“Nah.”
“Okay. Going for a shower.”
“Good, you’re humming a bit.”
“Hey!”
Aled flashed a grin over his shoulder, then turned the page on the notebook as he heard Gabriel go upstairs.
Dear Gabriel.
Well, why not?
Chapter Ten
Gabriel stepped down off the train and fished in his pocket for his phone.
Me: At the station :)
He sent it to both Aled and Chris, then pulled himself up on the fence to wait. He’d been waiting for their Lake District adventure to arrive for ages, so he could wait just a little bit longer. And from the text Chris had sent from Manchester Piccadilly, Gabriel guessed he’d be on the next one coming. Not like there were many trains coming up into the darkest depths of the Lake District at this time in the evening.
Chris: 10 minutes
Aled: Chris there yet?
Gabriel grinned. He’d bent Aled’s ear for hours about the trip before he’d left. All the new trails they were going to explore, all the planning Chris had done, all the excitement. And not about cycling. This felt…date-like, but not a date. It felt like a relationship. It felt like…
Like that moment when things slid from being forced and awkward and still figuring out whether they wanted each other, to a natural kind of company.
And he knew that Aled could sense it. And unlike all his stupid fears and jittery weirdness when Aled had first asked him to move in, Gabriel knew something else too.
He knew that Aled was pleased for him.
Me: Ten minutes.
Aled: Check the front pocket of your backpack.
Gabriel raised his eyebrows and shifted the pack off. The front pocket was usually empty, or reserved for rubbish out on hikes, but when he unzipped it, there was a note folded up inside, his name neatly printed on the outside.
“What the—”
Dear Gabriel,
You wanted an old romantic love note, so here it is—
Whenever you go away, you come back lit up like the surface of the sun, almost too brilliant to touch. You come back so glorious that it’s plain to see you could be anywhere, have anyone, do anything and yet every time you come back to me. You arrive talking a mile a minute about what you’ve done, the things you’ve seen, the way you feel and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen because you’re brimming over with the need to share those things with me and the desire to mix your life with mine.
There’s days I still look at you like you’re brand new, and I can’t believe I’ve navigated the turbulent waters to get to you. I know why we started, and I know why I’m still here, but there’s moments where you tip your head back on the sofa and smile, or you put your feet in my lap while you’re reading, or you invade the bathroom to sit on the edge of the bath and talk to me and I can’t fathom how I collected enough luck in a lifetime to keep you near.
And yet even as I wonder how, I never wonder why. I don’t know how I made you love me, but I know that you do. I can see it in the way you kiss me on sunny mornings, the way you smile at me when I pick you up from work, the way you turn into me in the night and wrap yourself around me, the way you wind me up with that little smirk on your face. I’ve no idea how I made you fall in love with me, but I have no doubt that it happened.
You are my world. Others may visit my world now then, perhaps even stay a while and set up their own homes in your heart. But I know I’m there, and that’s all I ever needed.
You wanted an old romantic love note, so there it was.
Aled x
Gabriel bit his lip, swallowing against a little lump in his throat. Oh, man. Christ, how did he get so lucky? A partner who loved him for who he was, and partly because of his polyamorous nature instead of in spite of it, and a new boyfriend who was sweet and fun and—
And a boyfriend.
Aled felt more like a partner than anything else. It felt oddly juvenile to stick the word boyfriend onto the relationship he had with Aled. He was older, more sombre, had a dangerous edge over that fuzzy centre. Chris was—younger, clumsier, still a little bit rough around the edges like Gabriel. He wasn’t so sure of himself. And it was fun and familiar territory, to both be out of their depth but kind of enjoying figuring out how to swim together.
And Aled loved to watch him do it.
Gabriel clutched the letter close like a lovesick moron for a second, before folding it up carefully and putting it away in his wallet as the next train rattled into the station. It was almost empty, the windows glowing empty in the twilight, and Gabriel held up his arms to the only man who clattered off it, bag on his back and bike handles between his hands.
“Hello,” Chris said.
“C’mere.”
The kiss was sharp and hard and crackling with brilliance, and Chris looked a little dazed as they parted again.
“Um,” he said. “Hello.”
“You said that,” Gabriel remarked, then laughed. “Come on. Let’s find this B&B.”
“What’s got into you?”
“Just—good day. Good day.” He patted the wallet in his pocket and allowed himself a secret smile. “Come on, let’s go. I’m not sleeping out here.”
It was cold and dark, but Chris had a knack for finding the good places. The B&B was only a short bike ride away and it glowed out of the gloom like a warm fire. They were treated to a hot dinner, the lady running the place clearly taking them for a cute straight couple and twittering about when she was young and her husband still romantic, then they were shown up to a room in the eaves of the converted cottage, with a pristine if tiny ensuite tucked away in the corner and left to their own devices.
Ordinarily, sex.
But—
“D’you mind sharing?” Chris asked awkwardly.
Gabriel almost laughed. The bed was—of course—a double, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t slept together before. In both senses of the word. But the awkward flush on Chris’ cheeks waylaid it and he cocked his head, the good mood bubbling up into a contented patience.
“Did you not book a double?”
“Twin.”
“Well, I’m game if you are,” Gabriel said and leaned forward to peck his cheek. “I’m going for a shower.”
He mulled it over under the hot water. He and Chris had only had sex a couple of times, and Chris didn’t seem to like much in the way of foreplay or even interaction. Was Chris asexual? It would make a bit of sense, really, but then, he could also just have some specialist kink. Gabriel had slept with more than one guy who liked an extremely passive partner, and it wasn’t like the stick-it-in-and-shoot-off method did nothing for Gabriel.
Mind made up, he stepped out and dried off before dropping the towel back over the rail and walking out naked. Chris, sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling through his Instagram feed, instantly averted his eyes and Gabriel climbed up on the bed behind him and looped his arms over his shoulders.
“It’s up to you,” he said softly, “but I kind of like the idea of you sleeping with me when I’m really asleep, if you know what I mean.”
Chris coughed. “Um. Like—”
“Like if you want to do something in the night, then just do it,” Gabriel said and kissed his ear. “Consider it standing consent for the whole night.”
He’d wanted to do it for a long time, but it would be a huge trigger for Aled to even attempt it and Kevin’s baseball bat of a cock would wake him up before they got anywhere near the actual sex part. Part of Gabriel thought Chris wouldn’t go for it, but a larger part of him wanted Chris to go for it.
If he liked unresponsive sex, that was.
“Up to you,” he whispered then kissed his jaw and let go. “I’m going to sleep.”
Chris coughed. “Okay.” His voice was a rasp and the contours of his trousers weren’t quite the same as usual.
Gabriel smirked, but hid it under the covers.
* * * *
There was a pressu
re all along his spine. And inside him. He was—wet? Something was—
Gabriel blinked muzzily and relaxed again. Chris. Chris was lying on his back, fucking into him in deep, rhythmic strokes. One hand was toying with his nipple ring. He didn’t know where the other one was. Chris’ entire weight was on him, the thrusts more idle rolls of the hips. The sparks of pain and pleasure from it roused Gabriel a little, and he stroked a hand down to his cock. What if he jerked off while Chris was inside? What if—
The groan in his ear and sudden shudder in Chris’ rhythm said he’d woken up too late.
For a second, the weight increased. Then Chris pulled out, and the mattress bounced. He was gone. The ensuite door closed and Gabriel rolled onto his back and spread his legs to continue playing with himself. He must have slept like the dead. He was wide open and dripping and none of it was Chris’. He must have gloved up again. Gabriel fingered some of it out and soothed his throbbing cock with it then began to jerk it harder to the thought of what had just happened.
He’d been turned over and fucked into like a sex toy. Like a breathing sex doll. What if Chris kept him for just that purpose, like one of Aled’s slave games, but long term? And not a game? They could date and they could have fun and they could be all normal on the outside, then Chris would just roll him over in bed and shove it in him without a care. That was all Gabriel was. A toy, a hole, a—
Climax hit him like a freight train. He gasped breathlessly as sense swept away in a wildfire, then sagged bonelessly into the bed when the tsunami receded into a gentle, pleasurable tide.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Goddamn.”
He was definitely doing that again.
Once his heartbeat had returned to normal, he slipped out of bed and found a pair of boxers from his overnight bag. He tapped on the bathroom door lightly and tried the handle, before slipping inside—and hesitating.
“Chris?”
Chris was standing at the sink, simply staring at himself in the mirror. Gabriel approached hesitantly and smoothed his fingers over tense shoulders.
“Did you—did you not like that?”
Chris’ jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“So…”
There was a long silence.
“It’s okay if you liked it,” Gabriel prompted gently. “I did.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why? You didn’t even get off.”
“Finished myself off,” Gabriel quipped. “And it’s not all about the orgasm. I like the feeling of someone in me, whether I get off or not.”
Chris grunted.
“What’s wrong?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just a bit…I don’t know. Confused.”
“Well, you liked it and I like—”
“Does Aled do that with you?”
Gabriel slid his arms around Chris’ waist and leaned into his back.
“No,” he said. “Aled’s got violent kinks, and it upsets him sometimes. So he doesn’t like doing anything where consent gets a bit questionable.”
“But does he—”
There was a pause.
“Does he just hold you down and—and do you? Sometimes?”
“Pretty often, yeah.”
“And you don’t—say anything, or move or…?”
Gabriel quirked his lips. “Sometimes I can’t. Gags, handcuffs, rope—it’s not always just him, me and the nearest mattress.”
Things were starting to come together in Gabriel’s head a little.
“Do you like that? When I don’t move or make a sound?”
The tension rippled up Chris’ back, and Gabriel squeezed.
“It’s fine if you do.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I am,” Gabriel said simply. “Aled likes to hurt me. Nothing wrong with it, because he has my permission to do it. Same with you. If you like me to just…I don’t know, just lie there, or not be aware you’re doing it, then that’s okay too. Because you had my permission.”
He had the vaguest sense that there was something else lurking around the edges of Chris’ mind, and it wasn’t as simple as he was making it out to be, but the tension eased a little and Gabriel kissed the centre of his back where the spine passed the shoulder blades. He couldn’t push it if Chris was still airing ideas. The final conclusion might not be anything like the early thoughts. Gabriel had slept with enough experimenters and done enough experimenting of his own to know that.
“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done?” Chris whispered.
“Eh?”
“Sexually.”
“We-ell. I didn’t do it. Does it count if I refused to do it?”
“Yeah.”
“This one guy used to suck on my tits like he was trying to drink from me. I didn’t mind that bit, but I drew the line when he wanted to get me pregnant so he could do it for real.”
Chris’ back stiffened again—but then shivered as he started to laugh.
“Seriously?”
“On my life,” Gabriel said solemnly. “He was so keen on the idea. Even said he didn’t mind if I got it aborted, as long as I’d started to produce the goods. He said if he kept drinking from me then I’d not stop lactating, so I didn’t need to actually have a baby. He offered to pay for somewhere for me to live near to where he worked and everything, like a proper sugar daddy deal, just so he could drop by and get breakfast off me every morning before work.”
“Oh my God—”
“Oh no, you want the best parts?”
Chris raised his eyebrows.
“He was married to a much younger woman and had two kids with her, but his wife thought it was weird and wouldn’t let him suck on hers. And the icing on the cake?”
“I’m scared of the icing.”
“I later ended up going out with his nephew and found out he was a reverend.”
“Ew!”
Chris finally turned around at that. He hung on, banging his face into the side of Gabriel’s and laughing like a drain. His soft cock rubbed up against Gabriel’s thigh and Gabriel wondered what its deal really was, before shoving the whole thing out of his mind.
“Come on,” he said. “I need a shower and not to be thinking about the good reverend and his breastfeeding fetish. Then do you want to head out early and hit up the first trail?”
“Sounds good.”
His arm was caught before he could step into the shower cubicle and a swift kiss dashed against his chin.
“Sorry for being weird.”
“It’s okay,” Gabriel said, and kissed back. Properly. On the mouth. “I like weird.”
“Just not…breastfeeding reverends weird.”
“Yeah, no, not that weird.”
Chris slipped out after that and left Gabriel to his shower. And as Gabriel tipped his head back under the spray, he smiled at the showerhead.
A partner who wrote him love letters. The boyfriend who was still figuring himself out. And there he was in the middle, happy with the both of them for entirely different reasons. So there was something going on in Chris’ head that he wasn’t privy to yet, so what? Gabriel was sure he’d come out of his shell eventually, and whatever it was couldn’t be all that strange, after all.
At least, he hoped not.
Because this right here was perfect, and he didn’t want a single thing to change.
Chapter Eleven
Gabriel: Treat me like a whore when I get home.
Aled raised his eyebrows and pushed back from the desk. Thank God for having his own office. Casually, he strolled to the door and closed it before sinking back down and picking up the phone. He couldn’t quite draw the blinds on the windows that surrounded him on all sides, but he could at least lock down the sound.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” he drawled, in his best don’t-you-know-who-I-am voice.
“Oh! Hi.”
“Care t
o explain yourself?”
Gabriel had been away in the Lake District with Chris since Monday and the only updates Aled had had were a couple of hillside selfies and a photo of his train ticket home with a couple of love hearts and a begging letter to be collected from Leeds train station. They were all he usually got. They were all he was expecting.
Not text messages about being a whore.
“I’m all pent-up. I need some release.”
“Chris not up to it?”
“He doesn’t like to play like you do.”
Gabriel sounded breathless. And echoing. Aled smirked. He’d been wanking in a bathroom.
“Are you in a public toilet?”
“Um. Yes.”
“You’re in some tin can on a hiking trail, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“You jerked off?”
“Y-yeah—”
Aled dropped the silky tone and sat forward to prop his elbows on the desk and poke his emails, play-acting the boredom as though Gabriel could see straight through the phone.
“Well, sounds like you have the whore act down. What d’you need me for?”
“Are you kidding?” Gabriel hissed. “Who’s never wanked in a toilet? Come on! I need more than—than—”
“That being so fucking desperate you dropped your pants in a dirty bog and fucked your own fingers, moaning like a bitch in heat?” Aled returned.
Gabriel caught his breath.
“Yeah. Definitely a whore.”
“P-please.”
“Knock it off with your please. Plenty of men in the Lake District would like a go at you if you want to act like a whore.”
“Don’t want them,” Gabriel whispered. “I want you.”
That was more like it. Aled bit back on a wide grin. He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Uh-huh. And what exactly does ‘treat me like a whore’ mean?” he asked. “That doesn’t exactly close off many options with you.”
He sat back in his chair as he spoke. When his secretary knocked on the window of his fishbowl of an office and held up a sheaf of papers that needed signing, he simply assumed a pleasant smile and mimed shooting himself in the head, then held up five fingers like he was on a boring old conference call.
The Wedding (Starting Over Book 3) Page 8