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Freddie
How did this happen?
One moment Freddie had been safely set to sleep at the hostel, only to end up in a slightly swanky hotel across the city. He’d never stayed in a boutique hotel before and certainly not with a staggeringly attractive man across the hall from him. The rooms were filled with interesting antiques that would’ve made Francis drool; he’d been sure to snap a few photos to text to the interior decorator, who specialised in restoring vintage furniture.
Supper had been thankfully neither swanky nor posh. They’d found a great little café not far from the hotel to start their evening with stamppot. He’d always wanted to try the Dutch version of bubble and squeak, and it didn’t disappoint.
Taine had required two bowls of the sausage, mashed potatoes, and sauerkraut. He’d still appeared hungry afterwards. They’d walked around the streets until they’d found a bar that served not only a wide selection of beers but had a cheese plate as well.
They managed to explore all around the hotel, stopping in at various pubs for a pint—or two. A few drinks had done wonders for Freddie’s courage. It had also made him astonishingly randy, not a brilliant thing with the handsome man at his side.
It’s the beer’s fault. That’s what did this.
Alcohol lowering his inhibitions certainly explained why he now sat on the bed in Taine’s room, reading from the Narnia Chronicles. They’d made it to chapter five. They had to stop and drunkenly giggle frequently as his captive audience of one insisted on making a running commentary on the story.
Edmund’s a bit of a tosser, isn’t he? Do you think C.S. Lewis had eaten a few special Amsterdam brownies before he wrote this? What idiot child goes to a stranger’s house for tea?
The continuous commentary had them both rolling around on the bed in fits of laughter. Freddie had to wipe tears from his eyes; they both gasped for air. In the midst of the hilarity, he somehow wound up with his hand on a rather large, hard thigh that definitely wasn’t his own.
His breath hitched for a far different reason than humour. He couldn’t resist flexing his fingers, digging them in a little to test the taut muscles. Taine’s eyes had gone an almost molten metal colour; it was like peering into a vat of gold.
He couldn’t help thinking Taine looked exactly like a lion preparing to pounce on his prey; Aslan had clearly sunk into his subconscious. Freddie hadn’t ever had a man appear so riveted by him. It lit a furnace in his body, and it definitely wasn’t the beer talking.
From raucous amusement to a heady silence, Freddie lay in the bed next to the man, his hand on Taine’s leg the only physical connection between them. He kept his eyes focused on his fingers—not Taine’s eyes. It felt as if he were fighting a magnetic force to avoid them.
What’s the worst that can happen if our eyes meet in this heated moment?
Sex?
Was he ready to lose his virginity? He hadn’t exactly been waiting for Mr Perfect. It had been more of not wanting to make a mistake with his first adventure in intercourse.
God, I sound like a damn school nurse giving a presentation on sex.
“Frederick?” Taine’s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck to guide him up the bed. He shimmied up the mattress until they were nose to nose. “In your packing, did you think to bring condoms? I did, but I always like to know there’s extras hanging around.”
Freddie didn’t know whether to respond to the use of his full name or the question about condoms. He went for blunt honesty. “Condoms aren’t generally high on the packing lists of virgins, not when intending to travel alone.”
“Virgins?” Taine’s hand drew him closer until their noses actually touched. “You’ve never had sex, at all?”
“Not all sex is intercourse.” He offered a wry smile to the obviously surprised man. “Something wrong with being a virgin?”
Taine canted his head slightly, causing their noses to brush together. “How many beers did you have tonight?”
“No idea. Too many to count, but not enough I can’t speak in full sentences.” Freddie didn’t think his mind had gone completely muddled with the alcohol. He made the mistake of dropping his eyes down to those lips that had drawn him in every time they’d seen each other. He leaned in until they almost kissed. “What’s it matter?”
“It does.” Taine closed the distance, a soft and gentle caress of their lips. “Why don’t you read some more?”
“Read?” Freddie ran his fingers from Taine’s jaw along his chin up to his mouth. “Maybe there’s a story in Braille written on your skin.”
He grabbed Freddie by the wrist to pull his hand away. “Oh, you are a temptation, but I’d rather we were both sober for your first time.”
He’s confident.
The journey, the beer, and the early morning caught up to Freddie from one moment to the next. His hand dropped to the mattress while he dropped onto his back. He couldn’t keep his eyes open as his head hit the pillow.
Freddie awoke the next morning in a room that wasn’t his own. Taine had clearly already gotten up, showered, and had time to grab a cup of coffee. He sat on a chair across from the bed; a mug of what smelled like strong coffee rested on the nightstand within easy reach.
Am I drooling over the caffeine or the shirtless man in the room?
He’d never been one to awkwardly avoid uncomfortable topics of conversation. It came from his work; having to handle the telling of bad news to already fragile people had toughened him up in some ways. He found being direct usually worked best. “Did you not want to shag me?”
Maybe that was too direct?
Taine spluttered coffee across his bare chest, making Freddie feel as if he could have the best of both worlds. Would it be too forward to lick it off him? “I definitely did ‘want to shag’ you.”
“Well? What happened?”
“People put so much pressure on their first time. It’s not some mystical experience.” Taine brushed coffee off his bare skin, and Freddie found himself riveted to the movements. “First, fiftieth, or last, you should always be sober enough to not only enjoy it, but more importantly, consent.”
“Sober? We weren’t completely pissed.” Freddie had been aware enough to read The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. “I could’ve managed it.”
“We were giggling like a pair of hyenas at the zoo.” Taine shifted forward in the chair and rested his elbows on his thighs. “Maybe I want you cognisant enough to know who you’re screaming ‘yes’ to through the night and into the morning. You’ll probably throw my name in there a few times.”
“Will I?” Freddie shoved the blankets away, suddenly overly warm in the cool hotel, and thanked God that he’d thought to bring his backpack over from his room. He hopped smoothly out of bed and hoped the loose pyjama bottoms covered his morning wood. “You sound like one of my aunt’s telly shows, all attractively seductive drama with no satisfaction because it’s fantasy, not reality.”
“Good sex, Frederick, is not about fantasy versus reality.” Taine stood up to his impressive six-foot-five height and stalked over to where Freddie had started to hunt for his clothes for the day. The larger man’s hand drifted across his pyjama-covered arse to settle comfortably there. “The best sexual encounters blend the two together until your mind abandons logic to pleasure.”
“Is it? What else is sex?” Freddie didn’t have a clue how he managed to keep his voice steady with those fingers splayed across his arse. One thumb casually dipped along the seam of his pyjamas to press slightly into the crease. “I imagine you’re only too happy to tell me all about it.”
The truth of the matter was, Freddie had no idea what to do next. He’d been bent over to go through his backpack when Taine grabbed him. Should he stand up again? Would it be better or worse?
“What is sex?” Taine’s fingers skimmed along his spine to catch him by the shoulders to guide him to an upright position. “Have you ever looked through a kaleidoscope? Sex is looking through one of those while on an acid trip. It’s enjoying a night of drinking and having the perfect fry-up in the early hours of the morning. Decadent. Greasy. Feels as if it’s terrible for you, but so miraculous you’ll risk the fire to gobble it all up. It’s craving chocolate only to have someone gift you with enough of the best treats to binge on for days.”
“I might not have been buggered before, but I’ve had sexual encounters. It’s never been all of that.” Freddie had enjoyed most of what he’d done previously. He couldn’t help wondering if maybe his—or his partner’s—skills hadn’t been what they should. “It’s never been half of that.”
Taine began walking, forcing Freddie backwards until his legs bumped into the table that ran along one of the walls. His hands came up to rest against the wall, bracketing the smaller man between his arms. “You haven’t done it right, Frederick, not even close.”
“Haven’t I?” Freddie didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he went with what soothed his growing arousal. He planted them on Taine’s sides, his fingers touching the smooth, tawny skin. They were so close that the former rugby player’s chest hairs brushed against him. “Are you going to teach me? Should I wear short trousers and knee-high socks? Play the student to your teacher?”
Taine swallowed with such difficulty that Freddie heard it loudly. “Definitely more of the fantasy—maybe not the first time. You never know, you might enjoy a wooden ruler across your arse.”
It was Freddie’s turn to gulp when Taine squeezed a hand between the table and his body to swat him on the arse. Goodness. He hadn’t expected it.
Or expected to like it. Do I like it? Maybe he should do it again. Coc y gath. I better be on my way to my first time. I’m harder than a block of cheddar.
Taine leaned into him further, demonstrating quite blatantly that it was a shared problem. “Oh, oh, I see. Frederick, you have untapped depths to explore, don’t you?”
“If you don’t stop saying my name like that, I’m going to have issues whenever someone uses my full name. I’m not one of Pavlov’s dogs to be trained to harden when I hear it.” He winced at giving away some pertinent information. Taine didn’t really need to know how arousing his voice could be. The man probably already knew the effect he had on others—or on him, at least. “Just quit it.”
“Something wrong with the way I say Frederick?” Taine nipped at the tip of Freddie’s nose. He turned his head to brush his lips against the younger man’s ear and murmur repeatedly, “Frederick. Frederick. Frederick.”
“I can’t decide if you’re trying to desensitise me or break my cock.” Freddie couldn’t figure a way to subtly reach down and adjust himself without rubbing all over both of their shafts. “This isn’t going to be a repeat of last night, is it? It’s brilliant to know chivalry isn’t dead—Aunt Anna will be beyond thrilled. I’d be happier to be on the other side of virginland.”
Taine eased his head back to smirk at him. “Am I making you nervous, Frederick? You chatter a bit when you’re nervous.”
“My thirsty ferret is harder than a block of cheddar,” Freddie retorted sharply.
“Your thirsty ferret?”
“Welsh thing.”
“Thirsty. Ferret.” Taine sounded out the words slowly in obvious disbelief.
“What? Don’t you Scots have weird terms for your cocks?” Freddie felt his heart start to race when the private parts in question nudged against one another. “Not even one?”
“I did once hear someone call it a satter spatterer.”
Freddie had no idea how Taine managed to say “satter spatterer” without even a hint of amusement. “And you have a problem with my words?”
Taine bumped up against him with a wicked smile twisting his lips upward. “I don’t care what you call your cock—soon you won’t be capable of much beyond asking for more.”
