“I would have, you know,” George whispered against his skin. “Right there in the changing room, you and I.”
“I’ve thought about it so often, I’ve lain here and imagined it and wished I’d said something. Wished so many things—” Henry stopped. Wished I’d never accused you of stealing that bloody trophy. He laughed because George was smiling and Henry suspected that he was thinking exactly the same thing.
“Doesn’t matter now, because here we are.” Then, his lips still tracing gentle patterns across Henry’s torso, George admitted, “I’ve got medals but I don’t have condoms. Tell me you planned ahead, darling?”
Henry beamed at him. “Of course I’ve got johnnies—I bought them the other day. And lube. No chap wants to get caught short like that, do they? Most inconvenient.”
George’s reply was to go lower still, drawing his tongue down Henry’s erection. His hand, meanwhile, slipped around Henry’s waist and over his bottom but this time—was Henry mistaken or was there the suggestion of a finger teasing just between his buttocks?
Henry sighed his lover’s name.
And that finger slipped a little deeper, easing inside him. Now George’s mouth was on his chest again, licking and kissing, his teeth grazing Henry’s nipple. Soft sounds of pleasure rose in his throat and George responded by moving his finger, encouraging his lover on.
George’s erection pressed against Henry’s thigh. It promised so much pleasure, bliss that Henry had dared himself to think about over the years but had never hoped to experience. Henry stretched toward the bedside table and gathered up a box and a tube with one hand.
“George… Shall I do the honors?”
“God yes,” George gasped. “Please.”
Henry unwrapped the cellophane from the box and took out a condom. His hands were shaking with building pleasure as he tore the packet open with his teeth—a skill he had learned not from nights of wild sex in Brighton, for he had never had any, but from working as a vet all these years.
He slid the condom onto George with the gentle precision he used on his patients, then flipped open the tube. He slicked lubricant over George’s sheathed cock, watching the joy in his lover’s face at his touch and the anticipation of what was to follow.
Henry panted. “George—give me your fingers.”
He was quick to obey, his lips falling to Henry’s neck again, gentle groans in his throat sending soft tremors over his skin. Getting carried away, Henry squeezed the lubricant across George’s fingers and the excess dropped onto his skin. But fortunately, not on the jacket.
“Whoops—making a mess!”
“One or two of these medals have pointy bits,” George told him playfully, his hand returning once more to Henry’s bottom. “Do say if they catch you?”
“I rather like the idea of—oooh!—that.”
“You saucy sort,” was the teasing reply. George had introduced another finger—stretching Henry, preparing him, he knew.
And was it obvious to George that Henry had never done this before? Or would he have to take a deep breath and announce, “George, I’m a virgin—as far as—you know—my bottom is concerned.”
And he’d said it.
“We’ll go slowly.” George lifted his head to meet Henry’s gaze. His green eyes were so full of love that Henry’s breath was almost stolen from his body. “Everything’s on your terms, darling.”
“I love you, dear old Captain Standy-Bee—you know that, don’t you?” Henry was so happy that he was sure he’d cry. But he didn’t. He smiled instead and pulled George to him, into a kiss. It went on and on, the medals warm against his skin now, but not as warm as George’s lips on Henry’s, and still George’s fingers were moving, deeper than ever.
Henry broke from the kiss for long enough to sigh a question. “Am I ready, darling?”
George gave a sound of acknowledgment that was caught in their kiss and slipped his leg between Henry’s. He withdrew his finger, then his hands were on Henry’s hips, urging him to lift them a little higher. Henry obeyed on instinct, feeling the hardness of George’s erection against him, the softness of the fabric under his fingers, the heat of their touching skin.
As George entered Henry, Henry knew some essence of himself had entered George. Their bodies were linked in the most intimate way they could be, with a tenderness that made Henry ache for the unreachable part of himself and George that, in those sweet moments, had at last become tangible.
George didn’t rush, and Henry knew it was for his benefit, that he wasn’t allowing himself to get carried away. Slowly, slowly, he nudged his way inside and retreated again, then advanced once more, deeper. He took his time, with gentle thrusts, gradually building until, with one final push of his hips, he had entered his lover entirely.
Henry lay underneath him, his fingers twining with George’s where he held his hips, barely blinking as he gazed into the green eyes that blazed down at him with love and passion, all the secrets of his soul laid bare. George’s beautiful body, the perfect muscular planes of his chest, the toned stomach, were all revealed to Henry through the unbuttoned jacket, without shame, without fear. Only with love, and the need to connect.
George’s movements were slow but sure, gentle despite the hardness of his body, and he kept a steady pace with each thrust, coaxing Henry further along the path of pleasure. He lowered his head to dot exquisite, tender kisses to his lover’s lips, his tongue exploring as though this were their very first kiss.
His fingers still entwined with Henry’s, George lifted his hand to take Henry’s erection in his grip. Their joined palms stroked and caressed, teasing out every moment of delicious ecstasy.
Henry could feel the might in George’s body, the tensing of the muscles in his torso, in his legs, with each delicious thrust. Could George feel Henry’s body, his hips moving of their own accord, following George’s rhythm in perfect time? It was a wonder that something so intense could be so gentle, and moments, minutes stretched out, time forgotten even as their hearts beat out the seconds of the day against each other’s body. Henry grasped George’s thick hair with his free hand, holding him close, enjoying him, tasting him, two lovers wrapped about each other, entering into bliss.
George, of course, wasn’t quiet—when was he ever—but the sounds were soft, each gentle moan against Henry’s lips sending a new erotic thrill through their kisses. His arm slid around Henry’s waist, lifting his hips even higher until George was as deep as he could be, and Henry felt as though they had truly become one.
“I love you,” he gasped, catching Henry’s lip very softly with his teeth. “My beautiful Fitz…”
“My darling George! My handsome captain.”
Henry groaned—the pleasure, the closeness, the tender infinity that they had plunged into, the glory of their bodies combining. Wanting and being wanted, loving and being loved.
“Together.” George gasped the promise, his muscles tensing against Henry’s body again as he drew out their lovemaking. “Always…”
“Always,” Henry sighed. He brought his leg up to embrace George’s waist. “Together…” he breathed.
George’s hand tightened just a little against Henry’s cock in response, his kisses growing hungrier as they tumbled toward bliss in a tangle of limbs and sighs, utterly united.
A tremble ran through Henry, beginning like the touch of feathers in his toes and fingertips. It grew into a shudder, as if a renewal of life itself were rushing through his veins, uncontrollable and unafraid. He clung to it, resisting the urge to surrender himself, drawing more sweetness from the intensity.
Ecstasy shuddered through him. His lover was the only thought in his head, the only sensation he could feel. He tried to say his name, but the only sound that spilled from his throat was a deep cry of joy.
And there was George with him, both of them soaring into that light, making it brighter with their kisses, more dazzling with every sigh of pleasure. There didn’t seem to be an end to their bliss, as if
forever on into the future they would be together, embracing, cocooned in an aurora of love.
George sank down onto Henry, holding him close, the medals pressed against Henry’s bare skin. His head rested on his lover’s shoulder, that thick, dark hair tickling his face, and together they stayed there, unmoving, locked in each other’s arms.
Henry felt peace, stillness, and a viscous silence that flowed around them as sure and soft as the sea. His bed had become an island, solely for himself and George—and in one moment plucked from many, they had finally found the love that had ever eluded them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lil opened the front door before George had time to knock. She must have been waiting behind the curtain. Her eyes were large with astonishment and at first Henry wondered if something had happened to Jez overnight. But he dismissed the thought because it was all too obvious—Lil was trying to hide a broad grin.
“You’re, like, famous?” Was there any need to tell George that? Henry put his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh, but realized it wasn’t only George that she was addressing. “No—you’re, like, trending online? Hashtag mystery man?”
“You’re going to have to say that in English.” George laughed. “My agent does all that stuff, I just talk about history.”
“On, like, social media? My friend Gemma took a photo? Of you two, like, dancing? And put it online?” Lil grinned as she swiped her phone’s screen. “And now everyone’s sharing it and going like hashtag gsb mystery man and like hashtag I want to find a man who looks at me like that and hashtag gorgeous George’s gorgeous guy? It’s been shared like two thousand times since last night?”
“What?” George’s tone was shell-shocked, and he glanced at Henry. “Are you serious?”
Nervous laughter tickled Henry’s throat. George laughed too, but it sounded forced, and Henry could see from the tightening of his lover’s jaw that he was desperate to know more. He couldn’t ask, though, could he, because then she might start to wonder, and what would George do then? Yet would it be the end of the world in the twenty-first century? Hardly, Henry was sure, and he felt a nudge of something, a wish that George wasn’t so troubled by it.
“How’s my boy?” George’s voice was cheery again. “Had a good night?”
Lil put her phone in her pocket and visibly changed gears, her face moving from awed-to-be-in-celebrity-presence to friendly rural girl.
“He’s had a well massive time with the donkeys.”
Henry marveled at what this meant. Had they danced about with glow sticks at some sort of animal rave?
“Let’s go and have a look at him?” George took his hand from behind his back and held out the bunch of vibrant flowers he had been concealing. “For you, Miss Lil, to say thanks for looking after my little fellow so well.”
“Oh wow! They’re so beautiful!”
Lil, nursing the flowers in her arms, took them round to the large garden at the back of the modest cottage, to a simple stable where Jez had had his ‘well massive time’. There the foal was pottering with his two new donkey friends, the three of them happy in their own little world. At the sight of his pa, however, Jez threw back his head in a cheerful whinny and cantered across to butt George’s chest in welcome. The limp that had been so pronounced was now virtually gone, Henry realized, smiling as George threw his arms around Jez’s neck and snuggled him, cooing about what a happy, handsome lad he was.
“He should so be on social media. He’s a babe.” Lil grinned, glancing from George to Henry. “Gorgeous George’s gorgeous guy.”
A mischievous light shone in Lil’s eyes. And in that moment, Henry knew without a doubt—Lil could see that he and George were a couple. Henry passed his hand through his hair and, out of sight of George, gave Lil a conspiratorial wink.
“Righty-ho, we’ll be off, then.” Henry patted George on the shoulder.
“Lil.” George looked to the young woman, his arm still around Jez’s neck. “Online…are people saying really rotten things?”
“Don’t think so? Didn’t see anything? Only some blokes who said they’re bored of seeing your chest all the time? Hang on—I’ll show you.”
Lil put the flowers down and grabbed her phone from her back pocket. She tapped at the screen and held it out to George.
Someone had announced to the world—
At least he’s got his top on for once! #whataposer #gsbmysteryman
Henry couldn’t resist and raised his eyebrow. “George did do a good job of keeping his jacket on last night.”
Someone else had written—
Top bants— #gsb is the Archbishop of Banterbury! #gsbmysteryman #ladsontour
“Lads on tour—was that laddy, was it, dancing?” Henry could feel himself about to laugh again. Although he had no idea what ‘bants’ were.
“I still appear to have a career, which is good since the England cricket team are arriving next week,” George said archly. He chewed at his lip, though, a hint of anxiety beneath his bonhomie. “I don’t think I’m very laddish really.”
“You were in the Army, though? I know loads of lads who are fans of yours, George—they were well jealous when I said I look after your horse.”
“So if this were true, you wouldn’t have a problem?” George peered at Lil. “And your mates wouldn’t?”
“What—if you two were boyfriends? Why would anyone care? You looked well cute when you were dancing.”
“I wouldn’t wish that on Fitz!” George laughed and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, too casual to be casual. Once again Lil gave Henry that men look.
George’s phone beeped with an incoming message. He glanced at it, his brow furrowing, then thrust it back into his pocket.
“Got a message from Tabs?” Henry asked him.
“PPI or something.” He shrugged. “Let’s get Jez home, give Lil her house back!”
“Bye, Lil!” Henry raised his hand to her in farewell.
She waved them off, holding the paddock gate open for the men and horse. George was preoccupied, though, clearly troubled by the online speculation that had put this most private of private lives at the very top of the weekend gossip columns.
Once they were out in the lane, Henry whispered, “Won’t people find it boring when your ‘mystery man’ turns out to be just a countryside vet! They’ll soon find something else to talk about. And we were only dancing—it’s not as if it’s a photo of us having a kiss.”
“My dad died of a heart attack, Fitz,” George reminded him. “I was eight years old and the last thing he said to me was you’re a fairy. And now the world’s going to say it, and they’re going to say it to you, too.”
“Jesus, George—you never told me that before.” Henry was about to reach for George’s hand when he stopped. Imagine what would happen if someone saw? “But do you think I’ve never heard that myself? My dad’s said it to me often enough. I ended up with this scar on my stomach trying to prove that I wasn’t a sissy, or all the other things he’s called me. And do you know what? I should never have bothered. Because there’s plenty enough people in the world who honestly don’t care one way or the other. We have each other, George. We won’t be coming out alone. Maybe I’m a little bit frightened, but you know what? I’m excited. And, more than anything else, bloody well relieved!”
George said nothing, though, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his teeth worrying at his lip again. This wasn’t a man who was excited or relieved or anything other than deeply upset, and that was upsetting in turn.
“I need to talk to my agent,” he eventually decided. “See what the damage is.”
“Damage? Did you see the look on Barney’s face, that lad you danced with? You’re a hero to him. He saw two men dance together, and—that’s not damage, George. You’ve just shown a youngster that there’s nothing wrong with being who he is. That it’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. Henry could feel waves of not-okay emanating from his boyfriend, and he hadn’t the words
to put it right, nor even the vaguest clue of how to fix things.
“It’s okay for you, isn’t it? I’ve never— I keep myself private, not hung out on the bloody Internet to be picked at!” George closed his eyes and ran his hand over Jez’s mane. “Are you coming back with us or—?”
Henry shoved his hands into his pockets. He scuffed a stone with the toe of his shoe.
“Do you want me to? Or shall I let you get on and talk to your agent?” Henry shook his head. “I don’t know what to say with you. One minute you’re moving in with me, the next you’re panicking because a photo of us dancing ends up on the Internet. Dancing, for heaven’s sake. What the hell would you do if a photo of a removal van parked up outside my house got online? Everyone’d know then, wouldn’t they? But before you think any further about moving in, perhaps you should run that past your agent, too. Just in case.”
Henry sidled toward the other side of the lane, staring down at the silhouettes of dried, squashed frogs in the gutter.
“I’m sorry, Fitz, for being in the public eye and for worrying what this means and for not being as loud and proud as you’ve become!” His phone beeped again but this time George ignored it. “Want me to scoop up a little lad and drag him away from a primed grenade? Done. Be a human shield while the shrapnel rains down over an innocent kid? No problem. Tell me to let the world know that I’m gay? That’s a lot tougher for me. What if people say what my dad said?”
“And?” Henry blinked at him. “Maybe some people will. But who cares what fuckwits like that think? Are you going to live your life in the shadows because you’re scared of what someone you don’t even know may or may not say? But then I’m not in showbiz, I’m not a celebrity. I’m just a boring vet, who—well, perhaps this is closer to the truth—you’re embarrassed to be seen with.”
“How can you—” George shook his head. “That’s what you think of me?”
Henry tipped back his head and stared up at the patches of blue sky between the overarching branches of the trees. He had walked so many times along this lane, all those years ago with George. Before he was famous, before he had his career. And now they were having a row. After last night, this should have been the best of days. It should’ve been the first day in a whole heap of best days.
The Captain and the Cricketer Page 23