Stuff (The Bristol Collection) (18 page)

“Umm, yes. Ordinary. You’re hardly ordinary.”

“That’s sweet of you to say so, love, but I’m nothing special. There’s loads of cute young gay boys like me out there. I mean, I think I’m better looking than a lot of them, but that’s not gonna last forever, is it? Before you know it, I’ll be needing Botox if I’m gonna pull. And there’s nothing sadder than seeing the desperate old queens out cruising the clubs on a Friday night, getting turned down again and again. Sometimes I go home with one of them just coz I feel sorry for them. And you can tell they would have been dead cute when they were young, but you can’t stay a twink forever. There comes a point when that whole look just doesn’t work anymore. And if you haven’t settled down with someone special by then, you’re gonna find it a whole lot harder once your belly goes soft and your face looks like a well-rumpled bedsheet.”

Perry blinked several times. “I think you’re special. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“I’ll take you down the Retreat at the weekend, then. That place is full of blokes just like me.”

Perry shook his head. “There’s not going to be anyone there quite like you. You’re unique.”

Mas was about to brush it off again, but he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from Perry’s. The blue of his eyes was almost luminous in the dim lighting, and no doubt Mas was reading romance where it didn’t exist again, but he could have sworn there was something very much like longing in his gaze. Probably just the repressed-sexuality thing again, though. That could be a right bugger, it would appear.

Perry’s leg rubbed against Mas’s, slowly and deliberately. “I think you’re special,” he repeated.

Mas’s heart did a stupid little flip-flop. Uh-oh. Here he went again. Falling in love with someone who’d never love him back.

Not in the romantic sense, anyway. The way Perry was looking at him right now, Mas had the feeling he’d be getting all the physical loving he was after tonight. And like always, it would be great in the short term, even if he never did get the long-term happy ever after he dreamed of.

But it didn’t matter. He was used to this.

“You want another beer before we head off? You’ve only had a half.” The more tipsy Perry was, the better. So long as he wasn’t drunk enough to not know what he was doing.

Perry shook his head. “That’s about my limit. I’m feeling a little lightheaded as it is.”

“Lightweight.” Mas pushed his nearly empty plate away and grabbed hold of Perry’s hand. “So, that offer of a place to sleep upstairs still stand, then? I’ll make it worth your while.”

The black swallowed all the blue in Perry’s eyes, and his throat started working, but nothing came out.

“C’mon. Let’s go. No hurry, no pressure. Just you getting a chance to do whatever it is you’ve been imagining all this time.”

And me, trying not to give in to this stupid, helpless infatuation.

Chapter Twenty

Perry barely remembered the walk back to the shop. They’d taken the route through the alleys round to the backyard rather than walking up the main road, but he’d been on autopilot, his body following where Mas led, while his mind whirred over and over a thousand possibilities. What would Mas want? He’d said he liked to bottom, hadn’t he? Perry wasn’t exactly
au fait
with gay vocabulary, but he could have a fairly good stab as to what Mas meant by that. Perry knew he’d be able to acquit himself admirably there. He’d had plenty of practice taking Cherise Greek style—he actually preferred it to the other option, as it was tighter there, and he found the process aesthetically pleasing to watch. Yes, he wasn’t worried about that aspect. He knew he’d be able to satisfy Mas, as Cherise always seemed to enjoy herself.

But hold on a second. “I don’t have any lubricant,” he blurted out as they reached the gate into the backyard.

“That’s fine. I’ve got plenty. You got rubbers? I’m running a bit low.”

“Some.”

“Extra-strong? Coz they’re best for anal unless you really know what you’re doing.”

Mortified, Perry scanned the area, but it didn’t seem like anyone had overheard their oh-so-gay conversation. However, his face was heating up so much, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been bathing the whole area in a pink glow. Extra-strong indeed! “Umm, yes. That’s what I’ve got. I’m fairly sure.”

Mas took a step closer in the gloom of the yard. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anal if you don’t want to. There’s plenty of other stuff we could try out.”

He was about to protest that he knew what he was doing, thank you very much, but curiosity won out. “There is?”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry, you’re in safe hands here. I’ll show you the ropes. Whatever you want to do. Within reason. Nothing dangerous. I don’t play like that.”

“No. Of course not.” Dangerous? Perry didn’t like to ask. The only really dangerous sexual practice he could imagine was auto-erotic asphyxiation, and he only knew about that one from those poor celebrities and MPs who occasionally hit the tabloid headlines with their spectacularly embarrassing deaths.

“Hey, nothing to worry about.” Mas slipped his arms round Perry’s waist, and they acted like an anchor against the rising surge of worry. “I promise I’ll look after you. I’ll make it good. I know what I’m doing. I’ve had plenty of practice.” Mas whispered the last words right against Perry’s lips, his hot breath a sensual caress.

“You make a habit of seducing straight men, then?”

Perry could feel Mas’s lips curve in a smile. “Nah, not as a rule. Only when they’re as cute and sexy as you are. And anyway, I’m pretty certain you’re not straight.” Mas’s hand grasped the evidence of that, currently tenting the front of Perry’s trousers.

“I always thought I was. Right up until I met you.”

Mas stilled, and Perry panicked that he’d somehow said the wrong thing. Was that too intense? After a long, desperate moment, Mas tilted his head back, and Perry could just make out his eyes, rendered grey by the amber streetlight.

“I think that might be the single most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Mas finally said, without a trace of that teasing lilt he usually talked with.

And then Mas kissed him, the touch of lips igniting a blazing inferno in Perry’s groin and his heart, and he knew there’d be no turning back now. Damn the consequences. He was going to see this through. He didn’t have any other choice.

The stairs seemed to have grown steeper or multiplied in some way, because it took forever to climb them. But at the same time, it was only a heartbeat before Perry was standing outside his flat door, nerves strung taut. He fumbled with his keys until Mas’s hand closed over his, his touch calming him even as it set his skin alight.

The paradoxes were messing with Perry’s head. He felt woozy, like he’d downed far more than the half pint of weak ale over dinner. Had Mas slipped something stronger into it when Perry’s back was turned? No, he wouldn’t do something like that.

He wouldn’t have needed to. Perry had been his from the moment Mas first strutted into the shop and opened his smart, pretty mouth.

“I want this,” he said as the door opened before them both. He was determined not to give Mas any reason to doubt him. “I want you.”

“I should hope so.” Mas’s eyes sparkled with the reflections of the fairy lights strung up all over the ceiling. It was hard to tell if he’d taken Perry seriously.

“I mean it. I want you. Not just any old chap to show me the ropes. I’m glad it’s you.” There was more he wanted to say, but the words crowded up and jammed in his throat. Instead he started work on the buttons of Mas’s jacket. The horn discs slipped through the tweed easily, and he could almost fool himself he wasn’t half-insensible with fear and desire.

Mas smiled as Perry slipped the jacket from his shoulders, and it was so different from his usual grins it made Perry halt. A tender smile. Almost bittersweet, like Mas was close to tears. Probably just Perry’s overactive imagination, but he put a finger to Mas’s lips, tracing them slowly. “I’d like to draw you like that.”

“You sure you wouldn’t prefer to draw me naked?”

“That would be good too. But I want that smile. The sad one.”

“I’m not sad. How could I be sad when I’m about to get royally screwed by a hot man? I mean, that’s just bloody imp—”

“I’m not…”

“What? You’re not hot? Or you’re not gonna screw me? Coz I’ve gotta tell you, you’re even hotter for not realising it. Most fit guys I’ve met are totally in love with their own reflections, and that’s a major turn-off. And I think you probably do want to screw me, even if there is some kind of bullshit going through your head right now about exactly how gay it’ll make you to blow your load inside another man.”

“That wasn’t it.”

“No? Then let’s have another guess. You’re not—”

“Shut up.” This time Perry stopped the flow of words with a kiss. Not a polite kiss, but possessive and openmouthed. He grabbed a handful of Mas’s hair and forced his tongue into Mas’s mouth.

Mas made a surprised sound but opened for Perry, returning the kiss with every bit as much passion. Perry used his other hand to pull Mas close to him, melding their bodies tight together. There was nothing soft or yielding about Mas, but somehow that stoked Perry’s lust. To be intimate with someone his match in strength and hardness. To know he wasn’t expected to take things slowly or flatter Mas with sweet nothings. For some reason, that made him actually want to tell Mas just how wonderful he was.

He broke the kiss, and Mas sucked on his lower lip like he didn’t want it to end. “You feel incredible,” Perry whispered. “I want to feel you naked.”

“You want to see me naked too, I reckon.” Mas gave a lopsided grin as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Stop!” Mas halted, eyebrows raised, and Perry turned Mas around and fitted himself against his back. He pushed Mas’s hands out of the way and started work on the buttons himself.

“I do love a man who knows what he wants,” Mas purred.

The shirt wasn’t as straightforward as the jacket had been, especially with the way Mas kept grinding back against Perry’s erection, but eventually he wrestled the last button into submission and slipped his hands against bare skin. He’d half prepared himself for finding a thatch of chest hair, but Mas’s skin was smooth and warm. Smooth apart from those hard nipples. Perry found one and pinched it.

“Mmm, that’s good.” Mas leaned his head back onto Perry’s shoulder and kissed his neck. “Love having my tits played with.”

“They’re not tits.” Perry ran a hand over the flat planes of Mas’s chest. He was almost as thin as Perry was, but there was a hint of muscle under his skin. “Nothing like breasts.”

“But you like them anyway?”

“I do.” Perry twiddled both nipples then, pleased to feel them pebble up even harder under his fingertips. Mas moaned, and his body undulated against Perry’s, filling him with a rush of power. “What I like most of all is the way you react to me.”

Perry released his grip and ran the flat of his palms over Mas’s chest, then down, over his belly. All of a sudden, he could see how this would work. That it really didn’t matter what equipment Mas had. The terrain might be a little unfamiliar at times, but it wasn’t anything Perry hadn’t dealt with before. After all, he’d touched and tasted himself. Admittedly, the idea of having an erection in his mouth was a strange one, but it didn’t exactly revolt him.

In fact, if the erection in question belonged to Mas, he found the idea exciting. Scary but exhilarating.

Filled with a desire to find out just what he was dealing with here, Perry slipped one hand down the front of Mas’s trousers. He could feel the tip of Mas’s dick hemmed in by some stretchy modern synthetic. “You should wear cotton boxers, you know,” he murmured. “It’s healthier. No danger of overheating.”

“And what if I like a bit of sweaty crotch?”

Perry had no answer to that one, because now all he could think about was burying his face somewhere warm and moist. He made a peculiar sound in his throat, all strangled lust, and attempted to turn it into a cough. Mas was thrusting himself up towards Perry’s hand, and he could feel a damp patch forming right where Mas’s cock kissed the fabric. “Belt,” he choked out eventually, realising he couldn’t move his hand any farther down otherwise, but unwilling to relinquish his hold. “Take it off.”

“Ooh, bossy much?” Mas teased, but there was a breathy catch to his voice, and a rough undertone Perry hadn’t heard before. Mas’s sex voice. Oh God.

Mas worked on the belt and his fly, and Perry pushed his hand down farther, taking a good grip. Mas felt normal sized, not that Perry had much data for comparison. But he wasn’t hugely wide or long—not as wide as Perry, anyway—so that was reassuring. He was less likely to make a fool of himself choking if he tried to swallow that.

When Mas went to push down his trousers, Perry stopped him. “Allow me.”

He moved around to face Mas, unable to make eye contact, and dropped to his knees.

Mas drew in a sharp breath. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“Well, in that case, knock yourself out. Just be careful with the teeth, yeah? Best to cover ’em with your lips.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday.”