Men of London 06 - Flying Solo (26 page)

Max reached up and caressed his jawline. “Awesome. That was amazeballs.”

Gibson cackled. “Amazeballs? Now who’s the geek?”

Max grinned. “There’s no doubt about who’s the geek in this relationship, lover. You wear that badge with honour and pride.” He sat up and kissed Gibson’s eye gently, then the healing scar on the side of his face. “Thank you for not kicking me to the curb.”

“Now why would I do that?” Gibson murmured as he snuggled into Max’s side. “I love you. People in love forgive each other. What’s a little smack against a wall between friends?”

Max winced and Gibson backpedalled. “That was a joke. Bad taste, sorry.”

They lay in silence for a while then Max shifted. “I need to clean this stuff off before it itches. Where’s your wipes?”

Gibson huffed. “In the bathroom. God, you are such a neat freak.”

Max sniffed as he got out of bed. “Forgive me for not wanting to stick to the sheets.”

He padded naked to the door and opened it. It was with a sense of surprise when Gibson heard a loud shout of “Oh, for fuck’s sake put some damn clothes on!” as Max came scurrying back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Max stood stock still in the room, face scarlet, as laughter welled in Gibson.

“Jack came home early, huh?” Gibson sniggered and then the floodgates released and before he knew it, he was rolling on the bed howling with mirth. Tears rolled down his cheeks as Max stared at him indignantly.

“Fuck, he saw me in the altogether, and so did Beth,” Max sputtered as he quickly pulled on his sweatpants. “I thought they’d gone out?”

“So did I,” Gibson managed to get out in between laughter. “Something must have gone wrong. Oh, God, your face, you looked like a rabbit running from a fox.”

“You are such a little bitch,” Max huffed. “How am I supposed to go out there now? Not to mention Jack wants to kill me.”

Gibson finally managed to stop laughing, but held his aching sides as he got out of bed. He peered around myopically for his pants and slid them on. “I’ll go find out what’s going on, shall I? You can sit here and cower in bed, you big sissy.”

He nimbly sidestepped a slap to his behind and opened the door to escape into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom light was on and he knocked on the door then barged in. “I thought you two were out for the night? Sorry you got an eyeful of Max’s junk, but
I’m
rather partial to it.”

Jack’s face was scarlet as he sat beside Beth, who was pale and lying on Jack’s bed. “Beth got one of her migraines so I brought her home.” He flashed an ill-tempered stare at Gibson. “What’s he doing here?” He flushed. “I mean, I can guess what you were doing but are you two an item again?”

Gibson pursed his lips. “Yes, we’re all good now. He was looking for the wipes to clean himself up when he ran into you.”

Beth sniggered. Jack looked uncomfortable.

“Oh joy. TMI, Gib,” he muttered as he gently brushed hair off Beth’s cheek. “Are you saying I can’t give him a good kick now for what he did to you?”

Beth slapped Jack on the arm. “That’s exactly what it means, you big bully.” She smiled wanly at Gibson. “I’m glad you got back together. That makes me happy.” Her face went a little green and Gibson was concerned at the pallor of her face. “Jack, I think I’m going to be sick. Could you get me the rubbish bin because I don’t think I’ll make it to the bathroom?”

Jack was up in a flash and handing her the small wastepaper bin. She retched and leaned into it, obscuring her face. Jack held her long hair away from her face.

“What can I do?” Gibson asked feeling useless. “Can I make tea or something?”

Jack shook his head. “Nah, she needs to get it all up and then lie down in a dark room.” He cast a fond glance at Beth. “I’ll be with her, we’ll be fine. You go back to your naked antics.” He scowled. “And tell Maxwell from me if he hurts you again all bets are off.”

“Yes, dear,” Gibson said snarkily. “Do you want me to tell him he’s grounded too? Or put him on the naughty step?” His face grew thoughtful. “I rather like the idea of grounding him on the naughty step…or should that be grinding?”

He chuckled at Jack’s death stare and blew a kiss at Beth. “Hope you feel better, my lovely. I’ll see you both in the morning. I have a scaredy-cat fella to go harass. Nighty night.”

Beth laughed softly. “By the way, Gibson? Max
does
have nice junk.”

Jack glared at her as Gibson sniggered and left the two alone.

He remembered to stop by the bathroom on his way and fetch the wipes.

Maxwell leaned back in the posh chair he sat on around a beautifully dressed table filled with chatting, enthusiastic people. He and Gibson were in Manchester for the weekend at what Gibson jokingly called the ‘semi-prestigious’ gaming award event called the British Gaymz Choice Awards. Gibson had told him smugly it was
the event
for the design and production of LGBT games—and where gay gamers gathered. He’d subsequently sniggered at the clever use of alliteration.

Maxwell had no idea there was actually a gay gaming community, and Gibson had seriously informed him sometimes it became tiresome to trawl beneath the anti-gay slurs in some other forums. Years ago, an LGBT group decided in order to have their technical questions answered, and converse with like-minded individuals, having their own forum was the way to go. The best reason for Maxwell currently sitting surrounded by a bunch of people talking about things he couldn’t hope to understand, was that
Camp Queen
had been nominated in one of the categories; Most Anticipated Game of 2016.

Maxwell had been loftily informed that the online forums talked amongst themselves and held a vote on what game they were looking forward to. Gibson and Jack’s game was on the list. Maxwell had known Anomaly Media was popular and their games were well received, but finding out Gibson and Jack were two of the hottest properties in the gaming community had floored Maxwell. Both men played it down with a sense of humbleness.

Maxwell watched as Gibson leaned over to the man sitting next to him and laughed at something he said. Maxwell couldn’t hear much—the noise level was deafening—so he smiled and stared around him. He’d never been one for big events like this, where the cutlery shone under bright lights, huge bouquets of flowers festooned the table and everyone wore a monkey suit. It was all exceptionally Christmassy, with only one week to go before Christmas Day.

They were spending a few days up in Manchester after the event, visiting Canal Street, taking in a couple of shows and generally winding down from the events of the past six months.

Things had been getting better between them every day and Maxwell thanked whatever mythical gaming gods lived above that he still had Gibson in his life.

He cast an appraising glance at Gibson who looked edibly sexy tonight in his tuxedo with its Chinese lapels, a black and white polka-dot bowtie wrapped around a crisp, white shirt, which moulded to his toned body. Maxwell was looking forward to peeling it off later tonight in the hotel.

He wriggled uncomfortably in his new suit, and cursed the slow creep of his briefs under the tight trousers. Gibson had taken him shopping and insisted this one fitted perfectly, but Maxwell was finding it a little constrictive. He had seen the appreciative gleam in Gibson’s eyes when he’d come out of the bedroom suitably attired. Maxwell had the smug feeling he’d be getting lucky tonight.

Gibson turned to him and winked, placing a warm hand on his. “Okay, Max?”

Maxwell huffed. “You mean apart from not understanding a word anyone is saying and having my knickers trying to eat my arse? Oh yes, I’m cool.” He grinned as Gibson chuckled.

Gibson moved closer and lowered his voice, staring at Maxwell over the top of his spectacles. It was an action that never failed to turn Maxwell on; it was such a sultry move. Especially when it was accompanied with a lick of pink, ripe lips. “You tell those knickers it’s my arse to eat and I fully intend doing that later.”

Maxwell’s trousers grew even tighter and he gulped. “Bitch. You’ve made me spring a hard-on.”

Gibson’s sultry laugh again made Maxwell’s cock swell. He opened his mouth to no doubt say something equally as saucy when the microphone on the stage echoed and the compère, some famous gaming multi-millionaire called Alex de Clair, cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. I trust you’ve all enjoyed the delicious food, got yourselves a drink or two and enjoyed the evening so far. We’re ready to begin the ceremony now so please make sure mobile phones and tablets and the like are switched off, or muted, so we can respect the entrants and the wonderful presentations we’re about to see. A huge amount of hard work has gone into the evening, and the nominees deserve our full attention. Thank you.”

The lights dimmed as everyone sat back to enjoy the show. Jack and Beth slipped in to their seats beside them; they’d been at another table talking to someone they knew.

“Here goes nothing,” Jack said, as he loosened his bow tie. “No matter what happens, short shit, we did good. We’re going to rock with this game next year.”

“I know we will.” Gibson shot him a fond glance as they fist bumped. “I’m nervous though.”

Beth reached over and placed her hands on both Jack and Gibson’s arms. “You two are champs,” she murmured softly. “My heroes.”

The performance began. Maxwell had to admit it was worthy of being classed in the same category as the Royal Variety Performance. There were famous musicians performing, actors he’d seen in some of the movie blockbusters, and various scantily clad men and women dancing on stage. It was professional and entertaining, and when a well-known comedian came on stage, Maxwell laughed until tears ran down his face.

And, of course, in between were the things they’d come to see—the gaming community’s games of the future. Maxwell was bowled over by the quality and attention to detail in them, and marvelled at the creativity involved. He stole a glance at an enraptured Gibson, whose eyes shone as he watched the fruits of his peers’ labours.

When
Camp Queen
was shown as a nominee, and there were snippets of the game on the enormous screens on stage, Maxwell could find no words. He’d seen bits of it on Gibson’s laptop, and been privy to some of the detail in the game. Seeing it in full screen in public with everyone ooh-ing and aah-ing and realising this was Gibson’s work—and Jack’s too of course, and poxy Everett, but in his mind mostly Gibson’s creation—stunned Maxwell into silence. Tears pricked his eyes at the sheer scope of the game and he blinked them away furiously, dabbing surreptitiously at them with his pristine, starched napkin.

Maxwell loved his comic book with a passion because Gibson had made it especially for him. Yet this game unfolding before his eyes was simply more proof his lover was a genius. He’d never been so proud of him. Later he had a special gift of his own for Gibson for Christmas. Maxwell warmed thinking of what lay in his shoulder bag.

He held Gibson’s hand tightly as he smiled softly at him, and they watched the category nominees finish. He closed his eyes and prayed for probably the first time in his life to a god he didn’t believe in, as well as every other fate he knew, for Gibson to win.

When the introduction was over, Gibson’s tightening of hands alerted Maxwell he was as nervous as he was. Beth whispered to Jack soft words of support and encouragement.

“You’re amazing and I love you,” Maxwell whispered to Gibson. “No matter what happens, to me you won hands down.”

Gibson smiled, his eyes a little teary at those words and he nodded. “Thanks, baby.”

There was the usual anticipation before Alex de Clair opened the envelope and kept the audience waiting.

“It seems we have a winner,” he said in his lilting Irish tone. “I have to say I probably agree with this decision, even though I’m not supposed to take sides. But I’ve been watching this little company go from strength to strength and marvelling at the attention to detail and amazing game play produced by them. They are truly a force to be reckoned with in the gaming world, and I see big things ahead for them.” He paused dramatically.

Gibson squirmed beside him. “For fuck’s sake get on with it,” he muttered as Jack nodded his agreement. “Tell us already.”

“And the winner is…” There was another pregnant pause and Gibson squawked again in protest. “Anomaly Media for
Camp Queen
!”

Beth’s shriek made Maxwell’s ears bleed but he didn’t care. All he cared about was looking at the stunned expression on Gibson’s face at the fact their game had won Most Anticipated Game of 2016.

“Oh my God,” his lover said faintly as he sat there, gob smacked. Jack was equally as blindsided. “We won?”

“Yes, honey, you won.” Maxwell punched Gibson in the shoulder. “Now go and up there and get your award.”

Beth was pushing Jack out of his seat too, and both of them watched as Gibson and Jack made their way to the stage. They both looked shell-shocked.

“Oh, God, Maxwell, isn’t this awesome?” Beth said dreamily as she gazed after them. “It’s a dream come true for them both to win an award like this.”