Romancing the Ugly Duckling

by Clare London

  It was another moment before he realized, one, Greg wasn’t following in step any longer, and two, people were staring at them. Greg stopped, stock-still, in the middle of the whirling dancers.

  “What’s the matter?” Perry flipped an unruly lock of hair off his sweaty forehead. It was growing out of its usual, fiercely clipped style: he should have it cut sometime soon. “Why have you stopped?”

  “Perry. I… haven’t done this before.”

  “Dancing? But you’re very light on your feet. I think the music helps you keep the rhythm.” It was true. Greg may have been clumsy in other things, but for that brief while, he’d bobbed at Perry’s side and tripped along in tandem, without any upset.

  “No! I don’t mean….”

  Perry suddenly realized Greg didn’t mean dancing per se, but dancing with a man. But no, he wasn’t going to apologize for dragging Greg Ventura out of his comfort zone. He stopped too, his hands on his hips.

  “You feel safe here, don’t you?”

  Greg stared at Perry as if his very soul were being flayed. “Y-yes,” he stammered.

  “I don’t mean to upset that. But how much do you care, Greg? How much do you want to hide?” He knew he was throwing down a challenge. He knew Greg lived and was respected in this community and wouldn’t want to be judged badly. But Greg was gay, wasn’t he? There was no denying it. If he preferred to dance with men rather than women, he was only living his own life. He wasn’t bringing on the end of the world.

  Was Greg thinking the same? He seemed to hang on the edge of a mental precipice, his hand still outstretched but not touching Perry’s. The music shifted in the background, the tone dropping, the beat slowing as another dance started up.

  Please, Greg. Perry would cope with being laughed at, but he didn’t want that for Greg. However, he did want Greg to be true to himself. And he knew suddenly how much he wanted to share that moment of truth with Greg.

  Something touched his fingertips: a hand grasped his.

  Greg swung him around but didn’t hand him over to another dancer. Instead he grasped Perry around the waist and brought them face-to-face.

  “Oh!” It was all Perry could manage.

  They were close, like when the kiss had started. The Kiss, Perry thought, giving it its deserved capitals. He’d wanted more ever since, hadn’t he? And wasn’t this the first time he’d found Greg in a relaxed, happy mood, and maybe open to some more making out…?

  “Not now,” Greg whispered against his left ear.

  Not…? Had he said that aloud? Then Perry realized he was gripping Greg’s hip, his fingers squeezing the beginnings of Greg’s buttock. In public! Oh my God. He immediately let go.

  “So let’s dance,” Greg said softly. And swept them both into the reel that was currently marching across the floor.

  GREG danced off the floor about twenty minutes later, and Perry followed blithely. The dipping and skipping had made him quite dizzy. Or that may have been the gin. Everyone seemed to know the steps of every dance, but he reckoned he’d put up a good enough show as a beginner. The tiptoeing and swirling certainly beat his usual twerking for a full-body workout. His hips would feel the ache tomorrow morning.

  Greg paused near their original place by the wall. He was breathing faster than usual and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looked really, truly alive, like when he was diving, or lost in his painting, or playing catch with Rory and the dog’s favorite old, chewed ball….

  Perry tried to pull himself together. He was spending way too much time watching Greg Ventura.

  “That’s enough dancing for me,” Greg said. He grabbed the pint he’d left on the windowsill before they’d taken to the floor, and took a long, grateful draft.

  “Has someone said something to you?” Perry was ready to fight on their behalf—

  “No. I’m just knackered.”

  Perry laughed, happily reassured. “No way. You’re the one who’s so fit. I’m the one with sea water still in his lungs from falling in the loch. There’s way too much water in this place, and it’s all out to get me.”

  Greg didn’t take his eyes from Perry’s face. They were heavy-lidded, as if sleepy. “So am I,” he said, his voice low and throaty. “All out to get you. Can we go home now?”

  Perry’s heart blipped, threw a cheer, and settled again. “I guess so. Do you want to say good-bye to anyone? I said I’d catch up soon with Lisa—she wants me to go through a wholesaler’s catalog with her, to order some hairdressing equipment. Did you know she’s a fully trained stylist? You probably do. And Marty wants to talk to you about your scallops. I think I persuaded him to take another delivery a month—”

  “Perry.” Greg’s voice was ragged. His hand tightened on Perry’s. “I need you.”

  “I…. Of course.” Perry’s breath hitched. He wondered how fast he could race back to Greg’s croft with such painfully tight briefs. The look in Greg’s eyes was hotter and more raw than anything he’d ever imagined turned in his direction.

  Alasdair’s grandson caught Perry’s eye as he crossed the floor, hand in Greg’s.

  The expression on his face was definitely disappointment.

  Chapter Twenty

  IT seemed far too many miles back to Greg’s place. Perry had worn proper shoes at the ceilidh but wisely brought his “very useful but never to be seen back in London” hiking boots for the journey to and from the croft. He still struggled to keep up with Greg’s long stride. He’d never done much exercise before now, just darting back and forth across the city with his work. Presumably two thousand steps in London’s gritty air or up and down the steps of the Tube station didn’t equate to two thousand steps in the bracingly fresh air of the Scottish Highlands. He certainly felt much fitter and more alert after only a few days here. Taking Rory for walks helped, of course. Or did Rory actually take him for the walk? It felt like it sometimes, when the dog bounded ahead, leaving Perry stepping more gingerly over the peat bog until he got a proper footing. But Rory always graciously returned when Perry called and had often alerted Perry to bad weather on its way, by diverting their path to lead more directly back to the croft. Not that Perry had any bloody idea where he was at any time anyway. Thank God the dog did. He could have done with Rory tonight, as there were no damned streetlights, and the roads were uneven, and if he lost sight of Greg he’d be lost in the middle of nowhere—

  And then Greg turned right at a low stone wall and Perry could see the cottage ahead. Greg had left a small lamp on in the window of the living room, a very welcome sight. Perry stumbled after Greg through the gate and up the garden, and fetched up behind him at the front door, giving a small whoof sound as he tried to catch his breath.

  Greg looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were shaded by the door’s overhang, hiding part of his face and creating a rather sinister look. “You okay? Did I go too fast?”

  “Never,” Perry said bravely. “I’m totally fine.”

  “Yes.” Greg smiled and cupped Perry’s cheek. “That ye are. Damned fine.”

  Perry sucked in what breath he had left and savored the touch of Greg’s palm on his skin. When Greg put his other hand to Perry’s other cheek, Perry let himself be cradled and pulled closer in. Greg’s lips were cold from the walk, but his pulse ran warmly through his kiss. Perry opened his mouth quickly, flicking his tongue against Greg’s, encouraging him in with every stroke.

  “Inside,” Greg murmured. “The nights here get cold enough to freeze off anyone’s balls, not just a brass monkey’s.” He fumbled a little with the door key but it eventually unlocked and let them into the cool, quiet cottage. They paused in the hallway.

  “You want something to drink? Eat?” Greg was obviously struggling to be a good host, but his hands were all over Perry. As Perry shrugged out of his coat, Greg was there to take it and trail his fingers over Perry’s shoulders. When Perry kicked off his boots, Greg hunkered down to help out but apparently got distracted running his hand along Perry
’s thighs.

  “Greg?” When Greg looked up, his cheeks pink from the cold night air, his eyes slightly unfocused and his lips damp, Perry reckoned he’d never seen such a beautiful sight. “I’m not hungry. Not for food, anyway.”

  “Jesus,” Greg muttered, straightening up. “What am I saying? I’m a clumsy arse, I’m way out of practice with this—”

  “Shut up.” And Perry kissed him hard, quickly, to make the point stick. “This isn’t about saying or doing the right thing. We just do what we want, right?”

  “Right,” Greg said dumbly. He’d rested his hands back on Perry’s hips and was reaching for more kisses as if Perry was a magnet he couldn’t resist. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Perry flushed. He’d never been so… he searched for the right word. Appreciated. That was it. No one had ever looked at him like Greg did—without artifice, without calculation, without one eye on how they were looking themselves. There was just desire, and need, and that very sincere appreciation. Perry was too used to men who schemed, manipulated, and generally fucked you over. Greg was an honest bloke, without pretension, without manners too, unfortunately, but Perry could work on that….

  Greg kissed him, hot and wet with lots of tongue, and Perry stopped worrying about working on anything except that.

  They stumbled up the stairs to Greg’s bedroom, acting like schoolboys, giggling and peeling off their clothes until they were in their briefs, flicking balled-up socks at each other and grabbing for any hold they could get. Perry couldn’t remember having such fun with a lover! Then, in the quiet, dim room, they both dropped their underwear, and business grew more serious.

  “Lights on?” Perry whispered.

  Greg only grunted in reply, but it was definitely a no. The moonlight through the curtains gave a silvery aura to the bedroom furniture rather than full illumination, but the atmosphere it cast was magical. Greg’s kisses now pushed more than caressed, and his breath shortened. Perry felt an equivalent tension, his arms aching to hold Greg, his legs ready to part around Greg’s hips. Mustn’t rush things—

  But it was impossible not to. They tumbled down onto the bed together, kissing hard and greedily. Perry shivered with delight at the feel of Greg’s hardened cock thrusting against his hip. Greg’s skin was hot, yet the hair on his torso was slightly damp after the walk home, creating a delicious tickle against Perry’s nipples. He could barely move, trapped inside Greg’s embrace, could do nothing but arch with pleasure under the fierce kisses, thrusting his own erection against Greg’s belly, begging wordlessly for relief.

  “Oh. Oh.” Greg groaned in his ear. “Jesus. Clumsy. Sorry—!”

  “Uh? No. Don’t be.” Perry was startled to hear his own voice so hoarse. “It’s good. It’s great.”

  Greg chuckled, which morphed into another groan. “All the time, dancing, holding on to you….”

  “What? What about it?”

  “Wanted this,” Greg hissed. His voice sounded so broken, Perry didn’t feel bad about his own hoarseness. “Wanted to kiss you again. Touch this.” He dipped his head and tongued the small bar threaded through Perry’s left nipple.

  Perry yelped loudly, and every nerve he had clenched up. “Fuck!”

  “That sensitive, eh? I always wondered.”

  “Not… always,” Perry ground out. Greg held him very tightly, that was why playing with his piercing was so arousing. Wasn’t it? And the way Greg’s beard scratched over the tip of his nipple…. Oh! Greg bit gently at him, drawing the nipple and the bar in and out between his lips. Oh, hell’s bells! Perry’s cock was so hard it must have been stabbing Greg in the belly.

  “I just wanna touch all of you.” Greg sounded almost shocked at the idea. “It’s all so good, you’re so good—” He slid his hands down and cupped Perry’s arse. He dug his fingers into the flesh, tugging the cheeks slightly apart.

  “Oh, God, please.” Perry panted into Greg’s neck. His skin itched with the need to be touched like that, that was no problem! “Will you fuck me? Have you got condoms?”

  Greg stilled, his hands on Perry’s bum.

  Shit. “I’m sorry!” It was Perry’s turn to sound broken. “Too fast, I know, I know, I just really like doing it, and I really like you, I want you to—”

  Greg’s chest rumbled like an incoming storm over Perry’s splayed body. Was he laughing?

  “No. Don’t… apologize. Never! Not for that. Jesus.” Greg shifted so that he still held on to Perry, but they could look each other properly in the face. Greg was very flushed and his eyes twinkled, but his mouth was twisted in a grimace. “It’s just… I don’t.”

  Perry blinked. “Don’t have any condoms?”

  Greg flushed even more. “Um. I… get some if I’m traveling. You know? Like I said, going to the mainland. But here….”

  “Why bother? I see.” Perry rolled his eyes. The relief that Greg wasn’t rejecting him was immense.

  “Apart from the humiliation I’d suffer from Dougie and Bridie if I bought at the shop,” Greg muttered.

  Perry started to laugh.

  “Way to kill the mood,” Greg said, a little poutily.

  “Stupid arse,” Perry said fondly. “That’s not likely, is it? But I have some in my case. Let me up and I’ll grab them from my room.” He wriggled off the bed but paused for one moment to gaze happily at Greg, who had rolled onto his back on top of the duvet. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his skin, glinting in the half-light. Perry’s gaze followed the trail of hair from Greg’s broad chest down to his belly, then to the nest of pubic hair around his jutting cock. “It’s good to laugh,” Perry said softly. “Sex should be fun, not a chore. Not boring. Not unimaginative.”

  “Get back here fast,” Greg growled. He fisted a hand around his cock and began to stroke it, almost lazily. “I’ll show you imagination.”

  Perry all but ran to the spare bedroom and scrabbled in the bottom of his wash bag for lube and a condom. Then, having paused for a millisecond, he scrabbled again and pulled out another handful. Wishful thinking or wise anticipation? He’d let Greg be the judge of that.

  He padded back into Greg’s room. He registered quickly—and with a shock—that Greg was no longer on the bed. Then a hard, hot body pressed up against him from behind and hissed in his ear, “Gotcha!”

  Perry gasped, laughed, and leaned back into Greg’s grasp.

  “I only went to the bathroom,” Greg murmured into his ear. “Did you think I’d run away?”

  “You can try,” Perry said smartly. “But you wouldn’t get far. I can probably run faster than you.”

  “Aye?”

  “Yes. You wanna try it?”

  “Not right now.” Greg’s hips nudged at Perry’s arse. “Did you mean that about wanting me to fuck you?”

  “You better believe it,” Perry quipped. Oh, this was fun! He grabbed Greg’s hand and pulled him back to the bed. They had a moment’s scramble with the lube, and then Greg snatched the condom out of Perry’s hand. He paused for the slightest of heartbeats.

  “Just start slow,” Perry whispered. He wondered if Greg was nervous, or maybe less experienced than Perry imagined. Neither was a problem, of course. Nothing was, right at this moment. He wished he could implant that in Greg’s psyche too.

  Greg didn’t reply, but the grin he lifted Perry’s way was wide and wicked. He pushed Perry onto his back and ran his lubed fingers up the inside of Perry’s thigh. When they pressed gently inside, Perry yelped.

  “Too much?” Greg asked, pausing.

  “Hell, no!” Perry stretched back, lifting himself up toward Greg to encourage him. “Come on, keep going.”

  “You were right,” Greg said, firmly caressing and stretching Perry in preparation, with laughter and some amazement in his tone. “When you said you liked it.”

  Perry would have laughed too in agreement, but just about then, Greg’s cock nudged against his entrance. Perry wanted to concentrate on this: he didn’t want to miss a second. He reached up a ha
nd to grip Greg’s shoulder.

  “Okay?” Greg whispered.

  He needed reassurance, Perry realized, almost too late. “Please,” he whispered back, nodding. “I want to feel you there.”

  Greg pressed in more firmly, all the way, slowly and steadily, until his groin jutted against Perry’s. Perry bent his legs farther, making a harbor around Greg’s hips. His eyes half closed as he savored the delicious pressure. His laughter calmed and he pursed his lips, concentrating fully on Greg rocking back and forth, shifting Perry on the mattress beneath him.

  It was marvelous: so very splendid. Perry did like sex, but this time he felt something more than just the physical effect of hitting his hot button. Greg’s lips brushed his shoulder now and then, and Perry remembered the chilled heat of their kiss after the fall in the loch. When Greg gripped a hand on Perry’s arm, Perry remembered being guided across the dance floor that night. When Greg groaned above him, he glanced up and caught the glint of Greg’s deep, dark gaze on him. Perry’s heart soared.

  Oh fuck. I’ve got it bad.

  Then he shut his eyes completely and surrendered to the utter joy.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  GREG woke slowly and languorously.

  This was the kind of morning after he dreamed of: no hangover, no grumpiness, no effort required to face another bleak or troubling day. On some days, especially when he’d first moved here, he’d suffered his choice of all of those.

  This morning was delightfully different. The second he woke he could hear Perry’s breath beside him, tickling his nape. Perry was spooned up to his back, his slim thighs against Greg’s legs. One of Perry’s hands hung limply over Greg’s waist, the fingertips brushing his belly.

  It’s all about Perry.

  Greg felt a satisfaction and relief he hadn’t felt for years. Such pleasure too. They’d played for much of the night, it seemed. When he was tired, Perry had soothed him to sleep for a while. When he stirred, horny again, Perry had chuckled and met his passion with equal enthusiasm. And when he’d felt oddly sentimental, Perry had drawn him close under the covers and just hugged him. Greg hadn’t experienced such uninhibited comfort with emotions… well, ever, as far as he could remember. Tension and defensiveness had ruled his life for as long as he could recall. But last night, he realized suddenly, at no time had he worried about how he looked, good or bad. He’d stripped off and bounced about on his bloody bed and let Perry see everything he had. Happily, and—dammit—proudly.