Chapter 1

Click here to read the Disclaimer and Warning.

Chapter 1: Commitment

I walked into the flat with my messenger bag slung over my shoulder, carrying the plastic bag with the Thai take-away in one hand and the Waitrose bag with the beer in the other. It'd been a long day and week and I was tired, hungry, and annoyed at the ridiculous queues I'd had to endure at both of my stops, not to mention the usual mad crush of commuters on the tube. Never had I been so glad that we'd designated this Friday a date night and decided to stay in instead of going out. Not that hanging out with everyone at Molly's was a bad way to spend an evening, but we'd done that for the past three nights in a row and I was looking forward to just relaxing at home with my man, preferably in bed.

I deposited the food in the kitchen, leaning over to stick the beer into the nearly empty fridge. Had I thought about it more, or realized that I'd have to stand in the long queue regardless of the number of items I'd bought, I might have also paused to purchase some groceries, but I hadn't had that much forethought. Then again, the groceries would have just been another thing to juggle on the way back, and I didn't need the extra aggravation. 

“Just as well, then,” I thought, figuring it wouldn't take much time to make a trip back to Waitrose the next day with Jasper. Or perhaps we'd go to Portobello Market first. Either way, no harm done just picking up the beer tonight.

I picked my bag up over my head and dropped it on the floor in the hallway. 

"Jasper, love, are you here? I have dinner," I called as I made my way into the tiny living room.

"Oh, hey," he said, sounding surprised. He was sitting at the small bistro table, his netbook open before him, looking as if I just distracted him from something. "I was doing some research and I must have lost track of time," he explained.

"No worries," I said, walking up behind him and leaning down to wrap my arms around his body as I pressed my lips into the side of his neck. His skin felt soft and warm, and my nostrils filled with the masculine scent of the sandalwood cinnamon soap he'd started using a couple of weeks ago. "I'm just glad to find you home. I'd missed you and I hoped you wouldn't have to stay late tonight. I told Greg he'd regret it if he didn't make sure you left on time today."

"Is that why he all but shoved me out the door at five o'clock?" Jasper chuckled and turned his head back to me for a kiss. I gladly covered his lips with mine, enjoying the slightly uneven texture and the mild residue of salt & vinegar. I guessed he must have snacked on crisps when he got home from work. Salt & vinegar were his favorite, and he frequently complained about how much he'd miss them when he went back home.

"Probably," I confirmed, pulling away. "You taste good, but I hope you didn't spoil your dinner." I looked at the screen of his netbook, surprised to see a real estate listing. "What're you researching, then?"

"This?" he acted surprised again as he turned back towards the computer. 

"Oh," I could see a faint flush creeping up from his neck to his face, just barely staining his skin pink. "Um, remember how the other day we were saying how this place is a bit cozy for the two of us, and then how you asked me if I would consider staying here permanently after the internship is over? Well, I've been thinking about that and I thought if I were to stay, we might need to find a bigger flat."

"Seriously? You're not having me on?" I asked, shocked but thrilled as well. I had been thinking more and more how much I loved living with him and how bloody awful it would feel to be alone again when he returned to the States, but when I asked him to consider staying, I never imagined he would actually consider it. He still had a year to go at uni and he'd already transferred schools once. I didn't really dare get my hopes up that he might be willing to do it again, especially when the transfer involved a move across the ocean, away from all his friends and family. Certainly, he'd already done that once too, and he did have some friends in the UK, but undeniably it would be a big adjustment, bigger even than when he moved from Washington state to New York.

He looked back at me again and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I like it here, in London. I like working for the BBC, having a pint or three with the guys at Molly's after work, watching Viktor kick ass on the football pitch, and I really like being with you. I can't think of a reason why any of that would change in the next couple of months. When you made me think about staying, I realized I could think of plenty of reasons to do so, and not too many to go back. So if you were serious, then so am I."

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't think of what to say. This was so far beyond my expectations, beyond my hopes even. There were no words to express exactly what I felt.

I thought my life had been over when I watched H. walk up the aisle with his new wife on his arm. Standing there in the church, forcing a smile onto my face as my insides withered. He couldn't even bother to spare me a glance, the whole of his attention focused on Ginny, while I felt myself slowly dying, getting sucked into a black hole. By then it had already been over a year since he and I last slept together, the night before he announced his engagement, and over 10 months since we'd exchanged anything resembling a civil word, but some spark of love had still smouldered, at least for me, only to be extinguished that day. I knew I shouldn't have gone, that I should have had the resilience to stay away, as I had when invited to his stag party, but some deeply masochistic part of me needed to witness the end. And so there I stood with all the other wedding guests, outwardly clapping and cheering as much as I could force myself to and inwardly imploding.

Somehow I got from the church to the reception, where Greg later told me I got so pissed I couldn't stand straight or remember my name. It took both Vince and Viktor to practically carry me back to my apartment and bed. Greg, being the good mate that he has always been, insisted he and Viktor spend the night to make sure I was all right. Given the undersized sofa I'd bought to not overpower my flat, that alone was quite a sacrifice on their part, as was taking care of me the next day when my head felt like it was about to explode and it was all I could do to make it to the toilet and then back to bed.

I was gutted, but with time things got better. I was bloody fortunate to have Greg, Viktor, Vince and Dré to stand by me and shore me up during the worst of it. If it hadn't been for them, I probably would have given in and tried to reach him, regardless of how pathetic that would have made me look, but the anticipation of Dré's scorn and Greg's disappointment kept me from dialing his familiar number. Eventually, I even started seeing other guys, not necessarily because I wanted to, but because I got tired of hearing how I needed to. The snogging and shagging was alright, but none of the boys I bonked made me feel anything like what I felt for H. None until Jasper.

I'll admit it, since that New Year's Eve celebration in New York there'd been plenty of times I'd wanked off to the memories of pounding his sweet ass while milking his impressive cock. From the moment I'd met him and sucked him off in the club during his first visit to London there was something about him that stayed with me, wouldn't quite let me forget him. It wasn't just about looks, though thinking about his blond curls, blue eyes and tall, lean frame did get my cock stirring. Maybe it was his quiet intelligence, and the way we could converse for hours on end about books and movies and other things that held no interest for any of my friends. Maybe it was the fact that we'd both had such rotten luck with men and yet were determined to somehow get past our respective disappointments. Or maybe it was his naiveté and vulnerability, intermingled with a surprising steely strength and resolve. He was a paradox, an enigma, a puzzle I needed to figure out. He was also a Yank, living thousands of miles away, and the occasional e-mails and phone calls we exchanged were nowhere near enough to form anything except friendship.

Until he told me one night that Greg was trying to fix him up with an internship at the BBC, and that he might be coming to London for a full term. Suddenly what had been unthinkable became a possibility. If the internship worked out, he would be in London not for a weekend or weeklong visit, but for several months. We could do more than simply fuck and suck each other as often as physically possible in the few hours we had together. We could take our time and really get to know each other: go to the theatre or a museum, take a daytrip or a minibreak to the countryside, have lunch in a park, or stay home and watch bloody French films that none of the other guys could stomach, go to sleep together and wake up together, like we did in New York, but without the damn clock ticking away our minutes together. We could be friends and lovers and see if maybe there was life after Edward and H. And we did. And we found out there was, indeed, something there, something neither of us thought we'd feel again.

The plan was for Jasper to live with Viktor and Greg, and when we met that first night at Molly's, with the rest of the guys in tow, I had no real intentions of interfering with that scheme. I didn't want him to feel pressured or obligated in any way. I would have been happy to go out a few nights a week, with maybe an occasional overnight to start, just to see if we were as compatible as we seemed to be judging by our e-mails and calls. But even that first night, hell, even in the first fifteen minutes, I was sure, and I didn't need any more time. Though the wait had been nerve wrecking, once we saw each other there were no shy glances, no awkward moments trying to think of what to say or how to behave. He simply stepped into my arms and into my kiss as if the two years since we last saw each other were mere minutes. It wasn't a tentative embrace or kiss, either. He was confident, grabbing my head with both strong hands and pressing his lips to mine with the same self-assurance I found so fucking erotic that New Year's morning in New York. I responded in kind, my tongue demanding entry into his all too willing mouth and probing deeply, staking my claim with no reservations. I moved my hands from his lower back to his arse and pulled him closer into me, our pelvises and fully hard dicks grinding into each other, eliciting mutual groans of pleasure.

"So you're happy to see each other again, yeah?" Greg's teasing voice finally broke through our lust and caused us to reluctantly step apart.

"That's the Yankee way, innit?" Dré drawled with his signature condescending sneer. "Always so bloody subtle. Why don't you just drop your trousers and go at it right here at the table?"

"Sod off, you petty git," I barked at him. "Stop acting like a petulant wanker just because, for once, the attention is not on you." Then, turning to Jasper, I said, more softly, "I'm glad you finally made it back to London. Took you long enough."

"Yeah, well," Jasper's smile reached all the way to his eyes, "had I known I could expect this kind of reception, I might have come back sooner."

"I knew I was forgetting to tell you something all those times we talked," I teased him back, reaching up to rest my hand on his stubbly cheek. "It's good to see you, Jasper."

"You too, Rick," He moved his hands to my shoulders, stepped back and ran his eyes over me, head to toe. "You look every bit as damn good as I remembered."

"And I am every bit as damn good as you remembered, too," I boasted.

"All right, all right," Greg broke in again. "We all know how much of a sex god you think you are, Rick. But it's Jasper's first night in London and we all want to have a chance to have a few pints and catch up. You two will have plenty of time to get intimately re-acquainted later, yeah? Now, what's everyone drinking? First round's on us."

Jasper went home to Greg and Viktor's that night, and he spent a couple more nights there that week, but it didn't take much longer than that for me to convince him that ferrying his clothes and toiletries back and forth between my flat and Greg's house didn't make much sense when I could just as easily make room for all his stuff at mine, which would give us all the more time together. It helped that he hadn't brought much with him from America, so moving in together was easy and felt bloody right.

When I lived with H., everything had been regimented and segregated. His things always had to be apart from mine, so that no one visiting could possibly draw the conclusion that we were anything but roommates. We couldn't even have matching bath towels, lest anyone suspect that we might have gone shopping together. With Jasper, none of that was an issue. He'd fitted himself into my home and life and blended in seamlessly, as if he'd always been there. He had preferences that differed from mine, sure, and habits that took getting used to, but even those weren't too bothersome and mostly served as reminders that I finally had someone to share my life again.

Or, rather, I had someone to actually fully share my life, for the first time. With H., most of the sharing was done in the bedroom. Not that I complained - sex was a very strong backbone of our relationship. But outside of the apartment there were rules and limitations, things we could and could not do, and limits on how often we could do them. We could see an Arsenal match, but only once every few months with Greg, Vince and Dré, and then only if we stayed out of Dré's father's box and away from the paparazzi. We could grab a pint together after work, as long as we didn't have any physical contact and stayed in the neighborhood. We definitely could not go to Soho except on rare occasions, usually when one of our friends had a special celebration, and then we had to arrive separately. Theatre was out of the question, deemed entirely too intimate. Cinema and museum exhibits were evaluated on a one-off basis. Most of the time they were too much trouble to even contemplate.

Unlike H., Jasper was completely open about his sexuality and had no qualms about doing anything and everything together. He was insatiably curious about London and the surrounds, and in the months we lived together I may well have seen and done as much as, if not more than I had in all the time since moving to London after graduation. With anyone else the pace would have been exhausting, but Jasper's enthusiasm made up for the frenetic activity. It wasn't just that he was a few years younger and I was the tolerant and indulgent older boyfriend. His excitement about silly things like a back stage tour at the Drury Lane or climbing atop one of the lions at the bottom of Nelson's column in Trafalgar Square together, so some stranger could take our photo, was at once ridiculous and completely infectious. Just being with him in public was addictive in and of itself. He was so easygoing and comfortable in his own skin, not to mention fucking gorgeous, that it fed my soul and gave me an unbelievable high to just hold his hand as we walked down the street or have him press up close to me on the tube, or to watch him flit away when he found something he had to look at right away in a museum, only to return moments later with a sheepish look, an apologetic kiss, and a gentle tug on my arm requesting me to follow, which of course I did without a moment's hesitation. Even routine things like going to the supermarket, annoying when I had to do them alone, became fun when he was with me, punctuated as they were by small hugs and kisses and his general wide-eyed appreciation of items I usually took no notice of that apparently weren't available in America. 

And of course the nights out with the boys at Molly's and dancing at one of the clubs were an unprecedented treat. He'd become a much better dancer since we took him clubbing that first time, much less inhibited and much more enthusiastic. Taking him dancing was always a huge high. Truth was, I loved it all and, for the first time since we were all in boarding school and H. was still able to hang out with all of us without worrying every second about how he would be perceived, I was genuinely happy. Happy enough to want it to last forever, even though I knew that was only a fantasy.

In the back of my mind I was keenly aware that with each passing day the moment that he would have to get on the plane that would whisk him and all the happiness away from me was steadily approaching, stealthy and stalking, like a predator, getting closer and closer until the moment it would pounce for the kill. I tried to keep these thoughts from surfacing too often, so as not to spoil the time I had with him in the present with dour visions of the future. And for the most part I succeeded, because when I was with him it was almost impossible to remember a time when he hadn't been there or imagine a time when he wouldn't be there. Everything about him - his body, his skin, his scent, his laugh, his voice, even his breathing - anchored me solidly in the moment. But during the day, when I was at work, reality intruded all too often, and I remembered that what we had together was like a film production. Sure, the sets and costumes were elaborate, and the extras convincing, but there would be a time when the production would shut down and the illusion would be gone. And Jasper would be gone with it.

Easy as it was to keep my thoughts away from the dark places while I was with Jasper, I did slip that one evening. It was a Friday night exactly a week ago. We'd come back home late from a night out clubbing with the guys and made hot, passionate love on the floor in the living room, not willing to wait long enough to take the few extra steps to get to the bedroom. Afterwards, spent and exhausted, he'd fallen asleep in my arms, curling up against me right there on the rug. I wasn't as tired and I was uncomfortable as hell on the hard floor, but I didn't have the heart to wake him so I just laid there and let my mind wonder. And wouldn't you know, the fucker went right to the darkest place possible. It was already mid-March. He'd been in London for two and a half months and he'd be gone in two more. I had 8 more weeks to look forward to before it was all taken away. And then, just because I absolutely refused to get morose with the golden boy there in my arms, I started to imagine alternatives. What if it didn't have to all end? What if I followed him to America, or he stayed in England? It was while I was considering all the different possibilities and permutations that he finally reached up and kissed me, letting me know that he had awakened while I was musing.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said. "Or should I say pence?"

"Doesn't matter," I replied quietly. "Do you really want to know?" I realized I desperately wanted to tell him, but needed for him to ask, to make it clear that I was merely responding, not pushing the suggestion.

He frowned a little. "I think so. You were smiling, so I assumed good thoughts."

"They were good thoughts," I confirmed. "Daydreams, really."

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me, throwing his leg up over my hip and pressing himself tighter against me. "I'm not sure any thoughts you might have this time of night could be classified as daydreams, but I sure am intrigued. I wonder if your daydreams were anything like my dreams."

I could feel his already semi-erect cock growing against my abdomen and I reached down to caress his buttock, and then moved my hand lower to gently fondle his sac, eliciting an approving hum. "Perhaps not exactly like your dreams," I conceded. "But they were good thoughts. I was just imagining a future for us, together."

"Really?" his blue eyes flashed with surprise. "Tell me more," he requested. "I like this daydream already." He rocked his hips against me again for emphasis.

"Yeah?" This was as close as we'd come to discussing the nature of our relationship. I knew he'd enjoyed living with me and all the things we did, but up until that night we simply hadn't addressed the possibility of what we had continuing beyond his scheduled stay. I hefted his balls in my hand, then gently massaged them with my fingers. "You like the idea of doing this longer than just the next two months?"

"Mm - hmm," he confirmed with a small smile. "I certainly don't like the idea of prematurely ending a good thing. And what we have here is a very good thing. So go on, then, tell me about the daydream."

"Well, I was just going through the possibilities, really. I thought maybe I could move stateside. I liked what I saw of America when we went last time, and your uni is somewhere I haven't been yet, isn't it? I have some money set aside. It might be nice for me to play tourist until you graduate, and then hopefully find a position in New York City."

"I'm not sure you'd enjoy playing tourist in Rochester for a year nearly as much as I've enjoyed my time here. I'm afraid it's rather provincial, compared to London. What's the other possibility?"

"Well, you could transfer and finish school in England, then maybe find a job here. After your internship and with Greg, you should have no trouble finding a position at the BBC. I know it's asking a lot, considering you've had to move once already, but I think you enjoy London, yeah? It wouldn't be such a hardship to spend more time here?"

He laughed and rocked his hips against me again. "I suppose it depends on your definition of hardship. For me, some aspects of living in London are very hard indeed."

I smirked down at him, lifting my hand off his sac and slipping it between our bodies to grasp his thick, long, hard cock. I stroked him slowly, watching his face as he closed his eyes in pleasure.

"But it's these kinds of hardships that make living worthwhile," he continued. "And yeah, I do enjoy London, and especially one particular Londoner." He opened his eyes and looked straight into mine, his gaze intense. "Is it just a daydream, Rick? A fantasy? Or something I should seriously consider?"

I knew what he was asking, and I knew I needed to give him an honest answer, but that was easy, because looking into his eyes I really could see an infinity of tomorrows. I wouldn't make any declarations yet - I didn't think he was ready for that. But I could with ease and every ounce of sincerity tell him, 

"I would love it if you seriously considered staying in London. Staying here with me."

I expected him to close his eyes again, to try to get some privacy as he considered my request. However, he surprised me, steadfastly holding my gaze as he replied, "Then I will have to do just that."

We stared at each other for an extended moment, weighing the implications of our discussion. Then the connection intensified and I felt the invisible fire start to burn between us as Jasper began to move his cock back and forth within my hold. He brought his hand to my shoulder and pushed me onto my back, straddling me while continuing to grind.

"Maybe you can help by alleviating this particular hardship," he drawled suggestively, pushing back so that his crack pressed against my erection. "Right now this condition is distracting me from considering any other matter."

I was more than ready and willing to oblige him. We made love for the second 

time that night, this time with him controlling the pace, riding me slowly at first, his arse sensuously embracing the entire length of my cock, up and down, in and out, again, and again, and again. I tried to touch him - his cock, his chest, any part of him, but he denied me, pinning me down, his entire body weight resting on the hands loosely wrapped around my wrists, which he held at my shoulders as he raised and lowered himself onto my spike. I didn't mind being immobilized. Just the opposite - I found it extremely hot when he took control of sex and used me for his pleasure. It was only the fact that this was our second round in less than an hour, coupled with his quick reaction to pull off me when I tried to thrust into him faster, that kept me from slipping over the edge and exploding inside him before he was ready for me to do so.

Eventually the slow torture got to be too much even for him, and he leaned down to kiss me thoroughly and aggressively before releasing my wrists, one at a time, to rest his hands on my chest for better balance as he began to ride me in earnest. I locked my hands on his arse, lifting my hips to meet him thrust for thrust. The faster pace didn't allow for full penetration, but it stimulated my frenulum plenty, even through the condom. From the expression on his face I knew I was hitting his sweet spot as well. He looked fantastic, his eyes closed, a blend of pleasure and concentration covering his face, his blond waves bouncing like an angel's golden halo. I knew at the rate we were going I wouldn't last long, and more than anything I wanted to watch his face as he came, so I brought my right hand to my mouth and liberally covered it with saliva before reaching for his turgid cock. I could see by the tightness of his scrotum that he was as close as I was and, sure enough, after less than a dozen strokes he cried out and painted my chest and stomach with his cum. Moments later I followed, my hoarse cries echoing his. I'd closed my eyes during orgasm, and when I opened them I found him staring down at me with a beautiful, easy smile.

"Yeah, you've given me many good reasons to stay in London," he teased. His body glistened above me, covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

"And I'll give you as many more as you need to make up your mind," I offered, not entirely selflessly.

Seven days had passed since then and we hadn't mentioned the subject again. Certainly I wanted to know what he was thinking, if he was even thinking about it at all, but I didn't want to pressure him. Today, he finally seemed ready to give me his answer.

"You were serious, right?" Jasper's voice nudged me out of my reverie.

"Yes, of course," I hastened to reassure him. "Serious as a bloody heart attack. Jasper..." I still lacked words, so I leaned down to kiss him, opting to show him how I felt instead.

"There's still a lot to figure out," he said when we finally pulled apart. "I have to get accepted at school here somewhere, see about extending a visa, talk to my parents. And then after graduation I'm sure there will be some work permit issues. It's not a done deal."

"I know," I conceded, without letting his reminder of reality put a damper on my excitement. "But the most important thing is you want to stay. Everything else will work itself out."

Suddenly I forgot every annoyance and aggravation, and my energy level miraculously renewed itself. I reached for his hand and when he took it, pulled him to his feet and then towards the bedroom.

"What about dinner?" he giggled, though he didn't resist. "I thought you were hungry? The food will get cold."

"The food isn't going anywhere, and there's a reason we have a microwave. 

Besides, I'm about to satisfy the most pressing hunger I have at the moment."

We tumbled together onto the bed and didn't leave until we were both completely spent and sated.

Chapter 2

Click here to read the Disclaimer and Warning.

Chapter 2: Encounter

Without a doubt, there was nothing in life as good as waking up with lips wrapped around my hard cock, tongue lapping at my head and frenulum. It was great not because morning head was necessarily better than head at any other time, but because first thing in the morning it was so unexpected, such a great start to the day. And it was special because I experienced it so rarely.

For better, for worse, I'd always been a relatively early riser. I wasn't a morning person who jumped out of bed at the crack of dawn with a big smile on my face. In fact, I was much more of a night owl, far happier staying up late even if it meant cutting into my sleep. But regardless of what time I went to sleep, I always tended to wake up at the same time in the morning, and that time was usually earlier than the few men with whom I'd ever spent the entire night. Only extreme exhaustion or particularly good dreams ever kept me asleep long enough to give my bedmate the opportunity to surprise me with a morning blow, if he were so inclined. I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times this had happened, which meant I particularly enjoyed waking up that Saturday morning to feel warm, wet lips sliding up and down my length.

With great effort, because the pleasure I felt almost dictated that I keep them closed, I forced my eyes open and looked down at the mop of wavy blond hair between my legs that obscured the face of its owner. He seemed particularly dedicated to his task, not looking up even as I moved my hands to his head and wound my fingers into his soft hair to let him know I was awake. He continued bobbing on my cock, sliding his tongue over the sensitive underside as he sucked just enough to drive me crazy without making me come. I moaned his name and he began to hum in response, still without lifting his head to look at me. I threw my head back and allowed my eyes to drift closed again, blocking out everything but the sounds and sensations of the amazing blow job.

He was so good at this, his lips and tongue massaging my entire shaft as he pulled me deeper and deeper into the confines of his tight, hot, slick throat. He sucked and licked and ever so lightly grazed with his teeth, bringing me right to the edge and keeping me there until I was bucking off the bed and helplessly begging for release. The undulating constrictions as he swallowed around me took me right to the edge and almost pushed me over, but he pulled back off my cock just enough to maintain the tension without giving in to my pleas. His tongue flitted relentlessly against my banjo string while I fisted the sheet on my sides, nearly pulling it off the bed completely. I pushed my hips up higher and higher in a vain attempt to force him to take me in deep and finally let me come. I heard his infuriating chuckle, but my silent vows to get even got lost amid my frustrated whimpers.

Then, finally, he relented and began sucking me in earnest, his intentions clear. His lips in constant motion while his long fingers stroked my constricted nuts, ensured that in no time I was crying out in the throes of one of the most intense orgasms I could ever remember, my whole body shuddering with each shot of cum delivered into his eager mouth. My hands tightened in his hair and I may have yanked at it too roughly, but he made no complaint, just drank my juice and lapped at my spent cock to coax out more.

When I truly had nothing left to give I collapsed limply back on the bed, panting, my body covered in a thin coat of sweat. He pulled off my cock but remained at the foot of the bed, his cheek resting on my inner thigh.

"Loved that so fucking much, Jasper. What a way to wake up!" I managed to gasp out.

"Happy to do it," he drawled with amusement. "I woke up hungry for a big breakfast."

I didn't, couldn't respond. For a while there was no sound in the room except for our breathing.

"So I guess we'd better get up and get on with our day, huh?" I asked after I calmed down sufficiently to speak.

"Mm," he hummed, sliding up my chest until his lips were pressed against my nipple. "We could do that. Or we could just stay right here and go for round two," he teased, closing his mouth around the tight peak and sucking gently. I inhaled sharply and my cock twitched despite the recent workout.

"God, you make that sound so tempting."

He looked up at me with a leer and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as his fingers ghosted over my abs. "Exactly what I was hoping!"

"But Baby, we have to get food for the week, and then we have the appointment to see the flat, and tonight there's that new play you wanted to try to see, yeah? So as lovely as spending a whole Saturday in bed would be, we can't spare the time, can we?"

He sighed and looked up at me.

"Sometimes I wish you were less practical," he complained, but the dutifully rolled off me. "Can we at least play a little in the shower?" he asked, his voice deliberately seductive. I just laughed and pointed with my chin in the direction of the bathroom.

Eventually we made it out of the flat and walked over to Waitrose, picking up groceries to last us a week. We stopped at the flat to put everything away, then took the tube from High Street Kensington to Notting Hill Gate. We had lunch with Greg, Viktor and Helena before heading off to see a flat only a short walk away from theirs. I knew Jasper was excited at the possibility of living so close to our friends, and while I loved my neighborhood, as long as we found something in our price range with all the amenities we wanted, I was happy give in on the location. Never mind the shit I would catch for it later from Dré.

We met with the estate agent in front of the building and walked up to the flat together. It had some of the things we were looking for: an updated, larger kitchen, with enough room for a small bistro table, a luxury we did not have at my flat; two bright and good-sized bedrooms; living room with the working fireplace Jasper wanted. Unfortunately, the bathroom was a nightmare, featuring an old fashioned tub that would have been great for soaking but not showering, and would never have fitted the two of us together. There was also absolutely ghastly wallpaper covering every wall, garish carpeting throughout, and no private outdoor space. After the walk-though Jasper and I exchanged a glance and it was clear we both agreed: we simply weren't looking for a home improvement project. We thanked the estate agent and asked her to contact us if she had any similar properties for us to look at.

I was encouraged after seeing the flat. Even if wasn't quite what we hoped, we were narrowing in on our must haves and location. Best of all, Jasper and I were in total agreement about what we wanted. This feeling of harmony, with both of us on the same page and wanting the same things, was so new and foreign, it still managed to surprise me. I wondered how long it would be before I began to take it for granted.

We lazed around the rest of the afternoon before meeting Dré and Vince at Molly's for a pint and a bite. We parted with the guys shortly thereafter to queue up at the Noel Coward Theatre box office in an attempt to get last minute tickets to a sold-out new play. Ordinarily I might have been annoyed at wasting our Saturday night standing around hoping to get lucky with someone else's rejects when we could have been dancing or at the cinema instead. Knowing how excited Jasper was about this particular production, however, and how happy he would be to see it, made the wait bearable. The fact that he was practically glued to me the entire time, focusing exclusively on me and on occasion grasping my hand, leaning on my shoulder, or placing his hand on my chest as if to emphasize a point just to have an excuse to touch me, also made it easy to indulge him. It felt good to be with a man who was so willing to publicly fawn all over me. It was especially flattering when occasionally I'd catch the eye of another guy who watched us with obvious envy, his own partner not being nearly as generous with his or her attention.

I had just looked away from Jasper for one of my periodic scans of the lobby, when my eyes stopped abruptly and I stiffened with shock. Perceptive as always, Jasper immediately noticed the change in my demeanor.

"Rick? What's wrong?"

Even as he asked the question, he was turning to look in the direction of my gaze. I hadn't necessarily expected him to understand, but his "Oh," made it clear that he knew exactly what happened.

Standing across the lobby and staring right back at me with narrowed, furious eyes, was H. His wife, wearing a tailored dress that emphasized her prominent baby bump, stood next to him, but was involved in conversation with another couple, and hadn't noticed that her husband was frozen on the spot like a block of ice.

"That's him, isn't it?" Jasper asked. It was enough to snap me out of my trance to look into his eyes.

"Yes," I confirmed bitterly. "That's him and his lovely wife."

We both turned our gazes back to H., who was still staring at us disdainfully.

"He's an ass," Jasper observed. "And a half-wit too. No one in their right mind would ever give you up for her. She's so ... ordinary!" he said the word haughtily, as if it was the worst possible insult. In a flash I realized that if Ginny had heard him, she would have taken it exactly that way. I couldn't help but laugh, especially as I looked back into his eyes and found them full of his own amusement.

"And you think I'm not ordinary?" I asked teasingly.

"Oh no," he responded in kind. "You are anything but ordinary. You stand head and shoulders above this hoi polloi. Just look at the way everyone stares at you. I am the envy of every man and woman in this lobby, including the moron over there who let you slip through his fingers. You could have been on his arm tonight, but instead he's with the drab little woodpecker while I have my own glorious peacock. And what a cock!" he said suggestively, pressing his pelvis into mine.

I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Woodpeckers and peacocks Jasper? What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I'm not really talking about anything. Just trying to distract you and keep you focused on me instead of your ex. Is it working?" he tilted his head to the side and grinned at me flirtatiously.

"Yes," I nodded with a smile. "It most certainly is." I reached to grasp his hand. "As for who is the envy of the men and women here, I think you have that all wrong. Everyone's been shooting daggers at me all night for being the lucky sod who managed to land such a tasty dish."

"Tasty dish?" he pouted. "You make me sound like a starter."

"The starter," I said, stepping up closer to him, "the main course, and the dessert all rolled up into a most delicious, most delectable man. You're not a course, Jasper," leaning in, I whispered against his lips. "You're a buffet. And I intend to come back over and over. I may never get my fill."

I kissed him then, and for a moment we were lost in each other, forgetting that we were in a theater lobby filled with other people. It wasn't until I heard a rather loud and obnoxious female giggle next to me that I pulled back and took another look around. Other than the giggling neighbor, our brief public display of affection had mostly gone unnoticed, but I was shocked again when I realized that H. was still staring at us. This time I thought I caught something else in his eyes besides the fury I'd seen there earlier, though I was hard pressed to put a name to it. If I'd been forced, I would have said regret and longing, but since I knew H. couldn't possibly have felt anything like that about me, I stopped thinking about it and focused back on Jasper.

"Our apologies, Ladies and Gentlemen. All tickets have been turned in and we are sold out," the box office attendant came out to inform those of us still waiting. "You might have better luck at a mid-week performance," she suggested kindly.

"I'm sorry, Sting," I told Jasper sincerely. "We could still go dancing. We can catch up with Dré and Vince," I added, hoping to cheer him up and salvage the evening.

"It's all right," he dismissed his disappointment easily. "Dancing sounds like fun. I'm a little overheated for the theater anyway," he smirked.

I put my arm around him and led him towards the lobby doors. As we walked out, I cast one last glance back at H. He was still rooted in the same spot, only now his head was turned to watch our exit. Without acknowledging him in any way I looked forward again, pulling Jasper closer to me as we walked towards the club.

We didn't mention H. any more that night, and eventually I put the entire incident out of my mind. The way he'd stared at me had disturbed me on some level, but in the end it was irrelevant. He'd chosen his path in life, as was clear by the presence of his pregnant wife at his side, and obviously that path would no longer cross with mine except on rare, purely coincidental occasions. Perhaps somewhat surprisingly, I was fine with that. I had Jasper in my life and I was happy, maybe happier than I had ever been with H. Certainly I was more settled and content. Jasper and I were so comfortable with each other, alone and out in public, that there was never any reason for disagreements or strife. I never had to worry that we'd spend the evening fighting because someone might have seen our hands touching under a table in a pub. I never had to wait at home alone while he went out with his straight co-workers or friends and refused to invite me so as not to create the wrong impression. I never had to explain to my friends or family why my boyfriend didn't come with me to this event or that. We just fit together in every way. Our life was perfect. H. had been a mistake I'd let go on much too long, and I was so grateful that in the end he'd made the decision that made our final parting totally and completely irrevocable.

Sunday and the following week passed by fairly uneventfully, just like any other since I began living with Jasper. At around quarter to five one of us always called the other to figure out who would get back to the flat first and to decide whether we'd get take away, or go out with the guys, or brave my cooking, since Jasper preferred to stay as far away from the kitchen as possible. Whichever one of us got home first waited for the other to bestow a welcoming kiss and hug. Then we ate in and watched the telly or met the guys at the pub. A couple of nights I helped Jasper with his video assignment - an editing project he had to complete in for credit in conjunction with his internship. Jas was passionate about his work and especially this project - a video montage incorporating live action footage and stills with sound and narration overlay. He asked me to be the narrator, and in the evenings we would sometimes sit around his computer recording bits he'd written, or reviewing the work he'd done before he tweaked it again. We took some fuck breaks too, of course, and saw a couple more flats. And at the end of every evening we got ready for bed and fooled around or just kissed and caressed before falling asleep, only to wake up the following day to do it all over again. It was routine, but it hadn't gotten old, and I couldn't imagine a time when it would. Having someone to fall asleep next to every night and wake up with every morning was something I could never tire of. It finally felt like all the pieces of my life were falling into place. I was settled, happy, and at peace.

I should have known that feeling of quiet satisfaction couldn't last long. It was just half an hour after lunch that Friday, and moments after I'd finished my weekly report for my boss, when my desk phone rang unexpectedly. I glanced at it with no small amount of resentment, knowing I would have to answer it on the off chance it was a legitimate call, but fully expecting it to be the arsehole who apparently couldn't forget my number even as he forgot how to use words. I lifted the receiver, identified myself and waited as the predictable silence stretched. I said nothing and he didn't hang up for at least a minute. Finally, I'd had enough. A week's worth of frayed nerves, and the anticipation of who knew how much longer of the same, forced me to speak.

"Listen, you little bastard, whoever you are. You may be enjoying this little game of yours, but you're wasting my valuable time and my employer's resources by tying up this phone line with your nonsense. Call here one more time and I'll get BT to monitor the line. I be a visit from the police will get you talking. You've had your week of fun, but this had better be the last time I hear from you. Goodbye!"

I was just about to hang up when I heard a weak "Wait, please."

I frowned. The voice had been so quiet it was difficult to identify, yet it sounded familiar.

"So you can speak?" I barked, still angry. "Well go on then, who are you and what is it?"

"Rick, it's me, H.," his voice was stronger now and would have been unmistakable even if he hadn't identified himself. I felt a sudden chill.

"Have you been calling me and hanging up all week?" I asked, still angry, but calmer. Wheels turned in my head trying to figure out what he was doing.

"Yeah, I know it's been annoying you," he replied, sounding genuinely contrite. "I wanted to hear your voice, but couldn't figure out what to say."

I leaned back in my desk chair, stunned. I had no idea how to respond to him. My hand was itching to replace the receiver in its cradle. My brain was shouting for my hand to move. My heart just ached.

"What is this about, H.?" I finally asked.

"I don't know. I just... I needed to hear your voice. I've missed you."

"Really?" I was angry again. "It didn't look like it Saturday. It looked like you've been too busy producing your heir to miss me."

I startled myself with the bitterness in my voice, realizing subconsciously I must have been mulling over the run-in far more than I'd been willing to acknowledge.

He snorted. "Apparently Ginny is as fertile as her mother, so that took almost no effort. Good thing, too, because that's just about all I had in me. And now she's a raging mess of hormones and mood swings and cravings ..."

"None of that is of any interest to me," I cut him off before he sliced my entire chest open. "I'm at work and busy, so if there's nothing else ..." I let my voice trail off, hoping he would take the hint and say good bye.

"Rick, please don't hang up. I miss you."

"That means nothing to me, H.," I said, but I was lying. Hearing him say that he missed me set off feelings that I thought were long gone. Feelings I hoped were long gone. Feelings that had no place in my new life.

"I miss talking to you, Rick," he continued as though I hadn't said anything. "You're the only one who ever gave a damn about me, whoever understood what I was going through."

I sighed. He sounded so lonely and pathetic.

"You should have thought of that when you were tossing me aside for your fiancé," I pointed out, far more gently than he deserved. "You made your choice and we've gone our separate ways. I've moved on. What we had is in the past and it needs to stay there. You shouldn't have called."

"I know you've moved on," he said pitifully. "Don't you think I know that? Didn't I see the evidence with my very own eyes Saturday night? Do you know how difficult that was?"

"H., you were there with Ginny, your wife," I reminded him. "A wife that's pretty obviously carrying your child. At least Jasper's not pregnant."

"Jasper," H. was bitter. "He certainly buzzed all about you like an annoying insect. Oh, wait," he paused for a moment. "Jasper. Wasn't he the one you were with at that club years ago? The American you took behind the curtains? I thought he looked familiar. Well that just figures. Fucking Greg strikes again! He was always looking for ways to get between us ..."

"H.," I broke in to stop his diatribe. "There is no us. There hasn't been for a long time. It's difficult to get between two people who aren't together. You went your way and left me behind. What did you expect? That I would just pine for you forever? I am worth more than that, H. I deserve to be happy, to be with someone who loves me and isn't afraid to be seen with me. Someone who is, in fact, proud to be seen with me. Someone who is willing to change his life for me, instead of expecting me to be the one to make all the accommodations. And Jasper is that man. So if you're quite finished with insulting the people special to me, I think it's time to end this call. Have a nice life, and don't contact me again."

"Rick, I'm sorry. Please don't hang up. Please," it was one of the few times I've ever heard him apologize and plead. Once again, my mind was shouting at me to replace the receiver in its cradle, but something stayed my hand.

"Why have you been calling me, H.?" I asked warily. "Why now? It's been over a year and you haven't bothered to call or e-mail or even send a bloody pre-printed Christmas card. What changed all of a sudden?"

"I saw you," he said simply.

"So it's true, then, what they say? Out of sight out of mind?" I laughed sarcastically. "Sorry to have so rudely made myself visible."

"I was able to resist the temptation to contact you until I saw you, yeah," he admitted. "Rick, do you honestly not understand how difficult this is for me? I wake up every bloody morning wishing it was you beside me in my bed. I step off the tube every evening wishing it was you waiting for me at home, or meeting me at the pub, or the club. My life is so empty without you. If it wasn't for my bloody job, I swear I'd go mad. I know what I did was unforgivable, and that I should leave you alone, that I don't deserve your time. But please, Rick, I just need to talk. I need to speak with someone who knows me, the real me. Someone I trust. God, Rick. I don't have anyone I can confide in, and everything is just weighing on me, heavier and heavier. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to handle it. I need to talk to you. Meet me somewhere this afternoon, please. We can have a drink and talk. That's all Rick, I swear. I just need to talk."

"H., I really don't think I'm the person you need to talk to. Maybe you need a therapist..."

"What do you want me to do, Rick? You want me to tell a therapist how fucking sorry I am for what I did to you?; For how I told you about Ginny?; For how I treated you at the wedding? What the hell good would it do?"

I couldn't breathe. I didn't dare inhale so as not to disturb the universe in which it was possible for H. to say all the things he'd just said.

"Rick?" he asked, much more tentatively. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah," I confirmed quietly.

"I really need to say those things to you, in person."

I closed my eyes, grateful that I had an office and that I'd closed the door earlier, so I didn't have to now.

"I don't know, H.," I stalled. I knew I should tell him no, but a part of me wanted to hear these things straight from his mouth. It wouldn't really change anything, but an apology, and outright admission that he'd been wrong, would be something.

"Just leave the office now and meet me. Please."

"Now? H., I can't. Maybe Monday," I left the door open to the possibility. A weekend would help me consider the wisdom of my actions. I could call Greg and get his advice, too, though I pretty much knew what he was going to tell me.

"I can't do it Monday, Rick. And besides, I can't wait any longer. It's killing me not to be able to say these things to you. I cleared my afternoon because I'm bloody useless here anyway. I've been a wreck all week and I can't stand to go a whole weekend without being able to talk to you. Rick, I'm begging you. A couple of hours, that's all. We'll meet in a quiet public place and talk."

He still knew exactly what to say. My stomach twisted into knots at the offer. Being with him in public, for any reason, had always been a treat reserved for the most special occasions. It happened so rarely, I'd learned to savor each time like Christmas morning, loving the anticipation of it as much as every second we were out together where people could see us side by side. Not as a couple, of course. That was never permitted. But even the occasions when we were allowed to act as friends outside of our flat were so few and far between, they carried far more significance than they should. With anyone else, a meeting to talk in a quiet, public place would be so commonplace as to be completely insignificant, but for him it was a concession of the highest order. I instantly knew how badly he must have needed to see me to even suggest it. It shouldn't have made a difference to me, of course, given how little he had ever cared about accommodating my needs, but I didn't have it in me to deny him.

"Where?" I asked, resigned.

"How about Coburg bar in the Connaught?" he proposed. I groaned. I should have known he'd pick the darkest, most out of the way hotel bar he could think of in central London. It made sense, though. On a Friday afternoon, after the lunchtime business crowd had departed, the Coburg would be deserted. A perfect place for H. to make his apologies without worry about being overheard or seen. I hesitated. I already knew I wanted to see him, yet with every step I heard warning bells that I took great care and effort to silence.

I glanced at the picture of Jasper and me that graced my desk. Either Viktor or Greg had taken it at one of their dinner parties. We were relaxing after the meal. Jasper was leaning back in his chair, my arm resting along the back with my fingers gently stroking his shoulder. He faced the camera, his eyes laughing and lips curled up at some joke. I was in a slight profile, smiling as well, but my attention focused on him, the beautiful, free-spirited American who made my soul light just by being in the room. My attention should have been focused on him still, except it wasn't.

With a sigh I turned away from the photo. "When?" I asked.

"I can be there in thirty minutes," he answered immediately.

"I can't make it that quickly," I countered, feeling both dread and exhilaration. "I'll meet you at the bar in an hour."

Chapter 3

Click here for Disclaimer and Warning.

Chapter 3: Temptation

I was on my way to the tube when my phone rang. I flipped it open as soon as I saw the familiar number, wondering if he was calling to cancel, my anger flaring.

"Change your mind?" I asked brusquely without bothering with pleasantries.

"What? No!" he protested. "God no! Have you?" he asked almost tentatively.

Relieved and feeling guilty for jumping to the wrong negative conclusion, I sighed. "No, I'm on my way."

"Good. I'm so glad, Rick."

"I said I would be there, H. Did you call just to check up on me?"

"No! I called because there's been a slight change of plans."

"What?" I grew weary again.

"I went to the bar early to get a good table," he began. I rolled my eyes, knowing this was code for as far out of the public eye and away from prying ears as possible. "But when I got there, I saw that a couple of my colleagues were having a late lunch."

"So? I'm sure they'll be done by the time I get there."

"I don't know, Rick. And I couldn't take the chance."

"All right," I ran my hand through my hair, swiping my oyster to get past the gates and stepping onto the escalator down to the platforms. "So where do you want to meet?"

"Well," he hesitated. "I got a room at the hotel. Upstairs. A mini-suite, so there's a bar and a sitting area. It's private. Perfect for a talk."

"You got a room, H.?" I practically shouted. "A bloody hotel room?"

"Shh," he tried to quiet me frantically, fuck knows why. It's not like anyone overhearing my side of the conversation was going to have any fucking idea who I was talking to or what I was talking about. "I know it's a little unorthodox, but it's private, Rick."

"Unorthodox? Fuck, H. I'm with someone, in a relationship. How the fuck would I explain meeting my ex-lover in a bloody hotel room on a Friday afternoon." I was becoming highly agitated as the reality of the situation hit me with full force. I could hear the trains pulling into the station below. I watched passengers spill out and make their way to the escalators taking them out of the station, wondering if I should join them.

"It's not like that, Rick. No one ever has to know where we met. You can just say we met at the bar, if you feel the need to say anything. We'll just talk, and it doesn't matter where, right? Please!"

I wrestled internally, but in the end it was the same as always. I couldn't tell him no. He gave me the room number and we hung up. I spent the entire tube ride and walk to the hotel reassuring myself that we were both with other people and nothing was going to happen except for a conversation. He'd get some things off his chest, feel better, and forget all about me again, the way he always did. And I'd finally have the closure I was denied before, and the freedom to move on with Jasper with no baggage to weigh me down.

I walked through the hotel lobby and up the wide central staircase. Despite all the self-reassurances on the way there, I still felt uneasy. It just didn't feel right to be meeting him in a hotel room, not when I had Jasper to go home to every night. But as I walked up I kept reminding myself that this was just going to be a talk and drinks, nothing more. No matter how things ended between us, I still cared about H. apparently, in a way, and I couldn't refuse his request when he had sounded so miserable and needy.

When I got to the second floor I took a deep breath before walking down the hall to the door of his room. I took another deep breath as I lifted my fist to knock. There was a sound of movement inside the room, and then the door was pulled open and I saw H., standing to the side to let me in, a cocktail glass filled with clear liquid in hand.

"Hello, H.," I said, walking into the room. As he promised, it was a junior suite, with a distinct sitting area and bar, but not a separate bedroom. I glanced towards the large bed dominating the room, covered with luxurious white bedding, and felt even more uncomfortable. I couldn't help it - my mind automatically jumped to our one and only holiday together. It was the spring after the New Year's ski trip to America. I'd managed to hold onto my anger over our pre-Christmas break up for all of three months before his pleading overwhelmed my defences and I agreed to get back together. By then he'd had his own flat, and it made no sense for us to move back in together until his lease expired, though he'd still been willing to spend nights at mine. Of course, his paranoia at our relationship being discovered meant we were never able to spend time at his.

Thinking back on it, I couldn't explain why I agreed to get back together when he still refused to come out and make our relationship public. I'd missed him, and back then I still had hope. Obviously all that went away when I found out he'd proposed to Ginny, but before then, shortly after we got back together, we travelled to the French Riviera, where we stayed in a hotel much like this one, and made love countless times in countless ways in a four poster bed nearly identical to the one in this room. We had to force ourselves to leave the room for a couple of hours each day, just so we'd have something besides fucking each other's brains out to talk about when we got back.

My recollections were definitely having an effect on my body and tried to subtly adjust myself, only to flush when I saw H. observing me carefully.

"Remembering the French Riviera?" he guessed. I wasn't surprised. I never had much of a poker face and H. especially had been able to read me like an open book.

"It's the first thing I thought of when I stepped into the room," he said, his voice quiet and seductive, as he stepped up close behind me, pressing his obvious erection into my arse. I immediately stepped forward, feeling my flush intensify.

"I'm sorry, H. Meeting here was a mistake. I have to go," I said quickly as I tried to step around him to get to the door.

"Wait," he threw his arm out and side stepped into my path. "Please don't leave. That was inappropriate. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"This whole thing makes me uncomfortable, H.," I said, exasperated. "I mean, what the fuck? You break my heart, marry Ginny without even sparing a glance in my direction at the wedding, get her up the duff, and now, suddenly, you need to talk? And it can't possibly wait? And we have to meet in a bloody hotel room? How the hell could I ever explain this to Jasper?"

"Why do you have to explain? Why do you even need to tell him? We're just two mates talking over a drink. No need to make a bloody production out of it."

"We were never just two mates," I pointed out, running my hand through my hair in exasperation. I wasn't moving to leave, though.

"Please, Ced, I just want to talk," he pleaded. "I bloody missed you. I didn't realize how much until I saw you the other night."

"Don't call me that," I snapped.

"Don't be like that," he implored. "No matter what happens, you'll always be my Ced."

"No," I shook my head in denial. "I stopped being your Ced the day you decided to give yourself to Ginny."

"Alright, fine. Rick, then. Please, sit down. What are you drinking?"

"What's in the glass?" I tilted my head towards the beverage in his hand.

"Vodka tonic with a twist."

"Fine." I walked over to the sofa and stood in front of it, still unsure whether it was wise to stay. I could hear him behind me, pouring my drink. Reluctantly, I let my briefcase slip off my shoulder and land on the ground with a soft thump, then sat on the small sofa. I leaned forward with my forearms resting on my knees and my eyes trained on the floor. I noticed his New & Lingwood's Russia Calf Derby shoes as he walked over, and hated that I still knew his preferred brand and style. I didn't look up until he slipped the glass into my hand and the sofa dipped beside me with his weight. I took a large swallow of my drink. The liquid was cold, yet burned going down. The burn gave me courage to speak.

"What's going on, H.? What was so important that it wouldn't wait until another day?"

"I don't know," he said, taking a swallow from his once again full glass. "When I saw you last weekend it was like... Like someone threw a bucket of cold water over me to wake me up from deep sleep. It was hard enough to just think about you, about us, about what I left behind. But those thoughts were more like dreams, or nightmares. Seeing you there, with another man, it brought everything to life."

"What are you saying?" It wasn't that I didn't understand what he meant, because seeing him there that night had a similar effect on me. I just didn't know why he bothered to call me and invite me for a private chat about it.

"Look, you know my family history. You know I have responsibilities. If I didn't marry and have children, the family line would end with me. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let the fact that my parents died before they could have more children mean that I would be the last Lord Potter. I owed it to them," he justified.

I was proud that I managed to hold back my contemptuous snort. We'd had this discussion countless times. Almost from the moment we'd met I knew how heavily this legacy obligation weighed on him. For a while, I tried to convince him that the whole concept of English Aristocracy was ridiculously antiquated and that, were they alive, his parents would probably want him to give it all up anyway. At least they would have if they loved him at all and valued his happiness above all else. But of course his parents were dead, and I was just speculating, making me easy to ignore. Eventually I gave up and just tried to avoid the subject. I may have even convinced myself that despite all the talk, he'd never be able to actually follow his ideas through to their natural conclusion, which would involve leaving me and marrying someone who would give him natural, legitimate heirs. And that worked fine, until he announced his engagement, when denial was no longer a viable option.

"I thought Ginny was a good choice for a spouse," H. continued, obviously unaware of the turmoil inside my head. "I've known Ron and his family for ages. They may as well have been my family already. Ginny and I had always been friendly, and I knew if she didn't marry me she risked her family pushing her into another "suitable" marriage, probably with some bloke she didn't care for. I thought we could just get married and do what we needed to ensure heirs and otherwise have everything stay the same."

"And it didn't?" I tried so hard to keep the bitter hopefulness from my voice. It was wrong to want him to be miserable in his marriage, but wrong or right, it was the way I felt.

He shook his head and drank more.

"Fuck no. I didn't realize it, and I swear I did nothing to encourage it, but I think somewhere along the way she got it into her head that we were a love match. Or at least she decided that she loved me and figured I had to love her to have asked her to marry me."

"It's not such an outrageous conclusion, is it? I mean, that's usually why people get married."

"Yes, but she and I had talked about family obligations and roles we were supposed to play even if we didn't want to. I thought she understood." H. clenched his fist in frustration. This too was familiar, and again I had to hold back from reaching over and massaging it open to help him release the tension.

"She might have understood better if you'd told her you were gay," I pointed out quietly.

"Don't be ridiculous," he bristled. "How could I tell her that? She would have never married me if I told her. Not only that, but she might have told Ron and her mother and then everyone would know."

I was silent. For him, everyone knowing he was gay was a fate worse than death. His attitude had been the source of problems between us since we started uni. All of us had kept quiet about our sexual preferences willingly enough at boarding school, if for no other reason than it made getting together with our boyfriends a hell of a lot easier. But once we graduated, we all decided to stop hiding. There were no outing ceremonies, per se, but Dré and Vince went to talk to Dré's parents and explained exactly why Vince would be living with Dré at Uni even though he decided to go into the trades. And while Greg didn't have anyone to bring home to his parents, he too let them know that there were no daughter-in-laws in their future. I was the only one who hesitated, not because I feared my parents' reaction, but out of deference to the wishes of the man I loved. H. didn't expressly decree that I had to stay in the closet, but he let me know that if I decided to be out and open about my sexuality it would mean he would no longer be able to keep living with me or associating with me on any regular basis. So I stayed quiet. I never denied anything and I didn't try to pass as straight, but I didn't wear rainbow shirts either. I loved him, and being with him was always more important to me than what other people thought. I just wished it had been the same for him.

"You're so quiet. What are you thinking about?" his voice broke into my musings just as he placed his hand on my thigh and gently squeezed. I stared at his hand, his touch at once familiar and foreign.

"You don't really want to know what I'm thinking," I said, deliberately keeping my voice even and unemotional. "You never did. You told me you needed to talk so I'm here to listen, but don't ask me for more than that. I'm not going to humor you and tell you I understand or feel sorry for you. And I have no advice that you'd be willing to take. In fact, I still don't really know what I'm doing here at all." I tipped my glass back and drained it, extremely aware of the heat from his hand spreading over my thigh.

"You're right. I'm sorry. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. I'm just grateful you're here. I need you to know some things. Things I can't tell anyone else." He noticed my empty glass and took his hand off my thigh to retrieve it. "Let me get you another drink," he offered and got up without waiting for my answer. I sat, paralyzed, knowing I should go but unable to move. I looked down at my leg. His hand was gone, but the memory of his touch remained.

"I thought I could do it, you know? I thought if she and I could just be friends, ease into the whole marriage, I might get used to it. I knew it would never be anything like what we had. I mean, how could it?" he spoke as he poured my drink and came back to hand it to me. "But I still thought it might be bearable. I'd given up all hopes of happiness, but I suppose I deluded myself into thinking that she and I might reach some sort of an accord. A content companionship, if you will."

He sat down beside me again and sighed. He pulled his glasses off, set them aside on the arm of the sofa and rubbed the bridge of his nose absently for a moment before reaching for and replacing the glasses.

"Ginny's younger than us. She doesn't strike me as someone who was ready for contentment," I commented.

"No, she definitely wasn't and isn't, even now. I should have realized when she started planning the wedding. You would have thought we were fucking William and Kate."

"It was pretty elaborate, I guess," I thought back to that day, trying to remember anything beyond the pain of his total and utter rejection. I shook my head when no recollections came. During the ceremony I'd zoned out completely, and at the reception I'd been far too pissed to notice any of the details.

"It was a fucking circus, but I didn't say anything because I figured she'd get it all out of her system. Little did I know that was just the beginning. Of course my flat wasn't at a good enough address for her and we couldn't very well live in Berkley castle so I had to buy the house in Belgravia and the furnishings and a new wardrobe for both of us so we could attend all the events she was now getting invited to as Lady Potter. And even all that wasn't good enough. I was willing to give her anything she wanted financially, but that wasn't good enough. She wanted my time, and not just publicly. And Rick, I tried. You don't know how fucking hard I tried. I'd be in bed with her and I'd close my eyes and imagine you were there with me. Let me tell you, it took no small amount of effort to ignore her smell and the softness and the high tinny voice. Everything about her is wrong," he complained as he drained his glass again.

"Well, yeah, H. She's a woman and that's never been who you wanted in bed. But that's hardly her fault," I pointed out with what might have been a little bit of malice. I didn't want to feel sorry for him and, fortunately, nothing he'd said so far had me leaning in that direction.

"I know!" he nearly shouted, clearly exasperated. "I know it's not her fault. I know it's all my fault, always has been. I know that!" He stood up and began pacing.

"Do you think there's a day that goes by when I don't wake up and go to sleep remembering that I created the situation I'm in?" He paused and set his glass on the fireplace mantle, leaning heavily against it. "Do you think there's a moment in a day that I don't wish I could be with you instead of her?"

For a brief moment I fell for it and nearly stood up to comfort him, but then I realized that he was manipulating me. I stood up as well, reaching down to pick up my briefcase.

"Yeah, H., I do. I think you have lots of days and moments exactly like that. Didn't you just tell me earlier that seeing me was like a bucket of cold water waking you up to what you'd been missing? Obviously before that night you'd managed to forget about me just fine.

"Look, I get that you're unhappy. I don't even want to imagine how I'd feel married to a woman. But I see that you're just looking for sympathy and I have little of that to spare under the circumstances," I pulled the briefcase strap over my shoulder and turned for the door. "I'm just not the right confidant for you, H. I wish I was, but after everything that happened between us you can't just expect me to..."

When he saw that I was about to leave he pushed himself off the mantle and launched himself at me. I was taller, but he'd always been stronger, so when he stepped up to me and placed his hand on the back of my head to pull it down, I was helpless to resist. And I wanted to resist. Or, rather, I should have wanted to resist. Had I had a moment to think I probably would have resisted. As it was, I was just helplessly lost in his searing kiss.

It was the same as every other time he'd ever kissed me in the past: everything else automatically faded into the background and lost its importance. After being apart for so long, this kiss was incredibly potent. Our mouths melded together and our tongues sought each other out, desperate to reunite. Desire and need surged through me like an electric current as he held me captive with his hand and his lips. In the back of my head a voice tried to remind me that this was wrong, that it shouldn't be happening, but I closed my eyes and mind completely and let feelings take over.

He never broke the kiss, so I barely noticed that he'd slipped the briefcase off my shoulder and back to the floor, or that he manoeuvred me next to the bed. It just felt so good to be in his arms, to taste him on my tongue and have his familiar scent fill my nostrils. There wasn't a force on earth powerful enough to distract me from him or help me resist him. Especially when I didn't really want to resist, and instead hoped he would tear off my clothes, push me onto the bed, and make love to me the way only he knew how, until I was no longer connected to the earth but was having a full-blown out of body experience. There was no one other than him who could ever do that to me and I was craving it the way a starving man craves crumbs.

"I have missed you, Ced, every fucking day. I missed you so much it hurt. I could bear it, just, as long as I didn't see you, but after Saturday I couldn't handle it anymore," he whispered into my ear after kissing his way there across my face, holding my head down with his left hand as the fingers of his right worked quickly and urgently to loosen and rip off my tie and unbutton my shirt. "You're all I've been thinking about since then. I couldn't concentrate at work, couldn't even pretend to be interested in Ginny. She was so pissed with me she kicked me out of the bedroom and I nearly cried with relief because I didn't have to be next to her anymore and I could get a small measure of temporary relief thinking about you without being interrupted and without any complaints. I called you to hear your voice and I went by your work to get another glimpse of you," he continued whispering as pulled my shirt out of my trousers and pushed it along with my jacket off me.

"So that was really you?" I asked weakly, resting my forehead on his shoulder. "I thought I was imagining things."

"I didn't want you to be angry. I had to see you, but I was afraid if I tried to talk to you, you'd turn me away, and that would have killed me." He fastened his lips to my neck, administering small kisses and pausing briefly to suck on my Adam's apple before following down to my left collar bone and covering it with feverish kisses as well. He reached up to tweak my left nipple as his mouth closed over the right, causing me to whimper with need.

Desperate to feel his skin against mine, I reached for his shirt and unfastened the buttons. I only got halfway before he protested.

"No, Ced. You first. Need you so fucking bad."

He reached for my waist and unbuckled the belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers, pushing them down to my thighs. He wrapped his hands around me, slipping them inside my underpants to cover my arse and pull me into him. We groaned in unison. I knew he was feeling the same thing I was, marvelling at how well we still fit together, after all that time. How natural this felt. Like we'd never been apart.

"I love you, Ced," he spoke into my ear in that raspy voice that always drove me to distraction. "I've never loved anyone but you, and I never will."

Until that moment I hadn't known it was possible to melt and grow harder at the same time, but that's exactly what his words did to me. I stopped thinking, my body driven entirely by the aching need to be with him again. I didn't even try to resist as he walk-pushed me back until the backs of my thighs hit the overstuffed mattress and I fell on the bed. H. made quick work of pushing my underpants down my thighs to bunch up with my trousers as he lowered his head and ran his tongue broadly along the entire length of my hard shaft. I whimpered and he groaned again.

"I've missed your cock so fucking much. You taste so good. You smell," he buried his nose in the crease of my thigh and inhaled, "so good! I've been dreaming about this, Rick, especially this past week. Dreaming what it would be like to have you in my mouth again."

I lifted my head to look at him, about to beg him to stop talking and suck me, but he beat me to it. In an instant his lips closed around my completely exposed head, his tongue circling the ridge of the helmet. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes, lost in some confluence of past and present. His mouth on me felt like no other, and as he took me in deeper and deeper, with absolutely no hesitation, hitting the back of his throat signaled a homecoming. I kept my hips still, the way I knew he liked, moaning softly as he took the lead, bobbing at a comfortable pace. My body responded to his skill the way it always had, tension and ecstasy slowly building in intensity. I moved my head back and forth, guttural moans falling from my lips as he patiently ratcheted up my state of arousal. I grasped the duvet with both hands, knowing he didn't like to be touched while he was going down on me. I didn't mind. The bedding anchored me in the room, where otherwise I might have felt myself floating away on the physical high he was so good at inducing.

I tried to spread my legs wide, but was hampered by the trousers and underpants that were still bunched up around my thighs. H. noticed and pushed both down to my ankles, giving me room to widen my knees. He slipped his hand between my legs and began to fondle my balls even as he continued bobbing on my cock. I moaned louder, my muscles tensing with my will to keep them still.

"H., oh God, please, H., so close!" I was both pleading and warning. I was desperate to come, and desperate to wait. I would be content with whatever decision he made, but I relaxed a little and signed with relief as he pulled off my dick and bent his head to lap at my nuts.

I felt his hands on my legs, puling off my shoes, socks, trousers and underpants. Once I was completely nude, he grabbed my ankles and pushed up my legs, causing them to bend as he exposed my arse.

"Fuck, Ced. What a gorgeous view!"

I had no time to respond before I felt his teeth clamp around the meat of my left arse cheek. I yelped, the pain temporarily lowering the level of my arousal. This too was familiar, and I loved it. H. played my body like a virtuoso, knowing exactly how to bring out a crescendo and decrescendo to form a continuous erotic melody. Even as my cheek smarted, I was already climbing back up from the tongue that travelled into my crease and over my opening. I groaned with satisfaction when I felt him press his tongue into me, past the ring of muscle that welcomed him like no other.

"Yeah, H., fuck me with your tongue. Get me ready for your cock. I need to feel you inside me," I encouraged, though it was wholly unnecessary. What I said didn't matter. I was nothing but a lump of clay in his hands, ready to be shaped and molded into whatever he wanted, and to enjoy every moment of it.

His tongue was still deep in my hole, when I felt him moving between my legs and surmised that he was taking of his clothes. The thought of him naked made me even harder. I'd always loved his body, his warm skin, just a shade darker than my own and looking so good against me. I closed my eyes and pictured his thick cock, hard and ready to fuck me. I felt moisture wicking from my engorged head onto my stomach.

"I need you!" I repeated helplessly. In that moment, I would have done anything to feel him inside me.

"Soon," he assured as he pulled away from my arse. I whined a complaint, but his meaty tongue was soon replaced by a saliva coated finger that I accepted easily and without pain. The first finger was soon joined by another, which reached to the magic spot inside me and began to massage just as he grabbed my cock with the other hand and began to stroke.

"H., fuck!" I flexed my hips, knowing this was permitted when he was just using his hands. He continued to stroke and rub, bringing me right up to the edge again.

"I wish you could see yourself right now," he whispered harshly. "So fucking wanton and gorgeous. You ready for me, Ced?"

"Yes," I moaned. "Always."

He pulled his fingers out and let me go. Before I could open my eyes he grasped my hips with both hands and roughly flipped me over on the bed, so that I was lying face down, resting on the bed from the waist up, my legs braced on the floor. "Stay there and think about how good my cock will feel inside you," he ordered. I heard him walk away and grew ever harder with anticipation. I spread out my legs, widening my stance for additional support. I brought my hands up and crossed them in front of me, resting my forehead on my forearms, waiting for his return, listening to the familiar sound of a condom wrapper being torn open. I imagined him rolling the condom on, wishing I was allowed to do it for him, but I knew better than to move when ordered not to. H. liked to lead, and I loved it when he took charge.

I felt him come up behind me, and winced slightly as I felt a sharp slap on my cheek. He immediately rubbed the pain away, making me purr in response.

"This must be the most beautiful arse in all of England," he said hoarsely. "I can't wait to slip inside."

I heard the top of a lube bottle being snapped open and then felt the cool liquid dripping between my cheeks, followed by his warm hand spreading it out and pushing it into my hole to slick up my tunnel. I desperately wanted to touch myself, but I was so close to the brink I didn't trust myself not to get me close enough to come as soon as I felt him filling me up. The anticipation was delicious torture. I felt the lube bottle land on the bed beside me. I felt him grasp my cheeks and part them, felt his cock line up with my hole and rub against it on the outside, teasing. I moaned but stayed still, content to let him decide what to do and when. He dug his fingers into my cheeks, massaging them as he slid his thick cock up and down inside my crack.

"You're so perfect, Ced. So still and patient. Don't move, but tell me what you want!" he commanded.

I replied without hesitation, "I want you to fuck me hard and deep until I can feel you coming inside me. Please!"

"Because you asked so nicely, and because you're so fucking irresistible," he explained as he lined up again and pushed the head of his cock into my opening.

It was sheer bliss to feel him inside me after all this time. Nothing else compared. Even the slight pain and burn of my arse stretching to accommodate his girth was heaven. He was slow and steady, and I could imagine the concentration on his face as he controlled his movement so as not to cause me any undue pain. We both liked it when he fucked me roughly, completely letting go, but he never did that until I was ready.

He pumped his hips in short thrusts, barely pulling out only to push further in until I felt his balls hit mine when he was fully sheathed inside me. He leaned over me, kissing my back and caressing my hip and thigh with one hand as he reached around to stroke my cock with the other.

"You feel so incredible, Ced. So tight! I wish I could stay inside you like this forever!"

"Me too, Al. Me too."

"Oh," he exclaimed, and then lightly bit my back at the shoulder blade. "I've missed that. I love when you call me that."

I turned my head to look back at him and he leaned forward to claim my lips. He kissed me hungrily, his tongue invading and exploring my mouth. I arched my back and began to move my hips in an attempt to thrust into his stroking hand, the small movement causing his hard cock to press harder against my prostate.

"What are you trying to do, Ced?" he asked with a smirk, breaking the kiss. "Are you trying to take over, top from the bottom?"

I shook my head. "Move, Al," I pleaded. "Fuck me hard. Let me feel every inch of you."

He didn't respond verbally, just straightened behind me and dug his fingers into my hips, holding me steady. I rested my forehead on my arms again and took deep breaths, willing myself to relax as I felt him pull nearly all the way out. Then he slammed all the way in with one hard, fast jab, and stars exploded behind my closed eyelids. He began fucking me in earnest. hard and deep, just like I asked, just like I loved. The mild pain and discomfort was subsumed in the pleasure of our primal lovemaking. In my mind, I was taken right back to the first time it had been like this.

When we first got together, my only prior experience had been with Greg, who'd always taken such care to be gentle and did everything to avoid causing any discomfort, though given the girth of his cock that was hardly possible. H. was still a virgin, and didn't even know if he preferred to top or bottom. The first time H. and I made love was also the last time I topped him. It had been sweet and loving, but though we didn't have the courage to admit it at the time, neither of us was perfectly satisfied. He took me the second time, but in mimicking my care and tenderness, he accomplished little more than I had our first. It was the third time we were together, make up sex after a stupid argument, that he took control and fucked me in a way that transcended our combined homosexual experiences to date. We were in the supply closet in the basement of our boarding school, both of us on our feet, me leaning on a shelf filled with solvents and cleaning supplies, my nostrils filled with the scent of ammonia and turpentine. That's where we discovered how truly well suited we were. Ever since, one whiff of those scents took me right back to the moment, and I had to train myself not to get hard around cleaning products.

There were no smells to get me going in the hotel room, but they were hardly necessary. Feeling H. pounding me from behind, his hard cock sliding smoothly deep inside me, took me to paradise. It was completely overwhelming, especially as he sped up, thrusting faster and faster. I heard my whimpers mix with his grunts as our flesh slapped together. The air was filled with the musky scent of sex, undoubtedly enhanced with the precum that was liberally leaking onto the carpet from my aching cock. I was getting close, pleading incoherently for release, when I felt him grab my hair and roughly pull my head back. I arched my back, and cried out when I felt his hand wrap around my dick again, knowing it wouldn't be long. My body was slick with sweat and I could feel his sweat dripping from his face onto my arse.

"I love you, Ced," he called out. "I fucking love you so much. Come for me! Show me what I do to you."

I'd already been on the brink and would have probably come even if he'd said nothing, but hearing him profess his love I was hurtled into an intense orgasm that shook my whole body even as he continued to thrust into me, seeking his own release. My cock pulsed in his hand as jets of cum coated the hotel carpet beneath me. Then I heard his singular groan in conjunctions with one last push, and I felt him coming inside me.

I stood as still as I could on legs shaking with muscle fatigue, as he pumped his hips a few more times. He'd released my dick and was back to grasping my hips, this time, however, more to keep himself steady and upright. Finally, with obvious reluctance, he reached to keep the condom in place as he pulled out. Moving to my side, he threw himself on the bed beside me, reaching to pull me up alongside him so that we were both lying down fully. Fortunately, the king size bed was large enough to accommodate most of our bodies even width-wise.

"I didn't think being with you could be any better than my memories," he said softly as he stroked my hair, almost as if he was talking to himself, "but this was more incredible than any memory."

I shifted to rest on his chest, pressing my lips against his skin, now salty with sweat. "You're an incredible lover, H. You always have been."

I looked down, noting his condom was still on. I reached down and pulled it off, tying it up and tossing it carelessly to the floor. Then I dipped my head and took his still semi-hard cock into my mouth, slurping up the cum that clung to his skin and slit, relishing his loud, satisfied sigh. It was these moments of bliss, both mid and post coital, that had made all the other shit I'd gone through with him worthwhile. If only they could have lasted longer.

Determined to stretch this one out for as long as I could, I moved to once again lie beside him. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his side. I threw my bent leg over his and entwined us together, pressing my face and nose into his neck. Completely sated and exhausted, we both fell asleep.