Playing Games (part three)


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It wasn’t far to the hotel and Simon was thankful for it. As the afternoon had given way to early evening the temperature had dropped by several degrees, the pavements already sparkling with frost and small delicately iced puddles crackled underfoot.
He hunched further into his coat and, as his companion had offered to carry his bags, burrowed his clenched fists deeper into his pockets. As they walked, they were mostly silent but Simon was acutely aware of the sexual tension between them as they passed slowly along Duncombe Place and Christmas revellers tumbled into and out of pubs and hotels along the rout.

Ahead of them, flood lit and rising majestically above the surrounding streets, was the Minster, it’s Gothic splendour a testament in stone to man’s creative genius. Beautiful and awe inspiring, at any other time, Simon would have been clicking away with his SLR but not tonight, oh not tonight, he had other things on his mind.

Turning right as they passed the cathedral Simon looked upward at the hotel sign bearing the features of one of histories most notorious conspirators; Guy Fawkes. The hotel, reputedly the birth place of the arch traitor, was their destination. Coming to a halt just beyond the door, the guy turned to face him and placing his hand behind Simons head pulled him gently towards him, kissing him lightly on the mouth. ‘You sure about this?’ he murmured his warm lips grazing Simons cold cheek, and Simon, mute with longing could only nod yes, oh Christ yes.

As they walked up to the attic suite, the guy grabbed Simons hand, pulling him up the stairs, their footsteps muffled on the plush carpet and the sounds of diners and drinkers below receding as they climbed higher. Unsteady hands fumbled with the key as Simon watched, his breath coming in short gasps, from the climb or need, he couldn’t tell.

Success and the door unlocked, the guy pushed it open and Simon followed him into the room which was already glowing with the soft light of table lamps.
Barely had the door closed and Simon was shoved almost roughly up against the wood, hands pressing against his shoulders, his mouth crushed in a ravenous kiss which he willingly opened for. Fisting into the guys hair, he pulled him closer, tongues met, duelled, parted. Simon moaned into the mouth moving so beautifully, so urgently against his, felt a knee gently nudging his thighs apart.

Simon was the first to break the kiss, yelping in pain as he pushed the other guy off. ‘Ouch! Christ, wait a minuet’, he grimaced, reaching behind to rub at his back, while the other man stood disoriented and disheveled ‘What?’ his voice was sharp with frustration, ‘What’s wrong for God’s sake?’
‘The bloody door knob’s jabbing into my back and it’s bloody painful’. For seconds the guy looked at Simon his mouth twitching, then, grinning broadly, he pulled Simon away from the door and into his arms. ‘Its not been your day has it?’, he said, his breath ghosting across Simons lips which felt bruised and swollen from the ferocity of that kiss. ‘You could say,’ Simon held the guys face in his hands and captured the softly parted lips in another deep kiss. ‘Perhaps it may be about to get better’. He moved away from the door then before taking the others hand and leading him towards the bed.

The chimes of the Minster were signalling midnight and Simon, his body still suffused with the afterglow of lovemaking, snuggled up closer to the man lying asleep next to him.
As Christmas Eve’s went, this was perhaps the weirdest he’d ever known. The ‘row’ with Josh had culminated in some of the hottest action he’d ever experienced. The thrill of ‘elicit’ sex had definitely enhanced the situation. Being picked up in a bar; now what, he supposed could be more spontaneous and downright decadent than that.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Simon reached across and ran a tender finger across his partners unshaven cheek and as he did so, Josh’s eyes fluttered open, those beautiful expressive eyes set like brilliant sapphires in the well loved face. ‘Hi babe’, his voice was thick with sleep, his eyes heavy and seductive still.
Simon leaned over, kissing him lightly, ‘you’re a mad sod, Josh Grant. I should’ve guessed you’d planned the whole bloody thing’.
‘You enjoyed it though didn’t you?’ grinning, Josh wrapped his arms around his lover pulling him down so Simon’s head rested on his chest. ‘Good idea of mine I thought, to pretend I wanted to eat in one place when you wanted another. I knew you’d get pissed off about that’.
‘How did you know I wouldn’t come straight back here?’ Simon asked.
‘I didn’t, I just hoped you’d go for a pint. And knowing you as I do, I knew you’d go somewhere familiar. And when you answered my text, “Bridge, yes”, well after that the whole thing was easy’.
The text message, Simon chuckled as he remembered it, “Want to play, where are you?” Well, he’d always said being picked up in a bar by a gorgeous guy was a long held fantasy of his, and Josh had remembered. They knew each other so well, and when Josh had walked into that bar and then asked him ‘Anyone sitting here’ Simon had cottoned on immediately and played along.

Simon felt the rumbles of laughter vibrate through Josh’s chest, ‘God, you did look funny when you started choking. I’m sorry but I couldn’t help laughing’.
‘Well thanks for that’, Simon turned to face Josh, ‘that was totally unplanned of course, but you still have that effect on me when you stare at me like that’.
‘What, you choke every time?’
‘Ah, you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s Christmas Day. Listen, they’re going mad downstairs in the bar’.
‘Mmm’, Josh pulled Simon up towards him, his mouth warm as he covered Simons in a deep kiss, ‘Happy Christmas’ he murmured, his hand gently stroking along Simons hip, a gesture rich in meaning and promise.
‘Same to you, lover’, Simon returned the kiss before asking, ‘Want to play?’

The End.

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Photo credits,
Duncombe Place York & Lovers,
Both by Google Images.

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