Chapter Text
Anthony had showered, James too tired and sore for any further exertion, had cleaned himself up quickly in the restroom, finding his briefs where they had been flung, unceremoniously, and had landed underneath a small table. He dozed until Anthony slipped in beside him, smelling clean and faintly minty.
“Oh. You, ah, did you want me to…”
“Took care of it in the shower.” Anthony snuggled in closer.
“But, I, I’m sorry, I-”
“James. I wanted to make you feel good. It doesn’t always need to be mutual. You’re not being selfish for having a bad back and the refractory period of a tortoise.” Anthony kissed the side of his neck.
“Didn’t mean for my back to go out, and- hey! That’s not nice.”
“Go to sleep. There’s always tomorrow.” He pulled James in closer. “I’m not letting you go again. Promise.”
Thank God Anthony had a large bed. When James awoke, he discovered that Anthony had starfished facedown across most of it, an arm hanging off the edge. James was no better, arms stretched wide across both sets of pillows, an extra under his knees. He gently poked Anthony with the side of his foot.
“How’d you sleep?” Anthony asked, face muffled by a pillow. “You enjoy yourself last night?”
The satiating warm feeling had been replaced by shame.
“Yes, I-oh. Anthony. Wake up, please. I have something very important to tell you.”
“Mmm. Yes?” Anthony rolled over so he was facing James.
“I, I must apologize. I’m so sorry for, for disrespecting you last night. The way I behaved, the way I, I, I used you, as though you were an object. Treating you like that. Saying,” he stumbled over his words, “calling you ‘good boy,’ you’re not a boy, you’re a man. I’ve treated you so abominably. I, I have to go. If you never wish to speak with me again, I understand.” His face burned with embarrassment. It was time to leave. Where the bally hell were his trousers?
“James.” Anthony grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “I know you enjoyed that. When was the last time you had sex with someone? I’m not trying to be rude.”
James cleared his throat. “Uh. Well.”
“Lovemaking is always a little bit of playacting, you have to know that. No, no that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy myself! I’m not going to ask you to tie me up and suspend me from the ceiling, God knows we’d both be laid up for a week after from the effort, but I liked that. A lot. The people we are when we’re screwing each other’s brains out,” he looked up, grinning, James nearly purpling in embarrassment, “is just a small facet of ourselves. I don’t feel disrespected by you, ah, using me. I know you didn’t see me as an object, otherwise you wouldn’t have said I was a good boy. Oooh, getting the shakes just thinking of it.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. Bless you, James. You really are sweet. I would like to do that again, and you can always ask first. But if you would like to make it up to me…”
“I could make breakfast.”
“You could and I would like that very much. And then,” Anthony sat up, leaning in, “I’d like to fuck you. Tenderly and lovingly.”
James swallowed hard.
“But first! Go wash up. I think you’ll be impressed, I’ve got actual food in the kitchen now.”
- - - - -
Pancakes, fresh fruit, yogurt, tea. Anthony prepped the rest of the food while James made the pancakes.
“First one’s always rubbish. Tastes fine but not visually appealing,” James said. Anthony reached over, snatching it off the plate.
“Mine now.”
He’d found an old shirt for James, a rather billowy T-shirt reading Solicitors’ Fun Run 2010. Anthony told him more about New York while they ate. The condo was, apparently, quite lovely, with great views, but it was also “drafty and so godawfully lonely.”
“I missed you too. Kitty kept asking about you before I took her aside, said I knew she cared but it was making me sad. I came into the office to find she’d left one of her models she’d painted, just for me.”
“And Julian?”
“He didn’t remember the party. Well, most of it. He remembered his date and her dress. I may have yelled at him about the whole thing.”
“He probably deserved it.”
“Oh, he most certainly did.” James had a sip of his tea. “You know, I quite like making you breakfast. Very cozy. Though maybe next time it won’t be in my underwear and a borrowed shirt.”
“You could do it naked.”
“Anthony! It’s unsanitary and not good for the furniture.”
“Fine. You can have an apron.” He pushed his plate back. “You finished? Go wash up.”
“Do I smell?” James lifted one arm to inspect.
“No. Well. You smell of,” Anthony leaned over, pressing his nose into the side of James’ neck, inhaling, “Sex. Mmmm. Clean up. I intend to wreck you.” James felt his cock twitch even as he blushed.
James hadn’t been in the shower for more than a few minutes when Anthony slid in, kissing his shoulders as they washed up.
“Here?” James’ voice jumped an octave.
“Oh no, of course not. The hot water will run out first and I’d rather avoid a slip and fall. Just conserving water, dear.” He smiled, soaping up James’ back, leaning in to kiss him. “Rather fond of you. Let’s get out before we turn all pruney.”
Toweling off, a lot of kissing and touching as they stumbled back to Anthony’s bed, every inch of Anthony both familiar and new, James running his hands down Anthony’s sides, to his low back, his thighs, his ass, his fingers finding where the muscles tensed as he dug in.
“Do you suppose you’ll ever tire of me?” James said softly as Anthony kissed his cheekbones, his temple, smelling his hair. The shiny newness of Anthony scared him.
“Will you of me?” Anthony tilted his head, moaning as James pressed his hands into Anthony’s low back, brushing his lips along Anthony’s collarbone, his cock hard against James’ thigh.
“Never.”
Toppling back onto the bed, James felt himself relax, Anthony’s gaze one of affection, admiration, each word of praise causing him to untense further. If he couldn’t believe himself, he could believe Anthony, whose eyes were raking over James as though he were a meal presented to a starving man.
“Ready?” Anthony asked. James had an idea of what came next, though it had been a long time. He knew it was what he wanted, Anthony smiling and nudging his legs apart. He reached for a bottle of something on the side table, pouring a generous amount of lubricant into his right hand.
“Careful of the left knee,” James said.
“Skiing injury?”
“Ah. No. Tripped over a cat. Not even my cat.”
Anthony laughed. “Incredible.” He bent in again, gently pressing James’ thighs open with his knee, sliding it up until James gasped. “Comfortable?”
“Physically, yes. Mentally, erm.”
Anthony trailed a line of kisses up James’ inner thigh, reaching for James’ cock and pumping it a few times, James hardening. “Need you to say it,” he said, drawing circles on his knee with his left fingers, a visual promise of what was to come.
James nodded, a stuttered out “yes” confirming what he wanted, Anthony slipping a few slicked fingers lower, finding his entrance, circling at it, teasing with just the tip of his finger, pushing one in, James nearly jumping all the way to the backboard.
“Sorry. Might be cold. It’s ok.” Anthony looped one arm around James’ thigh, holding him in place, sliding the finger back in, slowly, in and out, twisting them as he pulled them out, before pushing back in deeper, James moaning at the intrusion.
“That’s it. Good. Relax, James. Another?”
“Y-yeah.”
Anthony kissed James’ knee, pressing a second finger in. Oh God oh God oh God, what is he doing to me, oh God.
“Does it feel good, darling?”
James groaned out a low affirmative answer, forcefully exhaling and arching his back, grasping the sheets. A third finger, he guessed, from the tight feeling, Anthony working at him slowly, methodically. He looked up. Anthony smiled down at him, biting in his lip, his eyes warm, eager. He withdrew, wiping his hand off on a towel.
“Get on your knees, James,” he ordered. “You’re going to look so good with me in you.”
James nodded, obeying. He wanted this, badly, his dick hard and already leaking. He looked over one shoulder, Anthony slicking up his beautiful cock. He smirked, leaning forward and kissing James’ low back, a whisper of warm breath along his spine.
“You look beautiful like this,” he murmured into James, humming his appreciation. Pressure, Anthony exhaling slowly, fingers digging into James’ side, holding him steady, James nearly vibrating into another dimension in anticipation. “That’s good. You’re doing so good, James.” Pressing in, tight, Christ, feeling a stretch, a burn, Anthony’s cock so much bigger than his fingers, James burying his head in the covers, stifling his groans as Anthony entered him.
“Sit up, James, I want to hear you.” One arm pulled him up, James gasping and moaning as Anthony held up, his chest pressed into James’ back.
“So much. You’re so big,” James said, panting.
“And you’re taking me so well.” Anthony nipped the shell of James’ ear. “Almost all in.”
“Almost?”
Anthony’s hips hitched into him, James gasping at the sensation of Anthony, deep in him, thrusting into him, slowly, the friction, the burning, that need he’d felt before, but lower, that delicious ache radiating down his thighs. Anthony groaned into James’ shoulder, the noise reverberating through James down to his toes. A gentle routine settled, Anthony rolling his hips into James, both of them panting, moaning, Anthony spilling out compliments and praise. James could barely concentrate on anything, his world shrinking to this room, this bed, this man. Anthony reached for James’ cock.
“God, you’re hard,” Anthony said, his voice thready. “Put your hand on yourself, James. I want you to come.”
“Close,” James said, looking back, Anthony kissing him clumsily. “Are you…”
“Yeah. Yeah. You feel so bloody good. I’m going to finish in you.” His thrusts were getting harder and more erratic as he fucked into James, the sound of his thighs slapping adding to the noise, groans and gasps and muttered expletives.
James grasped his cock, his fingers cold, a slight distraction from the feeling of Anthony in him, arms around him, nerves firing up and down his spine, heat building like a volcano. His dick throbbed and ached as he pumped it over and over until that feeling crested and overflowed, pulling him under, James swearing loudly and finishing across the bedsheets, his body going nearly boneless. Anthony was the only thing keeping him upright.
“Good, James, good, nearly, fuck, fuck,” Anthony gasped out, “James, James, James!” His hips thrust up once more, deep, Anthony groaning into James’ back, both of them collapsing onto the bed. Anthony sighed deeply, withdrawing.
“My God,” James breathed. “My…God. I don’t think I can walk.”
“Very that.” Anthony sounded winded. “That was…very fun. Very good. When you regain your senses, we should shower.”
“Again? Your water bill is going to be astronomical.”
“Yes,” Anthony said, nestling his head against James’ shoulder. “And then we can change the sheets.”
“Oh, my favorite!” James sat up. “Yes. Ok. I see why I might need to wash up.”
“Mmm. I’ll order takeaway for lunch.”
- - - - -
James didn’t stay for lunch (“Anthony, I’m exhausted and I need a change of clothes. You’re going to run out of charity event T-shirts.”), promising to text him when he got home, which was quieter. Lonelier. But he needed the rest, his back and knees aching something fierce. What he wanted was to be absolutely demolished by Anthony on a regular basis. What he needed was a hot bath and Acetaminophen. Maybe a knee brace. He was already feeling the limp coming on.
“I’m too old for this,” he said to himself, feeling his age. Maybe ten years older.
I think I pulled something in my calf, Anthony had texted. Worth it. James felt warm all over. The texting continued. I’ll be out of town for the next two weeks. Seattle. Dinner when I get back? I’ll bring you a souvenir.
Be sure to tell me what plane you fly on.
Anthony stopped by the morning of his flight. A surprise, not unwelcome, having, what he termed, a “quick shag,” before kissing him goodbye. James had to find his knee brace after, throwing on his dress shirt and running out of the house so he wouldn’t be late to work. Only as he was walking in did he realize the shirt was too snug and not his, thanking his past self for the emergency sweater vest he kept in his office. He spent the morning burying his nose in the sleeve, inhaling Anthony’s scent.
Still, James fretted. Fortuitously, work had kept him busy, along with Thomas continually pumping him for details. Julian had been making himself conspicuously absent after an article had come out about Gigi. When he was in, he nearly tiptoed about. James almost missed unrepentant Julian.
Anthony sent pictures. Anthony sent loads of pictures, prodding James to send some back, the time difference making simultaneous responses a bit difficult. James got photos of Anthony at various attractions, and photos in various stages of undress.
You like what you see?
Texting meant Anthony didn’t have to see James visibly stammer. Very much. Selecting the correct emoji proved both time consuming and fraught. He settled for a simple smiley face and a heart.
You could send me one too. :)
Cheeky man.
“Kitty, could you take some pictures of me next to some of our planes? It’s…for Anthony.”
Kitty squealed and clapped her hands.
Brace yourself, these are rather spicy. James texted a photo of him standing next to a Fairey Swordfish, one leg up as though striding forward. A second, leaning over to inspect the control panel of a B025 Mitchell. A third looking over the rim of his readers at one of Kitty’s miniatures held up in the light.
Mmm. Very nice. Anything a little more PG-13?
James swallowed. He’d taken more photos at home. Fifty, maybe more, deleting most of them. His phone kept falling over and the timer was fiddly, but he’d managed a few. Leaning over the sink with his sleeves rolled up. One taken from the back, James putting a waistcoat on while looking over one shoulder. A mirror selfie fresh from the shower, towel wrapped around James’ waist. And, for good measure, a BLT he’d made.
Wow. WOW. Especially the sandwich. Can’t wait until you’re under me again.
James kept pulling up the text when he was at work, looking at it and smiling. He was buried in paperwork, outlining possible new exhibits, funding sources to secure, months, if not years of planning for the museum. He’d have to see if Julian had torched every bridge with his behavior at the party or the opening of the exhibit, or any of the malicious tomfoolery that he got up to on his own time. Last time they met, he’d made some offhanded comment that made James sure that his newest funding source was not entirely legal, and he’d brought it up again in their next one-on-one.
“No, Julian. This is not a tax haven for you or your friends. You’d get the museum shut down, and, and, and-”
“And you’d what, quit? Already tried that. My money’s just as good as anyone’s.”
James leaned forward, putting both hands on Julian’s desk. “This museum means more than almost anything and I’ve devoted my life to it. It has brought me great joy, and a man that I love very, very much. I would do anything to protect it. Hear what I am saying. If you try this, I will cut your brake lines.”
Julian’s eyes bugged out.
“Did I…come at a bad time?”
Anthony was in the door frame.
“I thought you two were…” Julian pointed at Anthony, then at James.
“Don’t launder money while I’m gone. Or while I’m here.” James shook his finger at Julian before leaving.
“Got back yesterday,” Anthony said, slipping one arm through James’. “I would have called but I slept for twelve hours. Sorry.” They’d walked to a small café nearby.
“Er…how much of that did you overhear?”
“Enough.” Anthony smiled. James blushed, his stomach in knots. “Here, got you something.” He reached into his bag.
“For me?” James was already unwrapping the present, a small box with a ribbon around it. Inside were antique junior pilot first flight wings, the kind children used to get from the airlines. From the 1950s, he thought, and in the condition it was in, near-pristine, not cheap.
“Oh, Anthony. I never got a pair when I was young.”
“Did you mean what you said?” Anthony said quietly.
“About cutting Julian’s brake lines? That’s probably a crime, isn’t it? Does it help that I don’t actually know how to do that? Or the bit about the…” He swallowed, looking down. “Sorry. I, I, I, it’s just very difficult to say.” He took Anthony’s hand, studying it, turning it over. A good hand. Strong, large, elegant.
“I love planes. And you are like a plane.”
“Please continue,” Anthony said. “I’d like to see where this is going.”
“Erm. Good wingspan. Sturdy. Graceful in motion. A modern engineering marvel. Just like a 747. And, and, and, I love her. And I love you. There.” He smiled brightly.
“I love you too.” Anthony bent in, bumping noses with James. “Spent a lot of time thinking about it on the flight over. I can tell you meant it by how hard that was for you. Let’s go back to my place. I’ve got something else I want to give you. And I’ve got an extra Ace bandage for after.”
James felt as though he would melt, evaporate, and reconstitute on the spot. He kissed Anthony on the cheek. Lovely man. Lovely, lovely man.
“Say, Anthony. Maybe after…d’you want to go plane spotting tonight?”