But I couldn’t have had his cock and his mouth at the same time, despite what porn videos might maintain, so I clung onto the sheets and made myself relax enough that I wasn’t ramming my cock down Matthew’s throat repeatedly.
I was glad the music was loud downstairs, because I couldn’t have stopped myself from yelling when I came, not with what Matthew was doing to me.
“Fuck,” I groaned, and he crawled up the bed when I held my arm out for him. He pulled the condom off and dumped it and the glove onto the mess beside the bed. The air was thick with the smell of sex and come, and I buried my nose into his hair and took a deep breath in, inhaling his shampoo and skin smell, before lolling my head back onto the pillow.
“Whoever you gave your condoms to, I hope they have sex as good as we did,” I said, and Matthew propped himself up on his elbow and grinned.
“Nevins and Lin. And I doubt it. I suspect Nevins at least is a virgin. He’s certainly stupid enough to have unprotected sex.”
My hand slid down Matthew’s body to touch his cock.
“What’s the piercing called?” I asked. “I’ve seen a Prince Albert on a patient, and it didn’t look like this.”
“It’s an apadravya; it’s mentioned in the Kama Sutra, that’s how old the piercing is,” Matthew said. “And yes, it hurt like fuck getting it done, and I wouldn’t part with it now.”
Now Matthew’s cock was soft, the bar slid backward and forward through the flesh smoothly, but I heard the catch in his breath. “Is that good?” I asked.
“Yeah, feels good to have it touched.”
Matthew gave a hiss of pleasure when I twisted the bar gently, and I could feel him hardening in my hand. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want to take this to my place, with some food?” I asked.
“No food here, no beer, no condoms. We need to move to your place.”
Chapter Nine
When I had takeaway, it was a chip butty from the local chippie, but the stuff that Andrew carried back to the car smelled amazing.
He handed the bags over to me and started the car.
“Galangal chicken,” he said. “With fresh pineapple. Squid in black pepper sauce. Lemon and coconut sauce in that container. Prawn wontons. Cardamom rice.”
“What sort of food is this?” I asked, opening the container and taking a piece of chicken out.
“It claims to be Thai, but in fact it’s whatever the chef wants to cook.”
The chicken was amazingly good, sweet and tangy and delicious, and I took another piece. “Fucking brilliant,” I said, fishing out a piece of pineapple and eating it.
Andrew looked sideways at me and chuckled. “One day, you, too, will be earning enough money to eat this stuff.”
“Oh, God,” I said, finding some more chicken. “I can’t wait.
Just a resident’s pay looks pretty bloody good right now. I’m tired of living on a student loan.”
“Go ahead and eat it all,” Andrew said, smiling at me while we were stopped at a traffic light.
“I will.” I fed him a piece of pineapple and put my feet up on the dash of the car. “How come you drive such a crappy car? I thought all doctors had flash cars, that it was some kind of prerequisite for the job.”
“A couple of reasons. On a purely financial basis, a car is a depreciating asset, unlike property, for instance. It’s bad income management to spend a stack of money on a car, according to my accountant. ‘Drive the cheapest car your ego will let you,’ she told me. And I take a perverse pleasure in refusing to play along with other people’s expectations of how I should behave.”
“I like it,” I said. “Partly because I can put my feet on the dash without worrying. Partly because I just spilt galangal sauce over the seat, and you might be pissed at me if you had a decent car.”
Andrew chuckled. “I’m going to make you lick that up,” he said.
He didn’t, and I’d eaten all of the chicken by the time he opened the security gates at a fancy set of terraces with a remote control and parked the car.
The gates swung shut behind us, and he led me down the row of houses to his.
The light above the porch worked, indicating the security here was decent, and Andrew unlocked the door and disarmed the security system while I nodded approvingly at his house.
It wasn’t tidy or anything, but the couch looked comfortable underneath its covering of books and newspapers, and it didn’t smell of engineers, unlike my place.
I picked up a framed photo of a kid from a bookshelf and Andrew peered over my shoulder at it. I could feel him radiating affection.
“That’s Henry, my son,” he said. “He’s the reason I’m here.”
“How come?” I asked, studying the photo. The kid was kind of chubby and looked nothing like Andrew.
Andrew took the photo out of my hands and put it back on the shelf. “His mom got offered work here, and rather than make him choose who he wanted to live with, I followed them over from the States. I can work anywhere as a doctor, but she’s a classical violinist, and they don’t have a lot of career options.”
It struck me then what a generous man Andrew was.
“Food?” Andrew said, hefting the bags of takeaway, and I followed him into the kitchen. He found plates and forks while I opened the fridge, curious as to what I’d find.
Not food, at least not food that didn’t come in jars. There was beer, and bottles of wine. Jars of olives, packs of cheese, dried fruit. Not particularly healthy, but not disgusting either.
The freezer had a bottle of vodka in it, and nothing else, so I closed it and took out two beers. Andrew held out a plate piled with food to me. “We’ll need to sit on the couch, I’ve never bothered getting a dining table of any sort.”
He cleared the couch by pushing everything off it onto the floor, and we sat down. Andrew must have been starving because he cleared his plate. I wasn’t quite so hungry, having already eaten all that chicken in the car, but it was still excellent. A few hours earlier I’d been standing at the bar, considering the relative importance of food versus beer. Now, here I was, free beer and food.
Oh, yeah, and the sex.
I put the plate down on the coffee table and leaned across and kissed Andrew.
We wound up with me straddling him, his hands sliding up and down my back, mouths joined, moaning simultaneously. I hadn’t been with a man like Andrew for a long time. Between studying and… well… studying, I’d been taking what I could get in the way of sex. A quick hand job here, a bit of head there; I’d not really got into being with someone for a long time.
And, God, I was into this.
Andrew’s hands had found my nipple bars again, making me squirm and shudder. “Bedroom? That’s where the latex is.”
His bedroom was messy, but without the level of microbiological dismay that mine had. There was no underlying odour of mildew, fewer textbooks, and there was the world’s shiniest sound system on a bookshelf. Andrew might not drive a fancy, or even clean, car but the man was a sound equipment whore.
He turned the bedside light on and the main light off, and pressed buttons on the stereo. It wasn’t commercial pop that came out of the speakers hanging from the ceiling but slow rolling drums, a soft percussive track that I could see the erotic potential of.
His bed was large and comfortable and I sprawled across it and took the condom he offered me. He let me roll it on my cock, presumably because it took some finesse to get it safely over the beads, then began to suck me again.