Imperfect Harmony (15 page)

She chuckled. “Oh, John, you’re allowed to be happy. Enjoy it. And I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business, but you two aren’t exactly subtle. Anyone who knows you can see you’re soft on him, and the way he looks at you when you’re not watching…. Well, it’s obvious it’s mutual.”

Even though John was so hot he felt like he was combusting, he couldn’t keep the smile off his flushed face as he pulled out of the parking space. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

They sat in silence for a little while as John drove through the streets. His mind was ticking over, and a question that had been nagging at the back of his consciousness ever since this thing with Rhys started pushed its way to the forefront. As he stopped at some traffic lights, he said, “Don’t you think I’m too old for him? I mean… even if he does like me for now, I don’t think it can last.”

Until he said the words, he hadn’t realised this was something he wanted to last. He’d been enjoying it for what it was: a sexual reawakening, another part of his healing process. But he loved spending time with Rhys. They had things in common beyond the physical. Rhys made him feel happy and whole again. The thought of losing that if Rhys moved on made his chest ache.

“Peter was fifteen years older than me. Age doesn’t matter if you love someone. People say it’s just a number, and it’s true. It’s who you are on the inside that counts.”

Her words didn’t make John feel any better, though. He knew Maggie had been widowed in her fifties. That was a new drawback to the age gap that he hadn’t even considered. It seemed selfish of him to want to tie Rhys down in a relationship where the likely outcome was bereavement.

John kept those thoughts to himself because they were too depressing to articulate. He was jumping the gun by thinking long-term, anyway. It was early days. Although it was obvious Rhys liked him, it might be just a fleeting thing. Maybe John was a stepping stone for Rhys, allowing him to heal and move on from his past. He wanted Rhys to find happiness, but the idea that it might be with someone other than himself wasn’t a pleasant one.

He changed the subject, trying to shake off the mood of gloom and doom that had settled like a cold weight on his shoulders. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?”

Maggie took the change of topic and ran with it, distracting John by telling him about her son and daughter-in-law who were visiting from Manchester on Saturday night.

By the time John pulled up outside his house, he’d managed to push his anxieties away—for now, at least.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On Friday night, John arrived first—exactly on time. He had arranged to meet Rhys in a local pub that had a nice atmosphere and decent food. Rhys had booked the table, so John gave his name and was led to a table for two in the middle of the main seating area. Candles were burning on the tables, giving it an intimate feel, and there were several couples there along with a few other larger groups of people.

John caught sight of a receptionist he knew from one of the schools he worked in. She smiled and nodded at him before turning her attention back to the man she was with.

Feeling a little awkward on his own, John picked up the menu. It was hard to concentrate because he was busy freaking out about being on a date and whether he looked too formal, and what if Rhys was late, or worse still, didn’t show?

He started to sweat and wished he hadn’t worn a T-shirt under the shirt he’d picked out.

Staring at the menu and trying to breathe slowly, John saw Rhys’s feet first. Bright green Converse with rainbow laces. His gaze rose up blue skinny jeans with holes at the knees to one of Rhys’s graphic T-shirts showing beneath a battered old black leather jacket. John decided he’d definitely dressed too smartly, but when he saw the smile on Rhys’s face, that was all for him, he didn’t care. “Hi,” he said, grinning stupidly back.

“Hi.” Rhys leaned down, kissed him lightly on the lips, and then slid into the seat opposite. He stretched out his legs so their ankles touched.

John’s heart thumped hard and his cheeks burned. He felt as though fifty pairs of eyes were on them. If only their table were somewhere more private.

Rhys frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… no… I just….” John gestured around the room. “I’m not used to going out.” He definitely wasn’t used to being out in public with someone as cute and young as Rhys, kissing him on the mouth as if it was a normal thing to do.

“Oh shit. Was it okay to kiss you?” Rhys leaned forward, speaking in a hushed voice. “I thought you were out. I should have checked, though. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve always been out. Well, for years. That’s not it. It’s just….”

“What?” Rhys pressed, lines of concern marring his brow.

“I feel like people will be looking at us and wondering what the hell you see in me,” John muttered quietly, staring intently at his fingers as he picked at a nail. Rhys chuckled and John snapped his gaze up, surprised by his reaction. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s funny because I feel exactly the same. I mean, look at me.” Rhys gestured at his clothes. “I tried to find something better to wear, but my only jeans without holes are in the wash ready for Monday, and I don’t own any shirts with buttons on them, or T-shirts without stupid shit printed on the front.”

“I like your T-shirts,” John said.

“Well, good. And I like you exactly as you are.”

“But you look cool and young, and I’m the complete opposite. I suppose I’m worried that people will think I’m your dad or your uncle or something.”

“Not if they saw me kiss you, they won’t.” Rhys grinned. “They’ll know you’re my hot silver-fox boyfriend. Shall I do it again to make sure?” He nudged John’s ankles with his own under the table. “I could use tongue this time, just to completely remove any doubt.”

John laughed out loud at that, and his anxiety and tension melted away as he relaxed. “No. Tempting though it is, I don’t think that’s necessary.” He wondered whether Rhys had realised he’d referred to John as his boyfriend? John liked it. It sounded good.

“Okay, so can we order some food now we’ve got that cleared up? Because I’m starving.” Rhys picked up the menu and started reading.

After John’s initial discomfort, the rest of their date went swimmingly. They talked about some of the things they didn’t already know about each other. Their backgrounds, their education, their hobbies other than music.

John read a lot—any genre, but especially gay fiction and mysteries. Rhys confessed to a Netflix addiction. “They make it too easy for you. The next episode auto plays when the one before finishes. Sometimes I end up staying awake till 2:00 a.m. because I can’t tear myself away.”

“Yeah, I hear you. I do that with books. But if I can’t sleep, I need the distraction.”

Rhys nodded and touched the back of John’s hand with his fingertips. “I still sometimes find it hard to sleep too.”

John remembered how well he’d slept with Rhys in his bed. He wondered whether it was a fluke; maybe he’d find out tonight.

After they paid their bill, they stepped out into the street. It was dry and cold, the moon was bright, and a scattering of stars dotted the black sky. “How did you get here?” John asked.

“I walked.”

“Me too. You didn’t bring your guitar, then? I thought we were supposed to be practising.”

Rhys slipped his hand into John’s; his fingers were cool and strong. “I thought we had better things to do.”

John smiled and squeezed his hand. “I can think of one or two.”

When they got back to John’s house, they went straight to bed. Naked, they got under the covers until they’d built up enough heat between them that John pushed the duvet off again. He was sucking Rhys’s cock, with a spit-slick finger in Rhys’s arse, when Rhys arched off the bed. “Fuck, that feels so good. God, John. Yeah, right there.” He licked his lips, red and wet and bitten.

John groaned, imagining those lips around his cock.

It was as though Rhys read his mind, because the next words out of his mouth were “Can we try sixty-nine? I really want you in my mouth, but I don’t want you to stop what you’re doing.”

John pulled off with a wet sound. “Sounds like fun. How are we gonna do this?”

They tried on their sides, but it was hard for John to finger Rhys like that, so they ended up with John on his back and Rhys on his knees and elbows over him, legs spread wide to give John access to his arse. It also gave John an excellent view, with Rhys’s hard cock and balls hanging down and the curve of his perineum leading back to his tight, pink hole.

“I’m not going to last long like this,” he warned Rhys.

“Don’t care. It’s hot when you come fast. Makes me feel awesome.” Rhys guided John’s dick into his mouth and started to suck.

“Fuck,” John muttered and tried to focus on getting Rhys off as well as what was happening to his own cock. This time he tried two fingers. “Is that okay?”

Rhys hummed, his mouth full of dick, but it sounded like a yes and he pushed back eagerly. Rhys’s cock jerked as John rubbed over his prostate and another pulse of pre-come dripped from the tip. John angled his head so he could suck on it again.

Rhys came first. He kept John in his mouth, moaning around his dick in a way that was insanely hot, while he filled John’s mouth with come, his arse clenching rhythmically around John’s fingers. John followed him just a few seconds later, thrusting deep into Rhys’s throat and making him gag a little, but Rhys carried on sucking and swallowing around him until John was done.

Rhys eased himself off John and collapsed beside him. “Fuck. I’m too tired to move,” he mumbled.

Rhys was the one who was the wrong way up, with his feet near the headboard. But John wanted to kiss him, so he moved instead. He flipped around and crawled over Rhys to claim his lips in a kiss that tasted of come, before lying down and pulling him into his arms.

Rhys snuggled up, his breath warm on John’s shoulder. “Should’ve brought the pillows with you.”

“You should have moved,” John pointed out.

“Yeah. Well, you make a nice pillow anyway.”

John dozed off a while, lulled by Rhys’s soft breath and warmed inside and out by the contact. A little later, Rhys woke him by nudging him gently.

“I’m cold, can we get under the covers?”

“Yeah.” John rubbed his eyes. God, he was knackered. He hadn’t slept well last night. Too many thoughts for his brain to switch off. “You staying again?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Sure. Want to use the bathroom? I’m ready to sleep.”

“I noticed.” Rhys’s lips quirked.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m tired too.”

They got up and used the bathroom. Rhys had brought a toothbrush this time, which John was ridiculously pleased about. Then they relocated to the right end of the bed and pulled the covers over themselves. John turned off the light and spooned up behind Rhys, as he’d done last time. He kissed Rhys’s neck, and Rhys snuggled backwards, reaching for John’s arm and pulling it around him.

“I didn’t realise how much I missed being held until we started this,” Rhys said quietly. “When you’re in a relationship, you take it for granted. Having someone to touch, someone who touches you, someone to hug when you need a hug, or even when you don’t.”

His words made John’s heart ache, because they made perfect sense. That had been one of the hardest things for John about losing David. It was one of the reasons he still had trouble sleeping. After so many years of sharing a bed, it felt awful being alone.

In the morning, John woke to an empty bed.

It was still warm where Rhys had been lying next to him, and John heard the flush of a toilet followed by the sound of water running in the bathroom for a while.

When Rhys came back, he had a towel around his waist, which he left on the back of a chair before scooting back under the covers and curling around John.

John winced at the touch of Rhys’s cold hands.

“Sorry.” Rhys kissed John’s cheek in apology.

John turned to kiss him properly, and soon Rhys was warm again and they were both hard.

“Did you buy condoms and lube?” Rhys panted in his ear as John wrapped his hand around Rhys’s erection and stroked.

“Um, no. Sorry. I haven’t been shopping yet.”

That much was true, but John knew it was a weak excuse. He could easily have stopped at a supermarket or a chemist on his way home and got some. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. Maybe a touch of performance anxiety combined with an inexplicable hesitancy about taking that step, which was ridiculous because they were already having sex. Putting his dick in Rhys’s arse wasn’t some magical commitment; it was the logical next step if they both wanted it.

Something in his voice must have clued Rhys in to his internal dilemma, because he propped himself up on one elbow and studied John’s face intently. “Hey,” he said softly. “If you’re not ready yet, it’s fine.”

John’s cheeks heated. He didn’t know how to articulate what he was feeling without sounding stupid. “No, that’s not it. I’ve just had a crazy week, so it slipped my mind.”

Rhys looked unconvinced, but John didn’t want to answer more questions, so he rolled Rhys onto his back and started to kiss his way down his chest. “I guess,” he said between kisses, “you’ll have to make do… with my mouth… for now.” The last words were muttered against the tip of Rhys’s cock before he sucked it into his mouth and wrapped a hand around the base.

“Such a hardship.” Rhys’s voice was tight and breathless.

They spent half the morning in bed, dozing off again after mutual blowjobs. They finally got up around ten because they were both hungry.

“I guess I should head home,” Rhys said after they’d showered—together—and eaten some breakfast, but he sounded reluctant.

“You don’t have to. I don’t have any plans until Beech House later. We could work on the songs again, and I can make us some lunch.”

“No dog walking today?” Rhys asked.

“No, Maggie’s discharged me from duty. She’s fit enough to manage now. It’s not like Billy needs long walks.”