Donnie’s flat was small but cosy and tidy. Best of all, Will thought, but wasn’t sure how to express, it was full of Donnie-type things. Paperback romances he was reading, with bookmarks tucked into them made out of recipe cards. A football scarf signed by the community centre team from when they won last year’s local league. An apron with a naked male torso on the front; a pile of brightly coloured drinks coasters; movie ticket stubs tucked behind one of those Chinese cats with the big grin and a waving arm. Apparently Maisie had bought him the cat last Christmas as a good luck charm. It still had a blob of toffee welded to its nose from where the sugar thermometer had blown up during Donnie’s Boxing Day experiments with toffee apples.
Donnie made them a meatball dish. At least, that’s what he said it was. Some of the meatballs were the size of peas, some like flat tennis balls. Donnie apologised before Will had even started eating but Will didn’t know why: it tasted fabulous. He knew he shouldn’t, but he took a second helping regardless, plus a lot of garlic bread. The bread slices were very ragged round the edges, but that gave them an extra crunchiness.
Donnie’s day had been so dreadful, Will thought he should probably leave after dinner, but Donnie didn’t seem to expect it. He wouldn’t let Will wash up, then bustled about in the kitchen, clearing away. So, Will sat for a while on Donnie’s rather lumpy sofa, updating some papers for work on his phone.
“You’re meant to be off duty.” Donnie sidled onto the sofa beside him, leaned over and kissed him.
Oh yes. It was marvellous. Every time. Will loved the taste of garlic on Donnie’s lips, the slick but gentle touch of his tongue. He dropped his phone on the side table, next to a lurid looking paperback he’d been curiously side-eyeing, slipped an arm around Donnie’s shoulders and tugged him in closer. With a shared chuckle, they leaned back on the sofa.
Donnie had quickly picked up on Will’s nervousness and didn’t push too hard. It was yet another reason Will was so taken with him. Will wasn’t a prude; he wasn’t in any way reluctant to have sex with Donnie. God, no way! That didn’t explain his situation at all well. But he was still jumpy like a bloody baby faun.
He’d left his last practice full of pain and anger and humiliation. The owner was a respected, experienced vet himself, and at first Will had been honoured to be brought into the business. And then he started to feel uneasy around his boss. Encouraging taps on the shoulder started to linger; a guiding hand on his back became unpleasantly possessive. Will took pains to avoid being alone with him, while he tried to decide what to do. Until the day he couldn’t avoid it, and the guy had cornered him in his office and tried to push a grasping hand down Will’s trousers. One very anguished and furious argument later—full of his boss’ blustering threats and denials—Will had given his resignation.
No one had listened to his accusations with any credence. He’d worked out the rest of his time on secondment at another, nearby, practice.
He’d mentioned this briefly to Donnie, but not in great detail. Why bother? It was meant to be over and done with. He was starting again, here at his own practice. Now he wanted to be bold and proud of his sexuality, to bring his confidence and experience to bear in the same way as he did in his work. He really didn’t want the sudden touch of a hand on his hip or his neck to make him startle. But it did.
But now, with Donnie?
Donnie somehow, innately realised this. Whatever Will said, or didn’t, Donnie had taken every step gently and respectfully. Not that they weren’t excited by each other: there was no mistaking the firm, easy way that Donnie caressed him tonight. Will was beginning to realise this was one area where Donnie knew exactly what he wanted and liked, and he was teaching Will to be the same. With a sudden rush of pleasure, Will relaxed back on the lopsided cushions, his hand on Donnie’s head as Donnie slid to his knees on the rug at the foot of the sofa. Donnie reached slowly but surely to Will’s waist and flipped open the button and zip of his jeans.
“You’re wonderful,” Will blurted out.
Donnie smiled, his hand slipping in under the open flap, brushing the front of Will’s underwear. “Sez you, with your dick about to meet my mouth.”
“Is it?” Will’s whole body flushed with excitement.
“If you want that.”
“Yes. God. I mean. Oh yes.” What was it about being here with Donnie that made Will feel like an inarticulate teenager again?
“Because whatever we do, it’s okay,” Donnie said softly, his palm gentle on Will’s cock. “Just tell me if you want to go slow. We can do whatever you like, when you like.”
It felt like a gift. Donnie said it so easily, that he wouldn’t mind what they did or didn’t do, even though Will could see Donnie was as excited as he was himself. Donnie’s cock was a thickening bulge inside the front of his jeans.
“I don’t need to be so cautious, I know,” Will said haltingly. “Not of you. But… sometimes I am.” Is that arsehole of a boss going to mess up my future as well as my past? The thought hit him with unusual viciousness.
“Will.” Donnie’s voice was soothing, his touch firm but not demanding. “I just like having you here. You don’t have to explain being cautious.”
Donnie didn’t say “nervous”. He didn’t say “cowardly”. He didn’t sound judgemental at all, that a near-forty-year-old man was skittish around sex. Will felt a strange tightening in his chest. It wasn’t a coronary, thank God, though that would probably be his mother’s brusque professional diagnosis. Not that he was going to tell her about this—about Donnie on his knees, smiling up at him, his hand cradling Will’s balls. But the sudden clench startled him with its savagery. He thought he recognised a mix of gratitude, astonishment, and something much stronger than attraction. It wasn’t something he’d ever felt before.
Donnie squeezed gently, maybe more enthusiastically, and licked his lips.
Feelings of the heart could be examined later. For now, Will didn’t want Donnie to think he was hesitating because he wasn’t keen.
“I want to fuck you,” he said simply. “To be fucked by you. Whatever’s on offer. If I’ve been ambiguous in that, I’m sorry, because I’ve wanted you since the first day I met you.”
Donnie paused and his eyes shone. The pupils looked dilated.
Do I look as sexy as that? Will thought. He couldn’t imagine it. He wondered if Donnie could feel his pulse speeding up, right through his cock. But everything he said was true. Since that fateful day on the pavement outside the shops, Will could barely take his eyes off Donnie, whenever they were together. He worried that Donnie would catch Will staring all the time, would think he was weird. Donnie seemed to have no idea how good he looked, how handsome he was. Even in the sometimes eye-wateringly exotic clothes he wore. Slim, lithe, big eyes, long lashes, expression always kind. His mouth not just generous in shape but in his smiles, too. Will looked down now at the man between his knees and his heart jumped with need.
“I don’t want to screw this up, Donnie. I don’t want to say the wrong thing, yet I want to tell you how I feel. I like you a lot—you must know that—and it makes me stupid sometimes.”
Donnie gave a shaky bark of a laugh. “You? You’re not stupid. You run a professional business. You deal with clients and animals, and…”
“Parrots?”
Donnie’s laugh was warmer. “I was going to say, medical matters. You trained for years. You’re smart as well as sexy.”
“But so are you.”
“Yeah. Right.” Donnie’s gaze dropped away.
Had he annoyed Donnie? No, surely not. Donnie was always at ease. Will ran his hand through Donnie’s hair and watched how Donnie’s head dropped back willingly when Will tugged daringly.
“You said… you think I’m sexy?” Listen to him, begging for compliments! He was old, at least compared to Donnie. His hair was at least twenty percent grey and receding at the temples. His skin was creased in the wrong places, his knees cracked sometimes. He had an ugly appendix scar. Oh fuck.
“I want to suck you,” Donnie said, so softly it was almost a whisper. “Then, maybe, fuck you.”
Will loved the way Donnie stated it, baldly like that. “Please,” he stuttered in reply.
With a more mischievous grin, Donnie cupped both hands under Will’s cock and slipped it out from inside the briefs. His knuckles stirred the hairs on Will’s balls—should he have shaved? Did Donnie prefer that?—tugging them against the grain so that Will’s skin goose bumped. Will wriggled on the sofa and pushed his jeans and briefs down to the top of his thighs.
Donnie gave a gentle sigh, then placed one hand back on Will’s bare thigh. His palm was slightly but not unpleasantly damp. He dipped his head and slid his lips over the head. His voice was muffled as his tongue lapped at the rim. “Oh. It’s so good. You’re so good.”
Will wasn’t going to challenge that. He’d only sound even more needy. Donnie’s mouth was firm but slow-moving, his hand still caressing Will’s balls as he sucked and licked. He stretched a fingertip behind Will’s balls and stroked his taint. Will had never been teased like that before: it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his mouth go dry. Donnie’s mouth tightened: his movements felt more urgent. Will wondered if they’d make it to bed before he spilled in Donnie’s mouth and over his face.
If it felt uncomfortable, like one of the springs in the sofa was loose and digging into his left buttock, if he worried he’d wrench his back if they made out on this piece of misbegotten furniture one more night—Will didn’t care. At least he wasn’t sneezing from the dust that usually came off the cushions.
Donnie pulled off slowly, like licking down to the end of an ice pop. Without a word, he got back to his feet, took Will’s hand, and led him out of the living room. It was only a few steps to Donnie’s bedroom, but the first time Will had been invited inside. The bed was neatly made, the sheets smelled of a lemon freshener. Then Donnie turned him so his back was to the bed and all he could see was the doorway behind them and Donnie’s face—and Donnie pushed him backwards.