Chapter 22

So, the guy you hated, the one that threatened you all those years ago, is now your boyfriend. Is that right?”

Ziggy took a drink of his fancy cocktail. He sneezed, the feather in his drink almost sticking up his nose.

“That’s about it, yes.”

“The very same guy that Marc told off in the gym.” He twirled the feather between his fingers now, contemplating my words.

“Yes,” I said, exasperated. How many times did I need to tell him?

“Well, I’ll admit I’m a bit confused. I thought he hated you, swore to put you in prison. What changed?”

“We connected when we were in France, and we’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“I know how your connections go. How was it? You can tell me.” He grinned, leaning forward in his seat.

“Ziggy, don’t be nosey.” Marc sat next to him, his arm around the back of his chair. Marc stroked up and down Ziggy’s neck with his thumb. I’d noticed that about these two; they were always touching.

“He’s meeting you here, yes?” Did he not listen?

“Yes. Jesus, how many times do I need to tell you? And please, don’t give him the third degree. He’s nervous enough as it is about meeting you.”

“We’re lovely. Why would he worry? What the fuck did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I told him nothing, other than we were meeting a couple of friends for drinks.”

“Is that him?” Ziggy craned his neck, checking out the door every time it opened.

“No, that’s not him. I’ll tell you when I see him.”

“See who? Who are we looking for?” Simon stood behind me with a tray of drinks. “I didn’t know what you drank, so I asked the barman. Seems you’re regulars in here.”

He handed off the drinks to Ziggy and Marc. “You’re not going to hit me, are you? Only last time I saw you, you mentioned something about me coming within spitting distance of Duke.”

Marc took his drink. “You’re good. Any friend of Duke’s is a friend of ours. Likewise with his enemies. Giving you fair warning.”

“I’m glad you have his back.” Simon sat next to me and placed a small kiss on my cheek before whispering ‘hello’.

“I hope you brought your brain with you.” Ziggy had a way with words.

“What do you mean?” Simon looked over at me. “Why do I need my brain?”

“It’s quiz night. Beau and Kwan usually join us, but they couldn’t make it tonight. Kwan is doing a gig or something.”

“Should I know who that is?”

“Do you follow K-pop?” Ziggy asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked at us all, clearly confused.

“I’ll explain to you later,” I said, patting his hand. “I hope your general knowledge is better than your music prowess.” I wrote our team name on the piece of paper in front of us.

“What are we called?” He stretched his neck to read it.

“The Liverpool Boys,” I said. “We all met up here. Seemed fitting.”

“But isn’t that every man in here?” Simon asked, looking around. Why was he asking so many questions tonight?

“Does he always ask this many questions?” Clearly Ziggy thought so too.

“Not usually, and I have my ways of shutting him up.”

“I don’t want to know,” Marc said. “And no, Ziggy. You don’t want to either.”

“You are no fun. I always want the tea. I heard you were a porn star. You need to give me all the gossip. I have names; I need details, if you get my drift.”

“Does he ever stop?” Simon whispered.

“I heard that, and no, I don’t.” Ziggy sucked on the straw, swirling the melting ice in his glass before picking up another cocktail.

“How many?” I asked Marc, nodding to the glass.

“Too many. We’ve been here a while. It could be an interesting night. He’s unpredictable when he’s had a few.”

Ziggy was unpredictable most of the time, just exaggerated when he was drunk.

“Isn’t that Liam and John over there?” He stood, knocking the table, before striding off across the room to greet another couple of friends.

I grabbed the drinks before they could spill.

“He’s a handful,” Simon said to no one in particular.

“He is that, but he’s my handful. I’d best go rescue that couple. It’s not Liam at all.”

I laughed as Marc followed his husband.

“Is he always like that? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like him.”

“Sometimes he’s worse, but we love him. He endured a lot. Remind me to tell you his story. He won’t mind.”

I heard them return before I saw them.

“Yes, Marc. I know it wasn’t Liam, but he looked a lot like him, didn’t you think?”

“They’re in the States visiting John’s parents, remember?” Marc sat Ziggy down and placed his hand on his thigh, keeping him in place.

A crackle sounded, and a voice boomed out over the speakers.

“Welcome to the quiz. We’ll have four rounds of general knowledge, a picture round, a music round and finally, the bitch slap round.”

“What the fuck is that?” Simon whispered.

“It’s mean, is what it is. If you answer the question right, you can vote to remove points from another team, usually the one in the lead.”

“Fuck, that’s brutal. I thought pub quizzes were quiet affairs for nerds and trainspotters.”

“Hey, don’t let anyone hear you say that. It’s competitive in here, especially as there’s vouchers for alcohol as a prize. We take our quizzing seriously, now shush. It’s about to start.”

The next hour was spent in not so quiet contemplation of the questions.

Ziggy had a habit of shouting out the answers, much to Marc’s disgust.

“Quietly, Ziggy. Stop shouting.”

He bounced up and down on his seat. “But I know the answer. I know it, I know it.”

“I know you do, but use your inside voice.”

“He doesn’t have one of those,” I joked.

“Heyyyyy. I’m right here, you know.” Ziggy looked offended, but it wouldn’t last for long. He picked up a glass and took a drink, wrinkling his nose. “What on earth is that?”

“Water,” Marc replied. “You’re cut off.”

I looked over at Simon watching the exchange between Ziggy and Marc with an astonished look on his face.

“You get used to them,” I said, and I moved my chair closer to his. I’d had a couple of beers and was feeling like we should ditch the quiz and go back to my place.

Ziggy pouted, folded his arms and refused to answer any more questions.

Marc, Simon and I muddled through the next round, but our hearts really weren’t in it anymore. Marc was constantly watching Ziggy, and I had other things on my mind. Things that very much involved Simon.

“Ziggy, you’re ruining everyone’s evening. Stop sulking and play, and I’ll buy you another drink.” Marc stood and went to the bar.

“Fine. I suppose I could.” The cheeky fucker winked at me. How he got away with what he did I had no idea, but he had Marc wrapped around his little finger.

“We’re not going to win.” Simon took a drink from his bottle of beer.

“Nope, but it’s the taking part, right? I’m getting a little tired. What about you?”

“I could go another round. There’s still a few more left.” He tapped the pen on the paper impatiently.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.” I stared him straight in the eye. “I think I’d like to go home.” I raised an eyebrow, hoping he got my meaning.

Realisation dawned, and he dropped the pen on the table. “You’ve a long day tomorrow. Maybe we should go and get some sleep.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you pair. Just go already! We’ll be heading home soon anyway. Marc really does have an early start. We’re nowhere near winning this week. We know who the brains are, don’t we?”

We waited until Marc returned to make our excuses and leave, stepping outside into the cold evening.

It had been a few weeks since we’d returned from France and Barbara’s funeral, and we’d both noticed the drop in temperature.

“So, why the urgency to leave?” He took my hand as we walked to the bus stop that would take us to my place.

“Not sure how ready I am to share you with everyone just yet, and I’m not always comfortable with the stares.” I’d noticed a few people looking over at him.

“I think they’re looking at you more than me. You always were good-looking. You’ve got better with age.”

“I’m not that old.”

“No, you’re not.” He waited until we were on the bus before he spoke again. “Dad’s doing well, and Mum is adjusting well. Robbie is still asking if he can be a bridesmaid.”

I chuckled. “I swear he’s just doing it to wind you up.”

“Oh, I know he is, but he does seem happier lately. I thought he’d go off the rails, what with the failed treatment and all, but I’ve also noticed that Carlos is around more. He won’t say anything to me, but maybe he might open up to you.”

“I really don’t want to know what Robbie is up to with Carlos.”

“I guess not.”

When we reached home, we were barely through the door before Simon was on me. We were still in our honeymoon phase, and practically any chance we got we spent in bed.

I’d been busier at work, and Simon had taken to meeting me there, becoming good friends with Lottie. Since retiring, he’d been out and about in the city, taking pictures for the gallery.

It was doing brilliantly, and he was happy, like a pig in shit, and when he was happy, so was I.

“How long has it been since we’ve done this?” He moaned softly, biting and licking my neck.

“This morning was the last time.” He’d woken me with strokes and kisses, and we’d ended with mutual orgasms.

The problem he’d spoken to me about in France had all but disappeared. If anything, he was almost permanently hard these days. Not a day went by without him accosting me in some manner. Not that I was bothered by that, he was on my mind all the time, and when we were apart, I’d dream of him.

I’d gone from not giving a damn about anything to wanting to be with him constantly.

If anyone had said to me that was how it was going to be, I’d have laughed in their face, but here we were, ready to tear each other’s clothes off again.

Now completely naked, we made it to the sofa. I bent Simon over it and lined myself up, ready to enter him.

We’d talked a while back about no longer needing condoms. He’d tested regularly, as had I. Neither of us taking any chances with our previous professions. Needless to say, it was far better without.

He dug down the back of the sofa and retrieved a bottle of lube.

“What the hell?”

“From last night. Must have slipped down there.”

At least that saved a trip to the bathroom. I squirted a generous amount on his arse, though knowing he probably would be fine, then rubbed it into my cock.

“Put your leg up.”

He did as instructed, putting one leg on the back of the sofa, the other staying on the floor for balance.

“Hands behind your back. I’ve got you; you won’t fall.”

I guided my dick inside with one hand, only slowing for the head to breach his ring. With the other hand, I pinned his hands to his back, keeping him in place.

He grunted as I pushed deeper, almost toppling him over onto the sofa.

“Fuck, Duke. I’m not a contortionist, and at my age, I’m liable to a pull a muscle.”

I laughed, realising it was an odd position, but the pressure on my cock was amazing.

“Come on, old man. Let’s find you a more comfortable position.”

“Just let me put my leg down.”

He did, and his arse clamped around me.

“Fuck, Simon. You’re so fucking tight now.”

“I’m not an award-winning porn star for nothing you know.”

That was the thing with our lovemaking. We talked and laughed, and when things didn’t always go right, we told each other.

This small effort on both our parts meant we got the most enjoyment out of our sessions.

He rocked backwards, forcing me deeper inside him, and I met him thrust for thrust.

Slamming home with each one, my balls slapping against him. I pressed down harder on his back, and he arched it, bringing his head up.

I grasped his neck with my free hand, ramming harder.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he said with each thrust.

“If you can talk, I’m not gripping you hard enough.” I tightened the hand on his throat.

“Oh, dear Lord, yes. Just like that,” he shouted.

Quick and dirty. That’s what this was.

“Argh,” I shouted, a cramp crippling my calf. “I need to move.”

I released Simon quickly and danced around the room, rubbing my calf.

He stood laughing, his heavy cock swinging.

“Not fucking funny.”

“Oh, it really is. You were calling me an old man, and here we are. Let’s get you to bed.”

I hobbled to the bedroom and lay on my back on the bed, my leg in the air.

“Here, let me.”

He massaged my calf, digging his fingers in, bringing some life back to it, until finally the pain receded.

“Good?” he asked, reaching for my now limp dick. It hardened almost instantly.

“Yeah, much better. Now where were we?” I gazed at him, wondering how I got so fucking lucky.

“Maybe it’s better this way.” Simon straddled me and lowered himself onto my waiting cock.

Deeper than before, he rocked back and forth, all the time stroking himself.

“One day I’m gonna fuck you, Duke, and you’ll love it.”

I looked up at his face, his eyes hooded, his cheeks ruddy from the exertion. As usual the veins bulged in his face and neck as he gave it his all.

“Soon, baby.” I struggled to speak, my legs bent, giving me the strength to thrust into him.

“Oh yeah. I’m almost there,” he shouted. I’d never had such a vocal partner.

He wanked furiously, his release finally hitting him, white spunk splattered my stomach and chest. It took me a moment longer, but I made sure to fill his arse with as much of my semen as I could.

He raised himself up, letting the warm liquid drip from his arse onto my pubes. He knew it turned me on, seeing my spunk drip from him.

Once done, he rolled to the side and lay on his back next to me. “This never gets old.”

I had to agree. After fantasising about him for so long, the real thing was even better.

“You know, if we’d done this when we were younger, it wouldn’t have been half as enjoyable.” I didn’t remember sex ever being this good.

“Oh, I don’t know. An orgasm is an orgasm,” he said, still panting a little.

“That’s not what I mean. We’ve both had experience. We’re older now.” I turned to face him, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I doubt we’d be here if we’d have done this when we were younger. You’d be off, probably doing the same as you’re doing now, and I’d probably be an accountant or something equally boring. Instead, you were a prostitute, and I was a star in the porn industry. You couldn’t make it up.”

I laughed. He was right. “Sounds like the start of a bad joke—a prostitute and a porn star walk into a bar.”

“I wonder what the punchline would be?” His words slurred as they usually did after sex. It always surprised me how quickly he’d fall asleep.

“And they all lived happily ever after? Too cheesy?”

Gentle snores came from his direction, and I gazed up to the ceiling, wondering how the hell we’d got here. It had taken us long enough, but it felt right.

Right here was home. Right here in Liverpool. Right by Simon’s side.