Every Dawn With You (Fist To The Heart Side Story, Patreon Exclusive)) (Patreon)

Author's note: Hey guys, here is another Patreon exclusive extra that I wrote, this time, for Fist To The Heart. Kate suggested it, and I already had some ideas floating in my head, so here is Douglas's and Martin's story. I hope you will all enjoy it!

Every Dawn With You

The woman was moving on top of him, in rhythmic, relentless moves. Douglas squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Hey, look at me,” the woman said and caught his chin. 

He obeyed without a word. She smiled, but there was something crooked in how she did that. With firm hands, she dragged his to her hips. The gossamer material slid under his fingers, giving him a small shiver.

As hard as he tried, there was barely half an erection what he could manage. Without a doubt, she had to be disappointed, and she wasn’t the only one. Douglas looked away from her beautiful face. She was aesthetically pleasing, without a doubt, but her beauty and famous sex appeal did nothing for him.

It wasn’t her fault. Douglas let his eyes slid away from her, and through the half-opened door, he caught a glimpse of pale buttocks moving to and fro, sinking between two slender legs. In that den of iniquity, there was no shame in taking voyeuristic pleasure. The man moving on top of the unseen woman had strong, muscular thighs, and Douglas watched in fascination as he fucked. 

“Hmm, finally,” his female partner murmured.

His cock was finally hard; that must have been what she meant by that. Douglas pressed his fingers into her hips, his eyes drawn to the man in the other room, to the way his muscles flexed as his moves became frantic, shorter. Finally, his buttocks pulled themselves tight, and Douglas came almost at the same time with him.

His partner moved away, pulling her gown around her slender body. With studied gestures, she picked a long cigarette from her purse and lit it. She watched him through the curtain of smoke as she blew it toward him. Her eyes were inquisitive. “Many consider me a sort of prize.”

Douglas pushed his spent cock inside his pants and stood up from the chair. “For all the right reasons,” he offered courteously. “You are extremely beautiful, Odette.”

She smirked. “Such a gentleman. You paid a lot of money for this.” She gestured vaguely as if he had suddenly decided to buy the place. 

“Thank you,” Douglas said.

Odette let out a short, strange laugh. “You’re welcome. Although I have no clear idea of what you could be thankful for. Clearly, you weren’t here while we went at it.”

“I must apologize.” Douglas straightened up his tie and patted his pockets for no reason. “A lot has been going on lately.”

“Rumor has it that you inherited a fortune. Was it a shock – your parents passing away?”

Yes, at twenty-seven, he was the sole heir to what could be considered a sizable fortune.

“My mother died fifteen years ago. My father’s death wasn’t that much of a shock, in the sense that he had been ill for a long time.”

“Still, you lost your father,” Odette pointed out.

“We weren’t close,” Douglas said, and, to his ears, that sounded like an apology.

Odette shrugged. “I haven’t seen my folks in years, and it’s not like I miss them. It is what it is, right?”

Douglas nodded shortly. An unpleasant sensation of suffocation was creeping in; he wanted to be out of there. 

“You know, Douglas, I double as a confidante rather well.”

“That’s good, I suppose.”

“I’m not just saying it.” Odette blew more bluish smoke, making it dance toward the ceiling. “I can keep a secret.”

“I don’t have secrets,” Douglas said and put one hand into his pocket. There was a small lighter there, and he remembered he wanted to offer it as a gift for her. He took it out. “I heard a lot about what a chain smoker you are.”

Odette took the offered lighter and watched it carefully. “Exquisite craftsmanship.”

“It’s supposed to be unique. I can’t truly vouch for that.”

She caressed the golden surface and the intricate lines making a lion’s head. “It’s beautiful. I’ll keep it.”

Douglas offered her a polite smile. “I should be on my way.”

“For the price you paid, you could sleep here,” Odette said.

Douglas threw a short look toward the half-opened door to the other room. The man must have left already, and there was no sign of the woman, either. “It’s pretty animated here, isn’t it?”

“We could just close the door. Although,” Odette said as she moved slowly toward him, “it would be a shame if we did that, right?”

Douglas stepped aside, retreating from her touch as if stung. “I really should go.”

Odette caught him by the arm. “To thy own self be true, Douglas. Consider it a piece of friendly advice.”

He didn’t reply this time. She caressed his arm in passing and kissed him on the cheek. Then she brought the cigarette to her lips and turned her back on him. Could it be that she had guessed, that one thing not even he was sure what it meant?

***

“It is rather peculiar to have so much money and no wife.”

Douglas linked his fingers together and crossed his legs. His lawyer was watching him across the desk. “Why so? Seeing how rich I am, I should enjoy my freedom.”

“Should. A strong word. People like to gossip a lot, Douglas,” Murray said, his eyes never leaving him. “That you spend quite a bit of money on loose, easy women.”

“It is my right to do so, and seeing how I am young, I believe I’m allowed a few indiscretions. By the way, when you say people, you do mean my relatives, don’t you?”

Murray smiled. “It’s not their business. But people in this family tend to consider me the go-to individual when something is not as they like.”

“I am taking care of everyone. Isn’t it enough?”

“They say they care about your reputation.”

“Reputation.” Douglas pursed his lips. “This family makes money by taking advantage of people’s vices. It’s hard to believe that I should be a pillar of society. My profligate lifestyle should be of no concern to them.”

Murray laughed. “Still. It’s just something your father liked to project. It appears to me that you are trying a bit too hard to prove otherwise.”

“I won’t marry just for the sake of stopping gossip among my relatives. As for the rest of the world, they could just all go to hell.”

“Hmm, why the repressed anger, Douglas?”

Why was everyone so interested in what he felt or thought these days? 

“It doesn’t matter.” Murray waved like it indeed was nothing. “You’re in a position that allows you many things. Maybe you should act more on what your heart tells you. With your father gone, there is no one to stop you from doing so. I know he was a rigid man.”

“More like a pious bastard, once he realized he wouldn’t get well,” Douglas said with a thin smile.

“I trust you to take good care of business, Douglas. As for your relatives, I’ll just tell them what you want me to. After all, it is from your hand that they’re all eating.”

“You shouldn’t bother. I see that they don’t have the nerve to pester me directly. Why are they interested in learning whether I have intentions to marry or not?”

“They may suffer from the same affliction as your father: sudden piety.”

“Are they all dying?”

Murray laughed. “If only. No, they just want to find a wife for you, if what my research tells me is true. Someone they can manipulate and have working in their favor.”

“That will not happen in a million years,” Douglas replied. “Well, I have no intention to marry. Not now, and not in the foreseeable future, either.”

“It’s a good decision. If your relatives might not throw a gold digger at you, others might just throw themselves on their own accord. Your decision is wise.”

“You seem pleased with it,” Douglas noticed.

“Why should I not? I may be your lawyer, but I’m also your friend. You’re not the kind to marry.”

That was an odd thing to say. Douglas looked at Murray, trying to read something in his lawyer’s demeanor. There seemed to be nothing there to read, though. 

***

It wasn’t a good place for someone of his station to be, but Douglas could not care less. His relatives aside, the veiled allusions made by Odette and his lawyer were bringing up hidden thoughts, thoughts he believed had to be buried forever. 

Maybe Murray thought he was running wild, throwing money at women like Odette, hungry for a life free of restrictions. His relatives mostly thought he was spending money they would have instead spent in his stead.

And Odette … the source of the turmoil in his head right now was linked to those last words she had thrown at him.

To thy own self be true? Obviously, Odette was no ordinary working girl. To quote Hamlet couldn’t be part of her job description. She was not ordinary at all. Mostly, she could be considered an artist, a belly dancer, sometimes a performer, someone who, indeed, fascinated him, but not in a sexual way. It was true that many considered her a prize; not many could brag about having been let into her bed.

Technically, he hadn’t been there, either. She had just straddled him while he sat on a chair, and worked him, while he watched another man, and let his fantasies run free just for the sake of not making a complete fool of himself by not managing to ejaculate.

At first, he had considered his lack of attraction for women some strange fluke, just another shortcoming he needed to deal with. The realization that he was, in fact, quite a sexual creature, but only when under the most unnatural circumstances, had come as the sort of truth he didn’t want to think of.

Instinctively, he had withdrawn from it, afraid, deep down in his gut, that someone would notice or guess it. Odette might have realized it, with her shrewd intelligence, but she hadn’t said the words directly. Douglas wasn’t sure he wanted to hear that being said back to him.

It was a secret not to be handled at all, not with tentative hands, not even with a simple look. It needed to be buried and stay that way.

Then why was he here? Murray was right. There was repressed anger inside him, and he needed to work it out. His shortcomings, his flaws had to be worked out of him, driven out of him, cut with a scalpel if there was no other way. 

***

A few men threw him curious looks as he found his way through the crowd. Even in the plainest clothes, he seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. The long corridor he entered was damp and smelled faintly of mildew. Without one ounce of hesitation, he knocked on a door.

“What do you want?” the man inside barked at him as he let himself in.

His hands were busy splitting some money, making tall towers and patting them with satisfaction.

“How would you like to make some extra cash?”

The man watched him and stopped caressing his stash. “Do you want me to arrange some fight for you?”

“I want to get into the ring,” Douglas said directly.

The man measured him up and down. “And arrange that you win.”

Douglas shook his head. “No.”

Now the man cocked his head and stared at him like he was a lunatic. “You look like a rich man. A bit too pretty to be in a place like this if you ask me.”

A smirk accompanied the last remark. 

Douglas shrugged and took out the money he brought from his pocket. He threw it on the desk. Greedy hands reached for it and started counting. 

“Well?” Douglas asked.

“I don’t think I have anyone that would be close to your size. We only work with big boys here.”

“That’s all right. The bigger, the better,” Douglas said.

The man rubbed one ear, grimaced, and seized the money between his thumb and his index, evaluating the thickness of the wad as if he hadn’t just counted it earlier. “You sure you want to get messed up? I could arrange something. You could walk out of here the winner.”

“I don’t want that. I want a clean fight.”

The man grinned. “Weird place to ask for something like that.”

“What? Are all your matches decided in advance?”

“No. We need some for show, too,” the man replied. 

“So you do have fighters who don’t throw matches. Put me with one of them.”

The man scratched his head, made a move to count the money again, and then seemed decided. “All right. But this guy will send you to the floor fast. You’re a skinny bastard.”

Douglas grimaced, but it wasn’t his place to correct the man or his language.

“Are you sure you’re all right with picking your teeth from the floor? You might not look as handsome as you’re now after the guy wipes the floor with you.”

“I don’t particularly care about that.”

The man shrugged. “To each their own, I suppose. Swing by tomorrow night. This stays here,” he placed one fat hand over the cash Douglas had given him.

“Of course.”

He turned on his heels to leave.

“Can I give you some advice?” the man called at his retreating back.

Everybody was in the mood to give him that these days. He half-turned.

“Be a no show tomorrow. No one will know, and you’ll get to keep all your teeth.”

***

Many would have found it odd to learn about his ways of dealing with repressed anger, as Murray had put it. They might have said that it was too cold, too calculated. What sane man could schedule a fight so that he could get thrashed inside a ring hours in advance? 

Anger was supposed to burn bright and fizzle fast. A brawl in a bar, a punch thrown to a wall. But Douglas was not that kind of man.

This was what he wanted, to be cold, to be calculated, and to be able to throw in a few punches before he would most probably be taken down and dragged away, maybe not in one piece. Then he would call himself a man, and he would see to the flukes of his character in the only way he knew how.

“You came,” the man from before welcomed him. 

He nodded shortly. “I have my equipment here.” He tapped on the bag he wore on one shoulder.

“You don’t have something hidden in those gloves, do you?”

Douglas shook his head. “I want a clean fight.”

The man shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

***

Douglas stepped into the ring, ignoring the shouts. He blocked everything, sure that most of what the audience was yelling were aimed at him and not at all flattering. He was there for only one thing, which could be called retribution against his own self.

He jumped a few times up and down, warming up. From the opposite corner, a man stood up and walked toward him. Douglas took him in with unhidden interest. He was a tall man and had at least a few inches on him. His face was imperturbable, but his eyes were measuring Douglas in turn, too. If he was surprised in regards to his opponent, he didn’t show it.

Douglas felt a small surge of anger growing inside his chest. This man was everything he wasn’t; he was an embodiment of masculinity, with firm, large hands, a face cut in granite, and, above all, he carried himself with the poise of someone who knew he couldn’t be easily defeated.

He surely didn’t have troubles getting it up when in bed with a beautiful woman, Douglas thought, trying to fuel his anger with vulgarities. The referee made them come closer. Douglas stared into the man’s eyes and snarled, showing his teeth. That mountain of a man didn’t look impressed and, for once in his life, Douglas wanted to be taken seriously, as a man, not as someone who had to do others’ bidding.

They stepped back, and the referee whistled. Douglas went straight at the other, decided to make his intentions known. His opponent dodged swiftly and moved around, without hitting back.

Douglas set his jaw hard. Was this man trying to make a fool of him? He followed the other, determined to land at least one punch. For his size, the man was quick on his feet. 

It wasn’t like Douglas was some novice. He had boxed for years, and he knew the sport in and out. It was true that except for some friendly sparring, he had never gone against an opponent.

Definitely, not one like that. Douglas shook his head, to push a few strands of rebellious hair away from his forehead. He examined his opponent again; his chest was marvelous, hard muscles everywhere, and Douglas almost lost his bearings for a moment. 

That wasn’t the right moment to fantasize about a man’s body. He was there to get rid of those thoughts, to prove himself. His anger flared and went at the other again. To his surprise, the man tied him up and kept him close. Douglas could feel his hot breath on his cheek and saw himself as a ridiculous, a sorry excuse of a man, as his cock got hard right away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man said into his ear.

The referee broke them apart. Douglas frowned and watched the other. Good thing his shorts were large; the last thing he needed was to be humiliated in front of an audience. Could it be that his opponent had guessed what was going on with him?

It was hard to believe that. He waited this time; sooner or later, the other had to make a move on him, or else he would make sure to ask for his money back. He had paid for something else.

His opponent took him by surprise, aiming low. That wasn’t very orthodox. He should have gone for the face. But, in a way, it had been a clever call on his part, as Douglas sucked in a breath, as the man’s punch ended up straight into his ribs. 

It was funny in a way to have survived a round against a man like that, as the referee sent them to their corners. Across the ring, Douglas watched the other with interest. He was handsome, in a stern, restrained way, and Douglas needed to stop thinking that. His face gave nothing away, as his steely eyes set on Douglas hard. 

He felt slightly unnerved by that look. It was time to go back for another round. Maybe the match was thrown, regardless of his specific request. The only thing that mattered was probably when he would go down, and the stakes were high at that moment. Was it the second round? The third?

He would find out soon. This time, he tried a different tactic, pelting his opponents with punches from both sides. Maybe he was shorter and lighter on his feet, but that could be an advantage, too.

The man stepped back, maybe a little surprised at the attack. For just one moment, Douglas let himself dragged with the flow and paid for it. His opponent’s punch found the same bruised ribs and hit him again.

He doubled over and fell to his knees. The referee hurried to him, but he waved. He was fine, he was damned fine, and now he could feel like they finally got somewhere with this. 

Next thing he knew, he was tied up again. 

“Just give up,” the man said into his ear again, and, for a moment, Douglas thought his opponent’s lips had caressed his skin in passing.

He must have imagined it; his cock didn’t think the same, but all that testosterone had to be put to other uses. Sex had nothing to do with it; it was the necessity to prevail over the base longings of his body. 

With rancor, he pushed the other back and tried hitting him again. The man’s impassible face was making him see red in front of his eyes. Soon, he would lose his footing and do something stupid, but until then, he was there, he was alive, and he would hit that man at least once.

The referee’s whistle sent them to their corners again. So, it would be during the third round, Douglas thought as he wiped his face with a towel. His chest was rising and falling fast, and, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he needed the rest, clearly more than his opponent who seemed to barely break into a sweat.

Douglas knew he was out of his league. The most unpleasant part of it was what was going on with the lower part of his body. He was reacting to that man, in such a bad way, that for a moment, he thought if it weren’t better to throw in the towel. 

The third round, the man pushed him into the ropes. He towered over him while Douglas made a great effort to guard his face, keeping his elbows close to the body, hoping to protect his bruised ribs, too. But, most of all, he tried not to breathe in the man’s scent, powerful and masculine, making him dizzy with desire, desire he could make no sense of, and didn’t want to understand, to begin with.

This time, his opponent said nothing, choosing to bruise his arms until the referee pulled him back. 

For a moment, Douglas breathed. It was enough for the other to catch him with his guard down. This time, the blow to the chin made his head snap back, and he was soon in free falling.

He didn’t register the fall of his body or the impact he made with the floor. For a moment, maybe two, he blacked out. No, that couldn’t be it. He had much more to give and fight. He rolled on the floor, trying to get up, on one knee, at least.

The referee was counting, shouting on top of him. He saw a pair of boxing shoes stopping inches from his eyes. Despite the rules, his opponent must have come closer. 

“Just stay down,” he heard a voice telling him, and he knew it had to be that man.

“And the winner is … Martin ‘The Butler’ Hoffman!”

Butler? Douglas would have laughed if that pounding in his head had stopped already. That man couldn’t be that. Butlers didn’t know to throw punches like that. What a funny thought.

***

There were lessons to be learned from every experience, and, this time around, Douglas had learned, he liked to believe, the importance of humility. His chin was bruised, and so were his ribs, and he took some peculiar satisfaction in touching the parts that hurt. 

For a while, at home, he had examined his face in the mirror. His regular features didn’t appear marred by the bruise. In fact, the whole thing gave him a sense, satisfaction in a way. The man arranging the fights had called him pretty, he remembered with a grimace. A man at twenty-seven with a fortune to manage shouldn’t have been called that. It made him feel less of a man.

During the fight, he had stood his ground, for as long as he had been capable, and that had to count for something.

Thanks were in order, too. After all, Douglas hadn’t climbed into that ring with a death wish. There was something else, though, something that was telling him that he was interested in more than offer his words of gratitude for being spared. That something was indefinite, and it was for the best to remain that way.

Throughout the night, as he had nursed his wounds on his own, he had thought about that man. Martin Hoffman. The Butler. He laughed and winced when he felt the pain in his ribs flaring up again. What sort of butler could that man be? He felt compelled to ask. It was as good a conversation starter as any other. 

The man had let him know where Martin’s lived and hadn’t commented on it at all. Probably he thought that Douglas wanted to thank Martin for letting him live. And that was the truth.

Martin Hoffman didn’t live in an affluent area of the city, but, despite the overall drab appearance of the neighborhood, the property seemed clean and respectable. He took the stairs to the third floor, although the elevator was in order. His muscles needed the workout, and his nervousness needed an outlet.

The short and stern ‘come in’ that followed his hesitant knock on the door let him know that he hadn’t landed in front of another apartment by accident. 

The single room looked neat, everything put in order, by what he could tell at a glance, a bed arranged in a military manner, the kind to have a coin bounce off the mattress. Martin was seated at a small table, and he was fiddling with some piece of electronic equipment. He was dressed in a light sweater and matching trousers and looked impeccable, despite the sparsely appointed surroundings.

He stood up and took a small bow. “Mr. Kent.”

“Mr. Hoffman,” Douglas said politely. “Apologies for interrupting your evening routine. I can see that you are busy.”

“It is just a pet project. Please, come and have a seat. May I bring you some tea?”

Martin stood up and gathered the tools from the table. Maybe the man’s ring nickname wasn’t off the mark. He seemed too young to be so stiff, maybe in his early thirties, by what Douglas could tell. Yet, it was clear by his measured gait and how he prepared the tea using the small kitchenette attached to the room, that tasks as so far removed from boxing as that weren’t foreign to him.

Martin Hoffman was a mystery, and Douglas felt a strange need to ask who he was, who he truly was. 

He accepted the cup of tea with murmured thanks. 

“Sugar?” Martin came to the table with a sugar cube bowl.

That seemed unreal. They were seated at a small table, in a room that served as a bedroom and a living room in one, but they were having tea with sugar cubes, not the fine-grain type delivered in paper packages.

“Two,” Douglas replied, as he kept hard from shaking his head, or pinching his arm. 

He followed Martin as he elegantly picked the sugar cubes with small tongs and delivered them to Douglas’s cup, without making a splash, but without exaggerated gestures either.. He sat across from him and brought the cup of tea to his lips, as his steely eyes continued to observe Douglas. He took one sip and put down the cup. “My apologies. Should I have known I would have visitors tonight, I would have been better prepared.”

“No, please. I’m the one who must apologize. I came announced.”

For a few moments, they enjoyed their tea. Douglas was beyond impressed. It was damned fine tea, and he could not fathom how come a man who knew such things was engaged in underground boxing matches with the scum of the earth.

“You must wonder why I’m here,” Douglas started, seeing how his host was too polite to ask. “I want to thank you for not hitting me that badly in the ring last night.”

To his surprise, Martin smiled. It should have been unnatural to see that stern man smile, but it became him. He was quite charming, and his stern demeanor, while not completely gone, was softened by that smile.

“No need to thank me. I can see that bruise from here. I’d like to be able to say that I didn’t mean to, but it was the only way to stop you.”

“Stop me?” Douglas asked, watching his host over his cup. 

“From destroying yourself. That look in your eyes, I’ve seen it before.”

The words were spoken in a measured cadence but fell on Douglas’s nerves like a hammer. “What look?”

He put the cup down. There was a sudden small frisson making it impossible for him to hold it. 

“Of a man believing in punishment.”

“What do you know?” Douglas sneered, and the frisson got a bit stronger, his screaming thoughts a bit louder.

“All I know,” Martin said slowly, “is that you climbed into that ring to have your ass handed to you.”

The sudden change of tone made Douglas smile, despite the sensation of ill climbing up his throat, from the pit of his stomach. “I suppose,” he said with a sigh. “Why didn’t you destroy me? When I saw you, I thought I was finished.”

Martin watched him, and something changed in those steely eyes. There was a small fire burning in them, even if it was merely a pale shadow. “I didn’t want to ruin such a handsome face.”

Douglas coughed, his throat suddenly constricting. He pushed his chair back. “I think I should go.”

He couldn’t breathe. He needed to be out of there. 

“Why did you really come here tonight, Mr. Kent?”

He threw Martin a brief look. The fire in his eyes was ember hot now. It couldn’t be, could it? Had Martin felt …

He couldn’t even bring himself to think it. “I really must go. Thank you for the tea. It was exquisite.”

“You barely tasted it,” Martin pointed out.

The double entendre wasn’t lost on Douglas. He put on his coat and headed for the door. His fingers stilled on the handle. Why was he running? Why did he behave like that? Was there an end to this?

Strong arms embraced him from behind, taking him by surprise. He gasped, and his fingers slid from the handle. His hands curled into fists and pressed against the door as his head hung low.

“You came for me, didn’t you?” Martin asked him, in the same calm, almost serene, voice.

How could he be like that when Douglas’s thoughts were nothing but a tangled mess? Martin’s lips touched his ear, feather-light, staying there, without doing anything, just letting him get used to the contact, to the sensation of another’s mouth on him, without any connotation, not yet at least.

Martin moved slowly, taking off his coat. Douglas obeyed, like a child, and said nothing. He stayed by the door, as if he needed to be ready to go through it, to pass the threshold and escape into the world outside, where it was safe, and there was no man to take off his coat, or embrace him, or put his lips next to his ear, like he wanted to tell him a secret. 

He startled, as Martin took his hand and turned him gently. It was safer to close his eyes. Firm lips touched his, and this time, they didn’t stay there idle. Instead, they brushed against his, slowly at first. 

Whose hunger was it first that made them open their mouths and let their tongues explore each other as if they wanted to learn the other’s language and deepest secrets?

It didn’t matter. Douglas felt dizzy, his feet suddenly no longer touching the floor, and it took him a second to realize that he was lifted off the ground, and it was like he was floating, as Martin took him across the room and placed him on the neatly arranged bed.

He stared at the ceiling, as Martin unbuttoned his waistcoat. He enjoyed every second of it, those steady fingers barely touching him, Martin’s eyes on him, now filled with warmth and a dark-burning fire letting him know he wasn’t alone. 

“Have you ever been with a man?” Martin asked.

Douglas covered his eyes with both hands. “No,” he breathed out.

Martin’s fingers paused, and Douglas wanted to shout at him to continue, to not leave him hanging, not like this. 

“I will be gentle,” Martin said, and his fingers resumed their work, now busy pulling at his belt.

“No need for that,” Douglas murmured. “Maybe I do seek punishment, after all.”

“That you will not get from me.”

“What will I get?” Douglas asked, his thirst for an answer intensified by the sensation of calloused fingers pulling his cock out of his pants. That thing was hard and unyielding, as it had been from the second Martin had put his hands on him.

“Pleasure. Only pleasure, I promise you.”

Who was this stranger? How could he let him do that? All reasonable train of thought stopped to a halt as Douglas felt something warm and moist covering his cock. He risked a look down. Martin’s hand was gripping his cock at the base, and he was busy making it disappear into his mouth over and over again.

From such a stern, calculated man, Douglas would have expected something else. Definitely not a blowjob, but now that they had reached that tipping point, he could say that Martin’s burning eyes, flicking at him from time to time while his mouth did marvelous things to him, were the surprise he hadn’t been prepared for.

Martin used his free hand to sneak it under Douglas’s shirt, his rough touch a blessing. Douglas didn’t want this to be soft and pleasant. He wanted it to be hard and raw, and make him see his true self, once and for all.

Rough fingers found one nipple and pinched it hard. That was more like it. He arched into that touch, to let Martin know he wanted that, oh, please, more ... His wish was granted. Martin was increasing the pressure on his cock, as his hand got harder on his nipple, pulling at it.

Martin was, apparently, a man of many talents. Douglas could not remember an encounter when he had had his cock sucked like that. Martin had promised him pleasure. This was pleasure, deep and dark, and his hips were pushing upward in short thrusts, his muscles and tendons and every fiber of this being taut and in need of release.

That didn’t wait long. Martin kept him down, sucking his cock to full completion until Douglas was sure that his balls had to be dry and that there wasn’t one last drop of cum left in them.

He registered with latency that Martin was undressing him, pulling the shoes off and then his trousers. Was he okay with that? For this night, he was; he was okay with everything even if it meant he would lose his soul tomorrow.

Martin loomed above him, large and hard. It was like a stone wall moving toward him. He let go a gasp, as Martin pushed his knees up and began rubbing against him, still clothed.

“Aren’t you going to undress?”

“Soon,” came the terse reply.

Martin kissed him, hard and demanding this time. It was like he knew what Douglas needed. It was this kind of real surrender he yearned for. He grabbed Martin’s shoulders, to steady himself, to check if it was indeed happening.

He was where he wanted to be. The world could remain behind that door this single night.

For a while, Martin pressed his clothed erection against his spent cock, making him dizzy with his kisses. When Martin released his mouth to bite his neck hard, he voiced his protest. “Weren’t you well-mannered?” he asked, between the gasps of pleasure, as Martin licked, kissed, and sucked at the same point on his neck that began to feel tingly.

“Are my table manners that atrocious?” Martin chuckled, sending a small jolt of pleasure down his spine.

“I am surprised. You seem so ... put together.”

Martin didn’t offer a reply this time. Instead, he stood up and began undressing. Ah, the put-together man was still there, Douglas thought as he watched Martin’s short, efficient gestures. He pushed himself up on his elbows to look at him. That muscular body would be on top of him soon, Martin would penetrate him, and he would be ... What would he be? And where?

Martin didn’t allow him to let his thoughts wander and pulled him by the ankles, making him move toward the edge of the bed. “Stay like this,” he ordered shortly.

Douglas wondered for a moment whether he looked ridiculous, half undressed, his legs spread, his ass almost hanging out. Martin returned, and Douglas winced as something viscous and cold was spread around his hole. 

“I must apologize,” Martin said politely.

Unlike the short first move that caught him imbalanced. Douglas had registered, mostly by the corner of one eye, the size of Martin’s tool, a bit on the impressive side, on par with the man’s stature. He hadn’t stared, and that seemed now like an overlook on his part. He would have been warned for what happened now.

Martin kissed him again and returned to the rough torture of his nipples. If he intended to make Douglas forget about the impressive tool knocking at his backdoor, it wasn’t that bad a plan. Douglas gasped and writhed as Martin made himself room inside his body, moving as needed, stopping when it was too much, with infinite patience, but without forgetting his goal.

He breathed out and in, tears of exertion at the corners of his eyes, as he tried to ignore the sensation of being impaled. His cock was twitching, despite the pain. That had to be a good sign, no matter how contradictory his thoughts were. 

Martin didn’t allow him to hesitate or rethink his position, and crowded him with kisses, pressing him down with the weight of his body. Douglas grabbed him by the arms, and soon, he began following the shape of those fantastic muscles. He could know and learn this man, with the tip of his fingers.

A short move, a bit more forceful, made him forget what he was thinking of. There was something raw and intense in how Martin’s cock felt inside him. Martin began moving, and the short relief was replaced by the sensation of invasion once again. Yet, this time, something was new. Douglas knew about the mechanics of anal sex. He had read about it, watched movies in secret, but experiencing it first hand was a completely different thing.

It was like his entire body was opening up, to receive the other. Their bodies connected, the tip of Martin’s cock, and his own point of peak pleasure, the thing responsible for how his cock throbbed again, in need of being touched. 

He expressed his pleasure through sharp moans, gasps, and grunts during the few moments Martin allowed him to breathe. Martin pushed inside him relentlessly, and it was so different, so remote from how Odette had moved on top of him, like other women before, women he had tried to love or at least desire, and had miserably failed.

There was no failure this time. As unnatural as Douglas had always believed his desires to be, this was true, not only natural, not only pleasant but the biggest and most genuine thing to ever happen to him.

“Do you mind changing the position?” Martin asked.

Douglas blinked. “I don’t.”

He allowed Martin to turn him, his painful erection finding the contact with the sheets a relief for now. Martin snuck one hand between his legs, pulling at his balls and a bit at his cock as if he wanted to check something.

Douglas cursed softly, hiding his face into the crook of his elbows. Martin no longer took his time now and entered him, making him push himself up on his elbows and throw a surprised look over his shoulder.

“Am I too rough?” Martin asked, his voice a ragged whisper.

“No. Please, just ... just fuck me,” Douglas said.

Martin smiled at him and pushed himself down to the hilt, bottoming out in one go. Douglas felt his ass clenching, no longer upset at the intrusion, but needier even. Martin began hammering him, catching his arms and making them turn backward. That technique was leaving him with no support, but Douglas didn’t mind it. His cock was the only loser in this. As much as he wanted to move his hips in an imitation of penetration, his cock met nothing but air, and the only alleviation for the feeling of frustration growing inside him was to push back, and meet Martin’s thrusts and that large cock stretching him open and giving him that amazing sensation that was making him moan like an animal in rut.

Martin’s breathing came in short, ragged grunts as he was working Douglas’s ass hard. Out of control like that, Douglas felt that sensation of floating returning. He couldn’t do one thing but receive what Martin wanted to give him, and it felt so amazingly right, that he could not see the beginning or the end to that sensation.

The buildup at the root of his cock was getting unbearable now. Could it even be possible? He couldn’t touch himself, and Martin couldn’t, either, busy at pulling him back, helping him impale himself onto his cock over and over again.

Martin grunted and pushed himself a few harsh times inside his ass. Douglas could feel the vibration in the other’s cock, and the mere idea that this man was filling him up shortcircuited his brain, and he moaned as his cock began shooting without being touched at all.

It was a bit later, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened that Martin came with a wet towel and began wiping the crack of his ass gently. Douglas had a sudden need to check himself in a mirror, to see how his body had changed and to examine that trickle of white substance pouring down the inside of his thighs, the cum of another man, something so unbelievable, yet so normal, so natural, that he could still couldn’t get his head around.

Martin kissed the back of his neck, making him shudder. “I’m sorry about your clothes. Your shirt is all crumpled now.”

“It’s all right.”

His shirt was nowhere near the worries starting to rear their ugly heads now, that the deed was done, and he needed to get back to reality.

“I should --”

“Sleep here. I’ll bring you something that will help you feel more comfortable.”

Douglas didn’t protest. His bones were like putty, his body weightless. He could not recall Martin coming back with the promised nightclothes.

***

Dawn was breaking when he opened his eyes, suddenly aware that he wasn’t at home. The realization that he had spent the night with a stranger, on something that looked pretty much like a campaign bed, rushed to him.

It couldn’t be otherwise, as the said stranger was spooning him into his large arms, his body heat comforting and alarming at the same time. As he tried to move, his bed partner stirred. Sneaking out without alerting Martin appeared impossible.

Douglas set his lips in a grim line. Trespassing was designed to have consequences, and he would learn soon about them, too. Without one second of hesitation, he slid out of bed, trying to seem polite, but truly meaning to be out of there as soon as possible, and, preferably, without having to exchange conversation with his bed partner.

Martin blinked and looked at him. “Good morning,” he said, with a lazy smile.

Douglas pursed his lips. “Good morning,” he replied.

“If you don’t mind waiting, I could fix breakfast and iron your shirt.”

Douglas let his eyes traveled to his shirt, neatly hanged on the back of a chair. Something like nervous laughter was climbing up his throat. Was it customary for one-night-stands between men to be followed by offers such as that?

He wouldn’t know. It was a first and last for him.

“Please, there is no need to tend to me. I will be out of your hair in a moment,” Douglas replied. “I believe I took enough of your time as it is.”

Martin moved, climbing out of bed. Douglas didn’t stare. He could not remember how he had come to wear the nightclothes he wore right now, and the thought bothered him. To think that he could be capable of such loss of control! It was unsettling.

“I understand. If I can assist you with anything, please just let me know.”

There was not one ounce of sarcasm in Martin’s voice. Douglas felt suddenly unnerved. Maybe such encounters were the norm for the stern man. He wouldn’t be bothered by someone who wanted to make himself scarce with the break of dawn.

Douglas proceeded to change into his clothes, aware of how Martin moved around, overly conscious of the man’s presence, and feeling a growing restlessness in the pit of his stomach. 

“I trust you to be discreet,” Douglas said as he finally looked decent.

What he felt inside was a different matter. He felt miserable, not because of what he had done the previous night, but because of not having the nerve to say out loud what he wanted.

Was he insane now? There was nothing there. Whatever he had come for, he had gotten it. It was worth losing sleep over, but that was his problem, not anyone else’s.

“I box each Thursday, except the last of the month. In the evenings, I am always here,” Martin said in a steady, neutral voice as if he recited the weather forecast.

A veiled invitation was an invitation, nonetheless. Douglas wished he could say out loud that he didn’t think they would cross paths again, but he found himself incapable of doing so. “Goodbye,” he said and turned on his heels.

“See you around, Mr. Kent,” Martin said at his retreating back.

Mr. Kent? But again, there was not one ounce of sarcasm in Martin’s voice.

***

The second time Douglas saw Martin wasn’t by accident. For days and days, Douglas had debated with himself whether he should go through with what his body desired or tough it out. Alternating between revolt against himself, anger at the world, and bitterness at his own family, he had come to a decision that appeared, at first glance, to come out of nowhere.

He watched Martin in the ring, always steady, always calm, executing his opponents with the meticulousness of a clockmaker. The man gave him the chills. Whether that was good or bad, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that he needed to see Martin. Whatever followed after was not part of his plans. There, a blank canvas lived, on which his future would be written in rough brushstrokes.

Douglas chose to wait for Martin outside. First, he would congratulate Martin for another notch of his belt. That seemed to be a good conversation starter.

Martin appeared among the first to leave the building after the crowd dispersed. If he were surprised to see Douglas there, he didn’t show it.

“That was a marvelous bout, Martin,” Douglas offered politely, his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets.

In the cool evening air, his breath came out like puffs of smoke. During such moments, Douglas wished he could do that. He wasn’t that type of smoker. Another embedded habit inherited from his father didn’t allow smoking in the street, like some lowlife.

“Thank you, Mr. Kent. Would you join me for a walk? I prefer a little stroll to mass transportation.”

Martin’s home was at a fair distance from there, but Douglas wasn’t one to complain. He fell in pace with the other, without another word. 

“Where did you learn to box like this?” Douglas asked first.

“My father taught me everything I know,” Martin replied.

“Does he agree with this type of venue? I reckon you could do better,” Douglas said.

“I wouldn’t know. He’s no longer among us,” Martin replied.

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“No need for apologies, Mr. Kent. You couldn’t have known that.”

“Please, Douglas. Call me Douglas.”

He had no idea what he could talk about next. Martin didn’t appear unnerved by the silence. He just walked steadily, like nothing in the world could touch him. Douglas envied him.

“Are you looking for someone to teach you about boxing?” Martin asked.

“Am I that bad?” Douglas laughed. “I assume so. Do you offer?”

“I’m afraid my abilities as a teacher are abysmal.”

Douglas fell silent. The deserted streets resonated with the cadence of their steps. Something was comforting in how they seemed to walk in the same rhythm, like a well-oiled machine.

“That is too bad.”

“I could recommend someone.”

“No. It’s all right. I got enough humiliation when you sent me to the floor.”

“It wasn’t my intention to humiliate you.”

“What was?” The question left Douglas’s lips before the brain could rationalize why he wanted to ask that.

“My intention?”

“Yes.”

“To protect you.”

This time, Douglas laughed. “Do I look that vulnerable?”

“No. You’re stronger than you think, Mr. Kent.”

“Douglas, please.”

“Douglas.”

It gave him little thrills and chills to hear his name spoken by Martin. The source of that feverish excitement was meant to remain unknown. 

“Would you like to come up, Douglas?” Martin asked as they reached his building.

That was the true moment of decision. Until that moment, Douglas had played with fire, like someone who knew he had an extinguisher at hand. Right now, Martin was asking him to walk into the blaze without one look back.

“Yes. I would love to.”

This time, they took the elevator. Just breathing the same air as Martin, in such close quarters, made him feel lightheaded.

He followed Martin without a word, barely registering the hallway, the dim light, the faint smells of whatever people cooked, locked behind their doors. His eyes were set on Martin’s broad back.

Martin opened the door and kept it for him to come inside, too. The sound of the door closing behind him startled him, but not as much as Martin grabbing him, turning him, and kissing him fast.

He stumbled backward, hastily pushing his coat down, and doing the same for Martin. The steady, stern man seemed to be gone, leaving a way for something else, or, better said, someone else. 

Martin’s hands were on him, everywhere, and Douglas wanted to scream bloody murder for taking it so long for them to be naked as the day they had been born.

It was a renewal, a rebirth of sorts if he thought about it. Behind that door, within the confines of that modest room that many would have considered odd to place him in, Douglas could feel a stretch like his soul was growing, expanding and pushing against his ribcage. That if he thought of it all in poetic terms.

In all truth, his heart was beating wildly, and his lungs fought to get enough air inside as Martin kissed him. He would take such small grievances every day and every night, and every hour and every second.

Martin buried his hands into his hair, his rough fingers brushing across the scalp, and Douglas welcomed the slight discomfort. He blinked and looked into Martin’s steely eyes.

“Are you sure?” The words were breathed out, hopeful.

“Completely,” Douglas confirmed.

As much as his surrender was. Martin didn’t waste time with questions anymore. He just pushed him toward the bed, wrestling them both out of the last remnants of clothing they still had on.

Douglas pushed himself up on the bed on his own accord. To believe that he would feel so free, naked like that, enjoying another man’s nakedness. That was true freedom, and it tasted sweet.

Martin was upon him soon, spreading his knees, finding a way into his body in simple, hard thrusts that Douglas welcomed. Before, he would have preferred only being taken from behind, like a dog, so he could hide his shame, so, in a way, this missionary position was a deviation for him, not in the sense that it was immoral or despised, but in the sense that it was a deviation from the norm, from what he thought it would be, at best, possible.

“Look at me,” Martin commanded, his voice quieter, harsher.

Douglas did and raised his hips to get more of Martin’s hard cock inside him. That was Martin’s manhood, the very definition of it if there was one, and it was splitting him in half, but even that pain was sweet, and he loved it so much it hurt. 

Martin palmed his cock, pushing himself up on just one arm so that he could fill his other hand with Douglas’s member. Douglas let him know he was much appreciative of the consideration, not with words, but with his small grunts and moans that grew deep and lewd.

“Tell me you like this,” Martin begged him now.

“I do,” Douglas managed as he could barely control his voice anymore. “Your cock in me ... so hot ... so good. Could you give me more? More of this?”

Martin’s reply was a deep kiss. At the same time, the movement of his hips grew ampler. When he pulled back, Douglas keened at the loss, but when Martin slammed back inside him, filling him up, he moaned in pure pleasure.

The way their bodies connected was electric. Their coupling filled the air, not just the one around them, but inside him, too. He didn’t know if Martin thought the same and he didn’t dare to ask. With every breath they took, they gained something. It felt that way, for him at least.

Martin moved faster, his hand on Douglas’s cock just as vigorous. Neither had to say he was ready. Their bodies seemed to do a good job of communicating with each other, even though no words were used or needed.

Douglas pushed his head into the mattress, exposing his throat. He jerked, once with his release, and twice with Martin’s teeth sinking into the taut flesh there. It made his climax so much better like his entire skin prickled but in a good, good way.

Through his shredded consciousness, he could feel Martin’s cock, that marvelous tool of pleasure, pulsing inside him, filling him up. 

Martin liked his neck slowly as they descended from their bliss. “I might have left a mark. I deeply apologize.”

Douglas burst into laughter. “You cannot be serious! You are always so polite. Your bed partners must --”

The words died in his throat. It wasn’t his business what Martin’s lovers did or thought.

“My bed partners have never been like this,” Martin said.

“Like this, how?” Douglas ventured to ask.

Martin seemed to ponder over his next words. “Handsome. Responsive. Willing to give back.”

Douglas looked away, and Martin moved. He worked his legs a little, strained from being kept apart like that. “A man like you must have had many interesting lovers.”

“Not quite.”

“Not quite interesting, you mean?”

“And not many, either.”

Douglas’s heart skipped one beat. The words were on his lips. Should he let them go? “How many?”

Martin didn’t reply. Instead, he went to the bathroom and came back with a damp cloth to clean Douglas of the cum on his belly and some of that between his thighs. So it was the wrong question, after all.

“I left the army,” Martin said suddenly.

“Ah, I was wondering where such efficiency could come from,” Douglas said.

“That’s actually my father’s doing. He was a butler.”

Douglas couldn’t say he was surprised. It explained many things about Martin. “Why did you leave the army?”

“I hit my commanding officer. Not as hard as I might have liked,” Martin added, and a bit of mirth could be read in his voice. “I won’t bore you with details. The thing is I fight because it’s something I do well.”

Douglas could not clearly tell what the connection was with his earlier question, but he was eager to hear about Martin’s past.

“I would like you to come live with me,” he said. 

It was his true desire. He could understand Martin’s simplicity now. And he wanted it, too, to be capable of living as he wished, without caring about whatever others wished for him.

“I know who you are, Douglas Kent.”

Douglas pushed himself on his elbows and stared at Martin’s broad back, still glistening with sweat from earlier. “And that’s relevant how?”

“Why do you want me to come live with you? As what? Your lover?”

Douglas couldn’t say whether Martin was angered, or sarcastic, or genuine in wanting an answer. “Yes, why not?”

Martin looked over one shoulder. “People will not approve.”

“And why should I care?”

“You should. You do.”

“Is this your way of refusing me? What am I to you?”

That last bit had come out a bit desperate. Douglas hadn’t meant to let it drop. And it was clear what they were to one another — two people who had fucked twice.

“An impossibility.”

Martin’s answer took him by surprise. Douglas set his jaw hard. “I’ve never been called that before.”

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Why would I hate you? I want you with me. I doubt it’s hard to understand what --”

“You will come to hate me. I know the world, Douglas. It has a way of pecking at you, like a mindless bird. In time, it would happen. I’d rather have this than that.”

“This being a few fucks?” Douglas pushed himself up and started searching for his clothes.

“Please, don’t be mad.”

Douglas stopped with one silk sock in his hand, ignoring how ridiculous he must have looked. “And why should I be mad? You called me an impossibility, pretended to know what I would do in the future, and practically told me to my face that I’m only good enough for the occasional romp in the hay. Are you laughing?”

Martin made obvious efforts to hide that he was doing exactly that. Douglas shook his head and took again to his hunting of clothes with renewed vigor.

Martin stood up and grabbed him by the shoulders. “You have much to lose. I’m only looking up for you, Douglas.”

“Oh, please, just call me Mr. Kent,” Douglas said, his voice drowned in irony. “It appears that we can only function when there’s a wall made up of preconceptions between us.”

Martin sighed. “I fight for a living. What could you explain to your visitors? Or your family? That I’m some long-forgotten cousin? Or will you keep me hidden in the attic, like some dirty secret?”

“I would never do that.” Douglas felt like suffocating under the wrongful accusations Martin appeared to throw about so casually.

“Oh, so you will introduce me as your lover. I’m sure the scandal would bury you.”

Douglas set his lips in a grim line. “You can’t know that.”

Martin was right, but that was no reason to feel less pissed. 

“I do. And you do, too.”

“So that’s it? We’re bound to keep our affair under wraps?”

“I would lie if I said I wouldn’t be happy with seeing you once in a while.”

“Once in a while? No. I can’t settle for this.” Douglas shook his head. 

“We just met. How can you be so sure you want me?”

It was a legit question. It stung that Martin thought it necessary. It only meant that Martin didn’t find their encounter as fateful as Douglas thought. If he had one ounce of dignity, he would leave it at that.

But tonight, Douglas wasn’t in the mood to hide his wants and needs or be too proud. “I have no straight answer to give you. I do want you, Martin Hoffman, as thick-headed as you seem to be.”

Martin tried to pull him closer, but Douglas refused by standing his ground. The other got the hint and withdrew. 

“It’s all right if you don’t feel the same. After all, it was presumptuous of me to assume you would jump into my arms and follow me home. Goodnight.”

He hoped his abrupt manner was enough for Martin to keep from trying to stop him. And it was.

***

Douglas knew that it said too much about him that he let his feet take him to Martin’s neighborhood time and time again. Sometimes, he stopped before reaching the building entrance. Most of the times, he found himself at the door, where Martin greeted him, pulled him inside, and made love to him until he was sore, exhausted, and hated his own guts.

There had been no more talk about Douglas’s proposal from before. Instead, sometimes, he stayed the night, and sometimes they made casual conversation about inconsequential things. And sometimes Martin made tea and served it with a side of stories from his past.

Eventually, Douglas had learned the number of former lovers. Three. And about the incident from the army. The fact that there was homophobia within the ranks was no surprise. Martin taking a stand about it and being sent home all hush-hush was the real one. He had also learned about Martin’s father, his days as a butler, and several times already, he thought about offering Martin a job of that nature. The old butler Douglas had already longed for retirement.

But he stopped himself in time. Hiring his lover as his butler? Talking about dirty secrets. He hated the idea. Or, at least, he pretended to hate it because he thought it to be too convenient for him and too insulting and demeaning for Martin. It was the man’s right to serve tea within the walls of his own home. Making it an obligation for pay was ridiculous.

“Have you ever thought about what you would do when you can’t fight anymore?” Douglas asked.

In his spare time, he had started taking serious boxing lessons because he wanted to have something to share with Martin. According to his personal trainer, he was a natural. Somehow, he doubted that.

Martin had been pleased with his interest in boxing. But right now, it appeared that the question at hand wasn’t easy to answer. “It would be tough,” he said. “There are always other jobs I could take. Maybe security. Or not. Something related. Or not.”

Martin had his pride, and Douglas understood it. “Will you have to leave here?”

The thought of offering Martin a job crossed his mind again. But what? A bouncer at the casino? That appeared wrong, too. 

Martin shrugged. “If I have to. I don’t have much family left. So nothing really keeps me in one place.”

The casual admittance that whatever they shared was just a fling stung deep and hard. Douglas studied his teacup as if he could find there the answers to whatever bothered him. “It’s not fair,” he said quietly. “That you don’t care.”

Martin paused, whatever it was he was doing. 

Douglas hurried to wave one hand, without looking into Martin’s direction. “Never mind. I know where I stand. If one day I stopped coming, you wouldn’t care, and that’s fine by me.”

“I would.”

Douglas snorted. “No need for politeness, Martin.”

“It is not that.”

They weren’t looking at each other, or, at least, Douglas wasn’t looking. “What is, then?” There was little he could do to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“I would like you to come again. Any time you can spare. I love having you here with me.”

Douglas turned to look at Martin this time. “Of course. I love,” he emphasized the word as he bore his eyes into the other’s, “our times here, as well.”

The tea was exquisite, but he was no longer in the mood. He stood up. Martin came close and put one hand over his, squeezing. “What would you like me to say, Douglas?”

“I really don’t know.”

“You do.”

“You’re right. I do. But there is only this much rejection and humiliation someone can take --”

“It’s neither.”

“You can’t pretend to know what I feel,” Douglas protested. “I’m sorry you went to the trouble to buy the scones I like. I saw them on the kitchen table earlier. This day is ruined. And I have to go the bed early tonight anyway.”

“Why?” Martin asked, the pain in his voice palpable.

“I have to interview some people. My butler is retiring soon.”

Douglas wanted to add more. Do you want the job? Say yes, and become my dirty secret. The words didn’t leave his tongue.

“And it’s only five in the afternoon,” Martin pointed out. “You could stay a while longer.”

“I can’t. I won’t. See? I’m trying to be fair.”

“When will I see you again?”

“I might be too busy ... All right. Martin, I can’t see where this is going. I just can’t.”

“Stay a little while longer,” Martin said and squeezed his hand again.

“It would just postpone the inevitable. Don’t mind me. I will probably come again sooner than I think.”

Martin cupped his cheek and kissed him. Douglas didn’t have the heart to push him away. If he were honest, that was more for himself, though.

***

“All the candidates have come well recommended, sir,” his butler said. “Have you decided yet?”

Douglas had been irritated all morning. Yes, the candidates were all impeccable. And yes, his butler deserved to retire. But it was like he was foolishly keeping to that as if he could still offer Martin that position. It was ridiculous to think of it.

“I will. Soon, I promise.”

The front doorbell chimed. Jefferson straightened up and began walking toward it. Through the open door to his studio, Douglas had a clear view of the entrance. Not interested in checking out what visitors could happen at that hour, he started sorting his correspondence.

“Do you really believe that coming from the street like this --”

Jefferson’s angry, but subdued voice, startled him. People knew better than to come knocking uninvited. So there had to be an unusual situation. 

He straightened up and went out in the large hallway. “What is it, Jefferson?”

“This person,” his butler turned to him, “believes --”

Douglas tuned out his butler’s voice as soon as he saw who stood in the doorway. Martin had small luggage in his hand, a brown leather bag which Douglas had seen at his place multiple times. 

“For a butler’s position in this house, one must come recommended!” Jefferson finally finished his tirade, clearly oriented toward the newcomer, not the master of the house.

Douglas didn’t tear his eyes off Martin. He didn’t dare to blink. “It’s all right, Jefferson. I was expecting the gentleman. I didn’t know if he could make it.”

Jefferson knew better than to act surprised. He stepped aside and invited Martin in. 

“I will interview this candidate by myself,” Douglas instructed his butler. “Please make sure no one disturbs us.”

Jefferson just nodded and walked away stiffly. He was a tad annoyed, Douglas could tell.

“Please,” Douglas gestured for Martin to step inside his studio.

Martin sat only after being invited. Douglas cleared his voice. “Now, Martin, pardon my French, but what the hell are you doing here?”

“Applying for the butler’s position. There’s an opening, right?”

It was always unnerving not to know when Martin was joking. 

“What do you believe recommends you?”

It was only fair to apply some well-deserved payback. Douglas had no intention to drive Martin away. If it were true, he would sign Martin’s contract that very moment. It didn’t matter if he knew nothing about silverware.

To his surprise, Martin took out some papers. “My father worked in these places. I always helped him. I know it’s not the same, but his former employers were happy to send me these recommendations by fax this morning.”

Douglas took the papers and stared at them without really seeing them. Martin began enumerating all the tasks he had performed in the past in a calm, measured voice. As it seemed, he knew plenty about silverware and not only.

Under his forehead, thoughts like flocks of birds gathered. Martin was calm, like always. Asking him, all of a sudden, if he wanted to stay, not as the butler of the house, but as his lover, seemed inopportune. 

“Jefferson will have to supervise you for one week or so. If you prefer … I would prefer you move here. Sleep under this roof.” His tongue was a funny thing. He could barely find his words. “What is it that you want, Martin?” he finally asked.

“To be with you,” Martin replied, and he used the same voice as he had while enumerating his many qualities as a butler just earlier.

“Then why did you reject my offer before?”

“The terms were unacceptable. I would never allow anyone to hurt you.”

Douglas leaned back into his chair. It was close to unbelievable that he was having that conversation with Martin and under such circumstances. If only Martin were less detached. If only he showed a bit of … anything. Emotions were written off that man, except during lovemaking, when he let some of that mask slip off and allowed Douglas to see him. During those moments, he could believe Martin, his desire to be together.

But, as things were, they were discussing terms of employment, and a large mahogany desk sat between them, solid and real.

“Do you truly want me to hire you as my servant?” Douglas asked.

“A butler is much more than a servant.”

“That’s true,” Douglas admitted. “But he can’t be a lover, can he?”

Martin said nothing, keeping the same imperturbable face. 

“Let’s try this for a week,” Douglas said, fiddling with the papers on his desk, for lack of anything better to do. “Be aware that Jefferson can be a slave driver. I won’t intervene. If he advises me against hiring you, I will heed his words.”

There was still no reaction from Martin or not the one he wanted. Martin stood up and bowed politely. “Then I should start right away.”

“Yes,” Douglas said in a quiet voice. “You should.”

***

It was so strange to see Martin dressed in butler livery moving quietly around the house and paying attention to Jefferson’s short and precise recommendations. Douglas had decided to stay out of it, leaving the ball in Martin’s court, and did not attempt conversation outside the limits of what their relationship as employer and employee entailed. 

It appeared that Martin was okay with that. Well, then he would be fine with it, too. 

The trial period went by fast and Douglas, as lost in thought as he had been lately, was a bit taken by surprise when Jefferson came to bid him farewell. He had already made arrangements for the former butler to leave for his retirement with a sizeable financial reward for his services, for which Jefferson chose to address his thanks, in a subdued and polite manner.

So, he was finally alone with Martin. Extra services that couldn’t be covered directly by the butler were outsourced, but those were few. It had been that way when the house still belonged to his father, and now Douglas found the arrangement convenient.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to address the elephant in the room. It unnerved him greatly that he held so little power, despite being the so-called master of the house. He needed to do something.

“I thought you might like some tea,” Martin said as he entered after knocking on the door to Douglas’s studio.

Douglas watched Martin’s strong hands as the butler saw about his duties. He said nothing when Martin placed the little cup with its beautifully adorned matching plate in front of him. 

“If there is something you want, please let me know. I have a long list of chores lined up, but I would hate to neglect the most important priorities.”

“Well, Martin,” Douglas said as he stared into his cup, “I’m glad that you keep yourself busy --”

“It’s a large house, and there are many things to do.”

“Could you please not interrupt? For the last week, I watched you, wondering if I lost my mind, or you did. How is this supposed to work?”

“As you wish. You’re the master of the house.”

“I’m not talking about your obligations as a butler.”

“I know.”

Douglas paused and then looked at Martin. He stood there, all polite and straitlaced, and Douglas knew he wanted that strength to engulf him and make him whole again. “And if I said that I wanted you to ravish me and take me over the desk?”

The words had come out more serious than he intended. There was no mocking quality to them.

Martin’s lips curled into a smile, and his eyes flickered with amusement. “This early in the morning?”

Douglas sighed, defeated. “Do you see how ludicrous all is? I could never --” He stopped again when he saw Martin moving. “What are you doing?”

Martin circled the desk and came to stand to his side. “What position would you like me to use to ravish you?”

“Seriously, Martin, let’s just drop it. I can’t imagine what I was thinking by hiring you.”

“Maybe that it would be convenient to have me under your roof so that you could do with me as you pleased.”

“And, as we can see, the reality proves us both how ridiculous such thinking is.”

Martin touched his shoulder, and his fingers crawled upward, wrapping gently against the back of Douglas’s neck. “It isn’t ridiculous at all.”

Douglas looked up, and Martin leaned in to kiss him. Maybe it wasn’t ridiculous after all. They were alone, and they could do whatever they wanted. But Martin broke the kiss before he had the time to finish that thought.

“Your to-do list is, as I well know, at least as long as mine,” Martin said. “Tell me what you would like for dinner, and I will prepare it. You will be gone all day, and I want you to return to a warm meal and a true home.”

“Maybe to be less patronized by my butler,” Douglas mumbled, feeling both chastised and annoyed with Martin’s logic. 

“This place would fall into pieces if I neglected my duties. And your business would suffer the same fate if you chose to neglect yours.”

Douglas ran his hands through his hair. “I must warn you, Martin. One week without fucking tends to leave me a bit restless. Don’t push it.”

“Appearances are important, Douglas,” Martin said. “In front of others, you will be my employer.”

“And right now we’re alone.”

“I don’t want to play fast and loose,” Martin replied. “I apologize. Wrong choice of words. But it would be easier for me not to slip from my persona if we followed a routine.”

“Are we going to pretend when we’re alone like this, too?”

Martin caressed his cheek. Douglas looked up at him again. 

“No. But we won’t risk being caught making love on the dining table by sudden visitors.”

“We won’t answer the door,” Douglas said, somewhat aggressively.

“That might work — a few times. Then people might catch wind of what is going on. Details are important.”

“Damn, it’s like we’re planning the perfect murder.”

Martin laughed, and Douglas relaxed a little, too. “See about your business today. I will take care of everything on this end.”

“Martin, you will not be the perfect butler all the time, will you?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“When we’re alone, you’ll have dinner with me. And lunch. And breakfast.”

Martin hesitated for a moment. “All right. But whenever others are present, I will call you ‘sir’. And I will not seat at the table with your visitors. It’s not done.”

It was like they were negotiating something. That was fine by him. “Fine, fine. Since you care so much about my making money, I’ll leave for work.”

“You haven’t eaten.”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit late.”

“I hope the situation will not repeat itself.”

“Are you my butler or my mother?”

Douglas stood up. Martin pulled him close and gave him a long kiss. They both barely breathed when they separated. 

“I am your lover. At least that’s what I hope I am in your eyes,” Martin said. 

“Good. Don’t you forget that. Lovers have obligations, just as much as butlers, if not more.”

“Of course.”

Martin walked to the door, taking the tea cart with him. He threw one last loaded look and a smirk at Douglas as he disappeared from the room.

***

“Your room or mine?” Douglas asked after Martin finished taking the dishes away.

Martin looked at him and smile. “Your bed is quite comfortable.”

“Don’t tell me you slept through the afternoon in my bed while I was working.”

“No. But I did check its general condition. It will hold.”

Douglas laughed and shook his head. “Are we really doing this? Are we insane?”

“Your proposal was more outlandish than this. No one will know. And I will stay here for as long as you want me.”

“Forever?” Douglas asked.

“I certainly hope so,” Martin replied.

***

They were suddenly quiet when they were inside Douglas’s room. Martin took his time to undress him, then himself, and Douglas stood, with his back turned, all the time. The same sensation of vulnerability from before returned, but it was subdued now, more like a low hum in his blood. 

Martin pushed his head slightly to one side so that he could begin tracing small kisses on Douglas’s neck. His hands joined in the front, pressing against Douglas’s chest, tormenting him with their slow descent.

Douglas turned. 

Martin tipped his chin. “Did I tell you?”

“What?” Douglas asked. He swallowed hard. The look in Martin’s eyes was intense and firm.

“I love you.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Then know it’s true.”

Martin leaned in for a kiss, and Douglas stopped him. “Don’t you want to hear me say the same?”

“I won’t hurry you. You’ll say it when you’re ready. I apologize. If you’re ready.”

“You can’t be serious,” Douglas moaned. “You really don’t expect anything in return?”

“I’m living with you in a mansion, you pay me handsomely, and you want me in your bed. I’d say you give me plenty in return.”

“You are a bit annoying, Martin. So let’s just cut to the chase. I love you, too. I don’t know what I would have done if you had left.”

“I had no plans to leave. I didn’t know you were so serious about me.”

“Because I didn’t say the words?”

“Because I could feel you were conflicted.”

“So you wouldn’t have fought for me?”

Martin made a face like he suddenly remembered something. “I have something to show you.”

Douglas followed Martin with his eyes. It was amazing, strange, but beautiful, to have Martin there, naked and moving casually about in his room.

He noticed the brown leather bag left on a chair. Martin handed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked. 

“Just look.”

Douglas took the bag and looked inside. A bit disconcerted, he took out a pair of boxing gloves. “These are yours.”

“I believe I have found something much better to fight for,” Martin replied. “Don’t say I wouldn’t have fought for you. I would have. But not against you.”

Douglas touched the gloves and shook his head. “All this time, I thought I was the only one feeling something. You never said anything.”

“I am more a man of action, than of words.”

“I see. Then I will finally see this part of you that you’re talking about?”

“The action part?”

“Yes,” Douglas said and pulled Martin close. “Thank you for the gloves. I will take care of them. It’s the first gift I receive from you.”

Martin laughed. “So all those little attentions, like your favorite scones and tea brand, meant nothing?” 

“What do you know? You can actually tell a joke.” 

Douglas kissed his lover, loving how Martin’s hands came to rest on his ass. 

“I can. You will learn many things about me. I can’t guarantee that you will like them all.”

“I’ll try. I won’t be bothered by the little things.”

“Good. Now I remember that the order from this morning was … to ravish you?”

“There’s no desk in this room.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll take the bed anytime. And sheets are easier to wash, anyway.”

“Will you think like a butler while you’re in bed with me?” Douglas asked.

“We still have a few feet till there. But I won’t talk anymore. I know I’ve dreamed of this,” Martin said and closed his mouth over Douglas’s. 

Their lips fought a bit, not for dominance, but in a small race of reaching inside. Lips turned to tongues, mouths found each other, locking tightly and remaining like that while they struggled to reach the bed.

Douglas kept Martin in his arms, afraid to let go, even for a second. He could not forget, not so easily, that, after all, there was a world outside those walls, and people who would look down on him for his desire to be with this man.

Martin searched his eyes from above. “I will protect you with everything I have, as long as I live. No one will have one word to say and try and blemish your reputation.”

“Are you a mind reader?” Douglas said nervously.

“Your eyes are open books to me,” Martin replied. “I love you for letting me see this, the real you.”

A small emotion, the last of its kind, came. “And what about your letting me see the real you?”

“I am real with you.” Martin caressed him gently. 

“You’re always so stern, so … calm.”

“If I were to let go, I would do something foolish,” Martin replied. 

“Then let go, only a little. It’s just the two of us here.”

Martin’s eyes changed; it was like even their color became the glint of steel, shiny and dangerous. Douglas gasped when Martin crushed his lips under his. The hands that took his wrists were almost oppressive. Martin let go of his lips only to bite his neck hard. 

He didn’t struggle. Martin stood up only to prepare himself, and when he pushed inside, Douglas shivered. He had been the one to ask for this so he couldn’t complain. The shadows playing on Martin’s face were fascinating him. There was a threadbare refrain in how Martin took him, trying, on the one hand, not to be too rough, but on the other, no longer in control, not as Douglas knew him.

Douglas arched into the relentless attack launched on his body. The dam was broken; Martin groaned and turned to bite him again, his neck, his chest, his shoulders. There would be bruises, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

What he did care about, however, was to move his hips, as much as Martin’s weight on him allowed so that he could meet those maddening thrusts midway. His lover had great stamina, and Douglas wasn’t sure whether he was thankful for it, or he would be sore and much in the mood to curse at his lover the next morning.

Martin let go of his wrists only to bury both hands into his hair and pull him into a long, dizziness inducing, kiss. At the same time, their hips never stopped moving. Martin let go of the kiss so that he could groan loudly, as his hips jerked and bucked wildly. 

Douglas bit his bottom lip as Martin withdrew. He was still hard and painfully so, but that possessiveness was the best proof of Martin’s true desires he could hope for. He startled when he felt something on his cock and looked down to see his lover taking him deep into his mouth.

Douglas grabbed the sheets, trying hard not to push into the heat. Martin knew everything about oral sex, how much pressure to apply, how to bob his head up and down, how to flick his tongue over the sensitive head and right under it. Douglas envied him. He wanted to learn how to do that, too.

Martin brought one hand up to help himself in his endeavor, and Douglas cursed under his breath. Now Martin was simply milking his cock with increasing power, and Douglas knew he couldn’t last. “I … can’t … anymore …”

Martin took him one last time, deep, sensing what was happening, and Douglas let himself fall. That sensation had no equal, he thought with the last thread of rational thinking he could manage, under the circumstances.

“Martin, you’re too good at this,” he half-complained, throwing one forearm over his face.

“I aim to please,” Martin replied right away.

“My ass will hurt a little, I believe.”

“I believe it, too. I only have you to blame for goading me into showing you how much I want you.”

“Ha,” Douglas said, “do you dare to antagonize your master, Martin?”

“Master? You’re only my employer. I’m free to come and go as I please.”

“Hmm, and what makes you think so?” Douglas asked playfully.

“Apologies. You are correct,” Martin smiled and added after a short moment, “master.”

“That’s more like it.”

Douglas only needed to make a sign for Martin, and his lover moved to join him in bed. The strong arms embracing him made him feel safe, like never in his life.

***

“Are you already awake?” Douglas blinked and pushed away some of the sand in his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Martin was already dressed up in his butler livery and tiptoeing about. “As you know, master,” he said with a small laugh, “my list of daily chores is quite long.”

“It’s barely breaking dawn.” Douglas yawned and stretched. “Are you always going to sneak out of our bed like this?”

Martin came close and kissed him on the forehead. “I don’t sneak out. I am just considerate of your sleep. But know this, Douglas. Every dawn, even I wake up before you, I will be here.”

“So I have this? Every dawn with you?”

“You have me. All of me, for as long as you’ll want me.”

“I will always want you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Martin’s eyes were warm, not their usual steely selves, as he looked at him. “I am sure.”

Douglas smiled and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Then I can go back to sleep.”

Martin laughed. “Don’t oversleep. I’ll come to drag you to breakfast once it’s ready.”

“Do that,” Douglas murmured and closed his eyes.

Yes, he was safe, and not only that. He was also in love, and he knew, with absolute clarity, that he would love Martin forever and a day.

THE END