Chapter 22

Suddenly, I was more anxious than I was excited. Maybe it would have been better to just start kissing, then whatever happened next would follow naturally. But we'd got into bed with the express idea of having sex. I was convinced I would be the one to fuck up, and my erection wilted. My heart raced, my palms sweated, and my guts churned as I imagined that first time again. He liked my fingers, but the minute I tried to put my dick in him, he freaked out. That would happen again. He'd think about what happened when he was twelve—being pinned down by some man; violated; left bleeding. Or, I'd get in him and he'd tense up and be in pain and then I'd feel like crap too. I'd never felt less like fucking in my life.

"Travis." Arthur touched my face. "Stop worrying. I'm fine."

I laughed nervously. "Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe we should have just started kissing and let whatever happens next, happen."

"I was thinking that." I laughed some more.

"You sound like me. Laughing when you're anxious." He smiled gently. He seemed strangely relaxed and unworried.

"Maybe I should take some of your pills."

"They don't stop me laughing. They're only supposed to stop me doing crazy things and thinking they're normal." He moved closer and pressed himself against me. His dick was half hard, and it prodded my stomach. "We don't have to do anything tonight. I know you haven't done this before either." He pressed his mouth to my ear and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I could suck you if you want."

Immediately, I remembered how it felt with his mouth on me. The stupid thoughts in my head faded, and my soft dick began to swell. Arthur laughed softly. "You're so easy to get going. All I have to do is remind you of that. Sucking you. Licking you. Making you come in my mouth."

"Fucking hell, Arthur," I groaned. My erection was back, rock hard against his.

He laughed, not hysterically, but with genuine amusement. Then he blew in my ear, a soft puff of warm air that made my spine quiver. Who would have thought that someone as awkward and inexperienced as Arthur, could be so damn sexy? I rolled him onto his back.

"Stop teasing me. Where's the lube?"

"Here." He groped under the Christmas tree for it and passed it to me. I coated my fingers. Arthur spread his legs and pulled his knees up, then drew me into a kiss. I thrust my tongue into his mouth as I gently pressed one finger inside him. My dick throbbed and leaked, sliding against his hip as I explored him, making him squirm and gasp when I found his prostate. "More. Please," he urged.

I added a second finger, meeting only slight resistance. He relaxed and released a long breath. I pushed in farther, curling my fingertips up to massage the small bump that drove him wild.

"Fuck!" He rolled his head back. I felt the sting of his nails on my shoulders.

I grinned. "I bet you could come like this."

"Yeah. But I want more." He opened his eyes and met mine in the dim light. "I'm ready. I'm okay."

"All right." I slid my fingers out and took a moment to slick my erection with lube. The cool fluid made me twitch and jerk, and I resisted the temptation to stroke myself a few times. Instead, I moved between his legs, taking my weight on my knees and one elbow. I reached down to guide myself, my heart thundering in my chest and my hand shaking. I kept my gaze locked with Arthur's, watching for any sign he was starting to panic.

"I'm okay," he repeated. "I love you, Travis."

I pushed in and the head of my dick slid past his tight ring of muscle. I stopped and hovered there, convinced it must be uncomfortable for him. He stroked his hands down my back and cupped my arse. I eased in more, my body shaking with the effort of holding back when I ached to drive myself balls deep with one thrust. Arthur's brow wrinkled a little, and his breathing quickened. His eyes were half closed.

"Look at me," I whispered. "You're okay. It's me."

He looked up again and met my eyes. "I'm fine. It's fine. You can move." He relaxed again. "It doesn't hurt."

I brushed my lips against his. "I love you." I began to move, tiny shallow thrusts, barely an inch each way. My balls pulled up and my thighs trembled. I was so fucking close already, just from the incredible heat and tightness gripping my dick. But more than that, it was the knowledge that I was fucking—no, making love to—the person who was everything to me. I slipped my hand between us and began stroking him, slow and firm, urging him along with me.

"Don't, I'll come," he gasped.

"I hope so. I'm not gonna last long." I drew back almost to my tip and thrust back in more firmly. Arthur grunted and bucked up against me. We fell into a slightly clumsy rhythm, me off-balance with one hand between us, jerking him erratically. It was too much all at once—the feel of being inside him; his erection, hard and wet in my hand; the sound of him gasping and moaning. I groaned with both pleasure and frustration as my orgasm rushed through me, my dick pulsing and shooting inside him. I stayed there, buried deep, willing myself to stay hard as I stroked him off.

It didn't take long. He arched under me, and warm fluid spattered across my belly and dribbled over my hand. He clenched tight around me, making my over-sensitive softening penis twitch. I shuddered, and carefully withdrew. When I would have slid off him, he wrapped his arms tight around me and pulled me down onto him.

We lay there, clinging to each other. The only sound in the room was our breathing, still harsh and erratic. Eventually, I rolled over onto my back, taking Arthur with me. He nestled against my side and kissed my neck.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

"Yeah. It didn't hurt. It's just really wet." He sniggered.

"Should I have pulled out?"

"No. I like it. I didn't think about it at all. You know, what happened when I was a kid. It was just you and me. I knew I could trust you."

I kissed his temple and hugged him tighter. I hadn't known it was possible to love another person this much. I'd had so many doubts to start with, and now they were long gone.

We didn't move for a long time, until Arthur ran his hand over my stomach and grimaced. "We should probably shower."

I laughed. "I don't really want to move, but you're right." Reluctantly, I pulled away from him and lit two cigarettes. We smoked them before sharing the shower.

I watched Arthur closely, expecting him to wince or grimace as he moved around. I couldn't believe I hadn't caused him any discomfort, but he seemed fine. Perhaps I'd been careful enough for it to be okay.

We dried off and returned to bed to watch TV for a while. A Christmas Carol was on, and it turned out we both quite liked the story. We propped up the cushions to lean on and snuggled together as we watched Scrooge gradually turn from a nasty uncaring tight-arse into a loving, generous employer and friend.

"This is the best Christmas ever," Arthur said. "I always used to watch things like this—you know, Christmas movies—with other people enjoying their day, and wonder what it would be like to spend it with someone who cares for you. To actually have something to celebrate. What was it like when you were a kid?"

"Well, it was kinda quiet. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and my grandparents were dead, so it was just me and my parents. My mother died of cancer when I was twelve. My dad was strict and sometimes harsh. He was very religious. I guess that's why I'm not. I was brought up having it rammed down my throat, without being given the opportunity to make up my own mind.

"He was a construction worker. He had his own business and wanted me to join him. I only wanted to get away, and I joined the marines as soon as I was old enough. We had a big fight over it."

"Do you still see him?"

"No." I could barely remember the last time I'd seen my father. "I went home on leave after I finished my training. Some of my stuff was still there. He'd put it in the garage. He had a new woman he was planning to marry. He accused me of using his house as a hotel. We had another fight and I went back to my base. He never contacted me again, and I never went back home."

"Where was home? Here in the city?"

"Yeah." I lit another cigarette. "I'd love to see his face if he could see me now. He'd quote Leviticus at me. 'You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.'"

"That's from the Bible," Arthur said.

"Yeah. Another reason for me to not believe in that stuff."

"That's the main reason I don't. I've heard that passage before. We had to do religious studies in school. I knew I was gay when I was about fourteen or fifteen. Some of what we learned seemed to contradict itself. I'm an abomination, but at the same time, God supposedly loves all his children and forgives all. And if he loves us so much, why does he make us suffer? I never bought it."

I leaned over and kissed him. "The hell with anybody who's against this—you and me."

We slept in each other's arms that night as usual, knocked out by sleeping pills. I woke, groggy and disoriented, as daylight seeped into the room. Arthur was curled up with his back to me, his face buried in the pillow. I could tell by his breathing that he was awake.

I rolled over and wrapped my arm around him. When I kissed his ear, he stiffened. "Arthur? You okay?" I took my arm away and brushed his hair from his half-hidden face. He grunted and covered the exposed part of his face with his arm. I caught on immediately. It happened to me, too, sometimes. I'd have something good happen, and right after my depression kicked my arse.

I got up, made coffee and toast, and found Arthur's pills and my own. Arthur didn't move until I put the mug and plate under the Christmas tree, with his anti-depressants and his anti-psychotics on the plate with the toast. "Come on, get them down you."

"You should go to work," he muttered.

"I'm not going anywhere. It's the day after Christmas. I'm just gonna watch TV and stay right here."

"I'm sorry." He pulled himself up and reached for his coffee. "Last night was so perfect. You're so good to me, and I'm—" He sighed heavily. "Like this."

"But I get it. You know I do. Don't worry about it. Eat that toast so you can take your pills." I lit two cigarettes and passed him one.

"I don't deserve you. You could have so much better."

"There's none better for me than you, Arthur. I love you," I reminded him.

He laughed out a lungful of smoke. "I know, but—"

"But nothing. When I'm having one of my bad days, are you gonna walk away? Think you can do better?"

"Of course not." He paused and took another drag on his cigarette. "I guess we're a good fit. We understand each other."

"Absolutely." I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Eat your toast, take your pills, and get through the day. If you wanna talk, we can talk. If you don't, I'll just sit here and watch the TV."

He nodded and forced a thin smile. "Thank you, Travis."

We did exactly that. I watched the news, a movie, some daytime crap, and another movie. Arthur huddled under the bedcovers beside me, only moving to use the bathroom or smoke another cigarette. Eventually, he wriggled closer to me and snuggled into my arms. I hated seeing him so down, but he just had to get through it. He knew I was there for him, the same way he was there for me.