Handle With Care

by Josephine Myles

  “They wouldn’t go,” Ollie said in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

  “Why not? This one would go perfectly with the colour scheme in the kitchen.” I held up one that had caught my eye: a skater doing some kind of airborne stunt, silhouetted against a gold-and-peach sunset.

  “You want my pictures up in your kitchen? Really?”

  “Our kitchen. And yes, really. You have talent, and I want it to feel like your home too.”

  “Does that mean I can put my spaceships up on the bedroom ceiling?”

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  I cast a horrified glance up at them, imagining them hanging above the bed in my perfectly restful, harmonious bedroom.

  Ollie chuckled and punched my arm. “I’m only joking. God, you should see the look on your face.”

  Shame washed over me. There I was, thinking of it as my bedroom still. This co-habiting was going to take some time to adjust to, I could see.

  “Of course we can put your spaceships up. Just…maybe not in the bedroom.

  How about the living room?” I couldn’t believe I’d just offered that.

  “That’d be brilliant. They’ll go much better with the decor in there.”

  I nodded, wisely deciding not to pass comment. Perhaps I’d become too precious about my interior design scheme, anyway. Who really cared if plastic spaceships knocked shoulders with Jasper Conran sofas, Italian shelving and hand-printed wallpaper? If there was room for Ollie in my life, then there was room for his stuff too. I recalled how my one touch of kitsch, the Nightcrawler key holder, had been instrumental in bringing us closer. Yes, perhaps I needed more of the quirky in my home. Let’s face it, there’d be plenty of quirky with Ollie around the place.

  I grabbed him around the waist and kissed him.

  “What was that for?” Ollie asked.

  “Just for being you.”

  “You’re weird, you are,” he said, smiling. “Now let me get on with this, yeah? I want you to take me home and fuck me stupid.”

  Oh yes. That. I turned back to my task and tried not to dwell on the terms “erectile dysfunction” and “performance anxiety”. Unfortunately, they seemed to take up all the available room in my brain.

  I lay back on my bed—our bed—wondering if this was how people used to feel on their wedding nights, back in the days when virginity was a valuable commodity. Not that I’m comparing myself to a virgin bride or anything—but my poor body had been through the wars, and it had been so long since my last shag, I wasn’t remotely confident I’d make a good lover.

  And God, I wanted to be good for Ollie. I could hear him splashing about in the shower, singing jubilantly but slightly off key as he sluiced all that paint and sweat off his skin. We’d only got back about half an hour ago, and Ollie had dumped his bags of clothing and spaceships in the living room, promising he’d take care of them first thing in the morning. I’d taken my shower first, too weirded out about the whole moving-in thing to take him up on his offer to share, muttering some lame excuse about the stall being too small. He’d just given me another one of those affectionate looks that made me feel about five years old and said he’d switch on the heated towel rail for me.

  So here I was, splayed out on the bed—our bed—the sheets smooth against my slightly damp skin. Between the soporific effect of the hot shower on my exhausted muscles and the paralysing fear that I wouldn’t be able to fuck Ollie the way he deserved, I couldn’t seem to be able to move. The feather duvet felt like a lead blanket pinning me to the mattress.

  The clanking of the water in the pipes ceased, and my heart began to pound.

  It would only be moments now, and here I was, as limp as an old carrot that’s been forgotten about at the back of the fridge. Bugger. I persuaded one of my arms to move and took hold of my dick. I tugged a few times, but it didn’t want to wake up. Felt like the times I was full of dialysate and couldn’t persuade the little bastard to respond. Not even with porn.

  Now there was a thought.

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  I couldn’t face getting up to put on a DVD, but I had Ollie’s drawings in the drawer by my bed. I fumbled around and managed to grab hold of the folder with a minimum of movement, dragging it out and over. I rested a minute before opening it, aware of the sounds of Ollie towelling off, still belting out some thrash-metal tune that sounded ridiculous without the backing music.

  Okay, so he’d find me looking at porn when he got back in here. What the hell? He drew it.

  I pulled out the first drawing, and my breathing hitched.

  It was a new one.

  I was still staring at it when Ollie entered the room.

  “You found it.” Ollie’s voice was quiet, hesitant. He gave a nervous laugh. “I was going to give that to you afterwards.”

  “Do you mean it?” I asked, my eyes watering like crazy.

  “Yeah.” Ollie lowered himself onto the edge of the bed while I gazed at the picture. It showed Cyber-Ben and Sidekick-Ollie at it again, this time with Ollie riding me. But it wasn’t the erotic content that had blindsided me—it was Ollie’s speech bubble. “Love you,” he was saying to Ben, and the look in both their eyes was that indulgent one I’d been seeing a lot of from Ollie lately.

  “You love me?” How could anyone actually love me who wasn’t obliged to by blood?

  “Is that okay? I mean, I thought you knew. I know it’s probably way too soon, and I don’t expect you to feel the same way yet, but I hoped in time you might—”

  I pushed myself up and silenced him with a kiss. As our tongues slid together, a sensation of rightness washed over me. I wanted to keep doing this.

  With Ollie.

  When we came up for air, Ollie gave me this look. “So does that mean…”

  “It means I do too.”

  “Do what?” he asked, his cheeks dimpling.

  I swallowed hard. “I think I love you.”

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  Chapter Twenty-One

  There, that wasn’t so hard after all. Okay, so my voice croaked and my palms were damp with sweat, but I’d done it. I’d said it.

  And I’d meant it.

  “You only think? I dunno.” Ollie shook his head in mock sadness. Bugger, he was enjoying this. “Maybe it’s because you haven’t had a chance to do me yet.

  Isn’t that supposed to be the moment you fall in love? When you’re pumping me full of your creamy love-juice?”

  I stared at him. “Have you been reading porny romance or something?”

  Ollie looked shifty. “Well, I might have picked up my mum’s Mills & Boons now and again. Some of the guys on the covers were pretty hot, you know?”

  “You’ve got a taste for Fabio now, have you? I should be worried you’re going to run off with some pool-cleaning hunk?”

  “Nah, they’re all doctors or businessmen in those books. Just like you. I reckon I’m more pool-cleaning material. Or house cleaning.”

  “Stop that, right now.” I kissed him hard to force the issue, then took a deep breath and prepared to lay my soul bare. “You’re the most mature and responsible bloke I’ve ever met. You have a kind heart, and everyone loves you.

  You could do whatever the fuck you want with your life, and I still don’t understand why you want to throw it away on a grumpy old git like me, but I feel honoured.”

  Ollie grinned. “You forgot something.”

  “What?” Damn, that speech had taken everything out of me. What more did he want?

  “I have an amazingly hot and shaggable arse as well.” Ollie stood up, letting the towel around his waist drop to the floor so he could illustrate the point.

  I reached out to squeeze one of those tempting buttocks. “Oh yeah. So you do.” Energy buzzed through me, reviving my exhausted muscles, and I sat up properly, swinging my legs down over the edge of the bed. A line came to mind from that DVD he’d brought round, and I grinned. Hopefully Ollie would get the reference.

  “Put your hands against the wall and spread ’em, punk.”


  Ollie gave a delighted gasp, and I felt a jolt pass through his body. He leant forward to comply, walking his hands down the mirror on the wardrobe door so that his arse was raised in welcome.

  “Officer, you won’t force the truth out of me like this,” he protested, shooting me a look over his shoulder that was pure mischief. “No matter how hard you beat me with your love truncheon.” Yeah, he fancied himself as the twink hoodlum, caught by the big bad bear of a cop. Shame I didn’t have the hat.

  Or the uniform.

  But the role-playing was only a distraction, something to take my mind off the bewildering confession Ollie had made, and to combat my performance anxieties. And I didn’t need to pretend to be a horny policeman to do that. I only had to reach out and part Ollie’s cheeks, bend down and taste him.

  The yelp Ollie made when my tongue teased his hole was like nothing I’d ever heard from him before, and his hips jerked so hard I nearly sprained my neck trying to keep contact.

  “God, keep still, will you? I’m trying to rim you here.”

  “Yeah. I…I can tell. Oh fuck, that’s so m-much more…”

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  “So much more what?” I teased, insanely flattered that I’d reduced him to incoherency. I’d had no idea a simple rim job would do that to him. Should have tried it sooner, really, but as he’d never illustrated one or passed comment while they were rimming on the DVDs, I’d assumed he wasn’t all that into them. From his reaction, though, I started to think maybe it was just that he’d never experienced one before.

  “Just, God, do it again, will you? C’mon, Ben!”

  I couldn’t resist him, this man I loved, so I gave a few long licks from his balls up to his hole, before sealing my lips around his entrance and sucking. I’m glad I kept a firm grip on his hips because that had him bucking again, pulling away from me and making a peculiar gurgling noise.

  “You okay?” I asked when I heard his head hit the wardrobe, making the hangers inside rattle.

  “Yes! It just…it feels so dirty.”

  “In a good way?”

  “Fuck yes!” Ollie’s tone was emphatic enough to leave me in no doubt that he was enjoying himself. I gave a quick manual check and discovered he was as hard as I was, and I was like bloody granite at that point.

  I made my voice extra deep and gravelly. “Just you wait till you feel my tongue in there.”

  Ollie groaned, and I pushed my advantage, pulling his cheeks as far apart as they’d go and relentlessly swirling my tongue around and over his puckered hole. I waited until he was swearing nonsense words and his legs were trembling before breaching him. He was hot and tight, his flavour heady and intense. I growled as I plunged in eagerly, desperate for more.

  “Ben! Oh fuck, I can’t stop!”

  I felt Ollie’s muscles contract around me as his body stiffened. It might have been my imagination as the howl he gave just about split my eardrums, but I swear I heard his jizz hit the mirror with a satisfying splatter.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ollie panted.

  “No need to be.” I kissed his tailbone, wincing a little at the ache in my jaw.

  “You’re young. You’ll get it up again soon enough.”

  “No, I mean, I’ve just spunked all over your slippers.”

  We both looked down at the jizz-soaked monster feet. I started to snigger, but Ollie gave me this wounded look in the mirror.

  “I don’t even know if you can put those in the washing machine. They might be dry-clean only.”

  “Ollie, I really don’t give a shit about the slippers. I’ll either wear them spunky or buy a new pair. Now stop worrying about it, and come and lie down with me.”

  When we were snuggled up together, Ollie’s head nestled under my chin and his legs tangled up in mine, I broached the question.

  “So no one’s ever done that for you before, then?”

  He tensed slightly, then sighed and relaxed against me.

  “No. Never. I always thought it might be a bit, uh, disgusting.” I could feel Ollie grimace against my skin.

  “Disgusting?” I tried to wrap my head around what could be disgusting about eating a guy out. “What, like, immoral or something?”

  “No! You know. Did I…did I taste all right?” Ollie buried his face even farther into my shoulder so his words came out all muffled, but I could still hear the vulnerability lurking there.

  I shifted a little, pulling his head back so I could look him in the eyes. “You tasted absolutely delicious, and I can prove it.” I kissed Ollie deeply, enjoying the 170

  surprised moan that escaped him as my tongue delved into his mouth. He kissed me back enthusiastically, and I was pleased to feel his prick firming up again as he writhed against me. Oh, the joys of being twenty!

  “See what I mean,” I said when I eventually broke the kiss.

  “Mmm, yeah. Might have to give it a try on you. But not right now,” Ollie added, rutting against my leg. “Right now, you owe me a shag.”

  “Oh yeah. Look, Ollie…” He gave me this quizzical look as I trailed off, and I had to remind myself that he’d just shown me his vulnerable side. If I couldn’t trust him and—quite literally—expose my soft underbelly, then what chance did we really have of making this thing work? “I hope you’re not expecting too much from me. I’ll do my best, but I’m still fairly weak, and all that painting knackered me out, so I think you’ll have to do most of the—”

  “I know all that, dumbarse.” Ollie gave one of those indulgent smiles again.

  “Is that what you’ve been getting all worked up about all this time? Why don’t you just lie on your back, and I’ll take care of us, yeah?”

  I stared into his kind eyes and rolled onto my back. I was painfully aware that my dick had softened again, and I hoped Ollie could persuade the little traitor to play along. “There’s stuff in the drawer,” I muttered.

  “Should I check the best-before?” Ollie teased. “Make sure they’re not out of date after all those years of self-inflicted celibacy?”

  “Oi! I bought those last week.”

  “Oh, so you’ve been planning this seduction, have you? And there was me thinking you were trying to wriggle out of it.”

  “Shut up,” I said and stopped his mouth with a kiss.

  It took a while for me to get back to full hardness, but Ollie’s fingers stroked and squeezed just so as he kissed my lips. I probably would’ve asked for a blowjob if I’d been able to get a word out, but he wouldn’t stop kissing, and that was all right by me too.

  Actually, that was bloody incredible.

  But eventually he broke it off, and by then I was ready for him. Ready for the latex rolling down my shaft and the cool drizzle of lube. Ready to watch Ollie straddle me and finger himself, concentration and horniness warring on his face.

  Ready to face my fears.

  I think time must have stopped for a moment when Ollie lined himself up. It seemed like I had an age to study him there: the floppy mess of his freshly washed hair, the warmth in his eyes, the flush tinting his kiss-swollen lips, the tight cords of his muscles as he held himself there, waiting, I realised, for some signal from me. I could have watched him like that for longer, but I wanted to see how that beatific expression changed as he took me into him.

  I nodded.

  Ollie flashed me a quick grin and began to move. Tight heat squeezed the head of my cock, and I gasped, but Ollie just laughed. I could feel his muscles working to pull me inside, and sooner than I was prepared for, I felt his arse grind against me. I was enveloped in delicious pressure and totally at his mercy.

  “Shiiiit!” I hissed, trying to get my breathing back under control.

  Ollie gave a breathless chuckle, and I looked up into his face. His cheeks were a little flushed, his pupils dilated, and his lips curved in a smug grin. God, he had me right where he wanted me, didn’t he?

  I found I didn’t mind one bit.

  “How’s that?” Ollie asked. “Comfortable?”


  “Comfortable isn’t the right word.”

  Ollie frowned. “D’you need me to move? Maybe try it lying on our sides?”

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  “No! I want to see your face. This is fine, more than fine. It’s just…it’s too fucking intense for me to call it comfortable.”

  Understanding dawned with a smile that felt like warm syrup had just been poured over my heart. “Yeah,” Ollie breathed. “I want to watch your face too.

  And be able to do this.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips. His movement created a delicious friction around my cock, and I realised just how ready I was for this. Even the press of his dick against the tube and my scar didn’t bother me. In fact, I enjoyed the sensation of him leaving moist trails of precome against my skin.

  I raised my hands to Ollie’s hips and wordlessly encouraged him to start moving, kissing him fiercely and trying to let him know just how much I needed this. He began slowly, not raising himself off me at all, but undulating his body, circling his hips and doing something clever with his muscles so that my dick received the most incredible massage. I don’t know how long he kept it up as Ollie was so hot in bed, time melted around us.

  Ollie moaned into my mouth. Not one of the theatrical, porn star moans he made while tossing one off to a DVD, but more of a surprised sound. Heartfelt. I broke the kiss.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “You’re only saying that ’coz you’re balls deep in my arse.” Ollie seemed to be trying for humour, but I wasn’t laughing.

  “Bollocks. I love you, and you’d better believe it or else.”

  “Good. Quite right too.”

  Ollie’s eyes were looking suspiciously bright, and my own felt prickly, but I was buggered if I was going to get all teary in the middle of our first shag.

  “C’mon, then, get moving. I’m bloody knackered, I am.”

  “Can I really stay tonight?” Ollie blinked and sniffed. “Promise me this isn’t a dream. I don’t wanna wake up back on that airbed.”

  “’Course you can. This is your home now.” I ran my hands up and down his sides, marvelling that this lithe and sexy young man wanted to throw his lot in with a lumbering old bear like me. Still, there’s no accounting for tastes, I suppose. You should see some of the special-interest DVDs there are out there.