5

5

Ripley couldn't help staring at Fen and that…eyeliner. Since when did he like guys who used eyeliner? Since when did he like guys as young as this? Especially mouthy ones. When Ripley had seen him in the shop, with that indignant expression on his face, those wide blue eyes blazing with irritation, Ripley had been intrigued. Now Fen looked…sexy, slightly dangerous, far too young and vulnerable, and not my fucking type. AT ALL! Yet somehow, exactly what he wanted, which made no sense. And why did he look vaguely familiar?

"Are you going to watch me eat?" Fen asked.

Ripley nodded. "I have no idea how to tackle a tower of food. I thought I'd see how you managed it."

"Demolition is the only way." Fen pushed it over with his fork.

Lust, want and need were roaring through him. He had never had such a visceral reaction to anyone and he was having trouble understanding why. Fen was…stunning to look at but it wasn't only that. He was different—enticing, funny, defiant, lippy… I could go on and on. Except for every reason Ripley had to want him, there was a reason why this wouldn't work. Ripley could go on and on listing those too. And yet, he still thought there weren't enough of them not to pursue this. Not that his mind was completely made up, which was unlike him because he was confident and decisive and determined.

Fen was fucking undoing him.

And I like that. I want that. How long have I been waiting for that?

Before he became completely distracted, and did something stupid like drag Fen to the bathroom to fuck him, Ripley pulled out his wallet, peeled off five twenty-pound notes and pushed them across the table. "Is it enough? No, it isn't. How much more should I give you? Thank you for returning the items. I'm not usually impolite. I can be abrupt, but I was rude. I'm sorry. I apologise for the incident with the puddle, I really didn't see you. I was in a rush to get to the auction house before it closed. I'm sorry for not taking the time to thank you for returning the medal, in particular." He rarely apologised. Fen had no idea how unlike him that had been.

"Apology accepted." Fen smiled and for a moment, all was right with Ripley's world.

"Am I no longer an arsehole?" Ripley asked.

"Don't push it." Fen picked up the money, took out his wallet and a moment later, shoved twenty-five pounds back across the table.

Ripley raised his eyebrows. "I said I'd give you a hundred. Or more."

"I only want back what I paid."

Ripley put the money away. Fen was eating slowly, but clearly liking what he ate judging by the dreamy expression on his face. Ripley could see the sense in not arguing over the money. It would piss off this prone-to-raising-its-prickles-at-the-slightest-provocation hedgehog.

"Do you like being a barrister?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's a career that rewards hard work and dedication. A barrister rises or falls on the basis of their reputation. I like the variety of work. I enjoy being in court. I like…making things work out for people."

"A gladiatorial arena. But without the blood."

"Mostly. I did once get a fist in my face from a client. Blood everywhere. I'd won the case, but in the process said something he didn't like."

Fen winced. "Something tells me you don't handle arguments about who has the kids on a Sunday night."

"Not unless a crime's been committed. Sadly, there have been cases of parents killing their kids to stop their other half taking them out of the country."

"It's shocking how crazy people can get."

"It is."

"Do you always win?"

"Usually. But not always."

"A bit like me in restoration, battling with objects that sometimes fight back too hard." Fen shrugged. "I can't save everything, or I think I've saved it only for my most critical boss of the two to decide it's not good enough to sell in the shop so he finds another way to get rid of it. Car boot sale, charity shop or rubbish bin. Ouch. That last one always hurts." Fen gave a rueful smile and Ripley found himself fixated on Fen's mouth. The curve of those lips… The way they'd look wrapped around his— Stop it!

"Did you train to be a restorer?"

"On the job training."

"Straight from school?"

"I had a few jobs after A Levels but liked antiques and that's what I've done for the last few years."

"What subjects did you study?"

Fen frowned as he lifted his fork to his mouth. Ripley could see him thinking as he chewed. It wouldn't be about what A Levels he took, so what was the matter?

"History, English and geography. Do you want to know my grades too? Three As. I'm not stupid. So, is this a job interview?"

"Want it to be?"

"I'm not sure what use I'd be to a barrister."

You have no idea. His cock almost purred. Down boy! "I never thought you were stupid. But three A grades and you didn't want to go to university?"

"No. I wanted to earn a living, not spend money I didn't have."

"There are such things as student loans."

"Like I said. Money I didn't have."

Ripley had a feeling it wasn't just that but he didn't push. "What are your plans?"

"Plans? Is this a job interview? Right. You mean like one day my prince will come or if I win the lottery sort of plans? Or realistic ambitions? Or what time I need to be in bed tonight?"

Oh fuck. "All of them?"

"I don't know you well enough to tell you my dreams. I'm an open sort of guy, but dreams are things not easily shared with a stranger."

"Not even a general idea of what you see yourself doing? Or are you happy enough in your job?"

Fen sighed. "It's okay, mostly but… Being a ceramics curator in a museum would be cool, though unobtainable because I have no degree and insufficient experience. In the real world, I'll continue to learn about antiques and how to repair them. Maybe one day, I'll discover something really valuable and there won't be anyone coming along telling me it shouldn't have been sold and they want it back. Then I'll use the money to study Japanese ceramics and become the biggest world expert who's not Japanese. Damn it! See, I've blabbed now. You're a brilliant barrister."

Fen's laugh wrapped around Ripley and squeezed hard. And yet Ripley sensed there was more to Fen's hopes than what he'd revealed.

"You were right about the medal," Ripley said. "I had no legal claim. You could have refused to let me have it or asked me for the thousands it's worth."

"Doing the right thing has been drummed into me all my life by my mother. I looked up your grandfather and read about his bravery. What strength of will he must have had to keep trying to escape. He must have been an amazing man. I'd love to have met him. The medal belongs to his family. I would never have felt comfortable keeping it or selling it. I called the auction house to ask how to get in touch with whoever had submitted the lot. I expected your visit. You've paid me back, bought me a nice meal. And I can't eat anymore, I'm sorry." He put his cutlery on the plate, trying twice to set the knife and fork neatly together.

He looked pale. Ripley almost pressed him to eat more; he'd eaten less than half, then bit his tongue.

"And you bought the Japanese globe, which despite me saying don't do me any favours, did get me into my boss's good books for a moment or two. Though you should have haggled. Except I hate haggling. Anyway, we're even."

When it was clear Fen was going to get to his feet, Ripley gestured for him not to. "It's impolite to leave the table while someone is still eating." How long could he make this food last? "Stay where you are."

Fen settled again.

"Finish your wine." Ripley was interested to see how far he could push him. How compliant would he be? His pulse jumped when Fen took a drink. "How old are you?

"Twenty-four. What about you? Sixty-four?"

"Not quite." He was uncomfortably close to forty.

"Are you married? Kids?"

"No and no."

"Are you out?"

Ripley hadn't expected Fen to be so direct. "Yes. Are you?"

Fen grinned and Ripley's cock twitched. "Not sure I've ever been in."

"Explain."

"I think when my mum caught me using her make-up, she had an idea I was different. I never had to tell her I was gay. No need to ever have that discussion."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, do you?"

"No."

He needed to think this through. It was possible he could persuade Fen into his bed tonight, and although that was what he wanted, it was also not quite what he wanted. Not yet. Not until conditions had been laid down. It had to be that way. He needed to know exactly where he stood. Control was everything, setting parameters. Then it was up to Fen.

Fen had only drunk half a glass of red wine. It was smooth and tasty, very probably the most expensive wine he'd ever had in his life, but he had to be careful with alcohol. He definitely couldn't get tipsy. He was unsteady enough sometimes as it was. But he felt sort of drunk, filled with the sensation of the world being too bright, as if it was shimmering around the edges of his vision. He was excited to be eating out in a smart restaurant with a good-looking guy, chatting and…flirting. He knew Ripley was interested in him. The feeling was mutual.

Right until reality gave him a hard slap. Get a grip! This was not a date. This was a thank you for returning the medal and the other stuff. Maybe Ripley wanted to fuck him, but he wouldn't want to go out with him. I'm nowhere near his type. So why am I still sitting here? Because it would be rude to get up while Ripley was still eating? Really?Or something else?

Ripley's apology had felt sincere. Fen had a feeling he didn't apologise very often. He half-wished he wasn't attracted to him, but he was. Someone untouchable, unapproachable and yet Fen was pretty sure that beneath his protective shell, Ripley was a very different man, one Fen thought he might like to get to know.

But maybe Ripley wasn't thinking of getting to know him. All the questions were merely part of his barristerial nature. Fen would make his long way home tonight and that would be that. The only time he'd feature in Ripley's life was if Ripley told the story of him and the medal to amuse friends at a dinner party.

Yet…if Ripley made a move on him, what should he do? I'm not so desperate for a fuck. It wasn't as if Fen would be such a good lay that Ripley would want to see him again. Fen watched the remains of his food get taken away and thought how what he'd left would have made him a meal for another day, but he guessed men like Ripley didn't eat leftovers and Fen wasn't sure if asking to have what was left boxed up was the right thing to do in a place like this. Dessert and coffee were offered but Fen said no. He was tired and more unhappy than he wanted to be.

Ripley hadn't asked him about his crutch. Fen had never spent so long with anyone and not been asked what was wrong with him.

What's wrong with you? How he hated that question. He always wanted to say there was nothing wrong with him. Of the guys he'd been with—and there hadn't been many—of those who had asked, all had shrugged when he'd told them it was a genetic thing. Somehow, he knew Ripley would press him. He'd push and push until Fen had told all of it, then he'd feel sorry for him and Fen wouldn't like him anymore.

Do I like him now? It was an interesting question. Fen was definitely attracted to him and the apology had made Fen like him more, as had not arguing about the money. Ripley had stared at Fen more than anyone had ever stared at him. Quite an irony he'd considered telling Ripley about the BMD, wanting to shock him, stir up some emotion, but Fen never volunteered details about his condition unless he was directly asked.

Ripley paid with his credit card. They picked up their coats at the door and were helped to put them on. A first for Fen since he was a kid. The door was opened for them, and they stepped outside. Well, that had been an experience. And Fen was all for new experiences. "Thank you for the meal. Night."

As he set off, Ripley called, "Wait." He gestured to the car pulling up next to them. "The car's here. I'll give you a lift."

Fen almost cut his nose off to spite his face, but his aching hip stopped him. I'm lying to myself now? "Thank you."

They took off their coats again and as Ripley climbed into the back next to him, his fingers grazed Fen's thigh above his knee, and the breath caught in Fen's throat. He knew Ripley had heard the sound, quiet as it had been. The privacy screen was in place and Fen wondered how far Ripley would go. But then his hand moved away so Fen had to assume the touch had been accidental. Pity, because it had lit Fen up like a match thrown into a pile of hay. Instant conflagration. He was tingling as if little fires had erupted all over him.

"Where do you live?" Ripley asked.

Fen told him. Well, the street, not the number. And I bloody squeaked. Ripley relayed the information to his driver. He could feel Ripley looking at him and Fen was afraid to turn and face him, afraid of saying yes when he knew he should say no. Though there was no way he was inviting Ripley up the stairs to his place. Then the hand was back where it had been before and if it had been an accident then, it wasn't now. Ripley's other hand slipped to the back of Fen's neck and pulled him in.

Fen's exhalation was noisy and shaky. He thought Ripley was going to kiss him. He wanted Ripley to kiss him, but it didn't happen. Ripley held him close, his fingers gently massaging above Fen's knee, while his thumb stroked the back of Fen's neck. No more squeaking!

"Is the crutch permanent or temporary?"

Fen tried not to be disappointed with the question or the timing. Though if Ripley hadn't asked, how would Fen have interpreted that?

"Permanent."

"Why?"

Ripley's mouth was inches from his, Fen could feel his breath hitting his face.

"Shark attack." Fen had thought about saying that lots of times but never had.

Ripley raised his eyebrows. He knows I'm lying. Of course he does! And not only because Fen had told him he didn't have a passport. Or because shark attacks off the coast of Britain were extremely rare.

"Did the shark survive?"

Fen swallowed hard. "I have muscular dystrophy."

The knee massage stopped, as did the stroking with the thumb, and Ripley edged back. Only a little but he did edge back.

"It isn't catching," Fen said through gritted teeth.

"I know. I…I thought I might be hurting you."

"You weren't. If you had been, I'd have said something."

But the touch from either hand didn't return.

"What type?" Ripley asked.

"Becker muscular dystrophy."

"I think I like the idea of a shark attack better."

That made Fen laugh. Briefly, anyway. "Me too as long as it didn't eat me."

"I have a morbid fear of sharks," Ripley said. "They may be perfectly friendly creatures in general, though they don't look it, but I assume the moment I step into the sea there's a whole squad of them who sense prey has entered their world, and immediately zoom my way."

"More people die from being stung by a jellyfish."

"I don't like them either."

"Me neither."

Ripley sighed. "I didn't mean to make light of what you told me. I'm sorry it's part of your life. It must make things difficult."

"Some things, yes, but it is what it is. I'm not strong and I get tired, but I'm not in constant pain. I'm tired now." Fen looked out of the window. He had no idea where they were. Nothing looked familiar.

When he turned back, Ripley closed the gap between them. He brushed his lips across Fen's, then ran his tongue along the crease and kept licking until Fen let him inside. The first kiss and Ripley groaned. Oh my God. He groaned! But even as Ripley deepened the kiss and explored his mouth, Fen was thinking he doesn't mean this, he feels sorry for me. Only to immediately follow that with the thought that Ripley wasn't the type to do anything he didn't really want to do.

The more Fen was kissed, the more he stopped thinking, and the harder and further he fell. This wasn't just a press of lips, but a kiss saying Ripley couldn't get enough of him, a kiss that lit up Fen's dark world.

Ripley plunged his tongue into Fen's mouth and Fen dissolved. He knew this man was a mass of contradictions. Hard and soft, cold and hot, serious and funny, rude and polite. He also suspected sex with him would likely be the best he'd ever had, maybe would ever have. Ripley kept himself so tightly controlled in his daily life, he had to come undone when he was with someone, didn't he?

Fen could feel that happening now; the coming apart. He could feel Ripley's pulse racing like his own, hear it in the sound of Ripley's breathing, feel it in the press of his body. He began to rethink the not letting him up to my room. Ripley was attracted to him and that thrilled Fen. Liking him could happen later.

Then as suddenly as the kiss had started, it stopped. Ripley moved back, straightened the sleeves of his jacket and pulled his coat onto his lap. The only thing betraying what had happened, was a slight flicker across Ripley's face, as if he'd surprised himself. A moment later, the car stopped moving. Fen could feel himself shaking.

"My driver will take you back." Ripley got out with his coat, and closed the door. The privacy screen went down.

It took a moment for Fen to come to his senses. He was flooded with embarrassment and hot on its heels came annoyance. What the fuck had that been about? For a stupid moment he thought about asking the driver if this was Ripley's MO, but instead, he stayed silent, curled up on the back seat.

He spent the rest of the journey trying to figure things out. The conclusion he came to didn't make him very happy. Ripley had been going to ask him in but after hearing about the BMD, he'd changed his mind. Rather than look like a complete bastard by saying this isn't going to work, he'd gone for being a not-quite-such-a-complete bastard and kissed him to show he wasn't… Wasn't what? Totally put off? When he is really?

It made Fen feel angry and hurt, but there was no point fretting about it. This was why he never wanted to tell anyone about his condition, because of reactions like this. He wouldn't waste another thought on him. Well, maybe one or two when he was in bed and needed some inspiration, a vision of a domineering alpha male ordering him around and Fen resisting. For a while. Even better if he could get Ripley to do what he wanted. Oh look. It's snowing in hell.

"What number?" the driver asked when they reached Peckham.

"Anywhere here is fine," Fen replied quietly.

"Mr Belmont will want to know I've delivered you back safely."

Really? "You have. Please stop the car. I'd like to get out."

The driver pulled up. Fen grabbed his coat and crutch, and struggled onto the pavement. The driver's window was down.

"Thank you for the lift." Fen fastened up his coat, and set off in the opposite direction to his place. Only when he saw the car pass him and turn left at the traffic lights, did he swivel round and head back.

He didn't break down until he was in his room. He never let anyone see him cry—ever. Though he rarely cried these days. He'd got all that over with when he was first diagnosed and understood what his future would look like. Even in his teens, he'd realised self-pity was destructive. How could he ever be happy once he'd yielded to it? So he hadn't. Feeling sorry for himself was a mistake then and it was now.

Ripley didn't want him, let alone like him. It wasn't the end of the world. He hung up his coat and slumped on his bed to take off his boots. The kiss had been… Tears fell. Oh fuck it! Was this all it took to drag him back down? A selfish arsehole thinking he was too damaged even for a one-night stand? Well, fuck him! The kiss meant nothing. It wasn't a gateway to a happy ever after no matter how it had made Fen feel at that moment. There was no point in wanting more. Not from a guy like Ripley. Fen would get used and thrown away.

But it didn't stop him going through the photos he'd taken. He wasn't going to delete them. Especially not one from the restaurant when Ripley was looking at him as if he wanted to eat him.

Once he was inside his house, Ripley locked the door and leaned back against it. He wriggled out of his coat and fumbled with the fastening on his trousers. His dick was so hard. He shoved down his shorts and trousers, spat on his hand and drew it up and down his cock. A tremor ran the length of his spine, fizzling from his neck to his balls. If there had been competitions for wanking, Ripley would no doubt have won plenty of medals.

I'm an idiot. I could have had him right here with me now.

His fingers tightened at the base of his shaft.

Oh fuck.

He used one hand to stroke the root of his cock with his thumb and two fingers, and the other to massage his balls.

As slow as I can. He wanted the sensation of needing to come to last as long as he could make it. He worked his way from the base of his cock using two fingers to rub and tease until he reached the swollen head. Precome oozed from the slit and a sigh escaped from his mouth. His cock slipped in his fingers, precome coating his hand. At the apex of each dragging pull along his cock, Ripley made an infinitesimal pause to wrap his fingers and thumb around the head before he swept his hand down to meet the one holding his balls. Harder, tighter, faster. Muscles contracted. His stomach clenched and he felt the burn in his balls. Fuck slow! He shuddered as his hips jerked, and then he was coming, long ropy threads spurting over his shirt and his hand.

Mouth slack, limbs trembling, Ripley banged his head back hard against the door and gave a quiet groan. Not enough.

After a shower, he climbed into bed with his laptop and looked up Becker muscular dystrophy. Once he'd found out what it was, he should have closed his laptop. Instead, he kept reading. And reading.

When he finally stopped, he felt chastened. What right did he have to complain about anything? It was a reminder of how unfair life could be.