“My brother’s not going to stop us,” I replied. “Sal and my cousin aren’t leaving the basement without help, we’re fine.”
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.
“That’s what you said the first time,” I shot back, undeterred.
“And I’m not winning any points by asking,” he paraphrased my reply that first night.
“Oh, you’re learning,” I whispered. “I do so love a guy who can follow directions.”
His belt opened and he moved on to his pants. He sprang out more ready than his cautious words. I took him in hand and brought my mouth close. With every other guy I’d put in my mouth, I wanted something in return, even if only to get them to stop pawing at me for a few minutes.
I only wanted Ian’s pleasure right now. Was this what charity felt like?
My lips encircled the head of his cock. I stroked the base as my tongue darted out to taste him. His breath quickened, head fell back against the floor. I found a rhythm, regular but not quick. He had saved my life, that deserved more than a quicky.
“Ian!” a distant voice called. “Where you at, mate?”
“Bashir,” Ian whispered and tried to sit up.
My free hand slapped his chest and pushed him back down. The sedate pace would have to wait, maybe next time. Crunched for time, I bobbed on his cock like a whore paid per lick. He groaned and slapped the floor.
“Damn, I’m going to cum!” he said, making it to the last word before he spasmed in my mouth.
“Ian, was that you?” Bashir’s voice had grown louder.
I finally relented and let Ian push me away. His fingers scrambled to right his pants. He had just gotten his belt when footsteps neared the doorway.
“We’re in here!” he called out, pushing himself up to a seated position.
Bashir’s light flickered through the doorway before he stepped through himself. He sniffed and frowned at Ian before he noticed the hole in the ceiling we’d fallen through.
“Oh, shite. I saw Turner on the rocks outside but had a hell of a time getting up here,” he said and offered Ian a hand to help him up. “Are you okay? You look better off than the idiots in the basement.”
“No broken bones,” Ian said as he accepted Bashir’s hand.
Ian turned and offered his hand to me. I took it without a single doubt in my head.
Epilogue
Ian
6 Months Later
Staring up at the manor house, still wrapped in scaffolding, I could hardly believe how quickly the builders had fixed it up. The crumbling tower stood tall, roof and all. A few stories shorter than it had been originally, but who was quibbling? Ivy still clung to half the façade, but the rest of the masonry had been restored and renewed, though plywood still backed all the gleaming windows.
“The next stage is to tackle the inside,” the head builder said by my side. “We’ll worry about the basics, like making sure nobody is going to be falling through the floor, before we deal with the furnishings.”
“That’ll be my wife’s department,” I replied. “She’s got expensive taste, so be prepared to negotiate with her to keep on budget.”
“I’m… I’m not sure if I’d comfortable negotiating with the boss’ wife, sir,” the builder stammered.
“The fact that you’re more worried to negotiate with her than with me should annoy the hell out of me,” I said, shaking my head, “but I can’t complain at how much those skills have come in handy. When it comes to this, I’m deferring to her.”
“So I’m the bad guy saying no to her custom tile mosaic and you get to stay out of her dog house?” the builder grumbled with a put-on huff.
“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m not paying you well to keep me out of the dog house,” I laughed.
An engine revved behind us. A red Porsche careened around the last corner of the drive. It kicked up a small cloud of dust. The gravel crunched under its tires as it came to a stop near us.
