WB Chapter One

Gay, Contemporary, Erotic, Light Kink, 18+

“What? I can’t just take off for two weeks,” I said, trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

“Why not? It’s not like you have a regular nine-to-five job. What do you have booked for the next little while?”

He was practically bursting with excitement and optimism and I couldn’t blame him. This was a BIG DEAL.

“Well, I — “

He stood up and approached me, grabbing my shoulders and staring into my eyes with an intense energy. “Come to London with me. Please.”

My head filled with excuses as to why I couldn’t or shouldn’t, but my mouth said, “Okay.”

He let out a whoosh of air that smelled like cinnamon. Perks of working at Starbucks. “Really?”

I nodded. “Sure, why not? I can just take out a second mortgage on this place.”

His face fell and I felt like I’d kicked my pet dog.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I took his chin and kissed him softly. “It’s going to be expensive that’s all. But I’m just about to pitch a spread to Outside Magazine. If I can convince them a story about the New Forest would be timely, this just might work.”

“Oh shit, I forgot you had that meeting. What time?” His smile was back.

“An hour. Can you help me get some information together?”

“Of course.”

“And tell me what to wear?”



Jeremy and I spent thirty minutes printing pages of information on The New Forest in England — weather patterns, indigenous animals and fauna, acreage, human encroachment. It would be a hastily put together pitch, but one I hoped would at least pique their interest enough to tell me to go for it. And pay some of my way.

After dressing in the outfit Jeremy picked out — dark jeans, leather oxfords, a white button-up and casual blazer — I kissed him at the door and left him to dream about modelling for a famous artist in one of the biggest metropolitan cities of the world and walked three blocks to the Lieutenant’s Pump.

I felt nervous because I had prepared a completely different pitch and now I needed to beg them to send me to England. I’d only been doing gigs for this magazine for a year and I didn’t know if I had enough of a reputation yet to snag myself an overseas trip. But the motivation to spend time in London with Jeremy drove me.

The editor from Outside, a Mr. Clarence Twomes, was already seated at a table in the corner of the pub. He stood when he saw me approach.

“Hey, Martin, it’s great to see you again,” he said with genuine warmth, shaking my hand enthusiastically.

“Mr. Twomes,” I smiled.

“Call me Clarence. I loved your piece on Gatineau Park, by the way. The images were incredible.”

I blushed, not used to so much admiration and respect. It bode well for my mission. “Thank you. It was something I’d worked on for awhile. I’m so grateful that Outside Magazine was interested.”

Clarence flagged the server. “What’ll you have, Martin? It’s on me. Well, it’s on the magazine, that is.”

“Oh? Great. Guiness please.”

The server left and in a few moments brought my beer. Clarence and I made small talk about the weather and then he toasted our meeting and asked what I was up to lately.

“Well, actually, that’s why I called you. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Anytime, Martin. Do you have another spread for us?”

I fiddled with the edge of the coaster. “Well, that’s the thing. I have an idea for one. But I don’t know if it fits your mandate or what kind of advance you can offer me.”

Clarence sat back in his chair. “Hit me.”

All right. Here goes.

“I want to do a piece on the New Forest in England.”

One, two, three, four — I counted silently to ten before launching into a rambling justification as I reached for my satchel. “I mean, there are — “

“I like it. The New Forest. That’s near London, isn’t it?”

Had he figured out this was all a ploy to go to London? Well, not really, because what nature photographer wouldn’t want to do a story about the New Forest?

“Well, yes, but —“

“I’ll check with the executive editor but I don’t see a problem. What’s your timeline and what do you need?”

I stared at him, speechless. How could it be this easy? I had expected to have to convince him. I left my satchel leaning against my leg.

“Um, well, I think, I’d like to go as soon as possible. Maybe the end of the month?” Jeremy’s photo shoot was on the 28th. Only a few weeks away.

“Okay. If you can submit something by the end of next month we can probably fit it into the fall issue. You’ll want your flight and accommodations taken care of I assume?”

I nodded, still a little out of it. This was not how I’d thought the meeting would go. I took a big swallow of beer.

“I can email you the forms and we can get this started. If you can get them filled out and back to me by tomorrow or Wednesday I can probably get you something by the weekend. Either an advance or a travel voucher.”

I blinked. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” I didn’t really know what to say.

He seemed suddenly to be aware of my surprise. “Martin, you’re very talented. And intelligent and well written. We’re pretty much interested in anything you want to put together, as long as it goes along with what we like to publish. A story about The New Forest falls perfectly within our interests. If it costs us a bit of money to get you over there, we’ll pay it.”


When I got home, after a great chat with Clarence about the prospects of my trip and my excitement to shoot overseas, I raced upstairs and keyed open the door with enthusiasm. Jeremy, in faded skinny jeans and a t-shirt, turned from the stove, where he was stirring a pot of what smelled like pasta sauce.

I stopped dead, experiencing a strange, surrealistic moment of gratitude and disbelief that this man was mine. When I saw him like this, suddenly after a brief or long absence, in all his laid back, sexy splendour, I was reminded how lucky I was to have him. I stood there dumbly, my eyes raking over him as if I’d forgotten what he looked like. Which was ridiculous because the way he looked, the way he smelled, all the little habitual gestures, every nook and cranny of his exemplary body was indelibly etched in my memory.

“Hey. How did it go?” He asked, as if he hadn’t just given my eyes an orgasm.

“Good,” I said, walking into the living room and putting down my satchel. “Great.”

He raised his eyebrows, pausing his stirring. “You mean — “

I smiled. “They’re paying me to go to England with you.”

“Really?” He dropped the spoon and walked over to me, eyes wide with excitement and disbelief.

I nodded. “Well, I’ll have to take some pictures.”

He stopped in front of me, raising his eyebrows again and lifting up his t-shirt slowly to reveal his fine abdomen with its soft covering of hair. He moved his other hand teasingly across skin of his belly. “Oh, yes you will, Martin. Lots and lots of pictures.”

I laughed. “Of the landscape, dumb nuts.” I said with affection, although my eyes appreciated his nakedness. So did my cock. “Of trees and greenery and ponies.”

He smirked. “I can be a pony. I’d make a cute pony.”

My cock twitched. “I don’t think that’s what Outside magazine is looking for. However,” I said, assessing him. “I’m not dismissing the idea out of hand.”

He grinned. “Seriously? We’re going to England together?”

I nodded.

“For two weeks?”

“For two whole weeks.”

He reached out, grabbed my shirt and pulled me in, kissing my neck and ear and finding his way to my mouth. I tasted his excitement and that particular flavour that was Jeremy. When we parted he looked at me with some concern.

“We have to fly you know.”

I swallowed down the flare of fear that lit inside me. “Uh huh.”

“You’re scared to fly.”

I cleared my throat, looking down. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like to.”

“But you’ll do it for me.”

I looked back up, gazing into his brown eyes. “I’ll do anything for you.”


By early the following week we had plane tickets and a hotel room booked for eight days on the magazine’s ticket, opting for a luxury King Suite and agreeing to pay any extra fee out of pocket. Then I booked us a campsite in the middle of The New Forest for the remaining four days. Jeremy’s shoot would be over and I could spend some time immersed in nature and take as many photos as possible. We could rent everything we needed for the same price as staying at a hotel for the duration.

I also booked an appointment with my doctor.

“Martin, what’s the problem today?” Dr. Acevitos asked in his usual, get-to-the-point-I-have-other-patients way.

“I, uh, I need something for my nerves,” I said, rubbing my hand on my pants. Just the thought of boarding that plane in a week sent me into a panic.

He raised his eyebrows. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

I sat in the chair beside the examination table. “I’m going to England next week,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “And I’m terrified of flying.”

His expression softened. “Ah. I see. Will you be travelling alone?”

I shook my head. “No. My partner’s going with me.”

“Jeremy,” Dr. Acevitos said, and I remembered that Jeremy was his patient as well.

“Yes. But he doesn’t know how fucking scared I am.”

Dr. Acevitos nodded, straightening up. “You’re not alone, Martin. A lot of people are afraid to fly. Especially these days, what with all the terrorist atta —“ He stopped talking abruptly when my eyes went wide. He continued, “uh, never mind. I mean, it’s a common thing.”

“Is there something I can take before I get on the plane? Something that won’t knock me right out but will make me kind of forget why I’m scared? Or something?”

He smiled reassuringly. “Absolutely.”

He keyed something into his computer and the printer spat out a paper. He handed it to me. “This is a script for Xanax. Please read the information packet carefully and take only the recommended dose and only on the morning of the flight. Too much of this stuff is going to make you really loopy, and you don’t want that.”

Oh, hell, yeah I did. I wanted to be looped out of my fucking mind. I didn’t tell him that.

“Thank you,” I said with real gratitude.

“And think about telling Jeremy how you’re feeling. Sometimes talking honestly with someone who cares can help just as much as the meds.”

I doubted that. Jeremy loved to fly. He wouldn’t understand my fear at all. He was the bravest person I knew.


On Monday morning, four days before our flight, I watched Jeremy sit down at the kitchen table and unzip the blue nylon bag that contained his daily needles. He took one out and examined it, checking for tiny particles before removing it from the plastic and setting it on a clean towel in front of him.

“I guess you’ll have to remember to pack enough of those,” I said, nodding toward the syringe.

He gave me a reassuring smile. “You bet. I’m not risking even a day without taking this stuff.”

“Good boy.”

Jeremy had Multiple Sclerosis, a fact he’d neglected to tell me when we’d met and experienced an instant attraction. A few weeks later, after a very stimulating and somewhat kinky encounter, he’d woken up in the middle of the night barely able to walk. I’d found him on the floor of my living room and he’d told me after several long moments during which I was imagining the worst that it was the MS. In the following days his doctor had put him on this daily injectable and he’d taken it religiously. He’d needed to use a cane for a few weeks but eventually recovered and had been well ever since, taking naps when he felt tired, eating healthy and exercising within reason.

I watched as he injected himself in the upper thigh, without a wince or a hiss or any sound of distress because he was so used to it. Afterwards he stood up, disposed of the needle in the Sharps container under the sink and threw away the cotton ball.

When he saw me looking he raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I love you.” It was a simple statement of my pride and affection for him. Not schmalzy or sentimental, just a fact.

He smirked and pulled out a Star Wars reference. “I know.”

I cleared my throat, suddenly realizing Jeremy was in nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs that outlined his gorgeous ass and thighs and showed off the bulge in front. Okay, who am I kidding, I noticed that when I entered the kitchen.

“When do you have to work today?” I asked, running my finger along the counter, trying to look nonchalant.

“Not ‘till four. You?”

“I don’t have any bookings today.”

Our eyes met as Jeremy straightened. “Well. Isn’t that interesting,” he said, pretending to stretch and moving in a way that caused my mouth to go dry.

“You, uh, wanna go back to bed?” I asked with a small, hopeful smile.

“I should probably shower,” he said, sniffing at his pits, which also made my dick twitch.

I shook my head. “Uh uh. No point getting clean just to get…dirty.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if you say so.”

I gestured to the bedroom. “I’ll meet you on the bed in a second.”

After I’d ripped off my t-shirt and sweatpants and collected something from the kitchen, I joined Jeremy in the bedroom.

He was lounging on the bed on his belly, still in his boxer briefs, looking at one of my Photo Lens back issues. I took a few moments to admire him before placing the bottle of honey I’d brought from the kitchen onto the bedside table with a soft thunk.

He looked over at it, then back at the magazine. “Hungry?”

I gulped. I loved the way he teased me. “Famished.”

I got up onto the bed on my knees between his spread legs and placed a hand on the sole of each of his feet, tracing up his legs very slowly as his breathing hitched and quickened. Continuing, I got to the edge of his white boxer briefs and pushed underneath, sliding my fingers to the crease of his buttocks.

He turned a page of the magazine, probably to cover up a quiet gasp, as if my actions hardly affected him at all.

I stroked my fingers along the edge of the crease for a few moments, then withdrew them and reached for the waistband of his undershorts.

“Martin,” he said calmly.

“Yes?” I breathed.

“I like where you’re going with this.”

I grinned, pulling his boxer briefs slowly down over the twin globes of his perfect ass. “Me too.”

He made a small noise when I bent my lips to kiss one, then the other. He smelled of soap and water. “Did you wash your ass?”

He giggled. “Maybe.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?”

He snorted. “Not really. I know you can’t resist it.”

“Maybe I have other ideas.”

He glanced back at me, eyebrows raised.

“Turn over,” I said.

“But then I can’t keep reading.” His lips quivered with a held-back grin.

“Good. Turn over.”

“Fine.” He pushed the magazine away and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms up over his head and pretending to yawn. “Maybe I’ll have a nap.”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you stay still and let me play with this.” I pulled the waistband of his boxer briefs down, revealing how pleased he was to see me. “I hope you washed this too.”

He did grin this time and it lit up his face like a ray of sunshine. “I covered all my bases.”

I pulled his briefs down and off his legs, tossing them to the side. “So considerate of you. Knowing I might want to put it in my mouth.”

“Always hoping.”

God, he was adorable. I just wanted to eat him up. Completely. But I’d start with his cock.

I wrapped my fingers around the base of his erection and angled it toward my mouth. Jeremy’s eyes flew open and he lifted up onto his elbows. I licked my lips, gazing at him hungrily.

“Martin,” he breathed. “You’re killing me.”

I darted my tongue out to lick the tiny bead of moisture from the tip.

Jeremy gasped and thrust upward. “Fucking tease.”

I chuckled, then licked up the entire underside and over the top, digging gently into his slit while he writhed under me.

“Oh, fuck, Martin!”

I did it again, and a third time, before plunging my mouth down over him.

Jeremy moaned and panted, unable to keep still. But I held him down while I sucked and licked, driving him mad and knowing I wouldn’t be able to wait much longer. I ground my erection into the mattress to ease some of the ache while I worked him.

Finally he said, “Martin, you need to fuck me. Like, now.”

I glanced over to the bedside table and noticed the bottle of honey I’d placed there. “Oh shit.”


“I forgot about the honey.”

“Fuck the honey, Martin. There’s no time.”

“But I had plans.”

“It’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not. Stay still.”

He moaned when I released him and reached for the bottle of honey. I’d brought it all the way in here, goddammit, and now I wanted to taste it on him. He could wait. He’d have to.

“Awe, Martin,” he whined, shifting his ass against the bed.

I held his dick in one hand and tipped the bottle of honey over it, watching as a the amber liquid dripped down over his swollen flesh.

“Fuck!” He groaned, watching it pool in his slit and slide down the side. “That looks hot.”

I nodded. “Yes, it does.” The honey coated his reaching prick and dripped down to the trimmed hair at its base.

“Holy shit, Martin, that’s enough. I’m not a bowl of ice cream.”

I grinned wickedly. “You’re even better. You’re a dicksicle.”


I raised my eyebrows. We both knew who the “pervert” was here. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You win.”

I nodded and eyed his cock as I replaced the bottle on the side table. “To the victor go the spoils,” I said, as I bent to lick the sweet honey off him.

“Oh my God,” he moaned, letting his head fall back on the bed. “You’re killing me.”

“Mmm,” I said. “Just wait.”

I dipped a finger into the honey that had collected at the base of his dick and reached under him, finding that sweet spot fairly quickly. Jeremy stiffened as I pressed against it, then relaxed, letting me push the tip of my finger inside.

He growled softly as my tongue and finger teased him, giving himself up to me and my plans.

“Why won’t you fuck me, Martin? Don’t you want to?” He panted, trembling and taut as a wire beneath me.

“I want to see you come like this. Please, Jeremy. I want you to come in my mouth.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes. “Fine. But at least use two fingers, yeah? And don’t be gentle.”

I grinned widely at the specifics of his request. Jeremy was not at all shy about asking for what he needed and I loved that about him.

“I love it when you talk dirty, Jeremy.”

“Pfft. That wasn’t talking dirty.” He sat up on his elbows to look me in the eyes as he said, “Give me your hand.”

I blinked, taking the hand I had wrapped around his dick and holding it toward him.

“Not that hand.”

“Oh.” I put it back and gave him the other one, the one that had been inside him.

“That’s right.” He grabbed the honey off the side table and tipped it over my hand, coating all of my fingers with the gooey liquid. “Okay.” He replaced it. “Now do me a favor? Slide these long fingers into me and fuck me with them until I come down your throat.”

I gulped, nodding wordlessly. Oh fuck yeah. I could do that. I could do that all day. We were making a mess of the bedsheets but I didn’t care.

Jeremy spread his legs wider and laced his hands behind his head, watching me with half closed eyes. “And hurry the fuck up, would you?”

“So demanding,” I breathed.

“You know it.”

Once I had three fingers inside him, fucking him with them as if I were balls deep, he could barely contain himself. His moans and groans threatened to bring the cops if the neighbours were home. His cock twitched and swelled in my mouth as I worked him over.

“I’m close, fuck, I’m close!” He bit out, just before he exploded and flooded my mouth with semen. His limbs locked and tensed until with a sigh, his whole body relaxed.

I coughed as I pulled off him and tried to catch my breath, sliding my fingers out of him and collapsing on the mattress by his side.

“Jesus, that was hot, Jeremy.”

“Ooooh, Martin, that was…that was…I don’t even know.” His eyes were closed and there was a blissful smile on his face. “I think I’ll have that nap now.”

I tried to calm my breathing but the fact of my own arousal was literally staring me in the face. My dick pointed straight at my chin as I lay there. I could see it quite clearly under the black cotton of my boxer briefs, and also the wide circle of darker wet cotton near the tip.

“Jeremy,” I said softly. “I hope you don’t mind if I jerk off all over you.”

Grabbing the lube, I poured some into my clean hand, then wrapped it around myself and started stroking. It wouldn’t take long.

“Just clean up after yourself, dirty boy. I may not stay awake for it.”

“Fuck!” I said. The thought of painting him with my come while he drifted off to sleep turned me on more than it probably should have.

When I was close, which only took a few seconds because of what I’d just witnessed, I kneeled up on the bed and watched the white fluid spurt out of my cock and land on Jeremy’s perfect belly and chest. I couldn’t help the soft grunts I made.

Jeremy’s eyes remained closed, his breaths even and deep. But a sly smile formed on his lips and his left elbow bent as he found the evidence of my pleasure with his fingers.

“Love you,” he whispered softly just before he drifted off to dreamland.

WB Chapter Two

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