Author: Anna Martin
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/anna-martin/page,6,549652-anna_martins_british_boys_box_set_my_prince_-_the_impossible_boy_-_cricket.html
“This is nice.”
“Thank you. I’m, uh, just going to use the bathroom quickly. Make yourself at home.”
George nodded again. Alex silently took a deep breath and almost ran across the hall to the bathroom.
The flat was gorgeous, George decided. He didn’t really have many opinions when it came to interior design, but it was clear someone had taken a lot of care with this place. Upstairs was stunning: beautiful ceilings, warm wood floors, classy furniture. Down here too. The bed had four half posts, one in each corner, huge thick stumps of wood that reached up to his waist.
An errant thought about tying Alex spread-eagled to those posts crossed George’s mind, and he pushed it away.
It was warm in this little room, with its pale walls, wooden floors, and sparse furnishings. When George pulled off his socks, he decided there was underfloor heating. He couldn’t figure out how else the floors would be so warm, especially without any radiators on the walls. Alex had set a chair in one corner of the room, under the window and between the small wardrobe and chest of drawers. The chair was upholstered in a warm tartan tweed fabric, cream and green and purple checks, the fabric slightly rough and prickly when he ran his palm over it.
He hesitated for a moment, then decided not to take any more of his clothes off and went to the bed and sprawled over the covers on his back. When Alex reappeared in the doorway, he was dishevelled, the button fly of his jeans undone. George felt the smile tug at his mouth, and he licked his bottom lip.
Alex was as gorgeous as he remembered. Pale, freckled skin, a toned, lithe body. He didn’t have defined muscles, except in his arms, but he looked soft and sweet.
George reached down and squeezed his cock through his jeans, making Alex laugh.
“You look comfortable,” he said, shutting the door behind himself and padding over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and looked down at George.
“I am. Wanna join me?”
Alex’s expression was liquid, warm, and he leaned down and kissed his agreement. George wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s neck and held him close as their mouths moved together, gentle at first, dry lips brushing together, back and forth, then catching and slowly taking it deeper.
Alex shucked off his jeans and swung his legs around so he could stretch out full-length on the bed. His hand stole under the hem of George’s shirt and pressed against his waist, causing a shiver to dance over George’s skin.
Kissing slow and easy like this was hot, George decided, as he caught a few strands of Alex’s silky blond hair between his knuckles and tugged.
“Okay, okay,” Alex said with a laugh, rubbing both palms over George’s chest. “Give me a sec.”
“Sure,” George said. He ran his hand over his face, knowing his cheeks were heated and probably red. That happened.
Alex slid off the bed and went to the dresser, pulling his phone from the pile of jeans on the floor and sticking it in a dock.
“Do you mind if I put some music on?”
“Uh, no. Do you mind if I ask why you want to?”
Alex huffed a laugh but didn’t look over. “Because I like it?”
“You like listening to music while you get fucked?” George teased.
“Seriously? Keep being cocky, because it turns me on.”
George laughed then and slumped onto his back, stretching his arms over his head so his shirt rode up, exposing his belly. He didn’t recognise the music when it started, something vaguely folky that he would never choose to listen to but didn’t have any strong objections to.
Alex smiled, then reached behind himself to pull his T-shirt up and off.
George made a sound low in the back of his throat.
“What?” Alex paused with his shirt halfway off, the collar caught on the edge of his jaw.
George couldn’t help it—he laughed. “Nothing. Sorry.”
Alex’s shirt landed on the floor with a soft thud. “That wasn’t nothing.”
He walked over to the bed wearing only his boxers now, the thin trail of silky blond hair revealed.
“Tell me,” Alex said.
George watched, his throat dry as Alex crawled over him, kissing George’s belly, then up his chest, pushing his T-shirt out of the way as he went.
“I might have… a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah.”
“What sort of thing? A kink?”
“Maybe,” George said, his voice catching when Alex circled George’s nipple with his tongue.
“Then I really want to know.”
“I like… watching… people taking their shirts off,” he finished in a rush. He could feel his cheeks heating, his toes curling with embarrassment.
“You have a kink,” Alex crowed softly.
“It’s not as much as a kink…,” George said. He huffed as Alex rubbed his palms over his chest, the ridges and valleys of his hand catching on the skin he’d just got wet.
“No?”
“Tell me.”
He felt his cheeks heat further. George decided the best way to hide this was to pull his own T-shirt off, giving himself a chance to recuperate.
“It’s just a thing. I dunno. Bare chests are nice.”
“Yes they are,” Alex said, slightly lasciviously, no judgement in his voice.
“So,” George asked while Alex made work of George’s jeans, shucking them off before climbing up and straddling George’s waist. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I thought you don’t bottom.”
“We don’t have to fuck was what I meant.”
Alex started a slow grind, his hips rocking back and forth, rubbing their cocks together deliciously. He was wearing tight, white, Calvin Klein underwear that showed off his rapidly growing bulge.
“Oh, I want to.”
“Then why does whether or not I bottom have anything to do with it?”
The confused, then reluctantly impressed expression on Alex’s face made George grin. He lifted his hips into the grind and grabbed hold of Alex’s tight ass to keep him close.
“And, besides,” he continued, as if there was nothing else going on between them. “It’s not that I won’t ever bottom. I just haven’t before. And I don’t want my first time to be with some random hookup.”
“But… we went on a date.”
“I know.”
“Am I still a random hookup?”
“No.”
“You’re a virgin?”
“I haven’t had anyone fuck me before, no.”
“Oh.”
“Can we have sex now?”
Alex laughed, apparently amused at this, and nodded. “Yes.”
In one swift move, George reached up to put his hand between Alex’s shoulder blades, then flipped him neatly onto his back. While Alex was still recovering from this—a wrestling move George had used with his brother countless times—George grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head.
“Hard and fast still good for you?” George asked, his voice low in Alex’s ear.
“Unnghhh.”
“I agree.”
George rocked their hips together, their erections catching between the layers of cloth. Alex reached down and took hold of George’s ass, two handfuls, and squeezed. George laughed and bit his ear.
“You like my ass?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I like yours too.”
“You don’t need to sweet talk me, George,” Alex said, still lifting his hips up in the bump-’n’-grind thing they had going on. “Please, just fuck me.”
George bit Alex’s lower lip until he whimpered, then smirked.
“I can do that.”
Every breath seemed to catch in Alex’s throat as George worked him over with slick fingers, then pushed in slowly, an inch at a time. He watched carefully and absorbed those little breathy sounds: moans and grunts and “oh!”s of pleasure. Wanting to take his time, at least to start with, George pulled Alex’s legs up to c
url around his waist, and rested his weight on his hands so he had better control of the situation.
“Feel good?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Oh fuck yeah,” Alex gasped. “Kiss me.”
That was easy. George leaned forward and made the kiss hot and fast, even if his body was still going slow. That made Alex’s fingers curl, digging hard into his muscles, and George liked that. It was fucking sexy, having this gorgeous man underneath him being wanton and lusty and desperate.
After that, Little Brain took over, and George stopped thinking. His world narrowed to his body and Alex’s and all the ways they could make each other feel good. The music in the background faded to nothing, too quiet to compete with the roaring blood in his ears. He didn’t want to listen to some hipster with a guitar anyway, not when Alex was loud during sex. Loud. And that was so very hot.
“I wanna make you come,” George growled into Alex’s ear. “I wanna hear you scream.”
“Oh Jesus,” Alex whimpered.
“You are too fucking hot. Gonna make you feel so good. Hold on.”
Alex’s knuckles kept scraping George’s belly as he tugged on his own cock, like he was desperately trying to keep up with the pounding George was giving him. He kept making those noises too, when their lips weren’t mashed together, and when he groaned, “Gonna come, George,” George pressed their foreheads together and rode it out with him, feeling Alex’s come as it spattered and smeared between their chests.
“Shit, fuck,” George grunted, and his orgasm exploded out of him, primal and raw. His gut clenched and he grit his teeth so hard his jaw hurt and yet, through all that, he still felt Alex’s whisper-light kiss on his cheek.
For a few seconds, the blood pounding in his head blocked out all other sound, then Alex’s baffled laugh broke through the white noise, and George gulped in a breath.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” Alex laughed and slapped George’s bare ass. “Get the fuck off me.”
George grunted and grabbed the base of his dick, holding the condom in place as he pulled out. He rolled off the bed and shuffled across the hall to the bathroom.
This one was nearly as nice as the one in the Scotsman, except Alex’s bathroom was stone tiles and wooden flooring, warm and pale, instead of dark and cool.
He flushed the condom and used a flannel to wipe the rapidly cooling come off his chest, then washed his face and hands. Jesus. That man was going to kill him before long. His heart rate was only just starting to return to normal.
When he went back into the bedroom, Alex was sprawled on his back wearing loose pyjama shorts.
“Are you going to stay?” Alex asked while George hovered in the doorway.
“Is this you inviting me to stay?”
“Yes,” Alex said, grinning. “Please stay. I have bacon and coffee for the morning?”
“You didn’t need to convince me. But I’m convinced.”
Alex threw back the duvet, welcoming him into the bed, and George slipped under it. Alex immediately rolled away, onto his side.
“Spoon me?”
“What, again? Already? I need some recovery time, love.”
“I don’t mean fuck me,” Alex said, looking back over his shoulder and laughing. “Just, you know. Hold me.”
“Oh.”
George pulled the edge of the duvet up, then scooted in close so he could wrap his arm around Alex’s waist, on top of the covers. Alex grabbed hold of his arm with both hands and wriggled back until they were pressed together. Close.
George kissed his cheek. “I don’t do this, you know. Snuggling.”
“What do you mean? You are doing this.”
“Apparently you’re an exception to the rule.”
“You’re the exception to the rule,” Alex said, clearly being antagonistic for the sake of it. “Shut up and go to sleep.”
“Okay. Night, Alex.”
“Good night.”
Chapter Five
The next morning Alex stayed in bed longer than he normally would. It was quiet and comfortable, and he had George’s strong arm around his waist, holding him close. Plus George’s big dick poking him in the thigh, which was sort of funny and making him horny too.
George snored. Not like a plane taking off, more a like a rumble in his chest. It was cute, and Alex decided it was definitely something he could get used to.
First, he had to piss.
Very carefully, he extracted himself from George’s grip and slid out of bed, wincing a little as he straightened up. George was a big boy, in all dimensions, and though he had absolutely no problem with that, it made for interesting mornings-after.
He quickly crossed to the bathroom, shivering in the morning coolness, and went to the panel in the hallway to turn the heating on after he’d finished. George was awake when he got back to the bedroom, stretching and yawning like a lion.
“Morning,” Alex said easily.
George grumbled, scratched his chest, then rolled out of bed, slapping Alex’s ass on his way to the bathroom.
“Charming,” Alex murmured to himself, but he couldn’t help his grin.
He got back into bed, hoping that George would take the hint and join him again. A few moments later, the toilet flushed, and George appeared in the doorway in his full morning glory.
Christ, he was beautiful.
“You’re not getting up?”
“Not if I don’t have to. Do you need to rush off?”
“No,” George said thoughtfully. He still hesitated before getting back into bed, though.
Alex held the duvet back for him, then threw it over them both before snuggling into George’s side. With a gruff laugh, George lifted his arm and let Alex rest his head on George’s chest. This, Alex decided, would take no getting used to at all.
“Have you got plans for today?” George asked. In the mornings his voice was rough, much lower than his normal speaking voice. With his head pressed to George’s chest, Alex could hear it rumble.
“Not really. I need to go food shopping at some point.”
“You do that yourself?”
Alex laughed. “Yeah. Of course. I cook most nights, so I need to go shopping for myself, otherwise how would I know what was in the cupboards?”
“Oh.”
“I think we need to talk,” Alex said. He shuffled out of George’s embrace, regretting the need to do so, and lay on his side so they could look at each other.
He half expected George to bolt; instead he copied the action, and Alex was suddenly looking into those intense grey eyes.
“I like you,” Alex said without preamble.
For a moment George fought the grin, then it spread slowly over his face. “I guess I like you too.”
“But I think you have an issue with who I am.”
“Issue is a strong word.”
“You have… concerns?”
George nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Christ, it was like getting blood from a stone.
The long pauses between words were something Alex would definitely need to learn to adapt to. George was a thinker, it seemed, and he picked his words carefully. That was almost antithetical to Alex—he had a habit of jumping in feet first, speaking before his brain had a chance to catch up. That got him into trouble from time to time.
George did not have this problem.
“We’re so different,” George said eventually. “Liking each other, or having crazy good sex, that doesn’t change who we are.”
“I have no desire to change who you are.”
“You don’t,” George said. “That doesn’t mean everyone will see it the same way.”
“We’re nowhere near an ‘everyone’ stage yet, George.”
“I’m not out. Not really. I have to think about whether or not I want to be.”
Alex hadn’t considered that. He wrapped the duvet more securely around himself, crossing his arms over his chest.
�
�Do you need… time?”
George huffed a laugh. “I don’t know.”
“Space?”
“Maybe.”
“Jesus.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a lot for me to handle, you know? I just fucked royalty.”
“Actually, you fucked royalty twice, and blew him once.”
“True.”
“I can’t change who I am, George,” Alex said softly. He wanted to reach out, to touch George in any way he’d let Alex touch him. Something held him back, though. “I can’t change my crazy family, I can’t change how or where I grew up or who I am now, any more than you can.”
“I grew up on a council estate in Manchester, about two minutes from Moss Side, which is probably one of the most notorious gang hubs in the country outside London. My parents had too many kids, but we don’t live on state handouts. My dad owns his own business, and my mum works night shifts in ASDA to make sure all the girls get everything they need. My sister got knocked up when she was fifteen.”
George rolled onto his back and rubbed his hands over his face.
“If I had come out when I was a teenager, I would have got my head kicked in every day. Every fucking day, Alex. There’s no veneer of middle class respectability about me or mine. We’re fucking scum.”
“Hey,” Alex said, suddenly angry. “Wait a sec. You don’t get to say stuff like that.” He pulled George’s hands away from his face. “Is this what you’re worried about?”
“Partly, yeah.”
“Well, don’t. Okay, I went to private school, but I’m not some Tory snob who looks down on people because of where they grew up. People make judgments about me just as quickly as they make judgments about you, George.”
“Yeah, but when they look at you, they expect some rich prick who thinks he’s better than everyone else. When people look at me, they see one of the few people in society it’s acceptable to look down on.
“We’re not benefits scabs,” he said suddenly. “We’re not. My mum gets child tax credits, but anyone can get those. We work. Maguires work. That’s what my dad always taught us.”
“My mum is an elitist former debutante who’s never worked a day in her life,” Alex said with a wry smile.