Chapter 11

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Chapter 11: Weakness

I was so calm and collected after Kinkaid left, it was a bit disconcerting. I reasoned that just wasn't natural and expected a wave of emotion to wash over me at some inappropriate point in the future instead of right then, when I was alone and in the perfect position to wallow, take care of it, and put it all behind me. I might have been able to accept numbness, but that's not what I was experiencing. Instead, what I felt was a cold, clinical acceptance. I had been in love with a man who lied to me and betrayed me and was now out of my life because I refused to allow him to continue to treat me that way. That act of standing up for myself should have given me some satisfaction, but it did not. I stood up for myself before with a lover who betrayed me, so this wasn't anything new. It felt as routine as brushing my teeth, and just about as evocative. It wasn't anything to feel anything about.

After a few hours of mindlessly watching television, I became concerned enough to reach out to Greg. It was getting late, so I texted instead of calling, on the off chance that he was already sleeping or otherwise occupied with Viktor. He called me back immediately, though, and I filled him in on what happened, leaving nothing out. Greg didn't say much, which was unusual, something even he admitted when I called him out on it after I was done with my story.

"I really don't know what to say, Rick," he relayed contritely. "I think deep down Kinkaid is a man who desperately wants to do the right thing, but for various reasons feels that he can't. After speaking with him earlier, I have no doubt that he loves you."

That comment earned him an angry hiss.

"I'm not defending him, Rick," Greg explained. "Nor do I think you did the wrong thing by sending him away. I'm just stating facts, as I see them. He certainly didn't do what he did out of love for you. He did it despite loving you. And for that he deserves to suffer the consequences, just like you did with Jasper."

I'd already made the Jasper connection, so Greg repeating it wasn't too painful, except that it made me remember how calm Jasper had been when he broke it off with me, which made me feel a little better about my own reaction.

"I suppose," I theorized, "Kinkaid and I weren't meant to be together any more than Jasper and I were. Sometimes love isn't enough. At least not when it isn't the right kind of love."

I returned to London the following day, but despite their entreaties, did not get together with the guys. Although I'd listened to the voice-mail where Dré apologized for the assumptions he made when he first saw the article, I wasn't ready to forgive him or even see him. Viktor hadn't tried to reach me at all, and the way Greg always steered the conversation away from his partner let me know his feelings about me hadn't changed. Having no desire whatsoever to see two of the four men who used to be my closest friends, I decided staying home alone was a better option. An option I exercised over and over for several weeks.

Greg was worried about me and never hesitated to tell me so during our frequent phone calls and occasional lunches, but I brushed him off rather easily. Surprisingly, it was more difficult to dismiss Vince, who didn't bother calling and just waited on my doorstep one evening when I got home from work. Before we even went in, he pulled me into a long, tight, comforting hug that was usually reserved only for Dré.

"We miss you, Rick, and you're not doing anybody any favors by shutting yourself off like this," he told me in his calm, quiet way.

"I'm not shutting myself off," I protested. "I see Greg often. I just haven't felt like going drinking with the group."

Vince gave me a look that made it clear he knew I was lying.

"I'm tired of being the fifth wheel, Vince. I'm also tired of Viktor's disapproval, Dré's scorn and your and Greg's pity. I need a break."

Vince protested and he didn't give up easily, but when I firmly stood my ground and countered all his arguments, he finally relented. "Just don't be a stranger forever," he admonished. "No matter what you think, it's not the same without you and we would all like to have you back."

"That's nice of you to say, mate," I told him with a clap on the back. "I appreciate it."

I'd been completely honest with Vince, which didn't necessarily make getting over what happened with Kinkaid any easier. After news of his "relationship" with Colin leaked out, every newspaper started digging for dirt and printing speculative articles. It was exactly what Kinkaid had been afraid of, and I still cared for him enough to feel bad that his prediction had come true, but seeing all the photos and articles about him and his "partner" was hell for me too. It was as bad as the news coverage of H. and Ginny's wedding.

Thinking about H. always made me wince. Throughout the time Kinkaid and I had been seeing each other, H. did not give up his quest to get me in bed again. The gifts kept coming. Food, books, music, tickets to various shows and exhibits. They were infrequent enough that often I thought he'd finally grown tired of my rejections, but then something else would show up, shattering my illusion. I often debated calling him and asking him to stop, but then I remembered that would be giving him what he wanted - contact with me. Annoying as the gifts were, it made more sense to ignore them.

Then, a couple of weeks after my return to London, I received an envelope with a ticket for a concert at the Royal Albert Hall. This particular Swedish singer had been on hiatus and was now touring to support her latest album. She had been a favorite of mine for years, something H. knew quite well. I'd tried to purchase tickets to the concert previously, but it had been sold out, so when I pulled the ticket out of the envelope the temptation to use it was overwhelming. I quickly shoved it back in and set it aside, but unlike all the other gifts, which I'd managed to successfully ignore, this one gave off an irresistible siren's call. Every day when I came home from work I would take out the ticket and look at it, sometimes just getting a glimpse before hastily hiding it away, sometimes holding it in my hand for a quarter of an hour, studying the information as if memorizing it made a difference between life and death. As the date of the concert approached, I became more and more anxious. I knew it would be wrong to go. Nothing said that better than the fact that I'd told no one about the ticket, not even Greg. Still, the closer the concert, the more tempted I became. On the day of the show I came home, took out the ticket, and made the decision to go. It would be unconscionable to waste this opportunity, I rationalized. Besides, I doubted H. would actually go to an event like this, where he would have to be seen with me in public. At best, he might camp out outside the hall entrance, hoping to catch me on my way in and talk me into following him somewhere more private either to have a discussion or just to fuck. All I had to do was be vigilant and avoid him, or threaten to make a scene, and get inside the hall. I guessed once I was inside the building, I would be safe.

The Royal Albert Hall was within easy walking distance of my flat, so I set out pretty close to the start time, wanting to have a good excuse to hurry inside. As I approached the building I became watchful. When I didn't see him anywhere, I sighed with a mixture of relief and disappointment. I decided he must have assumed that I wouldn't show and didn't even bother to come. The ticket had been an empty lure. I felt stupid for all the agitation it caused me and also somewhat down that apparently getting together with me was even lower on his list of priorities than I previously thought. In a sour mood, but determined to make the best of the situation and enjoy the concert, I made my way to my seat. I found my row and made excuses as I squeezed past those already seated. When I reached the empty chair I turned and stood stock still out of sheer shock when I found myself face to face with H.

Paralyzed, I had no idea what to do or say. I never, ever expected him to actually be inside the hall. Now that he was here, I didn't know what to do. We stared at each other transfixed, the surprise on his face echoing mine. Finally he moved, taking a small, tentative step towards me.

"You came," he said so quietly that the murmur of the crowd drowned out the actual sound, though I could clearly read his lips. "Thank you!"

"You're here," I said in wonderment and looked around at the surrounding crowd. This event was everything he had always hated, a public concert where adrenaline and excitement would run high, creating ample opportunity for one of us to slip and reveal the true nature of our relationship. A place where anyone could spot us and speculate about whether I was merely H's gay school chum or more. I came close to pinching myself to make sure this wasn't merely a dream.

"I'd almost given up hope," he moved his lips again, taking another small step towards me. It was a testament to how well I knew him and how closely I was watching those full ripe lips that I could figure out what he was saying. I looked into his eyes and the hope and longing there released the same emotions within me. Everything I'd worked so hard to repress for months was suddenly flooding through me and I was helpless to stop it, just as I was helpless to stop myself from stepping into his open arms and accepting his warm, tight embrace. We said nothing, and to anyone watching it probably looked like a friendly hello hug, but H. and I both knew it meant infinitely more than that. For me, at least, his arms always felt like home.

Predictably, we didn't linger in the hug, H. stepping back much too quickly. This time, though, there was apology and regret in his eyes, as well as a plea for understanding. And this time I didn't have it in me to get angry, knowing how big of a step he had already taken by waiting here for me.

"Thanks for the ticket," I said as we sat down. "You remembered."

"You're welcome. I wasn't sure if it would be enough."

I nodded, knowing most of what we needed to say had to remain unspoken and that we both had to fill in a lot of blanks.

"I didn't think you'd be here," I confessed, looking around pointedly.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he replied, his face and body filled with tension. "Had you known I'd be here, you wouldn't have come, would you?"

"No," I told him honestly, shaking my head.

"Do you regret it?" he asked with trepidation.

I took a long moment to consider his question and my feelings. Finally, I shook my head again. "No, and not just because I really want to see the concert. It is good to see you. I've missed you."

I was as surprised with my admission as he looked, and as happy to see his face brighten. He looked like he was going to say something, but just then the concert began, and the increased crowd noise distracted him. We both looked towards the stage in a silent accord to continue the discussion later.

I enjoyed the concert far more than I thought possible. Just being there next to him, being able to exchange a look or a smile, made the performance so much more meaningful. I didn't even care that I couldn't reach over to grab his hand or pull him into my arms. Being out in public with him like this was miracle enough. Things got awkward, however, when the concert was over and we followed the crowd out of the hall. While inside, I hadn't given any thought to what would happen later. In the back of my head I knew, of course, that H.'s ultimate goal was to get me to sleep with him again, but I was enjoying the moment too much to dwell or consider what I wanted to do about it. Now, as we stood a stone's throw from the venue but out of earshot of most of the concert goers, we still didn't speak, just alternated between looking at each other and looking away. It was like a strange version of an eye dance, and would have been quite comical if we had been observers instead of participants.

"Earlier, when we were inside, you said you missed me," H. said when he finally understood that I was not going to begin a conversation. "I hope you meant it, because I've missed you too. I can't even put into words how much."

I nodded.

"I have missed you. I suppose a part of me will always miss you," I admitted. "But I know better than to think there will ever be anything between us now."

I watched him scan the surrounding area nervously, terrified that I'd been overheard. I took a deep breath and sighed, the earlier high from the concert wearing off, doused by a heavy measure of reality.

"Thanks for the ticket," I said, suddenly needing to get away from him and the reminder that his fears were always going to stand in our way. "I'll see you around, maybe."

Without waiting for him to respond, I turned and started to walk back to my flat.

"Wait!" he grabbed my shoulder. "I was hoping we could talk, somewhere more private?"

"What did you have in mind, H.?

"The Milestone Hotel is close. Maybe..."

I shook my head in disbelief. He still didn't get it. "I fell for that once, I'm not stupid enough to do it again. We both know what will happen if we go to the Milestone and there'll be very little talking involved. I'm not going to be the guy you meet at a convenient hotel when you need to scratch your itch."

His eyes widened in alarm and he looked around fearfully, calming a little when he saw no one had been close enough to hear.

"That wasn't what I meant," he said earnestly. I merely arched my brow in disbelief.

"Let's go to yours, then. We'll talk, and if you want me to leave, I'll leave."

I considered his offer. I knew regardless of where we were, just being with him would make me weak, but I would be stronger at my place than anywhere else.

"Yeah, alright," I agreed. "Come on, then."

We walked back in silence. When we were finally safely in the privacy of my flat I mixed us both a drink and we sat down on the sofa, close but not quite close enough for our thighs to touch. I took a swallow of my drink and watched him do the same.

"Now would be a good time to start talking," I said as he procrastinated. His glasses slipped down his nose as he studied his drink and I had to resist the urge to push them back up. Touching him, even innocently, was not a good idea.

"I know I have no right to ask this, but after spending that afternoon together I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he finally said quietly, his eyes still trained on the glass in his hand. "I know what I'm doing is wrong and that what I'm asking of you is wrong, and too much, but I have to ask, beg," with that last word he finally looked up, pushing back his glasses at the same time in a familiar, subconscious move. "Please, Ced, I need to see you, spend time with you. It can't be often, especially now that..." he paused and looked away again, chagrined.

I took a deep breath. For reasons I could not explain, I wasn't nearly as shocked by his proposition as I should have been, or as revolted. Maybe because he'd made it once before, so I knew he'd suggest the same again and had a chance to get used to the idea? "It's still the same, right, H? You have no plans to ask Ginny for a divorce. You want to stay married to her and for me to be the bit on the side?"

He looked back at me, his expression pained by the undeniable truth of my statement.

"I can't divorce Ginny," he confirmed. "And I can't tell her or anyone else about us, but you would never be just the bit on the side. You are and have always been the only man I ever loved, the only man in my life. It kills me that I'll never be the man you deserve; that I'll never be able to give you the kind of life you should have; and that I'm asking you to do something like this, something that so obviously goes against your core beliefs. But this is the only thing I have, the only way I can be with you, and I love and need you too much not to ask. Please, Ced, say yes. Tell me you'll see me again."

My head should have been clear. It was obvious what my answer should be. And yet my thoughts were swimming with confusion. I wanted to be strong enough to say no, just like I had when he called me, just like I had when Kinkaid came to see me, but the words wouldn't leave my mouth. Neither could I tell him yes. I could feel his hope and expectation crackling between us like static electricity, but I couldn't make a decision. The only thing I knew in that moment, as I looked at him sitting in my apartment, was that my desire for him was as strong as it had ever been. He was offering me a future I couldn't and didn't want to imagine, but I didn't have to accept that future in order to be with him one last time. He had already betrayed his vows to Ginny with me once and was perfectly willing to continue to do so, while I was no longer committed to anyone. I could take this one night and figure out the rest later, when he was gone, when my head was clearer and I could gather and organize my thoughts.

Wordlessly, I set aside my drink. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and followed my lead, placing his glass on the side table as well. I rose and held out my hand, which he took and used to stand up next to me. Still without speaking, I led him to the bedroom, where I stepped up close to him and slipped my hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, tracing his taut abs with my fingertips.

"This isn't an answer," I told him. "It's just tonight, all right?"

I captured his eyes, waiting for an acknowledgement. He nodded slowly.

"It may be the last time," I tried making myself very clear. "If that's the case, are you sure...?"

"I'm sure!" he reached up and caught my face in his hands. "I love you. I'll take anything you're willing to give me."

It was useless to fight the riptide of desire that swept me up in its torrent and pulled us together with a force no human being would be able to resist. He caught my lips with his and his warm, sweet flavor flooded my senses, washing away any rational thought or objection. The initial soft pressure strengthened and his tongue snaked into my mouth as he continued to hold my head, preventing me from moving or pulling away, but in a way that expressed his need and desperation. We were both possessed and possessor, a throwback to the very beginning of our relationship when we were guided purely by hormones and instinct, oblivious to the politics of the world around us.

Unlike our last encounter, this wasn't rushed or frantic. We kissed for a long time, thoroughly exploring each other, pulling apart only long enough to shed our shirts. It wasn't quite like our first time, but my reminder that it could very well be our last caused us to take our time and savor every kiss, touch, lick and bite. This wasn't what sex between us typically looked like. Usually it was hot, hard and fast, and we both loved it that way. Yet somehow this night the slow and far more gentle than normal exploration felt exactly right.

We peeled off our shoes, socks and jeans and fell onto the bed. H. rolled me onto my back and moved over me. Up until then we had both been exploring each other, but this was where he took charge, pinning me to my bed and leaving me helpless as he worshipped my entire body, inch by inch. He whispered as he spoke, and straining to hear what he was saying made it easier for me to keep still. The low sound of his voice was soothing, and soon I was melting under his masterful mouth and fingers, turning into a pliable mass, his to do with as he wished.

"You're so beautiful, Ced. Fucking perfect, every bit. I think about you all the time. The heat of your skin, your scent, lingering everywhere but so concentrated right here," he spoke as he stuck his nose beneath my balls and inhaled deeply. "I fantasize about you every night. The way you feel, the way you smell, the way you taste. Nothing and no one could ever compare to you, Ced."

He nuzzled my balls and then sucked them, one by one, before moving on to my cock. He knew exactly what to do to make me feel good and keep me right at the edge, taking his time and ignoring my increasingly incoherent pleas for more. I nearly cried in relief when he grasped my hips and flipped me onto my stomach, but I should have known it would only be to continue his exploration of the other side of my body. He lay on top of me as he covered my back with licks and kisses. When I began grinding into the bed he moved off me and pulled my hips up, eliminating any possibility of friction against my aching, dripping cock. I whined in protest until I felt his strong hands parting my arse cheeks followed by his wet tongue slipping along my crack to encircle the sensitive skin around my hole. I moved my hands up to grip the headboard and tried to use the leverage to push back, hoping to force him to breach the barrier, but he held fast onto my hips, keeping me in place, so I merely succeeded in arching my back.

"Please, Al, please, fuck me, I need to come," I whimpered. He didn't reply, merely lapped and sucked at my opening before finally, finally!, penetrating me with his tongue. I cried out in relief, but it was only temporary. Soon even this was not enough.

As if sensing my frustration, H. pulled back and reached over to the nightstand where I'd always kept the lube and condoms. Knowing he was bigger than I was, for a moment I was glad that I had some larger size condoms left over from Kinkaid, then immediately panicked about how to explain their presence. Fortunately, if H. noticed anything unusual, he didn't ask or comment. He just used the lube to prepare me, quickly but thoroughly. When I started begging him again he pulled back. I heard him stretching the latex sleeve over himself, and then felt his magnificent knob gliding along my slicked crack. I turned back to look at him, my eyes hazy with desire. He pulled back slightly and held himself proudly for inspection with just his thumb and forefinger encircling the base of his stalk. I felt my mouth fill with saliva and my tongue slid out to moisten my lips. I knew how good he would feel inside me, and I wanted it desperately, but looking at that amazing cock I was also reminded of how long it had been since I sucked him off. I was torn - unsure of what I wanted more.

As always, H. made up my mind for me by parting my cheeks and slowly pushing his cock inside me. Although it was uncomfortable, I twisted back as far as possible to watch him. I couldn't see his cock, of course, but feeling him fill me up as I watched his body move forward until his pelvis was flush against my arse was more than erotic enough.

"Face forward and just feel," he ordered and I quickly obeyed. He was right, of course. Without the distracting body contortions I could feel more. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation of his cock pumping in and out of me in a slow, steady rhythm. He moved his hands to grip the tops of my shoulders and use them for leverage to push himself even deeper into me. It felt incredible, and my hard as a rock, unattended dick throbbed for attention. As soon as I took my right hand off the headboard, however, H. stopped me with a commanding "No!"

He pulled out of me and I stayed in place, waiting for his next missive. I felt his cock rest in the crack of my arse as he leaned over me so that I could feel his hot breath on my ear.

"You're mine tonight. Only I get to touch you," he announced. I let out a small groan of protest, but silenced it immediately, knowing whatever he had in mind, I would not be disappointed. The one and only place H. never disappointed me was in bed.

"Turn over. I want to see your face when you come," he directed. I looked at him in surprise. It's not that we never had sex facing each other, but it certainly wasn't his preferred position. He ignored whatever question was in my eyes by kissing me passionately and pressing himself into my arse in a not so subtle reminder of what I was delaying.

I needed no additional urging. I flattened myself into the mattress beneath him and flipped over so that he was hovering above me. I spread my legs in invitation and waited for him to arrange my body further. He didn't oblige me right away, moving back to sit on his heels and reaching down to fondle my scrotum instead. My testicles were pulled up tight and swollen, demonstrating just how much I needed release.

"Al," I said pleadingly. What he was doing felt good, but it was only prolonging the wait.

His eyes softened. He reached for my left leg and raised it, straightening it as he rested it against his torso. Turning his head, he kissed a path from my calf up to my ankle, and then rested his cheek against my leg. With a small sigh he moved forward on his knees and positioned his cock against my entrance, slowly pushing his way inside.

"I'll never get tired of this," he said quietly, almost reverently. "You're always so tight, yet so welcoming. This is where I belong. Inside you."

"Yes," I breathed and knew he was right. If only he could bring himself to reveal the truth to the world.

He began thrusting faster and more forcefully and my thoughts dissipated again. I hooked my right leg around his hip and, were it not for his earlier admonition, would have moved my right hand to my cock. Since this wasn't an option, I gripped his left thigh with it instead, squeezing tightly as his cock head repeatedly brushed over my prostate.

"Al, I'm almost there," I warned him when I realized that my release was imminent. He placed his left hand on the inside of my thigh and moved his right to my cock, stroking me in time with his thrusts. The combination was too much. I tensed, letting out a choking sound that ceased abruptly as cum spurted from my prick all over my stomach. "Oh, hoh," I panted while he continued to thrust deep and hard, each plunge bringing a fresh squirt of my jizz, over and over, until I began to wonder if I would ever stop coming. Finally the flow ceased, and I lay back gasping for breath. H. did not stop, however. Instead, he moved even faster, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as his thrusts became more erratic.

I watched him, knowing he was about to come, and suddenly I needed to stop him. I moved my right hand form his thigh to his hip and attempted to slow him down. He opened his eyes and looked at me, confused.

"I want to taste you," I told him urgently. "Fuck my mouth, please! Don't waste it."

For a moment he looked undecided as he considered, then he nodded his head once and pulled out, peeling off the condom and tossing it aside before crawling up towards me until his cock was almost at my mouth. I tried to shift my head to wrap my lips around his head, but he moved as well.

"Not so fast. Stick out your tongue," he demanded. I did, and watched with anticipation as he placed the very tip of his cock on top of it. I moved my tongue back and forth experimentally, half expecting him to stop me. When he didn't, I got bolder and swiped my tongue up and through the slit of his cock, tasting his lightly salty precum.

"Enjoying the taste?" he teased, pulling back again.

I nodded. "I want more. I want all of you!"

"I bet you do," he mused. I knew damn well only minutes before he was on the verge of orgasm, but it seemed since then he had developed an iron will. Instead of shoving his fat cock into my mouth, where it belonged, he pushed his hips forward and began moving his dick over my face, leaving a trail of precum on my cheeks, my nose, my eyelids - everywhere except where I wanted him to. All I could do was wet my lips with my tongue and hold my mouth open, waiting for him to fill me. I knew better than to try to be playful and catch his cock before he was ready to give it to me. That would only make him hold back more. I waited with eyes closed, saliva pooling at the thought of finally getting a mouthful of him and his cum. I smelled his tantalizing, musky scent before I felt a drip of precum fall onto my tongue. I wanted to swallow, but doing so would mean having to close my mouth, and I didn't want to do anything to discourage him from choking me with his meat. With every second I grew exponentially ravenous for it.

Without any warning, he shoved his cock in until he hit the back of my throat. I tried to relax to be able to take all of him. He was thick enough for my mouth to have to stretch around him to a point of slight discomfort, and more than long enough to cut off air when he was fully lodged in my mouth. In other words, he was perfect, not just physically, but in technique as well. Regardless of the type of sex we were having, he always knew what I loved and fucked me accordingly. This was no exception.

Knowing his initial thrust was a surprise that didn't enable me to get a lot of air, he pulled back fairly quickly to allow me to breathe. I renewed the oxygen supply to my lungs gratefully, but kept my tongue working around his head, which he'd left in my mouth.

"Ready?" he asked gruffly. "I won’t last long, so this will be hard and fast," he warned. I couldn't answer with his cock in my mouth, so I just gave him my best smile and a look that communicated everything I was feeling. Hard and fast was more than welcome. I opened my mouth wider as he sunk in to the root, but then became alarmed when, instead of a steady pounding, I felt him withdraw completely instead.

"H.?" I asked tentatively, unsure of why he would change his mind.

"The position is awkward," he explained. "Get on your knees and face the headboard."

I scrambled to comply as he rose to his feet on the bed and moved to lean against the wall. My spent cock began to twitch again when I realized what he had in mind. In this position, with the wall behind him for support, he would really be able to deliver on his promise. I swallow hard, barely able to keep up with my watering mouth. When he instructed me to hold on to the headboard, it took me only seconds to comply. He rubbed himself over my face again, but I was no longer frustrated or impatient, just filled with anticipation of what was to come.

"Open," he said, tapping the head of his manhood against my closed lips. I obeyed immediately, taking care to breathe in deeply at the same time. He grasped my head with both hands and pushed himself into my eager mouth, lodging in my throat. Careful not to move too much or too fast, because the last thing I wanted was to send him over the edge too quickly, I welcomed his intrusion by slowly massaging the sensitive underside of his cock with my tongue. He held me there, impaled on his throbbing dick, watching me carefully. I wanted him to stay there forever, so I held out as long as I could, struggling against the instinct to pull back and gasp for air until my eyes filled with moisture from the effort. He moved his head slightly in question and I blinked my answer, gasping for breath when he immediately pulled back.

"All right?" he asked with concern. I blinked again and took a deep breath through my nose. "Let me know if it gets too uncomfortable, yeah?" he asked, and my heart clenched at knowing that even in this heated moment he put my comfort ahead of his own pleasure. I nodded as best I could with my mouth still full of his cock and flicked my tongue against his head to make sure he understood. "Here we go, then," he advised, letting me take one last full, deep breath. Then, still holding my head firmly in place with both hands, he pulled back and thrust forward, fucking my face just like I'd begged him to. True to his promise, his pace increased quickly and then he was fucking me hard and fast, filling me up completely, giving me just a split second between thrusts to get just enough oxygen to keep from passing out.

Also true to his word, it didn't last long. I knew he'd been more than primed. In fact, I was shocked that he'd managed to hold off as long as he had. I wasn't surprised then, when after a couple of minutes of vigorous thrusting I felt his rod grow even more rigid, right before he let out his signature groan and flooded my mouth with his creamy cum, his body shuddering against the wall with his release. He continued thrusting, though slower and not nearly as deep, allowing me to swallow every drop he offered. I sucked him greedily, feeling satisfied and powerful at the same time. I had been the one to get him to this heightened state of arousal, and I had been the one to get him off. It was the best feeling in the world.

He pulled out only after he was completely spent. He gripped the headboard for support as he slid down the wall and onto his knees, so that we were face to face. With a sigh he reached for me and pulled me into a deep, slow kiss. Then he pushed me until I fell back onto the bed and he followed so that we lay side by side.

"That was incredible, brilliant!" he exalted. "I think better than any time before. The best in my life," he continued, running his hand over my body, tracing the rivulets of dried cum on my chest with his fingers.

"It was the best," I agreed, breathing deeply in complete satisfaction.

"I love you so fucking much, Ced. It's bloody torture not to have you in my life. You have no idea how much this meant to me. From now on, when I fantasize, it will be about this night," he said. His tone was slightly dreamy, so I couldn't be sure if he'd intentionally brought back the conversation topic we avoided earlier, but I was suddenly more alert. The sex had been great, of that there was no question, but his proposal held many implications that impacted our lives outside the bedroom, and I felt I needed more time to consider all of them before making a decision.

"I should go clean up," I pointed out, using it as an excuse to stop the conversation.

"Let's take a shower," he suggested. "I could stand to wash off some of this sweat as well."

We didn't talk much as we washed, focusing instead on how good it was to wash and take care of each other again. Afterwards we dried each other off and returned to bed. In a somewhat uncharacteristic move, he lay on top of me, my arms and legs wrapped loosely around him, his face nuzzling into my neck. It was perfect; until I realized that any moment he might get up and leave to go back to his house, to her bed. Instinctively I gripped him tighter and closer to me, enough for him to notice.

"Everything all right, Ced?" he asked, obviously concerned.

"I don't want to let you go," I confessed, continuing to hold him tight.

"You don't have to. Not tonight," he replied. I loosened my hold and allowed him to pull back his head so he could look directly at me.

"You'll stay?"

He nodded. "I made up an out-of-town business trip. The concert would have been too difficult to explain."

"And if I had said no?" I asked, not really sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"I didn't spend a lot of time dwelling on that possibility, but I would have gone to a hotel or back to the office. I have a bag there with fresh clothes for tomorrow - I'll take a shower at the gym and change there."

"If I said yes," I voiced my thoughts tentatively, "how would it work? Would it be like this?"

H. took a deep breath and rested his face on my chest. "I couldn't make up fake business trips every time. I wouldn't be able to do that often at all. I could probably carve out an afternoon each week where I could leave work early but tell her I'm working late. Any more frequent and it would have to be just a short time, just long enough to..." I cringed as his voice drifted off. He knew me well enough to understand I could never agree to anything like that - to be treated like a rentboy, seen just long enough to service a physical need.

"Once a week?" I confirmed plaintively.

"I know," he acknowledged. "It's not enough for me either, but...," he lifted his head and looked into my eyes, "it would be something, Ced. A time set aside each week just for the two of us. Imagine it!" he bade.

I did imagine it. I imagined meeting him, making love, lying in bed together afterwards. A few hours of stolen moments each week. Could I handle it? Would it be worth it?

"You'd come here?" I liked the thought of his smell permeating my flat for hours or maybe days after he left.

"No, that would be too risky, too suspicious," he pointed out. I stiffened beneath him.

"I will not go to a different hotel each week." I stated firmly. I needed a constant, and the same time each week wasn't enough. If I couldn't have him all the time, there had to at least be one place, and since for obvious reasons it couldn't be his home...

"We could meet at Grimmauld Place," he suggested. "Ginny doesn't know a thing about it. I haven't done anything with the house since I inherited it from uncle Sirius, but I can redecorate it. You could move in, Rick. It's bigger than this place and you'd save money since it's all paid for. I'll take care of all the expenses."

"No," I denied vehemently. "I will not give up my independence. I will not be a kept man. If I agree to this - if! - then I will have to maintain my independence. I will continue to live here. And just as I don't have any say over what goes on in your Belgravia house, you won't have any say over what goes on in here."

His eyes widened.

"You don't mean...?" he swallowed loudly. "You'd be with other men?" He seemed genuinely shocked.

"I don't know. I certainly wouldn't rule it out. I'm young, H., and I have a healthy sex drive that likely won't be satisfied once a week. And it's not like you'll be limiting yourself. I assume you're not planning to avoid your marital bed?"

"But that's..." he sputtered. “That’s completely different. You know I don't love Ginny."

"Love has nothing to do with it," I countered. "It will probably be loveless for me too."

"But she's a woman. I don't desire her. I don't enjoy being with her. In fact, I hate it!"

"That was your choice to make. And this is mine. If I decide to accept your conditions and limitations, you'll have to accept mine."

I could feel him tense, his hands curling into fists. I tensed as well, my body becoming rigid beneath his. I was about to lift my hands to push him off, when I felt him relax and go slack. I waited, too nervous to relax myself, watching him anxiously. He lowered his head and settled his face against my neck.

"I hate the thought of you with another man," he whispered. "I know there've been others for you, and that already drives me crazy. The thought that you could be with someone one night and with me the next..."

"Now you know how I feel about Ginny," I pointed out.

"It's different," he muttered. "I know you don't think so, but it is." He lifted his head and looked directly into my eyes. "I've never been with another man, Ced. You're the only one. You and her," he said the last word with clear disgust.

I was momentarily struck speechless. It was hard to believe that as many times as we had been apart during our various break-ups, he had never found another guy to satisfy his needs. I certainly never had any qualms about seeking out others, and aside from the expected jealousy and resentment that would have been natural for anyone who knew his boyfriend had been with another, H. had never made a single comment that would have even hinted he wasn't doing the same. I'd never asked, because it was easier not knowing. I'd thought about him with others more than once, but it helped that I never had a face to put together with the fuzzy images in my head. To find out that all those images were figments of my imagination was shocking, to say the least.

As I considered the information further, I realized that it made sense. H. had always been terrified of being found out, which meant that there would be few he would trust not to betray him. None, apparently. And perhaps he was right. Not everyone he ever met instantly recognized him as Lord Potter, but the unique scar on his forehead was a rather memorable giveaway. It made sense that H. would have been afraid to take a chance on a random hook up which could result in the public exposure of his orientation.

"I didn't know, but it doesn't change anything, H.," I explained, trying to be sensitive, yet, at the same time, firm. "That too was your choice. I may consider continuing our...relationship, despite your marital status, but not if it requires me to give up everything and everyone else in my life in exchange for one afternoon per week."

There may have once been a time when I'd seen him look as vulnerable as he looked right then, but it would have been when we first met, when we were still teens.

"All right," he conceded. "I meant what I said earlier. I'll take anything you're willing to give me."

I should have felt triumphant. Even when we were younger, the power shift in our relationship came very early. Although at first I was the more experienced and confident one, only months after we'd started dating H. was calling all the shots. Afterwards, any concession on his part had been rare and hard fought. This time, however, I didn't feel victorious. Instead, I felt like a bully who destroyed a younger, more vulnerable kid's innocence. And yet I knew I couldn't retreat, so instead of dealing with the issue I decided to set it aside, tightening my arms around him.

"Let's just get some sleep, yeah? We're too tired to make important decisions tonight."

He shifted off me and held out his arm so I could snuggle into his side, the way we both preferred when we slept. He pulled me in close and kissed my forehead, seemingly regaining some of his confidence. "I love you, Ced. You and no one else," he told me.

"I love you too, Al," I murmured sleepily, all energy suddenly draining right out of me. This definitely was not the right time to make important decisions. That would have to wait until morning.