Chapter 3

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Chapter 3: Temptation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" I grew weary again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Vodka tonic with a twist."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shook his head and drank more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck, Ced. What a gorgeous view!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," I moaned. "Always."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Me too, Al. Me too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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