Men of London 03 - Suit Yourself (12 page)

“I think I said get on the bed,” he murmured
gently, eye-fucking Leslie from top to bottom. “I’ll get the stuff
we need.”

Leslie nodded and climbed onto the bed, lying
face down, rubbing his cock shamelessly against the silk of the
duvet. He didn’t care that he was staining Oliver’s cover. All he
knew was that the fabric felt good against his swollen and heated
skin and he moaned a little as he writhed in pleasure. There was a
choked gasp behind him and he looked back over his shoulder to see
Oliver watching him, lube and condoms in hand, his face twisted in
lust. His hair was mussed, but still it covered the scar. Leslie
had a plan for that later, to get Oliver to be less self-conscious
about it. He also saw for the first time the twisted skin that ran
down the outside of Oliver’s right arm, and the thin scars that
bisected the same side of his torso. None of that mattered to
him.

“Fuck, you look so hot,” Oliver said as he
leapt onto the bed and straddled Leslie’s calves. “You have the
perfect arse, you know that? Tight and just waiting for me.”

Leslie shivered, those words causing goose
bumps to form on his over sensitive skin. “It could be the
heel-wearing,” he mused. “I like to exercise my butt muscles when I
wear them and dance. They say it’s a good way to tone up.” A hot
body covered his and he closed his eyes in bliss.

“You wear heels?” Oliver’s tongue licked at
his ear. “That is fucking sexy. I love that image.” His voice was
husky, full of desire. “Will you wear them for me one day? Let me
fuck you in them?”

Leslie’s heart filled with joy. He had a
picture of himself on his phone in a corset, hat and heels. He’d
have to show it to Oliver one day and get his engine even more
revved up.

“Oh, God yes,” he exclaimed as Oliver’s
tongue trailed down his shoulder blades and back. He gripped the
bed sheets tighter at the sensation. “I have this pair of red ones
you’ll like, and…oh, hell yes…” His voice tailed off in pure
pleasure as Oliver parted his arse cheeks and lapped at his hole.
Then the bliss of having fingers inside him, opening him wide,
rendered him speechless. He gyrated and made little mewling kitten
noises as Oliver proceeded to probe his hole, pushing his tongue
inside him with wet, sloppy sounds that made Leslie’s cock
throb.

He lost himself in the feeling of being
explored, dominated and well and truly prepped. When he felt the
cool dribble of lube at his hole and between his cheeks he sighed
in relief and pushed his backside toward the man currently taking
him to such pleasurable heights. When his hips were pulled up and
Oliver’s cock nudged his entrance, Leslie pushed back and groaned
as it sank deep inside him.

“Are you okay, Leslie?” Oliver’s husky voice
was strained. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Leslie huffed loudly. “Just bloody get going,
will you? I’m chafing my cock rubbing against this silky stuff, but
it feels so damn good. And you inside me…God, it’s heaven...”

There was a warm chuckle behind him and
Leslie arched his back as Oliver began pounding into him in
earnest. The smooth slide and slap of flesh was a welcome sound in
the room, as the two men moved together, finding each other’s
rhythm. The unsteady movements caused them to grunt and swear in
equal measure.

Leslie was lost in the moment and when Oliver
reached around, his breath hot against Leslie’s ear, and took his
cock in his strong hand and jerked him with smooth, practiced ease,
Leslie gave a cry of delight and came all over Oliver’s satin
cover. His body trembled, his skin prickling with heat and his
balls contracting as he spewed forth what seemed like a
never-ending stream.

Behind him, Oliver continued pounding
Leslie’s tender hole then tensed and gave a strangled gasp as he
bucked against Leslie’s arse, clutching his hips with fingers that
Leslie was sure would make him bruise. His lover collapsed against
Leslie’s back, sinking him down into the wet, sticky pool beneath
his stomach.

The strong, erratic beat of a heart against
the skin of his back made Leslie smile as he closed his eyes and
let the lethargy of their lovemaking take over. Oliver was heavy
and he couldn’t really breathe, but he felt so good plastered
across Leslie like a second skin. It was only when he realised that
actually, he
couldn’t
breathe, that he
began to panic a bit and gasp.

“Do you mind getting off me so I don’t expire
in the wet spot?”

Oliver grumbled as he unpeeled himself. “I
was comfortable there. Why do you have to make me move?” he whined
as he thudded down next to Leslie, staring up at the ceiling.

Leslie turned onto his side to stare at the
man beside him. “I don’t fancy being carted out of here covered in
come even with a big smile on my face,” he teased. In the intimacy
of the moment, he took a deep breath and reached out to Oliver’s
face. Oliver watched him, eyes vigilant. “Plus I wanted to do this,
please let me,” he whispered as he moved the hair back from
Oliver’s face and shifted up so he could kiss the scar that showed.
Surprisingly, gratifyingly, his lover flinched but didn’t recoil or
push him away. Leslie trailed his lips down the damaged flesh, a
gentle kiss that ended at Oliver’s mouth.

“There,” he said softly. “See, you’re not the
monster you make yourself out to be. You’re stunning, honestly.” He
touched his lips to the scar on Oliver’s arm, kissing from wrist to
shoulder.

Oliver swallowed and stared at Leslie with
eyes that shone wet in the dim light. “Gregori said I was.”

“He said you were what?” Leslie stopped his
tour of Oliver’s arm and snuggled into his side.

“Said I was a monster, because of the way I
looked after the accident.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But he was
pretty mad with me at the time.”

Leslie wanted to kill Gregori Golovin. “How
could he say that to you? And especially when you were hurt?”

“He was an arsehole. A complete and utter
bastard. I just didn’t realise it until it was too late.” Oliver
stared up at the ceiling and Leslie reached over and wrapped an arm
across his chest. His lover’s skin was still sweaty from their
lovemaking and his heart beat erratically beneath Leslie’s
outstretched arm.

“About three weeks before the bike accident,
I found Greg dealing E to some kids.” Oliver’s voice was quiet, but
anguished. “And when I mean kids, I mean twelve,
thirteen-year-olds.”

Leslie’s insides churned. “Hell,” he
whispered. “I suppose as an adult it’s a choice you make to take
drugs. I don’t agree with it but...kids? That’s just
disgusting.”

Oliver nodded in the dim light. “That’s what
I thought. It’s one thing me going off half-cocked and killing
myself slowly with coke, but to deal to children? That was a new
low, even for Greg.” He shifted in bed and Leslie stroked his
matted chest and waited for the story to unfold.

“I threatened to tell the film studio about
it, get him kicked out. I was a bigger star than he was so they
would have done what I asked.” He snorted drily. “It was another
thing that pissed him off about me. That I was more popular.”

“Why the hell did you stay with a man like
that?” Leslie reached up and caressed Oliver’s cheek. “You deserved
better than him.” He snuggled closer into Oliver.

There was silence for a minute. “I loved
him.” Oliver stroked the top of Leslie’s head softly as Leslie’s
heart beat faster at those words. He’d known Oliver had feelings
for Gregori, but hearing him actually voice them hurt a little. “He
was everything to me at the time and I guess I was willing to look
past the cruelty and the bad times. We did have some good times.
Just not that many.”

He sighed heavily. “Anyway, he told me he
wouldn’t do it anymore. I believed him. My first mistake. Then Leo
found him with an eleven-year-old kid who hung around the studio,
selling him baggies of all sorts of stuff. Leo told me. He didn’t
like Gregori at all and he’d have done anything to get him kicked
off the set.” Leslie heard the smile in Oliver’s voice. “He said
the same thing as you. That I was better than Greg and deserved
more.”

“Leo was a clever man,” Leslie murmured as he
moved across Oliver and his lips kissed a soft path down his
chest.

His lover chuckled. “Like you, you mean?
Little brat.” He hitched a breath as Leslie moved lower down his
body. “You’re not helping. How am I supposed to tell you this story
if you keep doing that?”

Leslie waved an airy hand. “Oh, you’ll cope.”
He blew a raspberry on Oliver’s stomach and grinned at his lover’s
surprised exclamation. “I’m doing my bit to ground you here, so lie
back and enjoy it.”

“I’m not so sure about grounding me,” Oliver
murmured. “I look ready to take off.”

Leslie sniggered as he palmed Oliver’s rising
cock, causing him to gasp. “I’ll climb aboard in a little while,
Captain. Go on, tell me the rest.”

He looked up to see Oliver watching him with
an expression that took Leslie’s breath away. It was a look of
longing, of need so intense Leslie wanted to board the aeroplane
right that minute. Instead, he held himself back and sat up,
crossing his legs, sitting Buddha-like at the bottom of the
bed.

“There. No more distractions. Carry on. Tell
me the rest.”

Oliver snorted softly. “
You
are one big distraction.” He reached over to the
side table and took a sip of water. When he put it down, his face
was once again serious.

“I had to tell the studio about it. I didn’t
want to, I knew Greg wouldn’t react well and it would fuck up our
relationship. But I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t about to let him
get away with ruining kids’ lives. Reggie, the owner, didn’t take
it well. He’d lost a brother to drugs so he had a bit of a bug up
his arse about it. He hated us using drugs but he knew he couldn’t
stop it. But when I told him about Greg dealing he went ballistic
and gave him notice. He was kicked off the set and told not to come
back.”

Oliver fell quiet.

After a while Leslie spoke. “Is that when you
two broke up?”

Oliver nodded. “It was the beginning of the
end. I kicked him out of the flat we shared, and he and the twins,
he had these two sycophants that used to hang around him, moved in
together.” His tone was guarded and Leslie wondered what Oliver
wasn’t telling him. “I didn’t want to stay there anymore so I went
to stay with Leo for a few weeks until I found another place.” He
waved a hand around him. “This house. I wanted something outside of
the city centre and this fit the bill.” He gave a twisted smile.
“My principles broke us up, I suppose. And the house certainly came
in useful after the accident. No one really knew about it, so I had
the privacy I wanted.”

Leslie scooted up over him fiercely,
straddling his hips as he looked down. “Your humanity broke you up,
Oliver. And his selfishness and arseholiness.”

Oliver gave a soft snort of amusement. “Is
arseholiness even a word?”

Leslie nodded emphatically. “Oh, definitely.
It’s
my
word.” He laid himself flat on top
of Oliver and took his mouth in a deep kiss. Beneath him, Oliver’s
cock moved and Leslie grinned into the kiss. When he sat up, he ran
his hands down Oliver’s stomach.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain? I have a
feeling this is going to be a short flight.”

Oliver’s husky tone sent a shiver down
Leslie’s spine. “Permission granted.”

Chapter 10

In his persona as Nicky Starr, Oliver had revelled
in the chance to go out on the town, wear the suits he adored and
flirt with anything that moved, male or female. Of course, he’d
never have taken the offers from women wanting to ‘convert him to
the dark side’ seriously. He was far too into guys for that.
However, flirting was a natural tendency with him, no matter what
gender. And you never knew where it might get you. It had defused a
few difficult and sensitive situations. However, looking across at
the darkened face of Katie, sitting opposite him, he didn’t think
flirting with her would work to reduce the ire she currently
sported.

“You are so full of shit,” she snapped. “I
don’t know why the hell you talk such crap about yourself.” Katie
picked up her wine glass and took a gulp. “That man adores you,
anyone can see it. It’s just you who are too bloody minded to let
him in and accept that someone can actually like you.” She slammed
the wine glass down on the restaurant table, slopping the contents
messily onto the tablecloth. It was a quiet lunchtime at Fidalgo’s
and the place was not too busy.

Oliver scowled. “It’s my opinion. I’m allowed
to have one, aren’t I?” He started when she snorted and threw her
napkin at him. It hit his chest then dropped onto his lap. He
picked it up and chucked it onto the table. “Wow, that’s mature.
Next we’ll be having a food fight.”

“Don’t bloody tempt me. I still have some
bourguignon left in my bowl.”

They glared at each other and it was Oliver
who dropped his eyes first. “I just said he can do better,” he
muttered softly.

He’d been seeing Leslie for the entire month
since their dinner. They’d spent time together having satisfyingly
mind-blowing sex, and Oliver had even managed to go to a couple of
movies with Leslie, since they sneaked into the darkened theatre
when the lights were off and generally sat in the back and made
out.

Leslie told him he didn’t mind the scar, or
the fact Oliver’s damaged eye tended to twitch a little when he got
tired. He’d cut Oliver’s hair to what he called ‘a more flattering
style’ and Oliver agreed that while it still covered the damage, it
did look better. He’d tentatively offered to wear concealer over
the scar when they went out. Leslie had just kissed him and told
him that if Oliver wanted to do that for himself, it was fine, but
he didn’t have to do it for him.