by AE Lister
He liked this idea and arrived in a great mood on Saturday.
“Vincent, good to see you.”
“Sir. I brought my stuff.”
“I see that. Why don’t you put your bag upstairs?”
“Yes, Sir.” He smiled, taking his bag with him.
I followed him to see what he thought of the changes I’d made to my room. I’d cleared a space on the bedside table so he could use it. I’d emptied the drawers as well. Half of the closet had been cleared so he could hang his stuff up if he wanted to. I had found some well-made models of sailboats at my local thrift store that I’d placed around the room.
When he noticed them, he stopped and glanced behind him. “Did you get those for me?”
I shrugged. “For both of us. I love the ones at your place, and if you end up spending all your time here, you’re welcome to bring them over and put them out downstairs…if you want.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We went downstairs for a piano practice, after which Vincent made us lunch. While we were eating, there was a knock on my door. We looked at each other.
“I’m not expecting anyone,” I said, standing up and walking to the door. I peeked out.
It was Daphne and, of all people, Zane.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Why has she brought him here?” I said, more to myself than anything. I didn’t want to open the door except I hadn’t seen Daphne in ages and she saw me looking and raised her eyebrows with her hands on her hips.
“Open the door, Nic. Zane has something he wants to say to you,” she said loudly.
“I don’t think I want to talk to him.”
Vincent came over to stand with me.
“Open the door, Nic,” Daphne said again.
And because Daphne was literally the only person, besides maybe Vincent, who could tell me what to do, I opened the door.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Daphne said, glancing at Vincent. “Vincent. I’m glad you’re here. This won’t take a moment. Zane?”
Daphne looked glorious in a beautiful camel-colored wool coat and knee-high leather boots, her long hair in an artfully messy updo, face made up expertly.
She pushed Zane forward. He crossed his arms like a spoiled child.
“Daphne wants me to apologize for sending Vincent to you, even though it looks like it’s worked out great for you.”
I crossed my arms too. It was a stand-off. “It has. But it doesn’t count as an apology, Zane. And it was a sneaky and infantile thing to do.”
“Fine. I’m very sorry about everything. I’m sorry for making you feel used and like a freak.” He stared at me and I realized he was actually being sincere. “You’re not a freak and I never thought of you that way. You’re pretty fucking amazing, Nic. Just because I didn’t reciprocate your feelings for me doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re a goddamn kickass girl.”
Daphne kicked him in the shin.
“Ow. I mean, guy. You’re a kickass guy, Nic.”
“Whatever. You need to apologize to Vincent.” I felt nothing except disgust for Zane, after hearing what he’d done to Vincent.
He blinked. “I’m sorry for using you to my own ends, Vincent. I’m glad it worked out, though.”
“No, not for that. For the other thing.”
“What?”
“For ignoring his safeword during an electro session.” I enunciated this clearly so Daphne heard every word.
She stepped back from Zane and gave him a scathing look, like she’d just discovered a piece of stinky shit on the bottom of her boot. “What the fuck? Is that true?”
Zane looked genuinely scared of Daphne—and he should be.
“He was having lots of fun. Weren’t you, Vincent?”
Vincent shook his head. “I safeworded, Sir.”
“Don’t call that fucker ‘Sir’,” I said quickly.
“Nic, shut up,” Daphne said. “Zane, is that true? Did you ignore Vincent’s safeword?”
Zane shrugged. “Look… He seemed to be enjoying it. He came like gangbusters pretty soon after.”
“Soon. After. What?” Daphne’s voice sent shivers down my spine and hopefully turned Zane’s bowels to water.
“Fine. After he’d said his safeword. Yeah, he said it and I ignored it and it was only a few minutes before he came hard. Like, really hard. What is the problem?”
“Wow. You’re an even bigger asshole than I thought,” Daphne said. “Get your ass out of here.”
“You’re the one who brought me!”
“So? Call an Uber. I’m done with you.” She turned to me. “Can I come in, Nic?”
“Absolutely,” I said, holding the door for her while Zane’s mouth opened as if to protest. “Don’t come back here,” I told him as I slammed the door shut behind her. “What the fuck, Daphne?”
Daphne shook her head with regret. “I’m sorry, Nic. I thought if he apologized in person, things would be okay between you. I see now that I way overestimated his importance to either of us. What a knob.”
Vincent cleared his throat. “May I say something?”
“Yes,” we both said. Daphne took off her coat and handed it to me, revealing a pretty blue cotton dress that accentuated all her curves.
My sweet boy gazed down at the floor as he spoke. “I just wanted to say that when he had that fucking evil electro plug up my ass, I did come but I didn’t get any fucking pleasure out of it. I hated it and I didn’t trust him after that. If he hadn’t sent me to Daphne, I wouldn’t have kept going to him.”
I moved toward him and tipped his chin to make him look at me then took his hands, staring into his beautiful blue eyes and raining silent curses on Zane and anyone else who would blithely hurt my boy. “You don’t have to defend yourself, sweetheart. What Zane did was wrong…on so many levels.”
Daphne nodded. “You just can’t ignore a safeword in this lifestyle. You just fucking can’t. Believe me, I’ll be letting the community know Zane doesn’t follow proper protocols. He’ll be blacklisted by tomorrow.”
“Okay. Good,” Vincent said, not breaking eye contact with me. A silent promise flowed between us. He could trust me to never ignore his wishes and I could trust him to tell me when he needed a break.
Finally, I let go of his hands and straightened. “You want a cup of tea, Daphne?” I asked, hoping to save her visit. And it was really, really awesome to see her. I pulled her into a hug.
“It’s wonderful to see you,” I said out loud because, hey, maybe I’d matured a little.
She squeezed me tight. “Oh, Nic, I’ve missed you. We have to get together more often. And, yes, I’d love a cup of tea.”
“Awesome. I’ll have Vincent make us some.”
Daphne grinned. “Can you tell him to take off his shirt, at least?”
I looked at Vincent, who rolled his eyes but smiled.
“I can do even better,” I told her. “Vincent, Daphne is my guest, and as such, she is allowed to make requests of you.” I snapped my head around and shot Daphne a death glare while I continued speaking to Vincent. “Not anything personal and she can’t touch you. But you have to listen to her unless I say otherwise.”
“Sure. I mean, yes, Sir.”
“Good boy.”
Daphne pulled out a chair and sat down. “Vincent, please make us a pot of tea. I want you to strip to your underwear, if that’s okay with you. If not, I will allow you to simply remove your shirt.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He peeled off his shirt, then undid the zipper and buttons of his jeans and pushed them down, revealing another surprise.
“Oh, hell,” I said.
“Well, well, well,” Daphne said, eyeing him eagerly. “Seems I missed an interesting opportunity.”
Vincent was wearing a new pair of panties. These were black with a cross-hatched design and striping along the waistband. They looked virtually transparent and Vincent’s cock was perfectly visible under the material, swollen and a
rching toward his right hip.
“Are those new, Vincent?” I asked, because I’d never seen them before.
“Yes, Sir.”
I clicked my tongue and walked up to him, holding his gaze as I reached out and cupped his balls then stroked my hand along his dick. He closed his eyes and whimpered.
“They are very, very nice. I’m so glad you’re able to show them off for Daphne.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“Perhaps a little twirl is in order. Vincent, turn around, please. I’d like to see you from behind,” Daphne said.
Vincent blushed and flashed me a questioning look. I inclined my head.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said, slowly turning around in a full circle.
Daphne whistled. “My goodness. He looks gorgeous in those. Well done, Nic.”
“That was all Vincent,” I said proudly. “He likes to be pretty for me.”
Vincent made a pot of tea and the three of us sat around my table and chatted and shot the shit. Daphne and I took turns teasing Vincent until his cock was so hard that I thought he might come right there in the middle of the kitchen. But Daphne noticed and decided to make her exit.
“Looks like he has something else for you, Nic. And, anyway, I must go. But it was fantastic to see you. I’m just sorry I brought that loser with me.”
“He’s long gone, I’m sure. And he won’t be back.”
We made plans to meet for coffee at her place the following week after she made Vincent promise to wear something sexy under his jeans again, which he did.
After showing her out, I turned to Vincent. “Okay, you saucy minx. Come here.”
He moved close and I grabbed his ass, pulling him into me, rubbing myself against his dick in those see-through panties. “That was one hell of an unveiling, I must say.” I fingered the waistband. “I love these.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“No. Call me Nic. Daphne’s gone and I want to be Vincent and Nic.”
I took his hand and led him upstairs.
I laid my prince down on the clean sheets of my king bed and peeled the panties off him. I took his cock into my mouth, sucking and licking him and showing how much I appreciated his little gift. He sat up on his elbows and watched me, occasionally closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, then watching me again like he couldn’t get enough of it.
“Stop. Stop, I don’t want to come yet,” he said.
I did stop but stared at him in surprise. This was so unlike Vincent that I was perplexed until he said, “I want to go down on you, Nic.”
I smiled. “Okay. Sure.”
Then I stripped and I didn’t even mind that he was watching me, his eyes roaming freely over my nakedness that some days didn’t match the way I thought of myself.
At that moment I didn’t care. I lay back and watched as Vincent nosed into my crotch with the excitement of a teenager at his first hook-up. Soon, I couldn’t keep my eyes open because I wanted to concentrate fully on the sensations of his tongue, his lips—God—his fingers as they pushed into me and stoked my desire.
“Ah, Vincent, Oh,” I groaned as he made me come multiple times then climbed over top and pushed his cock deep inside me, making me come again as he came with a deep, long groan.
We lay there afterward, breathing hard and exhausted, our sweaty bodies entwined and wet.
When Vincent pulled out of me and rolled me over into his embrace, he kissed the top of my head like I was a cherished pet.
“I love you, Nic.”
Instead of saying it back, because he knew I fucking did and it just sounded so cheesy, I kissed him softly, pulled back and stared my truth into his eyes.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
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Starting Over: The Divorce
Matthew J. Metzger
Excerpt
“Tinder or Grindr?”
For a long minute, Aled’s brain refused to understand the words. He stared blankly. He’d only been home for ten minutes and was still in his suit. Words like budget, memo, marketing directive—those words he could understand. Tinder and Grindr meant nothing.
“What?”
His best friend’s boyfriend huffed an enormously annoyed sigh and Aled frowned.
“I don’t usually get people knocking on the door asking about dating apps,” he said defensively. “Not even you’re that weird.”
Tom just rolled his eyes. “Tinder”—he wiggled the phone in his left hand—“or Grindr?” He wiggled the phone in his right.
“Why do you have Grindr?” Aled asked slowly, then backtracked. “Why are you on my doorstep asking me about hook-up sites? With two phones? Who needs two phones? Why are you even here?”
“Er, fourth of January? You, me, Suze, drinks at The Mason’s Arms? Any of this ringing any bells?”
“Not in the mood? Don’t feel like celebrating? Thirty-three isn’t an important number? Any of that ringing any bells?” Aled asked sarcastically and closed the front door.
Or tried to. Tom shoved his size twelve boot in the way and impeded matters somewhat.
“Tom, seriously, I don’t feel like—”
“Tough,” Tom said. “It’s your birthday and we’re not having no for an answer this time. And Suze is too soft to say no to you, so she sent me.”
Typical.
“I don’t want anything except a pizza in front of the telly. Now go away.”
Tom snorted. “Is there someone sharing your pizza?”
“What? No.”
“Then find one—Tinder or Grindr?”
“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Aled asked, pointedly eyeing Tom’s boot.
“No.”
“Fine. I’ll get my bloody coat. And put those phones away. Why do you have Grindr?”
Tom made an excuse about a spare phone borrowed from his younger brother and shoved his way into the hall. He even followed Aled upstairs to keep chatting outside his bedroom door while Aled found some jeans and a decent shirt. Aled tuned him out. Tom was a talker and always had been.
“That’ll do,” Tom said when Aled re-emerged. “Put the good coat on. We’re going to get you laid.”
Aled narrowed his eyes. “No chance. One drink. That’s it. I don’t feel like going out in the first place.”
Tom stopped dead at the top of the stairs. He was a big lad, built for rugby and about as fluid as a brick wall. Aled, at five seven, had no choice but to wait for him to move.
“You haven’t felt like doing anything for a year.”
Aled’s temper sparked. “That’s none of your—”
“Knock it off,” Tom said sharply. His usually jovial voice had dropped to a grave timbre. “It’s been a year and all you’ve done is work mad hours. And when you do come home, you drink yourself into a stupor and go through all your pictures. Enough’s enough. You’ve got to stop wallowing and start living again.”
“She’s my wife—”
“And she’s gone.”
Aled swallowed thickly, shaking his head.
“She’s gone, mate. She’s not dead—she left. She’s moved on. Time for you to do the same.”
The words were soft, but they felt sharp. Aled’s heart tightened and he jumped when Tom’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed.
“Come on,” he coaxed. “Come out for a few pints and a curry with me and Suze. Like we used to. If you don’t want to hook up with someone, then fine. But let’s have a laugh and go through some profiles anyway, yeah?”
Aled laughed bitterly. “You call that moving on?”
“I call it better than sitting here in the dark with your wedding photos.”
“She’s my wife. What else am I supposed to do? I love her. I still love her. I’m always going to love her.”
“I know. And I’m not arguing with that. But you’re heading right for a breakdown, mate, and you’re a better man than that. You thi
nk me and Suze are just going to watch you chuck in the towel for Melissa?”
Aled blinked, startled. “Chuck in the—I’m not bloody suicidal.”
“Don’t have to be to train-wreck your life.”
Aled worked his jaw but said nothing. Christ, no wonder Suze had sent Tom round if that was what they thought. The anger ebbed and was replaced with a sickly sort of guilt. He didn’t see nearly enough of either of them these days—no pub quiz, no pint and pie on Friday evenings, not even swimming with Suze after work. He never left on time. Or he just didn’t feel like it.
Tom was right.
He hadn’t felt like doing much of anything.
“So your solution is to find me another wife?” he joked weakly.
Tom snorted with laughter and finally moved. The stairs creaked under their combined weight and he threw Aled’s leather jacket at him from the hooks in the hall.
“I’m not talking love, you daft berk. No fucker finds love on Tinder and Grindr. I’m talking about sex.”
Stooping to lace his boots, Aled laughed. “You what?”
“Sex? You know, clothes off, penis in vagina? Or in arse, whatever takes your fancy.”
“You think having a shag will snap me out of it?”
“Might remind you there’s better things to do than sit around waiting for things to change,” Tom said flatly. “Might kick-start a bit of the bloody fun meter that’s been sorely lacking lately. And I’ve got a couple of suggestions.”
Aled smirked. “No offence, but we’re not exactly into the same things.”
“Understatement of the century, you kinky, queer bastard.” Tom grinned then towed Aled out of the door and barely let him lock up. They walked to the main road in a companionable silence, then Tom hailed a taxi and told Aled to shut up and put up when he moaned about going farther than the local round the corner.
“Suze gave you plenty of chances to pick a place.”
Aled grimaced. “I’ve got some making up to do, don’t I?”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
They talked Suze—Tom’s girlfriend, Aled’s best friend—and some new yoga class she was trying to get Tom involved in. Aled’s throat felt rusty and his jaw ached, like he hadn’t just chatted for an age. But his shoulders eased and the vague headache he’d been nursing all day at the office dissipated in Tom’s relaxed company.