Barging In (36 page)

Robin trembled and made a muffled sound.

Concern flooded through the haze of lust. “Are you okay with this?” Dan asked.

“Yeah, why’d you ask?” Robin’s voice was uneven, quivering, making Dan even more worried. Much as he wanted this, he didn’t want to have it at Robin’s expense.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m excited,” Robin said, the emphatic tone of voice wiping all doubts away.

“Excited is good. Okay, yeah. Oh Christ.” Because if Robin was excited, then Dan was in some kind of delirious frenzy. But he stopped his own hands from shaking enough to slather his fingers in lube and push one into that waiting hole.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Robin. Maybe a hiss, maybe some kind of movement away from him. He certainly didn’t expect the heartfelt groan and surge back against him as Robin attempted to impale himself on Dan’s finger. And although he was tight, it didn’t take long to get him ready. Get them both ready. The sight of Robin pressed down on the mattress with his arse in the air combined with those needy sounds had Dan sweating and panting along with him.

He waited, poised to push in, awestruck at the sight of his naked dick about to breach Robin. He’d never done this unprotected. Everything had been stripped away, all the barriers between them demolished—physical, mental, spiritual.

This was how it was meant to be. He didn’t want to fuck Robin. He wanted to make love to him.

“Come on, I’m ready,” Robin pleaded.

Dan pushed in, inched through the tight muscle into that perfect heat. Every thrust was like a revelation, the knowledge that there was nowhere he’d rather be and no one he’d rather be with filling him with incandescent joy.

The knowledge that he was home.

He gathered Robin up—pulled him until he was sitting back against his thighs and he could kiss his neck. He reached around to clasp Robin’s cock, thrilling at the sensation of Robin’s body pulsing around him.

It was a perfect give and take. Perfect balance. Balance that disintegrated as he tried to tell Robin just how much he loved him. Felt him stiffen, felt his cock swell and his body clench hard. Heard him cry out.

He wasn’t Dan anymore. He exploded into Robin, and they were one, rocking together in that radiant moment that lasted forever.

Robin surfaced through layers of bliss to find Dan’s lips on his. They were lying side by side, Dan pressed up against him in what felt like an attempt to have as much of their skin in contact as possible. They kissed lazily, drowsy on love and each other. He could feel the aftermath of their coupling as a sweet ache. It had been incredible to let go like that. To trust Dan so completely that he could.

At the sound of voices outside, Robin stirred.

“We should probably get dressed or something. Go see Mum before she drinks the pub dry. She’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.”

Dan ran a hand down his flank. “I’m sure she has a good idea. Hey, did I ever tell you how amazing you are?”

“Not in a while.” Robin blushed. Compliments always made him embarrassed, but he loved hearing them from Dan.

“I’ll have to remedy that. I’ll be telling you every day, just so’s you know and start believing it yourself.”

Robin could probably believe anything Dan told him with his beautiful eyes so full of truth, but he changed the subject. “So you’re really staying? Travelling with me, wherever I go?”

“Yep, we can work out a system. One night in my boat, one night in yours. You’ll have to get up pretty bloody early in the morning to shake me off.”

“Or just cruise to a bit of the network your boat’s too wide for.”

Dan pouted, but his eyes still sparkled. “You wouldn’t.”

“Only if you buy strawberry lube again.”

Dan chuckled, the sound sweeter than any birdsong.

“The
Jolly Roger
? Tell me you didn’t pick her just because of the name.”

“It was a sweetener, but it was the Jacuzzi that did it.”

Robin gaped. “You have a Jacuzzi?”

Dan gave a maddening grin. “Oh yeah. Care to try her out? I’ve been assured she’s just about big enough for two, provided you don’t mind being
intimate
.”

“Is there any way to share a bath without being intimate? No, don’t answer that. So long as you have towels, you’re on.”

Dan sat up and went to the window. He peered through the crack in the curtains. “Oh look, there’s your mum. Hi, Rosemary!” he called. “And Charles, and that must be the lad who was sucking him off. Hmmm, cute, isn’t he?”

Robin groaned. So much for the Jacuzzi.

“Are they a couple, then?” Dan asked.

“Charles and Marek? Yeah, I guess they must be now. I only found out today. Apparently Marek got it into his head that Charles and I had something going on and was insanely jealous. Charles had to get me to talk to him, tell him I was seeing you and didn’t have anything going on with the boss. They were in the middle of making up when I left for the pub.”

“No, they were in the middle of that when I walked in on them,” Dan murmured.

Robin started pulling on clothes after cleaning up with Dan’s wet wipes. He had to hand it to Dan—he’d really thought of everything. Except bed linen.

“Where’s all your stuff? How did you manage all this? You were in Gran Canaria.”

Dan grinned. “Amazing what you can do over the Internet and phone, isn’t it? Plus I had Tris as my man in London. Oh yeah, I sent him back early to help me out. He was driving me nuts moping over Alex anyway. They’ve patched things up now, so it’s all come up roses.”

Suddenly, Tris didn’t seem so threatening. “So he sorted out your flat?”

“He took my keys to the estate agents and sold all the furniture. Not much else to do until I got back. Finished the assignment a few days early, came back and packed what I needed into a couple of suitcases. They’re on the front deck. A few things with sentimental value are in a box in Mum’s attic, and the rest went to charity. I never had all that much stuff. I’ve always travelled light.”

Robin stepped up behind Dan, wrapping his arms around him and letting him fall back. He murmured into Dan’s ear. “To think I once thought you were a vain, materialistic wanker who couldn’t be trusted.”

Dan chuckled. “I used to reckon those were my best qualities. Took someone special to make me realise there was more to me than that.”

“There’s always been more to you.”

“Maybe. Mum always said there was. Hey”—Dan’s tone brightened—“she’s dying to meet you. We’re going to have to go and visit soon. I want to show you off to everyone. Be warned, they’ll all think you’re a posh git despite the hippie camouflage.”

Robin smiled against Dan’s neck. “Can’t wait. Sounds like a riot. Now let’s go see my mum before she explodes with curiosity.”

Robin stepped down from the deck of Dan’s boat. His boyfriend’s boat. He held out his hand to help Dan down. It wasn’t necessary, but it was worth it to see Dan’s nose crinkle up and his cheeks dimple.

People were walking up and down the towpath. People were watching from the pub windows. He couldn’t care less. He was with the man he loved, the one who had barged into his life and turned it all upside down and now put it all back together in a way that made perfect sense.

He pulled Dan to him and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What was that for?”

“Don’t ever change. You’re just perfect.”

Dan grinned. “Can I have that in writing, please?”

“You can have anything you want,” Robin assured him.

“Oh, I’m definitely holding you to
that
promise.”

They walked into the pub hand in hand, grinning like love-struck fools.

About the Author

Eccentric Englishwoman, absent-minded mother, proud bisexual, shameless tea addict, serial textile craft hobbyist, iconoclastic logophile and writer of homoerotic romance—Josephine Myles is all these things at once. She has held down more different jobs than any sane person ever should and is fundamentally rebellious, preferring the overgrown yet enticing path rather than the wide and obvious one.

Jo once spent two years living on a slowly decaying narrowboat, and was determined that she would one day use the experience as fodder for a novel. It may have taken a few years, but she got there in the end. She usually does.

Jo would love to know more about her readers and you can contact her via email:
[email protected]
.
For regular blog posts and saucy free reads, visit her website at
www.josephinemyles.com

The bigger they are, the harder they fall…in love.

Muscling Through

© 2011 JL Merrow

Cambridge art professor Larry Morton takes one, alcohol-glazed look at the huge, tattooed man looming in a dark alley and assumes he’s done for. Moments later he finds himself disarmed—literally and figuratively. And, the next morning, he can’t rest until he offers an apology to the man who turned out to be more gentle than giant.

Larry's intrigued to find there’s more to Al Fletcher than meets the eye; he possesses a natural artistic talent that shines through untutored technique. Unfortunately, no one else seems to see the sensitive soul beneath Al’s imposing, scarred, undeniably sexy exterior. Least of all Larry’s class-conscious family, who would like nothing better than to split up this mismatched pair.

Is it physical? Oh, yes, it’s deliciously physical, and so much more—which makes Larry’s next task so daunting. Not just convincing his colleagues, friends and family that their relationship is more than skin deep. It’s convincing Al.

Warning: Contains comic misunderstandings, misuse of art materials, and unexpected poignancy.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Muscling Through:

Larry wasn’t there when I finished, and I thought maybe he’d changed his mind, but he came running up looking worried after I’d hung about for ten minutes or so. “Al, I am so sorry. Got grabbed by the Praelector just as I was leaving college.”

I laughed, ’cause it sounded funny. He smiled back at me. He’d changed into a pale cream shirt that made his hair look blonder and a navy jacket. He looked really posh again. I looked down at my work clothes, which was a Scudamore’s T-shirt and jogging bottoms, ’cause they dry faster than jeans when you get them wet. “Do I need to get changed first?”

“No! No, you look great.” He blushed a bit. “And we’re only going to the pub.”

“I’m all sweaty,” I said, ’cause it’d been a warm day.

He went even redder. “It’s all right—we can sit outside if you feel uncomfortable.”

We went to this place down the river. Punters, it’s called. Used to be the Red Lion, but it’s gone all trendy. We sat outside and looked at the river, except I kept looking at Lawrence, and half the time, he was looking back at me. “Um,” he said, holding a glass of wine in his little hand. His nails were really clean. “Tell me about yourself?”

I just shrugged and had a swig of my pint, because I never know what people want to hear when they say that stuff. And it’s not like anything about me is interesting or nothing.

“Have you always lived in Cambridge?”

I nodded.

“Do you live alone?”

I nodded again.

So then he gave up on twenty questions and started telling me about himself. I liked hearing him talk. I thought he had a lovely voice. He talked with his hands, too, waving them about like he was doing sign language. He told me about teaching History of Art, about how the students didn’t get stuff, like making Jesus bigger than the saints in the pictures because he was more important.

“I used to think that was funny too,” I said. “But my art teacher explained it to me. It’s like this modern art stuff, innit? You’re showing what stuff’s like inside, not on the outside like a photo.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s it!” He smiled at me and leaned over the table, and I felt a bit funny, so I had another swig of my pint.

“Did you know you have the most incredibly sinister smile?” Lawrence said after a bit. He put his elbows on the table and leaned over toward me again. “It’s that scar by your mouth—sort of twists. I think that’s what really scared the shit out of me last night—your smile.”

I frowned, because why would anyone be scared of a smile? “You got a lovely smile,” I said, because I knew that was true. He went all pink. “Are you a poof?” I asked. I didn’t think he’d mind. And even if he did, there wasn’t nothing a little bloke like him could do to me, so that was all right.

“Er, yes. I hope that’s not a problem?” His ears went so red it was like they was sunburnt, and he leaned back a bit.

“Nah. I’m a poof and all.”

Lawrence laughed. “You know, you’re really rather refreshingly direct.” He didn’t say nothing for a minute, just put his elbows on the table again and played with the beer mats. “So, have you, er, got a partner?”

“Nah. I had this bloke, Ryan, but we split up.”

“Oh. What was he like?”

I had to think about it. See, I could have drawn him a picture easy, but I didn’t have a pencil. “Little,” I said. “And pretty.” I smiled, remembering, ’cause I’d thought Ryan was really pretty, but Lawrence was much prettier.

“Oh,” said Lawrence. His shoulders went a bit stiff. “That’s the sort of men you find attractive?”

I didn’t say nothing, because there Lawrence was sitting in front of me and he was perfect, but I knew I couldn’t say that, because it’d get awkward. I knew he wouldn’t fancy me or nothing.

He was building card houses with the beer mats. I couldn’t do nothing like that. My hands are too big and clumsy, ’cept when I’ve got a pencil or a brush in them. ’Course, Lawrence couldn’t bench press the table we were sitting at, neither. “Would you… Would you consider going out with someone like me?” he asked without looking at me.

Someone like him? That was all right, because then we weren’t talking about him. “Yeah, but someone like you wouldn’t go for a bloke like me.”

He looked up then. “Why not?”

“Someone like you’d want someone he could talk to. Not someone thick as pigshit.”

He looked at me like I’d told him he was a wanker or something. “We’ve been talking just fine.”