Chapter Twenty-Four

Lucas

W hen I woke up next morning, Alex was already in the en suite, the sound of running water filtering through the closed door. I lay there for a moment. My dick was hard and I thought about joining him but the closed door was a dead giveaway. If he wanted me in there with him, he would have left it open. I didn’t want to be a pushy, sex-crazed, middle-aged bastard just because he’d reawakened my libido.

I went down to the other bathroom and stepped into the shower. There I lubed my dick up with some soap and leaned against the wall with my eyes shut and thought about Alex’s tongue in my arse as I jerked off. Fuck, that had been something else. I’d felt deep anxiety when I’d rolled over and bared myself to him, of course I had. Memories of being held down with rough fingers inside me, teeth biting down on my inner thigh, those four men standing around saying they were going to rape me. But Alex wasn’t them. His finger against my hole had been gentle and he hadn’t tried to push inside. His tongue had been soothing and arousing as he lapped me and worked me open and a part of me had longed for his fingers then, and his dick, pummelling me, driving me into the couch and making me his. I shuddered, moving my hand quicker on my cock. If I was thinking this way, then he was healing me. He was making me think about getting fucked, and that had to be a good thing. I moved my other hand behind me to probe between my buttocks, fluttered one finger over my hole and stroked, pressing. My dick dribbled pre-cum onto my fingers and I spread it down my shaft, moving my hand quicker. I thought about the dildo I had in my bedside drawer which I had used infrequently before the assault, then never again. I imagined I had it in my hand, then I forced a finger into my arse and thought about Alex using his tongue, his fingers, the dildo, and finally his cock, and as my finger went into my body up to the knuckle, I cried out, my dick jerking as I came all over the tiles.

Back in the bedroom and getting dressed in smart black trousers and a matching shirt (still no Netflix joggers for him yet), I felt ashamed. He was there in my bathroom and I was wanking off over him down the hall. What was wrong with me? He was still in there. Scrubbing me from his skin? I went downstairs and set the coffee machine going before I went into the utility and threw his clothes into the dryer. Then I pulled out a pan and set about breakfast.

Alex was another ten minutes, by which time I had coffee done and was on my way to finishing a full English for us both. It was only nine. I guessed that if he was serving lunch, he might be starting work around eleven. He stopped in the doorway wearing yesterday’s jeans and a different sweater, looking hesitant and shy and I saw he was carrying his bag. My heart sank. He was leaving. Had I come on too strong last night? Maybe I had been too loud and embarrassing. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to come over my arse as I’d asked him to do. Maybe it was too much and too dirty. But he’d been the one licking his cum—and mine—from my arse, not me. I hadn’t forced him, had I? In the cold light of day, I couldn’t believe I was that man begging him to cream all over me. The man who’d moaned and gasped with a tongue in my arse.

“I’ve made breakfast,” I said. “Scrambled tofu with black salt, M I kissed his throat and he said, “Will you fuck me with this?”

Oh God, I definitely would. I groaned, pulling away from him to open the lube. He held the toy while I greased the shaft, then he wrapped his legs around me as I slid it across his entrance a few times, lubricating my way. He whimpered as I pressed inside, clinging to me and covering my face with kisses. I traced his Adam’s apple with my tongue as I eased the toy right in, feeling him stretch open around the silicone.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned. “That’s good.”

I looked down. I had to see that toy disappearing into him as I worked it. The sight made the pre-cum ooze from my dick. Keeping the dildo in place, I tore open the condom with my teeth. Then, fucking him with the toy, I rolled on the rubber one-handed. He helped me with the last bit, smoothing lube down my shaft, jerking me so I almost came right then and there.

He gasped as I tugged the dildo free and let it drop. I guided myself between his legs and he gripped my shoulders hard, crying out as I penetrated him. God, he was so wet and tight. My first thrust almost sent him skidding across the marble and he clung to me with his legs around my back as I raced for the finish line. His hand moved between our bodies and he jerked himself off, loud moans echoing around the kitchen.

“Fuck,” I grunted. “Oh fuck.” His lips found mine and we kissed hard, tongues entwined as we both tumbled over the edge.

“Lucas,” he cried. “Oh God, Lucas.”

Warm cum spilt over my hand and his arse tightened around me in waves, milking my orgasm from me. I bucked into him, climax tearing through my body, my balls emptying. When I slumped against him, he held me tight, kissing my head.

◆◆◆

Alex

I got a feeling of déjà vu when I walked back out to the Lamborghini. I guessed this would be my final trip in the supercar. I’d miss the luxury of being driven around like some movie star. We clicked our seatbelts and he started the engine. It was snowing again, fresh flakes falling onto the mostly melted Christmas snowfall. His garden looked so beautiful. Evergreen trees dusted with snow like a postcard, the lights on the huge spruce at the front like something from a film.

I twisted my hands together nervously in my lap, stomach clenched into knots that this was goodbye, that our magical few days together had ended. Back to reality like it had all been a dream. He put the radio on, some bloke on Radio 4 talking about Dickens’s A Christmas Carol being a fable for the modern age. I’d always loved that book and the adaptations on TV. How Scrooge’s name had entered the English language for a miserable, miserly person with no Christmas cheer and a whole back catalogue of regrets. I glanced over at Lucas’s strong profile, noticing again as I had earlier the colourful bruise on his cheekbone, the swelling and split on his lip. I had those regrets. Regrets that I never finished university. Regrets that I hadn’t fulfilled my earlier promise. And I’d probably regret watching Lucas walk out of my life until the day I died.

We didn’t speak the whole way to the restaurant, a distance of a few miles. The car was warm, humming smoothly below us, cocooning us inside our private world, the same world he and I had been in since Christmas Eve. Now it was all over.

He drew up outside my place of work. Lights twinkled in the window and I saw Max inside at the bar, stacking bottles in the fridge. Lucas shifted into neutral and put the handbrake on, but didn’t switch the engine off. It was like that then. Ready for a quick getaway.

I put my hand on the door handle, ready to make a quick, dignified exit before I did something stupid like threw myself into his arms, begged or cried. He kept his hands on the wheel, fingers clenching and unclenching, looking straight forward out of the windscreen.

“Thanks for the lift,” I said.

He nodded. Still he didn’t look at me. He blinked rapidly, thick lashes veiling his sapphire eyes.

I took a breath and clicked the door open, then stopped. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

◆◆◆

Lucas

“Can I get your number?”

I looked at him for a moment, then I looked out of the window. I sat there with my heart beating hard. This was a big step. If I gave him my number, it only suggested one thing. How many times had I decided this couldn’t go anywhere? But could I really say no to him? At the moment I wanted him more than the air I breathed.

I bit my lip, then nodded and started to recite. Alex quickly opened his address book and typed. I saw he saved me under Lucas R. Maybe he knew another Lucas. I hoped he didn’t. Alex smiled at me. He shoved his phone into his coat pocket and opened the car door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” I said. I waited until he’d walked inside the building without looking back, then I drove away, feeling worse than I’d felt in a very long time. He had my number, he could contact me. Why was I feeling bad? Because I hadn’t kissed him? Because I had said bye as though our one-night stand hadn’t progressed to three nights? None of it sat easy with me. I didn’t want him to feel hurt, or used. I wanted to be back home. Warm and cosy with him lying next to me breathing softly. Instead, I hadn’t taken his number, so I was at his mercy, unless I chose to turn up at the restaurant or his flat like a stalker.

Flakes of snow fell thickly against the windscreen and I let them build up rather than using the wipers. Christmas and my birthday was over for another year with just the dreaded New Year to come. I could carry on alone as I always had been or I could take a chance.