One Under

by JL Merrow

  Tasha, who’d been clearing the next table, made a gagging sound. “Jeez, Dev, you just had to go there, didn’t you?”

  They all laughed, and then Dev asked out of the blue, “So how are you doing now, about the whole one-under thing?”

  Mal choked on his pickled onion.

  Kyle patted him on the back, frowning at Dev. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

  “What, so I’m not allowed to mention the Elephant and Castle in the room?” Dev’s tone was light, but he gave Mal a searching look.

  Mal held up his finger and swivelled it for good measure until he could speak. “Prick. It happened at Kennington, and you know it.” He took a swig of Coke and almost managed to choke on that. “It’s . . . a work in progress.”

  Dev nodded. “You ever want to talk or anything . . .” He leaned over and grasped Mal’s arm. “’M here for you, bruv.”

  “Yeah. Cheers.” That coughing fit had left his throat all tight. Mal took another swig of Coke to cover it.

  After they’d eaten, they took Zelley down to the beach at Mother Ivey’s Bay. With the skies still grey and threatening more rain, there weren’t many people there and definitely no eye candy. A few families were making the best of it, the tots dressed in shorts and anoraks building sandcastles while Mum and Dad huddled together with a flask of tea. It was a real 1950s moment. Well, if you ignored Mum’s ebook and Dad’s smartphone.

  While Dev threw a ball for the dog, Mal and Kyle sat down on the sand. It was cold under their bums, and Mal found himself envying the families—a cup of tea would’ve gone down a treat right now.

  Mal cleared his throat. “So, uh, I guess you heard all about me and Jory, yeah?”

  Kyle nodded. “I can’t say I’ve had anything but bad experiences with that family, but I’m willing to keep an open mind. How did you meet him?”

  “Local museum. He’s gonna be a secondary schoolteacher in September, but he’s working there for now.” Mal smiled, remembering. “He ain’t like his brother and sister. They’re all about business and money and keeping up appearances, bollocks like that. But Jory’s into learning stuff and passing it on.”

  “He’s younger than them?”

  “That you asking me if he’s a dirty old man? Yeah, I think they were nine or ten when he was born. So he’s less older than me than you are than Dev. Uh, if that makes sense.” He thought about it. “Huh. I could just’ve said he’s not as old as you.”

  “Thanks. Now I feel like a dirty old man.”

  “Anytime, mate.”

  “So you’ve been going out with him for a while, then?”

  “Uh, well. Um. Not exactly. I mean, we’ve been out together a few times, but . . . it’s complicated.”

  Kyle frowned. “Oh? I must’ve misunderstood. I thought from what Dev said that it was a serious thing.”

  Oh, fuck a duck. “It is, but . . . Fuck it, I really like him, but I’m shit scared it’s not gonna work out. Christ, this is the worst possible time for me to meet someone. My head’s still all fucked up.”

  Kyle gave him a look that said I am older and wiser than you. Mal would’ve been well pissed off by it if the subtext, which came across loud and clear, hadn’t been I’ve fucked my life up more times than you’ve had hot dinners. “I understand your worries. Believe me. But things don’t always happen at exactly the right time—and if you wait for it to be the right time, you could end up missing out altogether. Do you want to take that chance?”

  “No.” Mal took a deep breath. “It’s fucking terrifying, though, you know?”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  “How’s it been for you?” Mal blurted it out. “I mean, yeah, you had this high-flying legal career, didn’t you—”

  “Not that high-flying.”

  “But still, you had to, well, change your ideas about what you were gonna do with your life. When you got ill.”

  Kyle stared out to sea for a moment. “I’m not going to tell you it’s easy,” he said at last. “There’s always the worry . . . People who don’t understand what you’re dealing with can be . . .” He sighed. “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not trying hard enough. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “What if it’s me thinking it?”

  “Well, that’s harder to deal with. But you just have to be honest with yourself. About what you really want, and what you can actually do. About whether your career is really worth the sacrifices you’ll have to make for it.” Kyle shrugged. “I don’t know if that helps at all.”

  Mal nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it helps. Cheers, mate.” He clapped Kyle on the shoulder and jumped up. “Wanna skim stones?”

  It wasn’t until late that night that Mal finally got some time to himself. Dev and Kyle had gone back to the cottage, Tasha was serving the stragglers in the bar, the ones who acted like they had no homes to go to, and he’d escaped to his room.

  All he could think about was Jory. Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. He thought a lot about Dev and Kyle, and how fucking happy they were together too. And he thought about his job.

  Driving on the Tubes had been all he’d wanted to do ever since he could remember. To a preschool kid, it’d seemed the coolest job in the world—didn’t every little kid want to drive a train? And how many actually had a dad who did that job, and who’d tell them spooky stories about the tunnels?

  His dad had been so proud when Mal had started work as a driver. For the first time in his life, Mal had felt like his dad saw him as a man. The right sort of man, one he might have been mates with if they weren’t family. And Mal had really wanted that. Dad had been so awesome about him being bi, for a start. Like it didn’t matter to him who Mal went out with. And yeah, obviously his mum had been the best, but that was different, wasn’t it? Mal had always felt like he had to work a bit harder to make his dad proud, and the whole liking boys thing, it could have gone either way, couldn’t it? Dads liked to think their sons were proper manly, and for a lot of dads, being proper manly meant shagging women and no one else. He’d known lads who’d got kicked out of the house for liking cock, even in this day and age. So yeah, his dad was awesome, and he deserved a son he could be proud of.

  It was doing his head in, so Mal decided to go back to thinking about Jory instead. He’d had the right idea, saying they didn’t have to sort everything out at once. They could take it slow and easy.

  The thought of him and Jory taking it slow and easy made Mal smile. And start getting a stiffy. He rubbed his dick through his jeans and wondered if Jory would be up for sexting.

  Or a plain, U-rated phone call, even. Sod it. Mal just wanted to hear his voice. Anything else would be gravy.

  He grabbed his phone.

  Jory answered almost immediately. “Hi. Everything all right?”

  “Yeah. Great. Dev and Kyle have gone back to the cottage to get an early night.” So they were probably shagging away like bunnies right now. If Kyle’s narcolepsy hadn’t cockblocked them again, poor sods. “I’m in the Sea Bell. In my room.” He paused. “Lying on my bed.”

  “Oh. Oh. Is this where I ask you what you’re wearing?”

  “Well, it sorta depends on if you’re alone right now.”

  “Completely. Bran’s working, and Bea is . . . I have no idea what Bea’s doing. But she isn’t doing it where I am.”

  “So where are you, then?”

  “In the kitchen, raiding the fridge.”

  “Find anything good?”

  “There’s parma ham. I’m trying to find something to wrap it round.”

  Mal laughed. “And there was me thinking we’d got off track with the phone sex.”

  There was a pause.

  “Jory?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t want to have phone sex with you.” He paused just long enough for Mal’s blood pressure to go through the bloody stratosphere, then went on, “I’d rather save that sort of thing for when we’re together. At least for now. Does that make sense
?”

  Mal’s heart clenched painfully. “Yeah,” he said, and had to clear his throat. “Not like we got any good memories of actual sex, is it? What with me being such a fucking dick about it that time at the beach.”

  “Mal . . . I wasn’t getting at you.”

  “I know. But you shoulda. I treated you like shit.” Mal scrubbed his eyes. “Wish you were here right now.”

  “I could be. If you want me to.”

  Mal blinked. Of course he could be. He opened his mouth to say Yeah, fuck, come on down, but Jory beat him to it.

  “I don’t mean . . . We don’t have to do anything. All I want is to be with you.”

  “Well, yeah, see, that’s a problem, innit?” Mal said hoarsely. “Cos, you know, I just sorta melted into the duvet. Sorry.”

  Jory’s laugh sounded a bit manic, but that was cool. It was more than cool.

  “Come down here,” Mal told him. “I’ll make sure the back door’s unlocked.”

  It was only half an hour from Roscarrock House to the Sea Bell if you walked it. Slowly. It should’ve taken Jory fuck all time in the car and probably did, but it felt like several hundred years before Mal heard a quiet, cautious tap at his bedroom door.

  “Come in,” he said, ninety-nine percent sure it was Jory, because Tasha? Didn’t knock. She yelled.

  The door opened and Jory stepped through. Mal smiled helplessly as he got up from his sprawl on the bed. “You made it, then?”

  “Yes.” Jory was smiling too, and he looked fucking lovely. So Mal went up to him, slung his arms around Jory’s neck, and kissed him.

  God, he tasted good. Although a bit on the minty side. “Did you clean your teeth? You never said you were going to do that. Now I’m worried my breath stinks.” Shit. Had he cleaned them since those lunchtime pickled onions? Yes. Yes, he had. Thank God.

  “Your breath’s fine,” Jory said, squeezing him tight. “Better than fine.” He kissed Mal again which, fair enough, was a good way of showing he wasn’t just saying that.

  Well, either that or he was just as gone on Mal as Mal was on him.

  “Missed you,” Mal said, cos it was important.

  “Me too. Um. I’m not actually sure what we do now.”

  “Uh, the kissing’s good. Better than good.” Mal thought about it. “We could try it sitting on the bed.”

  They sat down, arms still round each other, and kissed some more until somehow Mal found himself flat on his back with Jory on top of him. Which, yeah, was turning into one of his favourite positions to be in, so he was confused when Jory pulled back, screwed up his face, and said, “Sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “I said we wouldn’t—”

  “Nuh-uh.” Mal was sure of his ground on this one. “You said we didn’t have to. Not that we weren’t gonna.” He thrust his hips up against Jory to make sure Jory knew which page he was on, and it was the one with the rude bits.

  From the hard ridge that met his dick, yeah, Jory was on that page too.

  Jory laughed softly. “I just . . . I don’t want to rush you. I know you’ve had your doubts about us.”

  “I’m an idiot. You don’t wanna listen to me.”

  “You’re not an idiot.”

  “Yeah, I am. I hurt you, didn’t I?”

  Jory cupped Mal’s face in his hand. “It wasn’t your fault. I’d say I forgive you, but there’s nothing to forgive.”

  And . . . that was the biggest load of bollocks Mal had ever heard, but fuck it, if karma was having an off day and dumping a lot of undeserved happiness in his lap, he wasn’t gonna complain. He reached up to grab Jory and pull him down for another kiss, and another, and somehow it ended up with them both shirtless and groping at each other, and it was fucking amazing, and—

  And that was the point Tasha stuck her head round the door and said, “Oi, babe, I know you’re wanking this time, so just keep the noise down, will ya?”

  Jory froze. Mal craned his neck round to check her eyes were closed and said, “Uh, sorry, Tash, got a bit carried away.” Which, as soon as the words had left his mouth, he realised didn’t sound anything like what he’d have said if she had caught him jerking off.

  Tasha frowned and opened one eye a crack. Then she opened them both fully. And sighed. “Riiight. Hi, Jory, good to see you. Imma go shove cotton wool in my ears. And bleach my brain. Night.”

  She left.

  They both cracked up, although Jory’s face went redder than anything Mal had ever seen. “Hey,” Mal said when he’d stopped laughing. “Now’s my chance to check how far down that blush goes.” He made a show of checking out Jory’s chest, not that it took a lot of acting ability cos Jory’s chest was seriously awesome. “Hm, no blush here. Think I’d better check lower down—”

  “Mal?” Jory interrupted him. “Please lock the door first?”

  “Nah, Tasha ain’t gonna be back.”

  “Maybe not, but the thought of Jago Andrewartha bursting in on us—”

  Mal was off that bed and locking the door before you could say Fuck, no! “Right,” he said, trying to switch from freaked out to seductive without passing Go. “It’s just you and me, baby.”

  Jory gave him a look. “I’m seven years older than you. I’m not sure you should be calling me baby.”

  “What do you want me to call you, then?” Mal grinned. “Daddy?”

  “God, no. That’s what Gawen calls me.”

  “Nah, he calls you Dad.”

  “Close enough to be a total turn-off.”

  “Total?” Mal climbed back onto the bed. Well, to be accurate, he climbed onto Jory, which was way more satisfying. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  Jory bucked his hard dick up against Mal’s, which, yeah, was good, but naked would be even better. Mal popped open the button of his own jeans and undid the zip, letting his stiffy spring free.

  “No underwear?” Jory sounded like he approved.

  “Whipped ’em off after we got off the phone.” Mal grinned as he squeezed Jory’s dick through his jeans. “Now, this lot has got to go.”

  He undid Jory’s trousers and pouted. “Aw, kecks, no.”

  Jory laughed. “Sorry I didn’t think to go commando.”

  “Nah, don’t worry, we’ll soon sort that out. But just saying, anytime you wanna put on them tights of yours for a booty call . . .”

  “Really? The climbing tights are what do it for you?”

  “Have you seen your arse in them?” Simply thinking about it was making him harder. Mal pulled Jory’s jeans down far enough to get his hands on that arse and squeeze. “Made me wanna bend you over and fuck you halfway to America.”

  Jory’s eyes were darker than the smugglers’ tunnel at midnight. In, like, a total eclipse. “Could do it now if you want.”

  “Fuck me, you don’t have to offer twice.” Lube, Christ, he needed lube. And a condom. Like, this instant. Mal gave Jory’s gorgeous arse a final squeeze, then scrambled off him to get to his toiletries kit by the door.

  When he turned back again, Jory was naked. And God, what a sight that was. Seven leagues of taut, lean muscle, all laid out like a banquet with Mal the only guest. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” he breathed.

  Jory had this odd, shy look on his face, but it lightened into a smile at Mal’s words. “Come back here and show me you mean that,” he said, letting his legs fall apart in welcome.

  Mal was on that like shite on mice. At least, he wanted to be. Jeans needed to go now. He glanced at his hands, one holding a slightly squashed box of condoms, the other a tube of lube, thought, Fuck this, and said, “Oi, catch,” as he chucked them over to Jory. Then he whipped his jeans off like a lunchtime strippagram with half a dozen calls to make, while Jory caught the stuff like a champ.

  The next bit didn’t go quite so smoothly. He trod badly on his duff ankle and ended up more or less falling on top of Jory. Then again, he was having trouble seeing a downside to that. Especially as they both cracked up laughing.

>   “Oh my God, we should never shoot a sex tape. It’ll end up on one of them TV outtake shows.”

  “No, it won’t,” Jory said seriously, and took hold of Mal’s face to kiss him. It was deeper and more intense than Mal had been expecting. More intimate. Jory pulled back after a mo. “If we shoot a sex tape, nobody gets to watch it but us.”

  And that . . . that took Mal’s breath clean away, cos that was so much how he felt about Jory and had been trying to push down, to smother. “Nobody,” he heard himself agree. “Just you and me.”

  “How do you want me?” Jory asked then, and Mal was torn cos he wanted Jory every way he could have him—but right now, there was only one thing he wanted.

  “Like this. Wanna see you. That okay?”

  Instead of an answer, Jory kissed him again, and it was good, so fucking good. Mal lay on top, feeling like he’d fallen on a live rail, electricity crackling at every point their skin touched. He all but whimpered when he forced himself to pull back.

  “Gotta get you ready,” he said, his voice rough.

  Jory hitched up those long legs of his, exposing himself, and Christ, what a sight. Mal wanted to dive straight in. He grabbed the lube with trembling hands, squeezed out way too much, and set to work with his fingers, teasing and stretching. Jory was tight around him, easing off gradually, then clenching again like he couldn’t help himself. “Relax, babe, I got you,” Mal murmured.

  “I know,” Jory said, and Mal had to stop what he was doing and kiss him for that.

  His hands were too slippery to get the condom out of the packet, so Jory got it for him and rolled it on, his touch so gentle it was bloody frustrating.

  At last, at last, they were both ready. With Jory’s leg over Mal’s shoulder, Mal lined up his rock-hard dick and pushed in slow.

  Sliding inside Jory was like nothing Mal had ever felt before. The electricity was back, crackling and fizzing in his veins and all over his skin. “Oh fuck, that’s good,” he gasped.

  “Yes, God, yes.” Jory’s face was screwed up and so beautiful Mal could cry.

  “Not hurting you, babe?”