Gay, Contemporary, Erotic, Light Kink, 18+
When I woke up the next morning I wondered where I was, until I realized I was in a hotel room.
And there seemed to be someone knocking at the door.
“Housekeeping!” A woman’s voice with a decidedly British accent called from the hallway.
“Just a second,” I said loudly, before climbing out from beneath the covers and padding over to the door. I opened it a crack to speak to the young woman with the cleaning cart. “We’re still in bed. Could you please come back later?”
She nodded. “Of course. My apologies, Sir.”
She rolled her cart away while I took the Do Not Disturb sign and placed it on the handle before closing the door.
Jeremy was sitting up in the huge bed, blinking at me. “What time is it?”
I looked at the clock on the table.
“Eleven thirty. Which would be six thirty back home.”
“Yeah, feels like it.”
“We should get up though. If we go back to sleep we’ll just make our jet lag worse.”
I walked over to the big window and pulled one of the curtains aside.
I would never tire of this view.
Now that the sun was up, I could see even further. So many buildings and landmarks that I recognized even though I couldn’t actually identify them yet.
I turned back to Jeremy but he’d burrowed beneath the blankets again.
I rolled my eyes, returning to the bed and pulling the covers off him. “Jeremy, we’re in London, I’m starving and you can’t go back to sleep.”
I stared at him, appreciating how freaking sexy he looked with his hair mussed, stretched out like that in a king sized bed in a London hotel room.
Hmm. We had no agenda until Monday, when Jeremy had to meet with the legendary photographer for a pre-shoot discussion. I would have to eat something soon but suddenly Jeremy was looking very appetizing.
I grabbed a mint from the coffee bar and popped it in my mouth, then walked over to the bed and crawled upon it, descending on him with entreaties and persuasions until he opened one eye.
“I want to fuck you. You wouldn’t let me last night.”
“What makes you think I’ll let you this morning?”
I rubbed my boxer brief covered erection against his thigh. “Please, Jeremy. I’m so horny. Must be this London air.”
He chuckled. “You’re just as horny when we’re at home.”
“Okay, maybe. Plus it’ll help you to wake up.”
“Only if you make it good.”
Challenge accepted. I gave him a love bite on the back of his neck that made him hiss in surprise before I went back to the coffee bar and got another mint. I passed it to him and he plopped it in his mouth without a word, his eyes meeting mine with a hint of wakened desire.
“I need to piss,” he said.
The large bathroom was beautifully outfitted with a big tub/shower combo, double sinks and a basic toilet. We took turns peeing and then Jeremy walked back to the bed and stood beside it expectantly.
“I was serious about that spanking, Martin.”
Oh crap. I’d forgotten about that. Obviously he hadn’t.
“Oh.” Dammit. “Isn’t there another way you can punish me?” I asked coyly.
He shook his head from side to side very slowly and deliberately.
“But…but there are people in the hall. It’s the middle of the day…”
He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He smiled. “I want you to come over here and lean over the end of the bed, Martin.”
The way he said those words caused my cock to swell, even though getting spanked wasn’t really a turn on for me. Obviously being ordered around by Jeremy kind of was.
I walked to the edge of the bed and started to bend down.
“You need to take your underwear off, Martin.”
I glared at him, removing my boxer briefs and positioning myself awkwardly over the end of the high bed. In all honesty it was the least I could do to make up for what I’d put him through on the flight here.
“How’s that?” I asked, embarrassed and feeling like a child.
“Mmm, that’s perfect. You look hot.”
“I feel ridiculous.”
“Good. That’s part of your punishment. You’re gonna act like a child I’m gonna treat you like a child.”
Jesus Christ. Jeremy had never spoken to me like this before, and I kind of liked it. Usually, it was me ordering him around and spanking his naughty little bottom, always at his bidding of course. Now the tables had turned. We seemed to be discovering all kinds of things about each other on this trip and it had barely begun.
He came and stood close beside me, showing me his tented briefs. “See how hot you look?”
I nodded, gulping. Suddenly his hand was on me, grabbing one butt cheek so hard I gasped.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again, Martin,” he seethed, pushing me into the mattress and letting go before his hand came down hard on my ass.
I cried out because it fucking hurt and I hadn’t expected him to be so rough. Before I could respond his hand came down again, just as hard.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” I burst out, and I was sorry, especially now that I realized how mad he still was. “I’ll never do it again. I promise.”
I heard his heavy breathing as he paused, waiting. I kept talking, wanting to placate him so he wouldn’t spank me again. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you how I felt. I should have asked for your help.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Just be quiet now. I need to spank you some more.”
“It will make me feel better.”
Well, damn. “Fine.”
I gripped the bedspread as his hand came down on my ass four or five more times, and I tried not to make any noise but it hurt like hell. Still, there was something sexy about the humiliation and the pain. And God knows I fucking deserved it.
Finally, he stopped and crawled onto the bed beside me, pushing his boxer briefs down and shoving his erection in my face. “Show me how sorry you are, Martin,” he breathed, and I could see just how aroused he was. If spanking my ass made him this horny maybe it was worth it.
I met his hooded gaze and reached between his legs, cupping his ass and pulling him forward while I took his cock in my mouth.
He hissed in surprise and let his hand fall to my hair, while I worked him as well as I could in this position. His other hand found my ass and rubbed where he’d hit me.
“You okay?” He whispered while his forehead creased with pleasure.
I nodded, since I couldn’t talk with his cock down my throat.
“I feel much better.”
I laughed and choked on him, recovering quickly and snaking a finger in the crack of his ass.
“Oh fuck, Martin,” he said as I touched him there. “Oh yeah…”
I pulled off his cock and stood up, shoving him down on the bed. “I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you, Jeremy.”
“Yes,” he murmured, stretching out and spreading his legs. “There’s lube in my suitcase.”
“Mine too,” I said and we laughed.
I couldn’t remember where I’d packed it and by the time I found it he was leaning on his elbow watching me with barely concealed impatience.
“I know, I know. Sorry.”
“I just don’t want you to spank me again. At least not yet.”
He raised his eyebrows and gave me a smirk as I came back to him. Then he was moaning and gasping as I lubed his ass and entered him without further preamble.
“Oh, Jesus, oh fuck yes,” he said as I pushed inside, right to the hilt. I would get him back for that rough spanking with an equally rough fuck.
“You like that, boy? You like me to fuck you hard?” I said, channeling my inner Dom and knowing that he loved dirty talk.
“Oh God, yeah.”
I held his hips tightly and dragged him so he was in a better position. Then I started to pound him.
“You’re ass is gonna be as sore as mine when I’m done with you,” I stated, panting and giving out little cries of pleasure as I pumped him hard.
“Oh yeah. Oh yeah,” he groaned, egging me on. “Fuck me, Martin. Fuck me hard!”
His words made me even crazier. All of yesterday’s stress and worry and heartache balled into my abdomen and gathered into a massive orgasm that I knew was imminent.
“Don’t move, don’t move,” I ordered as I drove my cock in once, twice and then squealed as my orgasm took over. I kept thrusting and soon Jeremy was yelling and coming, his hand beneath him working his cock as I hit his sweet spot and tumbled him over the edge.
We lay together, panting and listening to the relative silence of the hotel around us. Christ, what if we’d been heard? We hadn’t exactly been quiet.
It could have been my imagination but I thought I heard a gasp and a whispered curse outside the door of the room. Then a giggle and hushed conversation.
I rested my head on Jeremy’s back for a moment, giving myself up to the fact that we may have just outed ourselves as the most indiscreet couple on the seventh floor, and hoping to God we wouldn’t regret it as soon as we left the room.
“I think we might have been overheard.”
“I think we probably were. What are they gonna do, kick us out?”
“Maybe they’ll extend our stay.” Might as well be optimistic.
He laughed. “You need to get off me.”
“Martin, come on. I need to get cleaned up.”
“You certainly do, you dirty, dirty boy,” I said in a fake British accent which made him laugh again.
By the time we’d showered and dressed it was mid-afternoon and we needed some lunch. I was a little scared to leave the room what with our noisy morning assignation but there was no point staying put. We were in London, for Christ’s sake.
Luckily we didn’t run into anyone on our way to the elevator. We shared a look of relief as we rode it down to the lobby.
I had sourced what looked like a good place for lunch on my phone so we stepped out of the hotel doors and onto Berkeley Street. It was a bright, sunny day, and the noise and chaos of central London assaulted us as we looked around, trying to orient ourselves.
I squinted down at my phone. “We need to find Curzon Street, which should be…this way.” I started walking down the sidewalk to the right.
Jeremy followed. I wanted to take his hand to ensure he stayed near me in the busy street but I dismissed this as ridiculous. He wasn’t an eight year-old. And I wasn’t sure how well two grown men holding hands would go over in Soho. Maybe nobody would care. But I didn’t want to start our Holiday getting called names or being spat on.
As we walked and I got used to the traffic going opposite ways, I took in the ancient architecture around me. I wasn’t sure if the tall buildings were Victorian or Edwardian, but they definitely weren’t modern. At least, most of them. It reminded me of the neighbourhood we lived in back in Ottawa, but on a much larger and even more historic scale. This city was so much older than anywhere I’d ever been before.
We found Curzon Street and turned left, crossing at the intersection, finding the rush of traffic and pedestrians lighten up slightly. Here also, historic buildings on either side stretched as far as we could see. The street curved and meandered, until we eventually took a right on Queen Street and located the Tamarind Restaurant. Thank God for Google maps and images.
It was located in the bottom of one of the more boring, boxlike, modern buildings. I say modern meaning anything from the 19th century.
The doors opened to a crowded but expansive room with wood floors, beige walls and gold pillars. The delicious smells of Indian cooking filled our nostrils while we waited for the hostess to seat us. Since there were only two of us it didn’t take long to find a table, and we were ushered to a small one in a cozy corner.
“I’m absolutely starving,” I said as we sat down and picked up the menus.
Jeremy arched an eyebrow and I was hit once again with how beautiful he was. “We had a very busy morning working up a good appetite.”
I blushed and couldn’t help smiling as I remembered our activities. “Yes, it was very…busy.”
Jeremy chuckled and bumped the toe of my boot under the table. I pulled my foot back and cleared my throat, embarrassed and charmed at the same time.
“Let’s just get a bunch of different plates and share them,” he suggested. We went through the menu and picked out some dishes we were familiar with and some we weren’t. When the server took our order he asked if we’d had Indian food before.
“Oh yes,” I replied. “We’re from Canada.”
The server visibly relaxed. “Excellent. Some of the other tourists complain about the spices and the heat.”
I laughed. “Why would they go to an Indian restaurant?”
“Because they hear it’s the thing to do in London, perhaps?” He took our order and disappeared.
I sipped my Kingfisher as Jeremy pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m announcing our engagement,” he said blithely, thumbs working quickly. He glanced up with a smile. “Is that okay?”
I shrugged. He had a lot more social media followers than I did. I was just glad he was so excited about it. “Sure. Okay.”
“I need a photo,” he said and leaned in to take a joint selfie of the two of us. “Perfect.”
He put the phone away and took a sip of his coke. “I still can’t believe we’re here.”
“It’s pretty amazing. How are you feeling, by the way?”
He sat back in his chair and opened his arms with his palms up. “Good. A little tired.”
“Your legs, I mean,” I said gently. “Everything all right so far?”
He stared at me. “Martin, my legs are fine. You don’t get an MS relapse from flying in a plane.”
I blushed. “I know that. But maybe from the stress of your boyfriend acting like an idiot and taking too many sedatives.”
“Uh uh uh. Fiancé. My fiancé acting like an idiot.”
I laughed. “Right. Sorry.”
“I’m fine, Martin. I’ll be fine. I just have to make sure to get enough rest, that’s all. I can rest just as easily here as in Ottawa.”
I raised my eyebrows, skeptical. “Really?”
“Well, almost. Of course, you’ll have to start behaving yourself so I don’t have to keep taking,” he leaned forward, “disciplinary action.”
My cock twitched and started to swell. “Fuck, Jeremy.”
He grinned. “Just saying.”
I cleared my throat and pretended to examine my fork. “Point taken.” Suddenly, the strains of Here Comes the Rain Again became noticeable from my back pocket. It was Frankie’s ringtone. “Shit,” I said. “I’d better take this or she’ll think I’ve died and call the London cops.”
I stood up and fished the phone out of my pocket while making my way through the crowded room and out the front door. I stood beside the entry and covered my other ear, which wasn’t necessary because I could easily hear Frankie screaming on the other end once I said hello.
“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!!!”
“Jesus Christ, Frankie!” I swore. “Calm down!”
“How the FUCK am I supposed to CALM DOWN, MARTIN??? My brother’s getting MARRIED!”
“Oh my God. If I’d know you were friends with Jeremy on Facebook or Instagram or what-fucking-ever I’d have stopped him from saying anything!”
“Have you seen his post, Martin? It’s adorable!”
“No, I haven’t actually. We’re at a restaurant trying to have lunch.”
“So how was the flight?” She asked. I could tell she was trying to calm herself down. “Did the Xanax work?”
I hesitated. “You could say that.”
“And your room is nice?”
“It’s wonderful. For sleeping and, uh, other stuff,” I said, blushing as I remembered our morning antics.
She laughed. “Oh really? Do tell!”
“Nope. Not a word.”
“Spoil sport. Oh, Martin, I’m just so excited for you!”
“I can tell.”
“Except that it means I can’t come to your wedding! Which totally sucks balls!”
“Oh yeah. I guess that does kinda suck. But we want to do it while we’re here.”
“I know, I know, and I’m so happy for you, Martin!”
“I’ll let you go eat but CONGRATULATIONS!!!”
I had to hold the phone away from my ear again.
“Love you, Frankie. Talk soon.”
“Love you, bye! Tell Jeremy congratulations too!”
“I will. Bye.”
I hung up and put the phone back in my pocket. A young woman with spiky blond hair and about ten piercings met my gaze and gave me a thumbs up. “Congrats!”
I blushed but said, “Thanks” and made my way back inside. Jesus, I’d have to talk to Frankie about keeping her voice lower on the phone.
Jeremy didn’t seem to mind that I’d been gone so long. He was tucking into the plates of steaming food that had arrived.
I nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t know you were friends with Frankie on Facebook.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Anyway, she saw your post and got a little excited.”
He laughed. “Yeah, she would.”
“Uh huh. She almost blew my ear off. She wanted me to pass on her very loud congratulations to you. She’s just mad she can’t come.”
“Oh yeah. I didn’t really think about that. Of course she’d want to.” His face fell.
“No, we are not changing our plans because of one person. I want to marry you here, in London.”
His frown turned into a smile. “Well, if you insist.”
“I do fucking insist. How’s the Korma?”
“It’s fucking Heaven, Martin. Try some.”
The food proved delicious and plentiful. After we’d filled our bellies and relaxed over cups of strong coffee we set out for the next part of our adventure.