit them the right way up. And then they were cuddled up once more.
Fynn’s lips were thick and plush and needy. They moved against Nicholas’s over and over, giving and begging in equal measures. Nicholas snuggled into the pillows, and let himself be claimed.
He had noted over the past few days that Fynn’s hands were large. But he hadn’t really appreciated how much so until they were roaming up and down his back, gripping his hip, slipping up his arm, combing his scalp. He moaned. It was highly embarrassing.
Fynn, however, responded with shifting his body a few inches, and with that he was hovering over Nicholas, kissing him with an intoxicating desperation. Nicholas reached up and dug his fingers into those gorgeous dreads. They were a little scratchy under his fingers, but he loved it, because they were Fynn’s and they were amazing.
“Fynn,” he whimpered, not really sure what he was doing. Just that saying his name, like this, pinned under him, it was unfathomable and yet all-consuming.
Fynn cradled his face with both his hands as he kissed him. His short beard was soft, but Nicholas’s sensitive skin was unaccustomed to the sensation, and he winced.
“Are you okay?” Fynn asked, pulling back.
Nicholas felt like yanking him back down again, but he did need to catch his breath, so he settled for resting his hands on his chest instead. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah, I think so. This is brilliant. I, um, I’m really enjoying it.”
Fynn smiled, and starting lacing delicate kisses down his jaw on onto his neck. It made him shiver from head to toe. “I was kind of hoping,” he admitted.
“Um.” Nicholas tried to control his mouth, he really did. But seeing as it was no longer otherwise engaged, he couldn’t seem to stop it. “Not that this isn’t incredible, but, um…”
That did get Fynn’s attention. He paused his ministrations and looked down. One hand held the back of Nicholas’s head, and the other moved down to rest on his waist. “Is this okay?” he asked. There was a hint of strain around his eyes which portrayed his concern.
“Yeah, it’s definitely okay,” Nicholas was quick to assure him. “I just, I guess,” he laughed nervously. Fynn’s eyes looked so big when they were that close to him. “I’m a bit surprised.”
The apprehension in Fynn’s eyes melted away. “Why?” he asked. He wasn’t helping Nicholas’s concentration though, as the fingers around his waist were rubbing in little circles, and he dipped down to nuzzle his nose against his neck and clavicle.
Nicholas moaned, his eyes fluttering closed. “Well,” he whispered, breathlessly. “You’re you. You’re gorgeous, and talented, and cool. And I’m just this dork—”
The bite on his shoulder was wholly unexpected, and made him break off his words in an undignified yelp. “We’re going to have to work on your self-esteem,” Fynn growled. He kissed and sucked at the spot at which he’d nipped, and Nicholas squirmed. “Do you want to see how much I like you?”
Spots danced in front of Nicholas’s closed eyes, and he gasped for air. “Uh,” he uttered. “Yeah, but, I – I’ve not done, um, anything…”
Oh fuck. Was there anything more mortifying than admitting to someone as hot as Fynn that he was a virgin? He’d barely ever made out with anyone; he’d never been interested before. When he had, at the odd birthday party or school disco, it had always been burdened with a sense of obligation. That he should have been enjoying himself, rather than actually deriving any pleasure from it.
Now he was drowning in pleasure, and he was about to blow it with his honesty.
But Fynn would very quickly work out he was totally inexperienced if they were going to carry on like this, and it was probably best to let him down now.
“If you’re looking to just mess around,” he blurted quickly before he could change his mind, “you might want to find someone better.”
Fynn kissed his way up Nicholas’s throat. “You’re an idiot.”
Nicholas huffed. “That’s sort of my point. Why would you want to—ngh.” He lost all coherency as Fynn took his earlobe between his lips and sucked. Who on Earth would have guessed that that felt so toe-curlingly sublime? “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he managed to bite out.
Fynn released his ear and gave him another tender kiss on the lips. “We can go slow,” he promised.
But Nicholas shook his head. “Why would you want to go at all?” His voice sounded pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. “Why would you be interested in me?”
Fynn frowned. It wasn’t very attractive, Nicholas realised, whining and fretting. He couldn’t help how he felt. “Because I am,” said Fynn simply. “I like you. You’re funny and thoughtful and seriously cute.”
Nicholas blushed, obviously. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Fynn took his time kissing him.
“I like you too,” Nicholas managed to mumble as their lips parted briefly for air. Fynn grinned.
“Well, that’s nice to know,” he teased. “Can we carry on making out now?”
Nicholas rolled his eyes and acted annoyed, but it couldn’t have been very convincing. “Oh, alright.” He leant up to capture Fynn’s mouth once again.
He realised he was being rather passive in this whole affair. He remembered his hands, which he’d just left pressed against Fynn’s chest, and moved them along his body to hold his back and his neck. His skin was so warm under Nicholas’s palms, and he wondered how good it would feel without clothes in the way.
Fynn shifted again so their bodies were closer together, and it became evident to Nicholas that his jeans were getting uncomfortable in the crotch area. He was hard as a rock, and his dick was definitely looking for some friction to give it some release. Fynn must have felt him fidgeting, and responded by rolling his body along Nicholas’s. There were so many solid muscles moving over him, and Nicholas rubbed shamelessly back against them, like a cat seeking more petting.
