by Drew Hunt
“Matt said it’s difficult to get a decent cup of tea in Australia.” Martin said.
Colin laughed, recalling his uncle’s complaints about how he missed a good English cuppa. When they’d visited Matt, they’d remembered to pack a large box of PG Tips. And Martin had insisted on them each taking even larger boxes this time. He’d pointed out that the luggage weight allowance was greater for this journey because they were emigrating.
“We’re almost at the border with Lincolnshire,” Colin said a few minutes later. “Want me to stop the car so you can kiss the hallowed turf of Yorkshire one last time?”
“You can kiss my arse.”
Colin flipped on the indicator.
“What are you doing?”
“Pulling over so I can kiss your arse.”
“Idiot.”
Colin turned off the indicator and continued driving.
The music coming out of the in-car stereo pulled Colin out of his silent farewell to his adopted county. He reached over and pressed the track advance button on the CD player. “Enough!”
Martin chuckled. “Thought you liked Wham!”
“They’re all right, but Last Christmas five times in the past hour is enough to…” Colin struggled for the right term. “Turn me into a Jehovah’s Witness.”
Martin’s chuckle grew into a full laugh. “Well, I like Wham! I bet George Michael looks just like you.”
Colin shook his head. They’d had this discussion many times before. Martin pretended to get a crush on a celebrity, insisting whoever it was looked just like Colin.
Martin reached out and fiddled with the CD player’s buttons.
Colin groaned when the familiar thumping intro came out of the speakers.
* * * *
Martin had worried he might not be accepted by the Australian immigration authorities because of his blindness. That had turned out not to be an issue. When Colin revealed a teenage conviction for assault, this had also caused Martin a few sleepless nights. He needn’t have worried however, because Trent, the agent they’d hired to help them get through the convoluted process, had reassured them that as Colin’s conviction had occurred while he was still a minor, it wouldn’t be taken into account.
“Besides,” Trent had said, chuckling, “I reckon being able to hold your own in a fight will be an advantage down under.”
Colin had laughed; Martin had been less certain.
But Trent had been right; Colin’s brush with the law hadn’t posed a problem. Because Colin had a job already lined up, and there was a good prospect of employment for Martin as a medical secretary, the Federal government of Australia plus the officials in New South Wales had passed their application fairly quickly. Though not quickly enough for Colin, who, as always once he’d got an idea in his head, wanted it to happen overnight.
They’d put their house on the market, and despite the depressed state of the economy, within a couple of months someone had put in an offer. It was a couple of thousand pounds lower than the asking price, but Martin—urged on by Colin—accepted the offer.
The final barrier to their plans removed, they arranged for a moving company to take away their belongings, put them into a container, and send it by sea to Australia.
For the past week they’d been reduced to sleeping on air mattresses and sitting on folding camping chairs. Martin thought it uncomfortable, but Colin, big kid that he was, had looked upon it as an exciting adventure.
They’d called the airlines to get prices of flights to Sydney. It was cheaper to leave from Heathrow, so, after speaking with Colin’s parents, they decided to spend their final Christmas in the northern hemisphere with Colin’s family in London. At least, Martin privately conceded, Harry and Avril had proper furniture.
Martin heard Colin turn on the indicator and felt the car slow. He checked his watch. They’d been on the road for less than two hours.
“Anything wrong?” Martin asked.
“Need the loo.”
Martin smiled. “Shouldn’t that be ‘dunny?’”
Colin didn’t say anything. Something was wrong, but on being asked about it, Colin assured Martin he was fine. Martin knew different, but decided to wait his husband out.
Once inside the service station building, Colin guided Martin past the restaurant.
“Disabled loo just up ahead. You still got your key?”
Martin didn’t really need to go, but guessed it might be a while before they’d stop again. He nodded and felt in his pocket for the key that all disabled people were entitled to have. Turned out it wasn’t necessary, as the door wasn’t locked.
“You go first.” Colin’s voice sounded flat.
“Okay.”
Martin did his thing and Colin guided him to the sink to wash his hands. After using the dryer, Colin took Martin’s hands in his and just held on.
“Col?”
“You know I’d never hurt you, right?”
“Huh?” Martin should have expected the question but was momentarily wrong-footed. “I know. What brought that on?” As if he didn’t know.
“I was young, foolish, and easily led. No excuse, but…”
Martin grasped Colin’s biceps. They’d had this conversation. Several times. “You’ve always made me feel safe.”
“It’s just, after Christmas we’ll be heading off to a new country, and—”
“And I know that, at least at the beginning, I’ll be pretty dependent on you. Question is, are you willing to sign on for someone being reliant on you for almost everything?”
“Hell, yes!”
Colin took Martin’s mouth in a savage kiss that robbed Martin of breath.
“That’s settled then,” Martin panted once Colin had let him loose. “You’re stuck with me, Colin Rogers, and I’m—”
“Amazed someone as wonderful as you wants to be stuck with me.”
Martin whacked Colin's’ broad right shoulder.
“Ouch!”
“Not going there, remember?” Martin kissed Colin’s injured shoulder.
Martin remembered the day he and Colin had entered into their civil partnership. He’d insisted the vows be as close to those of a wedding as possible. Martin had promised to love, honour, and cherish Colin for as long as they lived. Martin was determined he would do everything he could to support his husband. And that included giving him a thump when he came out with pessimistic crap about not being good enough.
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other,” Colin said, cupping Martin’s arse and mashing their groins together.
“Uh huh,” Martin said, grinding himself into Colin’s solid bulk. “No more silly talk about you not being good enough or me not feeling safe with you.” Martin ran his hands up Colin’s back, along wide shoulders, and down biceps that, even though they were covered by a leather jacket, bulged with latent power.
“I trust no one more than I do you.” Martin squeezed Colin’s upper arms. “These make me feel safe.” He lifted Colin’s right hand from its resting place on his arse and kissed the swollen knuckles. “And I know you would only use these to protect me.”
“I would.” Colin cleared his throat.
“Hoarse?” Martin asked, kissing Colin’s lips.
“You’re amazing.”
“And speaking of amazing and horse, I can feel something big and hard poking me.”
Colin ground his dick harder into Martin. “I love you,” He said, claiming another kiss, this one gentler.
“Love you, too.” Martin’s trousers had become uncomfortably tight. “Hmm, must be catching.”
The words were barely out of Martin’s mouth before Colin was kneeling on the floor, lowering Martin’s flies.
“Colin!”
They’d had sex in some weird locations, and some quite romantic ones, too. But the inside of a disabled bathroom in a motorway services had to take the biscuit. Though Martin was reminded of the toilets in the shearing shed on Matt’s sheep station. He and Colin would have to pay another vis
it there and finish what they’d started.
“Need this,” Colin said, freeing Martin’s dick and instantly going down on it.
“Oh, God,” Martin groaned, the sound seeming overly loud in the echoey room. Thank goodness this was a separate bathroom and not a wide stall in the regular gent’s toilets.
And the porno-like slurping noises Colin made as he glided up and down the dick in his mouth had Martin doubly glad they were in a somewhat private location. Colin had once said that one reason why he made such loud noises during oral sex was because he knew Martin would appreciate the auditory feedback. Martin had to confess it turned him on, but uppermost in his mind just then were the wonderful feelings Colin’s mouth was generating. And if Colin kept it up, everything would be over way too soon.
“Wanna fuck?” Colin asked, pulling off Martin’s dick and taking a couple of deep breaths.
“We can’t, not in here.”
“No one can see.”
Martin, though very tempted to give in, said, “No, but they’ll be able to hear. You’re not the quietest of lovers.”
“Who cares. We’ll be out of the country in a week.”
Martin swallowed. Colin’s arguments, combined with the hand job he’d started to give, were very persuasive. “My mum told me about men like you.” Was that the right thing to say? Colin was feeling insecure about Martin’s reactions to his displays of strength. “She told me that if you find the right girl—she never knew I was gay—you hold on tight.” Martin grabbed Colin’s hardness through his trousers, “so I’m just following orders.”
Colin laughed, the sound echoing off the tiled walls. “You crazy bugger.”
More quietly, Martin said, “You can be the bugger, I’ll be the buggeree. You shaking your head at me?”
“Who, me? Absolutely not,” Colin chuckled. “You’ll have to disobey your mum for a minute and let go of my tackle till I can open my zip.”
With reluctance, Martin released Colin.
“How do you want me?” Martin asked, feeling for and finding Colin’s now exposed dick.
“As often as possible.”
Martin rolled his eyes. Or at least he hoped that was what he was doing.
“There’s a baby changing table over there. Gonna sit you on it and—”
“Colin! I’d break it.”
“So? We’re leaving the country, remember?”
“Hooligan.” Martin knew he’d said the wrong thing the second the word had passed his lips. “Col, I—”
“It’s okay.” But from the quietness of Colin’s voice, Martin knew different.
Martin cupped Colin’s face. “I didn’t mean it. Not like that.”
Colin’s arms came around Martin and pulled him close. Nuzzling his neck, Colin whispered, “I know.”
They spent a couple of moments of silent communication, Martin listening to Colin’s slow, steady breaths, his own more rapid and uneven. Unconsciously, Martin began to run his fingers through Colin’s shoulder-length hair. He loved Colin’s long hair. It was silky, smooth, straight, and just so soft. Martin knew factually the hair was brown, as were Colin’s eyes, but as he’d been born blind, the colour meant nothing to him.
Colin had suggested that, with the hotter climate in Australia, and because he’d be working outside, he’d probably cut his hair short, might even shave it. This had resulted in an argument, Martin insisting Colin leave his hair just as it was, Colin countering it would be too unmanageable in the heat. Martin had pointed out that Bruce, Matt’s lover, had long hair and seemed to manage just fine. So Colin had agreed to wait and see how he felt.
Martin combed his fingers through the thick strands, from the crown of Colin’s head down to the man’s shoulders, hoping he’d be able to do this for many years to come.
“Besides,” Colin said, breaking the long silence, “getting arrested in a toilet would make me just like George Michael.”
Martin shook his head. He wished he hadn’t started that comparison. Colin was so much better, more responsible, more—
Colin started to sing the chorus from Wham’s Bad Boys, but it was obvious after a few bars that he didn’t know the words. Maybe George Michael had it on Colin where singing was concerned.
“Don’t think this is getting you out of it,” Colin growled, dancing Martin across the floor as he continued to hum the tune off key.
“Out of what?” Martin asked, trying not to step on Colin’s feet.
“Me fucking you on the baby changing table.”
Despite himself, Martin smiled. “You’re such a romantic.” Though maybe there was something romantic about waltzing to a pop song in a disabled toilet.
They came to a stop and kissed, Martin feeling Colin’s smile against his lips.
“And just to show you what a hooligan I am, I’ll spray paint, ‘Col loves Mart’ on the toilet wall before we leave.”
Martin laughed. “You don’t have any spray paint.”
Colin kissed him. “Have to improvise then. I’ll use cum.”
Martin smiled and shook his head. “We’d need a lot to write all that.” He groaned when Colin started to lick down his neck.
“Plan on fucking at least two loads out of you,” Colin grunted before biting at Martin’s shoulder through the man’s jumper and T-shirt.
“Animal.”
“Yep,” Colin confirmed, steering Martin backward. “Hop up.” He took Martin’s hand and placed it on a cool, plastic-coated flat surface.
Martin did as asked, though feared the table would soon deposit him on the floor. He was confident however that Colin would hold him up should that happen.
“Didn’t bring any lube.”
“I did,” Colin said, Martin hearing the rustling of fabric. That was his man, always prepared.
Then came fingers, deftly unbuckling and unzipping. “Lift up, need to get these down.
Martin lifted his bottom and Colin pulled his jeans and underpants down. Thankfully the bench had warmed up a little when he rested his now naked arse on the padding.
Colin said he thought they might get away with leaving Martin’s shoes on, but he soon realised Martin couldn’t widen his legs enough so Martin had to strip completely from the waist downward.
“Feel kinda exposed.”
“You look great,” Colin said, rubbing Martin’s thighs.
Easy for you to say, Martin thought, you’re not the one who’ll get caught with his trousers off if we get busted. But the chance, albeit remote, of being discovered was surprisingly thrilling.
Martin knew they only had time for a quickie, and truthfully the room wasn’t overly warm. He jumped when cool, slick fingers started to play with his balls. Martin leaned back against the wall to allow Colin access to his arse.
“You okay?” Colin asked, pausing his explorations.
“Fine, just the lube’s cold.”
“Yeah, sorry. But it’ll soon warm up.”
Martin was so used to being stretched it only took Colin a couple of minutes to accomplish the task. Martin used the time to slide his hands under Colin’s jacket to feel along the man’s wide chest and broad shoulders. He never tired at exploring Colin’s impressive physique. No, there was no way on this earth that Colin would ever hurt him. Martin was never surer of anything.
“Ready?” Colin asked before pulling out his fingers.
Martin nodded.
Colin moved forward and Martin felt the blunt, warm probe of Colin’s dick at his opening.
Someone tried the door handle. Colin froze and Martin bit his lip. Colin had remembered to lock the door after them, hadn’t he? The door rattled, Martin heard a muffled voice, then retreating footsteps. He let out a breath.
“Sorry,” Colin whispered.
Kissing Colin, Martin said, “No worries, mate.”
Colin smiled against Martin’s lips. “The accent still needs work.”
“Screw me like a dingo shagging a sheep,” Martin replied, making Colin laugh. Martin had to admit
, it was a ridiculous scenario, but the best he could come up with at such short notice.
The changing table must have been bolted to the floor because no matter how hard Colin thrust, the platform didn’t budge. Martin gripped the edges and widened his legs to give Colin the best access. When Colin started to grunt, Martin pulled the man’s head down to muffle the sounds with kisses. Their almost discovery, though scary at the time, really seemed to inspire Colin, who was working extra-hard to get them both off.
When Martin used a hand to stimulate his dick, Colin growled, “Mine!” and took over the hand job. A good thing, because Colin stepped up a gear and Martin needed both hands to hold on.
“God, Col!” Martin grunted quietly, or at least as quietly as he could manage with a huge, hard dick quickly pistoning in and out of his arse.
“So tight,” Colin grunted.
Martin squeezed his anal muscles, eliciting a louder grunt from his lover.
“Shush,” Martin urged.
“Don’t care. Love you.”
“Close,” Martin gasped about a minute later.
“Me, too.”
Although they liked to climax together, it didn’t often happen, but it seemed as though Colin wanted it to happen this time.
Another rattle of the door handle, but Colin was too focussed on his task probably to even notice.
“Yes!” Martin said, uncaring who heard.
“God, Mart!” Colin stifled his yell as he stiffened in place.
Martin felt Colin’s dick expanding inside of him while imagining himself being pumped full of creamy white Colin juice. But he was unable to contemplate that for long because within a couple of seconds his own orgasm overtook him. His body tingled and his mind filled with swirling sensations, almost taking Martin outside of his body.
“You okay?” Colin said through the ringing in Martin’s ears.
Martin tried to speak, found he couldn’t, so cleared his throat and tried again. “Ask me in a few minutes. I’m still floating.”
