9 comments/ 10612 views/ 2 favorites Triangles By: Triangles And then one day, all by myself, I met James at a company barbeque. He was tall and blonde and filled out his designer suit to perfection. I watched him flirting with the women, sipping my margarita and sighing with disappointment. I didn't think he'd noticed me at all until I was getting ready to go, and there he was behind me in the semi darkness of the cloakroom. "Let me help you with your coat," he said in a clipped London accent, pulling my lapels flat, his powerful fingers brushing against the back of my neck, smoothing my coat over my shoulders. I felt his hard, warm body press against me for a second as my skin broke out in shivers. Then his lips on my ear. "Want to come back to mine?" Hot breath smelling of cinnamon. He turned me around and looked into my eyes. His were almost black in the dim light, although I knew they were a shade of deep blue. As his hand found my stiffening cock, I could only nod. His grin was wicked. "Let's go," he said, and I followed him back to his, my old banger barely keeping pace with his Porsche. My cock was hard the whole way and I had to keep shifting in my seat. That night he fucked me so hard I forgot who I was, his thick cock stretching my asshole and setting fire to my insides as I lay my back covered in sweat, moaning and gasping with every jolt of sensation. Desperate fingers sliding over his sweaty skin, my own dick hard and red and weeping onto my navel. When my back arched and I shot all over my chest, my face, his bedsheets, all thoughts of Mark were finally obliterated from my brain. We fucked until we couldn't move any more and collapsed into each other's arms. The next day, I could barely walk out to the car. I had to go to Cynthia's to drop off a recipe book she'd lent me and wanted back, and then go and visit my grandmother. "Call me," James said, winking. " I wouldn't say no to a re-run of last night." They knew something was different about me, even though I had showered. I tried as best I could to disguise the pain and the twinges but Cynthia knew me too well and pushed the kids out into the garden before giving a great squeal and grabbing me and squeezing me so tight I groaned. "You got a shag!!! Oh and potential boyfriend!!!" she said, her eyes searching my face. "Oh Chris, about fucking time! I'm so happy. Who is he? Tell me everything!!!" I laughed and we sat down on the sofa. I told her briefly about James. I thought I was sparing Mark the details but when I looked at him, he was staring down at me and frowning slightly. "Is something wrong, Mark?" I asked, looking down at my shirt in case there were any incriminating stains on it. He sat down beside me and pulled me into a hug. "I'm glad you've found someone," he whispered in my ear. I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin, and the ghost of a kiss, on my ear, where Cynthia couldn't see. It was so light, I figured my body was over- stimulated and imagining things. "Early days to be saying that," I said, pushing him off, my memory drifting back to James and the incredible things he made my body feel. It was ironic, given how things turned out between James and me, that our relationship would have been the catalyst for what happened next, when I found out that the painful unrequited love I'd kept in that box for years wasn't so unrequited after all, and that somewhere along the line, Mark had fallen in love with me too. = = = = = I looked at the photo again, at Cynthia's smiling face, and told them everything. When I'd finished, their mouths were hanging open like chicks in a nest. It was almost comic. "So that's why they went to Australia?" Lauren said. "To get away from you?" I felt my lip sticking out in a petulant curl. "Of course not. They went because of Cynthia's job, you know that." There were few people left in the restaurant and more wine at the table. The lights were dim but I felt my friends' gazes like spotlights on my face. "I don't know what to say," Lauren said. "That's a first." "And that's it?" I leaned forward and folded my arms on the table. "No. There was the weekend at the Merchant Hotel, just before they left. It was Cynthia's idea. She thought if Mark could get it out of his system, they could move on." Lauren's eyes boggled. I looked at the table and allowed myself to remember. It had only been two years, but it seemed like such a long time ago. Mark's face, hopeful and nervous and sad. Seeing him outside the hotel, cigarette butts all around his feet because I was late. I'd thought about backing out, all through that exhausting day at work. The message was in my phone, all ready to send. I kept looking at it on the drive down, expecting to see a similar message from him. But none came. = = = = = The door closed behind us with a soft click. I rested my palm against the door for a second, feeling the wood warming to my touch. One night, that was all we had. When we re-emerged into the world, the hall would still have a plush red carpet, dim lighting, flecks of gold shining on the dark wallpaper. It would still be raining outside. My car would still be in the car park, still covered in mud from the puddles I'd driven through to get there. But nothing would ever be the same. I eased off my shoes, feeling my feet sink into the carpet. The lights were low. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket near the table. The windows were open, the evening breeze lifting the pale curtain. Behind me, Mark cleared his throat. I put my overnight bag on the dresser and turned to look at him. There was a sadness in his eyes, and it made my stomach clench. "If you're having second thoughts..." I almost hoped he was. I was so nervous I could barely speak. My heart was racing in my chest. I wiped my palms on my jeans and tried to smile. He shook his head and put down his bag. "So how do we do this?" he said. I could tell he was trying not to look at the bed. But his eyes were drawn to it, and then to me. They were almost black in the light. Shrugging, I gestured towards the champagne. "Fancy a drink?" I said. My hands shook as I popped the cork and poured out the champagne. It fizzed up over the glasses and onto the table and I wiped at it with the napkin. In the mirror, I saw him watching me. His hair was almost as long as it had been when we were students, dark and shiny and curly. We clinked our glasses together and drank in silence. When the bottle was finished, he smiled and pulled a joint out of his pocket. "Thought we could have a smoke," he said. "Just like old times." I grinned at him and lay down on the bed, patting the duvet beside me. "Come on then," I said. "Mark, please don't be nervous. Let's just smoke and watch TV for a while, or something." That seemed to relax him a bit and he lay down beside me. He lit up the joint and I flicked on the TV. There was a rugby match on and I left it on the sports channel because I knew he liked it. We propped ourselves up on the pillows and smoked, and at one point, one of the players' shorts got ripped by another one's studs and he had to stand there on the pitch changing his shorts in front of the jeering crowd. It wasn't that funny but I laughed like a loon, glad of an excuse to release the tension. I felt Mark shaking beside me and when I looked at him, his shoulders were going up and down and he was clutching his stomach, helpless with giggles. "Oh man," he said when he caught his breath, "I needed a good laugh." "I'm going to order more drink," I said, rolling off the bed, still laughing. I thought if all I got to do was drink with him and chat, and sleep beside him in the bed, it was still enough for me. I ordered room service and waited for it to be delivered while Mark opened the window and waved the smoke outside, fretting about what the waiter would say. It was a girl, and she said nothing, just looked at me with an amused expression on her face. Mark lay back down on the bed and lit up again and I sipped at my wine, hitting the mute button on the TV to silence the blethering of the pundits. "You know," he said eventually. "We've shared a bed before." He ground his cigarette into the ashtray and set it beside the bed. "My stag night, the time I carried you to bed." I stared at him. "I thought that was a dream." He shook his head. Shifting on the bed, he faced me and looked into my eyes. His finger brushed down the side of my face. "I've loved you for such a long time." I felt the weight of his words pressing on my heart. Taking his face in my hands, I swallowed against the lump in my throat. "That's my line," I murmured, and kissed him then, just lightly on the forehead, then again on the tip of his nose, and by the time I reached his mouth, his eyes were closed and his lips were parted and then I kissed him there. He tasted of champagne and tobacco and his lips were soft and dry. His fingers were stroking the back of my neck and the kiss just went on, warm and intense and beautiful. My whole body started to throb as our tongues met and I sighed and slipped my hand under his shirt, feeling the muscles of his stomach flutter. With our faces inches apart, we unbuttoned each other's shirts. His fingertips brushed against my skin and I felt warmth flooding from my heart all around my body. When we were both naked he threw the bedcovers back and pushed me down onto my back. The flickering light from the TV lit up his skin in soft hues of green and blue. He kissed me again and then wrapped his arms around me. We made spoons under the duvet and he nuzzled his nose into my hair. "You have no idea how much I've dreamt about this," he whispered. I lay there, achingly hard, feeling his strong body pressing against mine. The silent endearments against my ear made me tingle. He stroked my hair and kissed the nape of my neck, grazing his teeth lightly over my skin. My head swam with alcohol and dreams and I drifted off in a happy haze, belatedly realising how tired I was. He stroked my hair and murmured in my ear, and it was warm and safe and wonderful. Sometime in the night I woke up. The room was in darkness. Mark's arms were still wrapped around me only something was different. His breath was hot in my ear and his cock was rock hard and wet against my back. He sucked my earlobe into his mouth then whispered "Are you awake?" His finger found my nipple and teased it into a hard point. "Yeah," I whispered back and he shifted and I rolled onto my back. He slid on top of me and my legs parted as he kissed me again, not soft like before but hungry, and I felt my cock slowly stiffen as he rubbed his body against me and his hands clasped in mine, holding them over my head against the starchy hotel sheets. "Mark," I gasped, "turn on the light." The room glowed red from the lampshade as he knelt between my legs and his eyes were dark, searching my face. He touched my chest, rubbed my nipple, and I felt a jolt in my dick. He brushed his fingertips down my torso and then followed them with his mouth and tongue, breathing hot breath over the licks. I pushed my fingers into his hair and sighed. He forced my legs further apart and settled down, looking at my swollen prick and then up at my face with a glint in his eye and a faint smile. Then he put out his tongue and trailed it along the shaft from root to tip, barely touching my skin. He sucked on his fingers for a second and then went back to torturing my cock with those nearly there licks, and then sank his fingers inside me, finding my happy button and rubbing over it and the sharp sensation robbed me of any remaining sense. "Oh fuck!" was all I could say, and then he lifted my cock into his mouth and sucked slowly up and down. The heat and wetness of his mouth, the wet flicks of his tongue and the burrowing fingers and the knowledge that it was Mark doing this to me, Mark who I'd loved since the first time I'd seen him- I was at the point of orgasm before I could catch a breath, and then he suddenly stopped and sat back. His breathing was rapid, his cock pointing up at his navel. I pointed at my wash bag on the dresser and he got the lube out and applied it like an expert, then he lay on top of me so that we were touching almost everywhere, my legs against his, our cocks rubbing together, his forehead resting against mine. I closed my eyes as he ground against me and then I felt the heat of his stiff dick slipping down between my cheeks. "Oh god," I moaned and then he kissed me and I raised my hips and lifted my legs up and the tip of his cock pressed against my hole. He broke the kiss and looked into my eyes as he pushed inside me and I held his gaze, wordlessly telling him with all my heart, I love you. I stroked his back as he began to move. Neither of us had the flat hard bellies we'd once had, and the friction of his skin against my cock took my breath as he kissed me again and then I hooked my legs around him. He moved slowly and I felt every breath, every inch of him sliding in and out of me, heard every soft moan, and the leisurely pace had me hovering on the edge of orgasm for what seemed like hours. When I finally came it felt like the air was squeezed out of my lungs by the force of the orgasm that fountained through my body, starting from my spurting cock and shooting up my spine into my brain. Then it was his turn and he pumped inside me with a couple of hard thrusts and then crashed down on top of me as his body jerked and shuddered and he cried out in my ear. I held him there, wrapped in my limbs, and stroked his hair until we were both still. "God," he whispered in my ear, "I think I've gone blind." He rolled off me onto his back and pulled me into his arms. I rested my head on his shoulder and he stroked my hair. His chest was damp with sweat and I traced my finger through the springy hair and around his nipple. "I don't know," I said. "I thought you'd be..." "What?" "Well, let's put it this way, that didn't seem like your first time with a bloke. You hit all the right spots." He laughed. "Well, we did a lot of research." I propped myself up on my elbow, smiling. "Research?" "You know, porn and stuff. And Cyn gave me some tips on, you know, what you liked." "Well," I said. "It was a first time for me." His eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?" The lump was back in my throat. "Having sex with a man I love." "Oh God Chris, don't." He hugged me tight against him and I nuzzled into his neck. "I can't believe you're going." There was a silence. "Let's not talk about that," he said, looking at the alarm clock beside the bed. It was just after three. "We've still got time." = = = = = We were the last group in the restaurant by then. I didn't tell them about what we'd done, how perfectly my body had fitted against Mark's when he allowed me to make love to him, how my whole world had shrunk to the sound of his voice and the scent of his body and the heat of his body clenching around my prick. It seemed obscene to condense such an incredible night into one sentence, but I managed it, withering a little under Lauren's scrutiny. "Yeah, we did it." I fiddled with my empty glass. "And that's why you fell out?" Aisling said. I shook my head. "We never fell out. I was the one who couldn't deal with it, keeping in touch. And then later, James found out and that was a whole new drama. Then the student came along and well," I waved my hand, "the rest you know." "Wow," Tim said. There was a pause. "So," I said. "Since you were all so keen to know, any advice now? Because if they're coming back, I don't know what the hell I'm going to do." Lauren shrugged. "I guess you'll find out," she said. "Jesus, Chris. What a fucked-up situation." We got the bill and went outside. It was cold and the street was almost deserted. The waiter I'd been ogling was hanging around the door but I wasn't interested any more. Lauren's face was pink and her eyes were glassy. We stood with her while Harrison flagged down a taxi and he held the door open for her like a proper gentlemen. Just before the taxi drove off, she pounced on him and started kissing him, pushing her long fingers into his thick hair. "Just when I thought the world couldn't get any stranger," Tim said, gaping after the taxi. "Someone's going to be embarrassed tomorrow." I remembered Harrison's shiny lips and shuddered. "Each to their own." Tim and Aisling caught a taxi and I stood for a moment on the street, trying to clear my head. I lit up a smoke and scuffed my shoe on the pavement. I didn't want to go home to an empty flat, not now the memory box was open and swimming in champagne. Just as I was about to flag down a taxi, I felt a presence beside me. It was the waiter, a leather jacket slung over his t-shirt and his Calvin Kleins pulled up above the low slung jeans that were just begging to be pulled down. He smiled shyly at me and I saw the glint of the tongue piercing. I grinned back at him as the taxi pulled over. "Come on then," I said, and he got in beside me. = = = = = My waiter's tongue was not the only part of him that was pierced and when he left me early the next morning, I was almost boneless with exhaustion and pleasure, lying on my bed in all the wet patches that had formed throughout the night as my prostate had become aquainted with the metal ring in his cock. He kissed me on the cheek and gave me a wink. "See you again, lover," he said, and I waved feebly as he went out. Then my mobile rang. It was Lauren, with a bad case of the blackout cringes. "Please tell me I didn't say anything really stupid," she begged. "Or really, really tactless. I know you were talking about Cynthia and Mark and all that." "How's Harrison?" I couldn't help asking, and there was a silence on the other end of the line. "Actually," she said, "he's still here. Making me a fry, as a matter of fact. Do you know, Chris, I might just keep him for a while. Some of these country boys pack a decent piece of equipment, if you know what I mean." Not wanting to imagine Harrison's equipment, I told her about my waiter and was embarrassed to admit I hadn't asked his name. "He's twenty three," I told Lauren. "A postgraduate student. Feel free to circulate that information, by the way." She chuckled. "Trying to make someone jealous?" "I don't think someone would be jealous at all." "We can but try," she said, before she hung up. Two minutes later a text came from her. Check ur email. Meant to tell u arrival info of cyn etc. Luv xxx So they were coming in two weeks time once the tenants had moved out of their house. The kids weren't keen to leave their sunny new life but Cynthia was itching to come home and I read the last sentence of Lauren's email over and over. Cyn says she hasn't seen Mark so happy in ages. Two weeks. = = = = = My waiter was a reasonable distraction for a few days at least, but he had far too much energy and bodily fluid to expel and his constant horniness tired me out. When we weren't shagging I found his conversation dull and centered on football and reality TV shows that I didn't watch. I hadn't heard of the bands he liked and wasn't interested in the gadgets he was saving up for. Ironically, he was there the night that James called, armed with a bunch of flowers and looking sheepish. His eyes widened as my waiter- his name was Gary, or Gavin or something- crept past with his shoes in his hand and flashed me a wink as he went off down the hall. "You're doing all right for yourself," James said, and handed me the flowers. I stepped aside to let him in. "Not really," I said. "He was wearing me out. Think that'll be it, to be honest." The flowers were roses, different shades of pink and peach. "What's all this in aid of?" He sighed. "I wanted to say sorry." I watched him running his finger over the surface of my bookshelves, checking for dust. The familiar gesture gave me a sad clutch in my chest. He was wearing his work suit, and it clung to his powerful body in all the right ways. His tie had a picture of Mickey Mouse on the front and I knew he wore it to annoy his boss. I caught myself smiling in the mirror, and quickly smoothed it off my face.