Author: Anna Martin
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/anna-martin/page,13,549652-anna_martins_british_boys_box_set_my_prince_-_the_impossible_boy_-_cricket.html
George stood and stretched, feeling his aching shoulder protest, and grabbed a pair of joggers from the floor of his room. He pulled them on and went to the bathroom, relieved his bladder, then made his way downstairs.
“What the fuck is going on?” he grouched, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. Jodie and Dev were scowling at each other, both of them red in the face, while Marvin looked like he’d do anything to get his girlfriend and drag her out of the room. Rather than doing anything about it, he was cowering in a corner.
“We’re out of coffee,” Jodie snapped.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” George muttered, going around her to the cupboard where he kept his groceries. They each had one cupboard assigned to them, plus one bigger pantry for stuff they shared. He had a box of teabags and dumped one into a mug, then poured water from the freshly-boiled kettle over the top.
“We’re out of milk too.”
George shrugged at her, dumped the teabag in the sink, and leaned against the counter blowing over the surface of the brew.
“Are you going to put that in the bin?” Jodie asked pointedly, staring daggers at the soggy teabag.
“Nope,” George said. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Jesus, George, just tidy it up,” Marvin said. The poor guy looked like he was about to cry.
“This is what I mean, Marv,” Jodie said. “This place is a fucking dump and the people who live here are fucking scum. You should move out.”
“Uh, rude,” George said under his breath.
There was a pounding on the wall and George forced back the urge to jump. Simon had the room on the other side of the wall, next to the kitchen, the only bedroom downstairs. He had to put up with far too much of this shit.
“Would you lot shut the fuck up?” he yelled, his voice far too clear. The walls really were paper-thin.
Someone else stumbled down the stairs and George’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile. He wasn’t too bothered about being up early, he had plans for the day anyway. He guessed most of his housemates had hangovers, though, and this was the very early hours of the morning for most of them.
Calum barely raised his head as he went to the pantry and yanked the door open.
“There’s no coffee,” Jodie said tightly. “Someone used it all and didn’t replace it or put it on the list.”
“I’ve got teabags if you want one,” George said.
“There’s no milk either,” Jodie added.
“Jodie,” Calum said, his voice thick with Scotland this morning. He rubbed his fists over his eyes. “You’re a bonnie lass an’ all, but right now you got a face like a slapped arse. Shut the feck up.”
George snorted with amusement and failed to hide it behind his mug of tea.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing about,” Jodie said, rounding on him and poking a finger in his general direction. “It’s not like you’re ever here anymore anyway.”
“Where are you living at the moment?” Marvin added. George scowled at him. Marvin didn’t have the easiest life, but that was his fault for dating a bloody nutcase. There was no need to shove George under a bus to save his own skin.
“I’ve been busy,” George said evasively.
“Got a girlfriend?” Dev asked, tucking his tongue into his cheek. He’d been making himself invisible after Jodie’s tirade and stepped out from against the wall now, folding his arms over his chest.
“Not bloody likely,” Calum muttered as he messed around with bread and the toaster.
“What do you mean?” Dev asked.
“Georgie’s bent as a nine bob note.”
The room fell deathly, uncomfortably silent. George sipped his tea and shrugged.
“Are you?” Dev demanded.
“What?”
“A… a… poofter.”
George huffed a laugh. “If you wanna call it that, yeah.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Don’t worry, you’re safe. I’ve got a boyfriend. And you’re all fuck-ugly,” he added after a moment’s hesitation.
Calum snorted. “I ain’t got a problem with it, mate,” he said easily, taking the butter from the fridge and slathering it all over his toast. “My arse is off limits, though, yeah?”
“Your arse is safe from me,” George agreed generously. He finished his tea, dumped the mug in the sink instead of rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher, mostly to annoy Jodie, then walked out of the room with his head held high.
A few minutes later, when he got into the shower, it was running freezing cold, no matter what he did to the dials or how hard he punched the unit on the wall. That was enough to make the decision for him—he was going to Alex’s tonight.
George pressed his forehead to the scummy tiles and muttered to himself, “I really hate this house.”
Alex woke slowly.
He was aware that it was early morning, earlier than George usually woke up for sure. Alex would possibly have slept later, were it not for the fingertips skimming softly, seductively up and down his side.
This place, curled up in George’s arms, was achingly familiar now. As was George’s erection pressed against his thigh. George wasn’t touching his own cock, though; he was gently, softly, sweetly teasing Alex’s body.
“Morning,” George said, his voice gruff and low.
“Mornin’,” Alex rasped.
One of George’s fingers circled Alex’s nipple, slowly enough to make him squirm. He was sensitive there, George knew that too, and the quiet teasing was enough to make him rock back against George’s cock.
“Do we have time for this?”
“I have about forty-five minutes before I have to leave for work,” George said.
“We definitely have time,” Alex said, making George laugh.
“You sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want.”
“I want.”
Alex stretched his neck around, welcoming George’s kisses on his lips.
It was incredibly hot to be woken up in this way, to have someone want him so bad that first thing in the morning, before the sun was even up, their bodies were joined together so intimately.
They made love like they slept: Alex curled on his side, George spooning him from behind. Like this, George’s fingers were free to explore all over Alex’s chest and down between his legs. George pressed kisses to that spot just under Alex’s ear, licked his earlobe, and bit down on Alex’s shoulder when Alex clenched down on George’s cock.
Their conversation was each other’s name, just those two words, exchanged back and forth. When he felt his orgasm threatening, Alex groped for George’s hand, finding it just in time and bringing it around to press to his chest while his body shuddered and convulsed, sweet pleasure zinging through his body.
After, they were breathing hard for a few moments, still lost in each other.
George groaned first and leaned in to kiss the shell of Alex’s ear, then moved away.
“Hey, George?”
“Hmm?”
Alex was somewhat aware that his brain had yet to catch up with the rest of his body. He was working on pure instinct.
“Why don’t you move in here?”
Next to him, George froze.
“What?”
Well, now he definitely needed to go through with this.
Alex rolled out of bed and reached for George’s hand, pulling him off the bed and through to the bathroom. They both needed to shower, and his shower was big enough for two, so they could do it together. While Alex got turned the water on, George dealt with the condom, then stepped into the still-too-cold water.
“I don’t know how you do that,” Alex said, shaking his head as George shivered under the spray.
“Get in,” George said.
He did, but pressed his body close to George’s, hoping to share body heat until the water warmed up a bit more.
“I’m serious, you know,” he said as George resumed that delicious action of skimming his fingers up and
down Alex’s sides. “I want you to live here with me.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Alex echoed, laughing. “Because I like you, you dickhead.”
“I like you too.” George tilted his head to press his lips to Alex’s throat. “I haven’t ever lived with a partner before, though. I could be horrible to live with.”
“You could be,” Alex agreed. He dodged George’s attempted poke in the side and stepped under the water to wash his hair.
“We haven’t been together that long.”
“Nope. But you spend so much time here anyway. And I know you don’t like where you live now. Case in point—you escaping to here yesterday, turning up on my doorstep with a face like a wounded puppy.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I want you here.”
“Hmm.”
Alex moved out of the way so George could scrub his body down. This was another one of those times when George was going to do his silent thinking thing. It drove Alex mad.
“How about,” Alex said, desperately trying to fill the silence, “you move in here for a few months, and we see how it goes? You can still keep your room at the other place until you’re happy that you’re ready to stay here.”
“I can’t afford to pay rent on two places,” George said immediately.
They switched places again so Alex could rinse his hair through.
“You don’t have to pay me rent,” Alex said. “I own this place.”
“But….”
“It’s fine, George.”
“Okay, we can split the bills, then.”
“My family takes care of that,” Alex said, waving away George’s concern.
“I’m not letting you pay for everything,” George said. He reached around Alex to shut off the water and stepped out of the cubicle, then passed a towel to Alex before taking his own.
“It doesn’t matter, George.”
“It does to me,” George snapped.
Alex raised his eyebrows. “Okay,” he said softly. “We can work something out.”
George nodded and went to the sink; he wiped away the condensation before reaching for his toothbrush. Since he didn’t need to shave this morning, Alex brushed his lips over George’s wet shoulder, then went through to the bedroom to get dressed. His first class was at nine on Monday mornings, which sucked, but having someone else in the flat who also needed to get up and get moving helped. Having George around all the time would be good. Alex was pretty sure of that.
For the next week, he didn’t bring up the subject, not once. He met George for lunch on Wednesday, since he was in the right area and didn’t have any classes. And pointedly didn’t mention George moving in. He didn’t bring it up in any of their very long text message conversations, or any of their good-night phone calls.
When George turned up on Friday night with only his weekend duffle bag, Alex tried not to be too disappointed.
Apparently he wore his emotions all over his face, because George just said, “Not yet,” and brushed his lips over the corner of Alex’s mouth in greeting.
Not yet, Alex thought, and tried not to be annoyed.
George watched the clock from three in the afternoon all the way until five, when he could pack up and leave. The last two hours on a Friday usually dragged, his mood and his energy low. The office was quiet on a Friday afternoon too; most people on his floor finished early or escaped after lunch. The team George worked on wasn’t part of that little conspiracy, they were expected to work all the way ’til five, or suffer the consequences.
As soon as that clock ticked over, George started shutting his computer down, stuffing his things back into his backpack ready to race out of the door.
“Got plans?” Debbie, who sat opposite him, asked with a grin.
“Yeah. I’m staying with Alex this weekend.”
“You stay with Alex more than you do at your own place.”
“True,” he conceded.
“You’re not going to move in with him, then?”
For a moment George froze, and then he shrugged. “Maybe. Not yet.”
“All right. Have a good weekend.”
“You too, Debs.”
The weather was okay when he got outside, murky and grey but not raining, so he shouldered his backpack and prepared to walk across town. Traffic was horrendous at this time of day, and the buses would take ages, so it was often quicker to walk.
The rain started when he was halfway across the Meadows, a light mist that stuck to his hair and eyelashes. By the time he jogged up the path to Alex’s door, he was feeling uncomfortably damp, the fur around the hood of his parka sticking to his neck.
The door swung open before he had chance to knock, and George grinned, stupidly pleased that Alex was waiting for him.
Alex didn’t look pleased, though. He looked pissed off.
“Hey,” George said, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of Alex’s mouth.
Instead of responding, Alex grabbed George’s coat and dragged him inside, slamming the door shut behind them.
“What’s wrong?” George demanded.
“I… need to talk to you,” Alex said tensely.
George reached out and rubbed his thumb over the crease between Alex’s eyebrows. “Okay. Let me take my shoes off.”
He did, stripping out of his outdoor clothes and following Alex back to the kitchen in his jeans and socks. There was a paper on the kitchen table, and other than that, the place was spotlessly tidy. He crossed to the fridge and grabbed a couple of bottles of beer, twisted the tops off, and handed one to Alex.
“What’s up?”
“I had a call today from someone who works for my family,” Alex said. He sat down at the kitchen table, and George took the chair opposite him automatically.
“Okay.”
“This happens from time to time. We’re sort of used to it. But I obviously let my guard down and….”
“What happened?”
Alex sighed. “Some paparazzi sold pictures of us to The Sun.”
“Pictures of… you and me? Together?”
“Yes.”
Images flashed through George’s mind at all the things they’d done in the past few weeks: going to the cinema, coffee dates, walking around the city, going to the pub, Alex watching him play rugby. Then all the things they’d done when he hadn’t thought anyone was watching. The soft kisses. The intense ones. The things they did when George thought they were safe, alone in this flat.
“Is it bad?”
Alex shrugged. “I can’t answer that. If you think it is, then it is.”
“Are they in today’s paper?” George demanded, the panic rising. What if his nan had seen the pictures? His mum. His brother. Or any of the people who didn’t know a damn thing about him and who he dated.
“No, they’re going to run it on Sunday, as an exclusive.”
“Shit,” George said. “Shit!”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” George took a long pull on his beer and fought the urge to smash something. That wasn’t going to help either of them.
“We tried to stop the pictures going out, but it was too late to do anything. The papers don’t always contact us first, but my grandfather sued The Times back in the eighties over something they printed about my mum, so most of them do now. They don’t need to tell us. It’s more of a courtesy thing, or more likely looking for a reaction or a quote so they can print that too. We have a statement prepared ready to go out in response. I tried to get them to stop it, I really did, George, but they wouldn’t even take a pay-off.”
George reached over and grabbed Alex’s hand, squeezing it hard. “I need to tell my family.”
“Okay.”
“I want to do it in person.”
Alex nodded. “Okay.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
He watched as the expression on Alex’s face turned from resignation to shock. “Really?”
�
�Yeah. I can’t stop this, and I can’t hide or deny it without hiding or denying the fact that we’re going out. I think it’s better for them to meet you and know you, rather than finding out in a newspaper.”
“You want to introduce me to your mum?”
“Yeah,” George said. He still felt sick, like the edges of panic were clawing at his chest. But this felt right, like the right reaction to this shitty, shitty situation. He’d take Alex home. That would be good. “I’ll call her. I don’t think she starts work yet.”
Alex practically crawled over the table and deposited himself in George’s lap. That was good too—the familiar, reassuring weight of Alex in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, the warm lips that suddenly crashed into his own.
George kissed him back, wanting and needing that connection too, then broke away to rest their heads together.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Alex asked.
“No,” George said with a laugh. “Not even a little bit. But, you know. It’s now or never.”
Alex nudged their noses together. “Go call your mum. I’ll call mine.”
“Did you tell her yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
George gave him a little push, then went through to the living room and shut the door behind himself. He was sure Alex wouldn’t mind; he understood.
Pictures. Of him and Alex. In a national newspaper. Soon.
Well, that was one way to come out of the closet.
The alarm went off at seven the next morning, nudging them out of bed, into the shower, and on the road before half past. Alex decided to let George drive his car, either as an olive branch or because he couldn’t be bothered to drive it himself, or maybe a little bit of both.
He made George drive through McDonald’s for breakfast muffins and coffee, then turned the radio to the Radio 2 breakfast show, kicked his feet up onto the dash, and insulted George’s driving for most of the trip.
In all honesty, he was shitting himself.
He had been expecting George to flip out when he heard about the pictures and the newspaper, and Alex had been freaking out for most of the afternoon. He’d tried each of the weapons in his arsenal against the newspaper in turn—first bribes, then threats, then begging. Nothing had worked. It wasn’t like the story was going to be front-page news, but apparently the editor was taking the opportunity to tie in an op-ed piece and another timeline of Alex’s dating history with the story, and they weren’t going to pull it without a court order.