It was rollercoaster ride, a steep learning curve, crazy, sleepless, terrifying time, but one of the most fulfilling in my life. Jerry Ford ran the place, and I couldn't manage without him. He had the right combination of no-bullshit presence and warmth which was essential for dealing with desperate people. As a former city boy, I haven't yet commanded their respect but it came naturally to him. Maybe it was because he is ex-military. I didn't know, but he sure as hell has mine.
My ex-chauffeur, Ty, was extra brawn for those times when things kicked off. We had a strict no drugs/booze/grudges policy, and anyone turning up wasted was put in a quiet room to sleep it off. People knew that Ty and Jerry could flatten everyone in the room in less than five minutes, so they tended to behave.
Ty was also an expert in the kitchen. Who knew? I hadn't. His mama had taught him a few things before letting him loose in the big city. Hell, he was better at cooking than he was as a chauffeur. He even began teaching me. I'm getting better at it. I'm too light on the seasoning, though, something he continues to give me grief about.
Rob has been into the city a couple of times to have a look around the CMC. The first time I wasn't there and I was glad, because I didn't want him to see me with an apron on, up to my eyes in chile con carne. I'm not ashamed of doing it, but he would have thought that I was trying to justify myself to him. Maybe the project started that way, but by the time it came to fruition, I was 100% committed. No more designer suits and handmade shoes. It was actually a relief not to worry about what I was going to wear each morning, or how much money I was expected to make.
But let's be clear here. My newfound altruism only extended so far. I still lived in fucking luxury compared to the poor bastards I met every day. Unless I sold everything and lived in a tent, that is. But if I had given everything away, the CMC wouldn't have existed. Everyone wins. I was still the businessman and always would be. Guess it must be in the genes.
When I finally was invited up to see Rob in Freehaven the following October, I was wondering what the hell he had been thinking, buying a place that needed so much work. Within a few moments of being there, I totally got it.
I went up one Friday morning. We had been exchanging tentative emails for a few weeks, most of them painfully polite. He told me about progress on the lighthouse, and I in turn wrote about what had been happening at the CMC. Once, in a moment of weakness, I sent him a Lana Del Ray CD, highlighting the song Blue Jeans, and a letter that was little more than verbal vomit, saying I was sorry, I was an asshole, that he meant everything to me, I would love him forever. That kind of thing. Yeah, I was embarrassed afterwards, and he said nada. Not one fucking word about it. No doubt he felt as awkward as I did, yet I didn't apologise afterwards. I stood by every word I had written. In return, he gave me fuck all. No subtext in his emails, no drunken ramble saying how I had ruined his life. Not that I had, but I was expecting some fucking thing to acknowledge what we had before was real.
Then out of the blue, he said that the shipment with all his possessions was arriving very shortly from England, and he would need help moving in properly. For the first time in months, he would be able to sleep on a decent bed. Would I mind giving him a hand?
I thought about it for all of two seconds.
His possessions didn't amount to much, so unpacking didn't take very long. It was mostly moving pieces of furniture around, deciding what would look best where. We worked tirelessly; there was too much to do for conversation to lag. He told me where to put things and I did as I was told.
There had been times in the last few emails (before my verbal vomit) that had I had sensed him thawing towards me. Not weakening. I had never seen him as the weaker one. That role was mine alone. It was more that he was trying me out for size, starting with an "x" by his name, and progressing to "love, Rob xxx." There were a few comments that sounded slightly flirtatious, however many times I read them to make sure I hadn't been imagining it, and one starting with "when you come up here..." Although I wanted desperately to take advantage of these overtures, I dared not, lest I had misinterpreted them. After the verbal vomit, the kisses continued but did not increase. That was something, I guessed.
So I drove up there when the morning was still dark, and arrived at a respectable 8.30 in the morning. As we worked on that late October day, I asked him again about his books, which were selling well on Amazon. He had switched genres from steampunk to horror, and man, did he ever have a sick sense of humour. It was one more thing I loved about him. Scared me a bit too, that my angel could think such things. You see? I'm definitely the weaker one.
In the end he had decided not to find an agent for his family novel. Having completed it, and given what he now knew, he didn't feel it was appropriate. Maybe one day he will change his mind. He is a brilliant writer, far better than he realises.
For the next two days we worked side by side. I dug the yard, washed up, did all those things I had avoided for the first thirty-five years of my life because I had staff to do it for me. It was fun. More fun than I thought possible. If this was ordinary, I could take it.
The first night felt awkward. I slept on the couch and he was in a sleeping bag up in the bedroom. I lay awake for a long time, waiting for the creak of footsteps on old floorboards, but they didn't come. I remembered that morning when I had woken alone and he had been cooking breakfast, clad only in my underwear. That day seemed far away. To get back to that closeness seemed impossible.
It was late the following afternoon by the time we heaved his mattress up the stairs to his bedroom. I collapsed upon it with a sigh and closed my eyes. As weary as I was by our exertions that day, only one thought crowded my mind.
Please, Rob. Just get on the bed with me and allow me to love you. Please, please...
Nothing. I opened my eyes and saw him standing by the window, looking out towards the sea.
'Where did you put the bed linen?' He asked, somewhat brusquely.
'Uh, in that cupboard.' I scrambled off the bed, not wanting him to think I was hoping for any intimacy. 'I'll go down and light the fire.''
In the lounge, I built up the fire in the wood-burner as he had shown me the night before. I could hear him upstairs, making up the bed. Great. And I'd be on the fucking couch again, if he deigned to let me stay. I could feel my temper rising with my frustration. What was it going to take for him to realise how sorry I was for my crass error?
Moodily, I lit the fire and closed the glass door. Night was drawing in and the glow from the flames illuminated the soft rug in front of it. He had furnished the room with comfort in mind, rather than high style. It was a world away from the chic penthouse apartment I had lived in, but I liked it. I felt at home there.
It was a dangerous thought, and I thrust it away as I went back down into the kitchen to find some wine. It was a bit early in the afternoon but I didn't care. I needed the alcohol to dull the pain of more fucking rejection.
On the way, I prodded Play on the iPod dock, thinking some music might fill the silence. Lana's smoky vocals filled the room. How fucking ironic that the song I had sent to him came on exactly at that moment. What were the odds?
I opened the large refrigerator door. He had stocked it well, with Lanson champagne, smoked salmon, steak. He wasn't going to go hungry, that was for sure. I hoped he would enjoy his house-warming meal all by himself because I wasn't going to spend another night on that uncomfortable hunk of furniture, nursing a hard-on and too stubborn to jerk off.
I slammed the fridge again, and nearly jumped out of my skin.
He was standing behind the door.
'I've played that song every damned day since you sent it to me,' he said.
Before I could speak, he had pulled me into his arms and was kissing me as if I was the last man on earth. I lifted him onto the work surface so we were face to face, our lips still locked. The small whimpers of pleasure could have come from either of us. I couldn't tell.
Suddenly, he thrust me away and leapt off the kitc
hen top, beckoning to me as he headed for the stairs. Still, he said nothing. I stumbled after him like a blind man, my cock rigid in my pants, my eyes glued to his perfect, denim-clad ass. I wanted to push him down on the stairs and take him right then but he swatted me away.
'I'm calling the shots,' he said over his shoulder, and I could do nothing but follow him.
In the living room, by the light of the fire, he peeled my tee-shirt away and unbuttoned my jeans. I was almost embarrassed by the strength of my erection as he watched me step out of them. As soon as I was naked he pushed me down on the rug and removed his own shirt, all the while smiling slightly. I did not trust that smile. He was planning something. I just knew it.
Naked apart from his glasses, he knelt on the rug and lay close along the length of my body, trapping my arm between us. He moved my other arm up over my head and held my wrist firmly as he kissed me again. He tenderly bit my lower lip and flickered his tongue along my teeth, tasting and testing. The kiss became deeper as I opened up to him, allowing his tongue to roam at will in my mouth. Through the surround sound system, Lana's voice smoothed over us like molten chocolate. Rob moved one knee over to trap me on the floor. I could feel the solid length of his hard-on against my thigh, the dampness of pre-seminal fluid. For once, I felt vulnerable, at his mercy.
'Rob ...'
'Be quiet.' He kissed my lips, my nose, my forehead. All the while, he had one cool hand wrapped around my shaft. My hips lifted and a soft whimper escaped my throat. I needed him so badly by that point. All the weeks of hoping and waiting had concentrated my lust to the point I was ready to blow.
As if sensing it, he shifted to straddle my body, his large, hairless balls pressing against my own. He held my wrists tightly to the floor and examined my face. There was a strange gleam in his eye that had not been there before. He had changed in many ways in the last few months, and the man before me was a lot more confident than the one who had fallen asleep in the Audi, over a year before. I had underestimated his temper, ferocious when he snapped, the power behind his punch. I was wary of him, and that made him more exciting than ever.
'I'm going to take you tonight,' he said neutrally. I could feel his hard-on pressing against my stomach, vying for dominance with my own.
'I always go on top,' I said calmly. It wasn't negotiable, as far as I was concerned, yet my heart was thumping at new possibilities. Rob was a top? Really?
His eyes narrowed. 'What are you afraid of, Lex? My father claimed your ass. Now it belongs to me.'
And just like that, I crumbled. I wanted him to claim me. I wanted his body all over mine. My eyes drooped closed as he kissed me again, an open, pornographic kiss that set every nerve ending on fire. I was totally in love with this man. He could do anything he wanted with me and I would take it. Take it and revel in it.
'I'll be gentle with you,' he said as he moved away, taking off his glasses and putting them on the coffee table.
'Leave them on.'
'No.' He turned me over and separated my buttocks, running his tongue up the furrow of my ass. He did it again, lingering around my tight, rosy hole.
'Keep doing that,' I rasped.
'That's the last order you're giving me tonight.' He flicked at my puckered hole, making it soaking wet and blowing cool breaths upon it before spreading my legs wide. He knelt between them, his hand tight on my rigid shaft. I felt the heat of his tongue tracing the delicate ridge between my balls and hole. At his insistent probing, I forced myself to relax and open up for him, my body flexing and tensing as he tongue-fucked me with a confidence I never dreamed he could possess.
'Are you ready, Lex?' He whispered in my ear. I was dizzy with the smell of aroused, musky male, our aromas mingling on his breath. My nostrils flared as I tried to grasp more of that delicious scent. I couldn't speak. All power had seeped into one hard organ, trapped in his hand. As he positioned the slicked-up head of his cock against my opening, I felt as tight as a virgin.
'Oh god,' I whimpered as he eased inside me. He stroked my flank and murmured gentle words as I became used to the intrusion. Hell, he felt BIG. I hadn't felt anything like that since his father had broken me in, years before.
'That's it,' he crooned. 'How does that feel?'
I squirmed against him. 'Wonderful.'
'Good.' The word was a grunt as he rammed himself into me, ball-deep. I screamed at the shock and pain as he withdrew and did it again. As he slapped my ass and pinched it hard, I understood he was punishing me for my transgressions. Every time he did it, the pain melted into pleasure and my excitement grew.
'God, I love it,' I panted as he continued to rain blows on my backside, fucking my ass so hard, I had to hold on to the edge of the rug to stop him from propelling me across the floor.
'Hurt me, Rob. Please. Please!'
And he did. Oh God, how he did, pulling my hair, pinching and smacking my ass until it burned and fucking the heart and soul out of me. He pulled both my hands behind my back and held them firm whilst he continued to ream me. With my face pushed into the rug I could do nothing but take what he was giving to me. This was my beloved, hard-core Rob, making me pay for my lies and stupidity, punishing me from the inside out. I could feel the burn in my stressed arm muscles, the strain in my legs as I braced myself against his assault. It seemed to go on forever before he pulled away, still rampantly hard. He slapped my ass once more and told me to turn over so I did, revealing to him the hot, tight erection that was threatening to explode.
'You're enjoying yourself too much,' he said coldly. He sat back on the sofa, his legs spread wide, and snapped his fingers. I obediently scrambled over to kneel at his feet.
'Suck me,' he ordered.
It was something I had always avoided before, sucking a cock which had just been buried in someone's ass, but at my hesitation he grasped my chin and forced me to look at him. His face was a mask of angry desire.
'Do it,' he spat. 'You're mine, Lexington Black. You do whatever I want, whenever I want, and you don't fucking argue about it.'
I stared again at the swollen organ in front of my lips, and felt an ever more urgent rush of lust.
'Yes, Sir,' I muttered thickly.
'Hands behind your back. Don't you dare touch yourself.'
'No, Sir.' I did as I was told and eased my lips over his musky, sticky cock. He shuddered with pleasure as I deep-throated him. He used both hands to hold my head whilst he skull-fucked me so hard that my lips hurt and I could barely breathe. My cock was cruelly out of my reach but he did not care. He brutally used me until he exploded deep in my mouth, making me gag on his spunk. I swallowed it down yet some oozed over my lips, slicking up his cock so he could push even further down my throat.
After he was done, he was flushed with exertion and his eyes were bright. My lips were tender, my face sticky and glistening with semen and saliva. We embraced and kissed savagely, sharing his copious load. He stuck two fingers in my mouth to coat them in the slippery substance and reached down to lubricate his own ass.
'I want you inside me.'
I didn't have to be told twice. We moved so he was on his back, his legs hooked over my shoulders. I eased gratefully into him, noting his sexy gasp as he felt the heft of my prick. He twined his arms around my neck and I moved us back to the rug, positioning us so that I was on top. I was ready to shoot but I wanted to give that sexy fucker his just deserts after what he had just done to me. I thrust hard and deep, slamming against his prostate, making him catch his breath. It was no good, though. I couldn't hold it. He bit his lip and sighed my name, knowing both would drive me mad, and my orgasm rushed through me like an express train. I roared as I nailed him to the floor, stretching him to the absolute limit, his hot cries driving me to the edge of insanity.
When I was spent I collapsed in his arms, sobbing with joy. He hushed me, stroking my hair.
'It's alright, baby. Everything is alright now,' he whispered, kissing my face, damp with sweat and tears. We lay quiet in the d
ark, listening to the distant sound fishing boats sailing out into the Sound, and our hearts beat as one.
EPILOGUE
When Rob woke early on Christmas Day, he thought he was still dreaming. For a start he was in a strange place. The bed was wide, the room luxurious, redolent with the scent of lilies.
A hotel.
Then he looked to his left, saw the sleeping man and felt the warmth of his skin against his own. Relief rushed through him. It wasn't a dream, then. He really had married Lex on Christmas Eve, and the evidence was there, sprawled naked on his front, tangled in the sheets. It was just like Lex to make the bed look as if he had been wrestling bears all night, when in fact they had collapsed onto the mattress in an exhausted heap and gone straight to sleep.
Then reality hit Rob like a lightning bolt.
He was a married man again. The ring on his finger confirmed it. White platinum, inset with black diamonds. It was a perfect fit, rather like him and Lex. Not sure how that happened but it definitely was not a dream. A gamble, perhaps, but one worth taking.
It had not been what one could possibly call a typical gay wedding. There were no white fur coats, swans or Liza Minelli. It was a strange mix of Rob's family, including Geri and Simon, Roger and Tony, an Christopher, Silvy and the twins, and drag queens, as well as everyone from the Charles Martyn Centre.
In fact, the venue was the CMC. By mutual consent, Rob and Lex decided they didn't want to get married anywhere else. Jerry and Ty had festooned the place with white and pink balloons and streamers, and had roasted three enormous joints of beef and three turkeys. The smell of it, plus the bitter cold, had attracted every hobo in the city, so it seemed. So, surrounded by the smell of cooking meat and potatoes, and the underlying aroma of unwashed bodies, Rob and Lex had said their vows. Afterwards, Caressa climbed up on one of the tables in her precarious heels and sung "Falling In Love Again," before falling off the table. Luckily, Justin was there to catch her.
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