Honeymoon for One: Gay Romance
: Chapter 12

Ethan lifted his head, his weight still heavy against Clay. Clay wasn’t sure if he’d heard, so he asked again, “What happens now?”

“Well, I guess you could freak out about your first time with a guy and throw me out.” Ethan laughed half-heartedly, and there was a spark of fear in his eyes now. Clay hated to see it and wanted to banish it forever.

Shaking his head, he let go of Ethan’s cock and pulled him into a full hug. Ethan sighed against him and slipped his arms around Clay’s back, holding on tight. The urge to comfort and protect him thrummed through Clay with each heartbeat. Clay’s hand was sticky, but he couldn’t bear to let go of Ethan long enough to wipe it off.

As soon as he’d extended the invite earlier for Ethan to stay, it had been inevitable. Despite the flare of panic, a strange calmness had taken over. He couldn’t let Ethan disappear forever without…knowing. It was more than just figuring out whether Ethan fancied him as well—because Clay did fancy him, there was no escaping it. It was knowing what had been locked away, deep down where the sun couldn’t reach.

Now that box was burst wide open, Clay standing there with another man in his arms and their pricks out, cum drying on his hand. And he wanted it. Wanted more. He cleared his throat and said, “I was doing a bunk before, when I gave ya the cold shoulder.”

Ethan lifted his head and squinted. “You were what?”

“I was an arse. The last couple days of the tour. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He ran a hand up and down Clay’s back soothingly, resting their heads together.

Clay couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held in such a way. He gave Sam a kiss and hug whenever he saw her after being away and then before he left, but nothing like this. And with Barb… It seemed a very long time ago, and they’d never been ones for big displays.

He wanted to just close his eyes and breathe in Ethan, but he owed him more. He pulled back so he could look Ethan in the eye and be sure he was heard.

“It wasn’t anything to do with you. I mean, it was…” He laughed at himself, his face going hot. Ethan waited, rubbing little circles on Clay’s waist with his hands. Clay’s voice was hoarse. “It’s strange to talk about this.”

“You don’t have to.”

He did, though. “I’ve been in a bit of a tizzy the past few days. Every time I looked at you, I didn’t know what to think.” He grasped for the right words, coming up empty.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Shame took hold of Clay, giving him a rough shake in its jaws. “No, mate. It was all down to me. I…” He snorted, dropping his head before forcing his chin back up so Ethan could hear him properly. “Makes no sense after what we just did that I’m embarrassed to tell ya. I had a wank and was thinking about you. Really knocked me back. Didn’t expect anything like that.”

Ethan’s brows drew together for a moment, and then a wide grin lit up his face, dimpling his cheeks, his teeth bright. “You thought about me while you jerked off?”

“Yep. Kind of snuck up on me, and then…”

Ethan bit his lip and moaned softly. “That is so hot.”

“Is it?” Clay couldn’t deny he was pleased.

“Oh, yeah. Very, very hot.” He lifted a hand and caressed Clay’s beard, exploring, briefly leaning in to kiss and nuzzle him. “So then you freaked out and avoided me. I get it.”

“It was a shit thing to do.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for telling me. I admit—” He broke off, rolling his eyes and shrugging. “I admit I was upset. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong. I thought maybe my raging crush on you was too obvious.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. And it wasn’t that obvious. I thought maybe, but I didn’t really have a clue. You’ll replace that’s a recurring theme. My kids’ll tell you—” His stomach knotted with a surge of acid. “You’re not much older than they are. And we’re…” He waved a hand in the few inches between their chests.

“I know. But I’m a grown man. I know what I’m doing. I know what I want. We don’t have to worry about anyone else right now, or what they might think.”

Of course now it was all Clay could imagine—what the devil would Sam and Pete and Barb make of this? He shuddered, icy fear digging into him. He couldn’t breathe, a horrible pressure in his chest as he pictured their disgust and disappointment and betrayal. Will they hate me?

“Hey, hey.” Ethan took Clay’s face between his hands. “Look at me. Don’t freak out about anyone else right now. One step at a time. No one else matters right now but you and me. Here. Together. I’m here. You’re not alone. Breathe.”

Clay did, forcing his lungs to expand and contract, the drum of panic receding. He looked into Ethan’s kind brown eyes and clung to his waist. Ethan kissed him softly. “It’s just you and me here. Nothing else matters right now.” He smiled briefly. “You know, when you wouldn’t take my tip, I figured I’d really offended you.”

Clay groaned, remembering how crushed Ethan had looked, holding out that envelope. He’d felt like such an arsehole. “I’d thought it was for the best, but seeing you looking so gutted, I couldn’t bear it. You’re smart and thoughtful and—” He had to suck in a breath. “And bloody nice to look at. You’re a real corker, and I don’t ever want you to be sad. To think that you might have been miserable because I was a coward was just too much. I’m so sorry.”

His words hung there between them, and Ethan’s eyes widened before his face went soft. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he whispered, “Thank you.” Leaning in, he kissed Clay gently, his full lips warm and lovely.

Yet even though Ethan didn’t have a beard, his face wasn’t smooth like a woman’s, the stubble there providing friction against Clay’s beard. Kissing him, Clay knew he was kissing a man.

He. Was. Kissing. A. Man.

The words filled his mind, but sounded like a foreign language even as Ethan licked into Clay’s mouth and Clay heard a moan. He also felt the vibration in his throat, which meant he was the one moaning. It was as if he were outside his body, marveling in wonder, yet more alive in every inch of him than he’d ever been.

When they separated to gulp in air, Ethan smiled crookedly. “I feel so good being with you. I never dreamed… But here we are.”

“We are,” Clay agreed. They were, and it was the strangest and most wonderful thing Clay could imagine. “I don’t know what to make of it. This is all new. I don’t understand where it’s come from. But…” He had to suck in a breath. “It feels…true.” Yet as soon as the words were out, doubt dug its rusty hooks into him. “I shouldn’t be doing this, though.” He fought down another burst of fear.

“Why not? We both want it. We’re adults. I know it’s hard to ignore the internalized homophobia that’s probably shouting at you right now.”

Clay mulled over the unfamiliar words. He knew what homophobia was of course, but had never thought of it as being “internalized.”

Ethan added, “If there were no one else in the world—if it were just us, and you could do anything right now without being afraid, what would you want to do?”

Looking into Ethan’s eyes, Clay ran his shaky hands over Ethan’s sides and around his back. “Bugger, I’m getting your shirt sticky.”

Ethan laughed. “I don’t care.” He asked again, “What would you want to do?”

Clay thought about how good it had felt to have Ethan pressed against him. He blurted, “I’d want to get our clothes off and see all of you.” He barked out a laugh. “Don’t reckon you’d be so keen on seeing me.”

Ethan stared into Clay’s eyes, holding his chin. “I am. You’re so sexy.” With his other hand, he rucked up Clay’s shirt, slipping his hand underneath and caressing Clay’s chest, sending ripples of pleasure over his skin, his nipples peaking. “I want you. I want to see you and touch you. Let’s go to bed.”

Clay nodded, his heart thudding. Excitement mingled with a shot of unease. “Are you keen to… You know. Do what fellas do together?” He’d never had anything stuck up his arse, and he wasn’t sure he fancied it. Although as he pondered his prick inside Ethan, it twitched with interest.

“We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk. I only want to be with you. Let’s not rush.”

“Right. Putting the cart before the horse.” He exhaled in relief. One step at a time.

They pulled up their shorts, and as they made their way out of the kitchen and down the short hall, Clay didn’t know where to look or what to do with his hands. He fidgeted with them, and Ethan grabbed one, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

Clay switched on the lamp beside his bed and made a sweep around with his arm. “Well, this is it. Not much.” He flicked on the ceiling fan and gazed around nervously, imagining what Ethan was seeing.

Wood floor that was in need of some spit and polish, but the oval rug by the bed was clean, decorated with navy and green zigzags. The bed was a queen, a new one Clay had bought when they moved in, the old one he’d shared with Barb in the Curry sagging and overdue for replacement. The bed frame was a cheap job with no headboard.

The drapes over the window were navy, the walls painted the beige they’d been when he and Sam had arrived. There was a long dresser across from the foot of the bed, with odds and sods scattered on top. Not the neatest, but his clothes were folded inside the drawers and hanging in the closet, and he hadn’t left any reeking socks hanging about, at least.

Ethan approached the dresser, and Clay laughed nervously. “Bit of a catch-all spot.” There was some junk mail he’d been meaning to look over before ditching, an old paper he should have tossed in the bin, a pack of batteries he’d meant to return to the junk drawer in the kitchen, and a few framed pictures of the kids when they were youngsters.

Smiling absently, Ethan said, “It’s great.” He leaned in and gazed at the pictures of Sam and Pete, opened his mouth, but then closed it and straightened. Nodding to the framed picture over the dresser, he asked, “Where’s this?”

Clay blinked at the shot of the sun sinking bright pink and orange over the red earth. “Ah, that’s the Curry. Had that for years. It was a wedding present. Bit faded now. Frame could be nicer. Should probably get rid of it.”

“It’s gorgeous.” Ethan turned back to him, smiling.

“Is that fan bothering you?” Clay craved the air on his fevered skin, and it was one of those fans that was meant to be quiet, but he wanted Ethan to be able to hear him.

“Nope. It feels great, and I don’t hear anything.” His face creased for a moment, as if he was concentrating on listening. “No, it’s good.” Then his gaze was caught by the other framed decoration in the room, which hung over the bed. He crawled onto the mattress, walking toward it on his knees across the thin blue bedspread. “Is Gilly in this? The namesake, I mean.”

The sight of Ethan on his bed had Clay’s lungs frozen for a moment. He coughed. “Uh, yeah. Third from the right there. That’s the winning team from the Ashes in 2002-2003. The kids gave it to me for my birthday the next year. It’s old too, and just a cheap thing. I should take it down.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, then realized he’d only hauled up his shorts enough to walk, and now he’d pushed them down his thighs again. He yanked them back up, wishing he’d quit being such a wally.

Ethan looked at him and grinned. “Stop apologizing. Your room’s great.” He looked back at the cricket team. “And I get it—baggy green is the hats, right?”

Clay blinked. “Yeah, that’s right.” He must’ve said it earlier and should’ve known that Ethan wouldn’t understand.

Then Ethan pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his bare chest. There was a bit of dark hair scattered across his pecs, and his nipples were small and red. He was slim, but still had muscles. Clay stared, his throat dry and mind spinning.

Of course he has muscles, you drongo. All people have muscles!

But the definition of Ethan’s made Clay’s hands itch to touch. All he could do was try to breathe as Ethan shoved down his shorts—all the layers—and wriggled them free, tossing them to the floor before sitting back on his heels, watching Clay the whole time.

His cock was cut and thick, a thin trail of dark hair leading down to it. Clay didn’t know where to look—that cock, or Ethan’s nipples, or the movement of his throat, or the flash of dimples in his cheeks, or his lovely eyes, or the hair on his thighs that Clay wanted to touch and feel against him.

With a sly smile, Ethan crooked a finger, and Clay felt like his whole world was at the mercy of that one digit. “C’mere.”

Feet obeying, Clay came to stand at the side of the bed. Ethan knee-walked closer, his prick bobbing and swelling. He reached out, and Clay’s heart thundered, but Ethan only took hold of Clay’s wrist and eased off his watch, resting it on the side table by the corked coaster with an image of Perth’s black swans on it, the set a gift one Christmas from Jen.

Tension took hold. No, this wasn’t the time to think about his sister, or Barb, or the kids. Of course it was like trying not to think of a pink elephant, and worry tumbled through his mind.

“Hey, hey.” Ethan rubbed circles on Clay’s hips, gazing up at him. “In here, it’s only you and me. No judgment.”

Clay nodded, exhaling. His ribs were going to be sore with all the gasping he was doing, because the next moment he couldn’t breathe as Ethan pulled up Clay’s shirt and leaned down to tease his bellybutton, flicking it with his tongue. There were a few moles dotted on Ethan’s shoulders, and Clay touched one, leaning on Ethan so he didn’t topple over as he shook with pleasure.

Ripping off his shirt and tossing it blindly, Clay stood there, trying to keep his knees from knocking. Ethan stared up at him as he licked a path up Clay’s stomach. Clay squirmed, both from enjoyment and embarrassment. “Not as trim as I once was.”

Ethan frowned. “Can you please repeat that?”

Now Clay felt even more foolish. “I said I’m not as trim as I once was.”

The puff of Ethan’s sigh tickled Clay’s skin. “There’s nothing wrong with your body. You’re fucking hot. He ran his hands around Clay’s middle and up his back. “You’re strong and sexy.” Rising up on his knees, he rubbed his cheek over Clay’s pecs. “I love your hairy chest,” he murmured before playfully biting at a nipple, then kissing and sucking it.

“Oh!” Clay’s knees almost buckled at the intense wave of pleasure. Ethan was latched on, fingers teasing and tweaking the other nipple, and it was like fireworks were shooting right to his balls.

Grinning, Ethan glanced up, grazing the other nipple with his teeth now. “You like that?”

“Uh-huh.” Clay nodded vigorously.

“Do you want to lay down with me?” He tugged questioningly at Clay’s shorts, only pulling them down an inch.

Clay could only nod again, stripping off and standing naked as Ethan watched hungrily and scooted back to make room. Part of him wanted to switch off the light and hide under the covers, but no. He wanted to see Ethan, those long legs stretching out, his prick curving against his thigh.

Somehow, Ethan truly did seem keen on getting an eyeful of Clay as well, so Clay got down beside him. On their sides, they cuddled close, touching each other and kissing. Exploring.

Clay had never kissed Barb like this. Never for such a long time, for no other reason than the pleasure of it, to taste each other.

He shoved her from his mind, choking down the swell of terror, remembering what Ethan had said as he nuzzled Ethan’s neck, sucking a kiss on there, loving the faint rasp of stubble under his lips. Clay had never put his hands on another bloke, and it was different in ways that excited him. The angles and firmness and hair, but then the round swell of his arse.

Jesus, Clay could touch it all day. It was only the two of them, and the rest of the world could bugger off. Maybe it was wrong, but it felt too bloody good to stop.

Ethan was half-hard, but didn’t seem in a hurry to get off. He pushed himself up to sitting, his hair tousled. “I need a drink. Do you want some water?” He looked at Clay, waiting for his response.

“Forget the water. I’ll take another coldie.”

A smile tugged at Ethan’s full lips. Lips that Clay had kissed. Lips that had been wrapped around his cock. Ethan said “I’m going to assume that whatever you just said means you want another beer.”

Clay nodded, smiling himself as he watched Ethan get to his feet. Clay looked him over again from head to toe as he walked around the bed to the door. His skin was pale, his long legs and round arse especially, his arms and neck slightly tanned. There seemed to be a mole on the back of one shoulder by the blade. He was naked in Clay’s bedroom, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

There was a mirror inside the closet door on the far wall, but Clay didn’t get up to look and see who he’d replace staring back. Instead, he gathered the scattered pillows—he’d always kept four on his bed even though no one had slept with him since he’d moved to Sydney—and propped them against the wall, leaning back as Ethan returned with his glass of water and Clay’s stubby.

Clay squeezed the foam holder as he gulped. “Ahh. That hits the spot.”

Ethan sat back against his pillows as well. He drank some water and put the glass on the side table. Their arms and thighs brushed as he settled in beside Clay. The ceiling fan beat a cool breeze on their sweaty skin.

“Still with me?” Ethan asked. “Not panicking or anything?”

They were sitting there naked as the day they were born, and while Clay couldn’t quite believe it yet, the last thing he felt was panic. He shook his head. “It’s a strange thing.”

Ethan’s hand was warm on Clay’s thigh. “Sorry, can you say that again?”

“Don’t be sorry. I was mumbling.” He angled his face toward Ethan. “It’s a strange thing, that I’m not panicking. There have been a few moments, don’t get me wrong. But it feels…right. Even after years with Barb, it was…” Coming up blank for the right words, he reached up and smoothed down a piece of Ethan’s hair sticking up wildly. “Nothing like this.”

Ethan nodded. “You said you guys weren’t very…adventurous?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I reckon not.”

“Not even in the beginning?”

“I don’t know. It was a long time ago now.” He thought back to those hot, dry summer nights, hanging down by the river with the mob from school. “When she decided we should date, I didn’t argue. She was a nice girl, and we’d always been friendly since we were ankle biters. So then it was how it was. She was my girlfriend, and after we finished school, I was working full time with my dad, and she worked in a chemist. I reckoned she’d be a good wife, so I asked her to marry me. Most of my mates were getting hitched, and it was the thing to do. She was a good wife. We never argued much. Just went along.”

“Mmm.” Ethan traced his finger over Clay’s thigh, sending a tingle through him. “So it wasn’t ever really passionate?”

Clay knew the answer, but it felt disloyal to say it out loud. Still, it was the time now, if ever it was. “Nah. It wasn’t bad, but growing up, my mates used to go on and on about girls. I never really understood the fuss.” He quickly added, “Not that there was anything wrong with Barb. She’s always been an attractive woman.”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with her,” Ethan soothed, flattening his palm. “There’s nothing wrong with you either.”

“Some might argue with that, mate.”

“Fuck them.” Ethan’s tone meant business. “There’s nothing wrong with what we did.”

“Even if it means I’m…” Clay couldn’t seem to say the word.

“Whether you or anyone else is gay, straight, bi, trans, pan, demi, ace—it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing wrong with you. Or what we did together.”

“Strewth, I don’t know what half those things mean.”

Ethan smiled. “It’s okay. We can have a class in sexual identity 101 later.”

“‘Sexual identity,’” Clay repeated, rolling the unfamiliar words around his tongue. “Where I’m from, that’s not a topic of conversation, I can tell you that much.” A fleeting image of Tony Taylor bent over an engine, grease smudged on his fingers, filled his mind before he banished it.

Ethan said, “Yeah, I think a lot of people make assumptions. Not only about others, but themselves.”

“Huh.” Clay sipped his drink, the cold beer going down easy.

“Have you been attracted to men before?”

An instant denial sprang up, but Clay bit it back. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Sounds ridiculous, I know. How would I not be sure?”

“Years of hardcore sexual repression probably does the trick.” Ethan gave him a smile, running his hand over Clay’s right leg, those long fingers caressing his inner thigh. “It’s amazing what our brains can do. If you locked it down a long time ago, you could just deny it to yourself. You wouldn’t even have to work all that hard once it became a habit. You know what I mean? Like, when I started to go deaf? I convinced myself it was a million other things. It took me way too long to finally get it checked out.” He hesitated. “Did you… When we first met, were you attracted to me?”

“I don’t think so.” Had that really been just a week or so ago? It didn’t seem possible. “But then I got to know you. We started chatting, and… I wanted to see more of you. Started thinking about you all the time, just about.” He snaked his right arm around Ethan’s shoulders, loving the feel of him close.

Ethan leaned in and kissed him, a slow, wet slide of their lips and tongues. When he pulled back, he said, “You’re seeing all of me now.”

“That I am.”

Nuzzling Clay’s cheek, Ethan murmured, “Do you like what you see?”

“You know I do, mate.”

Ethan smiled against Clay’s face, pressing a kiss to his bearded cheek before sitting straight again. He was still cuddled under Clay’s arm, and there was no place else in the world Clay wanted him to be.

“Maybe you’re demi,” Ethan mused.

Clay tried to figure out what it meant, but he was pretty sure “demi” meant “half,” and that didn’t help much. “What’s that one, then?”

“Oh, demisexual is when you really only feel sexual attraction to someone when you form an emotional connection.”

“Huh.” Clay wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“You don’t need to figure it all out right this second. One step at a time.” Ethan shifted onto his hip, sliding his right leg over Clay’s and stroking his hand over Clay’s chest and belly. He leaned in and bit at Clay’s earlobe, his breath hot. “Have I mentioned how sexy you are? That night on Fraser Island? As soon as I got in my room, I had to jerk off. You made me so hard.”

And apparently he was making Ethan fully hard again now, the press of his cock hot against Clay’s side. Ah, to be so young again. Yet even in his youth, Clay couldn’t remember feeling this excited, this turned on. His prick was coming to life, and he moaned when Ethan brushed over it with his hand. But then Ethan took himself in hand, and seeing it sent shivers through Clay.

“I was barely inside—still standing by the door. And I jerked myself, imagining you were there. Fucking me.”

It sent a fiery thrill through him, and Clay shifted so he could get a good grasp on Ethan, eager to take over. Wrapping his hand around Ethan’s prick again, he shuddered with a powerful wave of want. It was more than just lust—it felt so damn right in a way he’d never expected. He squeezed lightly, and Ethan moaned and rolled his hips, biting his lip.

“Feels amazing,” Ethan murmured.

It truly did. To know that Ethan wanted him—to have the proof of it throbbing in his hand—had Clay shaking like a schoolboy. He’d never touched another bloke before this night, not even as a kid messing around. But now it was as if he could feel Ethan’s heartbeat under his fingers, real and all for him. And there was only them in their world for two. No one to say it was wrong. His lungs constricted.

It was like coming home.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Ethan cupped Clay’s face, his forehead creased. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I do,” Clay croaked, and he could tell Ethan hadn’t understood him. He cleared his throat and grasped Ethan’s prick harder, giving it a stroke. Ethan gasped, his eyes flickering shut. Clay waited until their eyes met again. Very clearly, he said, “I do. I have to do this. I want to do it all.”

“Okay. You want to suck me?” He quickly added, “You don’t have to.”

Clay felt like he was standing on the edge of the old abandoned uranium mine near the Curry, his mates daring him to jump into the vibrantly blue-green water filling the crater. Did he want to put another bloke’s willy in his mouth? The gnawing urge to know rose up.

He jumped.

Nodding, he wondered the best way to do it in a bed. He didn’t need to wonder long as Ethan spread his thighs and urged Clay to kneel between his long legs. Gasping in a breath, Clay ducked his head and put the tip in his mouth before he could chicken out, holding the base the way Ethan had done.

Ethan groaned as Clay sucked tentatively on the top couple inches. He was doing it. He was an official cocksucker. Inhaling through his nose, Clay lowered his head, sucking harder and taking more of Ethan into his mouth.

Ethan cried out. “Oh, fuck. That’s so good. Just like that. Whatever comes naturally.”

A voice hissed that it shouldn’t be natural, but it was. He couldn’t deny the release somewhere deep inside, a closed fist that was finally loosening its grip. Ethan was hard and throbbing in his mouth as Clay tried to take more of him, spit gathering. The flesh was a little spongey and tasted of sweat and salt and Ethan.

Just as when he’d held the power of Ethan’s arousal in his hand, tasting the drops on the tip and feeling the life of him inside his mouth—knowing that Ethan felt this desire for Clay—was profound in a way he couldn’t understand. Couldn’t deny.

He licked sloppily, probably doing it all wrong, but Ethan didn’t seem to mind. He ran his fingers through Clay’s hair, tugging and relaxing, never too sharp. He muttered, “You’re doing so good,” and it thrilled Clay to hear it.

Trying to take him deeper, Clay choked and had to pull off. Ethan caressed his head and said, “It’s okay. Just go as far as you can. It feels amazing. I love everything you’re doing.”

So Clay explored more with his tongue, his jaw aching a bit from having his mouth too full. He pressed at Ethan’s thighs, opening him up, loving the scratch of leg hair under his palms.

“Oh, fuck. Can you lick my balls?”

Hearing the words sent lust spiraling through Clay. He’d never heard such outrageous things being said outside of porn, but he’d never been much for it and had never really understood why.

Maybe this is a hint, you wally.

“Yeah, lower. That’s it.” Ethan moaned, his head thrown back. With his long legs splayed and mouth open, he looked absolutely shameless—and beautiful. It wasn’t a word Clay had associated with men before, but it was the only thing that came to mind as Ethan came, his balls slipping from Clay’s mouth as they emptied.

He was nothing but beautiful stretched out with the white drops of his semen sprayed over his belly. Clay was half-hard again himself, although he knew he wouldn’t be able to come again so quickly. As if reading his mind, Ethan sat up and gave Clay a long pull, kissing him slow and dirty before whispering, “We have all night.”