Naughty Nibbles Anthology Read online

  Chapter Three

  It was David's undeniable pleasure to perform this service. In his opinion, in the hurry and rush of life, too many daily rituals had been bastardized. Disposable razors, shaving cream from an aerosol can, instant coffee. Life was to be appreciated, savoured, revered. He'd seen too much, lived through too much to take anything for granted.

  And teaching Callum to appreciate the finer things...? He could think of no greater use of his time.

  He lifted Callum's balls, stretching the skin taut. Then he placed the sharp edge of the blade against his most tender skin.

  David felt humbled. There was nothing but trust in the younger man's eyes. So, why, then had he waited so long to consummate this relationship? Already, it was spectacular.

  Pubic hair was wiped away in a rich foam of lather and water. “That wasn't so bad, was it?"

  "Do it again."

  He did, stretching skin, swiping the Damascus steel where it was taut. “Much nicer,” he said. “Sex will be even better for you this way."

  "It couldn't be any better."

  When his balls were cleaned, David moved aside Callum's cock. No easy task, that. The gentlest of touches made it swell into readiness. Ignoring the beautiful sight, he removed the hair where Callum's penis rested. “You'll want to keep it clean shaven, else it will itch as the hair grows back."

  "Know anyone who'll do it for me?"

  David let that pass. He wasn't about to give false hope or say things in the heat of the moment that he might otherwise regret. When he was finished, he said, “Wait here.” He fetched another basin of water, this time filled with warm water. Callum moaned as David tenderly cleaned him.

  "Now? Now can we fuck?"

  "I imagine you were maddening to your parents waiting for Father Christmas."

  "They always gave in and started giving me presents two days before Christmas."

  "Incorrigible. Turn over."

  "Turn? Over?"

  "It'll be easier for me to shave your perineum and arsehole."

  For a change, he didn't argue.

  "On your knees, face on the pillow.” When he did, David added, “Reach back and spread your cheeks.” He used warm water and took his time making sure the area was completely free from hair before rinsing him and blotting him dry with a towel. “Feel it,” he said.

  "I like it."

  "Look at yourself in the mirror."

  While he was admiring himself, David carried the bowls back into the bathroom and tossed the towels in the hamper. He grabbed a tube of lubricant before re-joining Callum.

  Impatiently, Callum was already bent over the bed, waiting. “Back on the bed."

  "Damn it!” David ploughed his fingers into his hair. He paced back and forth, his full-of-life cock a thing to behold. Then, with a ragged sigh, he faced David.

  "Come here, then,” David ordered.

  Obediently Callum did.

  "Sometimes, it's good to enjoy the moment,” David said.

  "And sometimes it's good to let go, let your passion have full rein."

  "Like we did at the gym?"

  "Yes.” He lowered his eyes, as if remembering.

  "Good. Then you'll have something to compare it to.” Holding Callum's head steady between his hands, David brushed his lips against Callum's. God, the boy was sweetly responsive.

  Their tongues met in that age-old dance of dominance and submission, the spark of attraction that flared into passion. There was something about Callum, despite his success and rabid fans that was strangely appealing. An innocence that he'd never lost.

  Callum drew back and looked him in the eye. He smoothed David's brows and said, “Let me be the one."

  He knew what Cal meant. Let me be the one to break you out of your shell.

  Callum offered all that he had, linking his arms behind David's neck. Not pressing their bodies together, he instead nipped at David's jawbone before claiming his mouth in a ride of passion. Fifteen months in a middle-eastern desert had left him a changed man, but this young man was reigniting something he thought long extinguished.

  "The bed,” David said, dragging his head away and ending the kiss. He was close to losing control and taking Callum the way he wanted. “On the bed, on your knees, like you were when I shaved you. Dip your back so your bum is as high as you can get it."

  He climbed up on the bed and knelt behind Callum. “That's a sight, right there,” he said, tracing long strokes down Callum's flanks. Without warning, he placed a direct kiss to Callum's anus.

  Callum's legs trembled. If they were still training together, David knew exactly which muscle group they'd be working on for strength and stamina. As it was, he curled his tongue and sought entrance to that darkest, most intimate place.

  "Oh my god. I've never—You're going to eat me?"

  Eating, rimming, pleasuring, whatever he wanted to call it. David was going to do it. “Oh, yes.” And David was going to enjoy every minute of it, as much, if not more than Callum did. “Relax. Allow your hole to open.” He reached over to grab hold of him. “Stretch your arms back. Flat on the mattress. Yes. Just like that.” He took hold of Callum's wrists. Not only was he holding him captive, but he could get leverage from the grip, as well.

  David licked Callum, starting at his balls and going up his perineum.

  "Crikey, David!” Callum jumped a few centimetres. He'd have wiggled away if David wasn't holding him so forcefully.

  "Much better without hair?"

  "I've never felt those kinds of sensations."

  He gave Callum another closed mouth kiss, then he ran his tongue over the area, moistening it.

  Callum swung his hips from side to side, wordlessly asking for even more.

  David delivered.

  He pushed his tongue into Callum's hole. Then he drew back, and went back to kissing and licking. He could see his lover twitch as he used his lips and tongue to stimulate the sensitive nerve endings around his anal opening.

  Despite Callum's impatience, David preferred to start this way. Toys and his cock, even his finger weren't nearly as sensitive.

  This time, their first, he chose to tenderly show Callum how wonderful rimming could be. But another time, if Callum had his wish, David would do it in a much nastier, more passion-filled way, and he'd definitely make Callum return the favour.

  As he used his tongue to penetrate Callum's arse, Callum began to relax. His balls swung gently, full. And his cock was engorged. Looking at him made David want to come.

  Drawing a breath, he pulled down on his own scrotum. It was a time-honoured technique he'd used to control his own arousal. This time, damn it, it wasn't working. And he'd already shot his load down Callum's throat once this evening.

  Thinking about his partner and not himself, he forced his tongue deeper, encouraging him to relax his sphincter muscles.

  Callum moaned. “David!"

  He was at the end of his own tolerance. “I want you bent over the bed."

  Callum's motions where short and jerky, already he was obviously having a difficult time moving. David was sympathetic; he knew exactly how the other man felt. He grabbed the tube of lubricant that he'd stashed on the nightstand.

  "Let me lube you,” Callum said.

  "Yeah.” After all the pains he'd taken to make sure they took the time to enjoy the pleasures of lovemaking instead of just racing to the finish line, he needed to let Callum do this. He handed over the tube.

  For the first time, David saw what made Callum such an excellent footballer. He'd lacked focus at the club, but right now, nothing seemed to exist except his cock.

  Callum squirted the gel in his palm, then cupped his hand around David's penis. With long, gliding strokes, he coated the entire shaft. He squeezed, too, and released at exactly the right time. He, not David, was taking the ordinary to a higher level. “Perfect,” David said. “Now, if you please, put some on my first three fingers."

  After doing so, Callum snapped the lid closed, dropped the t
ube on the bed and impetuously kissed David's cheek before bending over the bed.

  His lover was exquisite.

  And he couldn't wait to have his cock buried deep inside his arse.

  He easily slid a lubricated finger into the tight hole. It'd already been stretched a little, but not nearly enough.

  The second finger was a bit more of a challenge, but David persevered. He slipped both fingers in and out, simulating a slow fuck.

  When Callum shifted his weight from side to side and spread his legs again, David continued, adding a third digit.

  The boy gasped.

  "You're doing well."

  "I want..."

  "Tell me."

  "More. I want more."

  David fed the head of his cock into the unbearably tight hole. Callum's sphincter muscles formed a tight band for him to work against. “Relax,” he said softly.

  "You're just so big."

  "I'll be patient."

  Cal nodded.

  "Breathe."

  "It's been a while for me. You'd think I was a freaking virgin."

  At this point, David's back teeth were ground together. He was fighting his body's urge to drive deep and dominate. “I'll pull out and do it again.” He took hold of Callum's shoulders, holding him steady for his penetration.

  Sweat dampened Callum's back and shoulders, the scent colliding with that of sex to make David even harder.

  He made slow, shallow strokes until Callum's sphincter stretched to accommodate his width. “You're there,” he said, when he was seated to the hilt. He sucked in a breath.

  "Jeez!” he said when David gyrated his hips, just a little.

  After a few seconds, Callum pushed back and David recognised the age-old signal. Holding onto Callum's shoulder with one hand, David pulled out and then thrust in deep.

  Beneath him, his partner whimpered and moaned, little sounds of measured bliss.

  David rode him hard, fucking, demanding, insisting. He stretched him. Filled him.

  More. This time it was David who wanted more.

  He grabbed Callum's hips and held him steady.

  Callum cursed. Then he jerked, shooting his wad all over the sheets.

  Closing his eyes, no longer holding anything back, David pounded Callum's arse, fucking him with all he had.

  His muscles clenched and his cock swelled and he pulled out to ejaculate all over Callum's back. He pumped his cock with one hand and rubbed the hot semen into Callum's skin with the other.

  David's eyes were still closed, and he surrendered to post coital lethargy that immobilised his body, struggling to bring his breathing back under control.

  He was barely aware of Callum turning over.

  "David?"

  "Hmm?” He opened his eyes and blinked, looking down.

  Callum's hazel eyes were dazed, and he inhaled deeply through his nose. “I love you."

  Chapter Four

  He'd blown it; big time.

  Despite his earlier decision not to drink tonight, Callum changed his mind. He was going to let loose. Wanting to remember every possible minute had been a great goal, when he'd wanted to remember every moment.

  Now, not so much.

  He wasn't classy like his mentor; Callum kept his stash of booze in a cabinet above the refrigerator. He had a few high-end bottles, but they were for sipping. The rest of the night—night, hell, the rest of the wee morning hours—was about obliteration. Nothing fancy, just an all out race, a sprint to the finish line.

  Unconsciousness was officially his next goal. And if he did it right, he'd sleep through half of tomorrow, too, since he'd fucked up his life so good he didn't have a single thing to do. Well, a look at his PDA would show an appointment with his trainer, only now he didn't have a trainer.

  To have a trainer, he'd have had to keep his dick in his jeans.

  He slapped the side of his head with his palm. If there'd ever been a more stupid fuck on the face of the planet...

  In less than three hours, he'd blown everything. And the worst of it? David's knowing kindness, as if every man who blew him looked him in the eye and confessed undying love.

  Stupid.

  Now he had no lover—after only one session of the greatest sex known to man—and he'd lost his mentor. Oh yeah, and he'd lost his pride somewhere along the way while he was at it. Not bad for an evening's work. Usually it took him days to screw things up so completely.

  That part he could deal with, he knew, uncapping the first bottle he found. Did it really matter if it was bourbon or scotch or vodka? He reached for a glass, but even that reminded him of David, so he took three long belts straight from the bottle. For good measure, he swiped his bare forearm across his mouth. Class act. You can take the lad out of Lancashire, but you can't take Lancashire out of the lad. He'd heard that often enough growing up, now hadn't he?

  After his heart-felt confession, David had frozen. His smile had vanished. He'd awkwardly patted Callum's shoulder. Then, when he realised Callum was dead serious, that it wasn't just a momentary burst of insanity, he'd smiled, as if to take away the sting of rejection.

  "How about a shower?” he'd suggested. “I have a double-headed one."

  "Great,” he said, but he would rather have died than face David's rejection again.

  So, while, David went to set the water, Callum did what he did so well. He left. On the bustling London street corner, he'd hailed a taxi to take him back to his car. Then he'd driven home in silence.

  Leaving off all the lights, god knew there was enough light from outside to guide in an aeroplane, he tossed himself onto the settee and drank some more. With the remote, he flipped on the telly and scanned through the channels. Nothing captured his attention, especially not a replay of one of his games on the twenty-four hour sports channel.

  There was enough replay going on in his own head. Him getting out of the shower, David turning to face him. Him on his knees with David's cock filling his mouth. Him on David's bed, watching the sharp edge of a razor coming toward his balls. Then feelings, sensations, the tenderness in his kiss, the feel of his mouth, his tongue seeking to pry open his tight anal hole, the feeling of his insides being filled and stretched and used. Of satisfying and being satisfied.

  Then...

  Loneliness.

  Emptiness.

  Isolation.

  Because he'd meant every damn word of his confession. He loved David Browning. Had loved him since he stepped foot in Balls to the Walls.

  Alcohol was good.

  Too much of it was even better.

  He flipped the channel. Gay porn. Great. He'd watch that, but he wasn't much into masochism.

  A military special was on another channel. Vehicles being blasted apart, incendiary devices being blown up. He froze. What the hell did he know about the man he'd fallen in love with?

  Callum remembered the scars, thought of how controlled he was emotionally. Who the hell was Callum to expect David to open his heart after one hot hook-up? Just because he'd been starry eyed for months, didn't mean David had even noticed him.

  He put away the bottle and his feelings of self-pity and condemnation. The David he knew wouldn't want that. He'd want him to be a man, not to run, instead, to focus.

  Tomorrow, not tonight, would be the scariest of his life.

  * * * *

  "I owe you an apology."

  David looked up. He'd known Callum was there, in the doorway of his private office at the club, a place no one else had ever dared to tread. How could he not have known Callum was here? Even when he was trying to be quiet, the man had an energy that commanded attention. Charisma, it could be called. Even without that, he plain and simply smelled good. And since David had buried his head between the man's legs, his tongue in his arse, he'd recognise his scent anywhere.

  David had intentionally not glanced up from the computer screen. For the second time in two days, he'd been at a loss.

  He'd been pissed when he'd come out of the bathroom to
find Callum gone, although he himself had headed there to buy some much-needed thinking time.

  As the evening wore on, his fury had turned to a cold pit of emptiness. He wasn't sure he'd ever see the boy again. He'd handled things all wrong, but he'd done the best he could.

  He'd planned on sending Callum home for the night, regardless. He wasn't into cozy sleepovers and tea over the morning paper. But it would have been on his terms, and damn it, they'd have made plans, no matter how vague, to see each other again. There would have been a lingering good-bye. And because Callum was involved, it would have likely been a bit passionate, as well.

  Instead, he'd had an empty, quiet house.

  And he hadn't known what to do. Chase Callum halfway across London to his fashionable Knightsbridge address? And what would he have done when he got there? He wasn't prepared to offer professions of love or commitment to anyone.

  So he did what any rational man would do. He'd gone for a swim and then gone to bed where he'd masturbated to images of Callum and fantasies of the evening they should have shared.

  He'd slept badly and woken up in a foul mood. Even a 10k run hadn't put him to rights.

  He looked up now, and his groin tightened in remembrance. It had been good for him. He'd come, hard, yesterday. Three times, if you counted the masturbation. And yet a single glance at Callum gave him a stiffy.

  "I don't know you,” Callum said, his shoulder propped against the door jamb. He looked sexy in that pullover and tight jeans. His eyes were bright, but he couldn't tell if they were clear, as well. The way he lazed in the entrance made it appear he had every right to be there.

  "No,” David agreed. “You don't know me."

  "You haven't let me."

  He grabbed a pen that he kept above the row of numbers on the computer keyboard, then he leaned back in his chair. “I haven't let anyone. It's nothing personal."

  He ‘walked’ the pen between his fingers, then flipped it and did it again. Pausing, he took the direct route. “Why did you run?"

  "Because I'm an idiot. I know you don't feel the same way I do, and I felt vulnerable after I told you I loved you."