| |
Dare didn’t hear from Grant until the following Friday, and he was just beginning to worry Grant had bottled out, when the text came.
I’m outside. Dare dropped his tools and ran, only slowing down when he rounded the corner that put him in sight of the gate. Then he dropped to a casual stroll, drinking in the sight of Grant standing there, all smouldering sexiness in his dark suit and deep red shirt. Dare didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a vision of old-school handsome, but he was glad he hadn’t fucked it all up.
“Come back to my place,” Grant said when Dare got to the gate. “I want you to fuck me.”
Dare stared hard, but Grant didn’t waver. “We could do that here,” Dare said, mentally kicking himself for not leaping at the chance to see the inside of Grant’s pad again.
“You said I should feel totally relaxed and comfortable,” Grant insisted. “And I can’t ever feel totally comfortable on your bed. That thing should be condemned.”
“That thing has the best memory foam mattress money can buy.”
“That’s as may be, but it’s not a patch on a proper box spring. And my pillows are feather, which is a must if I’m going to be the pillow-biter.”
Dare laughed then and unlocked the gate. “Come on in, then. I’d better fetch some supplies.”
“No need. I’ve got everything we need at the flat. Top-of-the-range lube and everything.”
Dare had somehow been forgetting that Grant was an experienced top, even if he had a lot to learn as a bottom. “Okay, then. I guess I can come as I am.” He glanced down at his workmen’s trousers, complete with oil stains and tools poking out of his pockets. “You think I’ll pass muster if we run into one of your neighbours? Maybe they’ll think I’m a plumber or something.”
“Fuck the neighbours.”
“I’d rather fuck you.”
Grant raised an eyebrow. “I should certainly hope so.”
They walked along the riverside bank to Grant’s. It was that peculiar hour of dusk when all the reds and oranges glowed, even as the light leached out of the sky. Dare was glad Grant didn’t keep up the small talk. There was something fitting about the silence, and the still, mild evening air. His whole body thrummed with excitement, and he had to work hard to stop himself from linking arms with Grant. He had a feeling that wouldn’t go down so well, which was a shame, because evenings like this were made for walking along, arm in arm with your lover.
Your about-to-get-his-arse-cherry-popped lover. Dare grinned to himself, enjoying that sense of pride that Grant was going to let him be the very first. He’d been a couple of bloke’s firsts in the past—or so they’d said—but something about this felt even more special. Maybe it was just that Grant was such an unlikely candidate. Worlds away from the grungy, punky, alternative lads who normally tried it on with Dare.
Or maybe it was that irritating way Grant had got under his skin. The way the bloke had made Dare want him desperately, even though he absolutely wasn’t his usual type.
Dare was still pondering just what it was about Grant that had him wanting more, when he realised they were standing outside his building. He stared up at the windows he knew to be Grant’s. Then he bumped shoulders with Grant. “You ready for this?”
Grant took a deep breath. “Yes. I think so.”
“No disaster if it doesn’t work out,” Dare began, but Grant spoke over him.
“Let’s just see what happens, shall we?”
“Sounds good to me.”
The interior of the building was a little less brand-spanking-new now—after all, it had been a long time since Dare escorted a drunken Grant back from that party of Mas and Perry’s—but still immaculately clean. Jesus, what must Grant make of Dare’s dirty little caravan? They walked up the stairs together, the silence now growing oppressive. Why hadn’t they taken the lift? Was Grant really ashamed in case they ran into someone? Dare felt like he was being taken in the tradesman’s entrance, and had to remind himself they’d entered via the front door.
And that he was the one about to be taking Grant up the tradesman’s entrance.
The thought restored his pride, and he walked up the last few steps with a swagger.
“So, do you want a drink first?” Grant said the moment they got inside.
“Not really.” Dare glanced around the room. It looked pretty much the same as he remembered it: bland neutral colours and a kind of show-home ambiance. But the furnishings were at least comfortable and well made, and the large framed photograph on the wall caught his eye again. The one that showed the Clifton Suspension Bridge spanning the gorge, hot air balloons dotted in the sky above. “Nice picture,” Dare commented.
“Thanks.” Something smug in Grant’s tone suggested the picture might have been more than just a canny purchase.
“Is it one of yours?” he asked.
“I took it during the Balloon Fiesta a couple of years back.”
Dare walked up and studied the picture properly. He was no photographer, but he could tell it was an excellent piece of work. The detail and the colours were stunning. “You’re good,” he said, but left it at that. Grant’s ego really didn’t need inflating any further. “I must get up there again sometime. Used to love hanging out on the bridge when I was a teenager. Dropping empty beer cans down into the river below, and timing how long it took them before they splashed.”
“You dropped litter?” Grant sounded disgusted. Of course, he was a parent and probably had to drum those sorts of values into his kids, the same way Dare’s mum had tried to do.
“It was a long time ago,” Dare muttered and looked around the room again. The door to the tiny kitchen was open, and there were only three others to choose from: two next to each other on one wall, and a single door on the other. He seemed to remember the master bedroom had been the door by itself, and headed over.
“Not that way.” Grant grabbed Dare’s arms and hauled him in the opposite direction. He indicated the door to the right. “That’s the bathroom, if you need it,” before pushing open the other door.
Dare blinked, puzzled. The bedroom on the other side was nothing like he remembered from his brief glance, admittedly almost twelve months ago. Far smaller for a start. The king-size bed filled up nearly all the floor space, and the only other items of furniture were two small bedside tables, and a built-in, mirror-fronted wardrobe on the wall adjoining the bathroom.
This was a spare bedroom, surely?
The snobbish bastard. Dare spun around and marched right out, across the living room.
“Where are you going?”
“If I’m doing this, I want it to be on the best bed in the house.” Dare flung the door open and stopped short.
He was still gaping at the room beyond when Grant came up and put his arms around Dare’s waist. “It would be way too weird to do it on a bed covered in some god-awful boy band’s faces.”
“You gave up your bedroom for your daughters?”
“It seemed like the best thing. They need the space more than I do.”
“But you’re only having them, what, four nights a month?”
“It stops them arguing. Anything for a peaceful life when they’re here.” The words sounded flippant, but Grant’s tone was too affectionate to really believe that was his only motive.
Dare’s dad had never given up his large room for him and his brother. Not even when they were both teenagers and constantly arguing. They’d been crammed into bunk beds right up until Dare moved out. His eyes threatened to tear up at the confirmation of the kind of man Grant really was. He might have fucked some things up—and who didn’t?—but he wasn’t a heartless bastard by any stretch of the imagination.
What was this feeling, welling up inside him, unwanted but overwhelming? Shit, was Rain right? Maybe he really was in love. And it took looking at a pink, girly bedroom to tip him over.
He was such a fucking sap.
When Dare finally got mastery over his feelings, he turned round to find Grant studying him.
“You okay?” Grant asked.
Bravado. That’s what was called for in situations like this. “I’m fine.” Dare went to bounce up and down on the bed with the pink-and-green quilt. “Hmm, I think we might be a bit pushed for space on a mattress this size. Let’s go to your room. I want room to spread your legs really wide while I plough your arse.” And yes, it would have been wrong to get it on in the bedroom Grant had so lovingly furnished for his daughters.
“It’s no smaller than some of those camper van beds you’ve had me on,” Grant said, quirking a smile at Dare.
“Yeah, but those weren’t all pink and frilly. I want to do you in a man’s bed. Not a little girl’s one.”
“Good. I’ll go and get myself comfortable.” Grant walked off through the open door.
Dare took another moment to compose himself. He wasn’t about to go telling Grant the way he felt—that was asking to be torn down in flames. But he had this horrible feeling it would all end up leaking out in his face anyway. He wasn’t exactly practised at hiding his emotions. Never normally had to.
He’d just have to fuck Grant from behind, which had its plus points, but then again, he really wanted to be able to see the look on Grant’s face when he finally took Dare’s cock.
But lust would save the day. Dare walked out of the room, psyching himself up to be the top Grant had never dreamed he needed. The one who could show Grant just how amazing it was to let go and be fucked. To milk so much pleasure out of him it would blow his mind, and he’d become a total slut for Dare’s cock.
And maybe he’d even grow to love Dare back, just a little. Stranger things had happened, after all.
Grant stripped his clothes off rapidly, not wanting to lose his nerve. For some reason, it had become a matter of pride that he show Dare he could do this. He could take it like a man and learn to love it. After all, everything they’d done so far had been amazing.
Grant crawled onto his bed and threw himself on his front. But then he wouldn’t get to see anything, which would be a tragedy. The sight of Dare fucking him was going to be a turn-on—he knew that already. So he rolled onto his back instead. But wasn’t that meant to be a trickier position for a first timer? He rolled over onto his front again, pillowed his head on his arms, and this time concentrated on trying to relax himself. The words of the bearded hippie course leader on some dreadful stress management workshop he’d once been forced into came back to him, and he started counting as he exhaled, trying to breathe deeper and longer.
“Mmm, looking good,” came Dare’s gruff voice from the doorway.
Grant turned his head and managed a smile.
“Still tense?” Dare asked, and Grant shook his head, then thought better.
“A bit. But I suppose everyone is the first time, aren’t they?”
Dare looked up at the ceiling and shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, I was so sodding desperate to find out what it was like, I kind of threw myself at the first toppy bloke who came along and offered him my arse on a platter.”
“And it worked out all right? I mean, did he go for you?”
Dare smiled and shook his head. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about the way things work among gay men, haven’t you? Of course he bleedin’ well went for me. Him and his boyfriend. I was just lucky they knew what they were doing and prepped me well, or I probably wouldn’t have been able to sit down for days after.”
Grant pushed himself up on his elbows. “You think I’ll have problems sitting down tomorrow?” That wouldn’t be much fun, but at least it was the weekend and not a workday. He’d have to put in a request for a standing desk if they started doing this kind of thing more regularly.
“You’ll be fine. I’m exaggerating, really. I’ve never not been able to sit down. I mean, I expect you’ll know you’ve been fucked, but it’s not going to be a constant, throbbing reminder or anything. Just the odd twinge, hopefully.”
“Oh.” For some reason, Grant felt vaguely disappointed. “Mas always used to tell me he could feel me for days afterwards.”
Dare gave him an evil grin. “He was probably exaggerating to flatter you. We both know he tells the odd porky, after all.” Dare grabbed hold of Grant’s toes.
“Okay, you’ve got a point there.”
“I know. And it’s getting bigger, looking at you all laid out and waiting for it.” Dare stroked the outline of his erection through his trousers, and Grant’s mouth dried out.
“You’ll make sure I’m ready...” he began, and Dare gave him an unexpectedly tender smile.
“You know I will. Have I ever not looked after you?”
“No, but...” Grant wasn’t sure about the whole concept of being looked after. That was normally his job. But then again, it felt good to let Dare take the reins for a while. It wasn’t like it meant Grant had to let that happen anywhere other than behind closed doors.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Dare said, walking over and sitting on the side of the bed. “Come on, just give yourself up to it and relax. I’ll make sure you have a good time. I promise.”