Chapter 4
DeAnna Zankich
Sequel to | Sweet Redemption
Summary: The days leading up to the big `I do'.
Warnings: None
Author Notes: A thousand thanks to my sweet friend Kristina Grönberg for the title.
Spoilers: None
Claridge's didn't look like all that much from the outside, but once they walked into the spacious lobby, Brian knew he and Michael were in for some serious luxury. Lloyds had arranged for Brian to have his own suite and Ryder did some finagling to get Michael his own room--not a suite, just a `regular' room--but even that was ridiculously expensive and ornate.
After checking in Tuesday morning, they both wanted to go to their rooms and rest for a bit. A red-eye flight is still a red-eye flight, even in first class, and they were both beat. In the elevator Brian looked over at his friend who was inspecting the polished fixtures in the car with wide eyes.
"Welcome to London, Mikey," he said.
Michael gave him a huge smile. "Dude, this is so cool."
Brian nodded, feeling very self-satisfied. He was deeply pleased to be able to share this his lifelong friend. "Yeah," he said. "This is pretty cool. Thanks for coming with me." He put his arm around Michael and kissed his forehead. "I know it wasn't easy getting away from the doc."
"He's not my warden, Brian. I just . . . told him I was going."
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Brian and Michael walked out into the warmly lit hallway and started toward Michael's room. Once they found the door, Michael swiped his key car and the lock clicked. Brian pushed the door open.
Claridge's called this a `deluxe Queen' room. Completely regardless of the fact that the name referred to the size of the bed, the irony of it made them both howl with laughter. It was a nice, large room, but the navy blue carpet and matching drapes made it a bit dark. The designers had clearly tried to overcome that by painting the wall behind the bed bright yellow, but it was still fairly dim in there.
Brian opened the sheer curtains that covered the windows and let in more of the gray daylight. They had managed to fly just ahead of the storm front moving in but the thunderheads were already gathering over the city. It would be raining little British cats and dogs by nightfall.
"It's really nice," Michael enthused, setting his bag on the bed. "But I really wouldn't have minded bunking with you. I'm sort of freeloading, anyway."
"Don't be silly," Brian said. "Besides, I might need my privacy." He walked back toward the door with his garment bag still over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go check out my room. Bring your key."
Michael followed him out into the hallway again and they made their way down the corridor to the end where it turned off to the right. There were two doors down in that dogleg and the one on the left was Brian's suite. He slid the key card and opened the door into an inviting living space with deep maroon carpeting and drapes and overstuffed furniture arranged around a small fireplace.
"Cool," Michael mused, trailing him into the suite. "They took good care of you."
Brian set his bag down by the door and proceeded to check out his digs. The dcor was a little stuffy, but still comfortable. It reminded him of the home of one of his mother's friends that he and Claire used to visit when they were kids. The colors and fabrics were distinctly feminine but Brian didn't mind. The bed was a king and the bathtub was huge and, of course, there was a complimentary mini bar. He had everything he needed.
"What do you think?" Michael asked as he peered out the window at the view of bustling Brook Street.
"It'll work," Brian replied. "I need a shower and a nap. How about you? You tired?"
"Dead," Michael said. "But shouldn't we try to stay awake? Combat jet lag and all that?"
Brian shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the chair by the window. "I probably won't be able to sleep, but I want to lie down for a while, anyway. And I definitely need a shower. How about I meet you in two hours and we'll get some lunch?"
"Okay." Michael said cheerfully. "You know where I am." He waved his key card as he passed, giving Brian a quick kiss on the cheek. "This is really so damned cool, Brian. Thanks."
"I'm just glad you came," he said, ruffling Michael's hair affectionately. "See you in a few hours."
Michael walked out the door and closed it solidly after him. Brian waited until he heard the door down the hall open and close before he picked up the phone and dialed the front desk.
"Goodmorning, Claridge's Reception," the clerk said in a crisp, very English accent.
"Goodmorning. This is Brian Kinney in suite 312. I'm expecting some friends to join me here in the hotel and I was hoping you could tell me if they've checked in yet."
"Of course, Mr. Kinney. What are the names?"
Brian sat on the overstuffed goldish couch and said, "have Mr. and Mrs. Richard Stephani arrived yet? S.T.E.P.H.A.N.I."
"One moment," the clerk said. "I'll just have a look."
He could hear the clicking of keyboard keys and then the very cheerful Brit went on. "Mr. and Mrs. Stephani joined us last night. They are staying in suite 516 if you'd like to ring them. All room to room calls are free."
"516," Brian repeated, committing the number to memory. "Great. And how about Stuart Jones and Vincent Tyler? They would be staying in a suite together."
More clicking and then the clerk said, "Messrs. Jones and Tyler have yet to arrive. They phoned ahead to let us know they would be coming in early this evening. Would you like to leave a message for them?"
"No, that's all right. Do you have a suite number for them?"
"They will be staying in suite 509," the clerk said.
"Great. Thank you."
"Of course. Is there anything else I can do to make your stay more enjoyable this morning, Mr. Kinney?"
Brian grinned but kept his cheeky remarks to himself. "No, thank you. I'm fine. Thanks for your help."
"You're quite welcome. Goodbye, then," the clerk said amiably and hung up.
He put down the phone and stretched his legs out in front of him. His bones ached from sitting on the plane for so long and he was dead tired. Michael had a point about trying to stay awake but Brian didn't think a short nap would hurt anything. He was normally a terrible insomniac anyway.
Dragging himself into the bathroom, he turned on the shower and began to undress.
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Stuart:
After cocktails on the plane mixed with the Vicodin he took before they left--and then two rounds of extremely vigorous sex, Vince was sleeping soundly on the big bed in their suite. Stuart wandered around the living area in a silk robe the hotel provided, sipping a glass of red wine and contemplating what he fancied for dinner. It was almost eight o'clock and they had been in the hotel for a little over an hour.
Thunder rumbled overhead and he went to the window to look out at the sky. A thin drizzle had already begun to fall, making the pavement and the shiny black taxis glisten down on Brook Street. With all the excitement of last minute wedding plans as well as the plans for this little trip to London, neither Stuart nor Vince had bothered to check the forecast. Consequently, neither of them had brought an umbrella.
Assuming Vince would sleep for at least another hour, Stuart went back to the bedroom and quietly put on a pair of jeans and a sweater. He figured he'd go down to the shop in the lobby and procure an umbrella in case they wanted to go out later. It would also give him a chance to ask the front desk which room Kate was in since she neglected to tell him when they spoke the night before.
He checked his reflection in the mirror by the door then grabbed the room key and slipped out quietly.
While he waited for the lift on the fifth floor, he noted how quiet the hotel seemed for the eight o'clock hour. He wondered how many of the guests attending the Lloyds party the next night were actually staying at Claridge's.
The lift arrived and the doors slid open. Stuart stepped into the car before noticing it already had an occupant.
"Good evening," the man said in a distinct American accent.
"'Evening," Stuart returned, actually feeling a bit shy for some reason. He pressed the button for the lobby level then leaned against the wall of the lift as the car began its decent.
Discretely, Stuart looked over at the other man. He was older, probably in his mid-fifties, but he was dead good-looking. He was sort of a cross between Richard Gere and Sean Connery. He was taller than Stuart, but not as tall as Brian, with thick, salt and pepper hair cut neatly around his face--but in a contemporary style, not something an `old man' would wear. His eyes were dark gray and had a deep inner glint that made Stuart want to look at him more closely. The man's clean-shaven face showed his good bones and even, healthy skin tone. His lips were a bit thin but they had a lovely little curve to them that gave them fullness. Dressed in a finely tailored charcoal wool suit, he looked like he'd just come from a business meeting.
When Stuart looked back at the man's face, he was looking right in Stuart's eyes curiously. He realized he'd been staring and breathed a small, self-conscious laugh as he turned away.
"You look familiar," the man said congenially. "Have we met?"
"I don't think so," Stuart said. He was still a little buzzed from the drinks on the plane and he was feeling devilish. "If I had met you before, I would have tried to shag you."
To Stuart's surprise, the man laughed genuinely in response. He wasn't the least bit offended. In fact, he seemed to take the remark as a compliment.
"Well, I'm flattered," he said. "But I don't think my wife would appreciate it. She's the jealous type."
"Oh, well," Stuart grinned playfully and flirted his ass off. He had nothing to lose.
"Seriously, though," the man went on. "I feel like I've seen you before. Do you know my wife, Katherine Stephani?"
Stuart's eyes widened and he let out a little laugh. "Oh my God! You're Richard!"
"I am," he said brightly. "And you're Stuart, aren't you? Stuart Jones, her friend from Manchester."
Extending his hand, Stuart introduced himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally."
"Likewise," Richard said. He had a good grip and his skin was warm and dry. Stuart liked him immediately.
The lift reached the lobby and the doors slid open. Richard and Stuart got out.
"I've heard so much about you," he continued. "I'm really sorry I missed you when you were visiting Kate a few months ago. I hear you all had a good time."
"Yeah, we did," Stuart said. "But I was beginning to think you didn't exist."
Richard laughed softly. "I get that a lot from her side of the fence. Her parents were afraid I wouldn't show up to the wedding. Listen, what are you up to right now?"
"I was going to run to the shop and pick up an umbrella. Vince and left home without one and it looks like it's going to start raining like mad tonight."
"Vince, right," Richard said thoughtfully. He seemed to be putting together all the details of what he'd heard about Stuart from his wife. "He's here with you, isn't he?"
"He is. He's upstairs sleeping. He doesn't like to fly so I gave him a Vicodin before we left. Knocked him out, I'm afraid."
"I'm not a good flyer, either," Richard confessed. "Which makes no sense for someone that travels as much as I do. Well, Kate's out shopping and I don't expect her back for hours. We both seem to be on our own for a while so why don't we go into the bar and have a drink? Get acquainted?"
"Sounds good," Stuart said. "I want to run into the shop and get the umbrella before they close. I'll meet you in the bar?"
"Great. What do you drink?"
"I'll have a dirty vodka martini with extra olives."
"Ah," Richard smiled slyly. "I see my wife's influence, there."
Stuart laughed. "I reckon that's true. See you in a minute."
They parted company and Stuart walked down to the small souvenir shop near the front door. He selected a large black umbrella out of a stand near the counter and paid the bored looking young woman behind the register. Taking the umbrella and his change, he walked back through the lobby to Claridge's Bar where he could see Kate's husband sitting on one of the oversized red vinyl stools waiting for him.
Stuart climbed up on a stool next to Richard and nodded to the barman who was busily concocting their drinks.
"You and Vince are coming to the party tomorrow night, right?" Richard said.
"Yeah, that's why we're down here. My boss wanted me to come and represent the Manchester office. He's sending a few other Thrive executives as well. Kate, obviously, and two other blokes from our European offices."
"Kate told me that you don't particularly get along with one of the other execs," Richard said.
Stuart breathed a laugh. "That bastard Kurtz. Yeah. He made me punch him two years ago and we've never really been civil since."
Richard laughed. "I'm sure he deserved it. What does Vince do?"
"He's a deputy manager at a supermarket in Manchester. He doesn't have to work, he just wants to."
"I'm glad to say that's the same for Kate. She loves her job, though. I wouldn't want to ask her to give it up just so I could swagger around saying `my wife is a woman of leisure'." The barman put their cocktails down and then gave them a clean ashtray. Richard took out two cigars and offered one to Stuart.
"Thanks," he said. "I haven't had one of these in ages." He smelled the tightly rolled cylinder appreciatively then nipped off the end, carefully discarding the bit of leaf and tobacco in a corner of his cocktail napkin. Richard did the same then gave him a light with a handsome Lucienne cigar lighter.
Richard lit his own smoke then picked up his drink and raised it to Stuart. "Well, cheers. To new friends."
"To new friends," Stuart said, tapping his glass against Richard's. He took a sip of the strong martini and smiled. The first sip was always the best. "Are you staying the week in London?"
"No, just a few days. Then of course we'll be in Manchester for the weekend." Richard smiled at him warmly. "You must be excited about the ceremony."
"Yeah," Stuart said. "It's . . . all sort of overwhelming but in a good way. Loads of changes and all. I mean, we live together now so things won't change that much, but just going through the ceremony will make things FEEL different."
"Kate wouldn't live with me until we got married," Richard told him. "Well, there was a bit of tension with her father and me as well, but she had old fashioned ideas of her own. Of course she and I had been a couple for almost a year but she wanted the big, traditional wedding and the white gown."
"I'll bet she was beautiful," Stuart said, meaning it.
Richard set his drink down and fished in the inside pocket of his charcoal suit coat. He took out his billfold and opened it to a small black and white photo of Kate in her wedding dress. It was as close up as the photographer could have got and still got most of the gown in the shot. Stuart took the photo and looked at it closely.
She had worn her hair down and it streamed in soft ringlets over her bare shoulders. The dress looked like something a princess would wear--perfect, dense, linear white satin tumbling down into a long train. No veil, but a delicate sheath of lace draped gently around her shoulders like a shawl. Her bouquet was a cluster of white lilies and mums.
"Wow," he said.
"That's what I said," Richard said smiling.
Stuart handed the photo back. "You're a lucky man, Richard Stephani. I hope you know that."
"I thank my lucky stars every day, I assure you." Picking up his drink again, Richard made another toast. "To Katherine."
"To Katherine." Stuart drank to his friend and wondered where she was just then. For some reason, he felt like he should wait to ask about her. In fact, he felt like sitting there in Claridge's Bar with Richard was exactly what he should be doing for the next hour or so. He had no idea why he felt that way, but it was a strange, calm certainty. Stuart got these inklings occasionally--like a given day was on its own course and everything would happen in due time. Over the years, he'd learned to trust his instinct and let fate have its way.
Tapping his cigar into the ashtray, he got comfortable on the plush stool and proceeded to get to know Kate's husband.
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Vince:
He woke up just after eight and sat up in the huge hotel bed. Instantly he knew he was alone in the suite. Scrubbing his eyes, he got up and went to the loo to relieve himself and splash some water on his face. He still felt extremely drugged even after that deep nap. More than that, he still felt a little bit starved sexually. He had no idea what had made him so carnal that afternoon, but he remembered practically mauling his lover in the big bed as soon as the bellhop left them alone. Vince had needed to be fucked so badly, it was almost painful. Vaguely he wondered if that was what Stuart felt like most of the time.
After drinking a few glasses of water, he sat on the edge of the bed by the phone and called the front desk.
"Good evening, Claridge's Reception."
"Oh, good evening. This is Vincent Tyler in suite 509."
"Yes, hello Mr. Tyler," the cheerful clerk said. "How may I assist you?"
"Well, I was wondering . . . were you at the desk when we checked in?"
"Yes, I was."
"Brilliant. Then . . . this sounds odd, but have you seen my partner? He's . . . not in our room and I was wondering if--"
"In fact, I have seen Mr. Jones," the clerk said pleasantly. "He and Mr. Stephani are in the bar currently. Would you like me to transfer you to that line?"
"Oh--no," Vince said. "That's all right. I'll just come down and meet him. Thanks." He hung up and sat there a moment re-thinking his decision to go downstairs. If Stuart had run into Kate's husband, he would most likely want to get to know him. Vince figured he should leave them to it on their own. As long as he knew Stuart wasn't with Brian, Vince was fine.
He walked out to the living area of the suite and found the room service menu. For some reason, he was craving a toasted cheese sandwich.
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Brian:
He and Michael had dinner in Covent Garden at a sad excuse for a Tex Mex restaurant then got a cab back to the hotel. They were extremely drunk and giggling like fools and the cab driver was obviously glad to have the noisy Americans out of his car. What the restaurant had lacked in good food, it more than made up for in interesting cocktails and the boys had imbibed heavily.
They had been induced by the clever barman to try absinthe, which remained illegal in The States. At first when they sipped the greenish cocktails, Brian and Michael agreed that it tasted like a mixture of black licorice and turpentine. Neither of them really felt anything until they'd got about three sips into them. And then it hit. The slow, erotic burn of pure grain alcohol destroying hundreds of brain cells at a time. They had both started giggling as their eyes watered and their cheeks flushed and they instantly ordered another round.
After stumbling out of the taxi in front of the hotel, Michael stood on the sidewalk and raised his arms to the soft raindrops tumbling out of the night sky. Brian took one look at him and couldn't help laughing.
"What's this, your impression of Tim Robbins in `The Shawshank Redemption'? Come on. You're getting soaked." He scooped his arm around his friend's waist and ushered him toward the hotel doors.
"This is SO COOL!" Michael bellowed, laughing out loud. "London rain! God, I am so fucked up, Brian. I'm totally hallucinating. No WONDER this shit is illegal at home. Everyone would be addicted."
Brian shook out his wet hair as they entered the well-lit lobby. The hotel was crowded that night with beautifully dressed people milling around checking in and out, greeting other beautifully dressed people and having drinks in the bar. Dishes and silverware clattered in the restaurant. Piano music played from somewhere. Brian realized he was very intoxicated and that all the colors and sounds around him were heightened like an hallucination.
"I bet they have absinthe in the bar here," Michael said excitedly. "Let's have one more. Come on!" He dragged Brian's wrist and hauled him toward Claridge's Bar.
"Mikey, don't pull me. I'm right behind you. I swear to God, if you embarrass me, I'll overnight you back to Pittsburgh in a Fed Ex pouch."
Michael thought that idea was unbelievably funny and he laughed out loud again, squeezing his eyes shut as they stumbled toward the bar. Brian just sighed reluctantly and let himself be dragged.
When they came to the door of Claridge's Bar, Brian stopped dead.
"What?" Michael said, looking back at him with wide, drunken dark eyes.
"Shit," he said, staring at the two men seated on those plush red stools at the bar. Richard and Stuart. He blinked, watching them for a thoughtful moment before he said anything else.
Michael turned around and looked in the direction of Brian's gaze. Stepping close, he whispered "who's the hottie?"
"Which one?" Brian asked, grinning. Since Michael's boyfriend was quite a bit older than him, Brian was very curious to see which of the two men had got his friend's attention.
"The younger one."
"That's Stuart," Brian told him. "The other guy is Kate's husband, Richard."
"That's HIM?" Michael said, still whispering but his jaw was open. "The mythical Stuart? Oh my God! You never told me he was so hot."
"I so did tell you that!" Brian insisted. "You just hated the topic so much that you tuned me out whenever I talked about him."
"I never tune you out!" Michael said indignantly, his voice a bit too loud. Brian covered his mouth with his hand.
"Shhh," he said, then started giggling again. "That's it. I'm calling Fed Ex."
"Shut up, asshole. Come on. Let's go over there. Introduce me to your hot Irish lover. I totally want to hear him talk." He poked Brian in the ribs teasingly.
"No--wait, Mikey. Wait." He pulled Michael's arm and held him back at the door.
"What? What is wrong with you? Let's go in."
"No, I don't want to. Not with Richard there. Come on, let's just go upstairs and order from room service. I don't want to go in there right now." He gave Michael's arm a good hard tug and managed to drag him away toward the elevators.
Michael was still laughing happily even as he stumbled behind Brian into the first available car. When the doors slid closed, it was weirdly quiet in the small, elegant enclosure and Brian could hear his heart beating in his ears.
"What is your deal?" Michael asked. "I thought you were into that guy."
"I don't want to talk about it now," Brian said. "I'm too wasted. Let's just . . . have room service bring up some wine or something. Okay?"
Michael scowled at him as the elevator ascended smoothly to the third floor. "Okay. Whatever you want to do."
They got out silently and went to Brian's suite. He had left the windows open in the living area and the clean, slightly acidic smell of the rain outside filled the room. The sheer curtains billowed in the breeze created by the door opening and Michael took a deep breath.
"God, even the AIR smells different," he said, walking to the couch and flopping down on his back. "I am soooo drunk."
"Want me to have some coffee sent up instead?" Brian asked.
"No. I should just go to bed. What time is it?"
"Just before nine."
"Is it too early to go to bed? Should I have some coffee and try to stay up longer?"
"It doesn't really matter," Brian told him. "You'll wake up at 4:00am no matter when you go to sleep."
Michael groaned and flopped back down on the couch. "I've never had jet lag before. I'm out of my element."
Brian looked for the room service menu in the living area but couldn't find it. After some searching, he found it in a desk drawer in the bedroom. He read the list of beverages out loud as he returned to the living area.
"We could get some juice sent up," he said. "You probably need the vitamins." When he got no reply, he looked up at the couch and saw Michael lying there in a deep sleep.
Brian sighed and went back to the bedroom to pull one of the blankets off the bed. Carefully he covered his friend with it, then sat down in a chair by the couch. He didn't really want anything more to drink and he knew he wasn't ready to sleep yet. Brian felt restless and full of energy and the crazy buzz from the absinthe was making him feel more reckless than usual. And of course, he felt like fucking.
Stuart was down in the bar, but he was with Richard and Brian knew without a doubt that he would not be able to control himself in Stuart's presence--not when he was this wasted and uninhibited. Kate was probably shopping so she was no use. The only person who might be around to successful amuse Brian in his current state of mind was Vince.
"509," he said to himself. Glancing at Michael, he got up and went to the desk by the window where there was a pad of hotel stationary. He scribbled a quick note then carefully placed the slip of paper on Michael's sleeping chest.
Grabbing his room key, Brian slipped out the door.
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Vince:
Still in his robe, Vince bashed channels on the television as he picked at the remains of his toasted cheese sandwich from the room service tray. When he heard the knock on the door, he froze for a moment knowing it wasn't Stuart. The room key was gone and he knew his lover had taken it with him down to the bar. He wouldn't need to knock.
Vince muted the television and got up, walking quietly to the suite door. He peered through the little hole to see who was out in the hall.
"It's Brian," he said softly against the door. Vince could almost feel the vibration of his deep, scratchy voice along his spine. Suddenly letting Brian in seemed like a wonderful plan.
Opening the door, he stood aside in his robe knowing his near nakedness would be appreciated by the randy American. "Hiya. I was afraid you might be with my lover," Vince lied. He wanted to gauge Brian's reaction to see if he'd known Vince was alone in the suite.
"He's in the bar," Brian said. "With Kate's lover. Can I come in?"
"Yeah." Vince watched Brian closely as he passed in the narrow entry hallway. The handsome American smelled faintly of a spicy alcohol and cigarettes but he also smelled like some sort of warm, comfort food that Vince couldn't wait to eat. He licked his lips and closed the door.
"Want a drink?"
"No, thanks. Mikey and I got tanked on absinthe at this horrible Tex Mex place in Covent Garden."
"Why on earth would you eat Tex Mex in London?" Vince scoffed. "Are you daft?"
"It was Mikey's idea. He's never been here before--I'm trying to let him experience whatever he wants to do." Brian walked over to the couch in the living area, but he did not sit down. Instead he turned to Vince and gave him an open, slightly longing look. "I've missed you guys. Can I have a kiss?"
Slowly, Vince took a few steps forward until he was standing right in front of Brian. He tilted his chin up slightly to look in the taller man's eyes, then he reached out with his fingers and touched Brian's belly very gently. He could feel Brian's heart hammering quickly inside his torso. "I really shouldn't," Vince said.
"I know," Brian whispered, inhaling so he could smell Vince's skin. "But can I have one, anyway?"
"Just one?"
Brian smiled slyly. "You little tease."
"I never tease," Vince said. He stepped back and turned toward the bedroom, strolling in that direction casually. "Why don't you come in here and watch telly with me?" He grinned to himself as he walked up to the bed and moved the tray out of the way. Then he crawled across the mattress and fluffed up the pillows on the big bed so they could sit comfortably.
Brian came into the room and tossed his key on the bedside table. He was wearing a bulky white sweater and black jeans and he presently tugged the sweater off over his head.
"Are you hot?" Vince asked him innocently. He even batted his eyes for affect.
"It's been said," Brian retorted, playing with the double meaning. "Are you sure you need to be wearing those shorts?" He crawled across the bed like a big cat, his lovely hazel eyes caressing Vince's body covetously. When he was close enough, Brian bent down and touched his nose to Vince's naked tummy. He ran the tip of his nose up and down the soft line of blond hairs there until he came to the waistband of Vince's shorts. Slowly extending his tongue, he placed a kiss just below Vince's navel, then looked up at him with his beautiful eyes full of lust.
"I can smell him all over you," Brian purred.
"That happens when you shag someone all day. Besides, he's probably part of my skin by now."
Brian licked his full, lovely lips. "Vince . . . please . . . can I taste you?"
"Be my guest," Vince said, his heartbeat racing wildly. He felt confident he was being perceived as nonchalant, but inside he was reeling with excitement. Vince was very rarely moved to misbehave-- even as a child--but at that moment he was positively surging with mischief.
He laid still while Brian tugged his shorts off, lightly carding his fingers through the American's soft light brown hair. He tingled everywhere and sighed with the delicious anticipation of feeling Brian's tongue licking him. Something about the fact that Brian's motivation was to taste Stuart on Vince's skin made him wildly aroused. He loved the behavioral immunity that afforded him. Vince felt like he was free to just lie there selfishly and be pleased.
Wiggling between Vince's legs, Brian rubbed his nose and his smooth, dry lips over the insides of Vince's thighs, tickling the hairs and the sensitive skin with his warm breath. He was breathing in and out in deep draughts, smelling, inhaling, savoring the scent of Stuart that lingered all over Vince's body.
Closing his eyes, Vince couldn't help but smile to himself. Having Brian alone was more interesting than he'd ever imagined. He felt like he was balancing the scale in his relationship with Stuart--like this action was someone necessary for them to go forward. A sort of sexual eye for an eye. Not wishing to think much about that, Vince brought both of his hands down into Brian's hair and teased his fingers through it, loving the decadent silkiness. The different texture of his straight, feathery strands compared to Stuart's satiny curls was a delicious contrast.
Brian lifted him by the hips just enough to slide a pillow under his lower back. He stroked Vince's thighs with kisses and long, warm licks before he ran his tongue in one sweeping stroke up the warm crevice between his cheeks. Brian didn't stop, he kept going all the way up Vince's balls and up the stiffening shaft of his cock. Once he reached the head, Brian covered it with his mouth and sucked it almost roughly, bringing Vince's erection to its swollen fullest. He moaned and spread his legs wider to give Brian room to move. All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to have his cock sucked.
Brian used his hands to stroke the stiff shaft as he sucked greedily at the head of Vince's cock. Just when he started to feel the first tingle of his orgasm, Brian moved away, licking and kissing Vince's belly and thighs until his tongue found the hot, sensitive anus again. Brian dove in, his tongue slicking and stroking the tender opening with ravenous intensity. Vince groaned and tugged at the sheets under him, burning all over with desire. His nipples hardened and itched and his cock throbbed against his belly, leaving a slick wet spot just below his navel.
"Brian . . ." he gasped. "Oh. . . God . . ."
Raising his head, the American looked in Vince's eyes. "May I?" he said.
Breathing raggedly, Vince said, "yes, you may. In fact, you'd bloody well better."
Brian raised up on his knees and fished in the pocket of his jeans for a condom. Vince could see the distinct outline of his large, erect cock pressing the denim along his thigh. Holding the condom in his teeth, Brian moved to the end of the bed and stood up just long enough to shimmy out of his trousers. He bit the packet open and quickly slid the condom on that big, beautiful cock then he crawled back up the mattress. His eyes had gone a deep golden-green.
"You be gentle, now," Vince warned. He hooked his legs up over Brian's shoulders and watched while the American got himself into position.
"Are you sure about that?" Brian purred. "After everything we've been through together, you REALLY want me to fuck you gently? Does Stuart fuck you gently?"
Vince pulled him down into a kiss, tangling his tongue against Brian's aggressively, forcefully. He bit Brian's lip so hard the other man flinched.
"Ouwww . . ." Brian groaned sexily. "So fierce, baby . . . come on, kiss me nicely . . ." He lowered down again and Vince bit him again, that time on his plump, curvy top lip.
Giggling, Vince sucked both Brian's lips to soothe them, then he slid his tongue inside that hot mouth and gave him a proper kiss. His cock pulsated on his belly and his anus clenched, craving to be stretched and filled.
Brian pressed his cockhead against Vince's anus and looked in his eyes challengingly. "I'll fuck you without lube, if you don't play nice."
Vince giggled again, sliding his hand up under the pillow for the small bottle of lube he and Stuart brought for their trip. Stuart had called it their `travel size love grease'. He handed it to Brian with a playful smirk.
"Why are you letting me do this?" Brian asked, reaching down between their bodies to slick some of the lubricant on Vince's tingling opening.
"Because I fancy you," Vince replied, wiggling into Brian's probing fingers. He knew that wasn't what Brian meant but he felt like being cagey.
"Won't your lover be pissed off at you if he catches us?" Brian licked Vince's earlobe then kissed it softly, making him shiver.
"He won't catch us," he said, kissing Brian's mouth. "But if he did, it would be YOU he was angry with, Brian, not me. He's very possessive of me."
"Mmm . . . I know he is. He doesn't like it when I kiss you." Brian covered Vince's mouth with his own and kissed him again.
Vince sighed into the luscious kiss, raising his body up to encourage penetration. He couldn't wait to have Brian's cock inside him. Blessedly, he didn't have to wait long. With his hand on the small of Vince's back, Brian lifted him up just enough to give him access and then he pressed his cockhead passed that preliminary ring of muscle. Even though Vince was very relaxed and dying to be fucked, it was still a slightly painful fit.
He lifted his hips a bit more and took deep breaths until he felt his body give in to the pressure of that intense stretch. Brian's cock felt like hot steel impaling him and he moaned as the initial pain gave way to deep pleasure. Brian kept kissing him softly in that way Vince loved--long, gentle sucking smacks and little chewing bites of his bottom lip. He seemed to be waiting, letting the kissing build their desire almost to the point of making them come--and then finally, when it was almost too late, he began rocking his hips and driving his cock in and out.
"Ooohhh, God . . ." Brian purred in his ear. "You feel . . . soooo fucking good . . . I can't take--" he sighed deeply. " . . . I won't last very long . . ."
Vince tingled and clinched his fingers around Brian's strong arms, gritting his teeth from the intensity of his pleasure. He pushed into that big cock hungrily, not caring that it was stretching him impossibly wide. He just needed to be filled--he needed Brian to fill him. The fit was both perfect and just a bit too much all at the same time. He heard himself whining as their speed picked up and his cock leaked pre-come in big drops on his tummy. As Brian's big, swollen cock rubbed against his prostate inside, Vince felt his whole body ready itself for his orgasm. His nerves hummed and seemed to engorge with feeling and then he let out one long sigh as the brutal, vibrating contractions began. He cried out and shivered all over, knowing he was squeezing Brian's organ roughly with his spasming muscles.
Closing his teeth over the fleshy part of Vince's shoulder and biting down hard, Brian's hips bucked as he came. His own contractions must have been fierce because he whimpered against Vince's neck as his body trembled.
As soon as his orgasm ebbed, Vince felt too full. In fact, Brian's big cock was hurting him a bit. He placed his hands on Brian's thighs as they both tried to catch their breath and squeezed him with his fingers.
"I need you to pull out," he whispered.
Brian raised up immediately and gently eased his spent but still hard cock out of Vince's body. Still kissing him, Brian murmured softly against Vince's lips. "Sorry about that. You okay?"
"Oh, yes," Vince replied, stroking his fingers through Brian's soft hair again. "Everything's lovely." He lowered his legs and stretched out on the mattress, pulling Brian down on top of him. He loved the weight of the American's body--his firm muscles and long legs pressing against Vince in an almost protective way. They kissed softly until they both needed to breathe and that was the first time either of them noticed Stuart standing in the bedroom doorway.
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