As Ollie negotiated his way through the maze of hospital car parks, I pondered the snippets of information I’d been picking up about his life. “So how old’s your brother?” I asked.
“He’s five now. Tyler, he’s called. Little menace but cute as hell.”
“And you share the same mother?” It was a guess. Ollie hadn’t mentioned his parents much, but I had the impression they were both still alive. Maybe he was just trying not to flaunt that fact in deference to my parentless state.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Big age gap there.”
“Don’t,” Ollie warned, but with a wry grin on his face.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t you go stressing about age gaps again. We’re fine.”
“So long as you don’t start calling me Daddy,” I grumbled.
Ollie snorted. “Believe me, one dad and one stepfather is plenty for me. I’m not after another.” He paused for a while at a busy junction, and I thought 82
perhaps we were through with the subject, but then he picked it up again once we were moving.
“My dad’s out in Saudi Arabia at the moment. Works for BP and spends half his time in oil-producing countries. That’s what drove Mum crazy in the end.
They got divorced when I was fifteen, and by the time I was sixteen, she’d already married Terrence and was pregnant with Tyler.”
“Fast work.”
“Yeah. Turned out she’d been seeing him for years when Dad was away, but they didn’t make anything official until Terrence divorced his wife.”
Ollie’s tone was conversational, but I could see the tension in his jaw muscles.
“Do you get on with Terrence?”
His shrug said it all. “We got on okay to begin with, but he couldn’t deal with me coming out. Didn’t want his baby growing up in the same house as a batty boy.”
“He told you that?” My hands balled into fists as I imagined giving a piece of my mind to this Terrence guy.
“Nah, not in so many words, but it was pretty obvious, if you know what I mean. His mates were worse. They think I can’t understand it when they talk in patois, but I picked up a fair bit.”
“So you moved out as soon as you could? In with your friend Omar?”
“Didn’t want to be where I wasn’t wanted.”
It wasn’t exactly answering the question, and I had the feeling Ollie was holding something back, but I didn’t pry. He’d tell me in his own time. Instead, I reached over and squeezed his thigh gently. Ollie took his eyes off the Oxford traffic for a brief moment and smiled at me. Somehow I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of those smiles. They ran the gamut from exuberant to subtle, and this one was tinged with a kind of sad gratitude.
I was quiet the rest of the way home, saving my strength so that I could make Ollie feel welcome and wanted when we got back home.
84
Zoe was waiting for us back at the flat. God, it was good to be home. I sank back onto my living room sofa and propped my feet up on the coffee table. Ah, bliss!
“Okay, your fridge and freezer are stocked with meals that fit the new diet sheet.” Zoe brandished a list, and once again I thanked my lucky stars that I had a chef for a sister. “You’ve got to remember to write down everything you eat and drink for the next few weeks, though, like that nutritionist said.”
“Yep, I was listening too, thanks.” It turned out that, for the moment at least, my diet was even more restricted than it had been before the operation. All that should change over the next month, though. I had the prospect of fresh coffee with sugar in to look forward to. Hell, I’d even be able have a coffee with whiskey in it. My mouth watered at the thought.
The front door slammed shut, and footsteps bounced up the hall.
“All done,” Ollie announced and threw himself down next to me. “God, I’m knackered. I bet I stink.” He’d been shifting all the boxes of unused dialysate out into the garage, ready for collection. It was good to see the back of the bloody things.
“Come here, you.” I pulled Ollie over to me and kissed him lavishly. He didn’t stink, but he was ripe with the scent of fresh sweat and young male. It was one of the best smells in the world, and it was a bugger that I still couldn’t seem to get it up, although maybe that was for the best. I wouldn’t want to rip my stitches doing anything too strenuous, and I’d had those stern instructions not to have any sex for the next four weeks.
“Can’t wait to get you alone,” he whispered in my ear.
Anxiety rippled through me. I hadn’t yet told him what the doctor had advised as far as “sexual relations” went. Ollie had been supplying me with a steady stream of hand-drawn porn, and I could tell that he was expecting something from me now we had a bit of privacy. Thank God Zoe was still in the room.
“I’ll see myself out then, shall I?” Zoe said. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything else I can do for you. Ollie seems to have it all under control.” I definitely wasn’t imagining the dryness of her tone.
I leant sideways—I could do that now the scars were starting to heal—and pleaded with my eyes.
“Why not stay for a cuppa?”
Ollie pouted at me but hid it from Zoe. Then that brilliant smile was back as he turned and offered to put the kettle on.
“No, really. I’m due at work any minute now, and I’m sure you two boys would rather be alone. I’ll see you tomorrow, Benji.” She bent down to kiss the top of my head. “You too, Ollie. Look after him for me.”
Ollie grinned, grabbed hold of Zoe, and planted a sloppy kiss right on her lips. I swear she blushed. Zoe never blushes.
She trotted out of the room, and moments later, I heard the front door slam.
And then we were alone.
“So, how about that cup of tea, then?” I made a move to get up, but it still took me a while to rise, and Ollie put out a hand to stop me. It didn’t take much to overpower me, but I was determined to get my strength back. It might take the best part of a year, but I was going to work out and get so as I could fit back into 86
all my old clothing. I was going to get me a body I could be proud of again. One that would drive Ollie wild with desire, and hopefully by then I’d be in a fit state to do something about it.
“How about we find some other form of refreshments?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “You’re looking pretty tasty to me right now.” He licked my earlobe and swung his leg over me so that he was sitting astride my lap.
I groaned. It was hard to believe he could find me attractive like this, but the way he nuzzled into my neck seemed to confirm that he did. No, scratch that.
The way his erection was digging into my stomach definitely confirmed it. I hissed as he shifted and his dick nudged me right in the sensitive area around my scar.
“Shit! I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“Just a bit. I’ll be okay.” I put my hand to my belly in a protective gesture.
Ollie gave me a strange look. “So, now we’re alone and all…” He looked uncertain and so young that I started worrying about cradle-snatching again.
Maybe all that talk about his ex had been bullshit. God, I hoped not. I didn’t think I could handle the responsibility of being his first—not in my condition— although on the other hand, at least he wouldn’t have anyone to compare me unfavourably to.
“I’m not expecting anything,” I said, trying to sound generous rather than dismissive. “Not sure if I can manage anything anyway. Not after the surgery and all these drugs they’ve got me on.”
Ollie shook his head vehemently. “That’s not what I meant. I wondered if…if I could see it now. The scar.”
Oh. That’s what he was after. Shit. I broke out in a sweat. “It’s not pretty.”
He shrugged. “You think I care about that?”
I stalled. “I’ve still got the tube as well. They won’t take it out for another few months, until they’re sure everything’s working okay with the new kidney.”
“Are you gonna let me see? I mean, it’s okay if you need more time and all, but seeing as how loads of doctors and nurses have seen it, I don’t see why you should be so worried about me having a look.” Ollie pouted.
“I didn’t care about what they thought of me,” I said, then gulped, astonished at my honesty.
Ollie gave me a soft smile. “Haven’t I told you scars are sexy?”
He had, but there was a world of difference between the battle wounds on his illustrated heroes and the surgical incision in my guts. But I nodded, because this was Ollie, and if I couldn’t give back something after all the care and attention he’d given me this last week, then that would make me a selfish git.
And okay, I knew that deep down I really was a selfish git, but I was determined to at least try to change, for Ollie’s sake. I let out a shaky breath and tried to squash down my rising paranoia as I lifted my T-shirt, then pushed down my trackie bottoms to reveal the full extent of the scar.
Ollie gasped, and I shut my eyes. I didn’t need to see my belly to know what it looked like now. There was a curved incision that started four inches to the right of my navel and ended up four inches underneath, almost in the crease of my groin. The stitches bristled like a row of blue insect legs, and the bruising spread out all around them. They’d had to shave my belly, so I looked even more patchy than usual—like a discarded teddy bear, worn bald and carelessly repaired.
“Ben? Can I… Do you mind if I touch you?”
He sounded awestruck, and I opened my eyes to find him transfixed. He didn’t look disgusted, just fascinated.
“O-okay.” I cleared my throat. “Be gentle.”
88
He gave me a steady gaze. “Chill. You can trust me.”
I tried to relax. I slumped back against the cushions and told my body not to tense when it felt Ollie’s touch. And then there it was. The lightest of contact, his fingers barely feathering against my skin as he traced around the scar. “It’s incredible to think of what you’ve been through,” he whispered. “You’re so brave.”
And then he kissed me, a fleeting brush of his lips right between my bellybutton and the incision.
My eyes started to prickle. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t brave. That I’d brought all this on myself with my reckless behaviour. That I was brimming with fear and neuroses. But I couldn’t seem to dredge up the words when I could feel his breath caressing my belly; when I could see him bent over me like that, loving me despite my flaws; when I could feel my body start to respond to his proximity. Just the faintest stirring of arousal, but enough to let me know that things would get better, given time.
“Come here,” I rasped. “Please.”
And then he was astride me, leaning his weight back onto my thighs and kissing me deeply. He’d slowed down since our first kiss in the kitchen, the sloppy enthusiasm giving way to a more controlled passion, and he moaned into my mouth, sucking my tongue hard. He sounded so turned on, so ardent, and I wanted to reward him in some way. To say thank you for sticking with me. For being here.
And more than that, I longed to taste him.
“Please,” I asked as Ollie nibbled my earlobe, and I ran my hand up his leg to find his hard-on, trapped by his jeans. “Let me suck you off.”
I felt his shuddering exhalation against my neck.
“You really want to?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain. I recalled then that all of his illustrations had shown the Ollie character blowing the Ben character—never the other way around. Had he never had a guy do this for him before?
“God, yes. I want to.” It had been way too long since I’d tasted cock, and I’d always loved it but never felt this way about any of the guys I’d been with before. The need to feel him in my mouth was like a craving, pure and painful.
Was it possible to become addicted to something you hadn’t yet experienced?
Or perhaps I was just addicted to Ollie.
“How should we do this? I don’t want to hurt you.”
I looked into his eyes and saw the truth there. He really didn’t want to hurt me in any way. He was way too good for me, but at least I could do something for him.
“Just kneel where you are.”
But he lifted himself off me and began shedding his clothing. The baggy jeans dropped to the floor, along with a pair of red-and-white spotty boxers, and I got my first eyeful of a naked Ollie. Christ, he was gorgeous. Nothing like the guys in the DVDs with their six packs, bulging pecs and all-over tans, but he was lean, and his skin was creamy white, making the tattoo and the smattering of dark hair stand out vividly. And oh God, was that a ring through one of his nipples? Just like the illustrations. It was almost enough to distract me from the sight of his prick. Almost but not quite.
I hadn’t had a proper look the last time, it had all been so hurried and such a surprise. Now I took my time, admiring the way his prick jutted out, smooth and pale and beautifully proportioned. He was bigger than I’d expected for a small-framed bloke. Even his balls were large and I couldn’t wait to feel their weight against my palm.
90
I licked my dry lips. “Here.” I beckoned him over, but he was already moving, settling down above me with his knees either side of my thighs, and then all I could see was Ollie filling my whole frame of vision. I could smell him too, arousal sharpening the musk of his sweat and that underlying Ollie scent— all heady sweetness.
I ran a fingertip down the treasure trail that led from his navel to his groin.
So perfect. My hands explored him, stroked the velvety softness of his dick, cupped his heavy balls and rolled them. Ollie gasped, and the sound spurred me on, my touch growing more confident and firm as I remembered how to pleasure another man. I wrapped my hand around him and pumped slowly, adding a twist and squeeze at the top of each stroke, enjoying the slide of his foreskin and the way the flushed head was revealed with every down stroke. Soon a bead of precome formed, the scent overpoweringly male and delicious.
I closed my mouth over him. I hadn’t meant to so soon, but I couldn’t resist tasting. I moaned as the bitter-salt flavour melted over my taste-buds. I’d missed this so much, this simple pleasure. The sensation of a heavy shaft sliding over my tongue, pushing deeper and deeper into me until my lips bumped against my hand. But this wasn’t just any nameless hook-up; this was Ollie. I looked up to find him watching me, one hand braced against the wall while the other reached down tentatively to stroke my hair. His lips parted as his breath came fast. Those eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, a rich espresso, and a flush spread over his cheeks and down his neck and chest.