Men of London 06 - Flying Solo (22 page)

By the time Max had wet him with both his mouth and by pouring from the bottle, until Gibson’s front was soaked and his cock and balls pushed pinkly through the delicate white fabric, Gibson’s hole was aching to be filled and possessed by something other than the fingers currently pressing insistently inside him.

Max was hard, his cock bobbing as he leaned in and out, delivering this particular form of water torture. The look of rapture on his face turned Gibson on like nothing else. He was being worshipped and adored, and it was a heady feeling.

“You look so damn sexy lying there. My very own wet dream.” Max poured what was left in the bottle onto Gibson’s cock and then sat back, gazing at him with eyes drinking him into their depths.

“Please,” Gibson mewled. “I need more than your fingers inside me.”

Max opened a condom and sheathed himself. “Do you ever want to reverse things more?” he asked huskily as his fingers ran trails through the wetness on Gibson’s belly. “Because you know if you do, that’s fine with me. I don’t mind either.”

“I thought you liked topping?” Gibson said; the thought of making love to Max was appealing. Gibson was a bottom at heart, but with Max, he enjoyed being inside him.

“I do. But for you, I’d do anything and enjoy it. You know that, baby.”

Gibson considered then shook his head. “Not tonight. Tonight I want
you
to take
me
. I want to do you again, but not tonight.”

Max chuckled sexily. “That’s more than all right with me.” He finished dripping the rest of the water lazily onto Gibson’s stomach and chest, leaning down and lapping the moisture pooling in his belly button.

Gibson moaned. “I’m ready to fucking explode here and I want to do that with you filling me up. Stop teasing.”

Max grinned and took Gibson’s mouth in a cool, wet kiss as he fulfilled Gibson’s basest desire and slid into him. Eyes the colour of autumn leaves stared into his intently as between them, they fulfilled each other’s need for one another. Gibson closed his eyes and fell into the sensation of being owned, of being seduced and being…loved.

Slow, steady thrusts of Max’s hips, coupled with his own needy movements to meet the slick skin of his lover’s groin, made Gibson smile dreamily as his fingers gripped firm buttocks and urged Max deeper.

There was no need for words. Soft sighs and groans were the only sounds permeating the dark recesses of the room and Gibson moaned softly as his climax built. He managed to groan out a word.

“Fuck…” He shuddered as he came, warm streams of sticky come coating them both as his arse clenched tighter. Max gave a strangled groan and murmured Gibson’s name. His body stiffened and he gave one last, slow push of his hips then he buried his face in Gibson’s neck. Teeth nipped the sensitive skin of Gibson’s throat and he let out a small cry of pain and satisfaction.

“Are you eating me, Max? ’Cos that’s what it feels like.”

Max lifted his head, hooded eyes filled with emotion staring down into his. “I want to bloody consume you,” he whispered as he moved away. “Any way I can. God, honey. You turn me into an animal.”

Gibson nodded in drowsy satisfaction. “Hooray me.” He reached out a languid hand. “Now give me those damn wet wipes and let me clean myself off. I’m all sticky and I want to curl up beside you and go to sleep.”

Max handed him the ever-present wipes and they cleaned themselves up and then crawled under the duvet. Gibson snuggled into Max’s right side and gave a contented sigh.

“I missed you so much and this is the best way to spend the night. I love being with you.”

“Me too,” Max said softly against his hair. “I wish I could have been there for you when you had the funeral.”

Gibson trailed fingers across Max’s damp, wipe-fragranced stomach. “It was fine, lover. Stop beating yourself up about it. You’re here now.
You’re
all that matters.” He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into the duvet and Max’s body.

Max gave a soft sigh and pressed a kiss against the top of his head. “I’m glad you feel that way. I was going to tell you about this tomorrow but I think now is the right time.” Max shifted and Gibson heard him take a deep breath. “I’m transferring to ground crew in a few weeks. I got the job.”

At first, it didn’t register. Gibson heard the words ‘transfer’ and ‘ground crew’ in his head and satiated as he was with sexual release, he didn’t quite process it. Once the penny dropped and he realised what Max had said, he shot upright, covers falling from his body.

“What? When did this all happen?”

Max shrugged and turned on his side to face him. “I had my interview a while ago and they decided I was a good fit their team. While I’ll be working different shifts, night and day, at least I won’t be on stay-overs and flying around the country. I’ll be home more often.” His voice faltered. “Is that okay? I mean, I thought you’d be pleased, because you always say you don’t see me enough…”

The vulnerability in that voice made Gibson’s chest ache. “Of course it’s okay with me. You know that. But are you sure? I mean you loved flying, and I’d hate to take that away from you.”

“I love you more,” Max blurted and Gibson lost his breath. He stared down at Max, not quite sure what to say. They looked at each other and then Max sighed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He lay back, throwing his arm across his eyes. “It slipped out. Fuck.”

Gibson lay back too, hands clasped under his head as he contemplated the ceiling and the enormity of the words he’d heard. Had wanted to hear. They weren’t unexpected—after all Maxwell had told him so before—but hearing them in the warmth of the bed they’d made love in without a fever in sight was a little scary. Another emotion warmed him too, though: joy.

“Say something.” Max’s voice was tight. “Anything.”

“I’m thinking,” Gibson countered. “I want to say the right thing.”

“If you have to think about it, then maybe there’s nothing to say.” Max muttered huffily.

Gibson sat up and glared at Max, a surge of affection making his words less critical. “Stop being such a douche.” He pulled off the covers and watched as Max removed his arm and watched him from narrowed eyes. Slowly, Gibson leaned over and traced the outline of Max’s tattoo with his tongue. In between teasing licks, he carried on his conversation.

“You know, it’s not the first time you’ve told me that.” Max stiffened and Gibson grinned as he placed soft kisses across Max’s stomach. “And I’m a Cancer. We like to think about things before blurting them out, not like you Scorpios who say whatever’s on your mind, whenever.” His eyes widened. “Oh my God, I realised you’re a Scorpio and have a scorpion tattoo? How radical is that?” He could almost see Max’s eyes roll at those words. “Is that why you chose a scorpion?” Gibson asked curiously.

Max growled. “No. And what do you mean you’ve heard those words before?” Gibson noted with delight Max made no move to stop the slow exploration of his body.

“Well, when you were sick, and I was looking after you, you told me then. Of course you thought you were talking to Dream Gibson at the time…” He bit the flesh on Max’s stomach and he let out a yelp.

“I knew it.” Max sat up, and Gibson moved back. “I knew there was something you were hiding afterwards. Why didn’t you say anything? And what exactly
did
I say?”

Gibson smirked. “You told me not to tell Real Gibson. That you didn’t want to scare me away. And look, lo and behold. I’m still here.”

“So you are.” Max’s voice was thoughtful. “Did I let any other gems of wisdom loose while I was feverish and my boyfriend was taking advantage of the situation?” His voice was more relaxed and a little teasing. The tension had disappeared from Max’s body as Gibson nibbled his ear and nodded.

“Uh-huh. You told me you liked to dress up in a furry suit and pretend to be a squirrel. Oh and I think the words ‘sucking my nuts’ was mentioned a couple of times...” He shrieked as Max pushed him back onto the bed, a slow smile forming on his face.

“You lying little rotter. I said no such thing.” Max growled. Gibson had poked the bear now and a merciless tickling ensued, leaving Gibson gasping for breath and giggling uncontrollably. He was particularly susceptible to having his ribs tickled.

Soon, he was breathless, lying beneath Max’s hard body—in every sense of the word—staring up into his face. It was a definite
moment
.

In the stillness of the room there was only each other, and Gibson could hear the steady beat of his own heart. His arms were pinned above his head as Max lay across him. He was waiting for something. Gibson didn’t want to disappoint him.

“You love me, then?” he breathed and watched in delight as Max’s eyes dilated and his nostrils flared. The answer, when it came, was simple.

“You know I do.”

“Oh, okay. I guess it’s a good thing I love you back then.” Gibson reached up and encircled his Max’s neck with strong arms, drawing him in for kiss. Max made a small sound and then Gibson was lost in the slippery warmth of the eager tongue in his mouth, the hands running through his hair and the insistent press of a hard body against his. When they finally drew apart for breath, both men were panting and, if Gibson’s body was anything to go by, both were once again very turned on.

However, this wasn’t about making love right now. It was about sharing, about the future.

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me,” Gibson said softly as he rested his head on Max’s chest. “I never thought I’d see it, but you enchanted me the minute you did that whole
Karate Kid
thing in the club. I didn’t realise it then.”

Max laughed. “You sound like someone from a cheesy romance novel.” He reached over and moved a damp tendril of hair from Gibson’s cheek. “I fell for you the minute I saw you on the plane.”

Gibson groaned mock theatrically. “Oh, God, listen to us. Please tell me we aren’t always going to be this damn soppy. I think I might throw up.” But his tone was teasing. And when Max disappeared under the covers and took him in his warm and eager mouth, Gibson arched his back and gladly gave in to being cherished.

Maxwell sighed happily and finished licking runny ice cream off his fingers. Life had settled into some sort of normality after Gibson’s return from Scotland. The last two months had been interesting to say the least.

He’d learnt Gibson had a nasty streak when interrupted too many times from his game design. Maxwell had made the mistake a few weeks ago of distracting him not once, not twice, but three times during a particularly complicated 3-D rendering ‘thingy’ he was doing. The subsequent potty-mouth invectives coming from lips he’d kissed not too long ago had horrified Maxwell. The broken house phone lying in pieces in the rubbish bin had borne testament to Gibson’s temper as he’d had hurled it at the wall. And Maxwell thought
he
was the one with the bad temper. Huh.

When he’d mentioned it to Jack one evening as they’d swapped stories about the creatively endowed but fiery virago currently in his living room on a conference call with some hairy dude called Everett, Jack had laughed loudly and sympathised. Apparently he’d been on the receiving end of Gibson’s hissy fits more than once.

Maxwell had also found out said Everett was a former fuck buddy and was coming over for the Quasar Game Conference to be held in a weeks’ time. He’d made a mental note to not let Chewy, as Jack had named Everett, go anywhere near his boyfriend on his own. Maxwell was planning on going to the Con too, even if the outpouring of geekiness he expected to encounter killed him. Gibson could get his geek on with the best of them, something else Maxwell had discovered.

Jack wandered in, munching on something looking like a cross between half a cow and a loaf of bread. It was the biggest burger Maxwell had ever seen, oozing mustard and tomato sauce down Jack’s chin. Maxwell was always in awe of Jack’s appetite and the kitchen at his and Gibson’s flat was always stocked with the most amazing variety of foods and snacks.

“He still busy with Hairy Boy?” Jack took a bit bite of his burger. “They get on the phone and they talk for hours. Best settle in for the long haul, buddy.”

Maxwell sighed. “Is he always like this? So intense when he gets his teeth into something?”

Jack nodded and cheerfully wiped a splodge of mustard off his lip and sucked it. “Yep. Gibson is a perfectionist when it comes to his gaming. He drives me crazy.” He grinned fondly. “But he’s a consummate professional and there’s no one I’d rather do this whole business thing with.”

Maxwell wiped his sticky fingers on his jeans. “The game is nearly finished then? Gibson was saying it’ll be ready for next year, maybe a little earlier than February.”

Jack’s eyes shone. “Yeah. We’ve come along great these last couple of months.” He prodded Maxwell slyly in the ribs. “Thanks to you.”

“Me?” Maxwell was surprised. “What did I do?”

“You’ve kept him happy, Max,” Jack said softly. “Taken his mind off his dad’s death, looked after him and made sure he ate properly. He’s lapping it up and it’s the happiest I’ve seen him. You’re good for him.”

Maxwell’s body flushed with happy warmth. “Oh. Thanks, that means a lot.” Surely, he had never felt more content. Coming home to Gibson curled up on the sofa bed, reading or on his laptop, or coming over here to Gibson’s house and being part of a close-knit circle that included Jack and Beth, whom he liked, was like being part of a family. And when they went to visit Gibson’s family in Scotland, he was made to feel welcome too. It was eons away from his previous life as a travelling salesman of his sexual wares and high-flying cabin attendant.