Chapter 21

I'm not sure if it's my rumbling stomach or my need to pee that wakes me, but both are making a bid for the number one spot. Nick is naked, sprawled out on my bed, which is way too narrow for us to be really comfortable, but it's only for a couple of nights.

I draw my knees up and hug them. I'm enjoying watching him. I've seen him asleep before, and he's fallen asleep on my bed many times. But this is different. I've never woken up next to him in the morning, naked. I watch his eyelids flutter as he stirs slightly, his blond eyelashes barely showing against his cheeks. He has a smattering of stubble across his chin, again, hardly detectable. My eyes track down his body, across his broad shoulders and chest, his impressive biceps, and strong arms. Certainly strong enough to lift me up. The memory of that swirls in my stomach along with a reminder of what we did yesterday. I look lower, following his narrow waist and the dusting of treasure trail to his cock, now soft, nestled in hair which is a darker blond. Would I like it filling me up? If what it felt like with his fingers is any indication, then the thought excites me—a lot. I can't believe how lucky I am to have my best friend and a boyfriend in one very handsome, sexy package.

I get to enjoy this for one more day—until my parents return. It seems ridiculous really, but I can't afford my own place. I know Nick is saving up for a house or flat, but I'm not sure how it's going.

I wonder if we could afford a place together. Is it too soon to think those thoughts? Probably, as this thing between us is so new, though it's not like we haven't known each other for years. But living in the same space permanently... That's a big step. So, yes, probably best to not have those thoughts yet, even though I feel a bone-deep surety of how right it is that we're together.

My bladder wins the race to force me to stop admiring Nick and actually move, so I head to the bathroom, grabbing some sweatpants on the way, as I intend to fix my hunger right after.

I'm just making two mugs of tea when Nick stumbles into the kitchen in sweatpants, his hair tousled, and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He comes over and puts his arms around me from behind, nuzzling into my neck.

"Mmm. I wish we could do this every day," he says against my neck, and I sigh a small yes. My heart catches at him having thoughts similar to mine.

I resolutely ignore it, as it's too soon to think about any of that. We'll just have to make do with things as they are.

"Can you get the milk from the fridge?"

"Do I have to?" His hand is gently caressing up and down my back, his mouth sucking little marks onto my shoulder. It's both beautiful and distracting and I'm finding it difficult to concentrate.

"Well, no, not if you don't want tea or any food."

Reluctantly he pulls away and I can think again, though a part of me wants to call him back and forget about food, forget about the hours of dance practice we have planned for today, and to drag him back to my bedroom. But we didn't eat last night after expending a lot of energy, and I can feel the beginnings of nausea from the effects of low blood sugar, so even if we were to spend the day in bed, we'd still need some energy.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask. "Cereal, toast... we have eggs, maybe some bacon?"

"I want this." He withdraws his head from the fridge and holds up the chocolate torte.

"Nick! You can't eat that for breakfast."

"Did you make this?" His smile lights up the drab morning light. "For me?"

"Yes, for dessert yesterday." I try not to get distracted by the thought of why we missed dessert, or any food. Which just serves to remind me we still haven't eaten. He puts the plate down on the countertop and stands in front of me, bracketing me with his arms.

"Thank you," he whispers, and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "It means a lot that you made this for me." He kisses me again. "You know that making me dessert is the way to my heart, don't you?"

I'm caught off guard by his words. Was he saying he loved me? I mean, we love each other as best friends, but as boyfriends? Are we declaring it? There is no question that I love Nick. I don't have a problem with that. But to admit it out loud feels like a step change, a non-returnable point. It seems far too big a declaration to whisper, half dressed, in a kitchen. So instead I deflect.

"Is it the way to your cock as well?" I hook a finger into the waistband of his sweatpants and release it with a twang, as I can see very well what effect it has.

He gives me a look, like I've just served myself up for dessert, and pushes his hips forward, whilst at the same time sliding his hands inside the back of my sweatpants and catching hold of my naked ass, pulling me forward to grind into his erection.

"What do you think?" he murmurs, before kissing me again, this time long and deep.

The loud grumble from his stomach is what eventually causes us to stop, though I could have happily stayed in his arms forever. He pulls away and I'm filled with a warm glow from the thought that this is so easy. Us, being together, expressing ourselves—we've not had the opportunity before, as we've always been in someone else's space. I try not to choke on the reminder of how brief this time we have together is.

"You're still not having dessert for breakfast." I try to show my disapproval.

"I can," Nick protests, and reaches for a plate to serve some up for himself. "We can have dessert for breakfast. It's in the code."

I laugh at him. He's not getting me with that one again, but I can match him. "I'm sure it is. However, we've got a lot of practice to do today and just eating sugar isn't going to cut it. You need some carbs as well. I'm not having you crashing on your old ass later because you didn't eat properly."

"Old ass! Old ass?" he almost yells, clutching his hands to his chest like I've just delivered the most crushing insult. I have no sympathy.

"Well, it's older than mine." I grin at him. "Actually, I might start calling you that for your nickname. Meet Nick, he's my old ass."

I place two bowls on the kitchen island and the box of cereal. Nick rolls his eyes but reaches for the box.

"If you do that, then I'll call you my baby boy," he blurts, and we both stop still. Ewwww. I'm pretty sure his grimace is a mirror image of the way my face is scrunched up in the way it does when you realise that you might have gone too far.

"I prefer ‘honey,'" I say softly, and his face relaxes.

He continues to pour cereal into the two bowls and drowns both of them in milk, as is the proper way.

"So why ‘honey?'" I ask, as I finish making the tea and then start tucking into my own cereal.

"Honey is the sweetest thing I've tasted," he replies, waving his spoon for emphasis. "It has so many amazing properties and is made by the most hardworking of all creatures. It reminds me of you."

I concentrate on my breakfast, not trusting myself to look at him right now. No one has ever said anything so beautiful or personal to me before. I risk a glance at him from under my lashes and see his dark blue eyes watching me.

"Thank you," I croak out, and his mouth curls upwards slightly before he returns to finishing his cereal.

When he's done, I can't stop him from reaching for the torte, and I fetch a plate so I can have some too, suffering his smirk as he serves me up a slice.

We've finished breakfast and are clearing away when there's a loud noise from outside, so we head to the window to look out. A huge digger now occupies the development site past the end of the row of shops, its huge jaws scraping across the uneven ground, clawing at anything in its way.

"I guess it's going ahead, then." Nick stands shoulder to shoulder with me as we look out.

"Mum says it might bring more business to the school." I shrug. Every time I think about it, I think there's more to this than my parents are telling me. I know the lessons haven't been busy. But they agreed to my event, and I want to practise more for that today, as well as making sure Nick and I are foot-perfect for the competition in a few days' time.

"Maybe, but right now, we have things to do," Nick says, pulling me towards the bathroom. "And the first of those is having a shower."

I turn the water on and while I wait for it to run through hot, I strip off my sweatpants. Nick does the same and then gestures for me to enter, stepping in behind me and shutting the door. The proximity of him, hot and naked, watching the water cascade over his toned body, has what was a fairly decent semi turning fully hard in seconds.

He notices and sniggers softly.

"You can talk," I protest, using a finger to pull his own erection down, and releasing it so it bounces back against his stomach. For that I receive a low growl and him using his body to push me against the tiled wall while he kisses my breath away.

"Fuck, Darcy," he says as he pulls back a moment later, leaving me kiss-blissed and happy. "I want to?—"

"Yes," I interrupt.

"Yes, what?" A tiny line appears between his eyes.

"Fuck Darcy." I grin at him. He laughs, but shakes his head a little, spraying me with water droplets from his hair.

He leans forward, his mouth very close to my ear, and whispers, "There is nothing more I'd like to do than bend you over and bury my dick so far in you that you'll still be feeling it next week."

I can't answer. I just stare at him, my blood pounding and my body alive with desire. The thought of that scrambling my brain.

"But I'm not going to."

"Uh?" Okay, what just happened?

"I'm all wet now and there's no way I can get a condom on wet. And"—his eyes glitter—"I'd rather go without, feel you properly."

I hear a whine. Did I just whine?

"I'm already on PrEP, but we ought to make sure about any STIs. So we'll go get checked out, together, at the clinic first. Is that okay?" Again, he's checking in with me. The care he shows sliding through each of my breathless pants and taking root deep in my soul. I nod. It's all I can do right now.

"Good." His mouth is back at my ear, his breath sending electric signals down my neck and making my cock twitch. "Until then, we'll have to think of something else."

With that, he lowers himself to his knees and looks up at me, his eyes dark as he licks his lips before parting them and wrapping them around my cockhead.

I try to watch, fascinated at seeing my cock sliding in and out of his mouth, but I can't. The sensations of his swirling tongue, coupled with the warm pressure of his mouth, have me on the brink within a couple of minutes. He pulls almost all the way off and applies just his tongue to the head, dipping his tongue into my slit, and it's almost too much. I groan, arching my back and thrusting towards him. Trembling starts in my thighs and I have to force myself back against the wall to stay upright. He takes me wholly back into his mouth and, when I feel it hit the back of his throat, it tips me over the edge and my orgasm rushes through me. He keeps his mouth locked on me, taking every drop.

Then he stands and gently turns me around. He leans forwards and whispers in my ear. "I knew you'd taste like honey."

I can barely stand, but I rest against the tiles. He grabs the soap and lathers some over my ass and his hands before snaking one arm around my waist. I'm grateful for the support.

He takes his cock in his hand and I feel it glide against my crease. I stand there, still in too much of a euphoric state to do anything except enjoy the pleasurable feeling of his cock occasionally grazing across my hole, and the rhythmic slapping sound of his hand. My brain idly wonders if jerking off has a time signature and what it would be. I feel him thrust once more and he spills over my ass cheeks. He presses against me, wrapping his other arm around me and planting a kiss on my shoulder, before I feel him rest his forehead against me, panting heavily.

"Give me a minute," he laughs against my skin.

"I'm not going anywhere," I reply, equally drained.

After a few minutes, he straightens up and helps me to stand properly. I reach for the soap to clean us both up.