by M. J. O'Shea
“I’m going to kill him,” he muttered.
“Is it really going that badly?”
“Probably not. His last message sounded pretty dire, and he wants me there immediately, of course, but I doubt it’s the disaster that he’s claiming it to be.”
“Do you have to go?”
“I should. But I’m going to make him wait a little longer because he pissed me off.”
Christopher winked. “Hmm. What do you think we should do while we wait?”
“You’re so corny.”
August pulled him into a laughing kiss.
Chapter Eight
WHAT’S your flat number? xx
August woke up to the buzzing of his phone and a single text. From Christopher of course. The sun was bright in his room, and it looked like a gorgeous day. August wasn’t sure if he cared. His bed was the best place on earth.
Why should I tell you that? You’re probably stalking me.
August grinned to himself and tried not to be too pleased with his sass.
You’re a saucy one on Saturday mornings.
You’d be saucy too if you had your first complete weekend off since Christmas and some wanker woke you up with a text at nine.
Would it help if the wanker had breakfast and coffee and was pacing in front of your building trying to get the courage to ask if he can come up?
August sat up in bed.
You’re here?
I will be if the saucy one would tell me his flat number.
FIVE minutes later Christopher showed up at his door with Fergus in tow and a large bag that smelled heavenly. In his other hand, he had a carrier with two lattes.
“What are you doing here?” August asked.
“I was just in the neighborhood, and you know….” Christopher winked at him.
“You’re such a bad liar. But I’ll take breakfast for sure.” August felt awkward in his pajamas when Christopher looked like the cover of a Burberry catalog as usual. “How about breakfast in bed. Fergus can definitely come with us.”
“You’re asking me into your bed?” Christopher asked.
“For breakfast purposes. And maybe dessert purposes as well.”
“I’m hoping dessert doesn’t mean coffee.”
“Well, it definitely will mean coffee if you keep all those clothes on. I assume you have boxers under there and a T-shirt.”
“I do.” Christopher’s smile turned into a grin.
“Good.”
AUGUST hadn’t done breakfast in bed in a very long time. He’d dated a chef for about ten minutes a couple of years back, and that had been one of his big seduction techniques back then. Before that, it had been him and Christopher in bed on the weekends with textbooks and strong coffee and kisses. This felt a whole lot like that. Especially when they laughed when Fergus stole an entire croissant, or when August finished eating and cuddled up against Christopher. He ran his hand up under Christopher’s soft, thin T-shirt.
The sun rose a little higher in the sky, and his room was bright and warm but breezy from the open windows. He could smell the bakery across the street baking, Christopher was stroking his back slowly, and Fergus was asleep at the foot of his bed. It was so comfortable. That feeling they’d lost along the way and August had been searching for—it was back, like it had never been missing.
“This feels really good,” August said.
“It feels like coming home after I’ve been gone for years.” Christopher tightened his arms. “That was seriously cheesy. But I don’t know how to not think those kinds of things about you. You’re home to me. I don’t feel like myself if I’m not with you.”
“We’ve been apart an awful long time, Mister. What were you doing all those years?”
“It felt kind of like I was putting on a show. I don’t know how else to explain it. It was like I was someone else on top, and it was all masks and makeup and nobody could tell that I didn’t feel or think any of it.”
“Why do you do it?”
“I guess it’s what was expected of me. Like we talked about last weekend. When we were in school, I felt so free. The people were there, but I mostly ignored them. My parents were off in their universe, disapproving of me from afar, and I could just do whatever I wanted.”
“And this feels like that again? Even if you can’t do whatever you want?”
“I can, though. When I’m with you I can be myself. I don’t have to put on a show. I can breathe.”
“Fergus likes this version of you.”
Fergus had been snoring happily for at least a half an hour.
“I like this version of me too. I kind of want the other one to disappear.”
“But you can’t, really.”
“No. Not entirely. Those people are everywhere I go.”
“Maybe you’re going the wrong places,” August murmured.
“This is getting awfully serious. Why are we wasting good sheets talking about boring things?” Christopher asked.
“I don’t know. I think you should probably kiss me instead. But don’t wake up Fergus. It’s a little creepy when the dog can see.”
Christopher laughed and gathered August close for a kiss. August slid his hands under Christopher’s shirt again, slung his thigh over Christopher’s hips, and tried not to think about how happy he was.
“Can we take these off?” Christopher asked. He tugged on August’s shirt.
“Yeah.” August didn’t even feel a moment of hesitation. He dragged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Christopher did the same before they found their previous position again.
“Jesus, I’ve missed this.” Christopher’s sigh seemed like it came from the bottom of his soul. “When I… I just could never. I don’t know how it happened.”
“You’re gonna have to speak more English than that, Mr. Burke.” The name should’ve been formal, but it wasn’t somehow. Mr. Burke and Mr. O’Leary had been saved for soft moments, when it was just them.
“You….” Christopher looked at him wide-eyed.
August smiled. He leaned his head up and kissed Christopher. It had slipped out so easily. He hadn’t even thought about it. “What were you trying to say?”
Christopher looked like he didn’t want to talk. “I tried to find another you at first,” he said quietly. “Not for very long, because I realized pretty quickly that it wasn’t ever going to happen, but I tried. And it never felt right anywhere, but the worst thing was the way they didn’t fit in my arms. Not like you do. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“I know what you mean. It feels different. I tried too. Not at first, but after a little while. I never even came close.” August gulped, but he raised his face off Christopher’s chest and looked at him. “I love you,” he murmured.
Christopher cupped his jaw and gave him a long, serious kiss. “I love you too. Fuck. So much.”
They grinned at each other until Fergus stretched and whined, and they ended up getting dressed to take him for a walk.
AUGUST was in the middle of a price debate on the office line with one of their most used venues a few days later when his cell phone buzzed with a message from Christopher.
I can’t stop thinking about kissing you
August got a little shiver, but then he put the phone on his desk. He needed to concentrate. He had real work to do.
I wish we were back in bed like we were last weekend. I wanted to touch you so bad. Take off your thin little bottoms and lick you all over.
August choked.
“Are you okay?” the woman on the other end of the line asked.
“Oh, um, yes. I’m fine. I coughed on a sip of water.”
Christopher….
August thought Christopher was done, but then his phone buzzed again as he was hanging up from the call.
I wanna get my hands all over you, just like I used to. Taste you. Get my fingers inside you. Nothing feels as good as your skin.
He seriously couldn’t handle any more of thi
s shit if he was going to get a single thing done that afternoon.
Bugger off you ho ;) I’m trying to get work done here
I can help you work it….
August laughed out loud at that one.
;) he texted in return.
But seriously. Can I cook you dinner tonight? Bring Will and Louise if you want. I’d love to get to know them, and I want Will to stop glaring at me.
August chuckled. Good luck with that. He called down the hallway to where Will and Louise were working. “You guys want to go to Christopher’s for dinner? He said he wants to get to know you.”
There was a stampede of feet down the hallway, and then two curious faces poked into his office.
“You want us to go to dinner at Christopher’s house?” Will asked. “Is that a good idea?”
“Yes. I want you guys to actually talk to him. He’s not the horrible beast you imagine.”
“I can do that. I’m not promising I’ll like him, but I’ll take him up on dinner. Lou?”
Louise nodded. “Like I’m going to turn down dinner in a Chelsea mansion. Not exactly something that’s offered on a daily basis.”
“It’s just Christopher, guys. You’ve both met him more than once.”
“Right. Just Christopher. That’s exactly what you were saying the first time he walked into this office.”
“That’s different.” He raised his eyebrows at them until they both decided they had very important things to do in other rooms.
Will and Louise would love to join us for dinner. I promise there will be no glaring.
August felt very grown up and very much part of a couple inviting his friends over to his boyfriend’s house for dinner. He hoped it worked, because he definitely liked the feeling.
Anything they don’t like? Wouldn’t want to start off on the wrong foot.
As long as you’re not talking anything super weird then nope!
AUGUST, Will, and Louise showed up at seven sharp for dinner. Will and Louise had been gaping at Christopher’s house ever since they turned down his street and were told for the third time that yes, Christopher did live on that street, and yes, they were going to be going into his house.
“I never thought I’d be in one of these houses unless I bought a ticket to tour one of them,” Louise said. “They have to be listed.”
“I’m sure they are.” It was all very impressive and everything, but August had been spending so much time around Christopher it was starting to feel normal. All of a sudden, he understood the whole dropping a grand on a blanket and thinking it was no big deal thing.
Christopher told August to bring them to the front door rather than the kitchen door so he could give them a short tour before they ate. August rang the bell. Christopher’s housekeeper, who he’d met once or twice, opened the door with a smile.
“Hello, August.”
“Hi, Mrs. Potter.”
“Is her name seriously Mrs. Potter?” August heard Louise whisper. He elbowed her.
“This is Will and Louise. Christopher is expecting us.”
“I’m here, I’m here.” He bounded down the stairs, shoeless, with Fergus trailing behind him.
“Fergus!” Louise exclaimed. The dog heard his name and ran to her for scratches.
“Well, that settles her,” August said. “She’ll be with him the whole night.”
“I can’t help it if he’s adorable.”
Christopher laughed. “Come in. It’s wet out there, and I have pizzas in the oven.”
“Pizza? I expected something a lot fussier than that,” Will said.
“Please. I’m a country boy at heart. But one of the pizzas does have truffle oil on it, if that ticks the fussy box off well enough for you.”
Will smiled. “It’ll do.”
THEY toured the house and took a quick peek at the garden before trailing down to the kitchen level, the part of the house that August called the Slytherin room.
“I spend a lot of time down here,” Christopher told them. “Me and Fergus hang out and watch films and cook and read. It’s the coziest room in the house other than my library and bedroom.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Louise said. “Your entire house is.”
“Thanks,” Christopher said.
The four of them sat around his kitchen table this time—not quite the romantic picnic that his dinner alone with Christopher had been, but still cozy. Christopher’s pizzas were delicious, and the wine helped everyone get along. Christopher slowly won over Will with his trademark sarcasm, that typically remained hidden until he was very comfortable with someone, and how much he obviously adored August. It was a little embarrassing at first, being loved on so much in front of his friends, but by the time they left him there with Christopher, August felt like he was literally glowing, like they could turn the lights off and he would be able to illuminate the room.
“That was fun,” Christopher said after Will and Louise were gone. “You think they liked me?”
“Yes, of course. You were perfect.”
“Good. You want to watch a film for a while?” Christopher asked.
August didn’t, really, but he supposed putting one on in the background and barely paying attention to it was dating protocol.
“I think I could do that.”
“Then come this way,” Christopher said with a sly grin. Apparently he had the exact same plan.
THEY didn’t last long before the movie was completely forgotten and they were lying flat out on the sofa with their shirts off and their jeans unbuttoned. August couldn’t get enough of Christopher’s kisses; he wanted his hands everywhere. He thought of Christopher’s texts earlier, about getting his fingers inside, and he ground his hips hard against Christopher’s growing erection.
“You wanna go upstairs?” Christopher asked. “I wouldn’t want to shock poor Mrs. Potter in the morning when she gets here.”
“Yeah. Let’s go upstairs.”
They reached down and picked up their shirts. Then August let Christopher lead him up two stories to his master suite. They kissed against the wall on the stairs, and August got his hands down the back of Christopher’s pants. It was a miracle they made it to the top landing. August hadn’t been up there yet, and he was excited to see if Christopher’s room lived up to his expectations.
It did. More than.
The room was the size of August’s entire flat. Probably bigger, to be honest. It was sexy and masculine, done up in dark wood paneling and intricate rugs. His bed was huge and covered with a big fluffy white duvet. The whole thing was incredible in a Victorian romance novel kind of way. Kind of made him want to get ravaged.
Christopher pulled him toward the bed. “C’mon. I need you up here.”
He manhandled August onto the bed, and August shimmied back on the soft puff of down. Christopher pulled at his jeans and briefs, and August lifted his hips. He was so far beyond shy, so into it that he barely noticed the cool night air hitting his skin.
“Your body,” Christopher groaned. “So gorgeous for me.”
He reached out and ran his palm lightly down August’s chest, over his hips, his cock, his belly. It was like he was rememorizing something he’d almost forgotten.
“I can’t believe I get to touch you again.”
“Christopher,” August moaned. Christopher still had on his jeans and briefs, and August needed naked skin. They’d always been so good together, so beautiful. He wanted to see if he could feel it again.
Christopher slid his jeans and briefs down and stepped out of them. August gulped. He remembered how thick and perfect Christopher felt, how smooth his belly was, how he used his hands and arms and legs and mouth to make August lose his mind.
“I need you,” August murmured. He barely recognized his own voice. It was breathy and soft. He whined in the back of his throat.
It worked, though, because Christopher climbed onto the bed and crawled on top of him.
“I never want to touch anyone else like this,
” Christopher said. “Only you. We belong to each other.”
“Yes,” August whispered. He lifted his leg and curled it around Christopher’s hips.
They ground together, breathed into each other’s mouths, kissed smiles onto tacky, sweaty skin, and wound their fingers tight.
Christopher laughed quietly.
“What?” August asked.
“I want to touch you, but I don’t want to let go of your hand,” he said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” August told him. “Touch me. I want to feel your fingers like you said earlier.”
“You want them inside?”
“Yes. Please.”
It hadn’t even been on the menu until Christopher had texted earlier, but after that, August hadn’t been able to forget about it. He needed the pressure and the stretch. He needed to feel Christopher like that again. He’d always loved having Christopher’s fingers in him. It was one of the things he’d missed the most when he was lying in bed alone right after they’d broken up.
“Hold on, baby.”
August’s breath hitched. Christopher had always called him “baby” when they were in bed. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to relax. He was getting too excited. He’d never last.
Christopher came back with a bottle and a few condoms. August raised his eyebrow, and Christopher chuckled. “Just wanted to be prepared. I’m not leaving this bed until one of us passes out.”
