“Maybe,” he says. “If you plan on exploring this side of yourself more after… after our lessons are over.”
A sinking feeling plummets to the base of my stomach, like a heavy anchor being dropped. “I’ll look into it,” I somehow manage to say, almost normally too.
“I guess I’m just saying that I would prefer it if we didn’t see other people while we’re…” His gaze drops again and it feels like I’ve lost something.
“Doing the lessons?” I offer hoping he looks up again.
“Yeah, that.” His blue-green eyes stay on an indeterminate spot on my chest. Probably an in-growing hair.
“I don’t know what you think of me, but I am not exactly a player. Before you, I hadn’t kissed someone in, well, years.”
“Years?!” Giles’ eyes dart up to mine and it would feel like a win if there wasn’t so much shock in them.
“Yeah, it’s been a while.”
“But how? I mean, why? I mean…”
I laugh. “It’s not a big deal. Or maybe it is. Maybe it is a bit worrying. I guess at times I thought it was—”
“No, it’s not… worrying. Or a big deal. I’m just surprised.”
“Because I’m so hot?” I slap my belly and it wobbles.
“Well, yes,” Giles says as serious as a car crash.
A heat rushes to my cheeks. I don’t think he’s taking the piss. He’s just being polite again. Kind and complimentary and encouraging like he is in the gym.
“The point is,” I say, wanting to move on. “I’m not exactly bombarded with other offers right now, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be accepting them. If that’s what you want, for safety reasons, then I’m all for it. It’s not a problem for me.”
“Okay, and I’ll do the same.”
A little rush of joy surges inside me for a reason I can’t fathom.
“So Tony isn’t going to get called.”
Giles rolls his eyes. “No, he isn’t.”
“Poor Tony,” I say. “But his loss is my gain.”
That brings a smile to Giles’ face and if I didn’t know any better I think he has a bit of a praise kink. I lock this hypothesis away.
“Now can we fuck?” I slide my hand around his back and pull him closer to me, our chests touching, my only slightly softened dick rubbing against the cool cotton of his tailored trousers.
“We can fuck,” he confirms and I am glad those are the last words he utters before I attack his mouth with mine.
I like kissing Giles. Fuck, no, I think I love it.
In the past, kissing was never much of a big deal to me. It was always a means to an end. The end being fucking. Not that I disliked it. I just didn’t give it much thought. It was a bit like brushing my teeth, or washing up, or mopping the café’s floor; it was something I did where I could let my mind wander, as it often does, but I couldn’t actually get fully and physically distracted into doing something else until the task was done.
But when I kiss Giles I am completely present and while I am thinking about what happens next – my dick certainly is anyway – I’m also not in a rush. I actually think I could happily kiss Giles forever and for somebody with my brain that is saying something.
So I enjoy his nips and bites. I enjoy the way he sucks my bottom lip and flicks my tongue. I enjoy how he moans – deep and low – into my open mouth. I enjoy how our kiss slowly builds and builds and builds until he’s climbed on top of me and he’s rutting his body against mine.
I reach a hand down and find his dick which is straining against the tailored material of his trousers. He groans louder.
“I like making you hard,” I tell him as I move my mouth to trail kisses up the edge of his jaw.
“I like that too,” he admits with a soft laugh. “Obviously.”
