Don't You Want Me

by Liam Livings

  “Very much so.” Tony smiled.

  As they left the hotel, Nick said to Tony, “Is it going to get noticed that we’re both not going to this thing and were spotted leaving together?”

  “Possibly. Probably. But we’re committed now, so I think we should keep calm and carry on.”

  “Just like your mug at work,” Nick replied.

  Tony nodded and pulled out his phone, searching—Nick presumed—for local restaurants before proclaiming rather confidently and—Nick allowed himself to note—attractively, “This way,” as he strode off along the pavement.

  Nick liked that about Tony. The way he appeared quite disorganised and scatty, but at work, he was decisive, confident and calm—three qualities Nick hoped he’d soon have as a social worker.

  And he was also a good kisser. A very good kisser. Nick had needed to use all his willpower to stop himself going further that afternoon, not wanting to rush into anything—whatever the thing was they found themselves in.

  Once at the restaurant, a pizza chain, Nick asked if Tony wanted to share a bottle of wine, and without any pause, Tony agreed.

  Nick had expected Tony to perhaps play footsie, but surprisingly, Tony’s feet remained firmly under his side of the table.

  “So we have two more days left, is that right?” Nick asked between mouthfuls of pizza.

  “One more,” Tony corrected. “And we’re doing a presentation at the team huddle on Friday about our key learning points from the conference.”

  “Are we?” Nick frowned, suddenly worried that he’d not picked up enough to cover a two-sentence email, never mind a presentation. Unless they wanted to know what Tony looked like almost naked or how Tony kissed in such a way it made Nick’s nerves tingle and his body long to fuck. Fucking Tony in the shower had been a rather vivid dream Nick had enjoyed that morning, waking with an erection he’d not known what to do with.

  But that wasn’t the sort of learning their huddle would want to hear about. Oddly enough. “What should we tell them? And also, can we just talk about why it’s called a huddle and not a team meeting?”

  Tony laughed, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out so one foot touched Nick’s, sending a shiver up his leg. “‘Meeting’ implies there will be no useful outcomes from it. However, a huddle implies a more collaborative experience, with all members contributing and taking learning from the interaction.” Tony’s face remained serious.

  “Did you just read that from somewhere?”

  “Memorised it. In fact, I think it was me they asked to review the team meetings. I may have actually come up with that bullshit myself a few years ago—yes, it’s all coming back to me. I picked it up at one of these conferences and recommended we change how we meet. So—” he shrugged “—there you have it.”

  Avoiding his gaze, Nick said, “But you call it bullshit still?”

  “There’s bullshit and there’s bullshit in this business. The trick is learning to work out the differences between the two.”

  “And how do you do that?”

  Tony tapped the side of his nose with a finger. “Judgement, practice, experience.”

  Nick realised he could equally apply those three to relationships and whether a boyfriend would turn out to be good or bad news. The sad thing was, Nick often didn’t make the right judgements at the right time, nor did his experience always get acted upon. As for practice—well, he’d been dating since sixteen, so that was over half his life now, yet he still couldn’t spot a wildly unsuitable man when he saw one. Nor could he spot a man who’d be perfect for him. “Thanks for asking if I could come with you to this.”

  Tony smiled, then looked away for a moment before taking another slice of pizza from the plate in the middle of the table. He shrugged. “Made sense. Newly qualified—you can learn a lot from this.”

  “Or I could have felt out of my depth and lost.”

  Frowning, Tony put his hand on Nick’s. “You haven’t, have you?”

  Nick shook his head. “Not for one moment.” Except when we’re in the hotel room together. He allowed the thought to float into his consciousness. “Shall we get the pudding to take away and then we can eat it in bed?” The together was implied in that sentence, but Nick knew they both understood.

  “Good idea,” Tony replied, raising his glass.

  Nick wanted to finish what they’d started with the kisses earlier, only he didn’t want to continue snogging like teenagers. He wanted to take charge, sensing Tony had to be in charge for so much of his working day that he’d enjoy someone else doing so in the bedroom. He wanted to lead Tony through a sexy evening neither of them would forget and both would want to repeat. So how to do that without needing to discuss?

  “Good kisser,” Tony said. “That’s one of my key learning points from the conference. I always thought you would be, since the last time. But now I know for certain that you are a great kisser.”

  Please don’t start talking about what that means, whether we’re going to go beyond that, Nick told himself. He’d had enough of thinking about feelings and discussing relationships with the ex. And look at where that had got them.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” Nick signalled for the bill, and they were soon walking back, holding hands in a dangerous yet exciting gesture.

  ***

  Once back at the hotel room, Tony laid out their desserts of profiteroles, cream and chocolate sauce on a tray on the bed, then sat by the pillows.

  Toeing off his shoes and removing his jacket, Nick joined him, taking a spoon and scooping up a mouthful.

  Tony watched Nick enjoying the squashy, chocolatey, creamy goodness, chewing with his eyes closed.

  “Tuck in,” Nick said, then, pausing to stare at Tony, added, “Unless you’d like me to feed it to you?”

  Tony almost shivered with anticipation at the prospect of both a sweet treat and Nick taking charge. Not wanting to give too much of himself away, he simply shrugged and said, “If you want. I can feed myself.” He reached for the spoon on the tray and was about to fill it with the dessert when Nick took his hand and looked into his eyes.

  Tony saw the deep brown of Nick’s eyes, the few specks of cream and chocolate around Nick’s mouth, little pieces on his stubble, and he wanted to kiss him. So. Damned. Much.

  But no; he must remain calm, not too enthusiastic, because otherwise Nick would realise how much Tony wanted this—wanted Nick, wanted everything about them.

  Tony pulled his hand back and surrendered himself, opening his mouth as Nick filled it with a spoonful of profiterole, chocolate and cream.

  “Good?” Nick asked, taking a mouthful for himself. Tony nodded, opening his mouth to show he wanted more.

  Nick slowly fed him another two spoonfuls before saying, “Feeling a bit left out here. I’m not that into the pastry, but the cream and chocolate, I love.”

  Tony noticed a naughty twinkle in Nick’s eye, and after another mouthful of food, he swallowed, then moved closer and kissed Nick.

  “Chocolatey,” Nick said with obvious enjoyment.

  Feeling bolder and satisfied now his bowl was empty, Tony gently pushed Nick back on the bed and held the pot of chocolate sauce aloft over Nick’s chest, raising an eyebrow in question.

  Nick wordlessly nodded and licked his lips. “Hang on.” He quickly undid the buttons on his shirt and slipped it over his head.

  Tony was faced with the sight of Nick now lying on his back, his arms above his head, a hairy chest, hairy armpits and a big smile on his face. He thought for a moment—until he remembered he wasn’t eighteen any longer—that he might come right there and then. But thankfully, he didn’t.

  Gently, he dribbled the chocolate sauce over Nick’s chest, across his nipples, down the middle into his navel. Nick laughed, giggling at the coldness probably but smiling in pleasure back at Tony.

  Conscious of getting his shirt dirty, he shrugged it off then began working his way with his tongue from Nick’s neck and from one nipp
le to the other, licking the chocolate sauce away, teasing each nipple in turn before moving down, down, until he reached Nick’s navel. There, the musky scent, distinctively Nick, mixed with the sweetness of chocolate, had Tony adjusting his position for comfort as his erection strained inside his trousers. Pausing to look at Nick once more, locking eye contact, he dipped his head and licked, sucked and kissed Nick’s navel and hairy belly until no more chocolate sauce remained.

  Tony noticed the bulge in Nick’s trousers and as he looked up again the longing in his eyes.

  Unbuttoning Nick’s trousers, Tony released Nick’s erection, and it sprang loose, standing proud among a dark nest of hairs.

  God, Nick was hairy. Christ, Tony found it sexy. Jesus, Tony was enjoying this.

  He leant forward, and his mouth was inches from Nick’s straining erection when he felt Nick’s hands moving in. He paused to look up; Nick was shaking his head and pulling Tony away.

  Not sure what to do, Tony sat upright again. “What’s wrong?”

  Nick said nothing but instead moved Tony so he was lying on his back, and in one swift movement, he removed Tony’s trousers and underwear, so now he was lying naked on the bed.

  Nick knelt with a leg either side of Tony’s body, pressing Tony’s hands above his head, so he couldn’t move under Nick’s weight.

  ***

  Nick looked down at Tony. The smile he’d had earlier when attending to Nick’s needs had doubled. Nick had been right: Tony did want him to take charge; it was just that he’d never have asked. Relishing his position, weight and strength over Tony, Nick pinned him to the bed for a moment, watching how much more turned on Tony became.

  A lot.

  Edging upwards on Tony’s body, Nick pressed his cock into Tony’s mouth, then thrust in, and out, before gaining some momentum, face-fucking Tony, who gasped and gabbled in pleasure at being used in this way.

  When he didn’t think the pleasure could get any better, Nick suddenly stopped, holding himself and Tony on the edge of release.

  Sliding back down Tony’s body, he paused when he reached Tony’s straining cock. A cock, he realised, Tony hadn’t been able to touch since they’d started having sex, as Nick had pinned Tony’s hands to the bed.

  Brushing Tony’s cock against his own balls and arse, Nick gently moved backwards, rubbing himself on Tony’s straining, leaking cock, enjoying Tony’s gasps of pleasure. Nick was about to jump off the bed to collect the condom and lube, ready for what he wanted to do to Tony next when he felt Tony shuddering and gasping and his legs kicking, and then a wetness around his arse and balls that told Nick it was all over—for Tony at least.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking mortified.

  Doing his best to keep a straight face and ignoring the slight dribble running down the inside of his leg, Nick threw a pair of underpants to Tony so he could clean himself up.

  Chapter 4

  Tony wanted the earth to open up and swallow him.

  Whole.

  He quickly cleaned himself up and then, avoiding Nick’s eyes, rolled off the bed and ran into the bathroom, where he locked the door and stared at his reflection, shaking his head at the flushed, post-sex glow across his face, combined with a look of embarrassment at literally shooting his load before he’d wanted to.

  Bollocks.

  A knock on the door returned Tony from his thoughts—ideas about jumping out of the window, never being able to speak to Nick again about what had made that happen.

  “All right?” Nick asked from the other side of the door.

  “Yep, be with you in a minute.” Tony put on the white bathrobe and pulled it around himself.

  After a few moments, he opened the door to find Nick standing naked and still very much turned on, with a cheeky grin and his hands on his waist.

  “Oh, sorry! I forgot. You never… I mean… I sort of lost it all when I…but you’re… I see, yes you are. Shall I? Or do you want some alone time?” Turning away, Tony walked towards the wardrobe. “I’ll just throw something on and leave you to it.” Frantically, he flicked through the shirts for something to wear, for something to push a button that meant he was no longer here, feeling like a total idiot.

  “You had fun. That’s the main thing. I’ve never…no one else…like that before. I mean, I feel like Superman or something.”

  He looked pretty much like Superman from where Tony was standing, but he said nothing then blurted, “I knew this was a mistake,” before he’d had chance to think. Because by saying there was a ‘this’, he was acknowledging what they’d done was a ‘thing’ and therefore something to be discussed.

  Big mistake.

  “This?” Nick gestured to the messy room with clothes strewn everywhere, chocolate stains on the bed and a come-soaked pair of underpants on the floor. “Fun, is all this is.” Pulling on a T-shirt and underwear, Nick led Tony back to the bed, where they finished the bowl of Nick’s profiteroles—no chocolate sauce as it had already been used.

  They fell asleep with Tony resting his head on Nick’s chest and trying to think of a way to explain what had happened but failing.

  ***

  The next morning was the final day at the conference, so once showered and dressed, they checked out of the room, leaving their suitcases at Reception. Nick hadn’t mentioned what had happened last night to Tony because there wasn’t anything to mention. OK, so Nick had gone to sleep with a certain amount of blue balls, having been really turned on and then not coming, but the rest of the night had been great fun. The meal, the sex, the cuddles afterwards.

  As they walked back to the basement where the conference took place, Nick leant forward and whispered in Tony’s ear, “I want you to make me come like that,” and with a wave, left for the sessions they’d agreed he would cover alone that morning.

  ***

  Tony couldn’t believe he’d heard that. Had he?

  During the morning, Tony had a brief text conversation with Kieran about the terrible sex mistake, not sharing any details, during which Kieran told him not to be so stupid, it couldn’t be that bad and said he wished he’d had that much fun at a work conference.

  Although true, it didn’t make Tony feel any less useless.

  Then he and Nick met in Reception to get a taxi to the train station.

  “Let’s talk staff huddle on the train, OK?” Tony suggested, keen to continue talking but to avoid anything about last night.

  Nick nodded as they stepped into the taxi.

  ***

  On the train, they talked about who would cover which bits of the staff huddle presentation and how they’d make themselves sound like they’d been networking their arses off the whole time, rather than mainly spending time with each other.

  “What should we do about the room thing?” Nick asked.

  “I’m going to mention it. Otherwise, if someone finds out, it’ll look funny we didn’t mention it. If I say it, it looks like we’re making a joke of it and so it’s nothing. If we hide it, that’s suspicious.”

  Nick sensed in the pauses in conversation that Tony wanted to talk about last night but didn’t know where to start or how, since they were sitting in a quite busy train carriage. The way Tony kept starting to say things and then stopping; the glances to either side at other passengers—but Nick wasn’t going to mention it because he couldn’t have cared less. Last night had been fun. The whole conference had been enjoyable and useful. What happened now with their friendship was unsure, but Nick was OK with that, he realised, as they shared an awkward hug goodbye when they reached Salisbury station for their separate taxis home.

  Standing next to his taxi, Tony said, “I’ll…see you tomorrow, then?”

  “You will, then,” Nick replied, about to get into his taxi. “But I don’t think you should mention us sharing a room. No one’s going to know what we did. If anyone asks, style it out and say it wasn’t a big deal. One of us slept on the sofa.”

  “One conversation I could do without having with Ba
rbara, so that’s a bonus. OK.” Tony swallowed, taking a breath, obviously considering if he should say something, then said, “It’s not going to be awk—”

  “Not at all.” Nick waved goodbye and left Tony standing outside the taxi until, checking in the mirror, Nick saw him getting in his car too.

  ***

  Once home, Tony greeted his parents, who were meditating in cross-legged silence on beanbags in the living room, and went to his bedroom to unpack his suitcase. Thirty-six wasn’t quite what he’d imagined it would be, he decided as he emptied his clothes into the laundry basket.

  Thirty-six, if asked when he’d been eighteen, would have involved his own flat in London, with his own boyfriend and a dog. A little fluffy dog had always seemed to feature large in his fantasies, and a husband, actually—a guy a few years older than him, maybe ten or so—older, wiser and more solvent. And, he reflected as he confirmed nothing urgent on his work phone, he’d spent most of the intervening eighteen years looking for that. Looking in all the wrong places.

  Unsurprisingly, looking for married or attached men in dating apps hadn’t resulted in a stable boyfriend.

  A brief period after university, living in Brighton with a man in his early forties, had been fun, and had been, Tony had thought at the time, the start of independence, leaving home—until it had all ended when the boyfriend had got bored of Tony and found another even younger boy toy, telling him, “You didn’t really think we were serious, did you?”

  And that, Tony realised as he returned downstairs to join his parents, who were now making dinner, had been a mistake he’d repeated all too often.

  “Good time?” Mum asked, looking up from chopping carrots.

  “Knackered.” Sitting at the table, he rested his head on his hands. “Can’t believe I’ve actually got to go in tomorrow. Can’t they give me a break?”

  “Adulting,” Dad said, with a laugh. “It’s damned hard, isn’t it?”

  “I know, right?” Tony replied, thinking he’d just rest his eyes for a moment.

  Later, when Tony had woken from his brief doze, and they were eating dinner, Dad asked what the best bit of the conference had been.