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I left the stairwell and headed back to my apartment but I scarcely remembered the walk. I was entirely preoccupied by that fucking video and what it meant. The moment I got home I sat on the sofa and played it again.
I had the full measure of the situation at last. I’d been under the impression it had begun at the Cottage on Thursday night, but now I saw it had actually been going on since the summer; drawing in Nick, Stuart, Keith and a number of other bit players long before I’d been swept up in the drama. And yet none of those people had a complete understanding of how everything linked together. I was the only one who knew the entire picture.
Those thoughts, along with everything else, swiftly evaporated as I watched that afternoon in the Cell Block unfold again. I’d already scrutinised the video with a critical eye; now I was free to simply enjoy Nick unveiling and playing with his cock. Undeniably, I’d spent a lot of time with him lately but something was always lacking in those real-life moments. He’d either been present and sexually elusive, or open to my advances but sound asleep. I’d only ever experienced one half of the ride or the other, never the whole thing. But here it was at last: Nick fully conscious, completely in control, and enjoying the pleasures of his huge meat. It was exactly what I’d been after and it was overwhelmingly, unbearably hot. I found myself rubbing my rock hard dick through my trousers and I instantly stopped.
No.
This unique opportunity was not going to culminate in a fevered wank on my sofa.
Instead, I got up and went to my bedroom. I stripped and showered and prepared myself for what lay ahead. The afternoon was darkening towards evening by the time I approached the Cottage, knocked on the door and let myself in.
“Hello?”
Low music drifted along the hall and I followed it. As I approached the lounge I heard Nick talking to someone. My heart leapt into high gear but I quickly realised he was simply on the phone. When I reached the end of the hall, I saw him slowly pacing around the coffee table, phone in one hand, bottle of beer in the other. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday – the grey zip-up hoodie, those well-fitted jeans – but he looked as brazenly hot as he ever had. He noticed me, nodded once in greeting, then turned away and continued his end of the conversation. His slight lack of coordination told me that the bottle he was swigging from was not his first of the day.
I retreated to the kitchen and opened a beer for myself. I felt like I needed it and I drained half the bottle in one hit. A few minutes later, Nick appeared. I turned my back to the fridge and faced him.
“Good news,” he said cheerfully as he slapped his phone down on the table. “My mate Ryan? The one on holiday? He’s at the airport right now, waiting for his flight back. He’ll be home in the morning and you know what that means!”
I’m sure I did know but I hadn’t absorbed his words. I couldn’t quite tear my mind from what I wanted to say and what might follow. My heart was thumping in my chest.
Nick looked at me expectantly, winding his hand as if to draw the correct response from me. After a few seconds he glanced skyward and drew an exasperated breath.
“It means I’ll be out of this dump tomorrow!” He lifted his hands to indicate the dubious luxury of his surroundings.
“Great,” I managed, dully recalling Nick’s plan to move into Ryan’s house as soon as the guy was back home.
Nick caught the strange tension clipping my words. He set his backside on the edge of the table, folded his big arms across his chest and lifted his chin. “What’s up?”
I opened my mouth to speak but his attitude threw me off my stride. If he’d asked me such a question a week ago it would’ve been hollow with indifference, a sense of and how is it my problem? Right now, there was nothing but calm interest and, dare I say it, genuine concern. He really had come to see me as some sort of friend. It made it that much harder to knock his feet out from under him. Even so, I gathered myself and did it.
“I know about you and Stuart.”
No aspect of Nick’s expression or pose appeared to change but I could feel everything about him stiffen as if he’d turned to ice.
In a dreadful monotone, he asked, “What about me and Stuart?”
“At the Cell Block. In Summer.”
I didn’t need to explain further.
Then Nick did change. His face contorted with rage and he pushed away from the table, his beautiful body abruptly possessed by its capacity for power and aggression. For a second I thought he might come at me and I felt a wave of panic, but he made no move in my direction. Instead he slammed his fist into a cupboard door once, twice, three times, his torso rotating with brutal efficiency as he pounded the wood. The sound boomed like cannon fire in the stark kitchen and left a ringing silence in its wake. Then Nick was gone, stalking down the hall to the lounge.
I stood Pendik Escort where I was for a moment, stunned immobile by his outburst until I heard the unmistakable sound of car keys being snatched up. I realised what Nick intended to do.
Keith!
Instinctively, I acted. I rushed through the kitchen door a second before Nick could storm by it on his way out of the Cottage. I put myself directly in his path but he didn’t show any signs of slowing down. Regardless, I stood my ground and put my hands up to stop him. My palms pressed flat against the solid meat of his chest.
“Dave, move,” he commanded in a dead voice.
He continued forwards, trying to use his weight to bowl me aside, but I didn’t give up so easily. Too much was at stake. Not only was he about to drink drive and potentially deal Keith some serious payback, but this whole underhand affair was set to unravel if he did.
“No!” I shouted, and I pushed him. More than anything this made me stagger back a step, but it finally stopped Nick in his tracks. His chest pressed hard against my palms. It rose and fell massively as he drew shaky breaths through flared nostrils and I could feel the crazy pounding of his heart.
“Seriously, Dave!” he growled. Now there was a threatening coldness in the way he looked at me and an unpredictable energy hopping in him as if the impetus I’d halted fought to erupt in some other fashion.
“You need to listen to me.” I realised there was no time to be anything other than direct. “I saw Keith called you Gaybait in his text message yesterday and I confronted him this morning. He didn’t want to tell me your story. He tried to avoid telling me, but I forced it out of him.”
“So fucking what?” Nick snarled back at me. “The only reason I haven’t ripped his fucking head off already is because I knew he’d spill his guts about me. But now he has, so he’s a dead man.”
Nick moved to shoulder past me but I backed up another step and planted myself firmly in his way again, my hands held up placatingly. My back was almost to the front door now. I was running out of room to manoeuvre. I had to take his draw his focus from Keith and fast.
“Keith is not going to spill anything. He’s got nothing to spill anymore. Wait.” I fumbled my phone out of my pocket and began tapping at the screen. “I made him delete that video. This is the only copy in existence.”
I turned my phone towards him and waggled it slightly, making it dance like a fishing lure. Nick’s eyes bore into me for a moment longer before they flicked to the screen and saw the opening frame of the infamous video, cued up as if to be played. He looked back at me, now with absolute fury. He knew I hadn’t just heard about his fun with Stuart, I’d seen it.
“Here,” I said hurriedly before he could respond. I lifted his hand and placed my phone into it. “Delete it.”
After a beat he did exactly that, then he mimicked me by roughly grabbing my wrist and slapping the phone back into my palm. I noticed his eyes had fixed on me with a new intensity. “And why the fuck did you have that, Dave?”
I realised then just how vulnerable my position was: virtually chest to chest with Nick while his temper boiled, backed so close to the door I’d be unable to open it and escape, far from the nearest human being, and embroiled in a scenario that lent tenability to his case for kicking my arse. I seemed to have dragged his attention from Keith, though, and for that I was grateful.
“I wanted to figure out who was watching you from the next room,” I said, shaping the half-truths to my purpose even as they fell from my mouth. “I needed time to do that without Keith looking over my shoulder. I made him send the video to me before deleting it from his phone.”
“Well, fucking congratulations, Dave! You figured out it was Stuart.”
The derisive congratulatory tone in his voice actually stung. He turned his head away in disbelief at the picture I’d created, namely my snooping into his private affairs simply to satisfy my curiosity, but at least he bought the explanation. Then he fixed me with another glare.
“So does Keith know as well now? Does he know it was Stuart with me that day?”
His words retained their steely edge but his temper had burnt itself out a touch now I’d made myself its focus. It seemed he couldn’t sustain his anger once it was directed at me, perhaps because we’d built up too much goodwill for it to thrive, and I recognised this with enormous relief. I’m not good in a fistfight at the best of times, let alone against someone of Nick’s size and strength. Even so, his embers were still red hot and could easily flare again.
“I didn’t tell Keith a thing,” I assured him. “Why didn’t you just tell him before? Would it have been such a big deal?”
Nick looked bewildered by the question. “Of course it fucking would!”
He was right. If Nick had outed Stuart as his wank buddy, who knew what Keith would have done with the knowledge? Anadolu Yakası Escort Things would have been only all the more complicated.
At last, Nick backed off a touch and leaned against the wall. For the first time ever I was glad he put some space between us. I didn’t know him like this. I had no idea how best to handle him or what he might be capable of. He rubbed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling as if answers could be found there. I waited while he processed all the changes going on around him and decided on which to focus first.
“I don’t believe Keith had just one copy of that video, you know,” he said at last.
I was glad to hear that tone of but I’m still not happy about it in his voice that indicates you’ve really taken someone off the boil and started winning them back round, however grudgingly.
“You really stirred up some shit here, Dave.”
“Maybe not,” I countered. “I’ve got something that levels the playing field.”
Under Nick’s sceptical stare I listed all the thefts that had occurred at the House in recent months, finishing with the most recent: the wine. Then I held up my phone to reveal a photo of Keith’s locker. Nick’s eyes widened.
“The little fucker!” he marvelled, taking my phone and zooming in on the picture. “Ah, this is fucking perfect! And it’ll piss Alan off losing another member of the maintenance team!”
I took a second to grasp his meaning.
“Oh, no no no,” I corrected him. “Keith won’t get fired for this. I’m not taking any action against him.”
Nick’s eyes slid back to me, his anger threatening to kindle once more.
“You’re not gonna sack him? What the fuck, Dave? I got the boot for taking a few bottles of JD but Keith gets away with all this?”
“I made a deal with him, Nick,” I explained, taking my phone back. “I’m willing to forget what I saw in his locker but only if he forgets what he saw at the Cell Block.”
Nick continued to glare at me but I gave him a moment to weigh up my words, toss them on to the ruin of his predicament and see how the whole thing came to rest. He began to appreciate the big picture: that my solution was a far surer way to protect his secrets than simply firing Keith from the House. Slowly his scowl relaxed and, a moment later, it morphed into a grin.
“Dave,” he said at last, “that is fucking amazing!”
He moved away from the wall and came towards me again. This time he threw his arms around me and crushed me in a growling, beery bear hug. It had a celebratory feel, like something that might happen during a sporting event, only it lasted a few seconds longer than I expected; long enough for me to get a sense of Nick’s very real gratitude.
“You are a legend” he intoned as he released me and straightened me up.
I shrugged, aiming for nonchalant but feeling undeniably buoyant in light of his unfettered approval. I saw clearly that I’d gambled with our bond this evening but I’d won it back. It was stronger now and, while still not completely honest, it felt truer than it had been.
Nick stepped back, giving me space.
“It’s a dangerous game you’re playing though, Dave,” he said, his slight lean back towards me somewhat conspiratorial, “you being a deputy manager and all. I wouldn’t have thought you’d do something that risky, not for me.”
I shrugged again.
“I like you,” I answered, and let him take it however he wanted.
He grinned at me, and it was the same old honest, handsome grin that had won me over in the first place.
“Let’s get another beer,” Nick said and nodded towards the kitchen.
He waited until he saw I was following and only then headed back along the hall, as if half convinced I’d fly out the front door and away from him the moment he gave me opportunity.
Of course, that wouldn’t happen. We had some talking to do and he seemed of a mind to do it. Such a discussion might have been impossibly awkward had we not already found ourselves right in the middle of it, but here we were.
While he fetched our beers from the kitchen I went along to the lounge and drew the curtains. Tight.
I tossed my jacket on to an armchair and took my usual place on the sofa. This room that I’d come to know so well over the last few days felt new to me now. At last there was no sense of inrushing doom associated with its mismatched furniture and faded decor. Relief at that newfound freedom flooded me instead. Things felt good.
“Here,” said Nick as he sauntered in from the hallway, a fresh beer in each large hand.
He’d gone through a change too. It was just a subtle shift in his demeanour but I knew him well enough now to spot it. Maybe it was the brief moment alone he’d had to reflect on his earlier behaviour, or possibly it was the sight of the cupboard door he’d pounded with his fist (and which, I would later discover, split from top to bottom) but for once Nick showed a touch of self-consciousness. Perhaps he regretted İstanbul Escort revealing that capacity for aggression and was now trying to counter it by appearing as non-threatening as possible. The slow pace of his approach suggested as much, as did the way he tried to avoid looming over me by proffering a beer from a full arm’s length away.
I sat forward on the sofa, narrowing the distance he’d left between us. My right hand closed around the beer but my left grasped Nick’s thick forearm. I looked up and met his eyes for a moment, hoping my meaning might pass between us: I’m not frightened of you. In all honesty, the notion of such brute physicality intrigued me and I wondered how it might come into play in the throes of an intense fuck. Not only was I unafraid, I was turned on.
Nick frowned down at me, studying me from beneath that knitted brow as he weighed up my response, then gave an almost imperceptible nod, more to himself than to me. He seemed willing to believe he hadn’t sabotaged my perception of him. He turned, rounded the coffee table and dropped heavily on the other end of the sofa, taking up too much room as usual: all flared elbows, spread legs and out-flung boots. I was glad to see the return of that same old nonchalant tendency to just be in the world, to let his brawny frame occupy whatever space it needed to and sorry mate if you didn’t like it.
As he settled into a comfortable slouch, those old black jeans he wore betrayed the secrets of his body, pulling snug across his thick thighs, around his arse, over his knees. They drew tight around the heft of his junk, the taut denim seeking to repress him and once again failing. Instead it served only to gather him into a bulky package and divulge the truth of his size as bluntly as if he wore no clothes at all. Adrenaline flooded my system at the sight of it but I merely sat back too and took a swig of beer. It felt like Nick was collecting his thoughts to speak so I watched and waited.
It wasn’t easy. Wild excitement hummed inside me. This beautiful, masculine lump had chosen to be here, tucked away in this quiet place, for no other reason than the bond he shared with me. Outside influences no longer held sway. It was just us now, and many things felt within the realms of possibility. But there were still risks here. Despite everything that had happened until now, there was no roadmap for how these things should unfold. Nick was far more complex than I’d imagined but he still had boundaries and I needed to be careful of them. I couldn’t fuck this up. Not now.
“I think I might owe Stuart an apology,” he said at last, glancing over at me and reading my face for a reaction.
Of all the places I’d imagined he might start, this was not one of them. It caught me off guard. My mind span with recollections of the questionable things Stuart had put us through lately, and anger flared at the idea of owing him anything.
Nick knew none of that, and so I could do no more than ask him, “Why?”
“I’ve always been 99 percent sure he never told anyone about… what he and I got up to in the summer,” said Nick as he stared at his beer bottle and began peeling off the label with swipes of his thumb, “but there was always that last one percent that was convinced he must have told you.”
I started to make assurances this was not the case but Nick waved them away absentmindedly. He said, “Spending the last few days with you has shown me you didn’t know anything about that stuff, not until now anyway. So,” he glanced back at me as he reached his point, “it seems Stuart’s kept his mouth shut about the whole thing. He’s been pretty decent.”
My displeasure must have been obvious. Nick picked up on it almost immediately and gave me an inquisitive frown.
“First of all,” I explained, “I had no idea Stuart even liked men. I literally just found that out today. Secondly, more importantly, he and I have never been close. We’d never share those kinds of details.”
“Really?” Nick studied me again, one eyebrow an amused arch. “No idea at all he likes blokes?”
The notion that he knew more than I did about the House’s homosexual goings-on appeared to tickle him.
“Really. None. And you certainly don’t owe him an apology for suspecting the worst of him. I’m quite sure he kept quiet to protect himself, not you. The guy’s an arsehole.”
At this last remark, Nick’s face momentarily slipped into a doubtful hmmm expression that I’m not sure was completely voluntary. It stung. I’d assumed Nick’s bond with me was far stronger than any he’d had with Stuart, that our connection had superseded theirs, but the reality was some sort of affinity remained. What was it exactly? My mind went directly to the worst place: that no matter how brief Nick’s encounter with Stuart, it had been electric enough to still blaze bright in his memory all these months later. It felt horribly plausible.
Looking into the middle distance, Nick sighed, “I don’t know”.
It was no concession but it had the sound of one, and it was surely a placating technique he’d perfected during his relationship with Kelly. Then he seemed to recognise his response for what it was and corrected course. He turned towards me a little more fully and met my eyes before continuing.
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