Chapter 1

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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.