Strays

by Garrett Leigh

  Heat surged through Nero, his cock harder than it had ever been. He drove against Lenny again and again, a coil of pressure growing in his belly as Lenny’s teeth grazed his lips, then moved to his neck, nipping and biting, savaging the tender flesh at the juncture of his collarbone.

  Nero gasped. Lenny took advantage of his distraction and toppled him over, hooking his arm under Nero’s knee and raising his leg to his chest. The challenge in Lenny’s eyes was clear—daring Nero to fight him and roll them again—but Nero didn’t. Why would he, when having Lenny bearing down on him, dry-fucking him, was the best feeling in the world?

  He threw his head back, arching his hips into Lenny, their cocks grinding together, scraping and rubbing. The sensation was dizzying and addictive, and Nero couldn’t imagine how he’d ever stop. He brought his arms around Lenny, caging him, searching out his mouth, and swallowing his cries.

  Groaning, Lenny kissed him back and rocked forward, and Nero reared up like a starving man. He pulled his lips from Lenny’s and sank his teeth into Lenny’s neck. It felt almost wrong to be so rough with Lenny’s delicate flesh, but as Lenny’s thrusts got sharper, his moans deeper, Nero realised there was nothing delicate about the man who was making his head spin . . . and his cock weep.

  God, I’m gonna come.

  Nero tore his mouth from Lenny’s neck. “Lenny—”

  But his choked exclamation was cut off as Lenny scrambled back and shoved Nero’s boxers away, freeing his cock. He wriggled out of his own, then spit on his hand and closed his fist around both of them. Nero watched their cocks glide together, mesmerised, but there was no time to enjoy it. Orgasm crept up on him, and then it rushed him, tearing out of him so sweetly it almost hurt, and he came with a low cry, spilling over Lenny’s hand.

  “Fuck.” Lenny thrust hard against Nero’s still throbbing cock, once more . . . twice, and then he came too, his moan so carnal Nero almost climaxed again.

  It went on forever. Nero trembled and shook, chasing breaths that didn’t seem to be there, all the while clutching at Lenny like a life raft.

  Lenny responded in kind, smearing the sticky mess of sweat and come between them, his slim shoulders heaving. “Oh God, you have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you then.”

  Nero chuckled hoarsely, his throat dry and raw. “Ditto.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t tease me, mate. Let me have my fantasies.”

  “I’m not teasing you.”

  Lenny abruptly sat up, his hair a wild mess like Nero had never seen. “What does that mean?”

  “Erm . . . I don’t know? What are you asking me?”

  “Whatever you’re trying to tell me.”

  “Oh man, don’t do that.” Nero scrubbed a hand through his damp hair. “You know I’m shit at this. Just ask me? I’ll answer, I promise.”

  Lenny fell silent, trailing a fingertip along Nero’s still-twitching dick, grinning at Nero’s shiver. “You’re giving me the impression that you want to bottom, but my brain’s telling me that’s too good to be true.”

  “Your brain’s wrong.” Every sexual thought Nero had ever had replayed in his mind at hyperspeed, confirming what his heart already knew. “I wasn’t sure I’d get as far as shagging a fella, but whenever I’ve imagined it, I’ve always kinda been on the bottom.”

  “‘On the bottom.’” Lenny repeated the words like he’d dreamt them. “Jesus.”

  Nero shifted, suddenly aware of how much he’d exposed himself. “Is that a bad thing?”

  Lenny’s head snapped up. “What? No! God, no, I’m just . . . shocked, I suppose, that you’re so cool about it.”

  “About what? Liking dick or getting fucked?”

  “Both?”

  Nero snorted. “I’ve had plenty of time to get used to liking dick, mate. And as for getting fucked, I dunno. I guess it just feels right.”

  Lenny frowned, apparently still nonplussed.

  Nero touched his face. “What is it? You don’t top?”

  “Fuck, no. I top, trust me—Jesus, I top. It’s more, I don’t know . . . I had it in my head that you’d be kind of uptight about fucking. I mean, I’m not being rude, mate, but you’re uptight about everything else.” A faint hint of Lenny’s impish grin lightened the mood.

  Nero rolled his eyes. “Am not.”

  “Yeah, you are, so I figured you’d be some kind of power top, fucking my brains out to ease your frustration.”

  The idea had legs. Nero pictured it and bit his lip, but he couldn’t escape the craving deep in his gut to have a man—to have Lenny—buried inside him, fucking him, owning him, making him come, and then—

  “Oh man. I’m in so much trouble.”

  Lenny’s heady whisper broke through Nero’s dirty daydreams. He refocused and pulled Lenny onto his lap, flexing instinctively as Lenny’s thighs squeezed tight around him. “I coulda told you that way before we ever did this.”

  “Hmm.” Lenny’s hum was drowsy. “I can believe that. What we gotta do now is work out what to do about it.”

  “Do?”

  “Yeah, because I want to fuck you, Nero, more than anything, but you aren’t ready for that, and neither am I. I’ve spent the last god-knows how many years hooking up with blokes who were hardly more than strangers. I don’t want to do that anymore, and I don’t want it to be like that with you.”

  “It won’t be,” Nero said, though he couldn’t deny he’d spent as long as he could remember falling into bed—and other places—with near enough anyone willing. “We know each other just fine.”

  “We’re getting there.” Lenny kissed Nero’s cheek. “But we’re not there yet.”

  Nero’s dick protested, but his heart knew Lenny was right. Something was brewing between them, something neither one of them could control, and fucking like rabbits would likely implode them before they’d even got started.

  “Besides,” Lenny said when Nero failed to respond. “First things first. In the morning, I’m gonna need you to take me out.”

  “Out? Out where?”

  Lenny shrugged. “Anywhere. I don’t care. Just get me out of this place, please? Then we can come home and do this shit all over again.”

  Lenny gripped Nero’s hands like they were the only anchor tying him down to the world. If he’d been clutching anyone else, the wobble in his legs would’ve been humiliating, but not with Nero. With his dark eyes blazing a path to his soul, Lenny felt nothing but heat . . .

  And blind panic. Who knew the streets of Shepherd’s Bush could be so terrifying?

  Nero leaned down, his lips brushing Lenny’s ear, his aniseed-laced breath warming the line of silver hoops Lenny had worn for the occasion. “You know we could just get a cab, right? There ain’t no need for you to walk nowhere.”

  “Yeah, but what about tomorrow? Longer I leave it, the harder it’ll be.”

  Nero’s only response was a grunt, and Lenny couldn’t tell if he agreed or not. Standard. Lenny had assumed that time would make his inscrutable companion easier to read. It hadn’t, and it seemed Nero Fierro was destined to remain a beautiful enigma.

  And fuck, he was beautiful. Lenny took the last step out of Pippa’s back door and lost himself in all that was Nero—his molten eyes and broad shoulders. His strong neck and cropped dark hair. If he closed his eyes, he’d see the intricate tattoo on Nero’s chest—the tiger lurking behind the butterfly, or was it the other way around? Lenny saw Nero shirtless every day, and he still wasn’t sure, and thinking about that kept him preoccupied as they ventured farther and farther along the bustling streets of Shepherd’s Bush.

  “There ya go. Weren’t so hard, was it?”

  Nero’s rough cockney brogue brought Lenny back to the present. He blinked, surprised. Somehow, while he’d been lost in his Nero-themed daydreams, they’d made it all the way to the underground. “I can’t remember the last time I went on the Tube.”

  “Why? That cunt follow you on that too?”

  “No, actually.” Lenny squeezed Nero’s
hand like he could stem the dark anger that simmered in Nero’s life-hardened gaze every time he was mentioned. “I just didn’t need to because I lived and worked in Camden.”

  As though he’d read Lenny’s mind, Nero guided them onto the right train, then turned to Lenny with a quizzical frown. “You don’t make no sense.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Nero shrugged. “You’re scared of your own shadow, but you get this weird sympathy in your eyes when we talk about that lunatic.”

  “I can’t be angry with someone so sadistic. It would make me no better than him.”

  “You’re soft in the head.”

  Nero’s frown remained, but his tone wasn’t unkind, so Lenny chanced a smile, hoping it would soothe the anxiety attack still threatening his fragile calm. “I’m trying to be positive, mate. Help me out?”

  “If you say so.”

  It seemed to be Nero’s baseline answer when he wanted to be as infuriating as possible. Lenny resisted the urge—ha, craving—to bang his head against Nero’s strong chest, and let the subject drop, hoping Nero would do the same. After all this time, Lenny was done thinking about the bullshit that had kept him a virtual prisoner in Nero’s living room.

  Vauxhall came around far quicker than Lenny anticipated. He’d forgotten how deceptive the slow rumble of the underground trains were. “I feel like I just blinked.”

  Nero grinned a little in that maddening way of his. “You pretty much did. Thought you were asleep on me.”

  Lenny was fast learning how amazing it was to do just that, but he poked his tongue out anyway. “Piss off. I was resting my eyes.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Come on. Off with yer.”

  Nero took Lenny’s arm and guided him off the train. Lenny hopped onto the platform, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m excited.”

  “Thought you were terrified?”

  “Positive, remember?”

  “Sorry.” Nero peered over Lenny’s shoulder, clearly and instantly distracted. “Look at that over there. Vegan chocolate cake. Gluten-free and everything.”

  Despite the nerves churning Lenny’s stomach, he followed Nero’s gaze to the pop-up food stall at the station’s entrance. The wheeled wooden cart was painted bright pink and was surrounded by an orderly throng of lunchtime commuters. “Cake for lunch? I could live with that.”

  Nero snorted. “You’d eat Haribo for lunch if I let you.”

  “You don’t, though, do you? Can’t remember that last time I didn’t get my five-a-day.” Not that Lenny was complaining. Living with Nero had given him the best skin he’d ever had, despite the long nights he’d lain on the couch, counting the cracks in the ceiling, listening for the shuffle of grubby trainers that never came. And won’t come. It’s over, remember?

  “Earth to Lenny?” Nero waved his hand in front of Lenny’s face. “Fine, come on. You can have some cake.”

  Lenny let Nero drag him to the cake stall. Moments later, all thoughts of creeps in the night were gone, banished by a dark, decadent wodge of sinfully good cake. “Oh. My. God. You have to try this. It’s so good.”

  Nero leaned back on the bench they’d drifted to while Lenny had been in cake heaven. “Nah, you’re all right. Chocolate and avocado ain’t my thing.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing. Here . . . try it.” Lenny held a chocolate-smeared finger to Nero’s lips, half-expecting Nero to bat him away like he often did when Lenny “tickled the fucking bricks.” But he didn’t. He held Lenny’s gaze and parted his lips, letting Lenny’s finger slip slowly into his mouth.

  Jesus fucking Christ. Lenny had succumbed to the sensation of Nero’s tongue before—namely when it had been wrapped around his own—but this was something else . . . something that Lenny couldn’t overtly respond to because they were on a bench outside the Vauxhall tube station, Goddamn it.

  Nero smirked, like he was immune to the inferno brewing between them, but Lenny remembered his face when he’d come, shooting his load all over Lenny’s hands. He feels it.

  Lenny reluctantly reclaimed his finger and finished his lunch. “What about you? I can’t stuff my face while you go hungry.”

  “I’m not hungry. I had breakfast while you were snoring this morning.”

  Lenny smiled as the warm normalcy of Nero’s teasing washed over him. Christ, they’d only slept together a couple of times, but it was like they’d been doing it all along, and Lenny didn’t relish the idea of going back to the lonely couch. You’ll have to, though, won’t you? Unless he asks you to stay—

  “Fuck’s sake, you’re off with the fairies today.” Nero snatched the paper napkin from Lenny’s hands and tossed it into a nearby bin. “You taking a nap, or you gonna wake your arse up and come to the site with me?”

  “Fuck you. I’m coming.”

  Nero flushed. Lenny smirked, though it was tempered by a dose of nerves. The real world wasn’t half as scary as he’d imagined, but he’d be fucked if he let Nero out of his sight.

  Thankfully, Nero seemed to concur. He held out his hands and yanked Lenny to his feet. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

  They left the station and joined the crowds on the bustling pavements. Despite having pored over the plans most nights before he went to sleep, Lenny couldn’t picture the disused warehouse, and so he was surprised when Nero stopped again just a few minutes later.

  “This is it.”

  There was no mistaking the subtle pride in Nero as he pointed at a building that, to Lenny’s layman’s eyes, looked nothing like a warehouse at all. Lenny squeezed Nero’s hand, taking in the double set of ground-to-ceiling glass doors, albeit still in their protective casings, and the pile of reject timber that had been cut into firewood and shaped into an abstract sculpture, ready for use in the winter. The place, even half-finished, was incredible. “Fuck.”

  “That a good fuck?”

  “I’m always a good fuck, Nero, but . . . wow, yeah. It’s a good fuck. This is amazing. It’s not what I imagined.”

  “Never is. I’m always knocked sideways by how these things end up. Not so much this time, though, ’cause I’ve watched most of it happen.”

  Lenny nodded, still awed by the subtle slickness the Urban Soul designers had managed to weave into the rustically utilitarian building. “I love the windows. They didn’t look so big in the plans.”

  “They weren’t. Some of the brickwork was rotten, so they knocked it out. It’s good to have more light, right?”

  Lenny shrugged. Nero had likely forgotten more about restaurants than Lenny would ever know. “Can we go inside?”

  Nero pointed to the side of the building. “Entrance is round the back for now. Come on.”

  They ventured around the back of the building, where they found a hive of activity that had barely been detectable from the front.

  “They usually try and hide the construction once they’ve got the new frontage on. Makes it intriguing, or some shit.”

  It was a good theory, and it worked for Lenny. “Do they know what they’re going to call it yet?”

  For the second time that day, heat crept into Nero’s cheeks, and he looked away. “They want me to name it.”

  “You? Why?”

  “Dunno. Weren’t really listening.”

  Lenny didn’t believe that. Nero was a man who missed nothing. “Perhaps it’s because you’ve done all the work?”

  “If you say so.”

  Lenny rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You gonna give me the grand tour, or what?”

  Nero took Lenny around the site, pointing out the newly installed kitchen—complete with the biggest ovens Lenny had ever seen—and the dining area that was in the middle of having a dark hardwood floor put down. With its super-high ceilings and huge windows, the restaurant itself was a work of art, but Lenny found himself drawn back to the kitchen, half of which would be the artisan bakery. “I thought it would feel disjointed in here.”

  “Disjointed?”

  “Yeah.” Lenny spun in a
slow circle. “I guess I figured there’d be some kind of divide between the pizza kitchen and the bakery.”

  “Why? It’s all cooking.”

  “Yeah, but you’re going to run one side and that lady—what’s her name . . . Efe—will run the other. I couldn’t see how it would fit together.”

  “But you can now?” Nero looked amused, though it was often hard to tell for sure.

  Lenny considered his question. “I think so. It’ll make sense when it’s up and running.”

  It suddenly struck Lenny that life would be very different once the Vauxhall project was complete. Nero hadn’t outright said he’d taken the job there, but him moving on to run the pizzeria would effectively put an end to a summer that had so far been spent in each other’s pockets. Perhaps he’ll be glad of the space—who the hell knew? But for Lenny, the idea of seeing Nero for no more than a cuppa in the morning, and a quick beer at night, was so depressing the sticky cake in his belly turned to ash. And that’s if Pippa’s still wants you without Nero around to carry your arse.

  What was left of Lenny’s good mood evaporated. He’d never imagined he’d enjoy slogging his days away in a windowless kitchen, but he’d grown to quite like his job at Pippa’s, even if much of his contentment stemmed from Nero’s gruff company. He didn’t want to leave, damn it.

  Nero gently punched Lenny’s arm. “What are you sulking about now?”

  “Sulking? What makes you think I’m sulking?”

  “You’re gnawing on your bottom lip like your belly thinks your throat’s been cut, and I know you ain’t hungry. What’s up? You wanna go home?”

  “What? No. Fuck, no. It’s not that.”

  “Then what?” Nero was suddenly in front of Lenny, up in his personal space in a way that, somehow, wasn’t invasive. “You gonna tell me? Or do I have to guess?”

  Lenny scowled. “Didn’t know you cared.”