Chapter 22

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Chapter 22: Breakthrough

The drone of the alarm the next morning was almost nearly drowned out by the steady pounding inside my skull.  Somehow remembering that Ashok had set out water and aspirin for me the previous night, I flipped onto my stomach, reached to my nightstand and patted my hand around until I found both.  I popped the aspirin into my mouth and lifted my head to take a drink, letting out a groan as I did from the pain and vertigo caused by the motion. Ashok stirred beside me.  He placed his hand on my back and moved it in slow circles.

"You are still sick," he stated. 

"Not sick, just hung over," I clarified. "Nothing I don't deserve after the way I behaved last night."

I set the glass back on the nightstand and let my head fall back onto the pillow, trying to ignore the relentless, throbbing pain.

"I will make you tea and toast, and then you should go back to sleep," Ashok advised.

"It's Friday. I have to go to work."

"You cannot. You are sick."

"Nothing a shower and some coffee won't fix. I'll be all right." 

Slowly, I dragged myself up and out of bed and into the bathroom. The reflection of my haggard face and bloodshot eyes told me that everyone who saw me would instantly know what I'd been up to last night, but that wasn't a good enough reason to reward my irresponsible behavior with a day off.  I operated on autopilot as I showered, dressed, ate breakfast, and then, as always, walked with Ashok to the Tube. He still looked concerned but had given up trying to convince me to stay home. 

"I will make something special for you for dinner tonight," he told me as we boarded the train at Gloucester Road.  

"No need, Ashy. Whatever you made yesterday is fine."

"I brought the food from last night for me and Vince to have at lunch today," he said, pointing to his bag. "I want to cook you a special dinner," he insisted.

I stopped trying to dissuade him, because I knew it would be pointless.  When it came to my requests for him not to do things for me, I found Ashok had very selective hearing. Instead of arguing, I just enjoyed having him pressed against me in the crush of morning commuters, and gave him a quick kiss goodbye before we parted at the Victoria Station stop.    

Work that day was pure hell. It took until mid-morning for the pounding in my head to settle to a dull roar, and even longer for me to be able to concentrate on anything. The knowing glances, smirks and not-so witty comments from my co-workers didn't help. I skipped lunch to avoid interactions with people, settling for a chocolate bar and a bag of crisps from the machine. I was finally starting to feel better, but nowhere near good enough to do anything other than watching the telly and having an early night at home.  I knew if I did that, Ashok would want to stay with me, and that wasn't fair to him at all. A guy his age deserved to spend his Friday night out enjoying London nightlife. With me out of commission and Greg out of the country, there were only two men who could ensure that Ashok had a fun but safe night out.  My plan formed, I quickly called Vince, before Ashok had a chance to leave his flat to come back to ours.

"How are you surviving your day?" Vince greeted with a chuckle.

"Just barely.  Thanks for picking me up last night.  I owe you one," I told him.

"It was nothing, mate.  You'd do the same for me," he dismissed.

"You know I would. But listen, I need to ask you another favour.  Is Ashok still there?"

"He is, though he's getting ready to leave."

"Good.  I mean, good that he's there, not the leaving part.  Listen, I was going to take him dancing or to a pub or something tonight, but I'm done in.  I can't even stand the thought of going out.  Any chance you and Dré could include him in your plans?" I knew Dré and Vince typically spent their weekend nights out, and hoped this one would be no different. 

"We could do, definitely, except..."

"It's just one night, Vince.  With Greg out of the country, I have no one else to ask. Please?"

"It's not that, Rick. It wouldn't be any trouble at all to take him with us, but I doubt very much he'll agree.  He's practically spent the whole day planning a dinner for you.  Short of physically restraining him, I don't think I could convince him to stay here."

I sighed. "Could you try anyway, Vince? He listens to you. Maybe tell him about the other cute young boys he could meet at the clubs?  How much fun he could have?" 

"Hang on a moment," he said. I heard the background sounds change, signaling that he'd moved to the balcony overlooking the Thames. "That's better.  Now I know I won't be overheard."

"Oh-oh," I said worriedly. Vince didn't usually dispense advice that had to be given out of others' hearing range.  I had a feeling he was doing so now more to protect Ashok than me.

"Vince, I know you like Ashok and you don't have to tell me I'm bad for him.  I already know that.  That's why I want you to take him out tonight, so he can meet other people and maybe find someone else to focus on, someone better for him."

"Rick, if I didn't know any better I'd think you were still drunk from last night, hearing you talk like that.  Why the hell would I think you're bad for the kid?  I see his face light up every time you come up in conversation, which is often, 'cause he hardly talks about anything or anyone else. I saw how sad and scared he was in Dubai, and he's like a different man now, all because of you. If you ask me, and I'll tell you even though you didn't ask, you're the best thing that’s happened to Ashok since Pankaj died."

"But you know my situation, Vince. He deserves better," I protested weakly, as surprised by his assessment as I was by the strength of conviction I heard in his voice.

"That's not for you to decide.  Lucius Malfoy thought his son deserved better than me, and there'd be plenty who'd agree with him, but that wasn't his call either."

"Vince, this is different and you know it."

"I know we all think you deserve better than H., have for years, but you haven’t listened to us. Why shouldn't Ashok make his choices, the way you and the rest of us have?"

"Because he's so young, and he's vulnerable right now," I tried to justify.

"Which brings me to my other point. He is all of those things and he's relying on you. Why the hell are you trying so hard to push him away?  This is a kid who would do just about anything for you, wants to do about anything for you.  How can you be so stupid as to cast all that aside for a man who probably wouldn't acknowledge your existence if he passed you on the pavement?  Never mind how he treats you in private, though judging by last night, that's not much better."

"But Vince, what if Ashok's fascination with me is only due to the proximity?  I'm the first single gay man he's met since Pankaj died and there's no question he needs comfort. What if that’s the only reason he’s turning to me?" I cringed as I voiced a fear I had been too hesitant to fully acknowledge before.  

"Is that the real issue? Are you pushing him away because you're worried about getting hurt, rather than hurting him?" Vince didn't miss a thing. "If that's it..."

"No," I said firmly. "Obviously it's something I've thought about, but I really do want what's best for him."

"Then you'd best let him make up his own mind. Look, I'll invite him to go out with Dré and me tonight if you want, but I bet he won't have it."

I knew he was probably right, and asking him to interfere wasn't fair.  If I wanted Ashok to go out instead of coming home, it was only fair that I convince him myself. 

"Don’t say anything yet. I’ll call him first and do what I can to persuade him.  That shouldn't be your task and I was wrong to ask you."

"All right, let me know if he agrees so I can make the offer. And Rick?"

"Yeah, Vince?"

"If the kid wants to curl up with you tonight in front of the telly, let him.  It'll do the both of you a world of good."

"Sage advice as always, Vince. You should charge me for these sessions."

Vince laughed, "For you, they're on the house. The tenants, on the other hand, I charge double."

I laughed with him, but I wondered how many times he’d offered counsel while doing some maintenance task or another.  It wouldn't surprise me at all if the building manager was in part, if not largely responsible for the low tenant turnover in the Malfoy-owned building.

As I anticipated before he even picked up the phone, my efforts to convince Ashok to go out with Vince and Dré were entirely futile. 

"I do not wish to go out, but I will stay out of the way after dinner if you prefer to be left alone. I can go for a walk or read in the park," he suggested.

"No, Ashy, this is not about me wanting to be alone.  It's about you having a good time out on a Friday night, instead of staying at home like we have all week."

"But I like staying home with you. I am happy when I am with you, whatever we are doing."

"All right," I relented. "We'll have a quiet evening at home and we'll go out tomorrow night.  Just don't go to too much trouble with dinner, please."

The smells that greeted me when I got home would have made my mouth water even if I hadn't, for the most part, skipped lunch.  Ashok, who was busily working in the kitchen, fretted about being late. I gave him a quick kiss and a hug and told him to take his time while I changed out of my work clothes into something more comfortable.

"You could just take off your work clothes," he pointed out shyly. "That would be comfortable."

I couldn't help laughing.  "And eat this fancy meal you're preparing starkers while you're still fully dressed? That would offend my British sense of decorum.  Besides, what if I dropped something hot in my lap?"

"I could take my clothes off too," he suggested, "and we could use towels on our laps."

It had been a warm day and while the open windows let in a pleasant evening breeze, it was hot enough in the flat to justify shedding our clothes.  And the idea of losing all or at least more of the confining clothing was very tempting.

"Tell you what, naked dining may be going a little far, but we could strike a Homer Simpson compromise and eat in our underpants," I offered.

"Okay," he agreed eagerly.  

"Are you that anxious to see me with my clothes off?" I teased him, secretly pleased by his obvious anticipation.

"I am," his answer was refreshingly honest and straightforward.  "You look good in everything you wear, but you look best when you wear nothing at all.  Vince says he and Dré often spend evenings at their flat wearing nothing."

"Do they?" the information didn't surprise me, though it was the first time I heard it in all the years I've known them. Vince and Dré and I didn't exactly spend a lot of time discussing what they did as a couple when the rest of us weren't around. I couldn't help but wonder how that subject came up between Ashok and Vince.  I felt a brief surge of jealousy, momentarily wondering if they were getting too friendly, until I remembered the way Vince and Dré only had eyes for each other, regardless of who else might be around.  

"Well, we may have to work up to that," I told Ashok. "Let's keep our underpants on for now, right?  Though I will admit, you also look fucking good when you wear nothing," I whispered the last suggestively as I reached behind him to give his firm bum a healthy squeeze. He arched his body in surprise, bringing his crotch into full contact with mine. I could feel him getting hard and I knew I was too. For a moment I wondered if stripping down together this early in the evening and placing so much temptation on full display was a good idea, but then I remembered H.'s indifference to my feelings the previous night and his usual lack of communication since then, and I angrily dismissed any thought of tempering my behavior in deference to him. 

"I'll go change now, but you should probably keep your clothes on while you're in the kitchen. There are a few more hazards in here that merit more protection."

"Okay. It will only be a few more minutes."

I left him in the kitchen and made my way to the bedroom, where I first stripped off and put away my tie.  I put my socks and shirt in the laundry basket before I emptied the pockets of my trousers in preparation of taking them off as well. That's when I noticed the two condoms that I must have been carrying all day.  Frowning, I searched my memory for what they were doing there. I finally remembered placing them there upon my arrival at Grimmauld house the previous day, so as to be ready for anything when H. arrived.  Ashok must have taken them out when he emptied my trouser pockets the previous night and I must have absently put them right back in my pocket this morning, when my mind was still in too much of a haze to note what I was doing. Now, however, the haze was gone, and I could feel myself growing hard at the mere thought of how I could use these with the beautiful boy I could hear working in the kitchen. Of course, making love with Ashok before resolving things with H. would be extremely wrong. My cock, however, had difficulties distinguishing right from wrong.

Angry with my apparent inability to control my own body, I swiped the condoms from the top of the chest and walked over to my bedside table, tossing them into the drawer and hoping that once they were out of sight I could put them out of mind.  I sat on the bed and buried my head in my hands, unable to stop thinking about the hopelessness of my situation.

Unsurprisingly, H. had not tried to get in touch, but I had no idea if this was just the routine lack of communication or if he was following through on his threat to stop chasing me.  In a normal relationship I could have called him to talk things out, but that had not been possible for us in a long time, even when things were going well. Now the best I could expect was for him to actually show up at the appointed hour at his house next week or, if I decided not to go there, then to have him show up unannounced at my work or on my doorstep, when I least expected him.  Either way, he was in control. 

"Is your head still hurting? Should I get you an aspirin?" Ashok asked from the doorway, looking worried. 

"No, no," I stood up and smiled in an attempt to cover up my frustration.  "I'm fine.  Is dinner ready? What can I do to help?"

"It'll only be a few minutes longer. Have a seat on the sofa.  I will help you relax."

My eyebrow lifted at this statement, but he turned and was gone into the living room before I could ask any questions.  Extremely aware that I was only wearing underpants and grateful that my cock had softened up while I was contemplating my situation with H., I followed Ashok and sat on the sofa. He handed me a beer that he'd left on the side table.  

"Vince said to give you a beer because after a night like last night you may need a hairy dog."

I chuckled. "Hair of the dog," I corrected.  

"Yes, those are the words he used.  But he told me that I did not need to find a real dog, but only to give you a beer.  When I asked him to explain he just laughed and told me to ask you.  Rick, what do dogs have to do with beer?"

"Nothing at all, though I've met a few who liked beer as much as I do. Hair of the dog is an expression. The long version is that the hair of the dog that bit you is the cure for the bite. So if your problem was caused by drinking beer, another beer might help.  There’s no truth to it, but I won't turn down the beer."

Ashok smiled, still looking a little confused.  Then he dropped to his knees on the floor in front of me.  

"Um," I was about to protest, thinking he had something sexual in mind, when he reached for and lifted my foot.  With warm and surprisingly firm palms and fingers, he rubbed both the sole and top of my foot, massaging away all my stress and tension. I leaned back against the sofa cushion, closed my eyes, and let out a deep sigh.  

"That's quite a hidden talent you've got there," I told him. "Fuck, does that feel good."

He silently worked on one foot for a few minutes, and then set it down to lift the other.

"Pankaj taught me.  He used to rub my feet after long days, so I know how good it feels. I am glad I can do this for you." He set down my second foot and rose when the kitchen timer went off. "I will go get the food."

"I'll help," I said, rising as well. I noticed he'd already set the table, including glasses full of water, so there was nothing for me to do there.  I followed him into the kitchen and watched as he washed his hands, then pulled a foil tent off a platter on which rested a beautifully roasted chicken, nestled in a bed of roasted vegetables.  

"This is now ready to be served. The recipe said it had to rest for twenty minutes after cooking," Ashok explained.  "Should we have beer or wine with dinner?" he asked.

"Wine, I think.  I'll get it," I said, reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of his preferred Riesling.  He had tried Chardonnay and drank it when it was the only choice available, but the sweeter wine was still his favorite.  While I uncorked the bottle and took two glasses from the cupboard, he reached for a cutting board and sliced several slices of hearty, crusty bread. He looked to the microwave, which had been set as a timer.  Apparently satisfied, he picked up the chicken platter.  

"I'll take this if you can bring the bread and wine," he suggested.  The wine and glasses were already in my hand, and it was no trouble to grab the bread board with the other.  It took a little creativity to fit everything on the bistro table, and we compromised by taking our slices of bread and relegating the bread board to the coffee table, but otherwise we were all set and soon Ashok was carving the chicken and spooning roasted vegetables onto our plates. When he was done, he quickly ran into the bedroom and emerged a few minutes later wearing only his small briefs. 

"Now we are both comfortable," he announced, slipping into his seat.   

"This is absolutely delicious!" I exclaimed after taking my first bite.  "Seriously, better than in some restaurants I've been to. I can't believe you just started cooking a couple of weeks ago.  You have an amazing talent!" I raved.  Ashok flushed and smiled with pleasure.

"I am so happy you like it.  But I do not think I have any special talent. I just follow the instructions."

"If it were that easy, everyone would be a brilliant cook. Trust me, no instructions in the world could help me cook something this well." 

"I like cooking very much.  I especially like cooking for you and Vince and Dré, to thank you all for everything you have done for me."

"I'm sure they both appreciate it as much as I do.  With your cooking, Dré may even put on some weight," I chuckled at the thought.

"Vince will only let me cook for them twice a week," Ashok complained. "He says he does not want me to feel like hired help, but I do not ever feel this way.  I am grateful for his company when I cannot be with you." 

"I imagine he is grateful for your company as well," I posited.  "Not that Vince minds being alone, but I'm sure he appreciates having a friend to talk to."

"I am his friend and he is mine," Ashok announced as if he suddenly made a great discovery.  "Vince is my best friend. I talk to him about everything, even..." He paused suddenly, as if he'd said too much. I had a feeling he'd been about to confess he could even talk to Vince about me, but I had no interest in embarrassing him by forcing him to continue.

"That's what best friends are for.  I talk to Greg about everything," I agreed. "He, Viktor and Helena must be in Bulgaria by now. They love visiting Viktor's family."

We spent the rest of dinner talking about Viktor, football and Greg's work at the BBC. At one point the microwave timer went off and Ashok rushed to the kitchen, muttering, "Pudding."  He came back to finish eating and then we both took the dirty dishes back into the kitchen. I glanced at the hob and discovered that the familiar, spicy sweet aroma that wafted from the kitchen as we finished dinner was a cooling apple crumble.  He couldn't possibly have known, but this had always been my favorite. Without pausing to think, I deposited the dishes in the sink and grabbed him, pulling him into a deep kiss and close embrace.  

"You are amazing, just amazing! A dinner like that and my favorite afters!" 

He smiled so wide all his teeth were on display. "I made a custard to serve with it.  It's just in the refrigerator."

I kissed him again and then hugged him tightly, suddenly feeling young and light and joyful. This was the best Friday evening I'd had in a long time, just me and a super sweet guy doing nothing but relaxing and enjoying each other's company. The special dessert made it absolutely perfect.

We ate the crumble, topped with homemade custard, while sitting closely together on the sofa, watching the telly.  Ashok tried to take the dishes back to the kitchen when we were done, but I insisted that he leave them on the coffee table and pulled him into my side, where he snuggled contentedly under my arm. 

"I know I made it more difficult than it needed to be, but you planned a perfect evening for us, Ashok," I told him when the show we were watching was interrupted by a commercial.

"I think it is perfect too," he agreed.

"But tomorrow, I want to take you out. We'll go to a nice restaurant and have a lovely meal that, for once, you don't have to cook. Then we’ll go dancing.  Does that sound good?"

He hesitated before answering. "But I enjoy cooking for you, and I do not know how to dance."

"Dancing is easy.  I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time." 

I looked down at him when he remained silent. "You don't want to go?" I asked, a little disappointed. "I promise we'll have a good time."

"You enjoy dancing?" he answered my question with one of his own.  I could tell he was leaning towards saying yes, but only for my benefit.

"I do, and I think you would too.  Don't you even want to try?"  I remembered the first club I took him to during his first week in London and how he refused to go out onto the dance floor.

"It is embarrassing, not to know what to do.  Could you teach me?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course. I'll take the lead," I assured him.

"I mean, could you teach me here, tonight, where there is no one else to see?"

"'Um, yes, I suppose,” I said. "After the show is over, I’ll put on some music."

We finished watching the show and then, as promised, I plugged my iPod into the docking station and scrolled to find my dance playlist.  A song came on with the right beat and I motioned for him to come over.  Reluctantly, he rose and walked up to me. 

"Okay, first things first.  Before you do anything else, you have to feel the beat. Just close your eyes and listen to the song and if your body wants to move, let it.  I'm the only one here, so don't worry about how you look, right?  Just do what comes naturally."

He wore a dubious expression, but did as I asked.  At first, he simply stood in place with his eyes closed, but eventually he started to sway.  

"That's good, Ashy, keep going.  Don't think about it, just let the music guide your movement," I encouraged.  I moved to stand closely behind him and let my body move in tandem with his.

"This is not dancing," he complained, leaning back into me.  

"Not quite yet, but you're not far off. Once you feel the rhythm, your movements can get more exaggerated, like this," I demonstrated by placing my hands on his slim hips to keep him close to me and then circling my own.  

"Can you lift your arms and reach back to put them around my neck?" He did as I instructed, though he wasn't quite tall enough to lock his hands behind my neck.  He rested them on my shoulders instead, which was almost sexier. I immediately moved one of my hands to run over his chest and stomach as I continued grinding into his arse.  My other hand strayed from his hip to his thigh, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d be pawing his bulge.  

"Turn around," I said, trying to keep the evening about dancing. He lowered his arms and turned, his eyes still closed. I chuckled.  "You can open your eyes now."  

I immediately realized that may have been a mistake.  Wide open, his eyes were not only beautiful, but held a yearning for more than a dance lesson.

I took a deep breath and tried to force thoughts of sex from my mind. I focused on the dancing, giving Ashok instructions, which he followed to the letter.  Despite his initial fear, he was a natural, and he soon grew more confident in his movements.  The song changed to one with a faster tempo, providing some relief and making it even easier to concentrate on the dancing. We separated and I showed him how to dance alone, before demonstrating how others might approach him at clubs. This idea put a frown on his face.

"I do not want strangers to do that to me," he said with a shake of his head. 

"It's just dancing, Ashok, the way it's done in clubs.  It doesn't mean anything and everybody does it.  If you don't like a guy that grinds up on you, just dance away to someone else." 

Stubbornly, he shook his head again.  "I would not like this with men I do not know. Only you," he looked up at me, his expression both serious and hopeful.

"What about Vince or Dré?" I challenged.  He considered it, but then shook his head again. 

"It would not be right, even with friends."

I wanted to argue, but I could see from his posture and the firmness in his face that it would be pointless. He would just have to experience the crush of dancing bodies at a club for himself and decide there whether it was to his liking.  "You will come dancing with me, though, right?"

"If you will stay with me the entire time, then yes," he conceded.  "Though we could just dance here."

He probably didn't mean for that to be as seductive as it sounded, but the words, coupled with the way he stepped closer to me and put his arms around my neck, sent blood rushing directly to my dick. He had to lift up to his toes to reach around my neck properly, and that movement brushed his growing cock against mine. With both of us wearing only underwear, our perspiration slicked bodies clung to one another.  I knew it was dangerous, but I was turned on beyond caring and eagerly slipped my own hands around him to cup the twin firm globes of his arse and pull him even tighter against me.  I kneaded my fingers into his glutes and ground our groins together as I dipped my head to capture his lips and invade his mouth with my tongue.  I swallowed his whimper and plunged my tongue deeper, bending him back in my eagerness to possess him. He tasted like apples and cinnamon with a slight hint of the custard, and I thought that I could not find a better dessert.

"Rick, please! I want to feel you inside me so much," he said breathlessly when we broke the kiss. This time I had no excuses, nor any desire to make them.  I used my hands to lift his bum and he instinctively parted and bent his legs until they were wrapped around my waist, with his ankles locked together at the small of my back. He was so slight, it was easy to carry him into the bedroom, where I laid him on the bed. He untangled his legs from around my waist and tried to scramble on his back up towards the headboard, but I grabbed his waist and kept him in place. 

"You look so hot right now," I told him as I stared down at his near-naked body sprawled out on the bed. He smiled with pleasure, but shook his head. 

"You only say that because you cannot see how you look," he protested.

"I say it because it's true," I disagreed, slipping my fingers inside the waistband of his briefs and tugging them down his thighs.  He lifted his bent legs off the mattress so I could remove the underpants completely. His freed hard cock rested on his stomach, beckoning my mouth. The slightly darker skin of his scrotum was still loose, but I planned to soon change that, reaching for it with my hand and massaging the jewels hidden within. His half-sigh, half-moan only made me more eager and determined to make him feel better than he ever had before.  

I knelt at the foot of the bed and put my lips and tongue to work, carefully ratcheting up the level of his excitement and readiness without pushing him over the edge.  His openness and responsiveness made my task even sweeter than it already was. It had been a long time since I'd been with a partner so eager and welcoming, and so willing to let me take my time and guide our pace.  I used to love when H. took charge during sex, but lately he had stopped taking the time to make sure my needs were met and simply assumed I was satisfied. And while for the most part the act itself still served its purpose, his lack of care throughout, and especially afterwards, stung.  With Ashok, I didn't feel like a service provider. And while I sensed he would probably never feel comfortable taking control of sex the way H. or Kinkaid had, I believed that over time I could help build up Ashok's self-confidence enough for him to take the lead.  Until then, I was more than comfortable in that role myself, especially when his reactions made it so rewarding.    

By the time I was certain he was ready for me and that I'd taken him as close to the brink as I dared, I was nearly over the edge myself.  I stood and took off my underpants, freeing my achingly hard and profusely leaking member.  Ashok's passion-glazed eyes widened with a new wave of desire and his tongue darted out to lick his lips as I walked over to my bedside table to take out the lube and condoms. Before I could react, he scrambled onto all fours and moved towards me, pulling my cock into his open mouth.  I groaned with pleasure as my manhood sank into the wet, velvety warmth, feeling his tongue move back and forth against my sensitive frenulum.    

"Go slow, Ashy, or it'll soon be over," I warned him.  He looked up at me with those beautiful, deep brown eyes and blinked his understanding, slowing the movements of his tongue at the same time. After a little while I was able to relax and twined my fingers into his hair to hold his head steady as I began to flex my hips and fuck his welcoming mouth. I deliberately kept my thrusts slow and shallow, so as not to hurt or choke him.  I tried to watch his face for any sign of discomfort, though that proved too much of a challenge when I felt him swallowing my precum and my eyes involuntarily shut from the pleasure. I knew he was working hard to relax his throat and take me in deeper, and he was doing a good job, my shaft disappearing further into his mouth with every thrust. He still had an inch or so to go before he could say he swallowed me whole, but as good as his tight mouth and throat felt already, I had no reason to complain.  In fact, a few pumps later I found myself precariously too close.  I held his head in place as I jerked my cock out, fighting for restraint, breathing fast and shallow.  

"It's okay. I'm okay," I reassured him, brushing his cheeks with my thumbs when I saw him looking up at me with a worried expression. "It's just, you're too damn good at this.  I almost shot my load right then."

"I am glad you did not," he said, but he wore a pleased expression, apparently happy with the knowledge that he'd gotten me so close.  I wrapped my hand around my dick, close to the base, and brushed his cheek repeatedly with the engorged head, leaving a smear of precum on his cocoa skin. 

"Are you glad?  Is there something else you'd like me to do with this?"

"Please, Rick, put it inside me," he pleaded eagerly, his expression matching his tone.  If it was possible, I would have grown even harder at seeing that wanton lust on his face. 

"Yes, that's exactly where it wants to be," I concurred.  I released my cock to reach over for the condom and used both hands to rip the package and roll it on.  Ashok watched, fascinated. When I was fully sheathed and reached for the lube, he did a quick one eighty turn, remaining on all fours but presenting me with his tight little hole.  I had prepared and relaxed him before, but enough time had passed for me to want to make sure he was still ready.  I dribbled some lube into his crack and used my fingers to spread it first around the puckered ring of flesh and then inside him.  His complete lack of resistance told me all I needed to know.  I dribbled lube over the condom and used my hand to ensure even coating before I lined up my head with his entrance and pressed my hips forward to get inside.  My cock was thicker than even two of my fingers, so it took a moment to breach his ring of muscle, but I soon heard his gasp as I felt my head encased within him.  

"Are you okay?" I asked with concern.  The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. 

"I am so good," he replied, nodding without trying to look back at me.  "So full!"

"You're about to get fuller," I promised as I pushed further forward, then pulled back and pushed forward again, repeating the action until I heard his mewl and knew I'd brushed over his prostate. Pleased, I continued pumping, watching more and more of my length disappear into the tight confines of his arse until I was all the way in, my balls slapping gently against his. 

I felt incredible!  It had been years since I'd been inside another man, so long that I'd forgotten how amazing it could be. It was especially so with a partner like Ashok, who first demonstrated his pleasure silently, by pushing back to meet my every thrust, and then, with my encouragement, began to vocalize as well. He probably didn't even realize he was speaking in his native tongue, but I didn't need to know the words to understand his meaning.  His tone and body language communicated his feelings perfectly, and knowing how good I made him feel exponentially increased my own pleasure.  

As much as we were both enjoying our lovemaking, our position was not as intimate as I would have liked.  I frowned, wanting to make a change but, at the same time, reluctant to stop what I was doing.  Then I was struck by inspiration.  I leaned forward and peppered kisses over his back, trying hard to avoid tracing the two lines of scars. Slowing my thrusts a little, I wrapped my right arm snugly around his midsection and, holding him to me, tipped us over so we were both lying next to each other on our sides.  Ashok gave a surprised gasp while I quickly moved my hand from around his middle and slipped it under his knee, lifting his leg to give me better access to his arse.  

I started thrusting faster to the symphony of our ever louder moans. In this position, I couldn't thrust as deeply, but that only meant that I was closer to hitting his prostate with each push.  And for me, the increased friction propelled me ever closer to the abyss.  I knew we could not remain in this position long without both of us going over, so I had to move along with the last part of the plan as soon as I could or risk never getting there at all. Holding his leg aloft with my arm and pumping in and out without pause, I told him urgently that I was going to move again, and to just follow my lead.  Then I tightened my grip on him and rolled onto my back, pulling him on top of me. 

"Put your feet on top of my thighs," I said as I released his leg and immediately wrapped my arm around his stomach. When he planted his feet, I bent my knees and rested my own feet on the mattress for leverage, then sped up the pace again.  I never imagined anything would feel as good as this did. At this angle only about half of my length pistoned out of him, but that only served to increase the pressure against my frenulum and ensured that I was hitting Ashok's magic spot with every single thrust.  

"Turn to me, Ashy, and put your arm around my neck," I urged, lifting my head to make it easier for him to comply, which he immediately did.  This was my ultimate goal: to be able to turn my head and look into his eyes as I brought him to orgasm.  I didn't have to ask for him to bring his lips to mine. We kissed passionately, my tongue and cock filling him as best as I was able.  I could tell by the change in his breathing that he was getting closer and closer, which only spurred me on more.  Suddenly, he broke the kiss, shaking his head from side to side.  

"Rick, Rick! I can't help it!  I'm going to..." he all but shouted, obviously trying to stave off his orgasm.

"Come, Ashok!  Don't fight it, just come.  I want you to!" I urged.  With a small cry he tilted his head towards me again, kissing me and this time thrusting his tongue into my mouth.  I felt his body go rigid and then spasm as semen overflowed out of his cock and onto his stomach. I kept fucking him, watching a new spurt flow out each time I hit his prostate. The sight of his pooling jizz and the contractions of his arse were too much.  With his tongue still exploring my mouth I tensed as well and then blew out inside him, filling the condom with spurt after spurt.

I continued moving inside him long after both of us were completely spent, until I felt myself softening and worried about spillage.  We had stopped kissing and Ashok was just resting bonelessly on top of me, his head thrown back over my shoulder, his breathing only just returning to normal. I explained that I was going to move him onto the mattress next to me and proceeded to do so when he didn't respond.  I pulled off the condom and tied it off, tossing it carelessly beside the bed.  Then I turned onto my side and ran my finger down his chest, swirling it in the white pool of his emissions before bringing it to my lips.  

"You taste good," I told him with a soft smile. He looked at me and tried to smile himself, but didn't quite succeed.

"What's wrong?" I asked, confused. I'd done everything I could to make that good for him, and until that moment I would have sworn it had been exactly that.  "Did I hurt you?"

"No!" Ashok protested. "That was so much more than I have ever felt.  I did everything I could to hold off, but in the end I could not.  I am sorry!"

"Wait," I furrowed my brow, more confused than ever.  "You're apologizing because you came?  Why?!"

"Pankaj always wanted to be the one to give me pleasure.  He said it was his duty to make me feel good, since being inside me always made him feel good. Sometimes he would use his hand while we were having sex, but most often he would use his hand or mouth after.  He never wanted me to touch myself during sex. I would not have minded touching myself, but I knew it was important to him to be the one who made me feel good, so I did as he asked. As long as he or I did not touch me, I was fine holding off.  But tonight, even though I did not touch myself, I still could not stop.  I tried, but I could not!" he insisted apologetically.

I reached to his face and ran my knuckles up along his cheek, then used my thumb to try to erase the worry crease from his forehead.  I remembered numerous occasions when H. slapped my hand away from my cock during sex, wanting to be the one who brought me to orgasm.  I knew for him it was as much out of his need for control as out of a sense of duty to be the one who brought me pleasure, but I had a feeling that for Pankaj it was only the latter.  I felt even more respect for the man than I had before, but I was also very glad that apparently he wasn't a particularly skilled lover.  It thrilled me to know that I was the first to show Ashok it was possible to achieve a prostate stimulated orgasm without the need for manual handling.

"Obviously Pankaj was a very good man, and he loved you very much.  Not every man out there cares about his partner enough to insist that he is always the one to bring his partner pleasure.  But just so you know, when we're making love we'll only have one rule - we'll do what feels good.  If we try something and either one of us doesn't like it, we won't do it again.  And what that means is that if you want to touch yourself while we make love, and want to make yourself come, that's okay. I will always take care of you, with pleasure, if that is what you prefer, but it will be your choice. Right?"

Ashok nodded slowly, trying to understand the new ground rules.  "What if what I want is not what you want?" he asked cautiously. I thought back to the time when he wanted to make love and I objected. 

"I suppose sometimes we'll have to compromise, but that shouldn't be an issue very often.  And when we do compromise, we'll make sure neither of us has to do something we don't want to do. Does that sound good?"

"It does," he agreed. "It sounds perfect."

He didn't ask how H. fit into the perfect little picture I painted and I didn't bring it up either, though I thought about it as I leaned over Ashok and licked his torso clean.  The previous night it had been my intention to tell H. about what happened and to give him a choice. Assuming that H. wouldn't have chucked me immediately after finding out what had happened between me and the boy, I would have argued for continuing a relationship with both of them. However, if H. categorically refused to share me and agreed to make some changes in his behaviour, I probably would have gone along with his demand.  But making love with Ashok changed everything. I could no longer pretend that my feelings for him could be bottled up and set aside, and I certainly was not willing to hurt him by giving him that impression.  Through his thoughtless behavior, H. had just constrained his decision set. Having me all to himself was no longer one of his options.  Now he could only choose to share me with Ashok or leave me.  All that assuming, of course, that he hadn't chosen to leave me already.  Surprisingly, the cold reality of that alternative didn't have the impact on me that it would have only a few weeks before.  I now had someone in my life who actually had my best interest at heart, and I was no longer willing to regress to the empty life I'd led before Ashok came along. Not even for H.

We fell asleep cuddled up together and woke up the same way. After such a restful night, Ashok and I had a lovely, lazy morning at home, before finally deciding to venture out around noon. Since Helena and Greg were out of the country, we went out on our own and explored the Little Venice area before taking the waterbus along Regent's canal to Camden Lock.  At the lock I took Ashok to see the Camden Markets, which he likened to Emirati Souks.  We shared a quick bite at one of the food stalls and then browsed through the stalls picking up a scarf for Ashok and shirts for both of us.  Since it was still too early to go out, we went back to the flat to drop off our shopping.  I ignored Ashok's protests and insisted that we go out to dinner at a restaurant I liked in Covent Garden.  When we were done it was late enough to hit the dance clubs.  Having gained some confidence after our living room lesson, Ashok didn't seem as reluctant as he'd been before, though he was by no means eager. Once we were on the dance floor, however, he relaxed within the protective circle of my arms and let himself enjoy the music.      

Eventually we both took off our shirts and tucked them into the waistbands of our trousers, losing ourselves in a surprisingly intimate dance amid a sea of gyrating, sweaty men. We didn't let the crowd get in the way of our connection.  If anything, the men around us increased the erotic nature of our activities, so much so that when the cab dropped us off at the flat we could barely make it upstairs and lock the door behind us before we were stripping off each other's clothes and falling into bed for more of the chemistry we'd discovered the night before.

Sunday, after another lazy morning, Ashok announced that he wanted to go to the supermarket by himself.  I was surprised by the pang of disappointment I felt at hearing this, but he seemed determined to show me that he could handle the shopping by himself and I didn't want to interfere, so I let him go.  A few minutes later, I decided to try contacting Greg, needing some of his advice.  I was fortunate to catch him at the beach with a few minutes to spare.  Wasting no time, I thanked him for everything he did for me Thursday night and then filled him in on what happened since then. As I might have expected, Greg wasn't at all perturbed when he heard Ashok and I made love.  He said I was only doing what H. was doing with Ginny, and that if I was going to continue in my relationship with H. I deserved to be treated equally and find fulfillment in Ashok's arms when I wasn't with H.

Although I saw a lot of merit in Greg's argument, I knew he secretly hoped that H. would balk at the thought of sharing me with another man and leave me.  If I'd been forced to drink some truth serum, I would have admitted a large part of me hoped for the same thing. Perhaps for the first time, the thing that terrified me the most wasn't the thought of H. leaving. Instead, I was concerned about the kind of man I'd turned into while I'd been with him.  Once upon a time I was a decent fellow.  Not a paragon of virtue by any stretch, but certainly no pariah. Now, however, when I examined myself closely, I didn't like what I found. Ashok may have seen nothing but good in me, but I knew better.  I'd become a selfish prick, doing what was best for me at the expense of everyone around me.  I cheated on Jasper, I had an ongoing affair with someone else's husband and father, I was unfaithful to my lover and now I was contemplating simultaneously having a relationship with two men, one of whom, at least, was entirely too sweet to be caught up in something so sordid.   

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Greg, but it seems like there is this dark rain cloud following me and anyone who gets too close gets drenched, including you, mate.  You certainly haven't been spared in all the years that you've known me.  The only way you could find happiness was to get away from me," I pointed out. I could hear his heavy sigh even over the windy beach background noise.

"You're being a drama queen, and a self-absorbed one, at that.  If you ask me, that dark cloud that's been following you around has a name, and it's H.  Things always seem to go better in your life when he's not in it.  If you could just cut the cord, your life would be so much better."

"But what if what's done can't be undone?  What if I've rotted and changed permanently? What if I leave H. and begin a life with Ashok and then cheat on him too?  How do I know that I won't repeat the same old mistakes again?"

"Let me ask you this: when you were with Kinkaid and H. was out of your life, did you ever consider cheating on him with anyone?"

"No," I replied honestly.  "Didn't stop him cheating on me, though, did it?"

"No, but we're not talking about him. When you were with him you weren't thinking about other men.  And I know when you were with Jasper you weren't thinking about other men either, until H. shoved his way back into your life. He is the rot, the cancer.  Cut him out of your life and you will go back to the sweet, caring guy we all know you to be.  And when I say cut him out of your life, I mean totally and completely.  Never see him again, no matter how hard he tries to persuade you."

"You know that's so much easier said than done. He owns a part of my heart and soul, and he sure as fuck can control my body. I just don't know if I'm strong enough, especially when Ashok said that he wouldn't mind sharing."

"Well, I won't presume what's in the boy's head or try to speak for him.  I know that sharing would never work for me, and I know it doesn't make you happy to share H. with Ginny either, but then you get the short end of the stick in that arrangement.  Ashok would have much more of your time, so I suppose that's different.  And there certainly is no shortage of open and unorthodox relationships in the gay community, so you wouldn't even be that unusual.  The one thing I don't think you should do is break it off with H. as some supreme sacrifice for Ashok.  The boy hasn't asked for that and that's something you really have to do for you, not him or anyone else.  Otherwise someday you might look back and have regrets, and blame Ashok for things that weren't his fault. So if you want to give sharing a go, that's between you, him and H.  Only you have to tell H, right?  Or do you plan to keep him in the dark?"

"No, I wouldn't do that. I may be considering sleeping openly with two different men, but I'm done with secrecy and cheating."

"When are you seeing H. again?" Greg inquired. 

"Thursday, I suppose.  Right on schedule.  If he can be bothered to show up long enough to listen," I said bitterly. 

"You know that kind of talk would be best done out of the bedroom." 

"I know that, now more than ever." I took stock and realized that the conversation lifted my spirits, a fact which I decided to share.  "I don't know how you do it.  Really, nothing is any different, but I always feel better talking to you, mate." 

"Even though I'm a nagging ball ache?"  

"But you do it with such love," I teased.  

"There you are, then.  Have this conversation with Dré and you'll really see the difference," Greg suggested. 

"Made your bed, Diggory," I offered my best Dré impression. 

"Dré, is that you?" 

We chuckled together. 

"Daddy!  Daddy! Come in the water with us!" I heard Helena's excited plea nearby.

"Yes, I shall," he told her.  We took a couple more minutes to say our goodbyes and then hung up.  I sat on the sofa and finished my beer, still thinking about our conversation.  The idea of telling H. about Ashok terrified me, and I had no idea how I would convince him to agree to a sharing arrangement.  But when I heard the flat door open and saw the love and happiness in the eyes of my beautiful new lover, I knew that absolutely nothing less would do.