Chapter 11

When I opened my eyes it was still dark. For a moment I was disoriented until I realised I was in my own bed with Daniel. We hadn't moved in sleep and he was moulded to me with his leg hooked over me. He had pulled his head back and it rested on the pillow, his nose a couple of centimetres away from mine. I was hard and my clothed erection rested against his crotch. I stopped breathing and my pulse quickened. I should slide away from him but I couldn't move. My groin ached and I longed for just a little bit of friction. Did it really matter that it was Daniel I was with? He was hard, too, and as I thought about it, he moved and rubbed himself against me. He seemed to be asleep so I doubted it was intentional, but I couldn't suppress a soft groan of pleasure. I slid my hand down to his hip to push him off me and felt warm skin where his tee shirt had ridden up. My fingers crept around to the small of his back, and I held him against me instead of pushing him away.

His breathing changed and I knew he'd woken. Then he tensed as if he realised his predicament and intended to pull away. I didn't want him to. It felt too good, having him against me like this. It didn't matter, did it? I moved my face a little closer until our noses bumped. He breathed in suddenly and I felt his erection twitch against me. My heartrate rocketed and my breathing quickened. Then Daniel's lips brushed mine. It was barely a kiss—merely a light touch—before he pulled back a fraction and broke the connection. It seemed like an invitation—an indication of what he wanted, but leaving me to decide if I would accept it.

I covered his mouth with mine and pressed our lips more firmly together. I could barely breathe as I tentatively kissed him, angling my head a little so we fitted together perfectly. The tip of his tongue touched the inside of my upper lip, and I stroked his tongue with mine. He groaned and slid his arm around my neck.

I didn't think about what I was doing or what might happen next—I just went with instinct. Kissing him felt incredible. It stoked a fire in me that had been missing for a long time. I hadn't been with anyone since Monica and I decided to downgrade our marriage to friends almost eighteen months ago. I deepened the kiss and thrust my tongue into his mouth. He moaned and kissed me back harder. He caressed the back of my neck and ran his fingers through my hair. Then he stroked his way down over my chest and pulled up the front of my tee shirt to touch my stomach. My dick jumped and it was my turn to groan again. Daniel rolled his hips and rubbed himself against me, letting me feel more of his erection. His hand crept lower between us and cupped the straining bulge in my underwear. I tore my mouth from his. "Fuck."

His hand stilled. "Is this okay."

"Yes," I whispered breathlessly. There was no turning back now. I had to feel his hand on me or I'd explode. I reached down and pulled my dick free of my underwear. When Daniel's hand curled around it and gave me a couple of slow strokes, I almost bit through my lip. "Fucking Christ," I muttered.

He kissed the corner of my mouth and continued jerking me, slow and firm, and rubbed his thumb over my leaking tip. I pressed my face into his neck and slipped my hand under the back of his tee shirt. I explored smooth warm skin and followed the ridge of his spine up and down, then dipped my fingers into the back of his boxer briefs and squeezed his arse. He hummed his approval, then took his hand off me. I protested with a groan. He nibbled his way along my jaw as he fumbled between us, then grasped be again. This time he had his dick in his hand too, and he stroked us both together. I moaned and swore at the feel of his erection sliding again mine. He was wet with precome and it eased the movement of our flesh against each other. My balls pulled up and I realised it was about to be the fastest orgasm I'd had since my teens.

I kissed him again, wanting to drive my tongue into his mouth but finding it impossible to do that and breathe. Instead I brushed my lips over his and nibbled at his mouth, panting and moaning my pleasure as I did so.

"Fuck," he muttered against my mouth. "I'm going to—"

Warm fluid splashed my groin and coated my erection. A couple more strokes of his hand and I came with hard spurts, my body trembling. "Jesus, fuck."

Daniel slid his leg off me and fumbled with his clothing. I tucked myself away and made a half-hearted attempt at wiping myself with the bottom of my tee shirt. I should get out of bed and clean up properly, but my legs shook and I didn't want to break the moment. Instead, I pulled Daniel close to me again and wrapped my arm around his waist. He held onto me too, and gradually my breathing slowed. I wondered if I should say something but I couldn't think of a single word. Eventually, I slipped into sleep again.

When I woke I was alone. Sounds from the kitchen indicated Daniel was up making coffee or something. I scratched my stomach and grimaced as I found dried come there. Then the events of the night came rushing back and I rubbed my hands over my hot face. Shit. I didn't regret it but the fact that I'd liked it so much made me nervous. I got out of bed and crossed the room, trying to think of something to say to him. What if he kissed me the moment he saw me as if we were suddenly together? What if he regretted it?

I headed for the kitchen and Daniel rushed by me, his coat half on and his phone in his hand. "Hey, I have to go to my interview, I overslept, it's in an hour," he babbled.

"You want a ride?"

"No, it's no problem, I ordered a taxi, it'll be here any second." He finished pulling on his coat, put on shoes, and collected his keys from the hook on the hall. "Wish me luck, see you later." The door slammed behind him before I could respond with "Good luck," or anything else.

"Shit." I made myself some coffee, feeling a little sick. He regretted it and couldn't get out of the house fast enough. He would avoid me as long as possible. If we didn't live together I'd probably never see him again. Just like Torgny. Only it wasn't the same. Torgny had apparently been experimenting when he was drunk, or simply making use of the only hand available. Daniel was gay but just didn't want a repeat performance of a middle-of-the-night fumble with someone he saw as a friend and comforter—nothing more. It surprised me how crushed I felt. Monica was right. I did care about him. I had feelings for him that had crept up on me without me realising, or without me being willing to acknowledge them.

I gulped my coffee and poured another cup, which only made me feel sicker. My stomach was in knots and I dreaded seeing Daniel later. I showered and drove to the workshop, glad that I had a busy day with several bikes booked in for work.

Despite being busy, the day crawled by and I thought about him constantly. Every time my personal phone rang, I dropped what I was doing and grabbed it in case it was him but he didn't call. Several times I contemplated calling Monica, but what could I tell her? I kissed Daniel and he jerked us both off. Then he rushed out the house like a bat out of hell and I didn't know what to do. I'd sound like a fucking idiot. Besides, I didn't really want to discuss it with my ex-wife, even though she knew about what had happened with Torgny. She'd understand and probably give me the best advice I'd get anywhere while I quietly died of embarrassment.

Finally, the day ended. I bought groceries on the way home in an attempt to delay seeing him for another half hour. I hadn't eaten all day and I was starving, while at the same time I still felt sick and anxious and couldn't imagine eating anything. When I parked the truck outside my apartment and reluctantly let myself in, I was sweating and my blood rushed in my ears as my heart banged against my ribs.

"Hey." Daniel appeared out of the kitchen with a can of beer in his hand which he held out to me. He grinned. "We're celebrating."

Surprised, I took the can. "Are we?"

"I got the job!"

"That's fantastic." I relaxed and smiled. "They decided quickly."

"It was already in the bag. They saw my TV interview and they've read some of the articles I wrote. They overlooked the reason I got fired from Aftonposten because it's not something that would be relevant to their paper. But they don't want me as a columnist—I'm going to be a major contributor! They're interviewing someone else for the column tomorrow." He beamed from ear to ear. "My reputation goes before me, and not badly like I imagined. I start there next Monday."

"Congratulations." I switched hands with the can of beer, intending to shake his hand, but it seemed too impersonal. Even if last night hadn't happened, we were friends and housemates. I reached out to give him a one-armed hug instead. He returned it tightly for a couple of seconds, then quickly twisted away and strode back into the kitchen.

"I'm making chili!" he called back over his shoulder. "It's just a packet sauce."

"We could have gone out," I heard myself say. "Celebrate properly."

"It's fine. Maybe at the weekend or something."

"Okay." I hovered in the doorway for a minute. He was stirring something in a pan and ignored me, so eventually I went to take off my jacket and boots, and switched on the TV. Disappointment hit me again. Last night had been the heat of the moment and it was over. In a week, he'd be starting his job and moving to his apartment. I probably wouldn't see much of him after that. I felt as if I'd fulfilled my usefulness. Even the Truth Terrorist was behind bars, and Daniel simply didn't need me anymore.

We ate and drank a couple of beers, mostly in silence. Then Daniel told me about his interview and the paper he was going to work for. He'd spent part of the afternoon looking at new cars and had already put down a deposit on one. "Not an Escalade," he said. "I can't look at those anymore without freaking out. I'm getting a Nissan GTR."

"Nice."

Things seemed fairly normal. He avoided looking at me most of the time, but he talked the same as always. But what happened in the night appeared to be a one-off, to be forgotten as if it had never happened.

The news was full of the Truth Terrorist for days afterwards and we didn't watch it. One evening I went to Monica's house and spent time with the kids while she went on a date with Lasse. At the weekend, she took them to her parents' house overnight so I didn't see them, and the Sunday lunch with Daniel didn't happen. Instead, I worked extra and hung out with some of the Mobsters. When I got home, he'd gone to bed, presumably wanting an early night before his first day at work.

He was ready to go before eight in the morning and had a taxi collect him. He intended to pick up his new car at lunchtime and the day after, the keys for his apartment would be available. He would soon be gone and neither of us had mentioned the elephant in the room. Sometimes I caught him looking at me with longing in his eyes, but I wrote it off as my imagination. He didn't want me. He hadn't been able to get away fast enough after that night. I put it out of my mind as much as I could. Perhaps I should do what Monica had once said and get out more. She had found what seemed to be heading in the direction of love, and Daniel was moving on with his new life, while I stayed where I'd been for a long time—alone and lonely.