God knew how he was planning to cope with that many at once—more if people wanted takeaways. His cousin had agreed to help out on Saturdays and school holidays, but he’d be on his own all week during term time. I had this horrible feeling I was going to end up doing something crazy like offering to help Ollie out myself, and I didn’t do sociable. Not anymore. Never had, really.
The only way I got through my clubbing days was with a skinful of beer or chemicals sending their toxic courage through my system.
Ollie settled down behind me with his legs stretched out on either side. I could feel his warm breath on my earlobe and the mingled scent of sweat and chocolate wove its way around me. The sunlight falling over our legs was dappled by the fluttering leaves of the birch trees outside, and the happy shouts of kids playing sounded in the distance.
Ollie’s arms wrapped around me, and euphoria dissolved through my body.
Not the dizzying chemical rush of my youth but a slower, more stable happiness.
“Wotcha thinking?” Ollie murmured before kissing my neck.
“I want to help you,” I said. “I want to help out. Lunchtimes, or whenever your busiest time is. I could take a few hours out of my day, at least until I go back to the office full time. Get some exercise. See you.” There, it was too late to take it back.
Ollie was quiet for a long time. He wasn’t trying to think of a way to let me down gently, was he? Maybe he didn’t want me hanging around here. Maybe he thought I was too old and too grumpy to be any use with the customers.
“Do you really mean that?” Ollie asked.
“Of course I do,” I snapped. “Wouldn’t have offered otherwise, would I?”
“No need to get all defensive. I just, I didn’t have you down as the barista type. Thought you’d rather incinerate your porn collection than make tea and clean up after sticky-fingered children.”
“Are you saying I’m unnaturally attached to my porn?”
Ollie laughed against my neck, and it tickled.
“I’m just saying you surprised me, that’s all. Anyway, I love surprises.”
“So is that a yes?”
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“’Course it is, you daft sod. Why on earth would I turn you down? I’m gonna need all the help I can get for this place to work, seeing as how I’m just a dumb houseboy.” Ollie’s tone was teasing, but his words sliced me up inside.
I twisted round to look at him. “Don’t talk crap! I mean,” I added, seeing the wounded look in his eyes, “look at everything you’ve done with this place. That takes vision. That takes determination and hard work.”
Ollie gave a secretive smile.
“What?”
“I’ve got another vision.”
“Oh yeah?” I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know, but there was this stirring in my guts that prompted me.
“Yeah. I could draw you a picture if you like.” Ollie’s hand snaked down and covered the bulge at my crotch. “I’ve gotta warn you, I’m determined to get what I want, even if it is hard work.” He emphasised the last two words with strokes to my cock, making it twitch and swell in response.
Shit, I wanted him. Not here, though. “Stop, someone might see.” I didn’t sound all that convinced, I’ve got to say, but as there had been passersby peering in through the windows all morning, I didn’t want to risk it.
My dick begged to differ, standing to attention and demanding Ollie’s touch.
I swear, that thing had a mind of its own.
“I’ve got an idea. Hold that thought.” Ollie pressed my own hand down over my erection, and I kept it there in a rather halfhearted effort at concealment, enjoying the press of my palm against needy flesh.
Ollie stood up and moved away, heading over to the pile of equipment he’d had delivered.
“What are you up to?” I demanded, seeing him lift one of the plastic-wrapped beanbags down from the stack of boxes.
“You’ll see.” Ollie grinned and chucked the beanbag behind the counter. I heard it land with a whisper of polystyrene beads. Then he hefted another box onto the counter. “This needs to go here anyway.”
I watched, bemused, as Ollie built a wall of boxes along the countertop.
“Come on. I’ve built a secret love nest back here. We need to give it a trial run.”
“I’ve still got a week to go. You know, until—”
“C’mon, Ben. Live a little.”
Further protest dried up in my throat. Ollie looked so fucking sexy, leaning against the counter with his eyes like saucers and his hips thrust forward. I rose to my feet and tottered over on wobbly legs, Ollie’s smile drawing me in like a lure.
I went to kiss him, but he dodged me.
“Uh-uh. I want you sitting on that. No arguments. You’ve done a lot today, and you need some rest and relaxation.” He indicated the beanbag, still wrapped in cellophane but looking surprisingly inviting. I settled down on it with the wall supporting my back. The beads hissed around me and the surface was slippery, but I was able to get comfy.
“This beanbag’s great.”
“Yeah, I forked out a bit for two new ones, since I’m gonna be sleeping on them.”
“You’re what?”
Ollie fixed me with a level gaze. “I’ve got to get out of Meera and Omar’s before the baby comes, and I haven’t had any other offers of a place to stay.”
“So you’d rather bed down on a beanbag in a cold shop?”
“I’d rather bed down with you.”
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He had me there. I gazed into his eyes, searching for even a trace of manipulation, but all I saw was honest desire. I thought about the prospect of falling asleep beside Ollie, of breathing in the scent of his skin, and of waking up beside him every morning. It was terrifying, but I wanted it.
“What are you frightened of?” Ollie asked. “You get this look in your eyes every time I suggest any kind of commitment.”
He didn’t seem pissed off—more sad than anything else. I hated seeing him like that, so I took a deep breath and gathered up the tattered rags of my courage.
“I’m scared that you’ll get sick of me. You’ll see me at my worst and you won’t want me anymore. I don’t know if I’ll be able to cope if you leave me after I’ve got used to having you around all the time.”
Ollie gave a sad smile and stroked my cheek. “Why would you think that? I think you’re amazing.”
“I’m not amazing. Far from it.” I looked down at my hands. He’d been honest with me, and I deserved to give him the full picture of the man he wanted to hitch his fortunes to, warts and all. “I fucked up my health taking drugs, and the last guy I hooked up with died because of me.”
“That’s bullshit. Zoe told me it wasn’t your fault.”
“Zoe told you about that?” I wanted to be angry at them talking about me behind my back, but instead, I was simply relieved that he didn’t seem to blame me. Maybe I could finally let go of some of the guilt I’d been clinging on to. “You know I used to be a complete arsehole, then. I just used blokes for sex. I didn’t care who they were.”
Ollie’s eyes still gazed on me with understanding. “You were just letting off steam after being responsible for Zoe all those years. It was only to be expected.”
“Honestly, I’ve no idea what you see in me.”
His smile quirked into mischief. “You want me to give you a list?”
“It might help.”
“Okay, then, you’re funny and kind and patient, and I’ve never met anyone less arrogant in my life. You’re this incredibly hot and sexy bear of a man, but you don’t seem to know it.” I flushed at that one and was going to interrupt, but Ollie put a finger to my lips and carried on. “You’re a fantastic lover, and you take the time to make me feel incredible. You encourage me to get on and do something with my life. And the way you look at me…” Ollie looked down at the ground with a strange expression, but when he raised his gaze, his eyes were shining. “You make me feel special.”
/>
“You are special.” What was I, nuts? How could I force the man I loved into sleeping on a beanbag in a cold café every night? “Ollie, will you move in with me?”
“You really mean it?”
“I mean it.” I’m sure my face must have registered as much shock as his. I hadn’t been expecting to make that offer, but the moment I did, I knew it was what I wanted more than anything else.
“I’d fucking love to!” Ollie climbed onto my lap and kissed me enthusiastically, and the celebratory mood must have been infectious because before I realised what was happening, he had my trackie bottoms pooled around my ankles and my cock in his hand.
“We can’t! What if someone sees?”
He gave me a tolerant smile. “No one’s gonna see anything. What d’you think those boxes are for?”
I looked up at the wall he’d built and realised for the first time how private this space was. “Did you lock the door?”
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“Stop trying to distract me,” Ollie murmured as he bent over me. I put my hand out to stop him. “Yes! I locked the bloody door. Now, are you going to let me give you this blowjob or not, coz I’ve been waiting for-fucking-ever and I really, really want to do this. Please, Ben.” His voice went as soft as the expression in his eyes, and I let go of his shoulder. Let him do what he wanted.
What I wanted.
The first touch of his tongue to my half-hard dick set my skin ablaze. I yelped, but a few more licks and kisses soon had me so rigid I ached. With one hand wrapped around me and applying a gentle pressure, Ollie ducked down farther and lapped my balls. A deep groan vibrated through me, and I screwed my eyes shut in embarrassment. Sounded way too pathetic and needy. Mind you, it had been, what, about a month since I’d last come? I hadn’t even had a wet dream yet. Jesus, that must be some kind of record—not just for me but for any man. Especially for one with such an extensive library of masturbatory aids.
And, let’s not forget, one with a horny young boyfriend who looked at him like he was a fucking hero, no matter how little he deserved it.
Ollie sucked one of my balls into his mouth with a hungry moan, and I swear I nearly shot my load then and there. My body jerked, and while there was a little stiffness in my abdomen, it didn’t really hurt. Not enough to make me ask him to stop, anyway.
“Mmm, you taste amazing,” Ollie said between nuzzles as he licked and nibbled a tortuously slow trail up to the tip of my dick. “All salty, like a bag of crisps.”
I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing.
“What?” Ollie said, all mock innocent as he held my cock and gave a lick to the end. “Yeah, I’m getting hints of roast beef with an undercurrent of gravy.
Mmm, savoury!”
“Shut up!” I wheezed, desperately trying to calm my shaking body. It still hurt to give a belly laugh, but it was worth it.
Made me think it would be worth it to have an orgasm too.
“You taste sweet,” I said. “Like a mocha.”
“I’ve got mocha spunk? Nice one! No one’s ever said that before.”
“No, your skin. But there might be a hint of it in your jizz, now you come to mention it. I’d have to try it again to confirm, but I think the predominant flavour is brine.” I nodded sagely, doing my best impression of a wine connoisseur. I didn’t want to betray the way my heart was thundering within me at the prospect of what Ollie was about to do.
“Well, I’ll have to give you some tasting notes when I’ve finished,” Ollie murmured before enveloping my cockhead in the moist heat of his mouth.
“Fu-u-u-uck!” The word shuddered out of me, and I had to reach out for Ollie’s head, had to take a double handful of his vibrant, red hair. Last time it had been purple, and I had a strange sense of déjà vu, of two overlapping scenes.
I remembered the way Ollie had looked at me, tube and all, with lust brimming in his eyes. As if he could read my thoughts, he moved his spare hand from my hip and found the puckered scar, gently teasing it with his fingertips. He took me deep, then eased off again and winked at me.
“Later,” Ollie said.
“Huh?” I had to fight the urge to shove his head back down again.
“We’ll fuck. Later. Back home.”
“Okay.” I sank back into the cellophane-wrapped beanbag as Ollie began to suck me off in earnest. I can’t honestly say if it was his technique or the fact it was only my second blow job in over four years, but I had to shut my eyes and concentrate on the nasty slide of the plastic under my sweaty arse to keep myself 158
from coming too fast. But then I got to thinking about what I’d just agreed to, and the thought of sinking deep into Ollie’s pert little bum set my balls boiling.
Of course, that would have to be the moment Ollie took his hand away from my dick and deep-throated me. As he swallowed around my cockhead, squeezing me tight, it was like my whole body contracted then expanded. My hips jerked, my scar throbbed, and my dick shot pulses of bright pleasure that threatened to rip me apart.
When I finally opened my eyes, still panting, still shuddering, Ollie was watching me in this weird, tender way. Like he was the elder of the two of us and I’d just impressed him by learning some new trick.
I couldn’t take too much of looking into his eyes, so I transferred my attention to his mouth and watched as a dribble of jizz escaped when he grinned.
“Messy boy,” I chided, wiping it away with a trembling finger.
“You can come all over my face later if you like,” Ollie offered.
“Jesus!” My head hit the wall with a painful thunk. “Yes, I do like. What are you trying to do to me?”
“Just keeping my man happy.”
“Believe me, I’m happy.”
“Yeah, I thought so.” Ollie caressed my cheek and gave me another of those odd, tender gazes. I tried to change the subject.
“You want a hand job? Or a blowjob?” I wasn’t sure I was up to either after my morning’s exertions, but I’d try my best for Ollie.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Don’t tell me you came in your pants.”
Ollie laughed and stood up, lifting my unresisting hand to feel his erection through his jeans. “Nope. I just want to wait. I want to come in our bed while you’re pounding my arse. I think I deserve it, don’t you?”
My throat went dry, and I stared up at him, no longer able to think of a single reason why we shouldn’t be at it like rabbits.
Well, except for the fact that my body seemed to have turned to jelly.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Ollie said, then turned on his heel and strutted off. “You have a rest while I wash the brushes; then we’ll stop by Omar’s and pick up my stuff, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered to Ollie’s retreating back.
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Chapter Twenty
When we got to Omar and Meera’s place, they were both out at work, thank God, as I really didn’t fancy another showdown with Mr. Macho. We’d gone straight there at Ollie’s insistence. I’d tried to persuade him that the MG wasn’t really a suitable moving vehicle and we should wait to hire a van, but he’d said that we’d have plenty of room. I was amazed to see how right he was when I stepped into the box room he’d had as his bedroom. There was only one narrow, high-up window, but it cast enough light to see how pitifully sparse the furnishings were.
“Is this everything you own?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice. There were a couple of piles of comics and graphic novels on the floor, a plastic toolbox full of art materials, a laptop covered in stickers, a chest of drawers stuffed full of clothes, and a few plastic spaceships hanging from the ceiling—but that was it. With no other furniture than a narrow air mattress on the floor, the room could have been depressing if it hadn’t been for the brightly inked pictures all over the walls. Representations of skateboarders jostled with sketches of Cyber-Ben and Sidekick-Ollie—fortunately not the pornographic ones, though, as I didn’t like the idea of his hosts
clapping their eyes on those.
Ollie bustled past me with an armful of empty carrier bags. “Yeah, this is it.
Well, there’s my skateboard and a couple of jackets by the front door, and I’ve got a mug in the kitchen, but everything else is in here. Oh, and don’t worry about the airbed or the chest of drawers. Those both belong to Omar and Meera.”
I felt chastened to think that Ollie’d had to come back to this joyless little cell every night when I could easily have asked him to stay at mine.
“Why don’t you sit in the living room and have a rest? Won’t take me a moment to pack this lot up.” Ollie pulled out one of the drawers and began stuffing T-shirts haphazardly into one of the bags.
“I want to help you. I could fold those for you. They’ll get all creased if you don’t pack them properly.” Come to think of it, they probably already were, as they looked like they’d been shoved into the drawer with the same amount of finesse.
Ollie grinned like I’d said something funny. “They’re only T-shirts. Chill.”
He stuffed a second carrier bag with pants and socks. “Tell you what, if you want to help with something that takes a bit of care, how about you take my pictures down? You can stick ’em in here.” He reached behind the chest of drawers to pull out one of those big zip-up folders the art students at school all used to have.
“Glad to be of use,” I said and began gently removing the pictures from the wall. Ollie had used blu-tack, so it took real care not to pull off chunks of the paintwork as well. I studied the pictures as I worked. “We should frame these.
Put them up at my place. Our place,” I corrected myself, blushing.
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