32. Nikos

32

NIKOS

I open the door to my apartment, and for the first time, don't dread the silence waiting for me inside. Because Oli is by my side - actually, he's in my arms, because I've just literally swept him off his feet.

‘What are you doing!' Oli manages through a fit of hysterical laughter. His hands grasp at my jacket, anchoring himself to me. Although I'd never let him fall. I've got him now, tomorrow, and for all the blissfully endless days to come.

‘Mind your head,' I reply as I duck into the apartment, careful not to bump his head on the door frame.

‘Fuck me,' Oli gasps as he takes in my apartment. ‘Is this your home?'

I watch the awe in his eyes as he sweeps them over the open-planned living room, the high-tech kitchen and the tall walls covered in expensive art pieces. ‘Truthfully, it's never felt much like home. But I suppose it does now.'

I put him down on the ground carefully, admiring the glow in his eyes, the way his reaction isn't born from admiring my apartment, but likely thinking what a waste of money it is. That's something else I love about Oli, his ability to not be blinded by fame.

‘It's… impressive.'

‘It's over the top,' I say, scrutinising the rooms before me. ‘In fact, I think I'm going to sell up, get myself a small little apartment with a nice view.'

‘But this is your home,' Oli retorts. ‘You just said that.'

‘No.' I take him into my arms, embracing him tight. ‘You're my home, Honey. Home isn't a construct of brick and mortar, but a feeling. For fear of sounding like a sappy fool, you are that feeling for me. New York, London, Greece - fuck, it could be in the desert surrounded by nothing at all, and still I would feel totally at home if you were beside me.'

Oli is silent as he looks up at me. His mouth parts, his bright eyes wide. I watch his reply turn to ash on his tongue, and I suddenly regret saying so much.

‘Now, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting,' I say, forcing out the sarcasm to protect me from what must be coming. The inevitable reminder that I'm moving much too fast.

‘Well.' Oli withdraws. ‘It's just we both have our lives. Mine is back in London. And yours… yours is here, or wherever the work takes you. You're free now. I don't expect you to nail yourself down to the first twink you set your eyes on.'

I take his face in my hands, loving how small he is in comparison to me. ‘Ask me a million times, and I will always choose you.'

‘Bloody hell,' Oli squirms with his cute little English accent. ‘What are we like?'

I dip my face to his, holding my lips inches from his mouth. ‘Star-crossed lovers, fated mates, forbidden romance.... I admit I don't understand the bookish terms you use, but surely we're something like that.'

‘You've been doing your research,' Oli says, narrowing his eyes.

‘I have.' I kiss him, laying my emotion and desires out on the line. It's soft and careful. My lips guide his, parting his mouth to allow for my tongue to enter. I sweep it around his mouth, entangling myself with him, tasting mint and coffee and loving every moment of the contrasting flavours.

When the kiss ends, I lay my forehead on his and exhale a breath full of all the tension I've ever held. ‘I love you, Oliver Honey Cane.'

His reply comes so quickly, he practically interrupts me. ‘And I love you, Nikos Adonis Ridge Drakos.'

‘That's a mouthful,' I reply.

‘You certainly are.'

I open my eyes a millisecond after Oli's hands begin fumbling with the buttons of my trousers. His gaze is aglow with desire and want, matching my own. He doesn't need to tell me with words what he wants from me. I see it as clear as day. But Oli, ever the best at words compared to me, parts his pink-tinged lips and says, ‘take me to bed, Adonis.'

I swallow hard. ‘With pleasure.'

I deserve happiness, as does Oli. It's a feeling so overwhelming in this single moment that I can't help but wish it for everyone in the world, my father included. Whatever happened to him to poison his heart and ruin his soul - what cruel circumstance broke him enough to allow for him to become a monster - I pity him for it.

He had love in his hands in the form of a woman who was the best I'd ever known. My mother. And he crushed it. But as I guide Oli to my bedroom, his eyes fixed on me, his hand in mine, I know that I would never jeopardise what he and I have.

Regardless of how the world reacts to my ‘little secret,' it was worth it. I'd give it all up to simply exist in the same space as him.

Oli is not only my secret - he is my love and my honour. And for him, I'll face the world with a confidence as bright as the sun. Because nothing has the power to eclipse this.

My new world. My new life.

We stand at the end of my bed with its pristine sheets and plush pillows. Oli's mouth is on mine, my tongue twisting alongside his. With eyes closed, and our hands touching, we undress one another - one piece of clothing at a time, until a puddle of material waits at our feet. I break away long enough to lift the t-shirt over his head, but it gets stuck. We fall to the ground, laughing.

I'm completely overcome with joy.

Once we're bare, I draw him up onto my lap, working his legs over my thighs until our chests are pressing together, my back into the rug. Oli arches into me, my hand tracing down his spine, conjuring shivers across his skin. I nip at his neck, kissing his throat tenderly. Oli is so frantic that his hands barely stay in one place. Nails score at my back, leaving marks in my skin just as my kiss does with his neck and shoulders.

By the time we're done here, our stories will be written onto one another's bodies.

At some point, we move from the floor to the bed. In a cloud of duvet and pillows, we lose ourselves. Oli's mouth is on my cock, sucking me, proving his early statement of me being a mouthful. I offer him the same pleasure, taking him onto my tongue, palming his balls as we fit ourselves together like a puzzle.

His groans of pleasure encourage me. I've never wanted to make someone lose themselves before, not like this. With him, I want to hear every beautiful sound come out of his mouth - regardless of if his moan of pleasure are muffled by my cock in his mouth.

I spit on my fingers and reach behind him. I could find his centre without sight. As I press the tip of my finger against him, Oli shivers.

‘Do you like that, Honey?' I ask, circling his entrance, knowing that a single move would make him buckle from ecstasy.

Oli doesn't answer with words - instead, he takes my entire length in, burying my cock down his throat until there isn't an inch left dry. He heaves around it, the sound sparkling a feral reaction in me. Blinded by the pleasure of his throat rubbing over my bell-end, I take my wetted finger and plunge it inside of him.

I almost come in that moment. I have to practice the control of a monk just to stop myself from finishing.

Oli is so tight against my finger. He's clenching purposefully, telling me with his body just how incredible he will feel once I put my cock inside of him. So, partly rushed and partly desperate, I snatch his hair and withdraw him from my cock.

‘Sit on me,' I command, lying down on the bed, head propped up by two pillows.

Oli does as he is told, clambering over my hips, knees bending. ‘Are you going to fuck me dry, Adonis?'

‘Yes, but not today. Your hole needs training for that kind of feat. If you want, though, we can practise. We have all the time in the world.'

Oli's brow peaks, his eyes mischievous as his grin. ‘I would take you up on it, but I need you in me now, Adonis.' He offers his hand and gives me a one worded command. ‘Lube.'

Not one to disappoint, I reach into the side drawer and retrieve an - almost full - bottle of lube. The milky liquid is thick, the kind with a slight tingle to it. Oli notices that some has been used.

‘I believe the Brits call it a ‘posh-wank',' I tell him.

Oli laughs, the sound rumbling across the room. ‘That involves a condom, you fool. But I do like the idea of you touching yourself.'

‘I prefer when you do it,' I reply, watching as he pumps four measures of lube into his palm. He discards the bottle amongst the mounds of bedding and reaches behind himself. Pleasure overcomes me as he begins working the liquid across my length. ‘However, one day, I'd very much like you to make me kneel, wank over my face, and cover me in your come. If that sounds like something you'd be interested in.'

‘Is this - your - kink?' I pant. In Oli's hand, I am a mess of uncontrolled breathes and stumbled words.

‘One of many,' he replies, rolling a condom onto me and guiding the end of my cock to his hole.

‘Many? What have I gotten myself into?'

‘The best thing in your life,' Oli replies, then thrusts himself down on my cock with such vigour, I find myself arching into him.

‘Fuck me,' I cry, feeling like I've died and gone to heaven.

‘Okay,' Oli says calmly. ‘I will.'

And he does.

With thighs of steel, Oli bounces on my cock. First he's slow, then the speed and pace picks up. His forehead creases in concentration, his mouth parted in a perpetual o-shape. I grip onto his thigh, burying my fingers into his skin. My spare hand wraps around his cock and I begin jerking him.

We play this game of pleasure for as long as I can handle. I move him around, shifting Oli until he is on his hands and knees, and I'm behind him, pounding his arse from behind. But in truth, no matter how incredible he feels in this position, I want to see his face. There's an enjoyment in watching his expressions. It's so fucking sexy. So, we end up in the position we started in, Oli atop me, sliding down on my length over and over.

I stare him deep in his eyes, as he does with me. ‘You're the best part of me.'

Oli gasps, his eyes rolling into his head. ‘You're only saying that because you're about to come.'

‘Yes,' I say, pressing into him, wanting to feel every possible inch of his arse upon me. I give Oli credit, he is a champion. He takes my cock like a pro. ‘But it's also true. You are the best part of me. And I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.'

Oli leans down and presses his mouth to mine. Before the kiss intensifies, he replies into my mouth, the words vibrating over my swollen lips. ‘And I love you. Now come for me, baby.'

Not wanting to disappoint, I do just that. And from the wet splash of liquid over my stomach, I know Oli has finished too. Both of us, in tandem, joined in more ways than one. We finish together, because we finish each other. Completely, in all manners of the sense.

He completes me. And I, for the first time in a long time, recognise that I have the potential to complete another person, too.

Morning light spears in through my large windows, casting the bed in a golden glow. Central Park looks magical from this view, with verdant trees and vivid colours as summer truly encompasses the world.

Oli is nestled to my side, his head on my chest. After a night of lots of passion and very little sleep, we find ourselves brave enough to check social media - as per Selina's request. She just called and woke us up.

‘Incredible,' Oli exhales.

‘It is,' I say, staring at the screen as I continuously scroll through the trending tab.

I'm overwhelmed with positivity. Comments, tags, pictures, posts, videos - every form of media I can imagine is outpouring with love for me and Oli. For our story. And they only know the half of it.

Selina has just emailed over a list of TV-shows that would like to host an interview with us. The film studio is offering more money for a sequel, and the author of An Age of Dragons has even proposed to write in a new romance for Armin Wolfe in book three. In her words ‘a topless man in leather, riding a dragon - what's gayer than that?' She isn't wrong.

Oli closes his eyes and exhales against my skin. I peer down my nose at him and see him smiling. I can't help but mirror the emotion. ‘Not such a dirty little secret after all,' Oli's says.

‘You never were, not to me.' I love the feel of his skin against mine. We're both sticky from a night of sex, but I can't bring myself to get out of bed just yet. I lock my phone screen, lay it on the bed and give my entire focus to the man at my side.

‘So,' Oli draws out with a yawn. ‘What next?'

What next? ‘Us?'

‘Well, I'd hope so. But I have a job to get back to, and you have a film to prepare for.'

I laugh, almost the idea of being separated is nauseating. ‘If I accept, I'll be filming in the UK.'

‘If? What do you mean if?'

‘Maybe I don't want to do it.'

Oli leans up on his elbows, his stomach rolling up into cute bundles. ‘And deprive me of the gay, dragon-riding, leather-wearing, muscled hero of my dreams? You better not decline it. I'm like the number one biggest fan of that book. I've annotated it.'

‘I thought I was free and could make my own decisions,' I retort with a chuckle, planting my lips on his cheek whilst drawing him back down atop me.

‘I mean, you are,' Oli says. ‘But you are literally the man of my literature dreams. An honest-to-God book boyfriend, come to life.'

‘You just want me to do it so you can tell all your friends you're fucking Armin.'

Oli's tired eyes flick to my turned-down phone. ‘Oh, they already know. But that doesn't stop me from wanting you to fuck me in costume.'

‘The world knows.' I grin. ‘And if you want me to fuck you in costume? I will. Every damn day, if you'd like.'

‘So, the world is ours,' Oli says. ‘But the world doesn't stop just because this has all happened. I have bills to pay, a job that I love - and now, a man who can come and stay with me during his long filming sessions.'

I close my eyes, my smile growing wider. ‘I like the idea of coming home to you every night.'

‘Home,' Oli repeats.

‘Us,' I answer. ‘But first, I need breakfast, ‘and then we can discuss all our grand plans.'

‘Built up an appetite, have you,' Oli says, finger tracing patterns over my chest.

‘I have.'

‘And what do you fancy to eat?'

In one swift motion, I draw him up and lay him flat over me. My mouth nuzzles in his neck, my hands grasping his bare arse, massaging the smooth skin that I love so much. ‘Something sweet enough to rot my teeth. I fancy eating you, Honey.'

‘Mmhm,' Oli groans, leaning down over me. ‘I like the sound of that.'

With a swift motion, the man of my dreams spins around and offers his arse to me. Mouth dripping wet, cock already hard, I drag his arse to my outstretched tongue and devour him.

I pause long enough to whisper two words. ‘Agape mou.'

Oli mumbles something back, but his face is buried into the bedding so I can barely make it out. But I know, as I return my tongue to his arse, his answer was the same.

‘Agape mou.'

My love.