Chapter 19

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Chapter 19: Attraction 

Eventually we cleaned up, pulled up our trousers and got ready for bed, all without really talking about what happened.  When we were under the covers with the lights out, instead of curling up in front of me as he usually did, Ashok turned to face me in bed and asked if it would be okay if he rested his head on my chest.  I saw no good reason to refuse, but then instead of just placing his head on my chest, he draped half his body over mine, with his arm wrapped around me and his leg hitched up over mine so that his dick pressed against my hip as his thigh rested on top of my tackle.  I said nothing, just wrapped my arm around him, holding him to me until we were both asleep.

The next day we went on as though nothing had happened. It was a Saturday, the last one before Greg and Helena left to meet up with Viktor in Austria, and she had insisted that we accompany her and Greg to Hampton court so she could show him the hedge maze, yet another one of her favorite things. I was happy to go along, intending to take the weekend to do the sightseeing with Ashok that we could not do during the week.  Taking Greg's advice, I'd purchased an annual pass at the Tower of London for Ashok and me when we visited it during his first week in London, and the pass included Hampton Court, making it almost a crime not to go.  It had been a while since I'd been, but what I remembered of the elaborate and imposing red brick facade was enough to convince me that Ashok would like it.  And he would love it all the more with Helena by his side.  

We took the train from Waterloo station and walked over to the palace, Greg reminding Helena that we had to be at the pier to catch the boat back to Westminster at four o'clock, which meant we could not do everything there was to do in one day.  

"Can we take a tour with the costumed guides, Daddy?" she asked sweetly.  "And the hedge maze?"

"We can do those two things and have lunch at Tiltyard cafe, but probably not much else," Greg calculated.

"That's okay, because we can all come back again," Helena announced what I could only assume had been a line oft-repeated by her fathers. 

We found a tour acceptable to Helena that met in the afternoon, so we went to the hedge maze first.  Ashok and Helena were in front, she insisting that he take the lead, since he had never been in the maze before.  We had a good time navigating the evergreen labyrinth, following not just the paths, but the intriguing sounds from the sound-art installation.  Ashok was extremely apologetic each time he led us down to a dead end, but Helena just giggled, urging him to try again, until he finally found the centre.  We rested for a while in the centre of the maze, enjoying our sense of victory, before Ashok, with his excellent sense of direction, led us back out without making a single misstep.  Helena clapped with glee and she and Ashok ran ahead happily, enjoying the wooded park that led back to the palace. 

"So, it certainly looks like living with you is agreeing with Ashok." Greg said when they were out of ear-shot. Surprisingly, his tone wasn't teasing, but rather cautious.       

"We're getting on well," I said, unable to look at him as visions of the previous night's activities flashed in my mind.

"That's obvious, and I'm glad.  I think this is good for both of you.  Is H. still being decent about it all?"

I hadn't told anyone about having to miss my meeting with H. or the resulting conversation.  I wanted to confide in Greg, but I was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle his critique if he decided to be brutally honest again.  Still, I couldn't let my fear overwhelm me to the point that I'd lie to my best friend just to avoid his judgment.

"He hasn't mentioned Ashok since the day he met him," I replied.

"Truly?" Greg was sceptical.  "His self-confidence is astounding.  I trust Viktor implicitly, but even I would be concerned if he was sharing a one bedroom flat with a young gay boy as gorgeous as Ashok, and even more so if I could only see him a few hours a week." 

"We haven't exactly had many opportunities to discuss it. He still hasn't managed to find time to ring me."

"But what about when you were with him Thursday?  Were you so busy fucking the entire time that you didn't talk at all?"

"I didn't see him Thursday," I admitted. "I was too busy at work to take the afternoon off."

Greg whistled. "Has that ever happened before?  I can't imagine H. was very pleased."

"I've had to miss a couple of meetings since we got back together and no, he's never pleased when it happens, especially this week.  Next week it'll be four weeks since the last time we met at the house."

"It'll be nearly that long since I've last seen Vik, so trust me, I know how difficult that is.  I'm getting pretty damned tired of my own hand," he said with a small laugh.

"Right," I looked down at the ground, definitely unable to meet his eyes.  I must have sounded as unconvincing as I felt.

"Something you want share?" he prodded carefully.  I shook my head.  

"But something happened between you and Ashok." He made a statement instead of asking a question.  "And since you were acting pretty normal at dinner last night, I'd wager it happened after you two went home."

"Greg," I sighed.  I should have known he'd pull this out of me.

"I don't want to judge, but he is vulnerable and he's just lost his lover..." he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid without making an outright accusation.

"He initiated it," I said defensively. "We were both horny and he suggested that we help each other out. We just wanked together. Wanked each other, I mean. So as not to use our own hands," I explained weakly.  Greg cracked a smile, and then became serious again.

"Does he know about H.?"

"Yes, of course he does. I told him on the plane back form the Emirates.  Last night I reminded him, but he said it wasn't love or sex, just a little help..." I hung my head, hearing the flimsy justification for what it was.  I never truly believed what we did had been innocent.  Greg, however, seemed to take pity on me.

"Well, he may be vulnerable and he may be young, but he is an adult and he's no stranger to sex, and it doesn't sound like you were seducing him anyway.  I suppose if you were both honest with each other, and you knew what to expect, then it was what it was and nothing more."

I walked next to him wordlessly.

"Or was it more?" 

"It wasn't, but it easily could have been. So easily!  How can I think that way, Greg?  I love H.  How could I have done what I did last night?"

"It's no more than he's done with Ginny.  Less, in point of fact."

I shook my head.  "He'll never stand for it."

"You knew that last night and yet you went through with it anyway.  That should tell you something."

"That I'm the biggest idiot on the planet?" 

"Not exactly where I was going.  How did you feel last night?"

"Honestly?  I felt good.  I felt fucking fantastic. The way he looked afterwards was just beautiful, and I made that happen. We fell asleep holding each other and woke up the same way, and it was brilliant.  But it was also wrong!" 

"And I'll say again, you knew that going in, but it didn't stop you.  Why not?"

I took in a ragged breath. "Because I was angry with H., and feeling sorry for myself, and because I wanted to be there for Ashok," I tried to explain.

"The same way he wanted to be there for you, right?" Greg pressed. 

"Right," I said, resigned. "He is so honest and his intentions are so pure."

"You have been kind to him. You've taken him in and protected him and he wants to repay that kindness.  And as simple as that sounds, it's more than H. has ever done."

"But I love H.," I said flatly.  

"Do you?  I wonder."

"How can you say that?" I hissed in growing anger.  "After everything I've been through, everything I've done.  Would any man do that for anyone they didn't love?"

"I don't know.  Do you love him or are you just addicted?  When we were in Dubai, when you were away from him, you finally started seeing him more clearly.  Tell you what, why don't you tell him what happened with Ashok and see what he does?  How will he react? Does he love you enough to forgive you the way you forgive him?"

"I will tell him," I agreed, "not because I want to test him, but because it's the right thing to do. I couldn't live with that kind of secret."

"Good," Greg nodded his approval.  "And in the meantime, don't take this out on the boy." He looked ahead to where Ashok and Helena had slowed and were strolling.  He was looking down at her and listening as she relayed something animatedly.  

"Of course I won't.  He was just trying to help.  The fault is entirely mine."

"And quit beating yourself up," Greg admonished heatedly. "H. seduced you when he knew you were in a relationship with another man, remember? And as I recall, he didn't feel too guilty about that either.  You'd never cheated on anyone until he tricked you into it.  He planted the seeds long ago.  It's high time he started reaping what he sowed."

I could tell Greg was thoroughly disgusted with H. and had no sympathy for him, so he wasn't thinking objectively.  I wanted to protest, but I needed even more to stop talking about all this, especially since we were nearing the palace and would soon catch up with Ashok and Helena.  Plus, much as I wanted to deny it, Greg's theory had a ring of truth.  H. had made me into a cheater and he had been and remained a cheater himself. That didn't mean that he should immediately forgive me for what I did, but it didn't exactly give him a tight foothold on the moral high ground. And after years of nothing but my hand and toys for company in between our trysts, wasn't a slip to be expected? Unfortunately, the thought didn't exactly cheer me, it just made me more bitter.   

For the sake of my companions, I tried to act normal and happy.  Ashok sensed something was wrong.  I could tell by the way he looked at me searchingly on several occasions from the other side of the table as we ate lunch at the Tiltyard cafe. I didn't acknowledge the glances, though, and he was clearly reluctant to ask questions in front of Helena.  Eventually Greg managed to distract him by giving him prints of a few of the pictures he took during our outing the previous weekend.  They included the picture of Ashok with Helena at Trafalgar Square and feeding ducks in the park as well as a photo of me and Ashok sitting side by side on a park bench, my arm around him holding him close to my side and both of us smiling happily. Ashok tried not to be obvious, but I saw that throughout lunch he kept sneaking glances at that photo, a smile appearing on his face every time he did so. While he understood, he was visibly disappointed when I put the pictures in my satchel when we were done eating, despite my assurances that he would get them back as soon as we were back at the flat.  

After lunch we stopped by the gift shop, where I bought Ashok "The Taste of the Fire", a book about historical cooking at Hampton Court along with authentic recipes from the reign of Henry VIII, fortunately translated into modern English.  His excitement about the book, as well as the prospect of returning to the palace on a weekend when the kitchen staff would be doing a live demonstration, was contagious and brought me out of my dour mood.  By the time we were done being led around the palace by costumed guides and heading to the dock to catch the boat that would return us to central London, I was almost back to normal.  I knew when I saw him next I would have to tell H. about what happened, but there was no point in spoiling everyone else's day by brooding about it or worrying about his reaction.    

The boat ride back was very pleasant, and especially exciting for Ashok, who was seeing all the riverside sights for the first time.  He was impressed by the many posh residences we saw along the Thames, by the rigging of the Cutty Sark in Greenwich, which was open to the public again after extensive restorations following a devastating fire, and by the fact that we passed right below Dré and Vince's flat.  The two of them even came out onto their balcony to wave at us when we alerted them to our passing.  We reached Westminster shortly after seven and found a place to have dinner before Greg took the exhausted Helena back home.  Ashok and I weren't quite as tired, so I asked if he'd like to go out to a pub or club, but he declined with a shake of his head.  His eyes lit up, however, when I mentioned the cinema.  

"I have been to the cinema two times," he proclaimed. "It was wonderful.  But maybe it is too much, or perhaps you are tired?"

"Nonsense.  I haven't seen a film in a cinema in ages.  It'll be great fun."

We took the Tube to Leicester Square.  It was a warm summer night and the area was packed with people, but fortunately most of them wanted to remain outdoors, so the queue wasn't too bad.  We bought our tickets and snacks and followed the usher to our assigned seats.  I deliberately chose a popular action movie that was playing in Empire 1, the perfect choice for the largest screen with a superior projection and sound system. Ashok was duly impressed.  

"The cinema I have been to was nothing like this," he said with awe, looking around.  Lights dimmed and the previews began as ushers seated late arrivals.  I chuckled when Ashok became mesmerized by the images on the screen, pleased that I'd remembered how curious he was about the posters for this movie when we saw them the previous weekend.  Soon the previews were over and all but the emergency exit lights went off as the movie began. 

I tried to pay attention to the movie, but I was far more interested in watching Ashok, who was completely absorbed with the action on the screen.  In an effort to spare his having to look away from the screen, I tried to feed him some of the chocolate bar, which he seemed to have forgotten about, but I soon discovered that had been a bad idea.  As soon as I touched his lips with the chocolate, his eyes became focused on me, and neither one of us seemed to be able to look away. He opened his mouth and took a bite of the bar, closing his lips entirely too close to my fingers.  I stared at him, completely transfixed, as he ate the sweet.  Frozen in place, I watched as he leaned towards me and opened his mouth again, this time taking in more of the bar as well as my fingers.  My heart sped up, my cock began to grow and I licked my lips as his tongue sensuously circled my index finger and thumb. I let out a low moan as he began to suck, and I couldn't stop myself from leaning in until our noses touched and his lips parted to release my fingers in anticipation of our inevitable kiss. I hesitated, my face hovering mere millimeters away from his, caught somewhere between desire and reason. I knew I was playing with fire, yet I couldn't pull back. Then he moved almost imperceptibly forward and I felt the gossamer softness of his ripe, full lips against mine.  I sensed him pulling back and I was overwhelmed by exasperation, the kiss having been so ephemeral I wasn't even sure it happened. Determined not to give up the moment to doubt, I leaned forward again, this time making sure our lips made contact. I felt the barest hint of air as he sighed against me and, taking advantage of his parted lips, I plunged my tongue inside his mouth, fully exploring the chocolate-laced surfaces. I sensed his complete surrender, his own tongue moving aside in retreat, allowing me to plunder his mouth at will.  My whole body hummed with victory and a yearning for even more as I took all the sweetness he so willingly gave.

A screeching noise from the speakers startled us both and caused me to move back in alarm. I'd been so lost in the kiss that I had totally blocked out our surroundings, and it took me a second to realize that we were in a public theater, not in the privacy of my flat. I saw him staring at me, wide eyed, expectant, waiting for my reaction.  I wanted to grab him, pull him to me, and continue right where we'd left off, but the interruption sobered me up enough to realize how wrong that would be.  

"I'm sorry, Ashok, I shouldn't have done that," I whispered loud enough for only him to hear.  It was painful to see disappointment and sadness flood his eyes and to feel him shrink back into his seat.  He said nothing, merely nodded and turned back to the screen.   Outwardly, he soon seemed as captivated as before, but I saw him furiously blinking away unshed tears before assuming a blank, faraway look that told me his mind was elsewhere and he wasn't really seeing any of the movie.  I knew I would have to make this up to him one way or another, I just didn't have a clue how.

When the lights came back up he thanked me and told me he'd enjoyed the film very much, but his voice betrayed his true emotions.  I hated myself for ruining this experience for him, and resolved to talk to him as soon as we were back in private.  We were mostly silent on the way back to the flat.  When we finally got there, he thwarted my plans by announcing that he was tired and asking if it was all right if he turned in early. I couldn't very well deny him, so I stayed in the living room and thought about how I'd managed to fuck everything up.  The worst part was that as much as I regretted causing Ashok pain, and as low as I felt for betraying H.'s trust, I also couldn't forget how good that kiss made me feel.  I wasn't an inexperienced kid.  I'd kissed many guys in my life, some of them better than others.  H., Jasper and Kinkaid had definitely been at the top of the list, each of them satisfying different needs.  But whether it was my vulnerable emotional state or something else altogether, the kiss with Ashok seemed more unique and special than all the rest. And that absolutely terrified me.

It was very late when I finally decided to go to bed.  Part of the delay was caused by my indecision regarding where to sleep. After what happened in the movie theater, I knew sleeping with Ashok would present a lot of temptation, perhaps more than I would be able to resist.  On the other hand, it seemed unfair to abandon him completely just because of my weakness.  In the end, I opted to check on Ashok, thinking if he was soundly asleep I would stay on the couch. When I cracked the door to the bedroom, however, he raised his head, letting me know he was awake.  He pulled back the covers in a silent invitation that I could not turn down. I took off my clothes and slipped into bed, spooning up behind him, wrapping my arm around him the way I always did.  He grabbed onto my hand with his, and shifted around, pushing himself back until there was no space between us.  The desire I felt in the theater returned with full force, and I bit my lip in a fruitless effort to keep myself from getting hard.  It didn't help that Ashok did not immediately still and fall asleep, as he usually did.  Instead, he continued to grind his arse into my groin.  I knew I should have pulled away and left the bed altogether, but it felt so good, and it had been such a long time since I felt this way with anyone. Any rational thoughts were very quickly being replaced by pulsating pleasure, though I did vaguely note that, still holding his hand over mine, Ashok began directing it downward.  

"Ashok..." the protest died on my lips as he placed my hand over his erection and wrapped both of our fingers around it before he began to stroke.

"Wait," the still rational part of me managed a single word, but then he turned to look at me over his shoulder, his lips parted and eyes filled with need, and I lost all recollection speech.  I could only accept his silent invitation and take his waiting mouth, resuming our earlier kiss exactly where we left off. The residual chocolate long gone, his mouth now tasted cool and minty. I devoured him nevertheless.  I couldn't get enough, especially when he started moaning sweetly into my mouth, and his tongue tentatively emerged to slide against mine.  I was painfully hard, and I knew he felt every inch of me as he continued the rolling motion of his hips so that his tight little bum slid back and forth over my engorged member.  At the same time he continued to guide my hand in easy strokes over his own hardness.  The combination left me panting, eager for more friction, desperate for release.  

As if he was reading my mind, I felt Ashok shift, moving from his side onto his back and wedging his body beneath mine so that my cock was throbbing right next to his. He removed the hand that had guided mine and wrapped it around me, moving it up and down in time with my strokes.  I winced slightly, my excess skin stretched taut across my erection making unlubricated contact less than ideal.  I didn't move away, though, determined not to let anything, even my own discomfort, interrupt this moment.  Fortunately, he was as observant as ever, moving his hand up to my head and coating it with the precum flowing freely out of my slit.  I would have done the same but it would have been pointless, since he hardly leaked at all. His skin, however, was looser than mine, and he didn't appear to be in any pain as I continued to pump his shaft. 

Neither of us said a word, yet we both knew it was time to speed up.  I released his mouth but we continued to kiss, our lips landing on each other's faces, jaws, necks and shoulders.  The only sounds in the room were my soft grunts and his soft whimpers as we bucked into each other's hands.  Ashok threw his head back, exposing his neck.  The invitation was too tempting.  I fastened my lips onto the newly revealed expanse of flesh, catching some of it gently between my teeth before I sucked his warm, sweet skin.  Even as I marked him, our hands moved between our bodies in unison, faster and faster. I was getting close, but I also sensed from the sounds he made and the way his body began to tremble that he was even closer.  I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted and needed to happen.  I used my free hand for leverage against the mattress to hold myself above him and raised my hips, creating enough space between us to give me room to angle the head of his penis towards mine.  Then I pressed my lips to his again, invading his mouth with my tongue.  My kisses were hard and relentless as I sped up the movements of my hand, until I felt his entire body stiffen for a moment before he began thrashing and I felt his warm, slick cum flood over his hand and my cock, exactly where I had directed it.  The satisfaction of having brought him to orgasm, the extra lubrication, and his faster strokes sent me over the edge, and I threw my head back with a cry as ropes of my cream spattered his stomach and chest. I felt his free hand touch my neck and then slide down across my chest even as I continued to coat him with my ejaculate.  I looked back down at him, saw the sweet awe and satisfaction in his eyes, and had to kiss him again, gently this time, merely brushing his lips with my own as we both finished coming and tried to catch our breath. 

I collapsed on my left side and rolled onto my back, making sure to have grabbed him and rolled him with me so he was now lying fully on top of me. I wasn't particularly built, but he was so slight I hardly noticed his weight.  Instead I focused on how good his warm and soft skin felt covering my own.  I wrapped both arms around his body, keeping one on his back and lowering the other to rub his beautifully contoured arse, and using both to press him tightly against me.  I breathed in his scent, now mixed with the musky aromas of our cum, and I found myself thoroughly spent and relaxed.  I loosened my hold, though I did not release him completely until he wiggled above me indicating he wanted me to let go.  I let my arms fall to the side and felt him slipping first off me and then off the bed.  Alarmed, I opened my eyes and lifted my head in question.

"I will be right back," he answered without me having to say a word.

I let my head fall back and waited, wondering what he was doing.  He was back in minutes with a warm, wet flannel and another dry towel, which he used to clean and dry me off.  I noticed he was already clean, and figured he finished the task in the bathroom before he came out.  When I was completely dry he retreated to the bathroom again, only to return moments later.  He climbed into bed beside me and laid his head on my chest, hitching his leg over my hips as he had done the previous evening.  I wanted to thank him for washing up and to tell him how good he'd made me feel, but I was too tired and relaxed to talk.  I pulled the covers over us and brought my arm up, gently stroking his hair until we both fell asleep.

We had shifted during the night, so that when I woke up I was still flat on my back but Ashok was lying on his other side, with his bum pressed against my hip and his head resting on my shoulder as my arm wrapped around him.  I wasn't sure what to do, not really able to make sense of what happened the night before.  There was no question that I'd stepped way over the line.  It was one thing for Ashok and me to help each other toss while sitting side by side on the sofa, it was quite another to do it in bed, kissing the entire time.  Yet, even as I mentally berated myself for my poor choices, I was physically reacting to the boy's proximity, and the same wave of longing and confusion that drove me to do what I did the previous night rose at an alarming rate, threatening to spill over the dam I was hastily building to keep my inappropriate feelings contained.  

As wrong as I knew it was, lying there next to him, his smaller, warm body fitting so well against my own, I couldn't help noticing how right it all seemed.  It had been too long since I'd experienced it, but not so long that I didn't remember how much I loved waking up next to a man I'd been intimate with the night before, to smell the light musk of sex that still hung in the room, to rub against him suggestively in hopes of an encore, to watch his eyes slowly open and to watch his face take on the look that said he was very interested in the same thing.  I remembered all of it and I suddenly craved it like a man in the desert craves water. 

Ashok chose that very moment to turn onto his other side, so that his erection dug into my flesh and his hand found a natural resting place over my own hard length.  I couldn't help it.  I groaned with both pleasure and frustration, at once wanting more and knowing that even this was going too far.  Ashok stirred and when I looked down at him I saw the very interest I had just been thinking about as his eyes slowly opened and his lips turned up into a warm, shy smile. The hand that was resting on my dick curled and tightened around me and his hips thrust forward gently.  I groaned again, closing my eyes and trying to summon some vestige of self-control, to keep this from heading down the inevitable road. It didn't work. Any thought of resistance was rendered futile as Ashok shifted his body over mine and placed small, soft kisses along my chest, nipping gently at my nipples. Even with him lying on top of me, I arched my hips to rub my blood-filled, sensitive head against his stomach, enjoying the texture of the light smattering of hair he had there. He slid down, his lips following the trail of hair in the center of my chest down to my stomach and then lower still, until I felt his pillowy lips wrap around the head of my cock.  

I gasped as his tongue fluttered against my frenulum and arched my hips again, driving myself deeper into his mouth. He moaned around me, his lips and tongue massaging my shaft. I looked down and wove the fingers of one hand into his hair, just resting my hand on his head.  He looked up and even though his mouth was full of my cock, the smile he gave me was reflected in his eyes. I smiled back because he looked so damned sexy, and then closed my eyes as he began to suck.  He was gentle, coaxing, and the light pull combined with the warm wetness of his mouth helped me relax a little.  I gave myself over to the sensations.  He sucked for a while, and then wrapped his hand around the base of my shaft, stroking as he bobbed up and down.  Only about half of my cock was in his mouth, but he gagged and backed off as he tried to take more.  I met his worried eyes and lowered my hand from his hair to his cheek, stroking it gently with my thumb.

"It's okay, Ashy.  If you want to, you can relax your throat and try again, but what you're doing now is just fine." I told him quietly, trying to be encouraging and not demanding. I felt his whole body relax and then he tried deep throating again, with slightly more success. I truly didn't care.  The things he was doing with his hand and mouth were more than enough.  My cock certainly didn't need to be lodged down his throat for me to come. "That's perfect," I spoke softly. "Feels so good.  Use those sweet lips, Ashok!"

His lips clutched at my dick as they slid up and down.  He sped up, revving me up, and slowed down to back me off several times, until I was crazed with the need to come.  Pressure in my balls intensified as my sac constricted at the base of my cock.  

"Fuck, Fuck!"  I cried out, my hips pumping involuntarily, thrusting into his willing mouth.  I tightened my grip on his hair and used my other hand to pinch my nipples.  "Fuck, I'm coming!" I gave him a moment's notice before my cock began to pulse.

I didn't know what to expect, but he seemed unperturbed, swallowing my juice like it was ambrosia.  He kept sucking, though gently again, extracting every bit of cum as I lay panting, my forearm thrown over my closed eyes.  I was so relaxed, I was in danger of falling back asleep, but when he finally pulled his mouth off me I roused myself and reached down for him, pulling him up until our lips met.  I kissed him deeply and thoroughly, pushing my tongue into his mouth to taste the residue of my cum.  He moaned and flexed his hips, his erection poking into my belly.

"Your turn," I said, breaking the kiss and flipping us over so that he was on his back as I quickly slid down the bed and took his cock into my mouth.  I used my hand to pull back the foreskin and, just as he had earlier, made love to his head with my lips and tongue.  He squirmed beneath me, and I knew he was much more charged up than I had been at first, and very much in danger of coming. I pulled my mouth off and used my hand to stroke just at the base of his shaft, until I felt him relax.  When I next wrapped my mouth around him I let my tongue rest and put my throat to work. His dick was shorter and not as thick, and I was more experienced, so I had no trouble swallowing his entire length.  He gasped and tried to pull out as he felt himself fully lodged in my throat, but I held his hips firmly to keep him in place until he relaxed again.  It was only then that I pulled back, and even that only enough to allow me a breath before I impaled my throat on his cock again. His fingers dug into my scalp, and every fiber of his body was signaling he was ready to blow, which was precisely why I pulled all the way off again, resuming my easy, partial strokes at just his base.  

"Can't have it be over for you so soon," I said huskily as he stared at me, his deep brown eyes glazed and hooded. I pushed his foreskin up over his engorged head and slipped my tongue inside, beneath the cowl.  He arched his hips and let out a low moan as my tongue circled around his head, and then ran through his slit, picking up the drop of his precum that had beaded there. "I can't wait to properly taste you," I told him as I released him again.  

"Please!" he whimpered. His lust-filled, pleading eyes locked with mine.  He looked so beautiful and wanton, I couldn't resist pushing myself up over him and capturing his lips, still tasting myself on his tongue as it slid sensually against mine.  I used my hand to stroke him slowly as we kissed.  His hands were still in my hair, though his fingers relaxed and were now gently massaging my scalp as our deep, passionate kiss continued. He was an amazing kisser, responsive and giving. He let me dominate without being too timid, and his soft sighs and whimpers as I sucked his lower lip or thrust my tongue into the depths of his mouth only made me want to keep going, to hear more. 

I knew he had given himself over completely to my control, and would not complain or demand no matter how much I chose to delay his gratification. As his hips bucked into the loose tunnel I made for his prick with my hand, however, I decided to stop torturing him and give him what he wanted. It was, after all, what I wanted and needed as well. I trailed kisses down his chin and neck, over his chest and stomach and down over his left hip and the sensitive juncture between his torso and thigh. Still stroking him with my hand, I licked at his scrotum.  I heard his gasp even as I felt the skin constricting with his increased arousal.  His balls were perfectly proportioned to the rest of him.  I easily slipped my mouth over one, and then the other, and then, as they crowded together at the base of his shaft, for a moment over both.  He was tensing and reaching the edge and I knew I couldn't pay them as much attention as I wanted for fear that plus my hand would be enough to push him over.  That might be acceptable, even fun, someday, but not the first time, not when I selfishly wanted to feel him pulsing inside my mouth and flooding it with his juice.     

I wrapped my lips around him again and relaxed my throat as I impaled myself on him again, causing a raise in the volume of his pleading whimpers. I smiled in satisfaction, knowing he was right where I wanted him, before I pulled up and began to suck him in earnest and flitting my tongue against his frenulum to propel him towards orgasm.  It didn't take long before I felt him harden and lengthen one last time, and then his cum fountained out and filled my waiting mouth. I managed to swallow as he continued flowing and soon had to swallow again.  He had a mild, pleasant flavor, only slightly salty and not at all bitter, and I smiled with pleasure as I suckled out a third mouthful. His hands fell away from my head and I looked up to see him laying boneless on the bed, his eyes closed, a small smile gracing his perfect lips.  I wished I could somehow take a picture of the decadent scene we must have presented, but I contented myself with making sure that his flow was done before I gave him a final swipe with my tongue and pushed myself up and moved his arm over a little so I could lie beside him. 

He turned his head to look at me, his eyes only slightly focused. "Thank you," he said softly.

"It was, quite obviously, my pleasure," I told him, reaching over to pull him to my side.  He obliged by scooting over and molding himself to me, his head resting on my chest and shoulder.   

"When do we have to get up?" he asked through a yawn. I glanced at the clock.  It was nearing ten, but it was also Sunday and we'd made no plans.  

"Not any time soon. We'll have to get to the supermarket before it closes, but that's not for hours.  Shall we try to go back to sleep?"

Ashok nodded and tightened the arm that he'd draped over my chest.  I smiled, kissed his head, and closed my eyes, allowing my thoughts to drift aimlessly until I fell asleep.  Hunger pangs woke me a couple of hours later and, as I stretched, I felt Ashok stirring beside me.

"I think it's time to eat," I said when I caught his still sleepy eyes. "You can stay in bed a while longer, if you'd like, while I shower and make breakfast. Or, more like brunch."

"No," he shook his head and yawned. "I'll get up too.  I'll make coffee while you shower.  I can cook too," he offered.

"I know you can, better than me at that, but you've been cooking all week and you deserve a break, so let me handle this one meal, okay?" 

"Okay, but I will start the coffee while you are in the shower," he compromised.

"Fine," I grinned at his stubbornness and sat up, turning to put my feet the floor and stand. I walked over to the chest and pulled a tee-shirt and a pair of jeans out to wear for the day before heading into the bathroom.  Once there I turned on the water and stepped into the shower before the water could warm, wanting the cold temperature to help me wake up. Unfortunately, as I became more alert, I also started to think, and my thoughts weren't exactly pleasant.  

There was no getting around the fact that I'd cheated on H., and not just by lending a helping hand to a lonely kid in need.  I might have gotten away with that farce if we'd confined ourselves to what happened Friday night, but certainly not after our subsequent lovemaking. I stopped washing myself momentarily as I thought about that word: lovemaking.  I couldn't say I loved Ashok. How could I? I was definitely attracted to him and I liked him very much. I had a great time hanging out with him and quite enjoyed him looking up to me as he did, but we'd only known each other for two weeks!  It was entirely too soon to talk about love, and probably even too soon to mention falling in love, though the more I thought about it the more I began to recognize that what I was feeling was definitely similar. But whatever my feelings were or were not, there was no denying that the previous night and this morning Ashok and I made love.  I'd had sex before, plenty of times, mostly good, though some bad too, but even with a considerate partner sex did not reach the level of intimacy Ashok and I experienced together. It was probably the kisses. There was a sweetness and satisfaction in those kisses, and a desire for more, that only few men in my life could even approach, and those were the three men that I thought I'd loved.  I took a deep breath as I leaned against the shower wall.  I didn't just cheat on H., I'd made love with another man.  And if I was to be completely honest, I wanted to do it again.

You want to do it again because you and H. haven't made love in so long, you'd almost forgotten how it felt! I heard a nagging voice in the back of my mind that sounded suspiciously like a mixture of Greg and Dré. Sadly, the voice was right.  For months now, sex with H. had been harried and perfunctory. It satisfied the basic need as best as infrequent sex could, but it hadn't lifted me to a higher emotional level in a very long time. With each disappointment I tried to forget and focused on the next time, hoping that would be the moment we'd re-capture the magic, but it had been a lot of waiting with nothing to show for it.  That, however, could never excuse cheating.  Even if H.'s behavior was wrong, two wrongs did not make a right. There was no other way around it.  I would have to tell him what I'd done and hope that he would understand.  Or maybe hope that he wouldn't understand, the voice nagged again and I resumed my washing to distract myself. I didn't even want to consider the possibility that I might have done what I did with Ashok in order to force H.'s hand.   

Ashok was waiting in the living room when I emerged from the bathroom.  Unabashedly nude, his clothes for the day sat in a small pile beside him.  This wasn't unusual.  Since we slept together in the nude, it seemed silly to be self-conscious about nudity during waking hours, and we weren't.  However, now that we'd been together, the nudity was almost too intimate, though apparently I was the only one who felt that way.  Perhaps it was because I was the only one who felt guilty about what we had done.

"The coffee is almost ready, and I took out some food, but I didn't cook anything," Ashok informed.

"Okay.  You go get ready and hopefully by the time you're done, I will be too."

He picked up his clothes and headed for the shower.  He paused for a moment in front of me, as if to say or do something, but then changed his mind and continued walking until he disappeared in the bathroom.  It would have taken a better man than I could ever hope to be not to turn to watch his fine little backside as he walked away from me. He was so damned attractive and enticing, he might as well have been a shiny red apple, freshly liberated off the forbidden tree of knowledge. Carnal knowledge. And that tight dark bum was the only morsel I had yet to sample.  And would not sample, I told myself firmly, at least not while the situation with H. was unresolved.     

I went into the kitchen and noted that in addition to setting the frying pan on the hob, Ashok had indeed taken out the bread, butter and eggs, the ingredients for the simple breakfast I'd prepared for us the previous weekend.  I could easily have made the same thing again.  I knew he wouldn't have minded, but something so simple and ordinary didn't feel right for such a complex morning.  Hoping that I hadn't completely lost my skills despite not having used them for some time, I decided to make the American-style breakfast that had become a favorite during my brief time living with Jasper. As unthinkable as it was to most of my countrymen, he had actually convinced me to enjoy savory eggs and bacon served together, on the same plate, even, as lightly sweetened American pancakes.  I knew Ashok wasn't a big fan of the full English Anyway, and he enjoyed sweets, so I was hopeful that the combination would please rather than offend him. 

I reached into the cupboard and dug out a bottle of shake to make American style pancake mix and then stuck my head into the fridge to pull out a pack of streaky bacon rashers, pleased that I'd remembered to buy some the previous week. I dug out the electric grill Greg and Viktor had given me as a birthday present a few years back and turned it on after laying out the bacon strips and closing the plates.  With the meat cooking and the frying pan warming, I opened the bottle of pancake mix and filled it with water.  I was about to shake the mix when I realized even this would not be special enough.  I quickly peeled and mashed up a banana, opened a bag of mixed nuts, and chopped up a couple of handfuls.  I threw both the fruit and nuts into the bottle before screwing on the lid and shaking the contents until I was reasonably certain the mix was well blended. I coated the frying pan with oil spray and poured out enough batter to make three small pancakes. Ashok had already taken out the plates, so all I needed to do was flip the pancakes and wait for them to finish cooking before placing them on the plates and repeating the process for a second and third batch.  There was enough mix for four pancakes each, and when I was done I cracked four eggs into the pan to fry those up as well.  

Ashok came into the kitchen just as I was pouring oil over the tops of the yolks.  "What is that wonderful aroma?" he asked, sniffing the air curiously.

"It's the bacon," I said, lifting the top plate of the grill and using the spatula to place a couple of rashers on each of our plates.  "Don't tell me you never smelled it before."

"Bacon?  Is that pork?"

"It is.  Pork belly, I believe."

"Then no, I have not smelled it before," he shook his head emphatically. "I am sure I would have remembered a smell like this from my childhood, but my family was poor and we did not eat a lot of meat. Usually just vegetables with paneer.  At work we ate meat, but never pork, which was forbidden. Usually just goat, sheep or chickens and seafood."

I frowned with concern.  "I keep forgetting about the meat.  You don't have to eat the bacon. I'll happily eat your share."

Ashok shook his head. "I am not Muslim, so I can eat pork, and this smells delicious!  I cannot wait to try it."

"You shan't have to wait long.  The eggs are almost done.  Can you pour us some coffee while I finish up?"

It was only another minute before Ashok and I carried our breakfast to the table in the living room. I went back to fetch the maple syrup and orange juice, feeling quite pleased at the look of admiration on Ashok's face. He was, without a doubt, a better cook, but there were still a few things I could do well. 

"These are delicious," Ashok raved as he devoured the pancakes. "You must show me how to make them.  And I love bacon!"

Munching on my own bacon rasher, I grinned, thrilled by his reaction and happy that the breakfast turned out as special as I'd wanted it to be.  As I remembered why I wanted it to be special, however, doubts and guilt overwhelmed me again, erasing my smile.  Ashok noticed immediately.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," I answered instinctively, and then immediately realized that I had to be honest with him. "Well, to be honest, yes."

"Have I done something to displease you?" he asked anxiously.

"No, Ashok.  It's not you.  I've done something to displease me," I explained.  As soon as the words left my lips I realized how they could be misinterpreted and hurriedly corrected. "Not something that displeased me, per se, but rather something that I had no right to do."

Ashok looked at me, puzzled.

"I'm not making any sense, am I?" I asked rhetorically, though he shook his head to confirm my impression.

"I'm talking about earlier this morning, and last night, and the night before that.  Those were all..." I hesitated.

"Perfect," he filled in, though rather sadly.  "Those were all absolutely perfect, at least for me.  I hoped they were for you as well."

"Oh, yes.  I didn't mean... Everything we did this weekend felt incredible.  It's just..."

"I understand," he said flatly.  "It is like you said at the cinema. It was a mistake.  Something you did not want to do."

He stared down at his empty plate, refusing to meet my eyes.  Suddenly he rose and, still without looking at me, picked up his dishes and headed for the kitchen. 

"Fuck!" I cursed softly, hating myself for ruining what had been a wonderful, almost magical day and weekend. I stood and brought my own dishes to the kitchen.  He was in front of the sink, hands braced on the counter, head hanging low. I couldn't bear seeing him like that.  Setting my dishes on the counter, I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, folding my hands over his middle and pulling him tightly against me.  

"I'm so sorry.  I never meant to make you feel bad.  Can we go sit and talk?  I need to explain myself better.  Please?" I spoke quietly into his ear.  He didn't say anything, but he nodded his consent.  I stepped back to let him turn and followed him to the sofa. He sat down but just on the edge of the seat, as if he wanted the freedom to bolt if he needed to.

"I want you to understand that there was nothing wrong with what you did.  In fact, you're right, what happened between us was very special," I assured him.

"Perfect," he insisted, sounding almost stubborn, causing me to smile.

"I'm very glad you thought so."

"I do.  May I tell you why?" Before I could even nod, he continued, "Until Pankaj, no one had ever been kind to me physically.  No one had ever made me feel desirable or treated me as anything but a burden or a servant.  When I arrived at the Al Qasimi house, Pankaj was just a friend, almost like an older brother who looked out for me, and even that was more than I ever had before. It took a while for him to bring up the subject of us becoming more than that.  He was afraid, we both were, that if someone, even a good friend, found out that we preferred the company of men, they would not understand, so we hid, even from each other.

"Eventually, we decided to take a risk.  The day we expressed our feelings for each other the first time was the most wonderful day of my life.  That day Pankaj showed me how two men can love each other physically. He gave me so much pleasure and showed me how to please him."

Ashok closed his eyes, obviously caught in the memory. Watching his face, so serene, peaceful and loving, I felt the ugly stab of jealousy, followed immediately by shame.  How could I be jealous of memories, when I was the one who was with another man? I had no right to these feelings, and it sickened me to have them.  Fortunately, I managed to hide my reaction before Ashok opened his eyes.

"I loved Pankaj, and I loved being with him.  When he was killed, I felt like I died with him.  I thought no one could ever make me feel the things I felt for him, and no one could ever feel about me the way he did. You made me realize that I was wrong.  You made me see that even though Pankaj is dead, I am still alive.  I can hold on to my memories of him, which are beautiful, but I can also still give and receive pleasure.  Thank you for showing me that," his deep eyes were so full of raw, vulnerable sincerity, I knew I had to be very careful how I responded.

"I am so happy that's how you feel about this weekend.  You not only can, but should give and receive pleasure.  From everything you told me about Pankaj, I know he would have wanted that for you.  He would want you to find a man who will care for you the way he did."

I don't know what I expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't, "I think you are right. He would want me to find someone like that.  And I think I already have. I found you."

"Ashok," I sighed. "I think you are a sweet, wonderful guy.  I love spending time with you and talking with you and I won't deny that I am very attracted to you, but you need and deserve someone who will be completely devoted to you, like Pankaj was, and I am not that man.  You know I'm with someone else.  It was wrong of me to do what I did.  I betrayed his trust and I confused you.  It was selfish and I am very sorry for both.  I just hope I didn't completely ruin things between us, though if you are too angry with me for what I did and don't want to stay here anymore, I completely understand. Vince and Dré said you can stay with them any time you want. As you saw, they have a lot of space.  You would have a room of your own."

"You want me to leave?" he looked devastated.

"No, I don't!" I grabbed his hands in mine.  "That's the last thing I want.  I love having you here. The last couple of weeks have been great, and I really hope you stay. I just want you to know you have a choice, because we can't keep doing what we did this weekend.  Do you understand?" I looked imploringly deep into his eyes.  I wanted so badly for things to go back to the way they were Friday afternoon.  But my wish was not going to be answered, as Ashok shook his head. 

"I do not understand. I thought you and H. loved each other, cared for each other."

I frowned with confusion.  I was as lost as he seemed to be.  "We do," I confirmed, nodding.

"But if H. loves you, doesn't he want you to be happy?  I'm certain he wishes he could be with you and make you happy all the time, but since he cannot, why would he not want you to be with someone who will do that in his stead?" 

I finally began to see what he meant. "I'm afraid it does not work that way, Ashok."

He frowned.  "Why not?  When you agree to have only a portion of his time, it is because you want him to have the other life he wants, yes?  The life he needs to be completely happy.  Why would he not do the same for you?"

"His other life does not make him as happy as being with you would make me," I tried to explain.

"So he would rather keep you unhappy than too happy? I do not understand this."

His argument sounded so much like those made countless times by my friends, I was tempted to believe he was coached, but one glance at his earnest face told me he spoke from the heart.

"It's not as simple as that, Ashok.  And leaving H. aside for a moment, there is no reason why you should be with anyone who doesn't place you first in their life."

"Is that not what you decided to do?  Why can I not do the same?"

I was at once frustrated and bemused at how simple he was making everything seem, when it was anything but.

"I decided to be with H. after he got married because I fell in love with him many years before then, and I decided that a little bit of him was better than nothing.  But you have only known me for two weeks.  It's too soon for you to make a decision like that."

He shook his head. "With Pankaj, I knew right away that he was a kind and caring man.  I knew right away that he looked out for me and did his best to help me and make my life better.  None of those things changed over time.  It was only because I was so young when I arrived in Dubai, and because I still didn't understand that love between two men was possible, that made us wait so long to be together. Now I am a man, and I know and feel things I could not when I was a boy. And I know already you are exactly the same as Pankaj was. I know you love another man, but even if I'm not the first in your heart, I will be first in your life.  I will have more time together with you than he ever will. This will make me happy and I believe it will make you happy too.  Why can I not choose this?" 

I had to think hard to come up with a reasonable rebuttal. "I think you may be making your choice because I am here and you have not met any other single gay men, men who would put you first in their heart. I understand that you're feeling uncertain, and a relationship with me may make you feel safe, but you should really try meeting and dating other men before you make your choice," I said weakly, because the thought of him choosing another man and leaving set off another bout of painful jealousy.

"I do not see a point of searching for something I already found.  If I was back home in India, my parents would arrange a marriage for me to a woman, one I probably would not know very well and one I certainly would not want. That's what Pankaj's father tried to do to him after the last of Pankaj's siblings left the house and his parents no longer needed the money from his job.  His father ordered him to return to India to marry.  When Pankaj refused, his father was very angry and said Pankaj was no longer his son, and told him to never contact his family again.  I was sad for Pankaj.  It is no easy thing to lose a family.  Even though it hurt me, I told Pankaj that he didn't have to stay in Dubai for me.  I told him that he could go back to India and marry, and then find a man who makes him happy to be with the way you are with H.  Pankaj refused.  He told me only a fool turned away from certain happiness in the hope of finding something that made him happier, and that he was not a fool.  I am not a fool either."

I could certainly see that Ashok was no fool.  In fact, he was wise beyond his mere twenty years.  I couldn't argue with his logic without acknowledging that the man I loved would rather I was miserable and alone, than only partially his.  That had certainly been clear enough when he objected to the similar arrangement proposed by Kinkaid. Back then I had given in, too afraid to lose him.  Now that things had deteriorated between us, the fear wasn't as overwhelming.  Perhaps it was time to revisit the concept which had, after all, been one of my conditions going into this arrangement in the first place.

"Are you sure you would not mind knowing that from time to time I would be with another man?"

Ashok looked away. "Do you not mind knowing that H. is with his wife?"

"I do.  Of course I mind.  I hate it!" I replied vehemently. 

"And yet that sacrifice is worth it because you love being with him more?" he answered my question with a question. "I will be getting more in the bargain than you get from him.  And your happiness will bring me happiness."

Once again he overwhelmed me with his selflessness. I recalled the time Kinkaid had tried to suggest a similar arrangement.  At the time, I convinced myself that only a man who didn't care about me much would be willing to agree to a shared arrangement, and it made turning down the offer that much easier when H. forbade it.  Now, however, I was faced with proof that the opposite could be true. Ashok was willing to share me with H. because he cared about me and my happiness.  The concept was almost too foreign for me to grasp, except when he showed me that it was exactly what I had done for H., without even recognizing it as such.

"All right," I said with a sigh. "I understand what you are saying. But I will have to tell H. what we are doing.  I will not go behind his back."

"That is between you and him," Ashok nodded.  "I would not suggest that you should lie to him about me."

"But you have to understand that he may not agree.  A few years ago there was an occasion... A man I had been with before H. and I reunited came back into my life and proposed something similar.  H. absolutely refused to consider it," I said, some of my bitterness seeping into my words.  Ashok's words brought a certain amount of clarity to my hindsight that hadn't been there before.  "He may refuse to consider it now as well."

He nodded, looked down into his lap and tried to pull his hands away, but I held onto them fast as I continued speaking, "I do not want to lie to you.  I don't know what I will do if he refuses.  The last time I turned the other man down. Things had happened in our past that made turning him away easier than it might otherwise have been..." I didn't want to continue because I didn't even want to voice the possibility that I might choose to turn down his offer if that was what H. demanded, even though both of us knew what was left unsaid.

"When will you tell him?" Ashok looked at me with eyes full of hope.

"I will see him Thursday afternoon," I replied indirectly. 

"So Thursday night we'll know," he concluded.  It was my turn to nod and then, on impulse, I released his hands to pull him into my arms. 

"No matter what happens Thursday, you have to know it has nothing to do with you.  I have always been a fool where H. was concerned, from the very beginning, and I may turn out to play the fool again, but it will not be because you are not worthy of love and caring.  You very much are!  And whether we are together after this or not, I swear it will be my goal to make sure you are as happy as you possibly can be.  Okay?"

I felt his head moving against my chest in affirmation. We clung to each other as my mind drifted to the unknown future.  I'd just made an important promise and it didn't escape my notice that it meant I might someday, perhaps even in the not too distant future, have to share him with or give him up completely to another man.  I clutched him even tighter, not liking that thought at all.  If that time ever came, I wasn't at all sure I could be as selfless as the man I held in my arms.