He kisses me lightly again, melding his generous mouth to mine, and I lose myself in his fresh, honest taste, in his strength and warmth. If I’m brave enough to just hold it all together and trust his words, then I can kid myself that I can taste the tiniest edges of happiness too—me with him, feeling cherished, feeling loved. And not long after that profound thought, like the insatiable sex god that I am, I fall fast asleep again.

  *

  At some point during the night, he half carries, half manhandles me into bed. I’m sleepily aware of his warm bulk settling in next to me and laying my head on his chest, encircled in his arms. Waking at dawn several hours later, the room still dark, I lie quietly, listening to Jay’s regular breathing. My first thoughts are that I haven’t felt so calm and refreshed for as long as I can remember. My feet haven’t been so warm either, which has everything to do with the human hot-water bottle lightly snoring alongside me.

  My libido is also feeling refreshed, and suddenly, the few centimetres distance between me and that broad expanse of naked boy are too much. I could lie here for ages and watch him as he peacefully sleeps, and when he wakes, I could gently seduce him, with teasing caresses and nibbling kisses, until he’s begging me for more. He’s never been with a man before; I could take it easy and slow.

  But as my libido has sprung awake for the first time in aeons, I have a much better plan in mind. After quickly stripping off my nightie, it would not be stretching the realms of exaggeration to say that I launch myself at him. Thus, in the sleepy half-light of early morning, Jay wakes with a jolt of incomprehension to find the length of his huge firm body covered in mine. I snuggle closer, relishing every point where our bodies touch, my face nestled into the warm crook of his neck, breathing him in. As his hands automatically slide around my waist, he shifts slightly, sleepily spreading his legs so I can settle myself comfortably between them. I hum contentedly.

  “Are you purring, Lucien?” He chuckles softly in the dark.

  The memory of our amazing kisses against the desk in my office has my cock stirring. I hum again, feeling his chest rumbling with laughter, and my cock swells even more. Wriggling it gently against his, he gasps with shock and pleasure as our hard shafts greet each other.

  “Christ, that feels so nice,” he groans softly into my ear as I do it again, a more deliberate roll of my hips this time, relishing the scratchiness of his pubes against my groin. Very slowly, very gently, we find a rhythm, and for the first time in his life, he learns to love the delicious, lazy bump and slide of a simple cock rub as our bodies slicken with sweat and leaking pre-come.

  “Gosh, you like that, don’t you, Jay?”

  “Yeah, God, yeah. Remind me why I waited twenty-nine years for this?”

  You waited for me, I want to say, so I would be the only man who ever had you this way.

  His big hands explore lower over the swell of my hips, easily covering my arse cheeks. As his hips rock up to meet mine, I bury my face further into the shadowy groove of his neck and collarbone, nibbling and sucking as I go, tasting his fresh salty skin. I slide my mouth lower, down to the flat brown disc of a nipple, and he cries out with shock when I tug it into my mouth.

  “Lucien, fuck. Luce,” he moans, and I wonder if he can sense me grinning with delight against his skin. I move back up his body again and find his mouth. Gradually, our rhythm becomes faster and more ragged as he lifts his hips higher, our cocks battling against each other. A familiar delicious tingling in my spine tells me I’m close to release.

  “I’m going to come,” warns Jay, and I’m not sure if he’s surprised, panicked, ecstatic, or semaphoring a mixture of all three.

  “That is generally the idea,” I pant, and as I bite down firmly onto his nipple again, gorgeous waves of liquid heat spurt between our bellies, accompanied by his gasp and curse of pleasure. That cry is all it takes for my own orgasm to erupt, mingling with his, both of us jerking out every drop until I settle gently back on top of him, our bodies stilling once more, the only sound the slowing thump of his heart in my ear.

  “Fuck,” he says eventually. “Just…wow…fuck.”

  With his strong arms wrapped around me in the dark, I could lie cocooned in this wet, sticky mess for the rest of the day. He makes a wonderful pillow, and whoever declared a Midlands accent wasn’t sexy has never heard my boy Jay calling their name in the midst of orgasm. I think I nod off again; there is something about this solid boy that makes me want to curl up against him and never let go.

  As the sky brightens and my room lightens, I reluctantly lift up onto my elbows and look down at him more clearly.

  “Good morning, my darling,” I murmur, and he blushes beautifully.

  “I think we’re going to be glued together forever now,” he remarks, shifting his weight experimentally. Yep, he may be correct. It’s fairly crusty down there.

  “It’s odd being in this position,” he carries on, shyly looking up at me. “You know, lying here underneath and not on top. I mean, I’ve obviously had a girl on top, but you’re, like, bigger and…um…it feels like you’re in charge up there, you know? You’re stronger than you look, Lucien.” He smiles self-consciously. “I like it, though. I didn’t think I would. In my head I sort of always imagined me up there and you down here. But I like it a lot.”

  “I like it too, Jay. And I like you a lot.”

  I lean down and kiss him, my tongue exploring. We’ve both probably got stale morning breath, but neither of us notices or cares. He breaks away and looks up at me self-consciously.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He’s about to say something but changes his mind and nods instead before stretching his neck up for more and then breaking off again.

  “…Do you, I mean, are you always on top?”

  I shake my head, smiling, and just to demonstrate, I roll off him, taking him with me so that our positions are reversed. Blimey, he’s heavy. Fortunately, he quickly realises I’m squashed and takes some of his weight on his elbows.

  “Don’t you dare tell anyone, because it will spoil my image,” I whisper in a conspiratorial fashion, “But Dr Avery is very, very easy to please. He’s extremely versatile. He likes it top ways, bottom ways, sideways, diagonal ways, um…on seaways, leeways, motorways, on bridleways…” I giggle. “And in alleyways, pathways, doorways, archways…anyways probably, as long as it is with you.”

  My silliness is rewarded with his beautiful easy smile, beaming down at me, followed by a loud tummy rumble.

  “Gosh, I’ve been a dreadful host.” I pout up at him girlishly. “In pursuit of my own pleasure, I forgot that all those well-honed muscles need regular feeding.”

  “Puny aristocratic ones do too,” he replies, manoeuvring off me and climbing out of bed. “And you need to eat more before you waste away. Which is why I’m going to make you a proper breakfast.”

  *

  I luxuriate in bed with a warm, fuzzy glow for a while before quickly showering, then follow the delicious aroma of frying bacon into the kitchen. As much as I could have lazed around under a duvet with him for the rest of the day—because, basically, I’m aching to have him inside me—I appreciate that this is all a bit new for him, and he may need time to adjust. And some protein and carbohydrates. So I’m going to be generous and allow him at least half an hour to regroup before I launch myself on him again. And who said we need to be in bed to fuck? I’ve been fantasising about him taking me over my kitchen table for weeks.

  Having anticipated a couple of rashers of bacon between two slices of bread, the full English being dished out onto my delicate white china plates is quite impressive. As is the vision of my new man, filling out a long-sleeved white T-shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low from his hips.

  “Which rugby team have you invited to join us for breakfast?” I enquire, eyeing the mounds of food. “I’m not saying I’m not up for a challenge now I’ve acquired a taste for the larger physique, but I’m not certain I could manage all fifteen of you.”

  “You won’t grow big and strong, Dr Avery, if you don’t eat a proper breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day. Now sit.”

  I do what I’m told and accept a plate laden with more calories than I’ve consumed all week. I’m actually vaguely hungry, and he watches me eat like a proud father with a recalcitrant toddler.

  I chew a mouthful of black pudding. I should ask him to photograph it, my cousin Freddie will never believe me otherwise. I swallow. “The most important meal of the day is the one you have before a big night out drinking in dodgy nightclubs. If anyone should heed that advice it would be you.”

  He looks at me amused through his lashes before lasciviously licking a blob of stray ketchup from his upper lip. “But if I’d heeded that advice, then I wouldn’t have gone to Spangles, and I wouldn’t be here with you, would I?”

  Chapter Ten

  Jay

  I virtually fled down to the kitchen this morning. I needed space away from him, a moment of calm to sense check my emotions. I’d actually done it. A night in bed with a man. Waking this morning to him lying on top of me, rubbing his bare dick against mine, making love in the dark, was fucking beyond unbelievable. And making love was exactly what it had felt like to me. Even though the light had been too dim to see him properly, I’d felt every perfect inch of that smooth long body covering mine, the pleasure-pain pinch of his teeth on my nipples, the velvet hardness of his dick. I’d only just managed to last as long as I did, coming with a surge of need I’ve never experienced before. Any lingering doubts about my sexuality had been comprehensively annihilated at dawn.

  And the having him on top part, that was a shock to the system, too, understanding how much I’d enjoyed being held underneath his firm, masculine body. All my sexual fantasies up until this morning had always culminated with me on top, with my cock in another bloke’s arse. But Lucien has blown my mind because now I think I fancy a bit of the other. I want to be taken by a bloke, to have a man inside me.

  But it’s not just any man; it’s him. It’s Lucien Avery making me feel chaotically adrift. All my life, I’ve been steady, dependable, reliable, sensible. Son, brother, doctor, boyfriend. Following an unwavering path down the middle of the road, without checking left or right, so certain of my place and role on this earth. Until something changed, until out of all the homosexual men I could have picked for my last-ditch experimental flutter before locking those feelings safely back in their sealed box forever, I selected him.

  Watching him now, delicately picking his way through his breakfast to please me, every glimpse of his sharp little teeth, every bob of that long white throat as he swallows, every blink of those knowing pale-blue eyes, has my dick as hard as a fence post.

  With a final forkful successfully swallowed down, I push my plate aside and pull him upright. I’m rewarded with an amused smile; he’s feeling it too. We were almost racing each other through the last few mouthfuls.

  First things first.

  “As much as they turn me on,” I breathe, “this granny dressing gown and Wee Willie Winkie nightie have to come off.”

  The reason being, from the odd peeks I’ve stolen, and from the outline of him in the dawn light, what’s hiding underneath is awesome. I throw myself at him, no chat, no deliberation, no opportunity to change my mind. It’s all or nothing, and it has to be all, otherwise my balls will explode.

  The lacy garments are left in a pile on the kitchen floor, then I push myself up against him. I’m broad, and he’s slender; he’s only a couple of inches or so shorter than me, but much lighter and barefoot. I easily scoop him up in my arms as our mouths clash together, all teeth and tongues. I hear myself groan, and I swear with pleasure. He giggles delightfully against my open mouth at the ridiculous noises I’m producing. I squeeze his taut bare arse, so smooth and hairless, while his hands are wrapped in my hair. The desperate neediness isn’t all one-sided; he eats my mouth with equal abandon, exploring every dark corner of it, although minus the sound effects I’m unable to control. If I make noises like this just kissing him, god knows what I’ll be like when we actually do anything more.

  I move across his jaw and onto his long, elegant neck, sucking and biting around the rope of pearls. Lucien stretches his throat up and away, allowing me more, allowing me the whole length of that narrow pale expanse. It’s not enough; I close my eyes and drift lower, down to his nipples and bite around something hard and metallic, sucking and kissing and biting again. And then the other side, and I know he likes it, even though he hardly makes a sound, because he thrusts up into me, pushing my head closer still, wanting more. And then I’m back up at his lips, and he wants that again, too, his tongue as eager as mine.

  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Lucien breaks away first. He eyes me like prey, hardly out of breath, whereas I’m panting like a dog on heat.

  “Only one of us is naked,” he indicates vaguely in the direction of my body. “Seems a little unfair.”

  My brain is slow to catch up with his words when he leans with one hip hitched casually against the sink as if he’s fully dressed and contemplating whether to have a cup of Earl Grey or Lapsang, as though his beautiful raging hard-on belongs to somebody else entirely. Standing back, I see his body properly for the first time in broad daylight. It surely is something to behold. Long and lean, on the thin side of slender because he hardly fucking eats anything, his smooth skin is as flawless and white as alabaster. His chest is hairless, by design not a razor. His nipples are…well, difficult to see actually, because both have stuff hanging from them—one has the diamond encrusted bar through the middle of it and the other a feathery thing. Who cares what it is? It’s hot as hell. No scars, no moles, no blemishes, he’s Adonis brought to life, and that dick…fuck. I’ve seen it once before, but I was pissed then, in a dark corner of a dark nightclub. Now I’m sober as a nun’s tit, and the sun is streaming brightly through the kitchen window. In its full glory, it’s long and pale, hard as granite, curving upwards out of its neat, cosy bed of pale hair towards his navel. A fat bead of pre-come, mimicking one of the pearls around his neck, gleams at the pinkish tip.

  “Matching collar and cuffs. Nice,” I blurt idiotically as I wriggle out of my joggers, so I’m just in my long-sleeved tee. Not cool, Jay. Taking off the top half first is a much more attractive striptease. I seem to have temporarily mislaid the rational part of my brain.

  “Did you think that I dyed my hair this insane colour?” he asks, icily amused.

  Finally, my clothes are off and I’m in front of him once more, fists clenched at my sides. “I’m thinking nothing sensible at the moment. As you can probably tell.”

  He gives his dick a couple of lazy strokes, as if I’m not even in the room, openly appraising my body. The tip of that pink tongue flicks over his lower lip. “Tell me what you want to do with me now, Jay. I’m all yours.”

  I want to make you smile properly again. I want to hear that sweet giggling more often. I want to cook you decent meals and watch you eat them. I want to make slow gentle love to you; I want you to show me how gay men do it properly. I have a suspicion I want your cock up my arse. I want to lie in bed next to you all night and every night, with my arms all around you, holding you tight as you sleep, keeping you safe.

  But I can’t say all that. I don’t have the nerve, and I’ll scare him off. More than that, my brain is being totally dominated by my inner caveman, my vocabulary has shrunk to words of two syllables max. “Um…I want to bend you over this table and fuck you. I want you to show me how.”

  More evidence of my silky tongue, but he’s unfazed, just more slow stroking. Christ, I swear I could come just watching him do that.

  “I think you probably know how, Jay.”

  He reaches into what looks like an ancient flowery tea caddy next to the sink, retrieves a condom packet, and tosses it to me. Well, I suppose that’s one place to keep them.

  “We don’t need that,” I inform him, preferring not to use it. “Ellie and me…we…neither of us ever cheated or anything. I haven’t been checked for years, but I don’t need it. I don’t want to use it, Luce. I want to feel you properly, although I know that gay men do use them and it’s safer and we should be careful and responsible and, okay then, I’ll use it, and…”

  My hands are shaking. I’m babbling like a fucking idiot. Of course I should use the bloody condom; it’s only a bloody condom after all. But when I state I don’t want to use it, I swear his breathing becomes just that little bit faster, the tip of his tongue darts out again, wetting his upper lip. He deliberates slowly.

  “Since Jules and I parted ways, I’ve been in the sexual equivalent of the Sahara. I didn’t totally trust him and arranged to be tested after he left. And nothing. So, in that case…do you trust me?”

  I nod; at this point I’ll agree to anything, to be honest. The mood’s been killed for sure. I wouldn’t blame him if he regrets his haste in agreeing to let such an inexperienced guy fuck him.

  Coming to a decision, he takes the condom back, drops it in the tea caddy, and carefully replaces the lid.

  I am so out of my depth as Lucien strolls past me to the table. He slides our breakfast plates and a copy of the Telegraph to one side, presumably to avoid getting newsprint on his face. With increasing awe and incredulity, I watch as he then arranges himself over one end of the solid oak, long legs spread and arse in the air, before settling his chest against the tabletop and lightly gripping the edge of the opposite side to brace himself.

  “Is this what you want, Jay?” he asks coolly, his voice a low whispery flutter.

  Of course, deep down I know it shouldn’t be like this. His protective Dr Avery shield has made a reappearance, and it’s not how I wanted it to be the first time. In bed earlier, I experienced the joys of sweet, loving Lady Louisa. For this, I imagined the shy earl, all soft and flirty, hand-holding and gentle kisses. A bit like when I’ve done it with girls for the first time, starting slow and patiently building up, half expecting them to put the brakes on if I go too far. Not like now; his Dr Avery persona is too cold, too emotionally stunted.