Cold Fusion (18 page)

“Well, just picture us,” I whispered. “There was me and Billy McIntyre…”

“The greengrocer’s son?”

“That’s right. Did you know him?”

“No. I told you, my father and Alfred knew all about everyone. Billy had a sister called Jennifer who used to mind the shop while her parents were away.”

“That’s right. And they were away every Tuesday afternoon, so me and Billy had it all planned out. We told Jen we were going up to his room to play videogames, and she’d be so busy with customers that she wouldn’t disturb us. I think we both thought we were gonna take hours.”

“To…”

“To do the sex thing, as you put it.” A rush of remembered mortification warmed my skin. I wouldn’t be telling anyone this, except to prove that first times could be disastrous and people could still survive. “Well, God, I’d only just turned fifteen, and so had he. We’d been watching some bloody awful Internet porn, big muscly lads banging away at each other for hours at a stretch. He got on top of me in his little single bed—all our clothes still on—and that felt so grand to me that I went off bang there and then.” I paused, shaking my head. “Poor Billy. Never even got my pants down. And that drove him so wild he grabbed me and rolled me right off the bed. And don’t we hit the floor with such a crash that Jennifer hears it in the shop below and comes flying upstairs to see if we’ve killed one another. Billy’s too far gone to stop, and he’s got me pinned down, squirting like a wee fire hose, even while she’s trying to open the door.”

“Oh, dear. What happened?”

Viv was a hell of an audience. He was wide-eyed, taking in every syllable as if my sorry tale had been a lost play by Shakespeare. “He rolls off me at the last second. Jenny bursts into the room, and we both have to pretend he’s lost one of his contact lenses under the bed.”

Well, I owed him a laugh after my reaction to the Higgs boson incident. He tried his best to hold it back, but his mouth twitched deliciously, making me want to kiss him still more, and he lowered his head onto my shoulder, shaking with giggles. “Oh, no. That was a terrible first time.”

“So you can see why I’d have to lose points. The worst of it was, we were both so disappointed. We both thought our cocks would come springing right back up—blame the porn for that too—and when they didn’t, we took that as a verdict that we didn’t really fancy each other after all. I went home in dudgeon, and twenty minutes later I could’ve done it all over again. But I could see from my bedroom window that his dad’s car was back on the kerb, so that was a complete bust.”

Viv caught his breath. His tear-bright gaze sought mine, full of questions. “Is that what happens?”

“What—Dad coming home at the wrong time? Aye, it bloody does.”

“No. Wanting to do it again so soon after.”

“Oh.” I was going to have to be so careful with him. He was beautiful, and it would be such a waste to the world if I said or did anything to put him on the wrong track. Not that I could see him out in the Edinburgh nightclubs, making up for lost time. In fact the thought of him in any other man’s arms sent a weird pang through me. “There’s no rule. It varies from guy to guy. Sometimes it can knock you right into a coma…” I cringed, trying not to think of my last round with Alan Frost. “And sometimes you’ll be up and raring to go again almost straightaway. So don’t tie yourself into knots over it. And don’t let anybody ever judge you.”

“The first person I’ll have to ask not to judge me is you.”

“Why?”

“Because your terrible story’s given me an erection.”

I bit back a gasp. I tried not to let him see the surge of excitement and pleasure that had hit me. I’d been far from certain that he’d function for me, that a concrete guy in the hand could do it for him like a scientific abstract in the bush. I slid an investigative touch down his belly and into his lap, not breaking eye contact, watching for signs of displeasure. But his pupils dilated as I rubbed my palm over the bulge in his jeans.

“What next?” he rasped softly, rising up a little to find my touch. “What do we do next?”

Couldn’t he follow his body’s prompting and find out? Maybe not. Maybe that would mean letting go, and he was still clutching my fingers, the heat coming off him at least as much fear as arousal.

“Kiss me,” I told him, giving the example with a shy, sweeping brush of my mouth to his. “It’s okay.”

Finally he let go his death grip on my hand. He took hold of my face, very gently, but as if he were manoeuvring a tricky bit of equipment into place. “Now what?”

He looked so serious. It was killing me not to smile. “Just plant one on me, handsome. Right here.”

He leaned in. His lips met mine, and the world stopped for me. I lost the sense of air in my lungs. The gale’s roar and the whisper of the fire suspended themselves. I hung in a starry silence, pulsating with pleasure down to the marrow of my bones.

It all lasted maybe three seconds. Then he jerked back, dumping me into reality. “Like that?”

I nodded. I could barely speak. “Yes, exactly like that. Only longer. And you don’t have to immobilise me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

His hold became a caress, fingertips probing the sensitive angle of my jaw. I didn’t mean to open up for him—scary enough to be on a maiden voyage without getting eaten alive or frenched—but I kept my tongue to myself, and he responded with a little moan, pushing against my mouth. This time the stars and the universal hush went on for long enough that I forgot Alan Frost, forgot Morag and Billy and my other three conquests, as completely as if Vivian’s virginity had been catching and this was my first time too. At length I eased him back because my spine was melting and my cock had throbbed and ached its way to full combat readiness.

“Oh, Viv…”

“Was that better? Am I a good kisser?”

“Can’t really tell from a sample of two,” I whispered. He frowned and moved in again, but I planted a hand on his chest. “Whoa up, tiger. I’m teasing. You’re a fantastic kisser—look what you’ve done to me.”

He obeyed and edged away from me. “Oh. Sorry.”

“What for? It’s not gonna break.” I took in his nonplussed expression, and I had an idea. If he’d never had the chance to handle anybody, grapple about in back streets and boatyards like I had, how was he to know what bodies did? As I’d discovered for myself ten years ago, a classroom theory of biology wasn’t much help. And being who he was, he’d need to control the proceedings. “Touch me, Viv. Do whatever you want. I promise I won’t lay a hand on you unless you tell me it’s okay.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be clumsy and do something wrong.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret. You
are
a fantastic kisser, yes. But it’s not your technique that’s done this to me. It’s the fact that it’s you. So you can grab me, roll me around, do whatever you like. And even if you’re awkward, I pretty much guarantee I’m gonna find it exciting.”

“Because it’s me?”

He was having a really hard time taking this in, so I risked a peck to his pale cheek—making sure he had time to see me coming—and whispered the assurance in his ear. “Yes. Because it’s you. You’re so lovely. Do what you like.”

“I don’t know where to start touching.”

“You could try the obvious.”

He drew back the elastic of my orange thermals. His fingers were chilly and I gasped, the skin of my stomach twitching. I arched my back in pleasure as he slipped his hand inside. I was so hard and erect that he couldn’t go far wrong now. His knuckles brushed my shaft, and I gently restrained his recoil. “No. Don’t take your hand away.”

“Is that what you like?”

“Oh God, yes.”

“Will I do it right, though?” He shivered and flashed me a small, unhappy glance. “I don’t think I’m any good at this. I think I might’ve missed out on it all these years for a reason. You’d better let me go.”

I did, straightaway, as I’d promised. Letting him call the shots was one thing, but he was working in the dark. The stove was burning nicely, belting out heat into the room. “I tell you what. Let me go and fetch the sleeping bag from next door.”

“Are you cold?”

“Not much chance of that around you. I want to lay it down by the hearth, and lay you down on top of it. Then—this once—I want to show you what to do. Then you’ll be all genned up for next time, and it won’t be such a big deal.”

He let go of the elastic at my waist and appeared not to notice my wince when it snapped back into place. “All right,” he said thoughtfully. “And I won’t be a virgin after that, will I?”

I hesitated. I didn’t think the whole object of this exercise for him was the popping of his cherry, something to cross off his list of things to do, but he was unpredictable.

“It depends,” I said. “How do you define a virgin? Because I don’t have any condoms with me, and we need to have a serious talk before we go down that route without them, tempting as you are.”

“Oh. You mean penetrative sex?”

“I do. If that’s the only
real
kind, from your perspective—”

“No.” He swallowed hard. “They used to say that at school. Anything could happen to you—getting beaten, getting caught in the locker rooms and stripped—but as long as they didn’t bugger you, it didn’t count.”

Christ. The young princes of the nation were just as bloody bad as the paupers. “Did any of that stuff happen to you?”

“No. I put them off somehow. They called me the Ice Man. I don’t want to be that way anymore, and my definition of a virgin is someone who’s never had sex of any sort with another human being. Any kind of sex with you would be real. Any kind at all.”

He was ice with a core of pure fire, melting like glaciers in spring. His eyes were full of tears—meltwater, maybe, making my heart ache and burn.

“I can help you out, then,” I said hoarsely. “We can break your duck for you.”

“What happens next?”

“I’ll go and get that sleeping bag.”

He took hold of my shoulders and bestowed on me another of those shattering kisses. “I’ll get it. Least I can do.”

* * * * *

I knelt beside him in the flickering light. I’d opened the stove door to counteract the draughts and keep him warm. I tussled with a growing sense of unreality. Here was this entrancing guy laid out in front of me, the man who’d knocked me for six since the moment I’d clapped eyes on him, and despite all my promises, I scarcely knew what to do with him. He’d spread out the sleeping bag by the hearth, and lain down on it as if preparing for a medical exam or a session on a psychiatric couch. He was fully dressed, his hands folded over his stomach.

“Viv,” I said uncertainly. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Only…I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“You’re not the only one.” I looked him over. He’d lost his nascent hard-on, and if he’d got the hang of the kissing thing, I wondered if that might be the limit of his desires. “You sure you want to go ahead with this?”

“Yes. But I don’t understand how to go from the way I feel now to the way I felt…”

I couldn’t help myself. “About the Higgs boson?”

A tremor of laughter shook his ribs. “I suppose so, yes.”

“Are you warm enough?”

“I think so.” His gaze became abstracted as he listened to the sobbing howl of the wind. “I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy outside on a night like this. We’re fortunate.”

“Yes, we are. I was asking because…usually some clothes get taken off during procedures like these.” I remembered what I’d said to him about rules. “Not always, though. Not if you’re not happy.”

“It’s not that.” He sat up with a sinuous grace that made my hands yearn for him. “It’s just that I’m not like you.”

“I’m no
Vogue
model.”

“No, but you’re well put together and strong.” He sketched out a shape in the air which surely flattered me. “In proportion.”

“I’m sure you are too.” I laid a hand on his knee. “Come on, handsome. Don’t be shy of me. Let’s have a look.”

He peeled off his jumper and orange thermal top, still moving as if he expected me to pull out a stethoscope. And my first reaction was closer to medical than sexual—God, he was skinny, each rib clearly delineated under his fine skin. He didn’t look as if he was meant to be that way. His shoulders were broad, his structure generous.

“I told you,” he said flatly, misreading my silence. “I’m not nice. I’m an upended xylophone walking around.”

“Are you kidding? They’d give a fortune for you on the catwalks of Paris.” I ran a palm down his breastbone, and when he didn’t object to that, turned the touch to a caress. “Still, I’d like to feed you up a bit. Aunt Lil used to shoot the occasional huge, fat rabbit out in the garden. If I can find her rifle and bag you one, would you eat it?”

“Not raw, no.”

“Course not, you nutter. Skinned and served up in a nice rabbit stew. Have you always been this thin?”

“No. I find it hard to keep weight on lately. Mallory, when you stroke me there, it makes the erectile tissue around my nipples ruck up.”

He was skilled at derailing me. My concerns blew off on the next blast of the gale. “So it does. Mine are doing the same just at the sight of you.”

“I don’t see why I should take your word on that.”

I sat back on my heels and pulled my T-shirt over my head. His attention settled on me like a warm velvet grappling hook. My nipples, proof of the pudding if he needed it, had contracted to taut nubs, to say nothing of the effect he was having on the rest of my erectile tissue. “There. All right?”

“Yes,” he said softly, then added on a note of yearning, “I wish I were like you.”

“Why? A shilling a dozen round the dockyards, we are.”

“Not so nicely constructed. I wish I looked warm like you. I wish I had that kind of golden-brown fur—one shade darker than the hair on your head—across my chest like wings, then in a line down my middle and…” He put out a fingertip and traced it to my waistband, breaking an explicit groan of need from me. “And all the way down?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to take my word for that either.”

“Give me a minute.”

“All night if you want.”
You’re killing me. Any second I’m gonna crack and jump your bones
. Did he find me attractive, or was I nothing more than an image from a different kind of life he might like to have led?