Men of London 03 - Suit Yourself (23 page)

He could tell Oliver really liked that idea
by the way his cock jumped under Leslie’s backside. In their
previous sex life, Leslie preferred being the passenger, as he
called it, but tonight—tonight he just need to make Oliver his.
Then, he hoped everything would be all right and he’d have his
boyfriend back.

* * *

Seeing Leslie’s hopeful face, Oliver knew he
was a lucky man—lucky enough to have him back and to have been
given this second chance. He desperately didn’t want to mess it
up.

“This time we are doing this in the bedroom,”
Leslie muttered as he propelled him toward his room. “I want a soft
bed, mood lighting and ambience for this session.”

Oliver snorted in laughter as Leslie pushed
him inside and onto the bed. “I’m okay with that. My couch and that
damn kitchen counter have never seen so much action.”

He thought he and Leslie had probably
christened every surface in the house, including the dining room
table and the gym bench he used. That had been quite a notable
event, including handcuffs and a lot of body contortions.

Leslie crawled on top of him and straddled
his hips. He ground his backside against Oliver’s groin as he
smiled down at him and ran his fingers across his chest. His
nipples hardened in response and his butt cheeks clenched as he
anticipated Leslie between them.

Oliver groaned softly. “You’re asking for
trouble doing that,” he whispered huskily. “I might fuck you before
you get a chance to do me. So be careful what you wish for.”

Leslie wiggled and puffed a soft breath on
Oliver’s face, making his nose twitch. “Just do as you’re told,” he
warned, with a mock glower. Oliver thought his lover had never
looked more bewitching and sexy than perched above him, blue eyes
staring at him with avarice and need.

Immersed in a rush of love, Oliver felt
warmth flush his veins and flesh with the knowledge this man was
still his. He lost his breath and the room tilted in a strange
kaleidoscope of colour. Reaching up, he pulled Leslie fiercely down
on top of him, arms closing around his slim body in a loving
vise.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he managed in a
choked voice. “You mean the world to me, and I’m sorry I hurt you.
I love you so much.”

Leslie’s mouth tickled his neck as he lay
supine. “I know,” he whispered. His tongue licked a sweet trail
down the skin of Oliver’s throat. “Now let me take care of
you.”

He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head
and his smooth, lithe body was revealed, a sublime being, all
planes, grooves and beauty. The front of his jeans jutted out with
the rigid cock hidden inside and he smiled slyly as he began to
unbutton his jeans teasingly.

“You want me inside you, Oliver? Deep inside,
touching you, coming in you?” He licked his lips lasciviously and
Oliver’s groin burned with the fire of a thousand flames. Leslie
stood up in one fluid movement and took off his jeans. Oliver
gasped in awe at the sight of him in an emerald green thong, cock
bulging against the silky material. Leslie turned around and
presented his tight backside to Oliver. Two beautifully rounded and
flawless cheeks bisected by a string that led to where Oliver
wanted to be right now. Leslie waggled his arse at him.

“My turn with yours first. Then you can have
this one.”

Oliver couldn’t speak. He watched as his
lover slid the thong off his arse, down his legs then turned and
knelt back down across him.

“Now to get rid of these,” he murmured as he
motioned for Oliver to lift his bottom and pulled the joggers off.
Oliver’s cock sprung up, wet, hot and aching, and Leslie’s eyes
dilated at the sight.

“God, I missed that,” he whispered, then
proceeded to wrap his mouth around the soft, velvety, swollen skin
of it so tightly Oliver’s hips left the bed and he cried out with
the pleasure of it.

Leslie’s hot, wet mouth circled, licked,
sucked and teased, his hands resting on Oliver’s thighs as he took
him to a place in his head and body he’d not thought he’d find
again. His hands clenched at the bed sheets, his legs shivered with
the sensations running through his body and his vision ebbed and
flowed as his lover gave him the blow job to surpass all others. He
heard his own panting, his entreaties to Leslie to keep going, his
garbled expletives and sobs as he spurred his boyfriend on.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain,
Oliver acknowledged this lust was caused by his celibacy since
Leslie had been gone, having only his right hand and a vibrator to
release the pent-up frustration he’d felt. The other sensation, one
of being where he was supposed to be, in Leslie’s mouth, his arms,
his life, was the one trumping the horniness. It just felt so
right.

He shuddered as he climaxed, his loud cry of
satisfaction echoing in the bedroom as he shot his load into
Leslie’s waiting and greedy mouth, the rush seeming never to end.
He was drained, sated, and as Leslie crept up his body to find his
lips and kiss him with a hunger that promised even more, Oliver
tasted himself, and the residue of his own fluids in Leslie’s
mouth.

“Lift your legs up, honey,” Leslie murmured.
“I need in you so badly.”

He did as he was told and gasped when fingers
breached him, already sticky with lube—
and when
had Leslie done that?
Probably when he’d been passed out
with the force of his orgasm. Oliver pushed his hole up to those
questing fingers, desperate to impale himself deeper.

Leslie chuckled. “Easy, you greedy bugger.
Let me do this properly.”

Oliver closed his eyes and relished the
fullness in his arse. Then he heard the rip of a foil packet.

“Leslie,” he groaned, “Do we need a condom? I
want to feel you inside me just as you are. You know my test
results already. And I haven’t been with anyone else since you
left.”

He and Leslie had already shared their
results with each other before the breakup. They’d been debating
whether to lose the condoms at that stage.

Leslie stilled. “I haven’t either, but are
you sure?”

Oliver traced Leslie’s cheek tenderly. “Yes,
love. I’m sure. I want this.”

Leslie’s smile lit up Oliver’s world and as
he pushed inside, their eyes met and Oliver was lost. The heat of
Leslie’s cock in his arse, the feeling of being taken, possessed so
completely by him threatened to undo him.

Leslie’s sighs and whispered endearments as
he made love to Oliver and owned his body were the perfect
soundtrack to what Oliver was feeling. It was their own personal
romance film, the culmination of years of loneliness, insecurity
and pain being transformed by the love of one man, a man who truly
wanted him. Oliver smiled up at Leslie as the movie played out to
its picture-perfect ending. There may still be a few trials ahead,
but with Leslie by his side, he’d face them. The alternative wasn’t
an option.

When he felt the warmth of Leslie’s semen
inside him, the multiple ‘
Love yous,
’ he
sighed as he climaxed, and with the feel of skin against his as his
lover collapsed on top of him, Oliver finally felt at peace.

They lay together afterward, half dozing,
Leslie curled into Oliver’s arms, head on his shoulder.

“So…” Oliver had been dying to ask but hadn’t
wanted to disturb their post-coital bliss until then. “How the hell
did you manage to throw piss at Greg?”

Leslie giggled and Oliver was enchanted. “I
didn’t know it was pee,” he retorted. “I thought it was wine
someone had left on the step.” He shrugged. “Turned out I was
wrong.”

Oliver spluttered with laughter. “God, he
must have been mad.” He stroked his lover’s arm idly. “Still,
things could have gotten nasty. That night of the fashion show, he
threatened to hurt you if I hit him. I had to back off because that
so
wasn’t happening.”

“He was pretty drunk and drugged up, so not
much of a threat.” Leslie threw his leg over Oliver’s as he got
comfy. “And I know some karate, too. I’m not just a pretty face.”
He huffed indignantly and Oliver wanted to kiss him senseless for
being so damned cute.

Leslie carried on. “Plus he was spilling the
beans about what he’d said to you that night and I just had this
feeling, I knew why you did what you did….”

Oliver kissed his dark head. “Thank God you
had that feeling. Or we might not be here now.” He hesitated. “I
was going to call you again, I was going out of my mind, but I
wanted to give you space.”

“I suppose you could say Gregori Golovin did
us a favour then,” Leslie said sleepily, His eyes were half shut,
lashes dark against his pale cheeks.

Oliver grinned happily in the darkness. “Yes,
I think we can safely say for once in his miserable life, he did
something right. I’m going to make sure I keep you by my side,
Leslie Tiberius Scott. Right where you belong.”

Soft lips brushed his side. “I like the sound
of that. Now can we go to sleep please?” his boyfriend grumbled,
giving him the stink eye. “I’m tuckered out and I need my beauty
sleep.” He frowned. “Although I have this feeling I should have
done something and I haven’t…”

“You couldn’t be more beautiful,” Oliver
murmured softly as Leslie smiled at those words and closed his eyes
again. “And whatever it is, it’ll come to you. It couldn’t have
been that important. Sweet dreams.”

Sleep wasn’t long in claiming Oliver, and as
he sank into the welcoming darkness, he wrapped the man in his arms
in a protective embrace and gave thanks to the universe for
bringing him back.

* * *

In the middle of the night, rousing when
Oliver’s arm knocked him in the nose as he turned over, Leslie
awoke with a start and the little thing that had been in the back
of his mind niggling him as he’d fallen asleep came to the surface.
“Shit. I forgot to text Eddie and tell him I got here safely. Hell,
he’s going to be pissed off.”

He looked over at his sleeping lover, taking
care not to wake him as he reached over to the bedside table and
picked up his phone which lay charging. It read 3.12 am. He groaned
softly.

“Four missed calls and half a dozen texts.
Crap.” He scrolled down, angling the phone away so the light didn’t
disturb Oliver and read the texts. It looked like Taylor and Eddie
had worked in tandem in giving him hell.

Eddie: 11.30 pm.
You didn’t
text. Did you get to Oliver’s okay?

Eddie: 00.30 am.
You little
shit. Where are you?

Taylor: 00.34 am.
Eddie
called. Are you okay? Text me.

Taylor: 00.45 am.
Not
talking to me? Call, me for God’s sake. I’m worried.

Eddie: 01.00 am.
You are in
so much trouble, mister.

Leslie winced when he read that one.

Taylor: 01.20 am.
Eddie’s
mad. Me too. Just hope you’re okay. Text me ASAP!

Eddie had called twice; Taylor, too. He
didn’t listen to the voicemail messages. He knew they’d simply be
cursing at him for scaring them.

Leslie sighed and texted back, including them
both in his message.

I’m fine, so sorry, my bad.
I’m at Oliver’s. Please don’t be too mad with me. I forgot ’cos I
was BBDIMBF xxoo

He sniggered as he hit Send. Let them figure
that one out. He laid his phone down and pulled the duvet back up.
He was only just starting to get comfortable when his phone
vibrated crazily. He reached over and picked it up. The
Taylor/Eddie conversation was highlighted.

Taylor:
Glad you’re okay.
You’re still in trouble though. All cool with you and
Oliver?

Eddie:
Little bastard. Glad
you two made up. About time he got his bloody head on
straight.

Leslie laughed softly. He knew his two
friends would still have plenty to say to Oliver when they saw him
next about what a prat he’d been for hurting Leslie. He might have
to play mediator and make sure his lover wasn’t tarred and
feathered.

Taylor:
So you were buried
balls-deep in the boyfriend, huh? High-five.
There was a
picture of a hotdog in a bun attached to the message which Leslie
giggled at. He did scowl though. Trust Taylor to have figured that
one out.

Eddie:
LOL like that one.
I’ll have to use it on Gideon

Taylor:
btw the video you
put on YouTube of us singing ABBA songs? You are so
dead.

Leslie laughed loudly then glanced guiltily
over at Oliver. He started when he saw that his boyfriend’s eyes
were open and Oliver was watching him with a lazy smile.

“Sorry I woke you up,” Leslie murmured. “It’s
the guys, they were worried about me. I forgot to text them.”

“Do you mind if I see? I’d like to tell them
something if I may?” Oliver held out his hand and Leslie passed him
the phone. Oliver read through the messages and chuckled when he’d
finished.

“They are good guys, aren’t they?”

“The best,” Leslie agreed.

He watched, a little confused as Oliver
texted something, something quite long- winded, then hit Send, gave
him back his phone and lay back with a grin.

Leslie read the last outgoing message.

Thanks for looking out for
him, guys. You can beat me up when you see me, I’m ready for you.
I’m glad he has friends like you. The Three Houseketeers are now
all formally spoken for He’s mine now and I promise I’ll take care
of his heart. I love him. Now if you don’t mind, I’m about to be
BBDIMBF. Oh and I loved the drunken Dancing Queens. Night
chaps

Leslie’s chest beat faster as Oliver reached
for him, definite intent on his face and he allowed himself to be
drawn down into his boyfriend’s loving and passionate embrace. The
phone vibrated again but this time, Leslie didn’t even bother. He
had more important things on his mind.