Chapter 35 #2
Olly’s the first to speak. ‘Come here often?’
‘It’s where I bring all the boys?’
‘There was me thinking I was special.’
‘Oh, you are.’ I know I sound cheesy. If anyone else could hear me, they’d vomit, but I’m in the moment and I’m happy.
‘Did Soumia really shag McBride?’
I turn to the barman. ‘Three Long Islands, please.’ Back to Olly, ‘Yes, but it was supposed to be a secret. Did you hear anything from the flight crew?’
‘Nothing. Most of them are OK, only a few of them act like Billy Big Bollocks, boasting about who they’ve shagged down route.’
‘You’ve obviously been boasting about me.’ I wonder if a gay engineer can boast in a heterosexual world, have we progressed that much?
‘I didn’t bother boasting at work, I took out an advert in Airliner World instead.’ Olly winks. ‘Soumia needn’t worry, it’ll be old news next week.’
‘She’s got a squeaky-clean image. It’s not even an image; she’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet. I’ll kill the prick for doing this. It’s so uncouth to shag and tell.’
We grab our drinks and make our way back to the gang; the alcohol is loosening everyone up.
Nick is doing a side shuffle to whatever music is in his head. ‘Shall we finish these and go?’
‘Fancy going to The Goose? It’s karaoke.’ Olly Says. ‘I hear Callum’s really good at it.’
‘Not on your life,’ I say back to him.
Olly’s laughing at the terror that shoots across my face at the thought of singing in front of a group of people.
‘Callum sing? There’s more tune in a dead dog,’ Soumia says.
‘Let’s just go to Via,’ I suggest.
Soumia takes a sip of her cocktail and chokes. She clears her throat. ‘Are you fucking kidding me.’
‘What’s wrong, babe?’ I ask her.
I follow her death stare.
Liam.
His voice fills my ears. ‘Twice in one week. What do I owe this pleasure?’
Maybe it’s the Long Island or the fact I’ve got a beautiful man by my side, but his presence doesn’t bother me.
‘It’s not a pleasure, Liam.’ I respond.
‘There’s no need to be like that. I was just going to offer you all a drink.’ He seems genuinely taken aback, a change of tactic for him.
Olly is taller than Liam and has the height to look down at him. ‘Actually pal, we’re just leaving. Have a good night.’
Olly indicates for us to knock our drinks back and we do.
A Long Island isn’t the easiest drink to down.
A little bit escapes from the glass and runs down my chin through the hairs in my beard.
Olly sucks it off. I don’t know if it’s a show for Liam’s sake, but I’m very much hoping he’ll do it again when no one is watching.
Beer jackets on, we’re leaving Liam behind and bracing the cold for the thirty second walk to Via.
We enter as a Madonna tribute act is just finishing off murdering Vogue, though her dance moves make up for her vocals.
You can’t move for gays imitating the routine.
Via’s my bar of choice. It’s filled with men of all shapes and sizes.
Attitudes are left at the door. In Via, there’s no hierarchy of homosexuals, there’s just a dancefloor where everyone is invited.
Olly asks me if I’m ok after Liam’s guest appearance.
I reassure him I am, then he joins Nick who is already dancing like he’s on the Immaculate Collection tour.
Dave and Jason, and Soumia and I, stand separately at the bar in our own queues.
We’re served by a trans woman. Whenever I see a trans person, I want to jump up and hug them and tell them I’ve got their back.
I despise the current anti-trans narrative in the right-wing press.
If we let them get the T, it won't be long until they come after the LGB. I don’t jump up and hug her though.
Instead, I ask for three more Long Islands.
‘Are you sure you want another one? You’ll be shit faced.’ I ask Soumia, my voice raised over the chorus of Papa Don’t Preach.
‘And three Sambucas,’ Soumia shouts to the bartender. ‘I can’t believe that knobhead told everyone. It wasn’t even that good.’
‘Don’t let it bother you. It’ll be Galley FM for two minutes until everyone finds out Trev’s back in the UK. But yes, he’s a total prick.’ The bartender puts down the three Sambucas and Soumia knocks them back one by one. ‘Fucking hell babe, you’ll be sick. I thought we were getting one each.’
We shuffle our way back to the gang. Jason’s managed to get served before us. He, Nick and Dave are drinking pints of lager. I hand Olly a cocktail. My god, I just want to get him home and get him to bed. I want to feel him press down on top of me and…
‘What you thinking?’ Olly shouts at me above the crowd.
‘Nothing, just glad you’re here.’
None of us speak much more for the next five minutes.
The music is too loud and we’re all busy dancing.
Nick’s waving his limbs like an inflatable tube man dancing to a beat that only he can hear.
Dave’s doing a sidestep, one hand holding his pint, another holding on to the back of Nick’s t-shirt like he’s a dog on a leash.
Jason is trying to outdo the backing dancers.
‘I used to be a dancer on a cruise ship,’ Jason announces at the top of his voice.
I wish someone had pushed him overboard, although I’m sure his ego would have helped him float.
Olly’s got rhythm, which doesn’t really surprise me, you can’t be that good in bed and not be able to dance. My theory is shit dancer, shit shag. I wouldn’t say that to Nick though. At least he’s enthusiastic.
‘Just need a wee,’ I shout to Olly.
‘Me too, I’ll come with you,’ he says.
We slide our way through the Madonna fans trying not to nudge anyone holding a drink.
Downstairs, I walk into a toilet cubicle.
Olly follows me in and shuts the door. He engulfs me the second the lock slides through the bolt.
He’s got one arm round me and one arm pulling my hair backwards whilst he bits my neck like a sexy vampire.
‘I’ve got to have you,’ he demands.
His breath is hot against my skin. Our hands explore each other’s bodies. I undo the top few buttons on Olly’s shirt and slide my hand inside to play with his nipples; he lets out a Grrrr.
‘I’m going to fuck you,’ he says.
Olly pulls my jeans down and turns me round.
He’s like a hunter and I’m his prey. He pushes my head forward so I’m leaning over then pulls down my boxers.
I hear him unbuckle his belt and drop his pants.
His hard cock presses up against my arse.
He’s showing me how much he wants this. He pulls away slightly.
I feel his spit wet me and his hips thrust forward.
‘Fuck,’ I catch the word in my mouth.
It stings, but it feels so fucking good. Pleasure, pain. I feel every inch of him inside me. He’s slow at first, giving me time to get used to him, then he’s pounding me whilst one hand covers my mouth.
‘You like that, you dirty fucker?’
I do like it; I muffle a moan to let him know.
He’s going for it, like a sprinter charging towards the finish line. I feel like I’m going to explode. I’m touching myself whilst one of Olly’s hands covers my mouth to silence me, the other is wrapped round my throat.
He spits words into my ears. ‘You want me to breed you?’
I whisper, yes, between my own gasps of pleasure. I feel his cock pulse instantly, gifting his spunk to me. He slumps forward taking deep breaths, his weight on me, all his aggression gone.
He stands tall, takes some toilet roll from the dispenser and wipes himself. ‘That was fucking hot.’
‘You better do that again,’ I say back in hushed tones, only now realising other people can no doubt hear us beyond the cubicle walls.
‘That was just the starter. Wait until I get you back to mine.’ He’s pure filth.
We kiss again, gentler.
‘I really do like you, Mr Moore,’ he says.
‘That’s a god job, seen as though you’ve just shot your load in me. Come on.’
I indicate for us to get back to the others. We pull our pants up, look at each other, giggle, then shimmy away like nothing happened.