(part 3)
"Bugger…" Vince sighed as he allowed the shower's hot water to needle across his skin.
What the hell's wrong with me, he thought. What harm could it've done to let Stuart have his little fun? Maybe he really did mean what he'd said when they'd left Manchester. Maybe he really did plan to give over that shag.
But it was already hard enough to watch Stuart cop off with other blokes, he rationalised. It would be beyond devastating if he had to watch it after having had the shag to end all shags. It would be the death of him for certain.
Self-preservation was called for, he reasoned; and not just for himself, but for their friendship. Stuart couldn't be depended upon to use any sort of foresight when it came to reigning in his actions. In fact, he never did. Reign in his actions, that is. He simply didn't think about the consequences of anything he did – especially when it involved sex.
"It's up to me, really," Vince told himself, squaring his shoulders as he stepped out of the shower. "Been on the road too long and he's gone a bit mad is all," he told his steamed-up reflection in the bathroom mirror. "I can manage Stuart," he added, "We'll have a nice dinner, have a laugh, maybe dance a bit. Stuart'll cop off. I'll have a wank. We'll get some sleep. And tomorrow he'll realize what a twat he's been.
"Besides – it's not like he's completely irresistible." With his last comment, Vince could have sworn he'd seen his reflection arch a doubtful eyebrow.
"Yeah, right," he sighed. Chance'd be a fine thing.
Wrapping himself in the plush over-sized robe he had found hanging on the back of the bathroom door, Vince wandered out into the cozy room and plopped himself onto the middle of the overstuffed loveseat.
"Comfy," he said to himself, running his hand across the soft upholstery.
The shower had steamed away a substantial amount of Vince's tension and he found himself slipping into an extremely relaxed state. His lazy mood, however, was cut short by the shrill ring of the hotel phone perched atop a nightstand to the right of the huge bed.
"Hiya Stuart," Vince answered cheerfully.
"Vince. Quit arsein' about and get dressed. I'm downstairs in the bar." Stuart sounded like his shower and, no doubt, several cocktails had significantly softened his earlier disposition.
"Why d'you assume I'm not dressed yet?"
"I can always tell when you're naked Vince," Stuart giggled.
"Oh what? By the tone of my voice?" Vince scoffed. "And besides – I'm wearing the posh robe that was in the loo. Shows what you know," he laughed.
"Yeah. But under that, you're naked Vince."
Christ, thought Vince, feeling his face turn pink as though Stuart could somehow see through both the phone line and his robe. Jesus. He's not even in the room and he can make me blush like a wee schoolgirl!
"Vince."
"Yeah." Vince cleared his throat in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner.
"Meet me in the bar. It's to the right as you get off the lift. They've a restaurant here as well. And there's actually a club next door, can you imagine? If you're nice to me, maybe I'll take you dancing," Stuart teased.
"And Vince?"
"Yes, Stuart." Vince had affected his placating parental voice by this point.
"I can tell by the tone of your voice."
Left listening to a dial tone, Vince chuckled and shrugged off his robe to don what he hoped would pass for night-on-the-town clothes in this part of the country.
Vince scanned the sparsely populated hotel bar and spotted Stuart immediately. Perched gracefully on a barstool at the far end of the room, Stuart's Armani-clad frame easily stood out as the bar's most decorative feature. How does he always manage to look so classy and sophisticated? wondered Vince. Especially when he's usually up to something completely common and crass. "Twat," Vince chuckled to himself.
The picture of cool, Stuart hoped his practiced shell of perfection and bored loveliness didn't betray the skip his heart felt the second he'd clocked Vince entering the bar. Christ, he thought. When did Vince turn into the gorgeous bloke he saw walking towards him?
Vince's infectious grin took its toll immediately, eliciting a dazzling, if not salacious, smile from Stuart.
"Hiya!" Vince took the barstool next to his friend.
Stuart cocked his head slightly, looking up at Vince through lashes that were the envy of women and makeup artists everywhere.
"Brilliant room, yeah? Could've stayed in that shower for hours," Vince babbled, nervously, noticing that Stuart had yet to say anything. In fact, if he hadn't spent years convincing himself of the impossibility, he'd have sworn Stuart was staring – checking him out, in fact.
"Stuart? You all right? Can't be pissed already – y'haven't been down here long enough." Vince giggled uneasily.
"You look fantastic, Vince."
"Should do Stuart, you spent enough on this kit."
Not entirely by accident, Vince had chosen an outfit that had garnered the same compliment the last time he'd worn it. Stuart definitely had impeccable taste in clothes. And he knew what suited. Vince's complexion glowed next to the chocolate brown leather jacket he wore. Matching brown trousers – of the softest fabric Vince had ever touched – and a cobalt dress shirt, that made his eyes sparkle an impossible shade of blue, completed the look.
"Yeah well… couldn't have you dressed too shabby now, could I? How would I look – as perfectly lovely as I am – in the company of someone dressed like a pauper?"
Despite the insult, Stuart's usual scathing tone seemed absent. He was still smiling, noticed Vince. Best enjoy this and get him fed before he gets another monk on.
"What're ya havin' Vince?"
"Thought you were starvin' Stuart. Best get you fed. Don't want you gettin' cranky before you've had a chance to check out the local blokes," Vince teased.
"I am starving. But I need another drink. I've only seen one relatively decent looking bloke since we arrived…and he thinks he's straight. Might be fun to show the lad the error of his ways, mind," Stuart snickered.
"Not like it'd be the first time you'd be responsible for corrupting some unsuspecting bloke," Vince added, a mental picture of little boy Nathan instantly flashing before him.
"Be doing him a favour, really." Stuart flashed a grin capable of melting the polar icecaps. "Dunno if I'm feeling that generous, though. And I'd sooner have a wank than cop off with some over-sized minger dressed in head-to-toe flannels."
"Blimey! Someone best call 999 – or is it 911 here? No, that's in America. Wonder what it is in Canada? Whatever it is, we'd best ring immediately. Stuart Alan Jones has finally found someplace he couldn't cop off!" Vince couldn't stop laughing. Stuart, on the other hand, calmly aimed a 1000-watt smile at his jovial friend.
"Never said I couldn't Vince… said I might not want to. There is a difference you know."
"And since when do you not want to cop off, Stuart? Since you were 14, there hasn't been a bloke say no to you."
"That's because I'm lovely, Vince. I've told you that before. And it's not true anyway."
"What – you're no longer lovely?"
"Don't be daft, Vince. Of course I'm still lovely," Stuart batted his eyelashes.
"So you're telling me that you – Stuart Alan Jones, Manchester's champion shagger – have actually had a lad tell you no? C'mon Stuart. We've been friends for 16 years. I've seen you at the clubs. I've never seen anyone turn you down," Vince continued to rib his friend.
"'Course you haven't ya twat." …that's 'cause you're the one always turning me down…
After knocking back several rounds of pre-dinner cocktails, Stuart and Vince decided that dinner was an immediate necessity and the two headed off toward the hotel dining room – which was, conveniently, situated just on the opposite side of the main lobby.
"Shit Vince, lookit that!" Stuart exclaimed.
"I've seen the lad Stuart. And, yes, he's nice. And, yes, I think he's straight. And, yes, I'm sure you'llave no problem 'avin' 'im." Vince's Mancunian accent had thickened significantly as a result of the several pints he'd hoisted with his mate.
"Not the bloke behind the desk, Vince – the one waiting for the lift. Looks like one of those Mountie's you've been goin' on about. Not bad either!"
Stuart grabbed Vince by the hand and marched purposefully across the lobby toward the man in question.
"Hiya – Stuart Jones. This here's Vince… Vince – say hi," Stuart nudged his friend toward the tall, stoic-looking man.
"Hiya," Vince managed, trying desperately to maintain his balance.
"Benton Fraser, RCMP," replied the Mountie, politely shaking both their hands.
Stuart stood back, letting his gaze wander from Vince to the gorgeous stranger. Obviously his none-too-subtle advances toward Vince were getting him nowhere. So, perhaps, the introduction of this lovely stranger – combined with Vince's current state of intoxication – would be enough to orchestrate a wickedly, lovely evening of group fun.
"What d'you think, Vince?" Stuart leaned in against his friend, letting his breath tease the teetering man's ear.
"Already said, Stuart," Vince felt his equilibrium about to falter and grabbed at Stuart's waist to avoid falling into the confused Mountie.
"Vince and I were just headed in to have a bite," Stuart leered, "D'you fancy joinin' us, then?"
"Well, I was actually about to join my friend Ray," he nodded toward the reservations desk, "but I'm sure he would love the chance to make both your acquaintances. Thank you, kindly."
"Brilliant," Stuart responded, "Vince and I'll go on ahead and grab a table. You go on and grab… Ray," he purposefully added a lecherous tone to the absent man's name.
"C'mon Vince, me lad… looks like this evening could get interesting." Stuart flashed a devilish grin as he ushered his friend toward the restaurant.
Seated at a cozy corner booth, Stuart and Vince watched as their dinner companions walked through the restaurant door and headed toward the table.
"Oi, Vince! Look at that — "
"They look like James Dean and a porn version of Sergeant Preston," Vince giggled. Another bottle of wine had kept the two company while they awaited their guests and sobriety was now a very distant memory.
"Maybe later we can arrange our own private viewing, yeah?" Stuart whispered conspiratorially as he leaned into Vince, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with his alcohol consumption.
"Always fancied James Dean," Stuart continued to lean against his suddenly silent friend, letting his palm rest against a tightly tensed thigh, "bet those long legs'd look fantastic thrown over my shoulders, yeah?"
Two gorgeous blokes, Vince thought miserably. Two of them. He'd watched this particular show before and was already all too familiar with its ending. Stuart scores a brilliant threesome, whilst poor, pathetic Vince watches in admiration. Well, not this time, he thought. He knew how the rest of the evening would be played out and knew that he was only a peripheral character… Stuart's constant devoted audience of one. Sod that!
"I'm off," Vince stood suddenly, shrugging off Stuart's roaming hand.
"Vince, what're you on about?"
"No need for me here!" Vince spat, " I'll just leave now, shall I? Avoid the awkward need for signals and hand gestures and the sort later on."
And, with that, Vince sped out of the restaurant leaving behind a flustered Stuart – not to mention two terribly confused Canadians.
I must be mad, thought Vince. Really bollocking mad. Should have bloody-well listened to Stuart when he'd said, No passengers, Vince.
A sick feeling threatened to overwhelm Vince's senses as he fumbled for the room key. Convincing himself to take a deep breath, he managed – albeit, with shaking hands – to let himself into the darkened, empty room. Let the bastard take his shags elsewhere, he thought as he pulled the door behind him, locking it soundly.
Stumbling toward the sofa, Vince realized that his legs weren't the most stable means of transportation and he momentarily contemplated dropping to all fours and crawling the short distance. But the more he thought about Stuart with the two men they'd met earlier, the angrier he became. And that anger somehow managed to temporarily clear the drink-induced fog that was impairing his faculties. Of course, the clarity only lasted long enough for Vince to make it to his intended target. And, as the fog rolled back in, he dropped to the couch and let his thoughts swim unfettered.
Imagining the worst possible scenario, Vince pictured Stuart arriving back at the room – his shags in tow – and demanding Vince let them in. Sod that, thought Vince. I'm here and I'm spending the night here. They can bloody well take their arses elsewhere!
Desperately trying to focus long enough to find the television remote he knew had to be somewhere within reach, Vince scrambled about until he found the small device. He clicked the set to life and mindlessly switched from one channel to the next. Nothing but infomercials and bad music videos and… wait – what's this? Porn? Blimey, even in this small town, he marveled. "Shit," he muttered to himself, "straight porn." And the bloke just happens to look like Stuart, he realized miserably.
Aiming at the set, Vince flicked the offending images away and dejectedly let the remote drop to the floor. But the pornographic visual – despite its being of the hetero variety – of the man resembling his long-unrealized lust, was enough to set his mind wandering down a very familiar path. Images of Stuart, naked and golden, permeated his brain. His heart and his hormones took over, as they usually did when he was alone, allowing his anger to be overwritten by desire. Letting his head fall back into the plush upholstery, Vince's fingertips slowly grazed highly-sensitized nipples. And, as a phantom Stuart wove his erotic spell, Vince allowed his hand to drop toward his overheated groin. His hips slowly thrust into the heel of his palm and he allowed a breathless sigh to escape his lips.
"— Vince! What the fuck was all that about??" Stuart slammed into the room, interrupting Vince's moment of solitude.
Shit… he's got another key, realized Vince, grateful that he'd not gotten further in his slow self-seduction.
"Christsakes, Vince!"
Vince could hear Stuart's enraged attempts at manoeuvering the room in the dark and took the opportunity to reassemble his wits.
"Piss off Stuart," he mumbled.
"Oi! What's your problem, then? I go out of my way to arrange a perfectly wonderful shag and you swan off before the deal's even put on the table!"
"So why've you bothered chasin' after me, then. You've left a perfectly wonderful shag to come up here and have a go at me?" Vince didn't try to hide the exasperation in his voice.
"Well, ehm… it's a little hard to arrange a foursome when the fourth person fucks off like a bitchy little girl."
"So this one was gonna involve me was it, Stuart?" Something in Vince snapped, spilling 16 years of dejection, rejection and pain into an unexpected barrage.
"Decided that it was that time again to try adding poor, pathetic Vince to your roster, then? Only, how come anytime you decide its time to add me to your list of conquests, there needs to be a supporting cast? What exactly is it about Vince Tyler that makes him so unshaggable, Stuart?"
"Vince, calm down… I just said I wanted you to play along didn't I?" Stuart's voice faltered slightly and his volume dropped significantly.
"Oh fuck off Stuart! You've had 'em all, haven't ya? Only you haven't had me! So what is so bloody horrible about me that I'm the only bloke who's not joined the I've-shagged-Stuart-Alan-Jones club? Didn't half wanna shag you Stuart… long time ago…" Vince realized that Stuart had stopped trying to interrupt him and was now staring at him with an expression he couldn't quite clock.
"I've watched you cop off with every bloke in Manchester. So why is it that the only way you can even imagine me bein' one of them is as part of a team effort? Why the fuck am I the one needs to watch you take home every pretty boy you're cock sends you after? That's the reason I'm here, isn't it, Stuart? Ready-made audience. What the FUCK is wrong with me, Stuart!
Vince's anger had long-since dissipated his alcohol-induced fog and it was well on its way to depleting all of his remaining energy. His shoulders slumped as he quietly continued, "Sixteen years, Stuart… sixteen years…" Vince raked a trembling hand through the dark golden spikes of his hair.
Stuart stepped forward, slowly attempting an approach toward his irate friend. He reached out and placed a tentative hand on Vince's shoulder. Vince looked up and met his friend's eyes. "Am I really that bloody disgusting to you, Stuart?"
"Is that what you think, Vince? Really?" Stuart managed, through clenched teeth. "You honestly believe that, after all this time, I'd still be around? Jesus Christ, Vince!" Stuart grabbed Vince's wrist, forcing the palm of his hand into his own already-straining crotch. "Does that feel like disgust, Vince?"
Blinking, in what felt like slow motion, Vince stood spellbound. Unable to move, look away, or even breath, he was certain time had suddenly stopped. He saw the unmistakable lust in Stuart's eyes… and, more importantly, felt it beneath his trembling hand. Frozen in fear, he simply stared.
Unable to maintain even the slightest modicum of composure, Stuart breached the minute space between them as he gripped Vince's waist with his free hand and crushed their lips together in a dizzying kiss. Unsure of his next move, Stuart's mind was quickly made up when the moan that escaped Vince became audible.
With a sound that was nothing short of sensuality personified, Vince continued to unknowingly seduce Stuart with the sexy whimpers and kitten-like mewls that escaped his throat.
Stuart pressed even closer, pushing Vince up against the back of the chesterfield, and began to rhythmically rock his hips against an answering hardness.
The coursing heat that had permeated every pore on his body – every fibre of his being –incinerated the iota of reason to which Vince so desperately tried to cling. He buried his hands in Stuart's glossy curls and returned his friend's kiss with greedy abandon.
"So bloody perfect," managed Stuart as Vince lowered his mouth to taste the delicate flesh of his throat. A shiver crept through Stuart and a primal moan erupted from deep within his chest as Vince trailed a searing path of kisses and licks toward the top button of his silk shirt. Clever fingers deftly untucked and unbuttoned while Stuart realised he was being a far too passive participant in this erotic dance.
Reaching out to card his fingers back through Stuart's hair, Vince was stopped as determined hands gripped his wrists and stilled his movements. Bright blue eyes searched his face while an almost-shy grin smiled back at him.
"A ghrá mo chroi agus anam," whispered Stuart as he claimed Vince's lips in a kiss that Vince feared would surely stop his heart. He had no clue what Stuart had just said to him, but he was certain that it was the most beautiful and erotic-sounding thing he'd ever heard or would ever hear again.
Making quick work of Vince's shirt, Stuart used one hand to unbuckle the belt at Vince's waist while the other unzipped his pants and pushed them past his hips, letting them pool around his ankles. Vince broke their kiss long enough to step out of the offending garment and treated Stuart to similar handiwork.
Stuart shrugged out of his open shirt and lunged at Vince, toppling them both back onto the huge, inviting bed.
"Gawd, Vince!" Stuart gasped as he straddled his best friend's hips, "look at you." He began to rock his hips, groaning at the contact he created as their cocks rubbed together.
Vince was lost in sensation and could only moan and lift his hips as Stuart removed his boxers. He watched, through hooded lids, as Stuart got rid of his own shorts and began nibbling and licking at Vince's thighs.
Continuing his tortuous ministrations, Stuart grazed his teeth along the sensitive flesh of Vince's inner thighs and, as Vince wantonly allowed his legs to spread further apart, he sank in his teeth and moaned aloud.
"Stuart… gawd, Stuart," moaned Vince as Stuart sucked greedily – no doubt marking Vince's tender, pale skin. With that carnal realisation, Vince moaned even louder as his hips began to thrust of their own accord.
Stuart stilled Vince's movements and gently lifted his knees. He lowered his face and nuzzled at Vince's groin, allowing his friend's heady scent to wash over him; he felt Vince tremble as he took his first tentative taste. Stuart allowed his tongue to slowly map the entire length of Vince's engorged cock and took the head into his mouth to gently suck away the glistening drops of precum that had begun to form.
Feeling his world shrink to exclude everything but his cock and the sensations being created around it by Stuart's talented mouth, Vince shivered and moaned as he writhed uncontrollably. "OhmygodStuart," he rasped in one sucking breath.
"Feels good, yeah?" Stuart's breath caressed Vince's overheated balls. "This'll feel even better," he promised as his tongue bathed Vince's tightened sac and darted further back to slowly taste the entrance to his lover's trembling body.
Stuart's tongue worked a teasing pattern of licking and thrusting, driving Vince into a gasping frenzy.
"Stuart," he panted, "I can't… I'm… oh gawd! Stuart — now! It has to be now!"
Feeling Vince's nearly incoherent frustration, Stuart reached for the bottle of lube he'd stashed earlier in the nightstand drawer and slicked up Vince's already-relaxed hole. Using his last ounce of restraint he managed to roll a condom onto his straining erection and give himself a few careful strokes with the scented oil.
As he lifted Vince's legs to his shoulders, Stuart gazed down at his friend's lust-filled, golden face. Pure, unadulterated bliss stared back at him. And something more. Something stronger. Something forever. All the love in Vince's soul stared back at him and Stuart felt his heart lurch at the onslaught of emotion he felt.
With one slow, purposeful thrust, Stuart breached Vince and entered him completely for the very first time. Placing his palm against Vince's flushed cheek, Stuart stilled his hips and waited for Vince's eyes to flutter open.
Vince gazed up at Stuart and saw a look he couldn't quite comprehend. Afraid to speak, he simply placed his own hand over Stuart's and smiled, ever so hesitantly.
"A ghrá mo chroi agus anam, Vince. A ghrá mo chroi agus anam," Stuart whispered as he lowered his mouth once again.
Lips and tongues tasted while hands explored tingling, sweat-drenched skin. Stuart thrust into Vince again and again as their moans filled the room.
No longer capable of coherent speech, Vince moaned from deep within his throat and chanted Stuart's name like a mantra.
As his own body came closer to its pinnacle, Stuart felt Vince stiffen beneath him as he screamed out his orgasm.
Feeling Vince's body tighten around him was all Stuart needed to join him in his rapture.
"Ah Vince— fuuuuuuuuuuuck…"
Stuart slumped forward onto Vince, allowing their bodies to remain joined. But as their pulses and breathing finally started to slow, Stuart moved to pull his softened cock from Vince's tender arsehole.
"Stay. Please," Vince managed, running his hands up and down Stuart's body, finally settling one hand upon his ass and the other in the small of his back.
"No one's ever made me cum like that, Stuart. Without even touching my cock," Vince admitted, a slight blush tingeing his face.
"Really?" Stuart smiled down at him, finally needing to shift his weight and separate their bodies.
Leaving one thigh lazily draped across Vince's legs, Stuart cuddled in close and buried his face in Vince's neck. "You're fantastic, Vince," Stuart whispered as he snuggled closer still and slipped under Morpheus' spell.
Vince tangled his fingers through Stuart's disheveled curls and ignored the inner voice that was telling him now would be the perfect time to panic. "Love you, Stuart," he whispered after he realized his beautiful Irish imp was out cold. And placing a gentle kiss on Stuart's forehead, Vince joined him in sleep.
...TBC
