He makes a zipping motion across his lips. “Okay, but it’s been added to my mental Spotify playlist. Sing something for me, and I’ll add that too.” I understand why he’s joking about singing and recording silly sounds; he knows how enormous a deal this is for me and is diffusing it.
“No.”
Am I embarrassed how easily he took me apart? That I’m collapsed here with my limp dick hanging out? Yep, but for once, I don’t care. Actually, it’s better. My anxiety doesn’t give a fuck. And nor does Neil. His jock is still around his thighs, like it’s a perfectly normal way to be after spontaneous mid-morning making out. And I guess it is, just not for me.
“Just one line,” he coaxes, “One of Ez’s songs.”
“No way,” I say, grateful. “My singing voice lies somewhere between a drunken apology and a plumbing problem.”
We arrive at the pub ten minutes late. Isaac’s electric Golf and Gerald’s pristine Corsa are there already, parked side by side. “You know they’re going to think we’re together if we arrive together.”
“They are.” Neil’s not the slightest perturbed. “And your face has a Sunday morning fuck flush not even this icy, foul weather can account for.” He makes a mock, hard-done-by sigh. “So, I’ll have to explain all over again all I wanted was to go on a cinema date, maybe end it with a little peck on the cheek, but my date insisted on coming back to my place, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and before I knew it, I was pinned at his mercy against a wall and ravaged. Ravaged, I was.”
He says nothing of the sort. But it’s fair to say we do make an entrance. Is there a collective noun for a group of raised eyebrows? A suspicion? An arch? Anyhow, I count four pairs.
“Look who I ran into out in the carpark,” Neil announces by way of greeting. It would be almost believable if my face wasn’t red as a beetroot, and he didn’t sling his arm around my shoulders. “Grab me a seat while I go to the bar, Doc. I’ll get us both a beer.”
Naturally, Alaric spots the love bite on my neck within seconds of me sitting down. After a wordless conversation with Gerald, who obediently shuffles across, he wiggles himself into the seat to my right. Neil’s already firmly reserved the one on my left, which leaves Isaac opposite, staring at the same part of my anatomy. Ez, thank fuck, has already leaped up to join Neil at the bar.
“You know what they say about small bruises,Doc.” Alaric’s blue eyes twinkle.
“Big stories,” Isaac finishes. “Juicy stories. Badly hidden stories. Sexy stories.”
“Fucked rigid into the mattress by a very hot and perennially horny man stories,” Alaric adds, just in case I haven’t got the message. His lips quirk. “I’d say I recognise the shape of the mouth that put it there, except, darling, I’m going to enjoy making you say it in your own words.”
Fighting the urge to cover the bruise with my hand, I fondle my wristband instead. It’s been neglected in the last twenty-four hours. Over at the bar, I have a feeling Neil is being subjected to a similar inquisition.
“Just helping him with another spreadsheet?” Isaac teases. “Was he chewing the end of his pen and his mouth slipped?”
“Neil invited me to the cinema, that’s all.” I throw them both a firm look, useless when they’re ogling the evidence of more.
“And afterwards he fucked you rigid into the mattress.”
“No.” I glare at them both. “Afterwards, he kissed me. And I stayed over because he lives closer to the cinema and the weather was shite. Neil made me some breakfast this morning. That’s all. Not that it is any of your business.”
Okay, so not quite all. But that insane blowjob isn’t for sharing. Not now, not ever.
“Are we talking the same Neil? Neil-I’ve-bedded-more-men-than-a-Travelodge-Sainsbury? That Neil?”
“He’s not like that at all, actually.”
Alaric snorts. “Just because he behaved like a gentleman the first night doesn’t mean he won’t fuck you like a savage next time, given half the chance. Our Neil is very well-balanced.”
Fortunately, the gentleman currently being maligned rescues me. “All good?” He treats Alaric to a look far firmer than I managed. One that simultaneously saysleave my man alone,but yes, I’d like to fuck him into the mattress, and also tags on anI’ve got this, Luke.It’s impressive.
“Fine.”
“We’ve ordered already.” Taking the hint, Alaric pushes the menus over. “The specials are on the back. Choose quickly and I’ll go to the bar and add it on.”
Not especially hungry after our big breakfast, I scan the menu. “I’ll have the Caesar salad,” I tell no one in particular.
Next to me, Neil turns the menu over, hesitates, then turns it back again before holding it farther away from him. All red brick walls and brasses, we’re in a typical olde worlde pub. They’re not renowned for their bright overhead lighting and big font menus. The font on this one’s loopy swirls. Alaric is already up out of his chair, waiting.
“It was a toss-up between the Caesar salad, the fish of the day—bream in a cauliflower puree—and the Sunday roast,” I add hastily. “Although the vegetarian lasagne was also tempting. And the wild mushroom risotto is always nice here. We could share some fries. Or potato skins, if you prefer.”
Under the table, a warm hand finds mine and gives it a squeeze. “The vegetarian lasagne sounds great. With a few fries.”
During the meal, Neil’s solid leg against mine, and his overall attentiveness is lovely. My friends are lovely, too, despite them ragging me. I’m lucky to have them, especially as I don’t always bring much to the party, but they let me hang around anyway. Despite all that, as the glasses clink and the teases flow, and I subtly move Neil’s glass away from hovering at the edge of his peripheral vision, I feel myself fading. A late night and overpeopling, not to mention a mind-blowing, energy-sapping orgasm, is catching up with me.
