Fireside Romance Book 3: Heating Up

Chapter 1 “You found us okay?” Tom asked, wrapping me in a huge bear hug. “It’s great to see you both again.” He let go of me and enveloped Mark. “The directions you gave us were spot on,” Mark mumbled into Tom’s wide shoulder. “Come in, come in,” Cliff told us when Tom had released Mark. We were ushered into a beautifully decorated hallway. The walls were a delicate green with darker green coving above. I wasn’t much of an interior designer, but even I could tell this room was stunning. “Let me take your coats, and then we’ll give you the grand tour,” Tom said. The décor and furniture in the rest of the house were just as amazing, but still had a masculine feel. “Your house is wonderful,” Mark said once we were situated in the kitchen with cups of coffee. “It’s all his doing,” Tom said as he wrapped an arm around his mate. “I wouldn’t know my duck egg blue from my dusky pink.” “We don’t have any pink paint,” Cliff protested. “Thank God.” Tom laughed at him. “It’s a pity you couldn’t bring young Sam with you,” he continued. “As you know, the school year is well under way now, it’s his O-level year, and his parents said he had to knuckle down for the weekend,” I told them. “I bet that went down like a dose of clap in a nunnery.” Tom chuckled. Cliff grimaced at his partner’s choice of words, causing Mark and me to laugh. “No, he wasn’t best pleased.” Mark sighed. “But he has to spend time with his mum, dad and baby sister.” “And his textbooks,” I added, realising too late I was sounding like an old fuddy-duddy. Tom laughed. “Poor lad.” The conversation moved on to other topics. Cliff, a high school history teacher, spent a few minutes discussing the new intake of students, the rest of us recalling how we felt on our first day in high school. “I love the view from the guest bedroom window,” I said. “All those rolling hills and the church on that little rise at the edge of the village. Just like a picture postcard.” “Yes. We’re very lucky,” Cliff nodded. “But apart from the local shop and post office, a pub, and the church, there isn’t much else in the way of facilities. A car is pretty much an essential.” “It’s a bloody pain when it snows, though. The snowplough doesn’t get out this far.” “I hadn’t thought of that,” Mark said. “I guess there are a few advantages to living in a town.” “Are the villagers gay-friendly?” I asked. “Not sure,” Tom said. “We’re not out to many…and if any more have guessed, they haven’t made an issue out of it.” We all grew quiet then, but it was a comfortable quiet. My mind travelled back a couple of months to when we’d first met up on holiday. I remembered my first rather terrifying encounter with Tom. He’d overheard a conversation in the hotel reception area which had pretty much outed Mark and me. I feared he’d be a homophobe. I knew we’d come off second best in any show of strength, because the man is, well, huge. But my fears had soon proved groundless, and we had quickly begun to forge a strong friendship. I also remembered—how could I forget—the night my awesome Mark proposed to me on that beach. Tom and Cliff had volunteered to put Sam up in their apartment for that night to allow Mark and me greater privacy. Despite my overwhelming emotions I had been uneasy about that; after all, we had only known Tom and Cliff for a week, but Mark had telephoned Paul and Helen the previous evening to ask them if it would be okay. It had been a warm night. Mark and I took the cushions from the sofa and laid them out on the balcony to make love by the light of the moon and stars. We slowly undressed each other, each taking a piece of clothing off the other and kissing the skin that we’d just uncovered. Once fully naked, I took both Mark’s hands in mine and spent an eternity gazing into the depths of his soul through his beautiful eyes. The slight Mediterranean breeze whispered its caress against our skin. Eventually our faces grew closer and we gave each other long, passionate, and soulful kisses. “I need you,” I whispered. “Soon, love.” Mark and I sank down to the cushions and arranged ourselves in the classic sixty-nine position. We slowly licked around each other’s manhood, teasing the heads of each other’s c***s with our lips and tongues. Mark demonstrated a few techniques to me that I gratefully copied on him. Then, before either of us got too excited, Mark brought himself round to face me. We lay there kissing and stroking each other, just enjoying being close. Mark traced a path with his tongue down to my navel. He teased me there before going lower, round my d**k, and, taking each of my balls into his mouth separately, treating me to a tongue bath. His humming sent indescribable pleasures through my body. Before I got too aroused, though, his tongue continued its journey to my love hole. He spent an age teasing me with his tongue. I had to put a pillow over my face a few times to stop my cries of pleasure being broadcast to our neighbours. Then, despite my protests, Mark removed his tongue. “I’m going to open you up now, beautiful man,” he whispered, squeezing some gel onto a finger. He circled his digit around my hole, slowly adding pressure. Once he was inside, I tensed; Mark remained still until I relaxed again. He began an awesome massage of my prostate; I had to use the pillow again. He bent down and took my achingly hard prick into his mouth. He moved expertly up and down my shaft while continuing to massage with his finger. Mark brought me to the brink several times. I had divided emotions about this; I hated him for not letting me come, but I also loved him for loving me as he was doing. He stopped me on the brink yet again; I snarled at him to finish me off. I tried to reach my d**k and do it myself, but he slapped my hand away. “No. When you eventually come, I want it to be the best experience you’ve ever had.” I’d received—thanks to Mark—so many wonderful experiences that night, I wasn’t sure my brain could cope with another. In truth, he’d never teased me before enough to give me blue balls, so, impossible as it seemed, I had to lie back and let my lover do what he wanted with me. Mark coated a second finger with the gel and inserted it. He soon had a third join the first two. When I was stretched sufficiently I begged him to enter me. It had become part of our lovemaking for the passive partner to roll the condom onto the other’s c**k, so Mark handed me the foil packet. After adding more lube to my stretched opening, Mark placed a folded pillow under the base of my spine. He lifted my legs, put my heels on his shoulders, and positioned himself for entry. “Now, love!” I said. Mark entered me a little more quickly than I was used to. I felt some pain, but I managed to keep smiling. The very first time he’d penetrated me, I was a virgin, and we hadn’t taken enough time to prepare. I hadn’t been able to hold in my cry. Immediately Mark had pulled out. “I can’t do this,” he’d said, sniffing back tears. I’d cupped his face in my hands. “Making love to someone should be beautiful. It can’t be about causing pain.” I’d caressed his face, my heart overflowing with love for this beautiful and gentle man. “I know you would never, could never, intentionally hurt me.” “Most of the men I was forced to go with were cold, unfeeling…all they cared about was sticking it in, getting off, and pulling out.” Mark had winced. I had then kissed Mark’s lips. He didn’t often talk about his time on the streets; it was too painful. “Their only concern was their own pleasure. Which, in a way, suited me because I felt dirty if I got any pleasure from what they did.” Mark had returned the kiss. “At last I had a chance to show real love, and all I’ve done is hurt you.” I held him in my arms so tightly that night; spoke tenderly to him, trying to ease his worries, and I’d promised him he hadn’t hurt me that much. We had to wait for another evening to try again. Mark just couldn’t do it then. So I was relieved that here, out on the balcony in Menorca, he hadn’t spotted my momentary discomfort. Due to his earlier attention to my d**k, I didn’t last long with him inside me. I tried all the tricks Mark had taught me to defocus, but he was too good a lover for them to work for long. I shot load after load of cream over the pair of us. Mark held still inside me, trying to prevent his own orgasm. But he’d done such a number on me, my spasms around his d**k caused him to fire off his own climax into the rubber. Mark was right; I’d never had an orgasm like it. I just clung to him; I couldn’t have moved even if the building had been on fire. We lay spent, wrapped in each other’s arms, slowly coming down from our union. The songs of the crickets and cicadas, combined with the whooshing sound of the waves from the nearby beach, accompanied our gradual return to earth. I looked up at the winking stars, too many to count. I couldn’t help thinking as I gazed into the heavens, that I held the most perfect piece of that heaven in my arms. “My beautiful Mark,” I said, breaking the silence that had fallen between us, “thank you. Thank you for being my lover, my soul mate, for caring for me, for wanting to marry me. Mark, I don’t have the words to tell you how deeply I love you.” He responded by giving me a gentle, tender kiss. We made love several more times that night. Neither of us wanted the special time to end. However, exhaustion finally overcame us, and just as the first rays of light began to dawn in the eastern sky, we drifted off to sleep on the balcony, wrapped tightly in each other’s embrace. * * * * “Earth to Simon, come in, Simon.” Mark’s voice cut in on my memories. I was back in Tom and Cliff’s kitchen. “Ah, sorry, I was a million miles away…well, a few thousand.” “Judging by your wistful smile I bet it had something to do with that Friday night in Menorca?” Cliff said. “Yeah.” I sighed. “It was pretty romantic,” Tom said. “I had no idea Mark had such a beautiful voice,” Cliff added. “I was born with it.” Mark shrugged. “I haven’t had much training. Mum sent me for some singing lessons, but they didn’t last long.” “We should take you to the King George. It’s a really nice gay-friendly pub about twenty minutes’ drive from here.” Tom told us. “There’ll be a pianist on tonight. You’ll love it.” “They do a pretty decent bar meal, too.” Cliff added. I tensed. The last gay establishment we’d been in—the nightclub in Leeds—hadn’t proved to be particularly enjoyable for me. I had been roundly ignored, even pushed out of the way, while everyone flocked around Mark. “Okay,” I said, masking my inner feelings…or so I thought. Mark and I went upstairs to get ready. We were told to remain casual; it wasn’t a dressy place. “Will you be all right?” Mark asked me. I smiled and tried to loosen up. It would be fine. Mark gave me a hug. “What did I do to land a great man like you? Not to mention one who’s handsome, sexy, funny—” He kissed me on the nose. “Silly. It’s just a pub, not a nightclub, but if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll ask them to bring us back.” “Have I told you today how much I love you?” I asked. “Erm…let me think.” Mark creased his brow in mock concentration. I tapped his arm. He laughed.