Hearts of England

by Anthology

  "I'm sorry," Neil said. "I don't want to fight, Baz. I know I should have talked to you. I was an idiot." Neil laid his hands on Baz's thighs, not pulling, but a firm pressure to let him know he didn't want Baz to move away.

  Baz nodded, burrowing his hot face into Neil's neck. "I'm sorry too. I'm just scared shitless." He tangled his fingers in Neil's t-shirt.

  Neil hesitated before he spoke. "Is there anything I could do at the clinic? As a volunteer? Decorating, DIY, even making the fucking teas? Just something to make me feel like I'm not mooching off you for the year." In all their discussions, they had never once discussed the possibility of Neil being involved in the clinic. "I still want to write my novel but at least I would be doing something useful. Baz?" He stopped talking, his breath taken away at the joy on Baz's face. Then Baz was wriggling on his lap to get closer and pulling Neil's face closer.

  "God, yes. I'd love it if you'd help. I never thought… I wanted… you just kept talking about writing your damned book. Even Alex has already asked to help."

  Any reply Neil might have made, any sudden rush of guilt, was swallowed up in a clash of lips and teeth, bruising and powerful until Neil was stunned with the ferocity of Baz's passion.

  Neil tugged on Baz's hair, needing to be able to talk. "I didn't think… I'm sorry." He only managed a few words before Baz was kissing him again. He could feel Baz's arousal, hard against his stomach, trapped by the cotton boxers. He needed to take that intensity and use it, needing to make love to his husband now, before anything, Alex, an argument, a kitten trapped up a tree, cockblocked them again.

  "Bed," Neil said, tearing his mouth away from Baz's.

  Baz took a moment to focus on what he was saying then he nodded in agreement. "Take me to bed and fuck me senseless." He was off Neil's lap and dragging him towards the bedroom before Neil could get his breath.

  In the bedroom Neil watched as Baz stripped off his clothes, openly ogling his naked body. Even after a decade of looking and touching his husband, one flash of Baz's body was enough to make him hard enough to drill rocks.

  "Are you just going to watch?" Baz asked, stroking his cock. He licked his lips as well, knowing exactly the effect that would have on Neil.

  "Lie on the bed." Neil made no effort to undress.

  Baz did as he was told, slowly, lying down, his legs spread to give Neil a good view of his balls and arse.

  "Stroke yourself again. Slowly." Neil started to undress, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the glistening head emerging from his lover's fist.

  "You'd better hurry up, or I'm not going to last," Baz said, his words coming in short gasps.

  Finally naked, Neil climbed on the bed, leaning over Baz to reach the lube. "Hold on," he begged. "I need to be inside you when you come."

  Baz nodded, biting his lip in concentration. "Hurry."

  Neil squeezed some slick onto his fingers, and kissed Baz as he pressed into his hole, feeling the muscles clenching around him. It didn't take long to prepare him then he was pressing in, feeling the slight drag of not enough lube. Neil tried to pull out, intending to use some more but Baz wrapped his legs around Neil's waist and clung on, his erection trapped between them.

  "You're not going anywhere."

  "I don't want to hurt you." Neil said.

  Still enfolding Neil with all his limbs, Baz whispered, "The only way you could hurt me is to not be here in my arms every night."

  Looking into Baz's fiercely determined face, Neil made his promise. "I will follow you until the end of my days."

  Baz looked extremely satisfied. "And then you can haunt me."

  Neil pulled back and thrust in hard. "Are you sure?"

  "Uh-hah," Baz agreed, somewhat breathlessly.

  Another thrust and Neil was pleased to see Baz's eyes lose focus, smoky blue now with pleasure.

  "God. More," Baz pleaded as his body tightened around Neil's dick.

  Neil drove into Baz, varying the thrusts, the rhythm, until Baz was babbling incoherently. Then he changed their position, Baz's legs over his shoulder, canting his hips to graze Baz's prostate again and again. Baz was a pretty mess, his dark hair sweat-slicked. He begged, pleading, desperate to come. Neil wanted them to come together. He was there—almost—there; the climax was within his grasp.

  "Come for me," Baz gasped, and it was him giving the order that pushed Neil over the edge, his dick buried deep in Baz's glorious body, Baz following, spurting over his belly and chest.

  Neil collapsed on top of Baz, unable to support his weight. Baz grunted but immediately held him again, unwilling to let him go. Come-slick and covered in sweat, Neil was a total mess and Baz was worse, but neither of them seemed to care. Neil rolled to one side and enfolded Baz into his arms.

  Moments passed before Baz spoke. "I would never have forgiven you if you hadn't agreed to come with me," he said, his mouth pressed against Neil's chest.

  "I know," Neil answered, and he did know, because for all Baz's brave words earlier, Neil knew his husband would never have coped with their separation. He gently caressed Baz's back. "You need another wax," he said and grinned at Baz's disgusted snort.

  The End

  About the Author

  Sue Brown is owned by her dog and two children. When she isn't following their orders, she can be found at university listening to lecturers discuss long-dead theologians. In her head, however, she's plotting how to get her cowboys into bed together; she just hopes the lecturer doesn't ask her any questions.

  Sue discovered M/M erotica at the time she woke up to find two men kissing on a television series. The series was boring; the kissing was not. She may be late to the party, but she's made up for it since, writing fan fiction until she was brave enough to venture out into the world of original fiction.

  Website:

  http://www.suebrownstories.com

  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/SueBrownsStories

  Twitter:

  https://twitter.com/suebrownstories

  Blog:

  http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.co.uk/

  Email:

  suebrown.stories@gmail.com

  Also by Sue Brown

  Available at Silver Publishing

  Chance to be King

  The Backpack

  Stolen Dreams

  "Racing Raindrops" in Chasing the Dream

  "This Morning" in Hearts of England

  THE FITZWARREN INHERITANCE

  The Psychic's Tale, by Chris Quinton

  The Soldier's Tale, by RJ Scott

  The Lord's Tale, by Sue Brown

  THE MASQUERADE TRILOGY

  The Layered Mask, by Sue Brown

  The Slave's Mask, by Patricia Logan

  Behind the Mask, by Lisa Worrall

  TITLES IN PRINT

  Chance to be King

  The Fitzwarren Inheritance

  Available at Noble Romance Publishing

  Final Admission

  Available at Dreamspinner Press

  Morning Report

  Complete Faith

  The Night Porter

  Light of Day

  Nothing Ever Happens

  The Isle of… Where?

  "The Sacrifice" in Making Contact

  Available at Torquere Press

  Mr Plum

  "Possession" in Mine

  "Lipstick" in Toy Box: Make-up

  A Good Feeling

  Jamie has a good feeling when he meets and falls in love with Connor, an Army captain destined for Afghanistan. Will that good feeling survive Connor's deployment?

  A Good Feeling

  S.A. Meade

  Dedication

  To my fellow Brits: Sue Brown, Chris Quinton, Meredith Russell,

  R.J. Scott and Lisa Worrall – thank you for letting me tag along.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
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  Fruit Gums (Nestle's Rowntree Fruit Gums): Societe des Produits Nestle SA

  Sandhurst, RAF: Secretary of State for Defence, United Kingdom

  Time Out: Time Out Group Limited

  Chapter One

  He wasn't the usual weekday afternoon customer. Normally, by three, the lunchers had gone and the blue-rinse brigade moved in, lingering over pots of tea and slices of cake.

  He was a good thirty years younger, for starters. He sat in the corner, chin on hand while he stared out the window. The late afternoon sun touched his short brown hair with fire. His face was turned away from the room while he watched shoppers drift by on their way to or from the Wednesday market. He was a study in stillness and silence while the old biddies, trading recipes and knitting patterns, chattered around him. It was rare for anyone to walk into the tea shop and make me look more than once. This one made the breath catch in my throat.

  I inhaled deeply, picked up a menu and walked toward his table.

  He glanced up and grinned when I approached.

  I gave him my best smile and handed him the menu. "Good afternoon. Can I get you something to drink?"

  "A cappuccino, please. A large one."

  I scribbled the order down on my pad. "Would you like anything else? There's the menu and there's also the daily specials on the board." It was the same spiel I gave to everyone. There was nothing I could put into the words to let my interest slip. Anyway, I'd promised my brother that I wouldn't chat up the customers. I wasn't about to start now, not while Liam was letting me hang my paintings on the walls of the cafe. I needed all the sales I could get.

  He glanced past me to the board.

  "Can I have the lemon cake?"

  "I think we have a slice or two left. Anything else?" I wanted him to order more, give me something nice to look at for longer than it took to drink a large coffee and eat a wedge of cake.

  He looked at the menu once more. "All right, you've talked me into it. I'll have a piece of the stilton and bacon quiche as well."

  "Good choice." I offered him another smile. "I'll go and get your coffee."

  "Thank you." He smiled back, his eyes warm.

  I lost a little bit of myself at that moment.

  "I won't be a minute." I headed back to the kitchen, stopping only to tidy an empty table and take a payment at the till.

  "I saw you." Hayley, my sister-in-law, glanced up from the sink.

  "Saw me what?" I took the quiche from the fridge and set it on the counter.

  "Chatting up the bloke by the window." She smiled. "Not that I blame you. He's hot."

  "And probably straight." I cut a slab of quiche and placed it on a plate. "They usually are."

  "You don't know that." Hayley stacked the pans neatly on the draining board. "He gave you a nice smile and watched you walk away."

  "Were you watching?"

  She shrugged. "It's a slow afternoon."

  I stared at her. "Don't do the whole matchmaking thing again, Hayls. It didn't work all that well last time."

  "How was I supposed to know he was married?"

  "The wedding ring was a big clue, for starters." I placed some salad greens alongside the quiche and headed out of the kitchen. "Don't do it again." I paused and peered through the door. He was back to staring through the window.

  "I have a good feeling about this one." Hayley grinned.

  "So do I. But it's not for repeating in polite company." I took a deep breath and pushed through the door into the tea room.

  He turned away from the window. "That looks good."

  "Freshly made every day." I set the plate on the table. "I'll get your coffee."

  "Thanks."

  When I returned with his coffee, he'd already demolished most of the quiche. "This is really nice. Did you make it?"

  "No. My brother does all the baking and cooking. I just work the front of the house."

  He leaned back in his chair. "I like the paintings you have hanging up in here. Local artists?"

  "Yes, they're mine." If nothing else, there was always the chance I could make a sale.

  "All yours?" He glanced around.

  "All mine."

  "I'm impressed."

  "Thank you."

  "So do you specialise in landscapes?"

  I thought of the nude sketches I had in the studio upstairs. "And human landscapes too."

  He smiled. "Portraits?"

  "Not exactly. Let me put it this way, I think a few of our clientele would be a bit shocked if I put them up here." My big earners were the nude male portraits, most of them blatantly erotic and very popular, according to a London gallery owner. He usually phoned me at least once a month, with pointed hints that I needed to paint more. I was between models because my most recent model had run off to Edinburgh with a nightclub dancer.

  I looked at this man and could see him on the couch in my studio. Not sprawled in abandon over the scattered cushions but sitting still, his legs crossed, hands on his lap while he stared through the window…

  "Ah, I see." Another grin. His gaze was suddenly keener. I was almost grateful when Mrs Beamish, one of our regulars, asked for her bill.

  Several customers took advantage of my attendance at the cash register to pay their bills. By the time I'd finished, Hayley had left the lemon cake on the counter and the man by the window was the only customer left.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting." I handed him the cake. "Bit of an exodus there."

  "It's all right. I'm not in any hurry." He picked up the fork.

  I left him to enjoy the cake and cleared the tables, one eye on the clock. It was almost closing time and I wanted everything tidied away, apart from him.

  "Jamie," Hayley poked her head around the kitchen door. "I'm heading home now. You don't need me to do anything, do you?"

  "No, I'm all right. I'll lock up."

  She glanced past me and then winked. "Thanks. See you tomorrow. Shall I put the 'closed' sign up?"

  I looked at the clock. "You might as well. No one is going to get a cup of tea in the next five minutes."

  "Do you want me to leave?" He set the fork down and started to retrieve his things.

  Please, no. Don't.

  "No, you're fine." Hayley flipped the sign and pulled down the blinds, hiding the sun. "Jamie could use the company. I need someone to make sure he cleans up properly."

  He raised his eyebrow. "He looks a responsible sort to me."

  "Good night, Jamie." Hayley grinned and headed back toward the kitchen. "Behave yourself."

  "As if I have a chance to do anything else." I picked up a used cup and saucer and set them on the tray.

  Our remaining guest returned to his cake. I took the tray into the kitchen and hurriedly loaded the dishwasher. I half expected him to be waiting by the door when I went back to the dining room. Instead, he sat back in his seat contemplating his empty dish. I wished I had my sketchbook handy. There was such a world-weary, wistful air around him that begged to be captured.

  "I'm sorry. There's one more dirty plate for you."

  "That's all right. All I have to do is put it in the dishwasher."

  "How much do I owe you?" He reached into his pocket.

  "It's on the house." I couldn't be arsed to unlock the cash register.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely. Consider it the prize for being the last customer of the day."

  He rose. "Thanks. That was an unexpected treat."

  "We aim to please."

  "I suppose I'd better leave you in peace."

  I took a deep breath. "You don't have to. Stay and admire the paintings and, if you're feeling flush, you can buy one."

  Jesus, Jamie… desperate much?

  He laughed and sat back down. "It might be nice to have something to brighten up my flat, but I think I've spent enough today on my father's present." He nodded toward the bag on the floor beside his chair. "But I'm not in any hurry to leave."

  "Well, since you're staying, do you want an
other coffee, or something else? We don't have a license, I'm afraid, if you're wanting something alcoholic."

  "Another coffee would be fine. Will you join me?"

  If Hayley had still been there, her ear would've been pressed to the door. "Thanks, I will."

  I made two more coffees and carried them to the table. The café was silent. The only sound was the dying gurgles of the coffee maker.

  "Cheers." He smiled and raised his cup to me. "Jamie, right?"

  "Yes."

  He set the cup down and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Connor Lewis."

  His handshake was firm and… electric. His fingers strayed across my palm before returning to his drink.

  I was hard pressed to hold the coffee cup without my hand shaking. We seemed to have crossed a bridge. "So, what do you do for a living?"

  "I'm an army officer. A captain. I'm based down near Salisbury."

  I looked at Connor, at his short hair, the neatly pressed white shirt and khaki trousers. "Ah, right." All I could think about was Afghanistan. It was the one word I associated with the Army.

  "Yes, I'm being deployed to Afghanistan." He sighed and stared at the closed blinds. "In about three months' time. It'll be my second deployment there."

  "How did you know what I was thinking?"

  "It's usually the first question I'm asked. And, no, I'm not looking forward to it."

  "I can't imagine you would be."

  "It's my last tour. I'm leaving after I get back. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I'll have done my time. I just want to live a normal life, you know?"

  "I know." Suddenly, my little upstairs flat didn't seem quite so pokey or my day job so onerous.

  Connor pushed his cup away and glanced at his watch. "I've kept you long enough. I should leave you in peace. I have to get back to barracks."