"I'm telling you," he says, face alight, if weary, "that was … fucking ... crazy-intense. How come I didn't know fucking was so ball-shatteringly good ?"

I burst out laughing.

"'Ball shattering' – ouch ! Sounds painful."

"How come ? I'm serious. Why did you never tell me ?"

I grin.

"Well … come on, Tone. It's maybe not something you can describe, really, is it ? You sorta gotta experience it yourself."

He looks off in a semi-daze.

"Ya, I guess."

"Gotta admit, it sorta feels funny, the idea of me describing sex to you. You're twice, if not three times as experienced as me, y'know, in real life terms."

"Real life abandoned me a while back, if you recall. It's alternate universe time for Tony; the universe where he's madly in love with a boy and happy as a fucking clam about it, thank you."

Oh, but my heart does soar a few thousand feet into the air ...

He leans down for a soft peck.

"In this universe, New Tony's got exactly one banging under his belt - uno, unum, eins, singular, fucking one."

I squint.

"Okay, did you just speak in like four languages there ?"

He grins.

"Baby," he says, and yes, for the record, it does still make me tingle, "I need as many modes of expression possible to try and get my head around this."

I reach for his hand.

"I know that big brain of yours thrives on complex equations and shit, but in this case, don't. It's like trying to explain, y'know, the secrets of the universe, or something; why flowers grows or the sun shines."

"Well shit, that's easy; the sun is essentially an enormous, superheated plasma-ball-"

"Tony-"

He laughs and pulls me to him. He kisses my forehead.

"I'm teasin'."

I turn my head sideways against his chest. He smells unmistakeably post-sexual: musky, sweaty, utterly delectable.

"It really is the best thing that ever was, though, ya ?" he asks, his voice far off.

I chuckle, nod, and let out a big, satisfied sigh.

"Total magic. 'Specially when you're in love."

"Mm."

We hold each other a moment.

"What's it like when you're not ?"

I raise a hand to caress his chest.

"Well … not terrible, I admit. Or, well … really it depends on who you're with. All I know is, it's not a patch on how it felt just now, with you. Not even close. How could it be ?" Big sigh. "I don't think I'll ever believe it, Tone. You and me, together. I mean, in my whole life -"

-I then hear a noise … something rhythmic and rumbly … what the … ?

I pull away … and fuck if Tony isn't snoring.

Bastard. I watch. Is he teasing me again ?

The deep rumble continues – no. Fuck. Somehow he's actually managed to drift off, right in the middle of my little speech, whilst standing up.

I want to be annoyed, but how can I ? Poor baby's peaked-out, utterly wasted … from too much sex.

How many things in this world are both hot, and at the same time, also rather adorably sweet ?

I brush a stray strand of hair from his eyes and watch, enjoying for a moment, the undetected ogling of his face. He really is uncommonly beautiful, this I already knew, and yet, once again, in his flushed, spent, post-orgasm state, somehow crazily moreso. A tall, pale, damp, unbearably sexy ragamuffin with a shock of messy black hair, and even with the shades pulled on them, intensely piercing eyes.

A sound resembling a broken flugelhorn reverberates through his chest, causing his lips to flutter slightly. Jesus christ, he really is quite prepared to sleep the day away, standing upright here in the loo.

I take his hand. I whisper softly.

"Come on." I pull him slowly, being careful to clutch his shoulder lest he fall, and to my surprise he follows, shuffling along like an old man for several steps. At the doorway, his eyes drift open.

"Everybody should fuck," he slurs, muttering under his breath, still half asleep.

I stifle a laugh.

"Yes I'm sure," I whisper, pulling him more. "Right now you need a nap."

He takes a few more steps and then stops dead.

"Huh … what ?" He shakes his head. "No I don't."

He's stock still and rooted to the floor, now, resisting the gentle and not so gentle tuggings on his hand, and it strikes me that this must have been what Tony's mum went through every night he was a toddler.

"Shh," I say gently, pulling on him. "Quiet. Off to bed with you. Just for a bit."

"No fucking way," he says, now wide awake. "Not unless you come with me."

"Tone, don't be a shit. You're so exhausted, you just fell asleep standing up, for fuck's sake."

This stops him. He looks off, pondering.

"Really ? Cool."

"Well, it won't be cool if I have to drag your arse all over Brighton." I yank hard and pull him two more feet. "You need a nap and that's all there is to it."

"Don't want a bloody nap. Wanna fuck."

"Tony, don't be ridiculous ! You've come, like, eight times in the past twelve hours."

He shoots me a grin.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Wanker." I push against him and he takes a few backward steps and plops down to sit on the edge of the bed. "We've had more sex in the past day than any two people should, you know."

He takes my hand.

"Yes, it's terribly shameful," he says as his eyes twinkle and glow, "All the same, you can't seriously expect me to have my first taste of fucking ..." he leans forward slightly, "ever. First taste of the inside of your magnificent, award winning bubble-butt ..."

"Award winning ?" I shriek.

He ignores me, raises a finger to slowly circle my navel, and then slides it into my pubes to tug gently, softly on the hairs, "... and not want more. Like, lots."

My bottom quivers. It was utterly fantastic … however … oh fuck, the little tuggings really are rather hypnotic. I gulp. I try to force a frown, but it refuses to make an appearance.

"Tone-"

"Come on, baby, you know it'll only take a few minutes." His eyes peak coyly from beneath heavy lids, all while he continues the maddeningly gentle rhythmic tug. "How could I last longer than that plowing deep inside a goldmine like yours ? Hm ?" He tilts his face and somehow manages a simultaneously pouty/innocent look, the final move in the seduction game, and as lips move closer to mine, hits me with this: "Let your man mine for gold."

Oh, FUCK. Despite the bewitching quality of this phrase, I manage to shore up my last semblance of strength, clamp a hand over his mouth and push him back.

"Tony."

"What ?" he asks in normal, annoyed tones.

"My arse is sore."

"Huh ?" He squints. "Your arse is sore ?"

"Yes, frankly."

Tony doesn't know about these things. How could he ? That when one is on the receiving end of a fierce, genuine pummeling, at the hands of a not-quite-virgin determined to make up for lost time, determined to cram into The Act an entire year's pent up longing, frustration and need … it is indeed, of course, glorious ... while at the same time tending to seriously limit one's ability to withstand or even entertain round two. At least for a while.

"You mean, like-"

"-Yes."

"Oh."

Brief pause.

"Didn't realize."

Then:

"How sore are we talking ?"

"Tony, it aches, okay ? Also, my hips, my back, everything. You were kind of on fire; a bit out of control. Like I said, monstrous. Not that any of that's bad, but … I just need a bit of respite from fucking, at the moment, that's all."

He has on his face, what I'd term, a little grin. Naughty and pleased with itself.

"Sorry," he offers, through the grin.

"You don't look it."

He laughs.

"No, seriously, Max. I'm not happy you're feeling discomfort; of course I'm not. I'm no sadist." The little grin returns. "It's just that … y'know."

"What ?"

"It's kind of cool, and kind of hot, too, that ..."

"What ? ?" I snap.

"That I banged you til it hurt."

"It doesn't hurt, Tone, it's just a bit …"

"Ya, I know. You know what I mean, though."

I smile slowly. I lean in to kiss him.

"Ya. It's the whole notion of like, being marked or branded or whatever, right ?" I grin. "Branded by your man."

We both ponder this a moment, and laugh.

"Never thought I'd see the day when you'd call yourself that, must say."

"Me either," he smiles. "Kinda like it, though."

"Oh, shit, me too."

We laugh again.

He grasps my hand.

"Sorry, though, 'bout your bum. Really."

"S'okay." I shrug. "That was sort of like the hardest pounding it's had in a while."

"Which is saying a lot."

"Fuck off !" I shout.

"Maxxie, I'm kidding !"

He pulls me down to his face for a brief, soft smooch, while I continue to scold him.

"What I said was a complement, y'know. I hardly think it should be met with a crack."

Suddenly, fueled, no doubt by a combination bone-weary exhaustion and persistent, lingering horniness, he's struck with a case of the giggles.

"What ?" I finally ask, as he grabs his belly.

"Crack," he snorts uncontrollably. "Similar to bumcrack in that both are notoriously addictive."

I grin. "Perv." I lay a hand on his shoulder and speak earnestly. "Okay, time for bed, my angel. Seriously. You need rest and I need a quick shower, so … Plus my hair's a dreadful mess-"

"-Fuck, that'll take all day."

"Fuck off; no it won't ! I've got it down to a science – 32 minutes ! And then we'll be fresh and ready for the day."

"Okay," he says too quickly, laying himself flat out on the bed in front of me without bothering to pull up the sheets. "I know you're probably right; you usually are, so I'll just, y'know ..." He takes a big, expansive breath, shuts his eyes, and says all nonchalant, "'Nighty night. Come for me when you're ready."

Come for him when I'm ready ? Clever bastard, I think, eying that luscious, naked form on display not two feet from me, as if I'm not ready for him right this second. Fucker. No. If I'm to be Tony's boyfriend, the one thing I'll bloody well need is backbone. Besides, I am determined to get my money's worth from this weekend, goddamit, all three hundred and fifty pounds of it.

"Okay," I say, flatly, and turn to walk away.

I make it two inches when I'm snapped back via Tony's hand hooking my elbow so that I've rather quickly, and undelicately, landed on top of him.

"Tony ! Fuck !"

On his face sits a triumphant smirk.

"My sentiments exactly !"

.

"Christ," he moans. "Just pull my arm outta the socket, why dontcha ?"

"Sorry," I tell him again, incapable of keeping the edges of my mouth from betraying me.

"No you're not," he frowns. "Slippery bastard," he mutters as I pull him down for a kiss.

He pulls back and sits up in a crouch in my lap, just as I'd started to engage in a little mutual cock slithering.

"Don't, Tone. Seriously gotta do my hair."

"But, why ? Think you don't look fuckable enough as it is ?"

"It's not about fuckable, tosser. It's about this nightmare of my straightener beginning to fail – I'm a full month out – and the labradoodle's starting to pop up on my head."

I laugh out loud. Christ, he's a hoot.

"But labradoodles are so adorable ! All those curls !"

He runs a hand up into the tangled mess.

"You don't have to deal with them; the tangles, the little nests; christ. I look like a Rastafarian in a wind tunnel. Or like my grandmother, Tone – an old woman in a bad, curly blonde wig."

We laugh. I pull him down again for another kiss – slow and serious, this time, complete with his favorite nibble-bites ... and carefully lower a hand to his cock.

Almost immediately he lets out a breathy moan, partly from exasperation.

"Fuck's sake."

"It'll only take a minute, Max." I whisper to him. "Fraction of the time you spend on your hair."

"But, Tone-"

"Shhh. Let me jack you, at least."

He goes to speak but I cover his mouth with mine and grasp him tighter.

As his hips begin moving in a helpless rhythm, he pulls his face away and glares at me.

"Bastard," he pants. "Why can't I say no to you ? Why ?"

I grin.

"I think you already have said no to me."

He squints and speaks weakly.

"What … what was it about again ?"

"Buttfucking."

He ponders this a moment, then nods solemnly.

"Right."

"Changed your mind ?"

"No," he says, snapping his hips forward and slurring like a drunk. "Fuck off."

The half moment before Maxxie comes - which of course, lasts more than a half moment, because it's magic, akin to the sun burning hot and the flowers opening up to it - his face, just inches from mine, is at war with itself – you can read everything you wanna know about him, about this moment, in this face, I swear. In it, you'll see that he genuinely doesn't want to come, because that would mean, in his mind, that I "won" and that he "caved", and that this maybe sets a bad precedent for us, or is just generally annoying, even if he doesn't right now know that it's the last thing on my mind, keeping score, because I'm transfixed, all of a sudden, completely preoccupied with the knowledge this half moment has given me ... with the movement of his slow surging hips, like the ocean on a cool evening, with this face, this scarcely concealed mask of frustration, confusion, euphoria, pissiness, self conscious embarrassment, defiance, vulnerability and flat out lovely, humming, aching, melodic acquiescence, particularly as it creases, particularly as it calls out and the white finally shoots from his body … All of which brings me to the certain exquisite knowledge that, had I not already been in love with him, the bloody deal would have been sealed, no question, right here.

And so I won't gloat; wouldn't dream of it. Because while this started out as old-Tony's little horny/ornery sensual challenge, here on the other side of his "victory", it's me, and Maxxie, the two of us, who have won.

Author's note:

Sincerest apologies for the terribly long delay between chapters, and genuine heartfelt thanks for hanging out with, and not ditching the story. Being away from the story for well over a month is the surest, quickest route to writer's block, which, when it occurs, fucks with you pretty bad. You struggle, you writhe about, you can't 'hear' the characters for the life of you, or get inside their heads, you have only sporadic, fragmented visualizations of the scenes you want to write, which for me is absolutely critical to the whole thing ... and so you stay away from it ... which of course, only adds to the problem ... however the above little ditty I managed on a single, unseasonably warm Sunday, and while it's nothing brilliant, I still sort of like it. Much as I've made Tony a bit anti-Tony in recent chapters, I do in a way love him being his old, obnoxious self, especially when you get to mix him with this new guy who is prone to love-struck, romantic epiphanies.