The Third Date (Starting Over)

by Matthew J. Metzger

  “Stop,” Aled murmured as he transferred his mouth from one thigh to the other, “fussing.”

  Gabriel shuddered as he bit down, then Aled chased the sweetness and reduced all resistance to nothing, holding Gabriel’s hips fast when they began to move, holding him down as the shivering began to increase and latching on to suck him through the sudden crash of his climax, pulling on burning flesh even as its nerves exploded.

  “There,” Aled crooned, crawling back over Gabriel’s lower half to plant a wet kiss on his breastbone. “I told you you’d enjoy it.”

  “Please—please just go, let me go, just—”

  “I enjoyed it too,” Aled murmured, tracking his lips up Gabriel’s ribs and slowly beginning to push. The head of his cock breached that wetness slowly, and he felt Gabriel bear down and resist. “That’s the problem with you, beautiful.” He pushed harder, forcing his way into the tight, slick heat, like warm, wet silk. “You’re too beautiful. Watching you come undone—fuck, gets me going, and that’s why things end up not fair. I’ve given you dinner and a climax for free now. So where does that leave me?”

  He began to thrust, deep, ploughing thrusts that shook the bed and had Gabriel wrenching at the tie. Aled usually preferred the short, sharp method, but with Gabriel spread out and used below him, he pushed himself up on his arms and fucked, watching with rapt pleasure as the motion rippled up that lithe body, as the punishing rhythm forced him to simply accept it, as Aled’s own drive for release simply took Gabriel as a thing to be used, something to fuck into and catch the mess, no more than a tissue—

  When his muscles seized and his blood boiled, Aled grabbed for those narrow hips and pulled, hard enough that Gabriel let out a muted sob and Aled came, flooding the silk with heat, spilling onto the sheet when he finally pulled out and leaking around his fingers when he pushed two roughly in, and began to massage.

  “It’s just how I get,” he panted, like he’d never paused to fuck in the first place. “Your freshly-fucked look is a turn-on and I can’t help it. Don’t worry, though,” he added, beginning to rub at Gabriel’s abused flesh with his other hand, cupping him between Aled’s wrists. “We’ll break even. Just let me get it up again, and we’ll be done here.”

  “No,” Gabriel whispered, his voice raw. “Please, stop it, just stop it, please—”

  Aled sighed, shifting up the bed—one hand still buried in Gabriel’s pliant body—and covered that red mouth with the other. “Ssh,” he crooned, biting at Gabriel’s neck and feeling him shiver. “It’s better if you don’t lie, you know. We both know you’re lying.”

  Gabriel whined, straining against Aled’s hands, but Aled wouldn’t let go. It was exactly what they both needed. Coercion, force, the thrill of a threat for Gabriel—and gentle enough for Aled that the worst would be a pair of bruised wrists.

  That hot body wriggling under his was like a drug, and it didn’t take long before Aled was hard again. He taunted Gabriel, rubbing him off only to pinch him and deny the climax at the last second, until his own cock was ready to sink back into that tight, wet heat. Gabriel cried. Aled kissed the complaint away and began to fuck him for the second time.

  This time, it wasn’t a plundering. He barely moved at all. Just twitched his hips every so often to feel Gabriel’s thighs shudder against him. Better was the wet heat that squeezed his cock. Better were the breathless whimpers against his mouth. Better was the breast that he massaged in one hand, and the sobs when he bit into that sensitive neck. Better was the shudder with every touch, every movement, every murmur.

  His second orgasm was a lazy, understated pleasure. He lay idle for a few minutes after, kissing the bruises he’d left on Gabriel’s neck, before reaching up to undo his hands.

  “I better get to work. I look forward to our next date.”

  Gabriel closed his eyes when Aled pulled out, and turned his face away from the kiss. Aled forced it on him anyway, before smoothing his hair and whispering the game-over signal. The next kiss was relaxed and willing, then Gabriel motioned for the pillows to bracket his head and shoulders.

  “You okay?”

  “More’n okay,” he murmured. “G’wan. Go to work. F’k me again when you get home.”

  Aled laughed, patting a naked hip before heading for the wardrobe.

  “You going to go back to sleep?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “I’ll let Chris know so he doesn’t worry.”

  “Thanks.”

  He had dozed off before Aled was dressed, and Aled kissed his hair before tugging the sheets over him and leaving him to nap in his nest.

  For the first time in months, he set off for work in a good mood.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Okay,” Chris said. “How do you want to do this?”

  It was Tuesday. Gabriel had spent the whole day texting back and forth with Kevin, another of his partners, and had finally decided that he was going to have dinner at Kevin’s house.

  Only problem was, Kevin couldn’t come and pick him up.

  And Gabriel’s vertigo had eased enough for carefully walking around the house, stairs and showers excepting…but that mercy hadn’t extended to cars yet.

  “I need to lie down,” Gabriel said.

  “Okay.”

  “Can I put my head in your lap?”

  “Want a pillow bracket?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  Aled, listening by the door, nodded and headed up the stairs. Chris plucked the car keys out of the bowl and opened the front door.

  “Back or on your side?”

  “Back.”

  Chris was more than a little jealous of Aled’s car. He always had the latest Range Rover, and the machine gleaming on the drive couldn’t have been more than four months old. The high ride was a huge help for getting wobbly people in and out, and easing Gabriel down onto the back seat wasn’t as awkward as it would have been in a normal car.

  “Hey,” Chris whispered in Gabriel’s ear, stroking the shell to distract him from the nausea. “Reckon Aled will let me drive this one day?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not ever?”

  “Not ever. He once beat my arse until it bled for just sitting on the paintwork.”

  Chris grumbled, shutting up when Aled arrived with the pillow.

  “Okay, lift up.”

  Gabriel’s throat bobbed as Chris slid into the seat, but he kept the vomit down. Chris fluffed the pillow on his lap, then eased Gabriel down until his head was dead centre and Chris could fold up the pillow edges to bracket his skull as though he were carrying a very fragile egg.

  “Better?”

  “Mm.”

  Wedging his right arm around the pillow to maintain the bracket between his hand and his belly, Chris reached out and laid his other hand on Gabriel’s stomach, stroking the twitching muscles until they relaxed.

  “There you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So you going to spend the night at Kevin’s?”

  “Probably not,” Gabriel said, wincing as Aled got into the front seat.

  “Do you mind asking him if you can?” Aled asked. “Thinking Chris and I might as well go on a date of our own. Tacos and beer are calling my name.”

  “Oh my God, I do not want to be in your bed once you’ve had tacos,” Gabriel said. “Okay. I’ll ask.”

  He closed his eyes again once Aled started the car, and Chris stroked his hair in perfectly timed passes until they reached the motorway junction and the road smoothed out again. He didn’t enjoy seeing Gabriel suffering, but he had to admit that riding with Gabriel’s head in his lap was kind of nice.

  And it was taking his mind off Kevin.

  Chris had never so much as seen a picture of Kevin. The only thing he knew was that if Aled was the dominant who played dangerous games, Kevin was a complete sadist. Gabriel had largely refused to go into detail, merely saying that Kevin was ‘Aled’s sex on steroids.’ Aled was a coercive fuck. Kevin
was outright violent.

  Chris was nervous, to say the least.

  He didn’t know much about Kevin sexually, but he knew plenty in other areas. He was the only partner Gabriel had who could exert control outside of sex—if Gabriel dropped out of contact for more than twenty-four hours, Kevin would start sniffing around to find him. If Gabriel drank alcohol, Kevin would take him and—something would happen to fix it, that Gabriel again hadn’t told Chris much about. Kevin had a wife and a bunch of small kids, but Gabriel was regarded as extended family. He lived with Aled, but there was always another door open to him.

  In a way, Chris supposed that he had very little to be nervous about. Kevin seemed more inclined to interfere than Aled, and part of Chris thought that Kevin would have showed up and kneecapped him if he didn’t measure up already. The other part simply pointed out that Bristol was a long way from Leeds, and now here he was, fully moved into Kevin’s territory.

  Gabriel wasn’t the only one feeling queasy.

  It turned out that Kevin didn’t live too far away. In no time at all, Aled was pulling up in a small street of tidy houses with identical front doors, coasting to a stop outside one with a work van parked on the drive and a pink scooter abandoned on the front lawn. Chris heard boots crunching on gravel, then the door by Gabriel’s feet opened, and Chris’ heart stopped beating.

  Kevin was huge.

  A black bodybuilder grinned in at them, a gold tooth flashing from the middle of a face framed by long dreadlocks. He was well over six feet tall, and his shoulders seemed six feet wide too. He could have bench-pressed a bus. A hand the size of a shovel squeezed Gabriel’s ankle, and it honestly looked absurd. He could have snapped Gabriel’s shin clean in two if he just held on a little harder.

  “You must be Chris,” he boomed.

  “Uh. Yeah.”

  “Nice to meet you, man.”

  The handshake nearly ripped his arm off, then Kevin patted Gabriel’s knees.

  “You up to a walk, or you need to be carried?”

  “I can walk.”

  “No he can’t,” Chris said. “He was nearly sick twice.”

  “Fuck off,” Gabriel snarled, but Kevin just chuckled.

  “I like you. He can keep you.”

  “Can keep who I fucking want,” Gabriel groused, but allowed himself to be dragged along the seat to the door. He looped both arms around Kevin’s neck, and Kevin simply backed out and straightened as if Gabriel weighed nothing more than a bag of flour, carrying him like a kid.

  “Bring my pillow!” Gabriel hollered.

  Chris let himself out when Aled did, figuring it’d be weirder to stay if they were all going inside. The house was warm and bright. Thick carpets and plain walls were livened up by the framed photos everywhere. A formal family photo showed Kevin posing with a pretty white woman and a hoard of small mixed-race children. He could smell baking and hear cartoons playing beyond a closed door. A baby was whining, probably ready to go into a full meltdown. But they followed Kevin into a cosy living room littered with toys, where Gabriel was laid out on a white leather sofa that, despite the mayhem, was inexplicably clean.

  “Tea?” Kevin asked.

  “We’re going to get going,” Aled said, stooping to kiss Gabriel’s forehead. “Can he stay the night? We were thinking of tacos and tequila.”

  “Sure thing,” Kevin said. “We can put him up in the spare room, and I can drop him home in the morning. Not working for once.”

  “Judith put her foot down?”

  Kevin pulled a face. Chris presumed it meant yes.

  “See you later,” Aled said. “Call if you need anything.”

  Gabriel gave a thumbs up. Chris bent for his own quick kiss, then followed Aled back out of the door and to the car. He sagged into the front passenger seat and took a long, deep breath. The relief made him shake, and he slid his hands under his thighs to hold them still.

  “What’s that for?” Aled asked.

  “I’ve never met Kevin before.”

  “Oh, he’s harmless.”

  “Like hell he is.”

  Aled laughed. “Okay, fine, he could commit murder with one hand. But he’s harmless as long as you treat Gabriel right.”

  “What happens if you don’t?”

  “He smashes you up,” Aled said. “Between you and me and the fact the restraining order actually worked on Gabriel’s stalker ex, I’m not totally convinced Kevin didn’t just up and murder him.”

  Chris whistled. “Uh. Good to know.”

  “Don’t worry about it. If you still have both legs unbroken, Kevin’s cool with you. So. Tacos? Have a night off from your dumb diet?”

  “If it’s trash food you want, then at least extend to a curry.”

  “Deal. I know a good curry house.”

  “Okay. And no tequila.”

  “Beer?”

  “Beer.”

  The curry house that Aled had in mind turned out to be a takeaway out on the outskirts of Wakefield town centre. Chris had a soft spot for rogan josh, and if they couldn’t really agree on comedians, they could at least agree on the importance of poppadums to go with a dirty curry. One pit stop at Asda for a crate of cheap lager later, and they were on their way home.

  Chris had taken Aled for a wine drinker and the type to insist on plates and cutlery, but was proven wrong. They put their feet up on the coffee table, cartons in laps, and cracked open the first lagers to the theme tune of a late-night comedy show.

  “So tell me,” Aled said as the contestants were introduced. “You and Gabriel. You in love with him?”

  Chris blinked. “Well, yeah.”

  “Is he your first poly boyfriend?”

  “He’s my first boyfriend at all.”

  “Really? What about girlfriends?”

  “Nope. Never been interested. In girls, that is. Had a few…there were a few men I would have liked to date along the way, and a guy I was sort of with for a little while—though I wouldn’t have called him my boyfriend—but…well, you try finding a boyfriend who’ll understand that dick’s disgusting.”

  “No thanks. I don’t understand that. Dick’s great.”

  Chris just flipped him off.

  “So you’re…what, gay without the sex?”

  “I guess.”

  “Is there a word for that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He’d never really looked into it too hard. He’d tried going online a few times after Gabriel had first suggested he was asexual, but it was a hot mess of confusing words. Chris had barely finished school. He didn’t have the first clue what anyone was talking about with romantic orientations and three-foot-long words like autochorisexual or aromanticism. He had no idea what a lithromantic was supposed to be. The jumble of terms was scary, and felt like…well, like he was pretending. It felt horribly like he was faking it. He worked in a bike shop and couldn’t spell bicycle. What right did he have to go around spouting Scrabble winners like autochorisexual?

  “You ever think sometimes you’re too dumb to be queer?” he blurted out.

  “You what?”

  “I tried looking it up. If there’s like…gay aces. Or whatever. And it’s—” He waved a hand vaguely. “There’s so many terms and they’re all massive and complicated and they have these weird definitions that I don’t understand. Only there’s whole forums of people like ‘oh yeah, this is me, this is totally me.’ And I don’t even get what they’re talking about. I feel too stupid, so…so I just avoid it and I try not to think about it.”

  Aled grunted. “I don’t know. I missed out on the internet as a kid. I was in university before we got a home computer. I like men and women, so I’m bisexual. That’s about as complicated as I ever got.”

  “Gabriel suggested I was asexual so I looked it up. And some stuff I found says it fits. But then it was all what type of asexual, and was I—I don’t know. Greyromantic or sex-neutral or all this other stuff I didn’t understand.”

  He’d felt stupid
. He hadn’t even dared ask questions. Chris might be thick, but he didn’t feel like being yelled at by angry teenagers for not getting it.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Aled said. “I doubt Gabriel’s got a degree in queer studies either.”

  “He knew about asexual.”

  “Probably just means he’s banged someone who’s asexual before,” Aled said. “I wouldn’t worry about what to call yourself. If you’re happy in your relationship, then that’s enough, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know,” Chris admitted. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only man like me in the world, and it’s fucking lonely. I’d like to think there’s other guys out there like this.”

  “Seven billion people, there’s bound to be.”

  “Yeah. In theory.”

  He knew he was being maudlin, but he couldn’t help it. He’d spent years wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Aled’s casual attitude wasn’t something that Chris could really relate to.

  “Look at it this way,” Aled said. “You’re kind of uptight about whether your sex life is normal, but there’s going to be people out there who are freaking out because they’re in a poly relationship and isn’t that just called cheating?”

  It brought Chris up short.

  “I mean, I know you were twitchy that I might not be as chill with it as you two are, but you never went, ‘Well, better not get with this guy, he’s just cheating on his boyfriend.’”

  “Because…he’s not.”

  “’Course he’s not. But some people don’t get that and wig out,” Aled pointed out. “Like you thought I might.”

  “Huh.”

  He had a point. Chris had been worried that Aled wasn’t as relaxed as Gabriel made him out to be, but he’d never turned it around and asked himself if he was okay with Gabriel having other boyfriends. Because why ask? He just was. It didn’t make a difference to him.

  “I kind of like it.”

  “Polyamory?”

  “Yeah. I mean, for him. I’m not really interested in having more relationships. But I—I know he loves me too, and…come on. Can you really see Gabriel being happy with so little sex in his life?”