Chapter Nine #2
He poured lube into his palm, wrapped his hand around his cock, and stroked himself to full hardness. He moved his hand slowly, deliberately down his length, letting Barnaby watch every movement.
Barnaby was staring. His chest rising and falling too fast, and his hands were fisted in the sheets. “Touch yourself,” Lex said.
Barnaby didn’t move.
“Barns. Play with yourself. Let me see what you like.”
“I don’t—” Barnaby’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I don’t do that.”
Lex paused mid-stroke. “You don’t wank?”
Barnaby’s eyes shifted. “I have self-control. And I certainly wouldn’t make a habit of doing it around people.”
The evasion was obvious. Barnaby clearly wanted to imply he was above it all, too refined for something so base, but couldn’t quite commit to the lie.
“I’m not people. I’m about to be balls-deep in you. Touch your cock, Barnaby.”
“Don’t be so crass.” Barnaby’s jaw tightened, and he stayed exactly where he was, hands fisted in the sheets, staring at the ceiling.
Lex bit back a grin. This was not the moment to trigger indignation from Barnaby, who was so easy to goad into a reaction.
But he should have expected this inhibition.
Barnaby had probably only ever had it on with other toffs, with their weird shared traditions.
Maybe they fucked through holes in sheets, or needed to don bleached white calf leather gloves before taking someone’s knob in hand. Fair enough. He’d train him out of it.
He rolled the condom on, slicked himself up properly, and then poured more lube onto his fingers. He pressed one finger against Barnaby’s rim, slow and careful, and Barnaby went rigid.
“Relax,” Lex said. “I need you to relax, yeah?”
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re not. You’re tight as a drum. Breathe, Barns.” Lex grinned down at him. “Lie back and think of England and your duty to the King.”
Barnaby let out a startled laugh, his whole body shaking with it. “You twat. You can’t bring James up when I’m naked under you.”
“Why not? Am I hitting a sore spot?” Lex’s grin widened. “Does the King have carnal knowledge of the Marquess of Ashworth?”
Barnaby’s face went blazing red, the flush spreading down his neck to his chest.
Right. That was something Lex would have to unpack later. But for now, he took advantage of the distraction and pressed his finger in deeper, massaging slowly. Barnaby’s breath caught. His thighs fell open wider, and the tension in his body started to melt.
“There you go,” Lex said. “Good lad.” He added a second finger. Barnaby’s breathing went ragged. His knees came up, and Lex had to press them back down with his free hand.
“Keep your legs open, love. I need to be between them to get at you. Unless you’ve got some secret toff technique I don’t know about where I’m supposed to work around them?”
Barnaby’s thighs trembled, but he held them open. Lex worked him carefully, scissoring his fingers, stretching him, and when he added a third Barnaby made a sound that was half gasp, half protest.
He used his free hand to stroke Barnaby’s hip, gentle and soothing.
Barnaby’s face had turned into the pillow, and Lex watched the real struggle there, real nerves.
More than he’d expected. This wasn’t just posh-boy inhibition.
Barnaby’s knuckles were white on the sheets, his breathing shallow and uneven.
Lex slowed right down, working him with a patience he’d never bothered with before.
He pulled his fingers out, positioned himself between Barnaby’s thighs, and lined himself up.
He couldn’t take any more of this without running the very real risk of coming at the sight of Barnaby spread out before him.
The head of his cock pressed against Barnaby’s rim, and Lex felt the resistance immediately.
He was still much too tight in spite of all the preparation.
He poured more lube over himself, slicking the condom, and tried again.
“Never had anyone this big before, huh?” Lex asked, keeping his voice low and steady.
Barnaby shook his head. His hands were white-knuckled on the sheets.
Lex pushed in slowly, watching the head of his cock breach Barnaby’s rim.
Barnaby’s body resisted, then gave, the ring of muscle stretching tight around him.
Barnaby went rigid beneath him, breath hitching sharp and shallow, eyes squeezed shut.
His hand pushed weakly against Lex’s hip, keeping him still.
“Look at me,” Lex said. “Barnaby. Look at me.”
Barnaby’s eyes opened. They were wide and grey and overwhelmed.
“You’re all right,” Lex said. “You’re all good with me.”
He pushed in another inch. Barnaby made a strangled sound and twisted sideways, pulling away so that Lex’s cock almost completely withdrew.
“It’s too much,” Barnaby said. His voice was tight, strained. “Lex, it’s—”
“I know. I know. We’ll stop. Just breathe for a second.”
Lex stayed exactly where he was, barely inside, giving Barnaby time to adjust. His own cock was screaming at him, every nerve ending demanding he just push, but he gritted his teeth and waited.
“All right,” Barnaby said after a moment. “All right. Try again.”
Lex pushed in another inch. Then another. Barnaby’s breathing was too fast, too shallow, and his whole body was locked up tight. Lex stopped again, kissed him, murmured reassurances that he wasn’t entirely sure Barnaby was hearing.
Doubt went through him, sharp and unfamiliar.
Barnaby was the smallest framed bloke he’d ever been with.
Lex had been with women he’d dwarfed in size, but that wasn’t a fair comparison; they had entirely different equipment, and the sex involved different mechanics.
Barnaby was narrow, and tight and clearly already struggling this early on.
Lex wasn’t sure if patience and an entire bottle of lube was going to be enough.
It took an age. Bit by bit, inch by inch, stopping every time Barnaby’s breath caught or his body tensed, until finally, finally, Lex was fully seated. Barnaby’s thighs were shaking. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy, and he looked terrified.
“You’re all right,” Lex said, and kissed him again. “You’re all right, Barns.”
Barnaby’s breathing started to even out.
Lex gave him another minute, then started to move in slow, shallow thrusts, just enough to ease the friction.
Barnaby’s hips shifted beneath him, but in the wrong direction.
Lex tried to adjust, angling his hips to hit that spot he’d found with his fingers, but Barnaby was moving all wrong.
His timing was off, his rhythm non-existent, and when Lex tried to guide him with a hand on his hip Barnaby just went still.
Completely still. Lying there like a plank of wood while Lex moved above him.
“Barns,” Lex said. “Come on, mate. Move with me.”
Barnaby didn’t move.
Lex pulled out, flipped him over, and pulled his hips up into position. Doggy would be easier. Less awkward. He could do the work, let Barnaby just hold himself up.
He lined himself up again, pressed the head of his cock against Barnaby’s rim, and started to push in.
It was just as tight as before, and offered just as much resistance.
Barnaby’s back arched, his breath catching, and for a second Lex thought they’d found the right angle to keep both of them happy.
Then Barnaby pulled forward, hips shifting away, and Lex slipped out entirely.
“All right, yeah? Let’s give this a go.” Lex muttered. He grabbed Barnaby’s hips, positioned him again, and pushed back in. “When I push in, you push back. Yeah? Work with me.”
Barnaby nodded. Lex thrust forward. Barnaby pulled away.
Lex stopped. He looked down at Barnaby’s pale, narrow back, at the sharp jut of his shoulder blades, and the truth landed flat and undeniable. This was a disaster. Barnaby was gorgeous, funny, clever, brilliant company. And a fucking terrible shag.
He tried once more. Slowed right down, rolled his hips instead of driving them, and pressed his palm flat against the small of Barnaby’s back the way he had in the gym that first time.
Barnaby’s breathing changed. It became a fraction slower, a fraction deeper and for about three seconds Lex thought he was getting somewhere.
Then Barnaby’s spine locked again, and the rhythm died before it had properly started.
Lex gritted his teeth and kept going. He picked up the pace, chasing his own release now because there was no point pretending this was working for either of them.
Barnaby was silent beneath him, his body tense, and when Lex finally came it was more relief than pleasure.
He pulled out, stripped off the condom, and dropped it into the bin by the bed.
Barnaby was still on his hands and knees, breathing hard. Lex reached around, wrapped his hand around Barnaby’s cock, and stroked him off with quick, efficient movements. Barnaby came with a choked sound, spilling over Lex’s hand, and then collapsed forward onto the mattress.
“You all right?” Lex asked.
“Yes,” Barnaby said. His voice was muffled by the pillow. “Fine. That was—fine. Thank you.”
Lex opened his mouth, then said, like an absolute pillock, “Thank you, too.”
They both went silent. The awkwardness hung between them like a bad smell.
Lex kissed him before either of them could make it worse.
Barnaby kissed him back, and there was heat in it still, real heat.
When Lex pulled him closer he could smell it: Barnaby’s sweat layered over his own, the expensive soap Barnaby used mixing with Lex’s cologne and the musk of what they’d just done.
It shouldn’t have worked. But it did, and Lex fucking loved it.
He just hated the actual fucking itself.
Lex grabbed a towel from the floor and cleaned them both up. Then he pulled Barnaby into his arms. Barnaby went willingly, curling into Lex’s chest, and within minutes his breathing had evened out into sleep.
Lex lay there, staring at the ceiling. Barnaby was warm against him, soft and boneless in a way he never was when he was awake, and Lex felt something close in his chest like a door shutting.
Sex had always been a big part of his relationships.
A good part. The part that made everything else click into place.
And he and Barnaby had utterly failed in finding a rhythm.
Which meant that whatever this was with Barnaby had a ceiling.
A limit. And Lex didn’t feel good about that, because he really liked Barns, to the point where he was pretty sure there was no ceiling to his liking.
His mobile was on the bedside table. He reached for it, careful not to wake Barnaby. Then he grabbed his Team GB jacket from where it had been tossed over the chair and draped it across Barnaby’s shoulders. The MURPHY surname sat visible across his pale back. Barnaby didn’t stir.
Lex snapped a photo. Barnaby was sprawled across Lex’s chest, the jacket covering him like a blanket. It was a good photo. Suggestive without being explicit. Barnaby looked gorgeous, with his gold lashes lying in a dark smudge against his cheeks. It was the kind of detail the lads would howl at.
He opened the Tokyo Tumble Tally group chat and sent the photo.
Lex: god tier: bagged. 100 points. cheers lads
He locked his mobile. The group chat was still quiet. No one had seen it yet. There were no reactions or flurry of messages.
He opened the photo and zoomed in. He looked at those gold lashes dark against Barnaby’s cheeks, and the unguardedness of his face in sleep.
Lex could already see it, the messages from the lads: Pretty princess.
Look at Sleeping Beauty. Did you tuck him in after?
The lads would tear into it, and him, and they’d be laughing, but it wouldn’t be funny.
He couldn’t let them laugh about this. Not about Barnaby.
He held his thumb over the photo, and deleted it.
The message went with it. The photo vanished from the thread, and Lex stared at the empty space where it had been for a long moment. Then he locked his mobile, set it face-down on the table, and closed his eyes.