The Third Date (Starting Over)

by Matthew J. Metzger

  “Kevin really did a number on you, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Not like you to let either of us get away with bloodplay.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Don’t get used to it. Hurts like a bitch.”

  “Fair enough,” Aled said. He stuck the last plaster into place and kissed the soft flutter of skin by Gabriel’s breastbone, disturbed by the calm beating of his heart. “Feeling better after being used and abused, though?”

  “Yeah. Feel more normal.”

  Aled pulled a face. “Only you would consider having your breasts ripped up normal.”

  “Yeah, well, you enjoyed it too.”

  “I did.” He kissed the soft spot under Gabriel’s ear. “I suppose there’s a positive side to this dependency.”

  “What’s that?”

  He stepped back and folded his arms over his chest. “What are you going to give me not to just put you back in bed and lock the door?”

  Gabriel laughed, but looped his arms around Aled’s neck and nuzzled his cheek.

  “Red,” he said. “I’m too hungry for playing games right now. Maybe after breakfast.”

  “Okay. Breakfast in bed. Eggs on toast?”

  “Poached. Please.”

  After the heat of the shower, Gabriel was much shakier on his feet than before, but Aled got him back to bed without too much trouble and left him to find a TV channel that he liked. By the time he returned with freshly poached eggs on whole-wheat toast—all the white bread had mysteriously vanished since Chris had moved in—Gabriel was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, wearing absolutely nothing, and watching some Gordon Ramsay reruns.

  “Stay with me,” he said, patting the sheets. “Is Chris on his run?”

  “It’s nearly lunchtime.”

  “It’s never!”

  “It is,” Aled said. “He trod in some dog crap, so he’s swearing to himself in the kitchen trying to clean his shoes. It’s a bit intimidating.”

  “What, Chris?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s a pansy.”

  “He’s got a penknife to the soles of those things and I fear for my balls,” Aled said flatly.

  “Whatever.”

  “Want me to go and film it?”

  “If he’s that scary, you wouldn’t dare.”

  Aled pulled a face but conceded the point. He stole the remote back to find something decent on the telly and settled in to play with Gabriel’s hair and watch their feet tangled up together at the bottom of the bed. If anything gave Gabriel’s gender history away when he was fully clothed, it was his feet. Small. Delicate. Dainty arches. He’d look stunning in a pair of heels, but Aled knew far better than to ask for it. Gabriel would probably murder him with the desired stiletto just for suggesting it. So Aled kept the fantasy to himself but couldn’t help stroking those pale feet with his own, watching them squirm and wiggle away only to return once he’d stopped for a few minutes.

  Aled was in the mood for more.

  But not the coercion or the abuse of last night. He was in the mood to explore. To hold Gabriel down and worship him for once. It usually had to be done as orgasm denial to keep Gabriel interested, but Aled felt like something sweet. Something long, uninterrupted, and appreciative.

  He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text.

  Me: Don’t come upstairs

  Chris: Gross

  Me: ;)

  “Done?”

  “Yeah.”

  He took the empty plate—then put it out on the landing and closed the bedroom door. Gabriel watched through narrowed eyes as Aled opened the wardrobe and removed some ties, and folded his arms under his naked breasts as Aled dropped them on the end of the bed.

  “I got fucked three times last night by some very abusive men,” he said. “You expect me to open my legs again?”

  “Yep. Hands on the headboard.”

  “But—”

  “Hands. On. The headboard.”

  Gabriel hesitated, then said, “The minute I feel a twinge, you’re getting safeworded.” But curiosity always killed the cat, and he put his hands up to the headboard. Aled tied each wrist to a bedpost, leaving Gabriel flat on his back and stretched out too much to even bend his elbows. Then he did the same to his ankles, leaving Gabriel spread-eagled and barely even able to arch his back. Aled kissed his inner thigh before getting off the bed. He nipped into the bathroom for the razor and a bowl of warm water. On his way back, he paused to rummage through the dresser at the foot of the bed. He hadn’t played with the edible lube in months, but there was still a generous bottle of mango at the bottom of the sex drawer, and he added it to his collection.

  “Okay,” Aled said, kneeling between Gabriel’s knees and arranging the items on the sheets. “This is what we’re going to play. I’m going to shave you. And when you’re polished up, I’m going to use this whole bottle of lube. And you’re going to enjoy the hell out of it.”

  He actually preferred Gabriel with some hair, but Gabriel thought it got in the way of the best orgasms and tended to shave. Every now and then he’d pay Judith to wax him properly, but he didn’t feel safe going to salons for it. But he’d not been able to shave himself for weeks, much less get waxed, so his bush was wild, the way Aled liked it, rather than tidy or non-existent like Gabriel preferred. Sure enough, he groaned appreciatively when Aled wet the razor.

  “Fuck, I love you.”

  “I know.”

  “And that’s it?” he asked as Aled gently nudged the razor between his thigh and his labia and began to smooth the wiry hair away. “Just shave me and eat me out?”

  “That’s it.”

  Gabriel dropped his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes.

  “I suppose I can let you do that.”

  Aled chuckled. “Why, thank you.” He bent his head to kiss Gabriel’s bellybutton, then sat back and carried on.

  Much as he wasn’t a fan of the bald look, there was something soothing and almost erotic about shaving the hair away. He moved with a gentle, steady hand. The rough sound of the razor made a sharp contrast to the warm flannel wiping away clumps of black curls. The dangerous scrape of a blade so close to Gabriel’s most sensitive areas was soothed by the cooling cream that Aled rubbed into every centimetre once it was bared. The clinical act of pulling each fold and crease smooth to catch every last hair was undermined by the breathy sighs above him and the slowly swelling dick nudging his fingernails. Gabriel’s dick was nothing more than a clitoris engorged by years of testosterone therapy, but it was more sensitive than any cock Aled had ever wanked off, and he paused once he was done with the razor to dip his head and kiss the hood.

  “Fuuuuck,” Gabriel whispered.

  “Want a blowjob to start you off?”

  “Mm, yes please.”

  Aled set the used bowl and razor on the floor, then climbed back up and rested his elbows either side of Gabriel’s hips, kissing the soft, warm skin of his abdomen just below the bellybutton. He was still lean from hospital food, and Aled gnawed lightly on prominent hip bones until the helpless giggles turned to protests, then moved lower.

  When hard, the tip of Gabriel’s dick could just about be held between Aled’s lips. He pressed his tongue against it until Gabriel groaned, then massaged it with his mouth. It throbbed, echoing Gabriel’s racing heart. The smell of the cream was quickly overcome by the smell of sex, and Aled paused for a moment to breathe it in before returning to the task at hand, and massaging Gabriel’s dick with his lips.

  Aled lived for the thrill, the edge, the violence, the psychological torture of their usual games. The cold rush of adrenalin and the sense of power. But there was something almost ethereal about this kind of control, too. Gabriel couldn’t escape this if he tried. Aled could do anything he wanted, and Gabriel would be powerless to stop him. To have him like this, and yet do nothing but explore his body and draw him gently to ecstasy rather than drive him there by force—

  It was wholly different
kind of dominance.

  Aled sucked him right through the climax. The ties groaned as Gabriel strained. The yell wasn’t quite a word. But Aled didn’t let go until the shaking had subsided and the breathless moans turned to whimpers, a protest against his mouth on oversensitive cock.

  Aled drew off, kissed a jumping pulse on Gabriel’s inner thigh and reached for the lube. He sat back on his heels, rolling the bottle between his palms to warm the contents, and conducted a quick visual examination, making sure Gabriel hadn’t pulled the ties too tight around his limbs. Once satisfied, he twisted the cap off the bottle and squeezed his signature out along a jutting hip bone.

  “Aled?”

  “Mm?”

  “No fisting.”

  “Wasn’t going to, gorgeous.”

  “M’kay.”

  In fact, Aled intended on using his hands as little as possible. The mango lube was just the right mix of sweet and tart, and he smeared his signature out of existence with his tongue before nipping at the crease where leg met hip. He dipped lower to kiss warm, wet cunt—still relaxed from yesterday’s brutal fuck and the gentle climax Aled had offered—before returning to the shaved-smooth labia and beginning to coat them in the sweet, slippery scent of mango. To avoid temptation, he slid his hands under Gabriel’s arse and kneaded at his cheeks while he worked.

  “Jesus…”

  Mouth busy, Aled didn’t deign to answer. He mapped both outer and inner labia, giving Gabriel’s cock time to recover, before returning to it and coaxing it back to fullness. When that first mouthful of lube was spent, he trickled a cool stream straight down the length of Gabriel’s dick and sucked it off in time to the shivers that racked his trapped frame.

  “Fuck,” Gabriel whispered. “Bite me.”

  “What?”

  “I need to come. Bite me!”

  Aled chuckled. He sank his teeth into Gabriel’s thigh in a savage, bruising bite, and tightened his jaw when the headboard banged against the wall. Something wet and warm splashed against his cheek. When he let go, he laughed to realise Gabriel had come so hard he’d ruined the sheets.

  “Better?”

  “Mm.” A knee twitched. “Want m’legs.”

  “Why?”

  “Want to wrap my thighs around your head f’r the next one…”

  Aled considered it as he stroked more lube around the shivering edges of Gabriel’s cunt with his tongue. Being strangled by Gabriel’s knees didn’t sound fun. But slinging them over his shoulders and tongue-fucking him sounded much better.

  “No,” he decided, and blew on Gabriel’s dick when he protested. “Another time.”

  He did yield to the temptation to eat him out, though. Burying his nose against Gabriel’s cock to get as deep as possible, Aled mapped that familiar place with his tongue rather than his fingers or his cock. Short laps opened him up and deep probes had him moaning like a professional porn star.

  One squeeze was all it took.

  Aled ate the climax that struck Gabriel like a freight train, and pulled out only when it was over, to wipe his tongue on a heaving belly and kiss a thundering heart.

  “You—you done?” Gabriel whispered.

  “Nope. Still a good inch of lube left in the bottom of this bottle,” Aled said and crawled up far enough to kiss his cheek. “How d’you feel about being turned over and your arse getting some attention for a change?”

  Gabriel strained his head up. Aled granted the demanded kiss. It tasted of fake mangoes, sex and desperation.

  “If you don’t fuck my arse with your mouth just like that,” Gabriel whispered against his lips, “then you’re not getting lucky again for a month.”

  Aled chuckled. He didn’t usually go for rimming, but there was a flash of furious demand in Gabriel’s eyes that dared him to even try and back out of his offer.

  And who would want to try and get out of that?

  “Okay,” he said. “Over you go. And if you keep quiet, I’ll suck your dick one last time for dessert.”

  Gabriel couldn’t manage stairs yet, couldn’t work and couldn’t get in the car without a pillow and lying down in the back seat to avoid being sick.

  But he was better.

  And they were going to be okay.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Something was not okay.

  Chris paused in the open doorway, keys dangling from his fingers and the sweat gluing his shirt to his back. He needed a shower, and to put his shoes to dry on some newspaper. Thunder was growling overhead, but it was nothing compared to the shout that ripped through the house.

  “I’m not fucking terminal!”

  He relaxed. It wasn’t rough sex. Just a row.

  Tossing the keys into the bowl, he shut the door and prised off his filthy socks and shoes before heading upstairs. The row was bouncing around in the master bedroom, so he shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hint didn’t work. They kept shouting as he washed and were no closer to a solution when he stepped out and reached for the nearest towel.

  Thing was, Chris couldn’t work out what it was about.

  He’d never really seen either of them shouting. Gabriel was very placid with him, and if Aled had a temper, Chris simply hadn’t been around him long enough to bear witness. And the argument had probably started a while ago, because it seemed to be moving in a loop of Aled saying he wasn’t discussing it any further, and Gabriel bawling him out for not discussing it in the first place.

  Chris sighed.

  Nothing else for it but to interrupt.

  He didn’t like fights, but the army had given him the tools to deal with it. As a teenager, he’d have been cowering in the corner. As a former squaddie, he just shouldered the bedroom door open and marched in wearing nothing but his towel.

  “Can it!” he bellowed.

  Silence.

  Stunned silence from Gabriel. Aled simply raised an eyebrow.

  Gabriel was sat up in bed against a mountain of pillows, a plate of forgotten toast in his lap. Aled was standing by the wardrobe, mostly dressed but for the open collar and undone tie. The lines on his face made him look exhausted, but his mouth was a thin, grim slash.

  “What’s going on?” Chris asked.

  “My—”

  “Aled’s sister has had her first baby but he’s refusing to go and visit because I can’t travel yet,” Gabriel interrupted. “He’s being a fucking moron.”

  “It doesn’t feel right to—”

  “She is your sister! That baby is your nephew! Your first nephew! Go and fucking hold him and send me a cheesy picture, for fuck’s sake!”

  “They’re in Cornwall. I’d have to be gone the whole weekend—”

  “Then fucking go!”

  “Oi!”

  Chris had been bullied at school and in the army for being a pussy. He was shy, avoided banter, had never been one of the lads and had usually been taken for gay. But there was one thing he could do, and one thing his superior officers had wished he’d do more often.

  If he shouted, it put Gunnery Sergeant Hartman to shame.

  Gabriel fell mutinously silent, like many a pushy soldier before him, and Chris folded his arms over his chest.

  “Aled, go and see your nephew.”

  Aled pursed his lips.

  “And who are you to—”

  “I’m the nurse you’re literally paying so I can take some of the pressure off,” Chris returned. “A couple of days in Cornwall will be good. We can have some time to ourselves, you can relax with your family, everybody wins.”

  Very pointedly, Aled eyed the bed.

  “I’m also the one who has to do most of the lifting and carrying, old man.”

  “Hey!”

  Chris shrugged.

  “And what if something happens?”

  “Like what?” Chris asked. “Like he falls?”

  “Yes. Like he falls.”

  “Then either he gets up or I call an ambulance. But he’s not going to fall, because he can’t bribe
me with sex into letting him do stupid shit.”

  Gabriel threw him a foul look, but Chris ignored him.

  “Go and meet your baby nephew. We’ll be fine, and you need to fucking relax.”

  “Excuse me—”

  “No,” Chris snapped. “You look ten years older than last time I was up north. Go and see your goddamn family and stop worrying for five minutes.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t—”

  “Why?”

  Aled stopped. Chris raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  “Why is it easy for me to say?” he asked, in a far gentler tone. “Because he means more to you? Because it would hurt you more to lose him? You know neither of those are true.”

  “He is right here.” But Gabriel’s voice, too, was little more than a murmur.

  And it worked.

  Aled’s hard stance softened. His shoulders sagged. The slash in the lower part of his face turned into a mouth again.

  “You need some time away,” Gabriel said. “We’ve got this. See Suze, send me twee baby pictures and bitch to her about what a nightmare I am.”

  Aled huffed a weak laugh. “As always.”

  “Ring her when you get to work.”

  Aled checked his watch and rolled his eyes before resuming his wrestle with the tie. “Fine,” he said. “You win. But I reserve the right to check in whenever I want.”

  “If you check in at three in the morning, we’re having words,” Gabriel retorted.

  It took a little more effort to actually get Aled out of the door, and Chris had no doubt he’d want to excuse himself from the evening’s making-up routine, but eventually the front door closed and the engine on that enviable car started up. Chris rolled his eyes at the histrionics and headed back upstairs to finish getting dressed.

  “I didn’t know you and Aled fought,” he remarked as Gabriel finally ate his toast.

  “Not often,” Gabriel admitted. “He’s stubborn but he doesn’t tend to get loud. That’s usually me.”