Men of London 03 - Suit Yourself (11 page)

He didn’t think he was mistaking the looks
that Oliver was throwing his way either. They were hot, wanton
glances of need that Leslie felt were probably reflected in his own
eyes. He knew Nicky Starr’s preferences in men, having read his
interviews and watched the movies, and Leslie definitely fell into
the ‘right type’ category. That was his ace in the hole, he decided
while he observed Oliver over the rim of his wine glass, chatting
animatedly about a new website design he was doing for some mega
new porn star.

Leslie was exactly what Oliver Brown was
looking for. The man just didn’t know it yet. Or rather, he knew it
but wasn’t ready to act. It was going to be up to Leslie to get
things moving along and he decided the time had come to try his
luck.

His foot gently brushed against Oliver’s
under the table, and he was gratified when he started, seeing his
dinner partner’s eyes heat up as he took a sip from his whisky
glass. Leslie took it one step further and ran his booted foot (he
hadn’t worn heels tonight, preferring to ease Oliver into that side
of him a little more gradually) teasingly along Oliver’s calf.

His lips curved in a smile that said Leslie
was courting trouble. The sight of those rich, pink lips around the
rim of the glass, and the amusement in his eyes that said Oliver
knew full well what was going on, made Leslie as hard as
adamantine. He saw the Nicky Starr persona behind Oliver’s casual
lick of his lips; his narrowed eyes were almost alive with
hunger.

“Bit of a twitchy foot, there Leslie?” Oliver
said softly, his tone dangerously seductive. “You might need some
medication for that condition.”

“Oh, sorry, did I touch you? My bad. I was
just getting…a little uncomfortable. I needed to stretch.”

Oliver nodded slowly. Leslie felt the slow
stroke of a shoe against his left leg, a gentle sweep that made him
want to rip off his clothes and beg Oliver to take him right there.
Manfully, he controlled that impulse. Gideon would be as pissed as
hell if he didn’t.

The two men stared at each other over the
remains of their dinner, each silently acknowledging that things
were changing between them.

“So,” Oliver drawled as his foot crept slowly
up Leslie’s thigh. “Do you think perhaps we should get the bill and
get out of here? Back to my place, perhaps?”

Leslie swallowed, finding it hard to speak as
that wandering foot nudged his groin. Said groin was on fire.

“What about the friends thing?” he squeaked,
all the while wanting push his crotch into the foot causing him
such turmoil.

Oliver’s mouth curved in a wide, sexy grin.
“I kind of think that’s a little passé now, Leslie. I am so damn
horny if I don’t have you soon, I’m going to come right here at
this table. You have no idea how bloody sexy you look,” he murmured
huskily.

Leslie knew he’d dressed to kill in his tight
black jeans with a huge dragon buckle, a tight wine-red tee shirt,
teamed with a black suit jacket with fine red stripes. But the lust
and desire in Oliver’s eyes made him quail a little. This was a man
who had lapped at other men’s arses for a living and then fucked
the daylights out of them. As much as Leslie had his fantasies, he
was a little overwhelmed at that thought.

“You look spooked.” Oliver sat back, the
moment gone, his eyes wary. “I’m sorry. Did I come on too
strong?”

Leslie leaned forward in panic. “Oh God, no,
everything’s fine. Sorry, I just had a brain fart moment, thinking
about us, together. It sort of overloaded my circuits.”

Oliver laughed softly, the tension in his
body easing. “I thought you were having second thoughts.”

“Oh, hell no. I want to go home with you. I
haven’t been able to think of anything else. I’ll ask the waiter
for the bill then we can get a taxi back to your place?”

That course of action duly agreed, soon
Leslie and Oliver were in a taxi heading back toward his house.
Despite the intimacy of the under-the-table shenanigans, Oliver was
subdued as they sat in the back of the taxi. Leslie really wanted
to get close to him, press his own lips against those only inches
from his, but something warned him to not to push it. Oliver was in
full defensive mode, folding his arms across his broad chest and
gazing out of the window.

It was only when they were inside Oliver’s
home and the door had closed behind them that Leslie got his wish
to see and feel the man the way he wanted. He had only taken two
steps inside when he found himself being yanked into Oliver’s
strong arms, and a hot, wet, greedy mouth found his in a frenzy of
want. There were no lights on in the hallway other than a soft glow
emanating from a room nearby.

“God, you drive me crazy,” Oliver growled as
he propelled Leslie toward the open door and shoved him through.
Leslie nodded eagerly, his mouth too busy kissing any part of
Oliver he could find.

Somehow he ended up on his back on the large,
soft couch with the strong, firm body of Oliver on top of him,
rutting against him. Frantic hands scrambled at his jeans and
Oliver cursed as he realised the barrier between them.

“Button-down jeans? No easy peel zipper?”

Leslie stared at him aggrievedly despite the
fact he was as eager to get out of his pants as Oliver was to
remove them. “I love my 501s. Much more fashionable. They, oh
fuck.” His serenade of the benefits of the button fly was
interrupted as Oliver managed to get some of the buttons undone and
reached inside and took him in hand. His mouth lunged at Leslie’s
who could do nothing but lie there in the soft lamplight and be
ravaged.

Strong fingers tangled in his hair as he
kissed the crap out of Oliver, and Leslie floated in a sense of
bliss. The scent of the man on top of him, his hardness digging
into Leslie’s groin, the feel of lustful lips on his and the
roughness of stubble on Leslie’s skin were all conspiring to send
him out of his mind. He reached down and unzipped Oliver, desperate
to feel that hardness in his hands. Oliver gave a heartfelt groan
as Leslie’s fingers gripped his dick tightly, and his mouth grew
even more ravenous. When they finally came up for air, Leslie’s
lips were swollen and his brain completely scrambled by his lover’s
greedy tongue and the rough strokes on his dick. He’d never felt so
taken and assaulted and wanted in his life, and he loved it.

“You haven’t had any for a while, huh?”
Leslie managed to get out between hungry, sloppy kisses and
Oliver’s hand roaming all over his body, yanking up shirts, and
rubbing his passion-hot skin.

“Christ, it
has
been
too damn long,” Oliver panted as they stroked and mauled each
other. “I’m sorry I’m not going to last enough to fuck you right
now, Leslie, but we have all night. I want so badly to be inside
you, but I need to take the edge off first.”

And that thought sent a thrill through
Leslie’s groin and his dick exploded with creamy spurts of come
that flooded his designer jeans and his groin, and he gave a
strangled cry, pressed his mouth hard against Oliver’s neck, and
bit down in the throes of his orgasm.

Yup, I’m a biter. Hope you
can deal with it, Oliver.

Oliver yelped as Leslie’s teeth nipped skin
and then he threw back his head and roared. Warm fluid coated
Leslie’s hand, the scent of sex in the air overpowering. Oliver
collapsed against him, both of them sticky and replete. Leslie
closed his eyes to savour the fact he’d just jerked off Nicky
Starr, his personal wet dream. Satisfaction radiated through his
limbs and he smiled against Oliver’s sweaty shoulder.

“Wow,” Oliver murmured. “Sorry that didn’t
quite go as I had planned, but I…you know, needed that. Needed
you.”

“Needed you, too,” Leslie sighed. “That was
pretty awesome anyway. I can’t wait to see what else you have to
offer.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Not that I don’t like you on top
of me, but you’re pretty heavy. Do you think…?”

Oliver pushed himself upward with one
powerful move of his left arm and hovered above Leslie. He leaned
in and gave him a gentle kiss. “Your wish is my command.” He rolled
off and lay beside Leslie, on his back. Leslie unthinkingly reached
out a hand to caress his face and move damp strands away from his
eyes.

Oliver pulled back with a grunt. “Don’t do
that please.”

Leslie dropped his hand and gave a deep sigh.
“Oliver, I don’t care about the scar.”

“I do.” Oliver’s tone was uncompromising.
“It’s the only thing off limits. Don’t touch my face.”

Leslie’s heart ached at the vulnerability
behind those words. “So you can stick your tongue in the back of my
throat, but I can’t touch you there? Oliver, you are one incredibly
sexy package and the scar is part of it. Part of who you are.”

Oliver’s eyes darkened in the dim light. “You
don’t know me well enough yet to know who I am, Leslie. You might
not like the man when you truly get to see him in all his damaged
glory.”

Leslie sat up and looked at Oliver, his brows
lifting. “Really? We’ve just had hot, mad monkey sex of a sort and
you start getting all maudlin on me? I think I must have lost my
touch. Normally guys tend to be a little more upbeat after sex with
me.” He hoped his attempt at levity might lighten Oliver’s mood.
His lover snorted and Leslie thought it was with amusement and not
anger at his forthrightness.

“I think that’s probably very true.” Oliver’s
fingers lazily trailed down Leslie’s semen-sticky stomach. “You’re
the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. And my good intentions at just
being friends went out the window when you started playing footsie
with me under the table.”

It was Leslie’s turn to snort now. “Oh, I
think we both know that whole friends things wasn’t going to last
too long.”

There was a comfortable silence then Oliver
raised himself on one elbow and brushed warm lips over his
forehead. “Maybe we should clean up then get into bed. It’s a damn
sight more comfortable than this couch.”

Leslie pursed his lips. “I don’t know. I’ll
have fond memories of this couch. Being manhandled by a sexy porn
star has always been a fantasy of mine.”

Oliver stiffened and Leslie wondered what
he’d said. Oliver’s next words cleared it up.

“So you’re only here with me because I was a
porn star?” He sat up and catapulted off the couch angrily. “It’s
Nicky Starr you want then?” he spat as he stood above a wide-eyed
Leslie who wondered what the hell had gone so suddenly, horribly
wrong. “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m all out of porn star. The only
thing that’s left is a damaged Oliver Brown.” He zipped his chinos
up with trembling fingers.

Leslie knew this was a make or break moment
and he swung his legs around and stood up.

God, this man is so
broken.

Oliver watched him with both fire and
uncertainty in his eyes. Leslie reached him and enveloped him in
his arms, tightening his grip when Oliver tried to pull away.

“I didn’t say that,” Leslie whispered into
Oliver’s ear. “I said Nicky was the fantasy. You’re the real deal
and I know who I’d rather have. Oliver Brown. The man in my arms,
the one whose heart I can feel beating—that’s the man I want. Stop
being so damn prickly. I know I say the wrong thing sometimes—I
wouldn’t be me if I didn’t—but you’re going to have to learn to
live with it if you want to be with me.” He nibbled on Oliver’s
ear. “I’m a package deal. You get the kooky with the sexy.”

He took a chance and leaned away, then framed
Oliver’s face with his hands, hoping he wouldn’t be pushed away.
“You’re pretty special just as you are. And I think you should take
me to bed now and fuck the daylights out of me. I have a hankering
to meet Mr. Brown up close and personal.”

Oliver sighed deeply and rested his forehead
against Leslie’s. Leslie did a mental fist pump that he’d gotten to
touch Oliver’s face without incident. That had to be good sign.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver muttered. “I’m not used
to this sort of stuff anymore. I…”

Leslie didn’t let him finish, just stuck his
tongue in Oliver’s mouth and proceeded to mine it. His lover
responded with a moan, gripping Leslie’s hips and grinding against
him.

Good God, the man is
already hard. How the hell does he do that? I guess in his past
profession he got it trained like a performing monkey.

The thought made Leslie giggle and Oliver
pulled away in confusion. Leslie didn’t have the heart to tell him
that he’d just compared Oliver’s prick to a monkey, so instead he
went back to mining. His own cock was starting to come to life
again, and the thought of a bed and perhaps even getting to stay
over for the night and wake up to him was a real turn-on.

“We need to get to bed,” Leslie panted as he
pulled away from Oliver’s seeking mouth. “I need skin, flesh and
your cock in my arse. What do you say?”

Oliver seemed not to need encouragement. He
took Leslie’s hand and dragged him up the winding stairs to the top
landing. Leslie was unceremoniously pushed into a bedroom, a
lavishly decorated royal blue and burgundy concoction of satins,
cottons and plush armchairs; thick, heavy curtains and a chandelier
in the middle of ceiling that took his breath away.

He stared at it in awe. “Oh my God, you are
such
a porn star.” Immediately, he clapped
his hands to his lips and turned to Oliver. “Oh crap, I’m sorry, my
mouth ran away again.”

Oliver put his hand across Leslie’s mouth,
his eyes dark with hunger. “Strip,” he commanded. “I want you naked
on my bed, right now.”

Leslie was faint with the thought of being
shagged and hastily he disrobed, feeling a slight prickle of
discomfort at leaving his already crusty clothes in a heap on the
floor. When he turned around, now stark naked, Oliver’s smile
turned wolfish as he took in Leslie’s hard-on and naked body.