To Mend a Broken Wing, page 19
We embraced, but not in a sexy way. More of a big brotherly hug, which was fine with me.
“That miserable sod behind the bar is lucky to have you,” Rob said in a muffled voice as he squeezed me tight.
“Yeah, er…about that. Let’s just say he’s a work in progress.”
“And he’s got an impressive right hook.”
I squeezed Rob back; if this was the last time I’d cop a feel of his solid body, I was going to make it a good one. Which reminded me of something. “I can’t believe you’ve actually had your hands and your mouth all over Freddie Avery. You fucking jammy sod.”
Chapter Twenty
Noah
DON’T MENTION IT. Don’t mention it. Don’t mention it.
“What the hell were you doing with him?”
Toby jumped a mile. Turning from hanging up his coat in the cloakroom, he found me waiting for him, arms folded and breathing fire.
He exhaled loudly and swore. “Christ, Noah. You frightened the life out of me.”
“Are you back with him?” I demanded, just in case he hadn’t got it the first time.
He looked me up and down, his expression unreadable. “Hi, nice to see you too. Although I reckon headless Lady Louisa would have given me more of a welcome.”
Okay, so I may have let my anxiety get the better of me. He brushed past, and I followed him down the dark passage and into the kitchen. I loved his busy, hip wiggling walk. It was as if he always had somewhere important to be. I loved the way he slowed it down, too, when he took Orlando out to say hello to the cows. There wasn’t much I didn’t love about him, to be honest.
Thankfully, we were alone. Lucien had disappeared up to his private sitting room hours ago, and Jay wasn’t back yet.
“Of course I’m not with him,” Toby said irritably. “He wanted to talk; that’s all. Not that I have to justify myself to you.”
“Does he need to have his big farmer’s hands all over you to talk? Can’t he talk to you on the phone, from, like, Antarctica? I’m a jealous fucker, remember?”
“Huh. Not so jealous that you haven’t been keeping away from me for a week.”
He picked up the kettle, walked over to the sink, and filled it with water. Seeing as he was avoiding eye contact, I addressed his narrow back.
“I had some thinking to do. About a lot of things.”
“About buggering off again? Those sorts of things?”
“Yes,” I conceded. “Amongst others.”
He viciously flicked the switch on the kettle. “Take a proper coat with you this time. And a warm hat. It’s still quite chilly at night.”
I watched as he stretched up for a mug, then clattered around in the cutlery drawer with more force than strictly necessary to retrieve a teaspoon. I sucked in a deep breath.
“Look, Toby. I’m not very good at saying sorry. But I…I apologise.”
There, I’d said it, and it hadn’t been as hard as I’d imagined. He didn’t need to know I’d been practising in front of the bathroom mirror all evening, swallowed pride in one hand and a desperate need to bury my face in his hair balanced in the other. Judging that had gone well, I pushed on with the second half.
“I’m sorry for the horrible words I said and implied. You haven’t had things easy; I know that. Even though you make everything you do seem so…so…effortless.” I hovered behind him as the kettle chuffed out a thin wisp of steam. His hand gripped the waiting mug tightly, his stump hidden up his sleeve.
“You’re um…quite amazing. I think so anyhow.”
Almost imperceptibly, his shoulders dropped, so I carried on, wanting more than anything to slide my arms around his narrow waist and feel the weight of him against me.
“So can we be friends again now?” I sounded like a small kid in a playground asking the bigger boys for his ball back. Please say we are.
The kettle came to the boil and switched itself off, although Toby made no move to pick it up. With a small shake of his head, he chuckled softly. “You’re the second person to apologise to me tonight. And the second to ask me if we are still friends.”
Finally, he turned to face me and leaned back against the worktop. With his arms folded defensively, he shook his head again in bemusement. “Although Rob didn’t tell me I was amazing. I’m not, by the way, but I’ll take it.”
I took a step towards him. “Can you be, like, a bit friendlier with me than him? I…I’m going to need you more. I need to be first with you, not second.”
That wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be either. Before I became too carried away and put my foot in it, I leaned down, grabbed his face, and kissed him. The plush silk softly kissing me back was every bit as glorious as I remembered.
“You are first,” he murmured around my insistent tongue. The band of tension wrapped around my head unwound a little. “There is no second. But this isn’t going to magically change things. Problems aren’t like electrical appliances. You can’t just turn them on and off.”
“I know.” I swept my thumb along the angular line of his jaw. “But kissing you is smoothing the way.”
Eventually, I pulled off him; he sounded like he was struggling to breathe. Holding him in my arms, I decided that in a minute, when I’d kissed him a bit more, I’d take him to bed. I’d bought some supplies on my last trip into Allenmouth and planned on making use of them. Up until now, we hadn’t done much more than hands and mouths, but I knew what I wanted; Toby could fill me in on the practicalities. As I gazed down at him, his eyes searched mine.
“You need to let me help you, Noah. You need to let me inside. I can’t help otherwise—none of us can—if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking. Or where we’re all going wrong.”
“You’re not going wrong,” I answered immediately. “I’ve got to…I’ve…I can’t explain how I feel. I’m not like you, I’m not used to all these people…” I searched for the right word. “…caring about me, I guess. And I want to let them help, I want to trust them, I really do, but something stops me from just…giving in.”
A familiar frustration washed over me. “As I said, I can’t explain it very well.”
On tip toe, he reached up, sliding his arms around my neck and into my hair, dragging my head down. Soft lips brushed against mine. “Try. I’m here for you. Just throw the words out, Noah—I’ll put them together.”
Oh, God. This boy. If he could handle me at my worst and still wanted me, then anything seemed possible.
Naturally, Jay chose that precise moment to come home from the pub. Too bound up in the fabulousness of the moment, neither of us heard or noticed him saunter into the kitchen. Not until he switched on the dazzling overhead lights.
“Jesus Christ, Noah! Put him down!”
Shitting hell. I sprang away from Toby as if I’d been electrocuted, and to the sound of Jay pissing himself laughing.
“Finally. You’ve made friends again!”
He grinned with delight, almost punching the air. “Thank fuck! No excuses not to turn up for cricket now, Noah. I can stand down Second-Best Man. You have no idea how much that will please my husband.”
While I was dying of embarrassment, Toby chuckled and raised his eyebrows. I swore this lot spoke in riddles.
“Are we talking pink-feather-boa level of pleased?” he asked.
Jay was already on his way to the stairs. “Oh, yes, most definitely.” He winked at Toby. “Don’t let the kids disturb us too early in the morning.”
*
EVEN THE KNOWLEDGE that in another part of this vast house, Toby’s employers were probably chortling happily at my expense didn’t put me off my stride. I dragged Toby urgently by the hand along dark corridors that no longer held the power to terrify me until we reached my room and barrelled through the door. I faced him, standing in the middle of the floor, his hand still gripped in mine.
“I bloody love you, you know.”
There. I’d said it. The other thing I’d wanted to say. I hadn’t needed to practice this one; the words had been waiting for days on the tip of my tongue. Probably not the most romantic declaration, but it summed up my feelings exactly, so I was going to roll with it. I saved Toby from answering by capturing his perfect lips with my own again. We kissed where we stood, a two-headed mess of tangled limbs and tongues, our echoing breathy sighs turning to frustrated growls for more. As he ground against me, I obliged, almost ripping apart his jeans to release his beautiful cock, then sank to the floor.
“I bloody love doing this too.”
I sucked him off as if devouring ice cream on a scorching hot day, lapping at the taste of his sex, where it oozed from his slit, licking up and greedily swallowing his bitter salt. Flattening my tongue, I swallowed him down, fucking his cock with my mouth, every perfect whimper and deepening thrust taking him closer to the edge. I couldn’t get enough of his smell, burying my nose in the musky masculine scent of his pubes. When the first hot spray hit the back of my throat, I choked it down, and the next, and every fucking drop after that until I’d wrung him dry, and still I was parched for more.
Afterwards, flushed and relaxed, he looked so fucking perfect. And so fucking dressed. The jeans came off, his sweater followed. My own clothes joined his on the floor.
Still not enough. I needed more. More than hands and mouths. I needed my body inside him. An uncharacteristic wave of shyness rippled through me. What if he didn’t want to? What if he wanted it the other way around? What if I buggered it up? Literally.
His hand had been resting on my hip, and it slid down towards my straining cock. He bit on his lip. “What do you want to do about this?”
Curling his palm around it, he gave me a firm rub, and I hissed with pleasure. No more rubbing like that, was my immediate response, not if I had designs on following through on plan A. In the end, Toby made it easy for me.
“Gay fuck?” His eyes sparkled, and my old friends, dimple one and dimple two, lit up his face. My cock liked the sound of that idea, too, and I gave the base a warning squeeze.
“Oh God, yes. I’ve bought some stuff. But I’ve never done it with a bloke before, so you’ll have to lead the way.” I flashed him a cocky grin. “Don’t worry; I’m a quick learner.”
Toby hesitated. “Erm…okay. But I’ve never done it either.”
The violent screeching of brakes in my head was swiftly followed by a comedy U-turn. “What? But I thought…you…Rob…you…”
“No, never,” he confirmed. “I’ve never liked anyone enough or been comfortable enough with someone that it was something I wanted to do. Including Rob and the grubby front seats of his Land Rover. You’re the only man I’ve ever actually lain in a bed with.”
So much for being shown the ropes. For a minute, we stared at each other like a right pair of chumps, him still with his hand on my rapidly wilting cock. He shivered; goosebumps pebbled on his arms.
“And now?” I asked. “Are you sure? I mean, we could do something else; we’ve never…”
Closing the gap between us, Toby smoothed his hand and his left forearm down my back until both rested on my arse. Both felt equally lovely. “Of course, I’m sure. More than anything. Losing your virginity to a difficult, grumpy northerner is, like, every gay boy’s dream come true. I swear.”
The cheeky dimples reappeared; my cock revived. He’d never liked anyone or been in a comfortable enough relationship. Until me. In one swift movement, accompanied by his squeal of shock, I lifted Toby off the floor and carried him to the bed. Seemed like I was going to have to take charge after all.
They could keep their massive stately homes with freezing cold bedrooms. When I had a place of my own, as long as it had a warm, comfy bed with Toby in it, I didn’t care what the rest of the house looked like. Pulling the duvet over us, I settled between his legs.
“Better?”
He nodded. “I want it like this,” he said. “Facing each other.”
I wasn’t entirely sure how to get the logistics of that right, but his wish was my command. I began with what I knew—kissing. I started at his mouth, providing a useful distraction from my fumbling with a bottle of lube. What the fuck was I supposed to be doing? Dousing us both in it, I guessed.
I moved from his mouth to his jaw and the scarcely-there stubble covering it. And then to the warm hollow behind his ear—I dipped my tongue into that, causing him to sigh and arch his hips. Or maybe my slick fingers were responsible for his sounds of pleasure and revived cock, perhaps because two of them had slid behind his balls and were at his hole, rubbing gently, pressing more firmly on the inviting bud, then teasing their way in. Another sigh, followed by his thighs falling open, begging for more. Then another roll of his hips onto my fingers. So fucking hot.
“You like that, babe?”
His breath landed in rapid steamy, wet puffs against my neck, quiet moans joining them with every stroke of my fingers. “God, yeah. Yeah.”
I pulled the duvet aside, suddenly so much warmer, and looked down at him. His small pretty cock lay proudly on his belly, dripping wet. My wrist had disappeared behind his balls, my fingers hidden in a satin vice. Experimentally, I crooked them in the manner I liked doing to myself. Toby whimpered and thrust up; his stump, all self-consciousness forgotten, exposed on the pillow over his head. The fingers of his right hand dug into my bicep. Even fucking hotter. With every writhe of his hips and jerk of my wrist, the underside of my own cock, engorged, heavy and impatient, brushed against the crease of his thigh and belly. Any longer, and I might not last.
I chanced a glance up at Toby’s beautifully flushed face, tilted back, his lush swollen lips belonging only to me, slightly parted. A sheen of sweat coated his brow. Fucking lovely.
With that brief assessment, I concluded I must be doing it right.
“Are you…can I…?”
“Yeah, fuck yeah. Now.”
The condom—a familiar step successfully negotiated, then more lube, for him and for me. Which meant the time had come to slip my hands behind his slim thighs, splay him wider, and line myself up with his glistening hole, all ready and open. Bracing for a second, I shot him another glance, at the watercolour-blue of his eyes, now dilated black with need. I looked at his mouth, at his freckles, then once more because I could, at his fucking joyful scores of freckles.
“I bloody love you so much,” I whispered as my tip breached his entrance. At his sharp intake of breath, I paused and ran my hand soothingly down his thigh, my fingers tracing a path along the creamy flesh. His body tensed as I sank a little deeper, tantalisingly caught in a halfway house.
“Are you okay?”
He bit his lip; he winced, and we waited. I closed my eyes and pictured the intricate engine under the bonnet of Jay’s Jag in an attempt to ignore the tightness circling my cock and the effect it was having on my balls. Something gave, Toby let out a breath he’d been holding, and his passage opened up around me.
“You sure?” I checked. “We could stop if you’re not.” No fucking way could we stop.
He nodded encouragingly as I inched closer.
“Fuck, Noah, it feels so good. I can’t describe it. It hurts, and I’m burning up inside, but it feels so good.” His eyes fluttered open, his watery gaze locked onto mine as both his arms came up, and his hand tangled in my hair, pulling me down to slant his mouth over mine.
“I love you, too, by the way,” he murmured around our kiss, and I slid all the way in. “And that feels even better.”
We were slow and clumsy at working out a rhythm, giggling softly that it took a while to find one, and not caring that we weren’t very good. Just the doing was enough, and the knowing that more times would follow, better choreographed times, maybe times when we’d try it the other way around. The future was ours for the taking. Every amateur push and pull still carried me closer to the sun anyhow. To the core of him, his essence, his heat. I did my best to have every part of us touching—mouths, hips, bellies, hearts, my cock buried deep. His arms and legs wrapped around me as he clung on, and I licked and bit him as we fucked, claiming him as mine.
I came way too quickly—before I’d even worked out how to get my hand jerking him at the same time as shagging him, never mind the voice at the back of my head saying he should come first. As my cock hit his sweet spot, his undone cry of shock flung me hurtling towards the end, whether I wanted it or not. Chasing his release with a moan, even as I withdrew, he arched and tightened his whole body, restlessly grabbing my fingers to plug his now gaping hole, to fill that needy gap and rub that needy spot. He came seconds later, pumping his own cock, spraying my face, and painting stripes on his chest, my fingers still filling his hole, my love filling his heart.
Chapter Twenty-One
Toby
I FELL ASLEEP wanting to kiss Noah some more, and the feeling hadn’t left when I woke late, pleasantly achy and wrapped in a duvet smelling of sex and us.
Unfortunately, I was alone.
A bolt of panic seized me. I briefly wondered if I’d dreamed the whole thing until Noah wandered back into the bedroom wearing nothing more than a white towel tied around his waist. It set off his skin tones and perfectly outlined his obvious erection. From his arrogant smirk and the sass in his walk, that was old news. OMG. How the hell had I found myself in possession of such a hot boyfriend?
As the towel dropped to the floor, his sinful dark gaze dropped to my mouth. I salivated. So did my dick.
“You’re up early.” Oh my God, that was the sort of joke my dad would come up with.
He shot me a grin anyhow and palmed his length a couple of times before diving under the covers and crawling up my body. “I’ve been up for ages.”
Ooh, good. Looked like we were going to celebrate last night’s sex by having sex again. Not sure I was quite up to the whole shebang just yet, but any time he felt like exploring my—
“I had things to do. Travel plans to sort.”
He tweaked my nipple, laughed, and tweaked it again before treating it to a firm lick. Travel plans. I wriggled with discomfort, and he stopped. His previous sentence had negated his right to lick my nipples quite so freely.
