Handle With Care (11 page)

“Ben! That’s— I’ve never— Fuck! Ben!”

I’d never seen anything so hot. Not in all those DVDs and Internet porn sites I’d visited. Because this was Ollie, and he was moaning my name, and he still wanted me, despite me being broken.

I gave his balls a final grope and moved my hands around to knead his buttocks, hoping I hadn’t lost the knack of deep-throating through lack of practise. There was resistance in his hips when I tried to pull him in.

“Not gonna hurt you,” Ollie said.

I couldn’t exactly reply, but I tried to convey how much I wanted this with my eyes as I pushed forward until my nose hit his pubes and I could no longer breathe. God knows why that felt so good, that eye-watering, choking fullness, but it always did for me. There was power in taking another man that deep inside, in knowing I was capable of giving him such pleasure. And with Ollie, it was even better, feeling his thighs start to shake and hearing his incoherent pleas.

I pulled back to take a breath, then plunged down again, and this time, his hips twitched, and his fingers convulsed on my scalp, as if he was fighting the urge to thrust into me. I looked up to find an exquisite agony twisting his face.

He opened his eyes and stared, perhaps shocked, as I swallowed around him.

“Ben, I’m gonna— Can’t stop!”

I didn’t want him to. I took one more breath and pulled him deep again, giving him everything I could with throat and tongue. He inspired me, and I wanted to see him lose it.

My finger sliding down his arse crack was what did it. I felt the trembling build, and then he froze, a look of sheer ecstasy transforming him as his balls emptied down my throat. I swallowed greedily, enjoying the sensation of his cock pulsing with every spurt, but then pulled back to breathe and to taste. To savour his pleasure to the very last drop. I sucked him dry as he softened and whimpered, his body thrilling with the aftershocks.

He collapsed slowly, considerately, shifting back so he was sitting almost on my knees and resting his sweaty forehead against mine. I could feel the gelled 92

spikes of his hair pricking against my skin, and I smiled. My jaw might ache like buggery, but at least it took my mind off the pain in my guts.

“Wow!” Ollie said, as if it explained everything. Perhaps it did.

I kissed his nose.

“Best. Blowjob. Ever,” he said emphatically.

I grinned. “You know I’m going to have to write that down on my diet sheet now. What food group do you think I should count it as? Or is spunk a drink?”

Ollie giggled and sat up, balancing on his haunches. “I reckon it’s a condiment. Put it down as Ollie’s Special Sauce.” His smile was teasing, but there was something oh-so-tender about his eyes. I couldn’t bear looking in them as they made me feel strange inside. All light-headed and short of breath. Although that could simply have been the after-effects of my exertion.

“Can I do anything for you?” Ollie asked softly, looking down at my crotch where the outline of my dick was clearly visible through the fabric of my trackie bottoms.

I realised with amazement that I was half-hard. I also realised that I really didn’t want to come. Not with my belly still healing up. The convulsions of orgasm would be hell on my damaged tissues.

“No, I’m good,” I said. Ollie looked doubtful. “
I’m good!
And anyway, the doctor said no sex for a month.”

“A month! That’s like,
forever
!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his crestfallen expression. “Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of blowjobs and handjobs for you. I could do with the practise.

I’m a bit rusty.”

“That was rusty? Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah, I can do much better than that. You just wait.” He’d have to wait until at least tomorrow, I thought, rubbing my jaw surreptitiously.

His forehead creased. “So, I’d be doing you a favour, right? Helping you brush up on your skills.”

“That’s it.”

His sunny grin was back. “In that case, I think we’d better create a new column on your diet sheet.”

I kissed him softly, smiling against his mouth.

94

It was amazing how different my flat felt without the boxes of dialysate everywhere. The rooms seemed lighter, brighter. Or maybe that was just the effect of having Ollie around. He made sure the blinds and curtains were all fully open and switched on all my halogen spotlights whenever a cloud hid the sun. I grumbled about the electricity bill, but secretly I was glad to have him do it as it meant I had an even better view of him as he fussed over me.

Who am I trying to fool? It was brighter because his smile could outshine all the halogen lamps in the world. It was my own personal sun, and I basked in its warmth. All I wanted was to make him happy so I’d see it all the time.

I’d been home for a couple of days when I realised Ollie’s café plans had hit a major obstacle. We’d spent the morning going through a long list of projected setup expenses and regular expenses for the first financial year, along with his savings and projected income, and I’d input it all onto a spreadsheet for him.

Strictly speaking, I wasn’t meant to be working, and James had given me a week off, with a plan to ease back into work gradually after that. But helping Ollie out didn’t count as real work, did it? Not when it was so much fun seeing his eager anticipation and hearing all his plans.

Until I entered in the last formula and saw the shortfall in funds.

“Shit. Does that minus mean what I think it does?”

I nodded, and Ollie whistled through the gap in his teeth.

“So I’ve got to find another three grand from somewhere?”

In the larger scheme of things, it was a paltry sum, but to a twenty-year-old who worked as a barista and drove a rusty Fiat Panda, it must have seemed a king’s ransom.

I put the laptop on the coffee table and pulled Ollie onto my lap instead. He curled into me, and I could see his mind working away from the frown on his face.

“There’s only one thing for it. I’m gonna have to get another job,” he announced.

“Better make it something that pays well and doesn’t take up too much of your time. I’m getting kind of attached to having you hanging around the place.”

“Stripper, maybe?” Ollie smirked at me. “Or an escort? I hear they do quite well for themselves.”

“You’d have to put out for middle-aged businessmen, you know.”

“Good thing I’ve got a kink for them, then,” Ollie said, kissing my jaw.

“I am not middle-aged! Jesus, you whippersnappers. You think anyone over thirty’s had it, don’t you?” I paused a moment. “Not that I’ve had any just lately, more’s the pity.”

Ollie kissed me some more, effectively quashing my protests. I explored his mouth in a leisurely fashion, savouring the taste of him and loving the small noises of pleasure that escaped his throat. I was such a goner.

When I pulled back for air, I knew exactly what I needed to do.

“Young man, I’ve succumbed to your fiendish powers of persuasion, and I’d like to invest three thousand pounds in your business. Especially if it keeps you off the game,” I added.

“What, you mean…You’d do that? For me?” Ollie’s eyes shone, but his face remained serious.

“I think it’s a good investment, and I’ve got the money, so why not?”

96

“Yes! You are a fucking superhero!” Ollie’s arms squeezed me tight, and I couldn’t help hissing as he put pressure against my belly. “Sorry,” he said, easing off. “I keep forgetting.”

“It’s okay.” I kissed him again to show him it really was.

“You know you’ll get it back, don’t you? With interest.”

“I certainly hope so.” Although to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have cared even if I never saw that money again. It was worth every penny to see the hope dancing in Ollie’s eyes.

“Is there anything I can do to say thank you?” Ollie asked, and by the way his eyes drifted down to my crotch, I knew what he was contemplating.

“Not yet,” I said, catching his hand as it made its way to my groin.

Ollie pouted a little, but he seemed to know better than to push past the boundaries I’d set.

“Tell you what, though, I’d love another taste of your special sauce. We could make it a celebratory one. I’ll get you to go off like a bottle of bubbly.”

Ollie sniggered. “So long as you don’t try and stick a cork in there.”

“Agreed, no corks. But I still want to see if you can hit the ceiling.”

We were both chuckling as we kissed again, this time with rising passion. I felt a twinge of apprehension as I wondered what Zoe would have to say about this loan plan, but it faded away as I lost myself in exploring Ollie’s mouth.

My first week at home had been a period of gradual adjustment to my new way of living, now that the tyranny of dialysis no longer ruled my life. Ollie spent as much time as he could around my place without officially moving in but was often out meeting possible suppliers for his café and investigating cheap sources of furniture and equipment. I was impressed by how quickly he’d grasped the basics of the financial plan I’d helped create, understanding the need to eke out my loan by economising. He’d been scouring eBay and the local free-ads for bargains.

One thing I insisted on was that Ollie went back home at night. It was easy to use the excuse of needing a good night’s sleep while my body was healing, so I didn’t have to admit how the idea of him staying over made me uneasy. Not only were there Zoe’s feelings to consider—and I knew she was having difficulty dealing with me having a relationship, although she seemed to be making a real effort to befriend Ollie—but I was worried that if I grew too dependent on him being there, it would come back and bite me in the arse one day.

But while my nights were cold and lonely, my days were almost too busy.

After that first week, I had started back on my own work again, picking up on the Dane Gibson Associates account I’d been handed before my transplant. I managed to fit in a fair bit of work around the daily hospital visits to check my blood creatinine levels, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate when Ollie was in the flat. Even when he was in a different room, working on his own project, I kept finding excuses to go and see him. Visits that would often end with him panting and sweaty, and me with a mouthful of something that definitely wasn’t on the list of approved food and drink. My jaw muscles were getting such a workout, perhaps I really would end up looking like the lantern-jawed Cyber-Ben from Ollie’s drawings.

I was pondering this as I slouched on the sofa one evening, waiting for Ollie to return from one of his missions to get hold of some arcane piece of catering equipment. I had strewn the illustrations all over the coffee table in order to study them. Not in the way I would once have done, before the surgery and drugs had demolished what was left of my libido. No, I was studying them to try and understand Ollie. I needed to know what he expected of me—of this 98

relationship—because I was frightened of messing it all up. Unfortunately, the illustrations all showed the Ollie character either taking orders from the über-macho hero, or performing all manner of sexual favours for him. Sometimes both at once. I didn’t think I could be that man for him. I didn’t know if I even wanted to be. Was he still going to be willing to stick around when he discovered I wasn’t the dominant hero he was hoping for?

There was a sound of a key in the door, and I didn’t make an effort to get up.

The half hour I’d spent cleaning the kitchen earlier had wiped me out.

Then I heard Zoe’s voice.

“Hey, Benj, I found this stray hanging around the kitchens begging for scraps and thought you might like to adopt hi— Oooh, what’s all this? Are these your drawings, Oll?”

I leapt up like someone had fitted my arse with springs, then doubled over with pain as my injured tissues protested.

“No,” I managed to force out through panting breaths. “Don’t look.”

But I was too late, as Zoe had already picked one up. I couldn’t see which it was, so I concentrated on getting the rest back into the folder.

“Hey, Ollie, these are great. Filthy but great.”

I looked up, worried Ollie would be pissed off that I’d left them out on display. Little bugger had a smug grin, though.

Zoe looked up from the picture with dimpled cheeks. “If this is meant to be Ben, I think you’ve seriously overestimated the size of his willy.”

“Hey!” I protested. Okay, so I agreed with her, but I still didn’t need to hear that. “When’s the last time you saw it, anyway?”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Ben, we were living in the same house for like, years, and you
never
locked the bathroom door.”

“I wasn’t allowed to. In case I collapsed,” I explained for Ollie’s benefit. Since Social Services had been iffy about letting a teenager with diabetes take on the role of guardian, I’d had to adhere to a set of best-practise guidelines that would have made a Health and Safety inspector weep with joy.

“Can I have that back now, please?” I asked, grabbing for the paper in Zoe’s hands. She let go with reluctance, then turned to Ollie.

“Could you give me and Ben a couple of minutes, hon? Make us some tea or something?”

Ollie made himself scarce, leaving me staring at Zoe with trepidation. She had her serious face on, and I wondered if I was in for a lecture on corrupting innocent young men into creating porn.

“You two seem to be getting on better these days,” I said. “Have you decided the age gap isn’t such a problem now?”

Zoe sighed. “He’s a nice guy, Benj, but I’m worried you’re taking things too fast. What’s this I hear about you lending him money?”

“That’s an investment!”

“That’s what he said. But don’t you think it’s all a bit of a coincidence? I mean, with him being so young and so all over you, even though you’re ill…”

She trailed off as I glared at her.

“What are you trying to say?”

She folded her arms and set her jaw. “I just don’t want you being taken advantage of by a gold-digger, that’s all.”

“I don’t believe it! Do you seriously think—” I was too angry to frame a coherent sentence.