Finishing off, Nathan ripped open the foil and rolled the latex down Jaymes’ length. Pushing the remaining lube from his fingers into his backside, he positioned himself over Jaymes and lowered gently, his eyes rolling back into his head and closing.
“Oh fuck, that feels so good,” moaned Jaymes as Nathan lowered all the way onto his length and waited for a few moments before rising slowly, his hands braced against Jaymes’ chest.
“Mm-hmm.”
After a dozen or so more times, moving slowly and savouring every tiny pleasurable sensation, Nathan almost missed Jaymes’ deep murmur.
“Look at me, Nate.”
Nathan opened his eyes and saw such intensity in Jaymes’ eyes, such trust and tenderness, that he almost forgot to breathe. Craning forward, he wrapped his arms lightly around Jaymes’ neck and brought their mouths together. After taking his fill, he stopped moving, pulled back and smiled at Jaymes.
“Your turn, big boy. Show me what you’ve got,” he said, allowing Jaymes to move into him at his own pace.
Jaymes needed no encouragement. With a guttural rumble in his chest, he brought his knees up and pounded hard, his strong arms around Nathan’s waist, holding him in place. Jaymes responded with such ferocity that Nathan almost lost his balance before locking his arms behind Jaymes’ neck. Jaymes responded by pulling him closer, until Nathan’s cock rubbed up and down Jaymes’ stomach.
“God, Jay. I—I think I’m going to—”
Panting with pleasurable exertion, Jaymes came first, thrusting into Nathan and holding there, releasing a long, raspy growl of ecstasy. Nathan followed right behind, still rubbing against Jaymes’ body and spurting shot after shot of warm cum onto Jaymes’ chest and neck.
Both collapsed again, Nathan slowly rolling off Jaymes until they lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.
“We should get some sleep,” said Nathan. “I’ll get a wet cloth to clean us up.”
Nathan moved to the door and stopped. A sudden nervousness filled him when he turned to witness Jaymes studying him, a grin on his face.
“Will you sleep in here tonight?” asked Nathan.
The absurdity of the question was not lost on him. After everything they’d just done, he felt nervous about having Jaymes sleep next to him.
“Unless you want me on the couch?”
“No, I—” said Nathan, a smile finding its way to his lips. “No, definitely not. I want you here.”
Five minutes later, as they settled beneath the sheets, Jaymes lined his body up against Nathan’s spine, his knees tucked into Nathan’s, an arm around his waist. Nathan had never felt so comforted.
“I could get used to this.”
In response, Jaymes simply kissed the back of his neck. While his bedside clock ticked out seconds and minutes, Jaymes’ gentle breath in his hair slowed as he fell asleep. Nathan forced himself to stay awake, wanting to savour every last minute with naked Jaymes in his bed because he felt sure this wouldn’t last. Nothing ever did.
Soon, tiredness overtook him and he descended into dreams of laughter, freedom and possibility.
Chapter Eleven
Solicitor
Nathan woke alone. Evidence of Jaymes’ presence the night before was imprinted on the pillow next to him. The rest of his side of the bed had been tidied. Momentary disappointment caught him, but he sighed the feeling away. As quality of sleep went, last night’s had been nothing short of incredible. Waking more fully, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Certain parts of his anatomy bore a delicious soreness. If he were going to be brutally honest, he would have liked to have woken up next to somebody. But Jaymes, being Jaymes, would have gotten up and left. They’d had a roll in the hay, nothing more.
He curled onto his side and was about to yawn when something caught his attention. Faint but unmistakably pleasant odours of cooking. Was that the smell of fresh coffee brewing? And bacon frying? And the sound of music playing?
Perching on the side of the bed, he went to reach for his dressing gown on the back of the door, only to find the garment missing. Instead, he fished out tracksuit bottoms and a baggy tee from the wardrobe and hurried to the front room.
Nathan’s barely functional kitchen table had been given an Impressionist makeover. Set with a simple white tablecloth, placemats, cutlery, butter, and preserves of marmalade, blackberry jam and Marmite—where the hell had he found that?—a basket of fruit and croissants as well as cartons of orange and grapefruit juice, the surface resembled a quality hotel room breakfast. Jaymes had even collected the Sundays from the front mat and arranged them at a place setting.
“You’re in the wrong profession,” said Nathan, smiling at the sight. On the wall above the table, the kitchen clock read nine-fifteen.
“Morning, sexy,” said Jaymes, turning from the stove and grinning. Sexy himself, he wore Nathan’s white towelling gown. “Told you I love cooking, especially when I’ve got more than a camping stove to cook on and someone to cook for. And I found everything I needed in your itsy-bitsy kitchen. Sit yourself down. How do you take your coffee?”
“Milk with one, please.”
