Chapter 14

Graham was in the kitchen, making coffee for them both. He couldn't quite believe what had happened last night.

Ryan was like an animal once they'd got home. He'd grabbed at Graham's clothes, practically stripped him in the lift. The desperation in his eyes, when they were in Graham's hallway. This was a man who wanted this, but hadn't had it for a long time.

Graham had pressed Ryan to lie flat, and he'd made love with his mouth, and surprisingly Ryan came, but he seemed to want more, to go again, but he'd drunk a lot of wine, so hoping time would help, Graham led them to the bedroom.

Ryan then seemed to want one thing, if his positioning and hands on Graham were anything to go by. So, Graham had laid in front of him, trying his best to rubber Ryan up, and slicking them, as best he could. Ryan was thrusting about, but the wine had taken over, the condom didn't stay on, and there was no way that was going to work, Graham thought, as he reached behind himself, hoping to find a big hard cock, but instead finding only softness, slick and felt Ryan's hips thrusting about uselessly.

So, Graham had straddled him, just seeing Ryan beneath him, his big hairy chest and muscular arms laid out for Graham to admire, kept Graham hard and soon he spurted all over Ryan's chest, neck and face, before collapsing on top of him, not quite believing what had just happened.

That was when Graham had got them water, made Ryan drink two pints, put him on his side, checked he didn't feel sick – he didn't. By the time Graham was returning from a shower to wash off the sweat and stickiness, Ryan was asleep, on his side, snoring quietly.

Graham had snuggled up, inhaling the scent of sandalwood, deodorant and man, simply bathing in the moment of having a glorious man like Ryan in his bed. After what had been a glorious evening together.

Now, he carried their coffee to his bedroom.

Ryan lay down on his side, face buried in the pillow, half the covers removed, revealing his large, muscular behind, thighs, and a wide back with ripples of muscles across the top.

Graham couldn't quite believe this actual man, was in his actual bed. That they'd had the perfect evening, which would only have been bettered if they had managed to have the sex that had been on Graham's mind since going to the gym together. Not that he was complaining about the sex they did have last night. Oh no. It was very sexy and fun, thank you very much.

Graham sat up in bed, sipping his coffee, bathing in the anticipation of what the morning together could bring.

A loud groan, and Ryan moved, rolled over, taking the duvet with him, revealing Graham's naked body.

‘I wouldn't mind some covers, thank you!' Graham said.

Ryan rolled again, removing all of the duvet, then slowly sat upright, against the headboard. He opened his eyes, yawned, shook his head, and looked about. His hair stuck up, and he moved slowly.

He looked adorably cute and just as handsome as ever. And, Graham thought, he's bloody well in my bloody bed! ‘Morning,' Graham said.

Ryan said nothing, his eyes widened.

‘Coffee?' Graham handed the mug to him.

Ryan sipped it slowly, making himself comfortable against the headboard with a pillow. After a few slow sips of coffee, he turned to Graham. ‘What happened?'

‘What do you remember?'

‘The gym. The restaurant.'

Graham told him what had happened.

Ryan looked mortified when Graham politely described how they'd tried but not succeeded to fuck last night.

Graham laughed. ‘Worst things have happened at sea!'

Ryan's face didn't seem to agree.

Graham couldn't resist. Ryan looked adorable. A bit lost, confused, and as if the world was about to end. Graham knew none of that was true, none of that mattered, so he kissed Ryan. Mouth open, lips pressed together, his tongue tasting Ryan, experiencing the wet and warmth of his mouth, just as Ryan had experience Graham's last night. He pulled back from the kiss.

Ryan was smiling, a little grin crept across his face.

Graham returned for another, this time deeper, kissing Ryan's neck, cheeks, chest, moving down to his pecs, taking a nipple in his mouth, each in turn, biting slightly, licking it.

The groans of pleasure from Ryan told Graham he was doing the right thing. No sense having post-match analysis about what hadn't happened last night. Now, Ryan wanted it and so did Graham. Best to finish what they started. Only now, sober, more conscious of what was happening.

Graham's tongue was in Ryan's navel, he moved down, licking the base of Ryan's hard-on. It rose from the dark wiry hairs at the base, curving forwards, like a banana. It was thick and long and Graham knew it would feel wonderful deep inside him.

But not yet. Not now. He wanted to look at this beautiful man in his bed, make love to him, slowly, languidly, taking their time, unlike the frantic, chaotic, messy desperation of last night.

Graham licked the tip of Ryan's cock, then down the shaft, to the base, and back up again. He sucked Ryan's balls, shaved ball sac, taking one in his mouth at a time, then returning to make love to the shaft, the tip. Taking it all in his mouth.

Ryan cried out.

Graham stopped; afraid he'd hurt him.

‘Don't stop,' Ryan said, the word strangled in his throat.

Graham obeyed, made love to Ryan with his mouth and hand, and only stopped when sometime later, Ryan cried out in pleasure, thrusting his hips upwards into Graham's mouth, as he reached his climax.

Graham lay down on his side, the only noise their breathing, deep, ragged, slowly returning to normal. He stayed still.

Ryan reached forwards, held Graham's cock. ‘What about you?'

Graham made a long mmmmm sound, he couldn't string a sentence together; he was spent, soft, satiated, his stickiness over his leg.

They moved around in the bed, Ryan settling as the small spoon to Graham's large one, and fell languidly to sleep, under the covers.

They showered together, washing each other's bodies, although their minds were willing, their bodies weren't yet able for a repeat. Then they had breakfast at the bar in Graham's kitchen.

They wore underwear, due to the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Thames in the apartment's lounge, kitchen and dining room.

‘What will you tell Sam?' Graham asked, crunching on buttered toast.

Ryan shook his head, shrugged.

‘He'll be fine.' Graham looked up, staring at Ryan. ‘You really love him, don't you? Like proper best friends forever. I was always a bit envious of him for having that. I didn't think people had best friends anymore. Men anyway. But you two, definitely. I've never had that.'

Ryan shrugged, looked away. He seemed to be embarrassed about it.

‘Did I say something wrong?' Graham asked.

Ryan shook his head. ‘People used to think we were a couple.'

‘I never thought that,' Graham said, trying to rescue things, ‘Whatever Sam said it was just good old-fashioned friendship. Plenty of people never have that sort of strong bond with someone. Not even people they marry, or have children with.' His mum certainly hadn't with his absent dad.

‘Thanks,' Ryan said.

‘Your mum's really lucky to have someone who cares about her like you do.'

‘From what Sam said, you did the same for your mum.' Ryan was looking at Graham, he seemed a bit more relaxed, as he brushed crumbs off his short underwear trunks.

Ryan shrugged. He looked magnificent, leaning forwards slightly, his hairy stomach without a six pack, but an attractive softness that folded forward, his pecs less obvious than when he'd been standing upright, but still, Graham decided, absolutely hunky and sexy and relaxed too. This was the last thing Graham expected to be doing today, after seeing his brother's best friend in a professional capacity.

Absolutely the last thing. Graham briefly smirked.

‘What?' Ryan asked.

Graham shook his head. ‘Nothing.' He wasn't about to tell Ryan that. Made him sound desperate. Didn't want to go into the whole, I didn't know you were gay, conversation. However, Ryan wanted to describe himself, Ryansexual, just Ryan, whatever, but he'd certainly been pretty splendidly gay last night, and first thing this morning. Sucking Ryan off was, without doubt, the best sex Graham had enjoyed in a very long time. Yes, he'd gone further with other guys, but there was something so masculine, so big, and strong about Ryan that had Graham, even now, stiffening.

Graham said, ‘I used to look after Mum, yeah, but it's different from how you care about yours. Totally different.'

‘Why?' Ryan asked. ‘By the way, do you have to be anywhere, or can we have another coffee?'

Graham didn't have to be anywhere. And he certainly hoped they'd be able to have more than coffee before Ryan left. He made a cafetiere of less strong coffee, filled a jug with milk, collected brown sugar, and they took it to the sofa, placing the drink on the low table.

Ryan sat at one end of the sofa, spreading himself out, seeming to take up more space than he needed. And he was so damned attractive, that Graham, without even thinking it might be too much, that he could get the brush off, sat in front of him, facing the same direction, snuggling his back against Ryan's chest.

Feeling comfortable, safe, and relaxed, Graham found himself telling Ryan about his mum, her alcohol addiction, how he was parenting her and Sam from his twelfth birthday. ‘It's a different sort of caring for than you do for your mum. Yours is adult to adult. Mine was always adult to child.' Graham took a breath, as he thought how to best describe it. ‘I was always the adult. She never became an adult. Right up to the end. I've spent most of my life being an adult, from eleven years old, when I should have been a child. Sam was too young to notice. I think he had a good childhood.'

‘Thanks to you?'

Graham shrugged.

‘He never complains about it. He's always made it sound like the perfect childhood. Enjoying school. Looked up to you like a father figure. Never mentioned you were gay. You were just Graham, there when he needed you. He makes my life seem like a picnic. Sam worked when we were at uni. I had an allowance. We started together at the grad scheme, doing a proper job, and I didn't know what had hit me. Monday to Friday, nine to five, and more. But Sam, he didn't even mention it. Because he'd really had to work for it, part time job while studying. I've sort of had it all handed to me on a plate.'

‘Don't be so hard on yourself. Your privileged upbringing didn't mean Sam and I had our difficult one. Life doesn't work like that.'

‘I know, but.' Ryan stopped, then kissed Graham's neck gently.

Shivers ran down Graham's spine. He backed himself up, closer towards Ryan. Felt a stiffness that had been missing last night, so late, all that wine they'd drunk.

Ryan moaned as Graham put his hand behind Ryan's neck, gently pulling him forwards, encouraging another of Ryan's delicious neck kisses.

They would have done it doggy style on the sofa, if Graham hadn't stopped, and led them into his bedroom. But once there, Graham was struck by how hungry, forceful, passionate, Ryan was. It was as if he'd never fucked before. He was both gentle, and masterful, checking Graham was okay, comfortable, wasn't in pain. And when they were one, Ryan took him, possessed him, thrusting deep into Graham's body, pressing against that needful button inside his body. They moved around the bed, changing position, Ryan indicated he wanted to see Graham's face, while they had sex, needing to feel that connection.

Graham lay down on his back, his legs over Ryan's shoulders, as they were joined, moving forwards to meet each other in glorious uninhibited sex.

Ryan seemed to want to make Graham come himself, holding Graham's hands away from his cock as he crept closer to his climax. It was as if Ryan wanted to prove his masculinity, his virility by making love to Graham so well, so passionately, so completely, that Graham would reach his white-hot peak from only Ryan's power inside him.

Graham wasn't about to go into all the complexities of how that might or might not happen, he just wanted to come, and he wanted to come now. He pulled Ryan deeper inside him, wrapping his legs around Ryan's torso, as Ryan thrust deep, cried out, and he came. Another thrust, and another, and they stayed still, Ryan kneeling on the bed, Graham on his back, legs wrapped around Ryan.

Ryan fell forwards, his massive bulk on top of Graham, as he tried to catch his breath.

And that, still feeling Ryan's stiffness inside him, pressing against his needful button deep within his body, meant that Graham, with a few flicks of his hand, was climbing the final part and joyfully, splendidly reaching his climax too, with a cry of joy, sticky whiteness covering his stomach and Ryan's chest.

‘Did.' Ryan panted. ‘I.' Panting. ‘Do that?'

Graham nodded, kissing Ryan's cheek, pulling him back, so he could look into his eyes. ‘Yeah.'

It was mid-afternoon by the time Ryan finally left. Not because Graham had wanted him to leave, but it was just that despite wanting to, they couldn't take and give of each other's bodies any more. After the last time, they showered, then again in the bathroom, then finally, sitting at the breakfast bar, Ryan's hunger returned to his eyes, and he put his hands inside Graham's trousers, desperate, needful, hungry. Again.

Graham said, ‘Not again, sorry,' and he kissed Ryan.

Ryan finally left, giving him a kiss at Graham's front door.

Graham hugged him and took a deep inhalation of Ryan's scent, feeling his bulk in Graham's arms, remembering his weight on top of Graham before.

Then Ryan turned, and left.

Graham wasn't going to sound desperate, ask when they could see each other again. He'd done all that as a teenager and in his twenties. At thirty-three, he decided if Ryan wanted to see him again, he would. But Graham really wanted to see Ryan again.

He sat on the sofa; the room didn't seem any different. The bedroom door was ajar, the covers twisted and rumpled from their last love-making in the bed. There were pieces of toast, crumbs on the kitchen floor, from where they'd knocked them off the breakfast bar, the first time this morning. The first kiss of today that had led to…

He wondered if they'd have a first kiss tomorrow. Allowed himself to hope. But didn't promise anything. Ryan hadn't said anything about that. They would see. Take it slowly. Now they knew how compatible they were in bed; a relationship could, might, easily spring from there.

Or not.

Or so, Graham hoped briefly.

Graham rang the one person who he trusted for sensible advice, knowing her husband would still be away, feeling guilty for never arranging that evening together, and hoping she wasn't at work.

‘You won't believe what's just happened?' he asked.

‘You're styling George Clooney?' Claire asked with more than a touch of sarcasm.

‘No.'

‘Brad Pitt? Ryan Gosling? Ryan Reynolds?'

‘Better.'

‘Fuck off is it better?' She went quiet. ‘You've just got your leg over, haven't you?'

Graham laughed.

‘Who? Do I know him?'

‘He's Sam's best friend.'

‘Fuck off. Fuck all the way off! Is he young? How young are we talking? Have you got a toyboy? I thought you liked them older and bigger than you.'

Graham told her, leaving out the sex details.

‘I am so jealous! And pleased for you, it's been ages since you got a bit of action. George was back last week, so I'm all sorted. He's gone now. Out to sea. Two months.' She coughed, a sucking noise.

‘Are you still smoking those things?'

‘They keep my cough in check.'

‘I told you, why that is. If you stopped smoking—'

‘Not what we're talking about. So, are you seeing him again? Well, you must be, the wedding styling bit. Awkward? Will you tell Sam?'

‘Might be a bit awkward. Probably leave it for him to tell Sam. Unless you think it's better coming from me?'

‘Look, this is unchartered territory is this. Brother's best friend. That's like…a thing, it's a something, isn't it?'

Graham nodded. It certainly was…something.

‘You're not going to call him, are you?' she asked.

‘Tonight?' Graham asked. ‘What, am I fourteen? No, I'll leave it a few days.' Cool as a cucumber. Maybe leave it until he couldn't still feel as if Ryan was still inside him, in an aching, pleasurable, needful way.

‘So, he's handsome, lowkey, well groomed, has a famous mum and dad. What's the catch?' Claire asked.

As far as Graham could see, there wasn't one. He thought for a moment. ‘He's a bit younger, so maybe a bit immature. But he doesn't seem it. Just starting out, first proper job. Sharing a house.'

‘Who with?'

‘Sam, who else?'

‘Obviously.'

No catch at all. Fucks like a machine. Handsome. Built like a brick shithouse. What could possibly go wrong?