Date: Tue, 12 Jul 2016 07:19:25 +0200
From: Ti Ja <n8amb7s@mail.com>
Subject: Wayne and I Part 2

This is a story involving sex and romance between adult males.  If such
material is not to your taste or if it is not legal for you to view it
wherever you are, please leave now.  All characters are over the age of
eighteen.  This story and its characters are fictitious and resemblance to
real individuals is coincidental.



Wayne and I



`I don't like the sound of this,' my friend Graham said, taking a swig of
his pint.

We were sitting in a bar, just up from where Wayne and I had had our first
proper conversation.  He'd texted me a couple of times that afternoon,
saying everything was quiet at home and he was going to stay in for the
evening, and that he couldn't wait to see me again.  I was glad to hear he
was okay.  I'd spent the afternoon thinking about what had happened, and
about him.  None of it made sense really.  Everything had happened so fast,
and almost everything about Wayne as a partner was wrong.  But it felt
right, somehow, and whereas in similar situations before the doubts had set
in when the immediate buzz had faded, here that wasn't happening.  I
couldn't understand it, but I knew I wanted to see him again, and soon.
Graham, however, was doing his best to rain on the parade.

`Sounds as if it could all get messy quite quickly,' he said.  `Be
careful.'

`Oh I'm going to be.  But I don't know.  What could happen – to me,
anyway – aside from just possibly his mum's psycho boyfriend trying to
turn up and kick the shit out of me?'

`Well, that.  He sounds like a proper nasty piece of work.  And what about
this Wayne?  You don't really know much about him, do you?  Can you trust
him?'

`I don't know.  I feel as if I can...'

`Yeah, but you're a soft-hearted bugger, and you always see the best in
people.  Besides, you fall in love too easy, and with all the wrong guys.'

`I haven't fallen in love or anything like it!'

`Not yet.'

`Well, I can't see Wayne going and telling either that Joe or his nasty
mates too much about me.  He's got too much to lose.  He's the one in the
closet after all.'

`Sure about that?  What if he was just spinning you a yarn to get a quick
fuck out of it?  I hope you were careful.'

`Hmm, not very, to be honest.  But I'm not worried about that.  I
definitely believe him about being in the closet, and you'll have to take
it from me, but he's definitely a virgin ... or he was yesterday anyway!'

`Well, we'll see I suppose ... but anyway, he's only bloody twenty!'

`Twenty-one.  But yes, well, that's why I don't think anything will really
come of it.  But he is very sweet, and I do believe what he told me about
his situation, and I'm going to keep my promise to him about doing what I
can to help if he needs it.  Short of getting the shit kicked out of me,
anyway.'

`Let's hope that doesn't happen...'







I didn't hear from Wayne for a few days, and on the Wednesday I had to go
to London for a couple of days with work.  I couldn't help thinking of him,
and I was tempted to text a couple of times and ask if he was okay, but
then resolved to leave it with him.  In any case, he'd hinted that it would
be better not to text him out of the blue, in case he was in company where
someone might see his phone.  I was beginning to worry about him by the
Thursday afternoon.  Then my phone buzzed in my pocket as I was getting
onto the train home.  For some reason I just knew it would be him.

- Hi u ok? Luv 2 c u if u in xxx

- I'm just on my way home now.  Back about 11.  What are you up to
tomorrow? I'm out in the evening, but fancy coming round in the daytime?
Mxx

-cn do mayb meet u l8r wen gt bk? x

- If you like.  Shall I text when I'm on the bus home? Mxx

-Yeh do c u l8r x

So I sent him a text whilst waiting for the bus, then sat impatiently as it
filled up with passengers coming out of town and a couple of foreign
students quibbled with the driver over the fare.  Finally we got going,
trundling through the darkened, rain-wet streets, past the lights of the
taxi offices, pubs and takeaways, and then turning onto the avenue.  I
stood up as we neared my stop, and spotted a familiar figure waiting in a
hooded top, watching expectantly as the bus drew nearer.  My heart pounded.
I got off, thanking the driver with a dry mouth, and there he was in front
of me.  He beamed, as if seeing me had made his day, and all of a sudden
everything seemed brighter.

`You okay?'

`Yeah, long day.  Looking forward to getting home!  What about you?  Come
on, let's get out of the rain.  My place?'

He filled me in on his week as we went.  There wasn't much to tell.  He'd
been to sign on the dole that day and spotted a couple of things in the
jobcentre that he was going to apply for, although he didn't think he'd get
anywhere with them, and his old mate Nick had been arrested in town for
possession of heroin.

`I didn't even know he was using,' Wayne said dismally.  `Fookin' idiot.  I
can't stay round this lot much longer.  They're killin' themselves.'

`Well, let's hope something comes of one of these jobs ... here we are,
anyway.  Bloody hell it's cold.  Come on in.  Do you want a cup of tea, or
a beer or something?'

`Tea'd be nice,' he said, as I closed the door behind us.  `But
first... I've bin wantin' to do this all week.  Come `ere.'

It was only four days, but it seemed ages since I'd felt his sweet lips on
mine like this, run my fingers down his back, felt his breath on my face
and his little contented sigh in my ear as he put his head on my shoulder.

I made the tea and we went and sat in the living room, talking about my
day.  I'd been doing some work with a university and giving a guest
lecture, and he asked a lot of questions about the place.

`Wish I could do that,' he said wistfully.  `Go to uni, I mean.'

`You can.'

`Nah, not me.  I'm not clever enough, an' anyway, can't afford it can I?  I
can't get into all that debt.'

He looked unconvinced when I told him I often dealt professionally with
people a lot less clever than him, and it was all a matter of
opportunities; opportunities that people from his background were being
denied. I began to embark on a rant about how awful it is that poorer
students are being shut out of education.  He finished his tea at a gulp,
and put a hand on my knee.

`You're right, I agree with you, it's shit.  But there's nowt we can do
about it here an' now, is there?  Shall we...?'

He came closer and then drew back, looking suddenly awkward, as if
something had just occurred to him.

`Oh, I bin thinkin',' he said coyly.

`Uh-huh?'

`Well, you know when we shagged without a condom ... well, is that okay?  I
mean, like, have you bin tested?  Sorry, I don't wanna say that ...  But
y'know...'  His voice tailed off.

`No, that's okay,' I said, smiling.  `Good on you for being careful.  It
shouldn't really have happened like that, to be honest, but yes it is okay.
I got tested a couple of months back.  All clear, and I haven't ... well,
you know, since.  I'm guessing you're fine as well.'

`Yeah,' he said, looking a bit embarrassed.  `I've only slept wi' two
lasses, and that was ages ago.  Sorry, seemed best to ask, like.  Now...'

His lips pressed against mine again, tongues playing gently together, and
his hand slid slowly down to my thigh.  I rolled over on my back, pulling
him on top of me, loving his weight, the eagerness with which he rubbed his
crotch against me and kissed my neck.  His cock was stiff in his jeans, and
he gave a little chuckle of pleasure as I lifted his top and began to
fondle his lower back.  I reached around, undid his belt, stroked his cock
through his pants, and then slipped my hand into the back and began
fondling his bottom, running my finger up and down in his crack, tickling
his hole gently.  He squeaked in pleasure, reached down and began massaging
my crotch.

`You do have the most perfect arse,' I whispered.  `Come on, shall we go to
bed?'

He nodded, lips still pressed hard against mine, and slid off me.  We
tumbled upstairs, stopping to kiss every few steps.

`I wanna suck your cock,' he whispered urgently as he took down my
trousers.

He dropped to his knees and took my cock in his mouth, sucking greedily,
pushing his face down onto it until he gagged and my pubes tickled his
nose.  Slowly we shuffled over to the bed and fell across it, his lips
still locked around my shaft and his busy tongue sending exquisite
sensations through my body.

`Come on; let me lick your arse.'

He wriggled round, thrusting his gorgeous bum in my face.  I buried my face
in his lovely, musky crack, and he whimpered through his mouthful of cock
as my tongue played all over his hole and the back of his balls.

`Oh fook me ... please fook me!'

Still licking his bottom madly I reached out for a condom from the drawer.
He took it from me and put it on, then dabbed a bit of lube on my cock,
turned around and lowered himself onto it.  He squeaked as he impaled
himself.

`Okay?'

`Hurts ... wait a bit.'

He bent and kissed me hard, and as he did so I felt him starting to relax.
He slid further down, pausing every so often, until I was right inside him,
and then we began to move.  He pulled me upright and kissed me again, and
we fucked like that for ages, grunting and sighing, kissing and biting at
necks and ears and lips and noses.  I began to wank him as he rode harder
and harder, bringing me closer and closer to cumming.

`Fookin' cum in me,' he moaned.  `Wanna see you cum.'

`I am ... I'm cumming ... oh god!'

He cried out aloud as he felt me go, firing it deep inside him.  Then as I
kept wanking him his face screwed up and he shot his big load all over me.
Sated, aching, we subsided into one another's arms as our breathing slowly
came back to normal.  He kissed me yet again.

`You tired?' he asked, tenderness in his voice, seeing my eyes closing a
bit.

I nodded.  It had been a long couple of days.  I'd have liked to lie and
talk to him for a bit, but I was exhausted.

`Let's get to sleep then.'  He kissed me softly on the lips, wriggled a
little away from me and closed his eyes.  `Sleep tight,' I heard him murmur
as I dozed off.







We got up quite late the next morning.  I was working from home that day
and could pick my own hours as long as I got everything done, so we went on
the internet, found the two job adverts he'd seen, and started work on his
applications.  They weren't much – part-time posts in a factory and as
porter in a restaurant kitchen – but, as he said, they were better than
`hangin' about on the fookin' dole all me life.'  Besides, the kitchen
porter one, which was with a large restaurant with a good reputation
locally, might be a step to something better.  He set about that one with a
will, scribbling down notes on how much he enjoyed cooking, what his
particular skills were, and, with a bit of prompting from me, talking up
what he'd got out of his college course and his qualifications in food
hygiene and the rest.  I couldn't help but notice that, for all he'd said
about not being very clever and not having taken school seriously, he wrote
fluently, in a boyish round hand.

`There,' he said.  `That's done.  Will you help me with my CV an' all that?
And can I print it all out here?  Me computer at home's crap.'

`Sure.  I'm going to have to get on with some work, but why don't we do it
over the weekend sometime?  Closing date's not until next week so there's
no hurry.  Might be an idea to leave it for a bit anyway and come back to
it with fresh eyes: you usually spot something you can improve, in my
experience.'

`Aye okay,' he said, smiling gratefully.  `Shall I come round tomorrow?'

`Yes.  Or later on, if you like.  I'll be home by 11ish, so if you want to
come round here and stay over...'

`Ooh, can I?'

`Course you can.  I'll probably be drunk later though, so don't expect too
much of me!'





Later that evening I ambled home from town, more than a little tipsy after
a nice evening in some of the real-ale pubs with a couple of old colleagues
from when I used to work nearby and some other friends.  Graham had been
there, cautioning me again about getting involved with Wayne when I
mentioned he might come round later, and at that the others, overhearing,
started ribbing me about being a cradle-snatcher.  I wondered how Wayne
would cope in that company.  In the end I concluded he'd probably be okay.
He wasn't stupid, and once he'd got over his shyness he'd probably have
enough to say for himself.  Or maybe I was being hopelessly optimistic.
Graham certainly thought so, although he did also say he wanted to meet
Wayne and see for himself what he was like.  I was still musing on it as I
turned onto the avenue.  The big pub on the corner was still busy, and I
cast an eye over the groups sitting out in the garden.  There, amid a group
of scallies in their hoodies and tracksuit pants, was Wayne, sitting quiet
and slightly apart, and looking a bit lost.  He caught my eye and looked
momentarily startled, and then looked away again quickly.  Understanding, I
kept walking.  A few minutes later, as I got near my house, my mobile phone
rang, his name flashing up on the display.

`Hiya, it's me,' he said cheerily.

`Oh hi Wayne, how you doing?'

`Pissed!  Bin drinkin' since 3.  Can I come round?  S'okay, I'm on me own.
Told the others I was off `ome.  They're all headin' into town.'

`Okay then.  See you in a minute.'

He turned up a few minutes later, grinning drunkenly as he wobbled into the
hallway, clutching a half-eaten kebab in one hand and a carrier bag with a
few more cans in it in the other.  He gave me a garlicky kiss, flopped on
the sofa and set about finishing his kebab.

`Sorry `bout this,' he mumbled through a mouthful of bread.  `Not `ad any
tea.  Nick and that lot dragged me down pub this afternoon.'

`Oh no problem.  That smells nice, actually.'

`Wanna bit?'

`Cheers.  Mm, that is good.  So all your lot have gone on into town, then?'

`Yeah.  Gone to that new place that's opened up over river, down that way.
You know where I mean?'

`Oh yeah, there are a few places down there.  Bit rough though, isn't it?'

`Aye, not very good some o' them places.  Nick reckons he can get some
pills down there, and there are lots of lasses go out down that part of
town now.  He's gonna end up shaggin' some townie slag, he says.  Reckons
they're all gaggin' for it.'  His brow darkened.  `I hate the way they talk
about lasses, sometimes.  No respect for `em, like.'

`Hmm...'

`They're jus' boring me too now,' he carried on.  `Birds an' shit telly
programmes an' football's all they talk about.  And drugs, more an' more;
smack, like.  Told `em I don't like it again tonight but they tell me to
mind me own business.  I'd have gone `ome earlier, but I got talkin' to a
few other guys for a bit, older blokes like.  One of `em's a cook and we
got talkin' about `is job.  Give me some good advice about that one I'm
gonna apply for, he did.'

With that he crumpled up his kebab wrapper, took a swig of beer and reached
for his cigarettes.  We went out in the back garden for a smoke.  He was
swaying a bit, but he still made sense as we talked about my evening, where
I'd been and who with.  He laughed about my liking for real ale and what he
called `old men's pubs,' but even so, he'd never been out round that part
of town very much and he said he'd like to try sometime.

`I might even start drinkin' that old man's beer you like,' he said
teasingly.  `Not really ever `ad it before.  Never know, I might like it.'

Eventually we decided to turn in.  I gave him a spare toothbrush I had
lying about since his breath still reeked of garlic, and then he went
upstairs as I went to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.  When I got up
there he was lying in bed with his hands behind his head, looking
completely at home.  He watched me intently through slightly unfocused eyes
as I got undressed and slipped under the duvet alongside him, snuggling up
to me for a long goodnight kiss.

`Y'know,' he said softly.  `I bet none o' them end up ... like this.'

`What, Nick and Daz and that lot?'

`Yeah.  I feel so ... content, like.  I love spendin' time with you.'

`Me too.'

We kissed again, more passionately, hands running across one another's
bodies, and cuddled up together.  Then he farted loudly.

`Bloody `ell, that kebab ... phew, sorry.'

`Oh Wayne, that stinks!  I'll make you go and sleep on the sofa if you do
that again ... no, don't be daft, I'm joking.  Come here...'

We lay and had a long cuddle, and then turned over and fell asleep.






We woke up slowly the next morning, kissing sleepily under the covers,
rubbing our morning hard-ons together, idly at first, then harder as we
woke up a bit more.  He chuckled delightedly as I ran my fingers down his
back and stroked his bottom, running my tongue over his neck and biting
gently at his lovely, sensitive ears.  Then he pushed me over on my back
and worked his way across my chest and tummy, and then further down still.

`Love you being so hairy,' he smiled sexily.  `You're like me big cuddly
teddy bear.'

His mouth closed warmly around my cock.  I pulled him round into the 69
position, teased his balls with my tongue as they hung over my mouth,
buried my face in his sweet arse, and then went for his cock.  Lying there
stroking one another's legs and balls and arses, sucking one another
greedily, we started to cum together.  He jammed his face down into my
pubes until he gagged as I came down his throat; I jerked mine back so his
cock hung over my face, watched in hazy wonderment as it jerked and
spurted, and relished the feeling of the sticky warm cum trickling down my
cheeks.  He wiped it solicitously away with a tissue, and cuddled up next
to me.  We dozed off again for a bit.  By the time we woke up again both of
us needed a piss, and in any case I wanted coffee and a cigarette, so we
got up, and whilst I made a pot of coffee he vanished into the bathroom.

`I'd give that ten minutes,' he said sheepishly when he emerged.  `That
fookin' kebab!'

We took our coffee upstairs and finished off his job applications.  He was,
he said, `real crap at typin',' so I did that bit whilst he poked through
my bookshelves.  He'd been boyishly impressed when I'd told him the weekend
before that I'd written a couple of books and now he sat and thumbed
through one of them, chortling that he had no idea what it was all about
but it seemed interesting all the same.  An hour or so later he was beaming
his thanks as two completed application forms, covering letters and two
copies of the CV we'd knocked together for him came off the printer.

`I'd best get off,' he said regretfully as we stapled the last sheets
together.  `Don't want mam and Joe askin' too many questions about where
I've bin.'

We stopped just behind the front door for yet another lingering kiss, and
then I watched him wander off down the street, feeling suddenly worried.
How long could this go on?









Nearly three weeks later I was in my office in London, plodding through
some paperwork and looking forward to the evening train home and then
probably meeting Wayne when I got back, as I had for the last three weeks.
He'd had an interview for the kitchen porter job the previous afternoon.
Getting that far had done a lot for his confidence, since he'd tried and
failed a few times before and, as I pointed out to him, it was a lot
further than most applicants would get.  He was very nervous about the
interview, but we'd had sat down a few days before and worked out some
likely questions and good answers to them.  He knew it all anyway: it was
just a matter of helping him to get over his nerves and put his thoughts in
order.  I'd kissed him and wished him the best of luck before I went, and
then been faintly surprised by how anxiously I'd waited for his call when
it was over.  Eventually he'd phoned me in the evening to say he thought it
had gone okay, but he wasn't sure.  I'd been at a work function and
couldn't talk for long, but I'd promised him we'd talk properly about it
that night.

I wanted to see him anyway.  He'd become part of life, and I'd come to miss
him when he wasn't there.  He'd got into the habit of popping round for an
hour or two in the afternoon or early evening for a chat, and usually more
than that.  I drifted off briefly into happy recollections of a couple of
afternoons before, making love urgently and then lying with him in a
sweaty, contented tangle of legs and arms.  Moments like that were lovely,
but it was even better when he slept over, for sharing the bed with him
just felt right.  His breathing shaded off into a light little snore, and
occasionally he would mumble and whisper as he dreamed.  I loved the sound
of him at peace, and the sweet smell of his skin and his hair, especially
when we lay close together, spooning as we often did.  I loved waking up
with him too; opening my eyes to his tousled bed-head and sleepy little
smile, and his morning glory rising against my leg as he snuggled up to me.
The ringing of my phone jerked me back to reality, and I saw it was him.

 `Hiya!  Guess what!  I got the job!'

`Really?! '

`Yup!  I'm startin' next week, Monday mornin'.'

`Oh that's brilliant news!  Well done you!'

`Aye, I'm well pleased.  I couldn't've done it without you.  Thank you so
much.'

`Oh it's nothing.  Everything in that application was your words: I just
helped put them in order.'

`Yeah, but ... well, you know, you're good at puttin' thoughts in order,
aren't you.  Anyhow, are you still gettin' back tonight?  Really wanna see
you an' ... well, an' give you a big kiss to say thank you!'

`Now I like the sound of that!  Yeah, I'll be back on the train that gets
in just after 11.'

`Okay, I'll meet you at bus stop.'

I was grinning as I put the phone down, well pleased for him.

A few hours later I passed him on the bus.  I couldn't help but notice how
he was carrying himself.  When I'd first met him he'd walked with his hood
up and head down, looking a bit vulnerable no matter how much he tried to
swagger.  Now he was striding along the avenue with his head up and an air
of quiet confidence about him, and I felt pleased for seeing it.  I got to
the stop before him.  He was beaming as he walked up, and all I could do
was smile helplessly back at him.  It'd have been nice to fall straight
into one another's arms, but that was risky, and we set straight off for my
place, making small talk about my day and the train journey, casting hungry
glances at one another as we went.  No sooner were we in through the front
door than he pushed me back against the wall and kissed me passionately.
We tumbled upstairs, lips locked together, fumbling with one another's
clothes.

`Fook me,' he whispered urgently as we stumbled through the bedroom door,
his jeans slipping down to his knees.  `Bin thinkin' of you all day,
wantin' you in me.'

`Pass me a condom.'

`No condom ... cum in me, please!'

I pushed him down onto the bed and tore down his pants.  He thrust his bare
bottom eagerly back towards me, exposing his hole for me to daub lube round
it.  Then I grabbed his hips and went right in.  He squealed as I thrust
deeper and deeper into his warm, soft inside, pulled back and went in
again.

`Oh!  Oh my God that feels so fucking good!  Do it hard ... make it hurt!'

So I did, fucking him until he was crying out aloud with pleasure, pausing
to pull him upright, tear off his top and kiss his neck passionately.  He
pulled me down on top of him and we collapsed forward across the bed,
writhing together sweatily, me biting at his neck and shoulders and ears as
he gripped me tightly inside him.

`Ooh, gonna cum...'

`Oh, inside me ... cum in me ... ooh!'

He squeezed my cock tight as I fired deep into him, then when I pulled out
he rolled on his back, gave a few quick tugs of his cock and spunked all
over his tummy and chest.  He snuggled up to me and pillowed his head on my
shoulder, tilting his face up for a long, slow kiss, looking deep into one
another's eyes as we drew apart.

`You're lovely,' I said tenderly, trying and failing to find words for how
I felt about him right then.

`So are you...'  His lip trembled, as if he was trying to put something
else into words and failing, and he tightened his arms around me and buried
his face in my neck.  We fell asleep in each other's arms.

`One thing bothers me a bit,' I said, as we sat with a coffee and some
toast the next morning.

`Aye?'

`Look, all the time we're spending together... How much longer are your
family going to think you're knocking off some lass?  Aren't they going to
start asking questions sometime?'

`Nah, not really.  They just let me get on wi' it.  I never took me last
girlfriend home ... I was only seein' her a couple of month, like, but they
didn't ask about her really in that time.  Me mam might, but ... well, it's
Joe.  He don't give a fook about me or Jade, me sister, an' it's like the
rest of us can't talk when he's about. `

`He doesn't actually live with you though, does he?'

`No, `e's got `is own place, but it's a shit-pit an' `e's always round at
ours, spongin' off me mam.  `E's there more often'n not.  Anyhow, I
wouldn't trust `im with any lass I brought home ... well, y'know, he likes
the lasses, and when he's pissed...'

`Fuck's sake.'

`Yeah,' said Wayne, his face darkening.  `He's a nightmare.  Life'd be so
much easier if he'd just fook off.  Mebbe then I wouldn't have to `ide like
this.'








I didn't see so much of Wayne for the next six weeks or so.  His job was
only part-time but he had to work a couple of evenings a week, and as luck
would have it they didn't often coincide with my days away.  Time spent
together became more precious, and when we got it we always made the best
of it.  We spent hours on the sofa drinking tea and talking, becoming more
and more open as we got to know each other more deeply.  He came to know
the ins and outs of how I'd smoked far too much cannabis since I was a
student, become dependent on it and ended up with a few mental health
problems that were still affecting me, months after I'd finally managed to
quit.  I told him about the dark depression I'd sunk into a few years
before and only recently emerged from.  In turn I heard about his family
history, how much he loved his mum and wished she could do better than his
adulterous, lying father and then drunken, violent Joe.  He cried as he
related some of what he'd had to live with as he grew up, but as he
described how in what little ways he could he tried to make life easier for
those he loved I began to understand that, for all that he was a sensitive
soul, he was no pushover.  He was feisty and determined, passionate about
things he cared about, and his quiet, shy faηade hid a hot temper and a
sharp, inquisitive mind.  It took a while to realise just how sharp, for he
was shy about expressing an opinion on things; probably a hangover from
school, where to be seen to try too hard or be a bit too clever had been to
make himself a target.  Having had a hard time in the first couple of
years, he'd come to regard his natural bookishness as something to be
hidden away, like his sexuality, and instead he'd fitted in with what most
of his mates were up to.

`I was a horrible kid for the teachers,' he said ruefully.  `I just didn't
do owt, an' then when they put me in detention I didn't turn up.  I were
always skivin' an' gettin' into fights too.  Wish I'd tried a bit `arder
now.'

Despite that he read obsessively at home – when he could – and
although books didn't feature much at his house he'd spent hours online,
and on subjects that interested him he was formidably well informed.  I
realised that one day when he came round as I was watching the news one
day, saw one of the headlines and launched into an animated explanation of
what was happening and why.  Then he caught my eye and blushed.

`Sorry, I'll shut up,' he said awkwardly.

`No, don't.  You know way more about this than I do.  So are you saying
that...?'

We ranged over all sorts of areas, agreeing and disagreeing, laughing and
crying together, and always wanting more.  We never – as he pointed out
– found each other boring, and even though our life experiences were
wildly different we seemed to see the world in a similar kind of way.  The
difference was, I lived life in a state of perpetual impatience, whereas he
was calm and laid back, eyeing the world with a philosophical air and a
cynical sense of humour which concealed an underlying optimism about life
that I didn't share but found stimulating all the same.  He said he'd
already come to think of me as his best friend, and I was feeling the same.
For all the differences between us in age and life experience, we just
seemed to understand one another.  The sex was only getting better too.  We
got tested together for complete peace of mind, and gave up using condoms
almost entirely when the all-clear came back, for we both preferred sex
without them.  Wayne loved being fucked: deep and slow and gentle in bed,
or a quick hard fuck bent over the kitchen table with his pants round his
knees.  He loved it, and I loved doing it to him.  I loved the feeling of
being inside him; how his body responded to every move; the long, deep,
ecstatic orgasms he had, and then the tenderness he showed afterwards.  It
was just a shame that now we had less time to spend together.

`I miss you,' he said plaintively, lying in bed one afternoon.  `Bein' on
dole was shit but at least we could see each other when we wanted, `cept
when you were away of course.'

Yet he was enjoying the job.  It was quite hard work and he was getting all
the menial tasks – `skivvyin' an' washin' up,' as he wryly described it
– but he was sticking at it, and from what he told me the rest of the
staff were impressed with how hard he worked and how keen he was to learn.
After all, as he put it, `If I'm there to cover someone else when they go
off sick or summat and I mek a good job of it, that's gonna make me look
good.'  The head chef had already noted his attitude and praised him to the
owner, and now he was first in line for more hours if any became available,
he told me proudly.  He liked the feeling he was achieving something and
had a reason to get out of bed in the mornings, he said, and he was
enjoying having more money in his pocket as well.  We'd gone shopping in
town together a couple of times, and now he was sporting a smart new jacket
and some shoes he'd saved up for.

`Bet we look like a proper gay couple, shoppin' together like this,' he
grinned one Saturday afternoon, as we came out of the big department store
opposite the station clutching our carrier bags and went for a cup of
coffee.  `Be goin' to Ikea together next!'

He wasn't seeing that much of his old crowd either.  Being in work gave him
an excuse to avoid them more often, and anyway, he'd become friendly with a
couple of older girls at work and started going out with them.  He hadn't
told them he was gay, he said, but they'd probably guessed as much and
they'd taken him under their wing a bit.

`Turnin' into a real gay boy me, wi' me fag `ags an' everything,' he
chuckled.

`Yeah, and you've started going to the gym!'

`You ain't complainin' though, are you?  Least, you weren't the other night
when you was sayin' `ow nice me pecs an' arse are these days!'

`Too right I'm not!' I laughed.  `You look gorgeous.'

'Gonna get me tattoo done next week as well, not so far, but just mek it a
bit bigger so it goes further up an' down me arm.  You reckon I should?'

'Mm, yes.  I like your tattoo.  Looks really sexy on you.'

Things were changing at home too.  Joe had made a few difficulties about
Wayne going out to work, but Wayne's mum, with his quiet backing, had stood
up to him and told him it was none of his business, and that he wasn't to
go trying to scrounge money off him either.  She'd even dropped a couple of
hints about splitting up with him altogether.

`I'm talkin' to me mam more an' more now,' he said thoughtfully, sipping
his coffee.  `Like we're both grown-ups, not me bein' a kid any more.  I'm
thinkin' ... well, I might tell `er about us, like.'

`Wayne, are you sure?  I mean, I don't like it being a secret and it'd be
nice not to have to hide away like this, but you did say you thought she'd
kick you out if you told her you were gay.'

`Ye-es,' he said slowly.  `But I think it's kind of different now.  She
... well, thing is, it was me dad who hated gay people – used to say
he'd kick me or Jade out if we were, like – and she kind of went along
wi' that, and then wi' Joe too after dad left.  He's the same.  She ain't
ever really said much about it `erself.  She'll not be very `appy I don't
think, if she finds out I'm gay, but I'm startin' to think it's best she
knows.'

`Well, you know best.  But be careful, especially with Joe.  He could get
really nasty.'

`I know,' he said soberly.  `Anyhow, I'm not goin' to do anythin' quite
yet.  I'll see `ow things pan out next few weeks.  Come on, let's get bus
`ome and...'

He shot me a sexy little smile and a wink, and we finished our coffee and
set out into the winter sunshine.  The bus was busy and we sat next to one
another upstairs, legs touching, exchanging little glances that clearly
said, `I want to fuck you.'

Back at my place we went straight to bed for the kind of long, slow,
leisurely afternoon sex we'd not had for a while.

`I've not `ad a wank for two days,' he grinned, lying naked across the bed
with his lovely cock as swollen as I'd ever seen it.  `Horny as fook!'

`But you wank three times a day!  Your balls must be ready to burst!'

`Aye.  I'm gonna shoot such a load.  Wanna cum all over you!'

His cock was oozing pre-cum without my even touching it.  It dripped from
him as he knelt, bottom in the air and face buried in the pillows,
whimpering and sighing as I gave him a long, slow rimming, wanking him and
stroking his balls from behind as I did.

`Oh!' he grunted, jerking upright.  `Feel like I'm gonna cum soon.'

I lay back and he straddled me, waving his pulsing cock in my face, sighing
with pleasure as I ran my tongue all over it, teasing his balls, licking my
forefinger until it was nice and slippery for me to slip it up his bum.  He
rode it gently, thrusting his cock in my mouth as he did so.  The end came
suddenly.

`Fook, here I go!'

He jerked back out of my mouth, forcing my finger even deeper into his
hole.  His dick pointed straight at my face.  There was a split second's
pause as his pretty face contorted, and then he shot.  I'd never seen so
much cum in my life.  He cried out as great gouts of it shot from his slit
and spattered all over my face and chest and into my mouth.  It was warm
and sticky.  It felt awesome.  Slowly, as I withdrew my finger from his
bottom, his breathing came back to normal.

`I love watching you cum,' I said gently, as he wiped up the mess.  `Your
face is so ... sweet as you do it.'

He grinned coyly and lay down, half on top of me.  We lay there for ages,
kissing, stroking, teasing, tickling bottoms and backs and nipples and
tummies; revelling in just being able to give each other pleasure like
this.  He wriggled himself tighter alongside me, smiling blissfully and I
felt his dick stiffening again as we kissed.  His hand slid down my back
and between my cheeks, probing gently where he'd never gone before, and I
opened my legs wider to let him, moaning with the sensation of his fingers
in my crack.  He worked his tongue all over my neck and into my ear.

`I wanna fook you,' he whispered urgently.

`Really?!  You want to?!'

`Yeah, big time.  Can I tek you up the ass, nice an' slow?'

`Yes ... yes ... I'd love you to!'

Kneeling up, I hunched over him and began to suck him, running my tongue
softly over every wrinkle of the gorgeous cock that would soon be in me,
wanting it more than anything else in the world.

`No ... no!' he grunted, pushing my head back.  `Stop, stop or you'll mek
me cum!  Put a condom on me.'

I rolled the condom down over his shaft and knelt, anticipating with every
fibre of my body what he was about to do to me as he dabbed a little lube
around my hole and advanced on me.  Then his thick head was nudging
urgently at my ringpiece and I gave a little push to ease its passage.

`Oh ... oh my God!'

He was inside me suddenly.  I hadn't been fucked for years and it hurt a
bit, but it was wonderful.  Slowly, carefully he came further in, pushing
deep until his pubes tickled my bottom.  He bent forward over me, his hands
searching out mine, his lips and tongue busy on my shoulders and neck,
twisting my head round to kiss as he began to move, pulling out and in
again, and again, and again.

`Oh ... oh ... oh!'

I couldn't help but cry out with each thrust he gave, so powerful was the
sensation.  Him deep inside me, his hands squeezing mine and wanking my
cock, his tongue butterflying everywhere it could reach... it was the most
intense, most wonderful thing I'd ever felt.

`You like this, don't you,' he hissed into my ear.  `Like `avin' me in you,
don't you; fookin' squealin' like this ... an' that!'

He thrust harder and I howled, gripping his hand tight in exquisite pain,
bucking my hips to drive him even deeper in, feeling myself starting to
lose control completely, getting close and closer to cumming even as his
grunts grew harsher and louder.  Then we were there, and he rammed his cock
deep inside against the spasms bursting through me.  Howling again, vision
blurry and tongue hanging out, sweat pouring from my face as cum oozed from
down below, I felt him suddenly bite hard into my neck and his dick jerked
and pulsated in me.

`Oh ... fucking hell ... Jesus that was incredible...' I sighed as he
pulled out.

He pulled me upright, running his hands all over my sweating, aching, tired
body, bringing me down from the high with kisses and smiles and touches.
Exhausted, I flopped down onto the bed and he snuggled himself in alongside
me, nuzzling my neck affectionately.

`I ... I've wanted to do that for ages,' he said, almost bashfully.  `I
mean, I love havin' you fook me, but I wanted to do it to you too.  Feels
kind of ... different, y'know ... in a good way!'

`It feels amazing,' I grinned at him.  `You feel amazing inside me.
Honest, I've thought about you fucking me too a couple of times, but didn't
know if you'd want to, or whether you were just ... well, you know, a
bottom, as they call it.'

`Reckon I'm both,' he grinned.  `So are you too ... and that's awesome.'
He sighed contentedly, and then his face grew suddenly serious.  `So, can I
... well, can I call you me boyfriend?' he asked, hesitantly.

I laughed.  We'd not had that conversation or anything like it but, I
realised, I was starting to regard him that way.  Certainly I'd stopped
looking for anyone else, and I realised my feelings for him were getting
steadily stronger as time went on.  And here and now, on this exquisite
afternoon together, the answer to his question was very obvious.

`Of course you can.  God you're lovely: you're such a sweetheart.'

`So are you,' he smiled.

`And look,' I said, getting suddenly serious.  `About telling your mum, and
everything else.  It's up to you what you do there, but you know that
whatever happens I'll be here for you.'

`I know.  An' you've no idea how much better that makes me feel.'








Not long afterwards I came down with the flu.  It hit me suddenly and hard.
One evening I was fine: the next morning I woke up more ill than I'd been
for years.  For four days I felt so groggy and exhausted that I could
hardly get out of bed, and all I could do was lie and sweat out the fever.
Wayne was wonderful.  He came round as often as he could get away from work
and home to help out and keep me company.  He made me up the sofa bed in
the living room so I didn't have to bother going up and downstairs to the
kitchen and bathroom, and assembled a pile of books and DVDs to keep me
amused.  He did some shopping for me, cooked what little food I was up to
eating, and kept me plied with tea and fruit juice and medicines.  Best of
all, though, was simply that he was there, always kind and solicitous and
sympathetic, trying to make things as easy and comfortable as they could
be.  He'd have made a magnificent nurse.

`You shouldn't be doing this,' I croaked, lying feebly in bed as he dabbed
a cool sponge on my sweaty forehead.  `You'll get it too.'

`Nah I'll be okay,' he said airily, and then turned away, put a hand over
his mouth as I coughed and pointed to the hand sanitizer he carried with
him.  `I'm bein' careful.  An' anyhow, if I do get it I got me mam to look
after me.  I can't leave you `ere on your own when you're as poorly as
this, can I?'

`But ... what about work?  Do they know I'm ill?'

`Yeah.  Well, not you; not me boyfriend, like.  I tell `em me sister got it
an' they don't ask no more.  S'okay unless I start with it.  Now, I gotta
go `ome an' get ready for work in a bit.  Is there owt else you need afore
I go?'

I shook my head, smiling gratefully at him, and he took my hand.

`You're startin' to look a bit better anyhow, an' your temperature's down a
bit today if I read thermometer right.  Bit o' luck you'll be fine in a few
days.'

He blew me a kiss before he let himself out, leaving me reflecting on him,
and me, and what was happening between us.  Much as I liked him, I
realised, I was a bit troubled by how much younger than me he was.  Maybe
Graham's scepticism had started to get to me, and I knew my parents, whom
I'd told about him recently, weren't very keen either.  Part of me wanted
just to ignore my doubts and enjoy the moment; the other part suspected
that unless I did something to quell them soon the doubts would only grow
and maybe end up spoiling everything.  Lying awake in the early hours of
the next morning, feverish and sweaty, I resolved to talk it through with
him sometime soon.  That started me worrying again about how he'd react to
my doing that; whether he'd see my point of view or whether he'd take
offence my starting that kind of conversation.  If he did, I thought in a
rational moment, then maybe that should show that he really was too
immature for it to work.  Then I cursed myself for being so cold about it
and realised that I'd be gutted if I scared him away, even though it might
be for the best in the long run.  Torn between my heart and my head, I
slipped back into a fitful, troubled sleep.






Two days later I was up and about, feeling much better and starting to put
the house back into order, when he came round.  I didn't really mean to
start a serious conversation about `us.'  It just kind of happened, as we
sat in the living room that still smelled of illness.

`I always did fancy older guys,' he mused, sipping his tea.  `Men, like,
not boys.'

`How much older?'

`Well, summat like your age; about ten years older'n me.  Not guys old
enough to be me dad – I don't want a daddy – but not guys me own age
either.  I jus' ain't attracted to `em.  But you...'

`A thirty-something with more hair on my back than my head!'

`Mmm, that's what I like though.  You're ... you're a man; a real man, not
some pretty-boy.  You're beautiful ... I mean, really gorgeous, an' I fancy
you like mad!  You're a proper manly guy, but ... well, you're so sweet as
well.  But it ain't jus' about `ow you look or `ow good you are in bed.'

`Heh...'

`Ooh you are!  I always thought doin' it wi' a guy would be good, but nowt
like it is wi' you.  You fook me like a real man an' I love it!  But it's
... well, you been about a bit, you seen summat of life, an' ... an' I love
talkin' with you.  It's like ... like I learn from you, y'know?'

`But ... you don't want a daddy, and you don't want a teacher either, do
you?'

`Course I don't,' he laughed.  `But that ain't what I meant.  I jus' like
being with people who seen summat a bit different from me.  Or mebbe clever
people, an' you're certainly that, ain't you.  I don't ever get bored
talkin' to you or `avin' you about, an' I don't reckon I ever could.  You
just got an amazin' mind, an' you make me think an' see everythin'
different, and...'

He tailed off, looking bashful.  I raised an eyebrow.

`Oh ... I don't know `ow to say it really.  It's summat about `ow you mek
me feel.  Confident, like; content; `appy like I not felt before.  You mek
me believe in meself, if you know what I mean.'

He reached out and took my hand.

`Look, I know what you're thinkin',' he said gently.  `We're different,
ain't we, an' I'm so much younger than you.  But that don't matter to me,
an' ... an' well, I like older guys, an' you like younger ones, don't you?
You like bein' ... well, the experienced one, I guess.  Like when you said
you'd `elp me come out, an' that.  But you ain't some ol' fooker tryin' to
be me daddy.  So, no problem to me.  see?!'

I couldn't have been more impressed with him then.  It was pretty obvious
that he'd been thinking along much the same lines as me, and he'd read how
I was feeling probably more accurately than I could myself.  Yet again I
realised that, for all he lacked confidence in himself, he was anything but
stupid, and mature way beyond his years.

`Serious,' he said, taking my hand.  `I know what I'm gettin' into, an' I
understand why you ain't so sure.  That's alright.  Jus' ... well, give it
a chance to work, eh?  `Cos it can.  I know it can.'

`You know what?  I believe you.  I really do.  You're...'

I tailed off, slightly lost for words.  He smiled.

`Come `ere, eh?'

I still wasn't well enough to take him up to bed, but we sprawled on the
sofa together, for the first time in more than a week, and he lay in my
arms for a long time.  When he left, saying he ought to get home before
people asked questions, I realised I wanted nothing more than to have him
back.








I went down to stay with family for a few days over Christmas, and
inevitably they asked a lot of questions about my young boyfriend.  They
still weren't convinced it was a good idea, I thought, but I'd at least rid
them of the impression that sex was all there was to our relationship.  The
fact they heard us talking for so long, about so many different things,
probably helped to dispel a few impressions they'd formed about him.  By
the time I left my mum was saying she wanted to meet him.  Wayne was
working over most of the festive season.  I had thought he might be a bit
unhappy about it, but he said he was looking forward to making some good
overtime money and not having to spend too much time at home.  We talked on
the phone almost every day, sometimes for hours.  `I can't wait for you to
get back,' he said eagerly, the day before I was due to head home.  `I miss
you.  I'm really lookin' forward to New Year.'

`Me too.  It's gonna be lovely.'

He and I had a little night in together planned for New Year's Eve, with a
special meal and a couple of bottles of wine.  He was working the next day,
but it would be nice to spend the evening together, and the night too of
course.  There'd been a bit of an awkward moment, he told me on the phone,
when Daz and another mate had asked him if he wanted to go to a club they'd
managed to get tickets for.

`Fook that,' he said firmly.  `Watchin' all them get off their `eads an'
ask why I'm not tryin' to pull lasses ... no ta!  I told `em I'm workin'
early New Year's Day an' havin' a night at `ome wi' mam.'

`What did they say?'

`Daz tell me I'm a borin' bastard.  Oh well, let `em think what they want.
Seeya tomorrow.'

I passed most of the long train journey back the next day sipping tea and
watching the countryside slide by, musing on how excited I felt at the
prospect of seeing him again, and smiling to myself as I anticipated what
would no doubt happen later.  I got home late afternoon, and I'd not long
finished unpacking my bags and sorting out my laundry when he knocked on
the door.  His smile was like a sunbeam.  He plonked the bag of ingredients
on the kitchen table and turned to me, fingers twining gently into mine.

`Oh God it's so good to see you,' he breathed, noses almost touching and
his breath warm on my face.

I ran my finger down his back, fondled his bottom and drew him in closer.
All of a sudden I could feel his cock stiffening through his trousers as he
pressed himself against me.  He kissed harder, tongue probing deeper into
my mouth, and then we were tumbling upstairs, treading off shoes and socks
as we went, until we lay on the bed together, snogging passionately with
our hands all over one another.  He sighed deep in his throat as I sucked
his tongue, wanked him through his pants and then slowly pulled off his
top.  His tummy was toned and taut, with just the beginnings of a six-pack
thanks to all that time in the gym.  His skin tasted lovely, and he sighed
in pleasure again as I sucked long and hard on his tits.  Then he sat up
convulsively and pulled my top off, and we settled back again, kissing and
fondling one another through our trousers.

`Turn over,' I whispered, unbuckling his belt.

His back tasted delectable too, and he moaned still louder as I ran my
tongue all over it, and then down to his waistband, following his pants
down as I pulled them slowly off.  He helped me take them off completely
and lay face down, a pillow under his hips and his bottom sticking out.

`Oh yes,' he sighed as I ran my tongue down between his buttocks.

His arse was as sweet as ever and he moaned louder and louder as I rimmed
him.  He popped his head up as I stopped, rolled on his back and watched,
smiling, as I took my pants off and knelt over him, my cock in his face.
He licked and sucked at it reverently, looking up into my eyes, then pulled
me down for a kiss.

`Fook me babe,' he whispered, wrapping his legs around my back.  `I really
want you inside me.'

There was nothing I wanted to do more.  I worked back down his body,
licking all over his chest and nipples and tummy, and then back down
between his legs, tonguing his balls and thighs and bottom as he whimpered
and writhed and stroked my hair, then passed me the lube.  He whimpered
again as I pressed my cock against his tight, hot hole, kissed me hard, and
then squealed as I pushed forward into him, wrapping his legs around me
again and using them to pull me right inside him until his head went back
and he moaned his pleasure into my ear.  I fucked him slow and deep,
looking into his eyes and kissing him often, revelling in the sensations he
was giving me and the taste of his mouth and his skin.  We began to do it
harder, Wayne using his legs to pull me inside him more forcefully,
grunting and sighing how he wanted me to cum in him.

`Oh!  Oh ... ooh, gonna cum soon ... fook, cumming!'

His voice was suddenly high-pitched, his legs gripping me tight, holding me
inside him as his muscles clenched tight around my cock and his face
contorted.  Then the dam burst.  I felt him cumming, his cock oozing sticky
spunk all over our sweaty bodies and as his insides relaxed their grip I
gave a few quick thrusts, and kissed him passionately on the mouth as I
came inside him.  We held one another tight as the orgasmic wave subsided.

`Oh, that was wonderful,' he sighed.

We dressed and sat down and caught up a bit over a cup of tea.  His
Christmas had been okay in the end, he said.  He'd been worried that Joe
would get drunk and stroppy and spoil it for all of them, even when they
all went round to his mum's sister's family for a meal on Boxing Day, but
in the event he'd been alright.

`Passed out on fookin' sofa most of the time,' he said.  `Not good, but
better'n bein' pissed an' loud an' acting like a wanker all time.'

Work had been good for him too.  The head chef had been as good as his word
about finding him more hours, and he'd worked a string of long shifts, even
doing twelve hours on Christmas day.  He was tired, he said, but he didn't
mind.  If nothing else he'd earned himself a tidy amount of money.

`Are you sure you wanna cook tea this evening?' I asked, grinning.  `Sounds
to me as if you've done more than enough in the kitchen for the last couple
of weeks!'

`Yeah, but s'different innit?  That's work, but I cook for you cos I want
to.  Anyhow, we ain't `avin' turkey an' Christmas pudding!  Proper sick o'
the sight of them, I am!  Shall we go an' get on with it?'

Hours later we were curled up on the sofa together, pleasantly full of
delicious food, watching a bit of the New Year celebrations on the TV.  He
stirred in my arms and lifted his face to mine with a sweet, tired little
smile.

`S'gettin' late,' he said softly.  `Bedtime soon?'

He was very close again, looking deep into my eyes and squeezing my hand
tightly.  I nodded.  All of a sudden there was nowhere either of us wanted
to be more than in bed together again.  We worked our way upstairs slowly,
hands entwined, stopping to kiss at the turn of the stairs, and then at the
bedroom door, and then as we sank down onto the bed together.  His lips
were soft and caressing, his tongue playing gently with mine as we began to
undress each other, spending a long time kissing and touching and stroking
chests and nipples.  Then I kissed him hard on the mouth again, rubbing his
erection through his jeans, pushed him down on his back and undid his belt,
and he arched his back to let me pull his pants off.  He lay there naked,
idly stroking his cock, and I couldn't resist going down on him for the
second time that evening.  As I licked and sucked he pulled me round so I
was straddling his face and pulled down my trousers as well, and I had to
get off him to take them right off.  I lay down next to him and we kissed
yet again, very long and deep, before he ran his lips and tongue all over
my neck and cheek and ear, and I did the same for him.

`You taste so fucking good,' I whispered, dropping a kiss on his sweet
smile.  `I just wanna lick you all over.'

`Mmm, do it.  Your tongue feels so nice.'

I went down on him again, kissing all over his exquisite body, and then
pushing his legs back to expose his nether regions.  He smiled
encouragingly, and threw back his head and moaned as I buried my face in
him.  I spent ages licking his thighs and balls and running my tongue all
over his perineum, revelling in the taste and the sighs and moans that
betrayed his pleasure.  He stretched his hands down to take mine, smiling
again, knowing where I was going to go next, and I looked up into his eyes.

`I wanna lick your arse; give you a real fucking good rimming.'

Even as I finished saying it I went back between his legs.  I nuzzled his
balls with my nose, then went to the side to kiss his cheeks again and
again, getting closer and closer in.  Then, very slowly, I put out my
tongue and began to tease his hole.  His hands tightened in mine.

`Ooh ... oh yeah Marcus.  Oh!  Fook that's good!  Oh that feels so good...'

He moaned and grunted and began to writhe as I kept rimming him.

`Turn over!'

He wriggled round and lay on his front, shoving a couple of pillows under
him so his bottom stuck out and I could really bury my face in it, and he
cried out aloud as I tongue-fucked him.

`Oh!  Oh!  Give me your cock Marcus!  Fook me!  Do it to me please!

His hand scrabbled for the lube.  I daubed a bit round his hole, wriggled
up on top of him and thrust my cock hard up his arse.  He moaned as I
pulled back, and then went into him again and again.

`Oh yeah ... oh ... oh yeah ... like that.  Harder Marcus, harder!  Make it
hurt!'

So I did.  We fucked like animals, sweating and writhing and grunting, his
hand gripping mine ever more tightly as his cries got higher and higher.
Then suddenly he just exploded inside.  He buried his face in the pillow
and screamed as the spasms of orgasm burst through him.  I was cumming too,
deep in his pulsating, tight insides, moaning my ecstasy into his ear.
Then it was over and we sank into one another's affectionate arms, sweaty
and tender and satisfied.  As we looked into one another's eyes we both
found ourselves smiling helplessly at each other.

`Happy New Year sweetheart,' I whispered.

`An' you.  You gonna make this year real special for me.  I know it.'

`I hope so, and I wanna spend as much of this year with you as I can.'

`Aw, you're lovely you are.  You ... oh I feel so `appy right now.  Mmm,
come here; I jus' wanna cuddle up to you.'

He snuggled down in my arms and buried his face in my chest, sighing
happily as I kissed his forehead and nuzzled into his hair, and we lay like
that for a long time, completely contented and at ease with each other.  We
wriggled slightly apart as we fell asleep, legs still intertwined and his
hand on mine.  When we woke up to the New Year he'd turned over, and he
lifted my arm to his face and nuzzled his face into the hair of my arm.

`Mmm,' he murmured contentedly.  `Man.  My man.'

I tightened my arm around him again, and we drifted back to sleep together.



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