Chapter 14 Damian
DAMIAN
Over the past week, I think I’ve had a dick in my mouth more often than not.
How did I ever think I was straight? Kit’s cock down my throat is all I can think about, in lectures, at the gym, even having lunch with Jasper, my mind has been filled with nothing but the way Kit’s back arches as I kiss that sensitive spot beneath his glans, or how he moans my name when he finally loses control and fucks my face.
And when Kit falls to his knees and shows me exactly how it’s done…
wow. Let’s just say he’s taken me to the gates of heaven, and I’m never turning back.
I can’t think of a time when my life has been better.
Leah and Dad are oblivious because, let’s face it, Kit and I were close to begin with.
They haven’t batted an eyelid, even when Kit is spending more time in my bed than in his own.
Yes, everything is perfect. Well, almost perfect… if it weren’t for that one thing bugging me, poking at the back of my brain and forcing me to act.
So, when my last lecture wraps up, I pull out my phone and text the man who’s been on my mind all day.
Me: Do you have any plans for Saturday?
Kit doesn’t leave me hanging. No sooner have I pressed send than the little speech bubble pops up, telling me he’s typing his reply. I must have caught him in his break between sports science and a rehearsal.
Kit: Nothing yet. Why, what do you have in mind? Remember the parentals are away this weekend ;)
Shit, I’d forgotten. Dad’s taking Leah to the Cotswolds for some anniversary or another.
They celebrate everything, so I sort of lose track.
They’ll either be marking the day they met, their first date, their engagement, or their actual wedding.
Dad says Leah’s sentimental and doesn’t like to see an important day pass without fanfare.
Kit says she wants more presents. But who cares when it gives Kit and me two whole days without them in the house?
This weekend just got even better. I can kiss Kit anywhere I want.
And I mean anywhere in the house, get your mind out of the gutter.
Although yeah. Down there, too.
Me: Of course I didn’t forget they’re away.
Liar.
Me: Keep Saturday completely free. We’re going on a date.
I don’t know where we’re going, but that’s something future me can worry about.
It’s been bothering me for a few days now.
Kit and I have spent all our free time together for as long as I can remember.
Which, on one hand, means for every waking moment I’m not thinking about Kit, I’m actually with him.
On the other, it means that while my dick has made a home in his throat, I haven’t actually taken him out on a date yet.
And that makes me no better than Will, or Bill, or whatever the fuck his name was.
Kit: Okay, consider me intrigued. Are you going to wine and dine me, Mr Hansel?
You bet I fucking am. I smile at my phone.
Kit doesn’t know what’s about to hit him.
I mean, I don’t either, since I’ve yet to actually plan the date.
But I have faith in myself, I know it’ll be good.
Just adding sex into our existing relationship isn’t going to cut it for me.
Kit is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to have my fairytale ending, and I’m not giving that up.
I want to show him that I’m all in, that I’ll do anything to keep him and make him happy.
Of course, I don’t put all that in a text… This will only be our first date after all, and even with our blurred boundaries, I know that would come off a bit too strong. So, I settle for a more subdued:
Me: Be ready at 10. Wear something smart that you can spend all day in.
Then, not wanting to invite any questions about a date I haven't actually planned yet, I subtly change the subject.
Me: So, Zombies tonight?
See, what did I tell you? Subtle as fuck.
Kit: I’ll pick up the snacks. First one to die owes the other a blowjob.
Me: Oh, you’re so on, little brother. Prepare to go down… Literally.
“Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me?” Kit shrieks as I march us towards the arched, glass entrance of the Royal Ballet and Opera House.
“Would I joke about this?” I laugh, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the doors and towards the cloakroom where I was told to meet our guide. “We’re doing an access all areas, behind the scenes tour, followed by an afternoon tea at The Lancaster.”
“Did you pull strings with your new bestie to get us a table there at short notice?”
“Yep. And you better appreciate it because Stalk is terrifying as fuck.” I shudder involuntarily at the memory. I swear, I heard the man roll his eyes over the phone, and I nearly pissed myself.
Still, it’s worth it to see how inordinately pleased Kit looks with himself. “Oh, believe me, I do appreciate it. I don’t care how you wheedled us in, this is amazing.”
He’s practically vibrating beside me as we wait for our guide, craning his neck any time a door opens or a staff member passes by.
I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. I was almost sure Kit would get a kick out of a behind-the-scenes sneak peek at the rehearsal spaces and dressing rooms here, especially as the theatre prepares for a run of the Nutcracker.
But ballet has always been his least favourite form.
It’s good for core technique, or so Kit says, but he prefers the freedom of contemporary.
Kit walks through the theatre like a kid in a sweet shop, but it’s not until we step onto the never-ending stage that I really understand what this experience means to him.
He treads the boards with tears in his eyes, barely daring to blink in case he misses something.
And I stand transfixed with him, staring at the thousands of rich, burgundy seats before us, all framed by soft, yellow lighting and golden accents.
The regal space is filled with reverence and class, more breathtaking than even the Lancaster can manage.
I know next to nothing about ballet or opera, only what Kit’s shared, but even I can feel the history of the place pressing down upon me.
“It’s better than I ever imagined,” he whispers, reaching for my hand. “Damian, this is incredible. Thank you.”
I always knew I’d do anything for Kit, but this pure, unadulterated moment drives it home.
Kit and I, we’re not just about sex. I’d give him everything I have, my heart, my soul, my body, every penny to my family’s name, and I’d do it with a smile on my face.
Why? Because Kit would never ask that of me.
Because I know that Kit would do the same for me, too.
“Can you feel it?” he asks, squeezing my hand. “It’s like the soul of every artist has left its mark on the stage.”
“Yeah, it’s breathtaking,” I say, unable to tear my eyes away from him.
We end the tour in silence, almost too scared to break the beautiful reverie we’ve experienced together.
Our subdued peace lasts all the way through our afternoon tea at The Lancaster.
I’d almost say the quiet moment is overdue.
It’s nice to simply exist in each other’s presence as we adjust to our new relationship.
Yes, Kit knew he liked men a lot sooner than I did, but still, the prospect of a real boyfriend is as novel for him as it is to me.
It isn’t until our taxi pulls up outside the vintage cinema I’d found that Kit’s excitement sparks again.
I’d almost binned the idea when I remembered that Will-the-Worm took Kit to a movie not so long ago, but my picture house blows his out of the water.
Firstly, it’s designed to look like something out of the nineteen-twenties, with dimly lit tables for two, and smartly dressed wait staff ready to bring you whatever cocktail you fancy while you enjoy your movie.
Second, the cinema just happens to be showing An American in Paris, pre-recorded on the West End.
Kit laughs and cries the whole way through, regaling me with facts about this movement or that choreographer whenever a dance number starts.
And, admittedly, in this musical, that happens a lot.
I don’t have a clue what Kit’s on about, but I love it all the same.
I want to always be the person he shares his passion with.
When the last note is sung, and the curtain comes down, we decide to stay in the cinema to take advantage of their extensive drinks menu. Kit orders a Long Island again, and I settle for a very masculine strawberry cloud.
“Well, that looks… creamy.”
I push my tongue into my cheek at his unintended innuendo. “I happen to like cream.”
“Stop,” he laughs, playfully poking the outline of my tongue. “This is a sophisticated place.”
“It is indeed. Not bad for a first date, huh?” I fish artlessly.
“No. Definitely not bad for a first date.”
“Even if you have cried more today than in the entire time I’ve known you.”
“Oh, shut up,” Kit says, a pink tinge colouring his cheeks. “That was your plan all along, wasn’t it? To make me have feelings in public.”
“Of course not. I just wanted to give you the best date you’ve ever had. The tears of joy were just an added bonus.” I wink, just to see if I can make Kit blush even more. I’m not disappointed.
“So, is that what we’re doing?” Kit asks hesitantly, biting his plump lip. “We’re dating?”
“Well, I certainly hope so, given the amount of cum we’ve exchanged this past week.”
Damn, way to lower the tone, Damian. Lucky for me, Kit chooses to ignore my crude remark. “I’ve had an amazing time today. It’s been perfect. I’d say no one has ever done something like this for me before, but that’s not true.”
“It’s not?” My stomach drops like a lead balloon.
“No, of course not,” he smiles softly. “Because I’ve always had you. No one else would go through so much effort for me, but you always have, ever since that first afternoon in your garden when you brought out five different flavours of crisps because you didn’t know which I’d prefer.
“You never gave up on me, even when we had nothing in common,” he continues, reaching out to take my hand and squeeze it tight.
“You’re the reason I’ve smiled every day for the past four years.
How could I expect anything less than what you’ve given me today, even when all I really need is you and a bunch of shitty games. ”
I look at him like he hung the moon in the sky. “You’re everything to me too, Kit,” I say, wiping the moisture from my bottom lashes in a move I’ve hopefully disguised as a signal to the barman that we’re ready for the bill. I don’t usually wave at wait staff because I’m not a dick, but needs must.
“So, my room or yours tonight?” Kit asks innocently, rolling his straw around on his tongue like the temptress he is.
The question is rhetorical, since we both know I’ll say mine.
Apparently, if my bedding is continuously running through the washing machine, covered in god knows what, then that’s fine.
Anyone who notices will only assume I’ve found a new porn site or something.
But if both of us suddenly up the wash cycles, then someone might start asking questions.
Or so Kit says. I think he just wants to keep his little boudoir as pristine as possible, and it’s not like I mind the way my room has started to smell like Kit, even when he’s not around.
Is that weird?
Never mind, the whole topic’s moot tonight anyway.
“Neither. I’ll be dropping you off at your door and kissing you goodnight like a gentleman.”
“Oh, and which door will that be?”
“Your bedroom door.”
Kit chuckles. “If you’ve made it all the way to my bedroom, you might as well come in, surely?”
“Nope,” I pop. “Not tonight.”
Kit bites his lip shyly. “Even if we were to say… try something new?”
My heart stops. Fuck, this is going to be a hard offer to turn down. “By new, do you mean…”
“Sex,” Kit nods. “I was thinking I’m ready. That is, if you are. I know this is as new to you as it is to me, but I want to take that step, and I want it to be with you.”
Blood rushes to my cock so fast there’s barely enough to keep my brain going. Still, I stand strong.
“I think we should wait a little longer.” My dick sobs at my refusal. “It’s not that I don’t want to, believe me, I do. But I want to always remember today as our first date. I want the first time I make love to you to be a precious memory all of its own.”
Besides, now that I know this is on the cards, I want to do as much research as possible. I’d never forgive myself if I did something to hurt him. In fact, waiting that little bit longer also gives me time to visit the local clinic to be sure we’re safe.
Kit’s smile is a blinding light in the dimly lit auditorium. “You’re such a romantic,” he laughs.
“Did you expect anything less?”
“No,” he sighs, leaning his head on my shoulder. “I don’t suppose I did.”
Kit stays like that as I settle the bill with the waiter, righting himself only for the short walk out of the picture house and into the taxi I’d ordered. Then, as soon as I buckle myself in, he’s back, his welcome weight pressing down on me as we drive through the streets of London.
When we arrive home, I keep my word. I walk him to his bedroom door and no further. Instead, I simply lean in to end the night with the softest brush of my lips across his cheek.
“Goodnight, my Kit,” I whisper, slowly stepping away from him.
“Goodnight,” he whispers back, holding onto my hand until the very last second.
My body hates me, sure, but still I fall asleep with the goofiest smile pressed into my pillow. Because that? That was the best date ever.