Closer by Morning

by Thom Collins

  “Gonna come,” he gasped. He held Dale tighter and buried his head in his shoulder, inhaling the smell of his skin and came long and deep. He felt the pull all the way from his toes, through his thighs, his balls, his belly. His cock pulsed with one intense wave of pleasure after another as he blew his load and his soul into Dale’s welcoming bottom.

  Matt eased back onto his elbows. Sweat dripped down his face, blurring his vision.

  “Wait,” Dale said urgently. “Don’t pull out. Not yet.” He slid his hand between their bodies and gripped his dick. “Oh.”

  He closed his eyes. His face flushed deep pink. He bit his lip. He gripped Matt’s cock even tighter as his body was racked with paroxysms of pleasure.

  He opened his mouth in a silent scream as he spurted hot wetness against their bellies.

  They came apart, gasping for breath and smiling.

  “Jesus. That was damn fine.”

  They both burst out laughing. The euphoria after great sex was a buzz like nothing else.

  They cleaned up with tissues and Matt padded down to the kitchen to fetch a couple of glasses of water. The sex, together with all that wine, had given him one hell of a thirst. Dale was under the covers when he returned.

  Considering they had only just met, the sight of Dale in his bed was a welcome one. He looked totally at home there.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” he drawled. “It was getting kind of cold without you.”

  “Let’s do something about that.”

  Matt slipped beneath the covers into Dale’s warm, comforting embrace. He pressed against his body, savoring every lean inch of him.

  “This is a nice place. Have you lived here long?”

  “A couple of years. It’s just a rental, so not mine at all, but I love living here. It’s perfect for work and not far from the city if I want to go out. I can even walk to town in good weather. When I save up enough money to buy a place, I’d like something just like this.”

  Dale’s hand rested on the naked curve of his waist. “Is that your ideal scenario? To own your own place?”

  “Yes. But it won’t happen this side of my thirtieth. You need to save a fortune for the deposit on a decent mortgage. My parents have offered to help but I want to do it for myself.”

  “What do your folks do?”

  “Dad’s a lawyer, like me. My mam’s got a little shop. They work hard. I want them to spend their money on themselves, not me. They should get out there and see the world. Take a few cruises. Travel. They deserve it.”

  “I think you might be the perfect boyfriend,” Dale said, squeezing his hip. “You tick all the boxes. Insanely hot. Big dick. Cute ass. Handsome. And nice to his folks. What more could anyone ask for?”

  “I can think of one thing,” Matt said softly, reaching for Dale’s cock. “A man who keeps his promise. You owe me a return fuck.”

  Dale rolled over, pinning him down with his weight, cock already hardening. “Well now, that must make me the perfect boyfriend too, because I always keep my promises.”

  ****

  From outside, a light could be seen in the first-floor bedroom window. Most of the other houses on the estate were in darkness. It was past midnight and tomorrow was another working day.

  Anyone taking one last look out of their window before bed would not see anything amiss.

  The shadows between the garages of number thirty-nine and forty were completely black. Dark enough to conceal the figure of the man within them, even if he wasn’t dressed in black. He had the controlled stillness of a natural predator. He would not be seen unless he wanted to be.

  His gaze was just as unmoving. Watching the window of the house across the street. He didn’t have to see in to know what was happening inside. He’d seen the haste with which the men had entered.

  They were fucking.

  They couldn’t wait.

  They had no self-control.

  Unlike him.

  As the minutes of the night ticked away, he kept on watching.

  Chapter Seven

  Friday morning the protestors were waiting outside the studio when Dale arrived. But not even they, with their hateful banners and angry calls to quit, could dampen his mood. Nothing could bring him down. Not today.

  Not after a night like that.

  He didn’t get much sleep. Didn’t need it—or want it. Not when he was with Matt. Oh boy, what a night. It wasn’t just the sex, though it had been pretty mind-blowing. It was the interactions between them, deep into the night, talking back and forth. Listening. Learning. Discovering each other.

  How was it even possible to feel so strongly for someone you had just met? Dale didn’t know, but he did. Matt was someone very special. The more time he spent with him, the more he felt it. Not only handsome and sexy—those things were obvious to anyone with eyes—but warm, funny and intelligent. He was the complete package.

  If Dale didn’t know better, he would say he had fallen in love. But he couldn’t say that. Not yet.

  The first person he encountered as he hurried to his trailer was Adrian Nelson, a talented stage actor playing the young detective on the show, sidekick to the imposing Roxanne. He was tall and rangy with an untidy mop of curls and a large nose.

  “How’s it going?” Dale beamed.

  Adrian frowned. “A happy face. How nice. I hope it lasts. Roxanne is back and she’s got as much cheer as a Russian winter.”

  “Ah. She must have got Elton’s message about the avaiabilty of his first choice. Not a happy lady, eh?”

  “That’s putting it very mildly. She’s got a face like a smacked arse. And compared to the face on Elton, that’s a good thing. Hang on to that happiness for as long as you feel it. This is going to be a very long day.”

  “It’s gonna take more than a disgruntled actress to bring me down,” Dale said. He meant it too. He had two whole days off after this. His boy, Jack, was coming to stay. Dale had been looking forward to that for too long to let anyone spoil it.

  Now, to add to his joy, there was Matt. It was with great reluctance that Dale had left his bed that morning. In an ideal world he’d slip back in there tonight, but that was impossible. As much as he wanted to be with Matt, spending quality time with his son was more important. This weekend would be all about the boy.

  Matt understood. They would stay in touch and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance they could get together again on Sunday night when Jack went back to his mother’s.

  Until then there was work to do.

  Dale changed into the costume that was laid out in his trailer. When he wasn’t killing people, his character, Daryl Stone, was a teacher at the sixth-form college, lecturing impressionable teens. It was a huge challenge as an actor to portray the conflicting sides of the character—the caring teacher and the psychotic killer. As he dressed in today’s wardrobe—chinos, plaid shirt and blazer—he put thoughts of his personal life to one side and concentrated on the twisted mind of Daryl Stone.

  He headed to the makeup trailer with that morning’s script. He knew the lines already but an actor could never be over-prepared.

  Roxanne Maxwell was in the chair when he arrived. While a makeup assistant and hairdresser busied around her, Roxanne glowered at the screen of her mobile phone, furiously thumbing the keys. She didn’t look up or acknowledge his arrival.

  “Morning,” he said cheerfully, sliding into the chair beside her. She might have a face like a horse’s ass but it wasn’t contagious. “Hope you’re feeling better today, Roxanne.”

  She raised her eyes from the phone and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Her lips were narrow and tense. The poor makeup girl had her work cut out trying to get color on them.

  “Not really,” she said frostily. “I don’t appreciate being dragged from my sick bed by some third-rate director. You know the little bastard threatened to
have me replaced? The gin must have addled his tiny mind. They’re selling this crap on me, not Elton bloody Weaver. It’s my name above the title. I’m the star of the show. No offense.”

  “Huh. None taken.”

  “If he had any damn sense he’d close the production down for at least a week. Until this whole mess is sorted out.”

  Mess? This crazy woman thought the murder of two young men was a mess?

  “That would be too expensive,” he said calmly, refusing to be drawn into her anger. “I doubt we’re insured for things like that. Besides, the producers were breathing down Elton’s neck, insisting he keep the show on the road.”

  “Have you heard the fucking racket they are making out there? Next week we’re supposed to shoot locations. How are we going to do that if the moral crusaders decide to follow us?”

  “It may calm down after the weekend.”

  “Not likely.” She brandished her phone in his direction. “Have you seen what they are saying about me on Twitter? Me, for fuck’s sake. What did I ever do to deserve this shit?”

  ****

  Roxanne’s mood did not improve once they got to the set. They were trying to shoot a scene in which the detectives, Roxanne and her sidekick Adrian, asked questions of pupils and teachers at the school of one of Daryl’s victims. Dale and Adrian were word perfect on every take while Roxanne blew every line.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Elton screeched, blazing onto the set. “It’s not fucking Chekhov. What can possibly be so difficult?”

  Oh crap. This was exactly what she’d been building to, provoking the director to the point of explosion.

  “What is so difficult is trying to work on the utter anarchy of your set. I can’t even think straight with all that noise out there. You need to do something about it.”

  “You don’t have to think, duckie.” Elton’s voice was as sharp as a blade. “It’s all written down for you. All you have to do is learn the words and repeat them. Like a parrot. It’s called acting. Give it a try it sometime.”

  The resulting clash went off louder than New Year’s fireworks, so deafening that the sound of the protestors outside was finally reduced to background noise. Adrian Nelson rolled his eyes as he and Dale stepped to the side of the set.

  “This could take a while,” Adrian said wearily.

  “Maybe it’ll be better afterward. Once they’ve cleared the air.” Dale sounded hopeful.

  “TV fucking Choice Awards,” Elton screeched. “I didn’t know they gave awards to blocks of wood. What did they carve you out of? Oak or elm?”

  “You gin-soaked old fairy!”

  “I’m going for a smoke,” Adrian said. “Send someone out to get me when this is all over.”

  Things only got worse over the course of the morning with Elton and Roxanne at each other’s throats. The protest outside seemed to be getting louder too, as though they sensed they were being upstaged by the drama inside. This couldn’t go on for much longer. The entire shoot was descending into chaos.

  During the downtime, of which there was plenty, Dale checked his phone for messages. Everything was set for his weekend with Jack. Laura would put him on a train when he got out of school, first-class carriage, with instructions to speak to no one, and Dale would meet him at Durham station at eight that evening. It wasn’t ideal. The alternative was for Dale to drive down early on Saturday morning, meeting Laura at a collection point midway on the A1.

  “Boring,” Jack had protested loudly. “There’s nothing to do in a car. I want to take the train. C’mon, I’m not a kid. I’m not going to talk to pedophiles in the carriage.”

  Laura had been appalled but Dale had been quietly glad the boy was worldly wise and smart to such dangers. “You can call him every half hour of the journey,” Dale had assured her. “What harm can he come to in a first-class train carriage?”

  Reluctantly Laura had agreed to the exchange.

  No message yet from her to call the visit off. He’d been half expecting it, given the hullabaloo around the shoot. Maybe it was just a big story for the local news and not gaining as much attention nationally.

  Mid-morning, he was pleased to receive a text from Matt.

  Thanks for last night. One of the best. Can’t wait to do it again.

  Neither could he. His night with Matt had sure put a spring in his step today. Work was impossible, regardless of the on-set drama, when all he could think about was Matt and his amazing body. And the sex. My God—the sex. That had never been so good. Not with anyone. Fucking, getting fucked, kissing, sucking, rimming. All night long, they couldn’t get enough of each other. Coupling and uncoupling in every way imaginable.

  With other guys, Dale couldn’t wait to get away once it was over. There was an awkwardness after sex that always made him uncomfortable. But not with Matt. He had wanted to hold him and kiss him until they had been ready to go again. Pretty soon they both had been.

  Elton eventually called an early lunch. His fights with Roxanne were getting them nowhere. The director, actress and producers retired to a production room where they could thrash out their considerable differences in private.

  Dale was suddenly starving. He hadn’t eaten at all since leaving the restaurant with Matt last night. God knew he’d burned off some energy since then.

  Instead of retiring to his trailer, he headed to the catering truck with the rest of the crew. No healthy lunch today. He needed protein and carbs. He loaded his plate with a beef burger and thick-cut chips and took a seat at a table with the lighting guys.

  There was only one topic of conversation—the bust-up between director and leading lady.

  “I’ve never worked on any set when I saw attitudes as unprofessional as those two,” said a bearded, tattooed engineer named Phil.

  There were murmurs of agreement around the table. Dale refused to comment either way. There were a lot of weeks ahead of them. He wouldn’t be drawn into taking sides. Roxanne and Elton might be speaking to each other by this afternoon but would hold a grudge against anyone who spoke against them in the meantime.

  He’d worked on enough sets to know there was nothing more fragile or toxic than ego.

  After lunch, he went back to his trailer to catch up on the news. There were no new developments in the murder case though it was still the lead item on the local bulletin, with the protest outside the studio getting near equal coverage.

  As Dale began preparing for that afternoon’s scenes, there was a knock on his trailer door—Aaron.

  He hovered in the doorway, not coming in without an invitation. “Hi,” he said, cute smile in place, puppy-dog eyes effectively wide. “Are you in a better mood today?”

  Dale smiled, not too encouragingly. “I’m always in a good mood. But I am kind of busy.”

  “Too busy for a blow job?” Aaron winked, licking his lips.

  “Afraid so.” Why didn’t he just tell the truth? I’ve met someone. As nice as the lunchtime blow jobs were, they’re over. No more.

  “Your loss.” Aaron shrugged, closing the door behind him.

  ****

  Matt had been in a terrific mood all day. Nothing they could throw at him in the office could spoil it. Annabel had obviously known there was something up the second she had collected him that morning.

  “Whoa. I know it’s Friday and all that but you are way too cheerful for this time of the morning. What’s up?”

  He’d decided, before she’d arrived, that he couldn’t trust her with his good news. There had been too much at stake for Dale, especially right now, to let her in on the secret. For a lawyer, she’d been hopelessly indiscreet. He could have sworn her to secrecy, but within hours, the news of his date with Dale Zachary would have been around the office, Twitter and on Facebook.

  “I had a few too many drinks with Conrad last night, that’s all. Didn’t feel safe to drive this morni
ng.”

  “Very wise. I had eight drivers at court last week who were caught out by the cops with their early morning spot checks. They all thought they were safe to drive the next day.” Annabel had floored the accelerator as an amber light changed to red. Her driving was far from perfect, even when sober. “I thought you were going out with Conrad tonight.”

  “We are, this was just…an unexpected piss-up. How was boot camp?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Didn’t make it,” she had said, ignoring the angry car horns of other drivers. “Didn’t even set my alarm. I knew last night there was no way I could get up for that this morning, as much I would like to see the tasty Dale again. And Clint for that matter. I got a definite whiff of interest there.”

  It was a busy day at work and the time flew. Court appearances, police station interviews and scheduled appointments. He didn’t even stop for ten minutes to grab a sandwich for lunch. None of it bothered him. He went through the day on a euphoric high. Just the thought of Dale got him buzzing and looking back to last night.

  He’d never been screwed so well. Not by anyone. And he’d never wanted anyone more. Usually one orgasm was enough—roll over and go to sleep. But with Dale, he hadn’t wanted to stop. Ten minutes after coming he had been hard again, ready for more. And how great it had been to go to bed with a man who was as versatile as he. Most guys he’d been with were bound up in roles, top or bottom, with no negotiation. Matt had always enjoyed it both ways and Dale did too. They were in and out of each other’s bodies all night long.

  The memory made him smile. And got him hard again.

  There was a possibility of them getting together on Sunday evening, depending on how the weekend with Dale’s son went. Matt could hardly wait and prayed nothing would come up to prevent it.

  After work, he went home to change. The bed that he’d hastily straightened that morning still smelled of Dale. He held a pillow to his face and inhaled deeply. He wouldn’t change the sheets until Sunday. If he couldn’t spend the weekend with Dale, he could at least sleep with his scent.