What is it I told myself?Feel a feeling, touch a hand, lick a wall.
I take the plunge and kiss him. Only gently, but on the lips, as he’s all snuggled up on his pillows and as white as the sheet he’s lying on.
“Sorry,” I say, not sorry at all. Actually, I’m rather pleased with myself. “I needed that.”
He offers me a wan smile, faltering under the weight of the pain. “I needed it too. I’d like to give you more, but—” He winces as he adjusts his arm. “Now the local anaesthetic has worn off, it hurts like hell. I don’t think I can.”
“I’ll sleep in the spare room if you prefer.”
Neil grasps my hand tighter. “No way. Kiss me again. It helps with the pain.”
So I do. I stroke his ear and his cheek and sift my fingers through his hair until he’s gently snoring. He doesn’t snore all night. Three hours in and I’m passing him more painkillers, rearranging his pillows, and encouraging him to down a glass of water. Unromantic? It’s the most romantic thing there is.
“When all this is sorted, whatever the outcome, can I take you out on that date I promised you? Pick up where we left off? I mean, my plaster cast friend here is going to have to come along as a chaperone, but we can work around her.”
Taking his water glass to refill it, I probably smile too fast. Perhaps there is a space for me, after all. It feels nice the way he’s asking—sweet, flirty, a little anxious. As if Neil—confident, sexually assured Neil—is a teeny bit worried I might not say yes.
Am I allowed to be thrilled? The last couple of days have solidified our friendship, for sure, but the beginnings of our foray into anything more physical than a few kisses were kyboshed when my brain chemicals fell out of whack. They’re back in balance now. I feel great; being needed suits me. I’m good at it. So…what the hell am I dithering and second-guessing myself for?
Neil. Love. Happy.
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
CHAPTER 24
NEIL
I wake with heavy-lidded eyes and the warm, syrupy feeling of sleeping long and late. Luke’s mattress is a dream. I wiggle my fingers poking out from the end of my cast. For the first time since my stupid self-inflicted injury, my arm, lying on its bed of pillows, doesn’t feel too bad. Nestled in his hoodie, Luke’s still in the same position as when he nodded off after my middle-of-the-night round of painkillers. All cosied up into my side, with his arm flung around my chest. No wonder I’m warm and comfy.
As is his dick, snuggled hot and hard against my hip. I’ve felt about as horny as a cardboard box the last few nights. This morning, however, cautiously optimistic about my visually impaired future, and knowing this man will be part of it, is a whole different kettle of fish.
I lie still, letting my mind take me in horny directions—coarse, basic ones, admittedly. I’m a coarse, basic kind of guy. Such as ridding Luke of his sweet gay virginity, right here in this big comfy bed. Fucking that tight, unused little hole again and again, over every suitable surface in this cosy flat and maybe over some unsuitable ones too, whenever and wherever the urgetakes me. I picture Luke fucking me, showing him the best position to nail my prostate over and over with the long, slim thing currently prodding my thigh.
I don’t know when these fantasies are going to become reality. Our sex life is moving at a snail’s pace—not helped by him buggering off and then me being generally all over the place. But we’ll get there. And anyhow, this sweet little thing we’ve got going? Feels too good to rush.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say when he finally stirs.
“Mmpf.” He snuggles even closer. “Do you need me to get your painkillers?”
“No. Arm feels good.”
“Then I don’t want to get up yet.”
I huff a laugh into the top of his covered head. “You don’t have to.” I nudge him with my thigh. “Though this part of you has been up for a while.”
“Mmpf.”
I smile up at the ceiling—a pristine, warm clotted cream, no cracks anywhere—letting him wake up at his own pace. Bit by bit, beginning with a few dick twitches, he sleepily grinds against me. The fingers on my chest idly play with my piercing. I imagine waking up with him like this, minus the plaster cast, every morning. It’s a pretty image.
“Did I dream it,” he asks drowsily, his voice all low and croaky. “Or did you say you had another piercing?” He gives the one at my nipple a little flick. “Have you taken it out?”
“Nope.”
Luke lifts his chin, hazelly-green eyes blinking up at me from inside his hood. His half-awake sleepy face is ridiculously cute. Waking up to it every morning would be fucking awesome. With a slight frown, he brings a hand up to my mouth and runs a finger along my lower lip. “I think I’d have noticed by now if it’s in your tongue.”
“It’s not there.” I stick my tongue out and waggle it. “Way off.”
Pursing his lips, his fingers walk over to my ear. “Have I missed one here? You’ve got a stupid amount of hair.”
