Ever had the kind of experience that just scared the knickers off of you, but then later on when you think about it, in the cold light of day so to speak, it just seems terribly exciting instead of scary? No? Well, that's where I am right now. It's been a few weeks since that party at Quinn's mate Tim's house, yeah, THAT party, and I'm still scared stiff by what happened, but on the other hand, every time I think back to it, there are other parts of me that feel decidedly stiff as well. Bugger.
Bugger quite literally. Every time I think about it I end up finding Quinn, stopping him doing whatever he's doing, and buggering him til the cows come home. He's started giving me funny looks... This morning I woke up from a particularly interesting dream—the kind that repeats the action in slow-motion, 3D, and stereo in front of your eyelids—and I'm given to thinking I might want to make a few very small modifications to our room. Nothing major. Just a few strategically placed hooks and such. Then I'll need to go shopping in Soho. And that's freaking me out even more.
So the task I've set myself for this afternoon is to corner Nicky—shouldn't be too difficult, I'll just have to make my way to the telly—and ask him some rather embarrassing questions that someone as jaded as Nicky should have no trouble at all answering. Yeah, right, and hell will freeze over this evening. Mind you, that's what best friends are for, right? Answering difficult questions, I mean. Hmm. Wonder whether Nicky is shockable.
"Hey Nicky, got a couple of questions for you," I say by way of saying hello as I walk into the sitting room.
"Is it going to take long? Only, there's cricket in half an hour," Nicky replies.
"Nicky," I whine.
He sighs dramatically, but leans down to switch off the telly. "Alright, what's so important it can't wait?"
That's when I dry up of course. My throat's so parched all of a sudden I couldn't talk even if I wanted to, although the bright crimson shade my face is turning should give him a little bit of a clue.
He sighs again. "Rob, this isn't a sex question by any chance, is it?"
I nod, still quite unable to speak, and it feels like my ears are burning up with embarrassment. Nicky's looking at least mildly interested now, which I suppose is an improvement over the petulant look he was wearing a few minutes ago, but on second thoughts, I think I'd rather he watch the cricket after all.
"So since you're wanting to ask me, I'm assuming that this isn't a question that's directly related to shagging Quinn," he says quite flippantly totally ignoring my embarrassment. "Because I've got to tell you, my practical experience concerning two blokes getting it on can be summarized as me thumping on your wall because you're making those godawful noises again..."
Instead of replying to that little gem, I decide to have a coughing fit. Nicky is looking completely unperturbed by all of this and just snickers a little.
"So what was your questions?" He asks when I've recovered a bit.
I cough some more and my face makes the journey from crimson to bright scarlet.
He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner and says, "honestly Rob, I won't be able to help you if you can't spit it out."
"Alright, alright," I mutter through clenched teeth. "This is kind of embarrassing."
"Can't be any more embarrassing than shagging another bloke now, can it?" He shrugs. "Get on with it."
"OK, remember that party we went to a few weeks ago?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady enough so it can at least pass for masculine.
"What the one after which you came home and spent half the night screaming 'oh god Quinn, fuck me, please, fuck me hard'?" Nicky asks pitching his voice high while I blush some more. Hadn't realized we were that loud.
I wince. "Yeah that one," I say. "And I do not sound like that."
He shrugs. "So what happened at that party that had you begging him to fuck you? I thought it was usually the other way around-"
"Most of the time, yes," I interrupt him before he can expound on our bedroom habits any further. God this is embarrassing! It's not that I'm that bothered by him knowing that, yeah, Quinn does me on occasion—I reckon he worked that one out a while ago and while I still prefer to drive I've gotten over the little hang-up that equated masculinity with topping—no, this is embarrassing because I'm about to tell Nicky more than I've ever told anyone about my sex life. Ah fuck!
"Are you going to tell me or can I watch the cricket?" Nicky asks impatiently.
Ah fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck. Here it goes. "So at that party they kind of had this set-up in the back room..."
"Yes, the back room," Nicky says when it becomes clear I need prompting.
I swallow hard. "They had some hooks in the ceiling and some, uhm, chains and stuff hanging from it to-"
"Suspension bondage," Nicky says quickly, "that's what it's called."
"It is?" I ask bewildered. "His feet never left the ground..."
"Yeah, but if it was a good set-up chances are they could have left the ground without too much trouble," Nicky smirks. "All it would have taken is a little bit of extra effort... was it a block and tackle system?"
I'm quite aware that my mouth is hanging wide open. "A what?"
He rolls his eyes. "You know, like a simple pulley system?"
I nod.
"So they probably had some nice suspension cuffs, some harnesses, that sort of thing," Nicky muses.
I nod again, remembering to close my mouth this time.
"You actually tied Quinn up?" Nicky asks leering a little. "You kinky bugger."
I blush furiously. "He... he offered," I stutter. "When we got there there was one guy whipping another with a cat o'nine tails and it looked really hot and I wanted to try..." shuddupshuddupshuddup Rob! You keep on babbling any more and you're going to let slip about using the paddle and... how badly can you blush before you spontaneously combust? Christ, the penny's just dropped! "Hang on a minute Nicky! How the hell do you know how this stuff works and the proper names for it?"
Nicky's grinning from ear to ear now. "Because you don't have to be queer to enjoy a little bit of slap and tickle, idiot," he laughs. "What? You thought you'd cornered the market on kink? Who borrows whose leather around here?"
"Oh. Oh well, learn something new every day," I mumble not quite managing to meet his eyes. "You like... never mind, I don't want to know."
"So you want to set up something similar in your room, yeah?" Nicky asks matter-of-factly. His breathing is sounding a little off though. Wonder whether he's embarrassed after all? Or maybe he's just coming down with a cold.
"Yeah, sort of," I admit. "I was just going to ask you to lend me a hand getting some hooks in the ceiling and maybe pointing me in the direction of some stores that might, you know, carry supplies... but if you know how to go about doing this, then..."
"Yeah sure," Nicky says. Now there's definitely something off about his breathing. "I'll help you. When do you want to start?"
"Uhm, today?" I ask pushing my luck a little.
"Right, no problem mate," he replies. "Just give me about twenty minutes to have a shower, yeah?"
He hurries off in the direction of the bathroom leaving me in the sitting room looking somewhat bemused and wondering ever so slightly why he needs to take a shower at two o'clock in the afternoon.
Half an hour later Nicky is dragging me to the hardware store and I am starting to feel a little sick. Daydreaming about tying Quinn up again and purchasing the actual means to do it would appear to be two different kettle of fish entirely, and have I mentioned I'm feeling a little faint? Oh well, nothing for it now I suppose. Nicky's on a roll.
"Hadn't we better go to a, uhm, you know, store beforehand," I squeak as we get off the bus.
"A 'uhm, you know, store'?" Nicky chuckles. "Never heard of one of those."
I lower my voice and hiss, "a sex store, for restraints and such."
Nicky shrugs. "Don't need to, unless you want to get some of those fancy cuffs. The rest of it is just a waste of money."
"Oh. So what..."
"You'll see," he says grabbing a shopping basket. "Everything you need we can get right here; well, with one or two exceptions, but you've already got the handcuffs."
"How the hell do you know about those," I sputter indignantly.
Nicky rolls his eyes at me in a good-natured way and says, "they've only been hanging from your bedpost for the past two months. Honestly Rob, if you don't want people to know about these things then maybe you shouldn't leave them lying around in broad daylight."
"Oh."
"Yeah. You still have those dog-collars you got a few years back as a fashion-statement, don't you?" He asks.
"Yes, why?" I reply.
"Because before they made their way into a god-only-knows-how-expensive shop, they came from a leather supplier, specifically designed for use in... games. They've got the D-rings and everything..." I can't help noticing that Nicky's voice is starting to sound funny again.
With that he purposefully starts striding around the store, picking out items seemingly at random and giving me impromptu lessons in the practical application of physics while he's at it. First he selects about a hundred feet of nylon rope and when I try to protest that that might be a little bit too much, he starts rambling on about mass and volume and power to weight ratios and I wisely decide to shut up.
Next up are steel chains cut to size by the ever helpful store employees who are quizzed on maximum weight allowances. Then come padlocks and clips and I'm starting to think Nicky's enjoying himself a wee bit too much. Finally, he selects hooks to screw into the ceiling and walls and various other pieces of metal that I gather, even with my unschooled eyes, are essential components of a simple pulley system. Once that's done he has me pay for the lot and we are on our way back home.
It's quite strange really, because I've never seen Nicky take any interest in physical labor at all, but he clearly has quite a bit of mechanical aptitude. It takes him only a couple of hours with assorted power tools to create a set-up fairly close to the one I saw at Tim's house on a minute budget.
"So, what do you think?" He finally asks surveying his handiwork.
I whistle. "Not bad at all," I reply. "There's no harness, but I reckon I'll be able to use one of the padlocks to fasten Quinn cuffed hands to the chains over there."
Nicky rolls his eyes at me again—he's been doing that rather a lot lately. "What did you think I got the rope for, nitwit," he laughs. "You make your own harness."
"I do?" I ask perplexed.
"Shit Rob," he says a little bit more seriously. "How often have you done this?"
I blush a little. No use lying, I suppose. "Once and somebody was helping."
He sighs. "I'll teach you how. Get the collar and you can have a practice run on me."
I hasten to do as he says and next thing I know, I'm knotting the middle of the rope to the ring at the front of the collar. Then he has me run the two ends across his chest and under his arms to his back, where he instructs me to tie a knot, before bringing them around again to his front and tying another knot just above his groin. Then he has me pass them through between his legs and bring them up around each leg, back to the front and up until they cross the rope already there, at which point he instructs me to twist the ends around that and tighten them.
"There, that's your basic rope harness," he says quite satisfied after he's tested it a little. "What do you think?"
"Looks kind of like a parachute harness," I say before I can bite my tongue for my own stupidity.
He laughs. "Yeah, that's probably where it's from," he says and start undoing the rope again, coiling it up neatly in the process. "Anything else you need."
That, of course, is where my mouth runs off before my brain gets a chance to issue the token protest. "Paddle."
Nicky's voice hitches a little. "Yer what?"
I swallow hard. Well, I've already said it now, won't get much worse, right? "At the party. I didn't just tie Quinn up, I..."
Nicky's eyes are virtually popping out of their sockets. "You paddled him?" He asks weakly.
I nod. "Do you..."
It's his turn to swallow and when he speaks his voice is sounding a little strained—he probably thinks I'm a total perv now. "Yeah. You want to borrow it?"
"Please?" Is it my imagination or is he breathing a little harder?
"Alright," he replies. "On one condition."
"Which is?" I ask.
He takes a deep breath. "I want to watch."
I sit down hard on the bed before my legs have a chance to give out from under me. "You what?" I practically shout.
He shrugs. "I don't want to watch you having sex or anything, I just want to watch you tying him up and paddling him. Please?"
"No sex though?" I ask totally bewildered.
"No, don't think I could do that," he stammers. "I mean, I'm happy you're happy and all that, but the thought of the two of you actually getting it on... shit, Rob, that's pretty off-putting, to put it mildly. I try not to think about it too hard most of the time. But the other stuff..."
I can't exactly meet his eyes right now, because that'd just be too embarrassing. Instead I try to look at the floor, or I would have tried, if my eyes hadn't gotten distracted half-way there. "Nicky?" I say quite shakily when my vocal chords finally decide to work again.
"Yeah?"
Oh well, here I go stating the painfully obvious again. "Did you know you had a stiffy?"
"Yeah."
"Oh."
He swallows hard. "It's naught to do with you," he says hoarsely. "I mean, it's not that I want your arse or anything."
"Well you can't have Quinn's, he's mine, so don't even bother asking," I say trying quite desperately to sound funny.
He rolls his eyes. "I'm not after Quinn's arse either, though if you could put a pair of tits on him and squeeze him back into those too-tight leather pants..." he shudders, then grins when he sees the look on my face. "Relax nitwit, it's not your bloke that's getting me all hot and bothered, it's all that talk about tying people up and spanking them and..."
"That turns you on even when it's a bloke what's going to be tied up and spanked?" I ask weakly.
"I'm trying not to think about the bloke aspect too much," Nicky replies roughly. "I'm just focusing on the tying up and spanking bits."
I am mercifully saved from having to reply to that by the arrival of Quinn, who is stood in the doorway blinking a little. Then his mouth starts opening and closing at regular intervals—he bears a striking resemblance to a goldfish when he does that. Finally, when I'm just starting to think that maybe I ought to find him a nice big bowl of water to make him more comfortable, he clears his throat and waves his hand at the ceiling. "You did some..."
"Home improvements," I reply with a surprisingly straight face. "Well, actually Nicky did most of it. I figured that we could, you know..."
"I can see that," he says.
"You're not upset, are you?" I ask biting my lip. "Only, I thought you enjoyed that just as much as I did and I thought..."
He shakes his head. "No, I'm not upset, and I did enjoy it. I'm just a little surprised is all." He turns to Nicky. "You've made a rather good job of it."
"Thank you, I tried," Nicky replies blushing. Fucking hell, I don't think I've ever seen Nicky blush before.
An uncomfortable silence follows. Now I should have learned my lesson by now, wouldn't you say? When the room is plunged into pregnant silences, I should never ever on pain of pain and eternal damnation be allowed to open my mouth. It's a great theoretical concept, innit? Only, that's all it is, because being the idiot I am I go and open my mouth. "Nicky wants to watch."
Quinn makes a choking noise and spins around. "Yer what?"
I'm madly scrambling by this point of course, which really doesn't help things any. "I mean, he wants to watch while I tie you up and maybe, uhm, spank you a little," I say rapidly. "He's even got a paddle he's going to lend me," oh lookee, watch Rob the little spitfire in action, completely unable to shut his fucking mouth when he needs to. "He doesn't want to watch us shagging or anything, just the, uhm, stuff beforehand," I finish lamely and I just know my face is bright crimson again.
"Have you lost your mind?" Quinn almost shouts.
"I just thought," I stammer, "I mean, you didn't mind people at the party watching and I just thought..."
"They were gay Rob," Quinn says in a tone of voice one would use to explain something to a wayward child. "He's not."
"He might be," I offer ignoring Nicky's gasp for air. "I mean, I didn't know I was until you seduced me."
"No he's not," Quinn says.
"No I'm not!" Nicky shouts.
"You're sure of that, the both of you, yeah?" I answer somewhat petulantly. "Because Nicky there's had a raging hard-on ever since he asked me whether he could watch and... and..." I'm grasping for straws now and I know it too, but I don't want to look like a complete idiot amid their vehement denials, "and Nicky's kissed me."
That shuts them up good and proper. Nicky, because he's suddenly too busy staring at his feet and Quinn because he's gaping again. "He kissed you? When?" He finally sputters.
"New Years' Eve, a few years ago," I mutter.
"Yeah, but that was because you looked lonely and miserable and it was midnight and I thought you'd want somebody to kiss you," Nicky says rather indignantly. "It wasn't even a real kiss, just wanted to make you feel better."
"It felt real," I whisper. "Was one of the nicest kisses I ever had before meeting Quinn."
"Nicky, give us a minute, would you?" Quinn asks never taking his eyes off of me. As soon as Nicky's left the room he sits down next to me on the bed and runs his hands through his hair. "Do you fancy him?" He finally asks.
"No. He's my mate, he'll always be important, he's always been around when I needed a friend, but nothing more," I reply. "Don't fancy anyone but you."
"He's not queer Rob," Quinn sighs.
"How can you be sure?" I ask.
"I just know, alright? Same way I knew you were," he says. "It's instinct or something. I can't really explain it, I just know."
"So what's the harm in letting him watch then?" I press on. "He's no threat to you and he knows about this stuff. If anything goes wrong, he..." Shit. That's quite likely the most stupid thing I could have said. If anything goes wrong it's Quinn who'll be up the creek without a paddle, quite literally.
"I'm not worried about anything going wrong," he sighs. "I'm worried about having to live with him after. He's straight Rob. He might be a little blinded by the prospect of watching bondage games because they turn him on, but once it hits him that he's watching a very naked man with a raging hard-on being spanked by another man who's sporting the hard-on of the century, he's going to freak out big time."
"So? He can always leave the room," I argue. "I'd ask him to leave the room before we actually start shagging."
"Yeah, he can leave the room and then the next morning and every morning after that he won't be able to be in the same room with us because every time one of us looks at him he'll be thinking we're checking him out," Quinn explains calmly.
I shake my head. "I don't think so. He's cool with us swapping spit in front of him. He was all for us getting back together after that business with Maggie," I can't help noticing that Quinn twitches a little at the mention of the name, "and he likes you. He's never liked anyone I've been with before."
"I'm not surprised," Quinn mutters.
I roll my eyes. "He asked, Quinn, several times. I..." so not going to say it. Really, I'm not.
"You kind of like the idea of somebody else watching while you dominate me," Quinn finishes the sentence I wasn't going to touch with a ten-foot pole.
"That obvious, huh?"
"Just a bit," he grins. "Look, are you absolutely sure about this?"
I nod. "Yeah, I think so."
"Are you willing to risk a friendship over it?" He asks.
"Quinn, please," I implore.
He thinks about it for a moment, playing with the fingers of my left hand. "Alright, it's not as if I could say anything about it once you've got me all tied up and even if I did say something, you could always gag me..." he shivers a little, then shrugs. "You call the shots in this game Rob. I'll just state for the record here that I think it's an incredibly bad idea and no good will come of it."
"Thank you," I whisper.
He smiles and runs his hand down the side of my face. "Just don't come crying to me if it all goes wrong, ey?"
I kiss his palm. "I won't and it won't go wrong."
We make a date for the first night both Quinn and I have off—Nicky, being still happily unemployed, doesn't have to worry about such details—and I consider changing my mind at least one hundred times before then. I almost do in fact, not so much because I think I have anything to worry about per se—I'll be mostly dressed after all—but because Quinn's warning echoes in my mind a lot. To tell the truth, I think Nicky is having second thoughts as well; oh his eyes darken and his breathing gets a little shallow every time the event is mentioned, but I think he's nervous nonetheless. The only one who doesn't seem to be worried at all is Quinn, which is strange since he'll be the one in a truly vulnerable position.
So Tuesday night rolls around and we have some Chinese take-out and make fun of some program or other on the telly, just to lighten the atmosphere a little, and eventually Quinn nods at me and says, "I think it's time Rob."
I shake a little as I get up, I'm so nervous, and the three of us walk back to the bedroom. Quinn wordlessly starts shucking his clothes and out of the corner of my eye I can see Nicky studiously avoiding looking anywhere below the chest. This is going to go really wrong, innit? Can't really stop it now though, not with Quinn standing there in the altogether and shivering a little while demurely stretching out his hands in front of me. "How do you want it?" He asks.
I decide to skip the full body harness and just restrain his hands using two different chains distended from the ceiling. "Just your hands for today," I say hoarsely. My dick is starting to swell against my jeans something rotten.
He offers me his hands and I quickly tie some rope around them like Nicky showed me, then I sling the rope through the rings of each chain, so his arms are at right angles to his body. "You're OK there, not too tight?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Everything fine here," he replies.
"Alright," I say pulling the ropes that will raise his arms above his head through the pulley system. "Want a safe word?"
He shakes his head again and now he is stood there, his arms raised far above his head, though comfortable enough he can stand without doing himself an injury, the muscles in his back straining. His dick is at half-mast and he looks so incredibly beautiful, for a moment I forget to breathe. Should tell him that, I suppose. Should tell him that at least once before I let loose on his body.
I step up in front of him so I can run my hands gently across his shoulders and up his throat until they are cupping his face. "You're so beautiful," I sigh. "So fucking beautiful I can hardly believe my luck most days. Don't understand what you see in me when you could have anyone out there."
He doesn't say anything but he leans forward, arms straining, to kiss me on the lips. It's a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, totally irreconcilable with what is to come. Behind me I can hear Nicky fidgeting; he's getting impatient. When Quinn breaks the kiss, he leans his forehead against mine for a moment. "Don't want anyone else Rob."
That taken care of, I move around the back of him and Nicky hands me the paddle. It's a nice one too, much nicer than the one we used at the party, all rich and old leather. It has that unique scent you'd usually associate with a tackle room or an expensive shoe shop. "Ready?"
"Please!" Quinn and Nicky moan in unison.
The first swat of the paddle is unexpected and Quinn yelps with surprise. It's harder than my hesitant blow the first time—I know what I'm doing this time—and I follow up quickly, if unexpectedly, with the next few swats. I've realized that he gets much hotter much faster if there is no rhythm to my blows—if he doesn't know what to expect, and I'm a quick learner, always have been. I settle in for a random pattern of quick hard blows to his arse and thighs and he's straining against the restraints, the muscles in his back rippling as he tries to escape and push his body closer to me at the same time—it's not as strange as it sounds.
Out of the corner of my eye, just at the edge of my peripheral vision, I can see Nicky leaning heavily against the bedroom wall and breathing hard. Quinn is panting too, getting harder, if that is possible, his dick drooling with pre-come. Mind you, I've got a lovely wet patch forming on the front of my jeans, so I really shouldn't talk. When I take a second to glance at Nicky I can see he's rock-hard too, unostentatiously trying to rub his hands across the front of his trousers. I wonder briefly whether he'll undo them and start tossing off if we go on much longer and I am kind of disturbed to realize that the thought really turns me on too.
I turn back to Quinn quickly, trying not to think too hard about the possibility of being turned on my Nicky tossing off, and start increasing the frequency and strength of my blows. Quinn is moaning pretty much continuously now. It takes me a few minutes to realize that there are words amid the whimpers and moans and grunts. Words like "fuck me" and "please" and "make me come." I feel my control slipping.
The paddle drops to the floor and I quickly move around the front of Quinn, snap the ring out of the right chain, so his hand is free though still bound by rope, ordering, "on your hands and knees, now!"
He does as he's told as soon as I've freed his left hand. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Nicky with his fly undone, one hand inside his trousers. I reach for the lube and start unbuttoning my own fly, watching Quinn's quivering back. "Nicky, you don't wanna watch, you need to get out now," I grunt with difficulty.
He doesn't move, seems to be captivated by the view in front of him, and I don't have the time or patience to wait on him. He got a fair warning, right? If he stays and watches after that it's entirely his fault. I quickly and efficiently slick myself up, though my hands are shaking almost as much as Quinn's back, and look at Nicky one last time. He still hasn't moved and it doesn't look like he's going to. Oh well, not my problem.
I enter Quinn in one fluid movement and he sighs contentedly and wiggles his arse, trying to get me deeper. Think this is going to be a slow fuck, despite the position, I'm feeling way too mellow for anything else. I stroke up and down Quinn's back a few times, reach around to tweak his nipples a little, which he likes if his moan is anything to go by. He starts moving back and forth on his own accord, starts fucking himself on my dick. Fair enough, I can do that too; let him do all the work. It does feel rather nice.
I have the presence of mind to reach around and start pulling him off though. I'm not going to last very long—too wound up for that—and when I go off I want to take him with me. I hazard another look at Nicky. He's still stood leaning against the wall with wide eyes, staring at the scene in front of him and rapidly moving his hand inside his trousers. He's shaking too. Makes me wonder how long the average human being can go without blinking, because it sure as hell looks like he's going to try and take in the entire show without missing a second of it.
And then I'm too busy to pay any attention to what Nicky is doing because I'm coming and so is Quinn and I really don't have the presence of mind to think about anything else, except noting in passing that Nicky's breathing is getting more strained and then, a few seconds after I collapse in a quivering heap across Quinn's back, Nicky makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh and I know he's come too.
I try to lift my head off of Quinn's back to look at him, but before I can move the door slams rather sharply and when I look up, Nicky is gone. Quinn sighs exaggeratedly and mumbles, "told you it was a bad idea. He's going to be out of sorts for days now because he managed to get off watching two blokes in action."
I don't say anything. Don't want to think about it any more than I want to acknowledge he's probably right. Instead I roll off to the side and pull him down on the carpet with me. I spoon up to him nuzzling his neck. Don't care about anything much right now except holding Quinn close to me and possibly having a short nap.
*****
Sometimes I really hate it when Quinn is right. Most of the time I really don't mind. I mean, if he hadn't gone and decided to prove that I was queer, we never would have gotten together and I never would have known just how good it is to fuck Quinn and be fucked by Quinn and, more importantly, be loved by Quinn. Still, there are times when I really truly deeply hate him to be right and this is one of them.
True, Nicky doesn't lash out at us as such, but he might as well have, the tension in the flat is palpable. When he's there that is. Nicky, lack of a job aside, seems to have found quite a few ways to occupy himself ever since he watched us a couple of weeks ago that keep him away from the flat for long stretches of time.
First he went to visit Rosie in Manchester for a few days. Then he returned only to disappear for a few days on end, coming back each time smelling of sex and beer and staying just long enough to change his clothes and have a bath and then disappear again. That isn't the worst part though. I could cope with Nicky going out and shagging half the girls in London; believe me, I've seen him do it before. No, the worst part is how he has started behaving towards us, especially towards me.
It's not that he's openly hostile or even unfriendly, it's more that in the two long weeks since he got a private viewing he's not looked me in the eye once. Oh, he's polite enough in a staccato kind of way—short concise sentences when required, hurried movements through the common areas of the flat—but he's not my mate anymore, if that makes sense. He can hardly bring himself to look at me, much less at Quinn, and that in a way hurts more than hostility would.
So of course Quinn's been feeling the brunt of it. I'm miserable and hurt and he's suffering because of it and that's even less fair. Can't stop myself from lashing out at him though. Then, after the big blow-up that usually starts with him saying something along the lines of 'I told you so' and 'don't go blaming me' and ends with me being a gibbering mess, we climb into bed together and I try very hard not to let on that I'm quietly crying myself to sleep in his arms.
He knows though. He hasn't said anything, but I can feel his arms tightening around me every time, like he's holding on for fear that I'll leave, because he also knows that Nicky will always be important—maybe more important than him. Lovers come and go, even the ones you think are going to be forever, right? Best friends though, best friends really are supposed to be forever. I don't want to lose Nicky. I'd do just about anything not to lose him.
So that's how the last couple of weeks have been and today looks likes it's going to be no different when Nicky rolls in just short of one in the morning smelling like a brewery. I must be looking more than usually miserable, because this time Quinn gets up off the couch and effectively blocks Nicky's way down the hallway to his room. "You've got to talk this out before I end up killing the both of you," he grinds out through clenched teeth.
"There's nothing to talk out, everything's fine," Nicky replies stoically, never once looking up from that very interesting piece of carpet he's studying. "No problem at all."
"Then why aren't you looking me in the face Nicky?" Quinn shouts.
Nicky shrugs and Quinn—my hero! Have I mentioned that?—simply grabs him by the chin and forces his face up until they are eye-to-eye and Nicky is blushing fiercely.
"Why are you blushing Nicky?" Quinn asks smirking. Alright, so now he's being a tad cruel I think, but he's got Nicky looking at him, which is more than I have managed lately.
"Because... I... I... you..." Nicky stutters hopelessly.
"Because you saw me on all fours taking another bloke up the arse and enjoying it and so did you," Quinn says matter-of-factly, "and that worries you, doesn't it?"
Nick nods noiselessly, the color spreading from his cheeks down his throat and quite possibly further.
"Tell me Nicky," Quinn asks. "What is it you find more disturbing? The fact that I enjoyed it or that you did?"
"I... I..., look I just thought it was something you would... I mean, I didn't actually think the man being fucked... that's just," Nicky looks hopelessly lost now. "But it looked so... you looked like you... fuck Quinn, I don't know, alright? I can't believe I watched that, I can believe even less that I managed to get off on it. What do you want me to say? I'm still trying to work it out for myself."
"I take it you've spend quite an inordinate amount of time these last couple of weeks making sure your penis is still working around girls, right?" Quinn sighs.
Nicky grins sheepishly. "Yeah, no worries there."
"So what are you worried about then?" Quinn asks.
"I did get off on it Quinn. Doesn't that mean... I mean, Rob can get it up for girls just as well as he can get it up for you, I've seen it, alright?" Nicky shrugs. "Does that mean I'm... you know..."
"Finish the bloody sentence Nicky," Quinn snaps. "Queer. Gay. Bent. Take your pick, just finish the bloody sentence! And no, you're not, you're just rather turned on by bondage and dominance games."
"But how can you tell?" Nicky whines looking at me for the first time in two weeks. "How can he tell?"
I shrug and try not to grin too hard. "Don't ask me! He keeps on saying you're as straight as they come, but apparently it's instict and I've none of that."
"But instincts can be wrong!" Nicky shouts. "What if he's wrong?"
Quinn rolls his eyes. "First of all, I've never been wrong about this. I sussed Rob out within a week of moving in here, didn't I?"
Nicky nods hesitantly.
"You want concrete proof? That what you want? A foolproof way of knowing?" Quinn mutters.
Nicky nods again, much more enthusiastically this time.
"Alright," Quinn sighs. "Rob, try and keep that green-eyed monster at bay for a few moments, would you? This is going to be a scientific experiment of sorts, nothing else. Close your eyes Nicky."
Well fuck me! Quinn—my incredibly annoying and amazingly sexy and breathtakingly beautiful lover, mine!—leans down and starts to snog Nicky. Properly. We're not talking a peck on the lips here, we're talking tongue inside Nicky's mouth and what's worse, Nicky is kissing back. I have to hold on to the couch with both hands to stop myself from jumping up and tearing them apart. Scientific research my arse! They're enjoying this.
"That's enough!" I rasp when my knuckles turn white. "Quit it. Now!"
Quinn lets of of Nicky immediately, but it takes a minute before Nicky's hands drop from Quinn's waist and he opens his eyes again. "How was that?" Quinn asks.
"Different," Nicky shrugs. "You're a good kisser, it's just... no offense, but that's all it was; different."
"None taken," Quinn says. "Now just to ensure that it's not just a case of me not being your type, and to make sure I survive this evening, why don't you try and kiss Rob as well. Rob, are you up for a bit of a snog?"
Yeah, sure Quinn, that'll work! Soften me up by getting even. I sure as hell will have something to say about you playing extra-curricular tonsil-hockey with my best friend later on! But that's for later, behind closed doors. Might as well do my darndest to resolve Nicky's little sexual identity crisis first, right? "Yeah, sure," I shrug. "If it'll help."
Nicky, blushing furiously yet again, hurriedly makes his way over to the couch and clumsily hunkers down besides me. Poor sod doesn't really know where to start—I remember that feeling—so I take pity, reach out to take his face in my hands and kiss him. It's not a passionate or hungry kiss, not like I'd kiss Quinn before mind-blowing sex, and it isn't loving and gentle either, because those kisses are reserved for Quinn alone. It's just a kiss. Not particularly memorable, but not bad all the same. Nicky kisses back again.
I break the kiss and Nicky's panting a little. I'm starting to think, ohshitohshitohshitohshit, he does have the hots for me and now he knows it.
"Well?" Quinn asks impatiently. "Satisfied?"
"Not sure," Nicky replies more or less dead-pan. "Think I might have to snog him again just to be certain."
I'm blushing and praying for that act of god again and I swear I would go and die of embarrassment right there, if Nicky didn't turn around at that moment and wink at me rather surreptitiously, which tells me he's figured it out after all; he is most definitely not queer, just got a strange kink or two. Mind you, the look on Quinn's face is almost worth the embarrassment.
"You'll do no such thing! Mine!" Quinn growls rather attractively.
I'm starting to think jealousy suits him. Don't they have a saying in the colonies? Something like, 'payback's a bitch,' or words to that effect? Well, I can be right snotty when the mood is upon me. "I don't know Quinn," I say huskily, "it's all in the interests of scientific research, innit? Couldn't stop now when we're so close to figuring it all out..."
"Oh yeah, research, definitely," Nicky sighs and leans toward me grinning like an idiot.
Well, I like kissing, alright? Always have. So yeah, conceptually I'm not very good at playing without being in a relationship, but Nicky and I, we've known each other a long time and we've got a relationship of sorts, even if it isn't a romantic one—and I like kissing. A little part of me is also reverting to two-year-old status right about now and throwing a temper tantrum because Quinn—my Quinn!— dared kiss someone else, even if it supposedly only was in the interests of research. Nobody but me gets kissed by that mouth without there being consequences. Under any other circumstances, it would have been a fist to the face of whoever was stupid enough to kiss my lover, but in this case I'll settle for winding Quinn up a bit.
So I sigh a little overdramatically and lean forward to meet Nicky's lips. This time around I put a little bit more effort into it as well, try to put on a real show. 'Course Nicky almost ruins it because he's seconds away from a fit of giggles, but he holds out just long enough for Quinn to get really irritated and grab him by the scruff of his neck.
"Get your filthy mitts off of my husband," Quinn shouts.
"Yer what?" I ask shakily.
Nicky just blinks, possibly because Quinn is pulling that shirt rather tightly around his neck and he looks a little pressed for air.
"You heard me," Quinn grinds out.
"Just not sure I understood you," I reply and pointing to Nicky I add, "I think you had better let him have some air. Strangling a flatmate must go against the hyppocratic oath."
"That's doctors, not nurses," Quinn smirks. "And strangling sounds a bit too good for the bastard right now." Nevertheless, he relents and loosens his grip on Nicky's shirt somewhat.
Nicky is struggling for air now, but still manages to speak. "Relax Quinn, I've worked it out," he gasps. "You were right. Men are so not doing it for me. I guess I just like to watch is all."
"Keep it that way if you know what's good for you," Quinn grunts making quite a show of shifting about so he's directly between Nicky and me.
That's around the time the much more important part catches up with me—never claimed I was quick, did I?—and I ask, "did you mean that? When you called me..." can't quite bring myself to say it because I don't want to jinx it any.
"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," Quinn mumbles. "'s not like it's official or anything, but..."
"Yes."
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Nicky hurriedly leaving the room, mouthing 'watch the noise, would you?' at me before he disappears down the hallway.
Then I've got Quinn-tongue in my mouth and impossibly strong arms wrapping themselves around me and lifting me up off the sofa. I just about have the presence of mind to lock my legs around his waist before we start moving, stumbling towards the bedroom. I'm already unbuttoning Quinn's shirt.
He lays me down on the bed and slowly, reverently starts taking my clothes off, never once letting go of my lips while he's doing it. His own clothes disappear somewhere along the way but I hardly notice. Then he's lying on top of me, kissing me like his life depends on it, his hands all over my body. When there is not a spot left untouched, his mouth leaves mine despite my feeble whimpered protests.
Seconds later I feel his hot, hot tongue licking up my dick and then he's taking me whole and swallowing. Christ, I'll never tire of that vacuum mouth! His throat is contracting around my dick slowly; he's taking his time. When he has managed to reduce me to a mewling mess on the bed, he moves up briefly, mumbles "I love you" around the head of my dick and then swallows again fast, just in time for me to come down his throat.
When I've stopped shaking, I feel slick hands, impossibly gently, at the entrance to my body and I sigh into his mouth, which is on mine again, kissing me softly. God, I love him. Seamlessly, it seems, one finger is joined by another and I whimper a little when they're withdrawn, but they are replaced almost immediately by Quinn; soft as silk and hard as steel and there isn't anything in the world I could possibly want more at that moment because he's making love to me. Not shagging, not fucking, making love.
It lasts forever and no time at all and he never stops kissing me, not for a second. When we're both spent and wrapped around each other on the bed, limbs tangled so intricately it'd take an escape artists to pry us apart, he kisses me, nibbling on my lip for a moment and asks, "will you? Forever? Come hell and high water, will you stay with me?"
© KJB 2002-2003.