Dear Sir,

Thank you for your very interesting question. Would I do pony play? Of course not. I’m a very important actor - I don’t have time to play with horses. Besides, they can’t speak, which narrows down tremendously the list of games we could play. Unless it was Twister.

Kind Regards,

 

 

He pulls back for a second and my hands tangle in his hair, trying to bring him back to me.

“Wait,” he pants. “Are you sure?”

I glare at him. “Weren’t you just in conquering mode? Quick, go back to it before I lose my erection.”

A look comprised of both irritation and humour crosses his face, before he throws his head back and roars with laughter. “Fuck off,” he finally gasps. “Shut up and stop making me laugh.”

“Make me,” I whisper, and suddenly the mood shifts and heat rolls back in.

“Yes,” he says hoarsely, and we stare at each other for a moment before we explode into action. I’m not sure who moves first, but we’re grappling together as he pushes me against the door and takes my mouth. I feel the salt of his sweat on my lips, and I pull back and slick my tongue across his lips before delving deep again.

My back grinds into the wood of the door as he pushes hard against me, and I throw my head back, panting, as I feel the steely hardness of his cock pressing against my own. “Yes,” I mutter. “Fuck, yes,” and I pull his head back to me and fit my lips against his again.

We kiss wildly as our hands begin to roam, and the room fills with the sounds of harsh breaths and panting groans, the sibilant hiss of zippers parting, the thump of shoes being kicked off and the odd tear as clothes are surrendered in our need to get naked. Our hands cross and fumble because we refuse to unlock our lips, and all the time he’s rutting against me constantly, his cock rubbing against mine, the material of our underwear catching in the wetness of the pre-come.

I push his shirt away and fumble with his trousers, smacking his hands out of the way as he tries to help me, and hearing his grunt of amusement which dies away to a pained groan as I pinch his nipples.

Then I choke out a cry as his big hands force their way under the waistband of my trousers. I feel the calluses catch on the thin skin at my hips as he pulls the material down along with my briefs, fierce in his determination to get me naked. Finally, he achieves his goal, as he throws my shirt away somewhere in the room. Personally, I couldn’t give two fucks where it’s gone. He could have thrown it out of the window or used it to line a dog basket, as long as he’s pulling me against him and I can feel all of his big, naked body against mine.

For a second we still, before our bodies begin to move together, and I relish the feel of him. His chest is covered with rough hair that chafes wonderfully against my sensitive nipples. His legs are strong and his arms thick, and best of all, our cocks rub naked against each other, slipping in the wetness dripping from our slits. I’ve always produced a lot of pre-come and it seems he’s the same. I inhale deeply and the tang of salt, sweat and man seems to layer my throat.

“I need you inside me,” I gasp as he kisses me hungrily, making tiny groans in the back of his throat. “Jesus, I need you inside me now.”

He pulls back gasping, and I shudder at the sight of his face, slack with pleasure and fiercely intent on me. Finally, he nods.

“This is going to be quick,” he says in a guttural rasp, and I nod frantically as he bends over grabbing a sachet and a foil square from the pocket of his trousers. I gulp and without thinking, push my hand down and grab the base of my cock to stop myself exploding before he even gets near me. “I’m close already,” I warn, and he nods.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises. “Going to fuck you so good, Jude. Fuck you so hard my name’s going to be burned in your throat.”

For a second, clarity beckons, and I try to pull back and lighten the moment. “You talk big,” I say teasing. “Hope you can deliver.”

He stares at me, but he doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t take the bait. “I am big,” he says simply, “and I will always take care of you.”

Probably seeing the flare of panic in my eyes, he shakes his head and grabs my shoulder. Twisting me round so I face away from him, he pushes me forwards over the desk.

“Fuck yes,” I groan, feeling the heat roar back in and sear away the panic. I stretch out my arms and cling onto the edges of the desk to support myself as I listen blindly to the sound of foil tearing and latex being rolled on. Outside the room I hear the sound of voices, but they seem to belong to another, more distant world. He stills as if listening, but grunts a dismissal. The unmistakable snap of the condom settling makes me jump, and then I moan deeply as his big hands reach out and spread open the cheeks of my arse.

“That’s a gorgeous, tight hole,” he grumbles. “Fucking hell, Jude. Is there anything that isn’t pretty about you?”

“My mouth,” I suggest, and he chuckles and he’s so close to me the vibrations send the hairs on my body standing on end.

“I fucking know that,” he says, and he turns my head gently round to face him and takes my mouth in a heated kiss. He suckles on my tongue and licks my lips before pulling back.

“Going to get you ready,” he mutters and I moan, lowering my face down to the desk and stretching out. There’s a pause, before I feel his hands run down my back, rubbing gently over the sweat there until he reaches my backside and spreads the cheeks again. I expect some stretching, which is why I start and shout out as I feel the wet warmth of his tongue at my opening.

“Fuck,” I breathe out. “That’s … fuck. Ungh!” He chuckles and it sends shivers down my spine, and then his tongue flirts with my entrance, playing over the nerve-rich tissue and lapping at my hole. I grind down on the desk feeling my cock slide across its smooth surface, the unforgiving hardness welcome on my dick which is pulsing and leaving a trail of wetness across the expensive wood. I have a split second of rejoicing at fucking up a piece of furniture belonging to Julian, before all my thoughts scatter as Asa forces his tongue into my hole, sliding and slipping inside the sensitive rim, the scruff of his beard catching on the delicate tissues.

I grunt lewdly and force myself back, fucking myself into his mouth. Then I still as he moves away. “Where are you going?” I whine, and he chuckles hoarsely.

“I’m going to get you ready so my massive cock doesn’t hurt you,” he says in a mock concerned voice, and I snort.

“Someone thinks a lot of … oh fuck!” My words die away as one long, lube-wet finger rubs slowly against my hole, before slipping gently inside. For a second the burn is harsh, but then he crooks his finger slightly and I cry out as pleasure stampedes through my entire body. I arch up and writhe, and my moans grow louder as he slowly and meticulously adds another couple of fingers.

Finally, I feel a tell-tale tingle sliding silkily down my back. “Stop,” I whisper. “I don’t want to come without you.”

He levers back, and for a second he leans his head against my arse, his panting breaths hot and steamy. Then he moves back. “Come and take it then, Jude. Ride my cock.”

I glance over my shoulder and groan deeply. “Fuck, you look hot.” He’s sitting on the big leather office chair, his legs spread and his hand loosely fixed around his cock. His huge, hairy balls rest almost obscenely against the white leather of the chair, and his gaze is fixed on me, his cheeks flushed and sweat gleaming on his huge shoulders and the tight muscles of his abdomen. “Come here,” he commands hoarsely, and I obey as though I’m a marionette and he owns my strings.

But I’m still me, and there’s a large part of me who wants to own him back, to have him remember me and drive the thought of Phillip so far out of his head he can’t ever remember his name. So instead of straddling him as he obviously expects, I back up to him.

“Jude,” he says hoarsely, and I shake my head, bending forward and separating the cheeks of my arse so he can see my slack hole. “Ungh!” he cries out, as I sit back and begin to rub his cock over my crease, coating it in the lube and saliva.

His hands fly to my hips, grabbing me hard and directing my motions, and I know he’s bruising me. I love it, and I pant harshly as I feel the head of his cock, huge and slick from the latex, bang against my rim.

I look back, holding his gaze as I bend forwards slightly. He looks hard at me to check I’m ready. I nod impatiently, and he obeys my unspoken command and grabs his cock, holding it steady as I lower myself onto him. I cry out at the first inch. He’s not only big but also wide, and the burn is like a fire in my blood.

“Easy,” he grunts. “Take it easy, sweetheart. Go slow.”

But I can’t, because it feels too fucking good, and I shout out as I relax and force his length steadily into me, until I feel the bang of his heavy balls against me. He grabs my hips and we both pant out, sweat dripping down our bodies. “Slow down,” he says almost tenderly. “I’ve got you.” Then he cries out as I start to move.

“I can’t stop,” I moan, as I start to undulate on him, moving up and down, and back and forth in a sinuous rhythm. I can feel him like a steel pipe inside me, owning me, splitting me in two. Then he cants his hips and I yell out his name as he hits my prostate and sends showers of pyrotechnics through my body, under the skin. “Right there,” I say hoarsely. “Fuck. Right there.”

His hands move ceaselessly on me, stroking my chest, grabbing my arms and pulling at my nipples to the soundtrack of grunts and moans. The air is heavy and dense with the scent of sweat and sex, and I inhale sharply before a stream of guttural cries fall from my lips

“So gorgeous,” he mutters, his voice thick and almost incomprehensible. “Look at you on my cock. You’re everything I thought you’d be, and more.”

An urgency fills me and I start riding him harder, my legs trembling with the effort of holding my body in this position. I’m blind and deaf to everything now, apart from the need to come, and I send my hand down to where my cock bobs, blood red and oozing pre-come so it drips down and falls to the floor.

“Got to come,” I moan. “So fucking good, Asa. I’ve got to come now.”

Suddenly his hands are on my hips holding me tightly, and I cry out as he stops me. “Wait,” he says urgently. “I’ve got to see you. Turn round.”

Obeying his urging and holding my cock in a tight fist, I lift off him, grunting at the emptiness in my arse.

He spins me around quickly and pulls me forward. “Climb on,” he whispers, arranging my body so I squat over him, my knees either side of his hips and digging into the sides of the chair. “Yes,” he groans as he holds his cock and I slide down it again.

It’s easy now. I’m open to him in all ways, my whole being focused on him as I begin to move. I want to close my eyes, but he grabs my face and gently shakes it. “No. Look at me,” he whispers. “Look into my eyes while I fuck you.”

I hold his gaze and it’s unbearably intimate, like nothing I’ve ever done before. I’ve never wanted to look another man in the eyes before, just wanted to be done and come. Now, I focus on his stare, seeing how his pupils have bled out so his eyes appear to be black. There’s something about his scrutiny, something real and warm and full of heat, and I catch my breath like I’m caught in a spell, because I can’t look away.

I moan under my breath, and as if taking pity on me, he holds my hips still and begins to thrust up into me, the power and strength evident in every line of his large body. He’s hitting my good spot constantly now and I moan, breaking his gaze and throwing my head back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters. “Every line of your body.” I look down but I can hardly see him. All of my attention is on those churning hips and the feel of him sliding into me.

“I need to come,” I gasp out. “Asa.” His hands leave my hips and he reaches in to grab my cock. “Shit, the head’s so sensitive,” I gasp, and he grimaces, his teeth bared.

“Look at all this pre-come,” he mumbles. “You’re making a mess of me.” He slides his big hand up and over the head of my cock quickly, the sound obscene in the silent room. “Come on,” he urges through gritted teeth. “Ride my dick. Make me come. Make a mess all over me.”

I give out a shout and force my arse down fast, feeling the root of his cock as it stretches my anus, and I shiver all over as I go hot and cold while lightning rips through my groin. “Coming,” I shout. “Fuck, I’m coming.” I look down in time to see thick stripes of come splashing his tanned, hairy torso and his hand milking the final drops from my shaft. Then as I collapse onto him, he lets go of my cock, seizes my hips and roars, and I feel heat inside me as he pours his come into the condom.

For several long minutes we sit still, judders echoing through our bodies and occasionally shuddering with aftershocks. Finally, I stir. “Do you think they’ll notice if we go for a dip in the pool and cool off?”

It’s strange and lovely to sit on him still stuffed full of his cock, and feel the laughter rumble through me like faraway thunder on a still summer’s night.

***

Hours later, I stir in his arms and laugh.

“What?” he mutters, tightening his grip.

“I was just thinking of everyone’s faces when we left the party.”

He chuckles and I feel it move through the big body I’m lying against. “It was a bit obvious.”

“A bit? Asa, I had beard burn all over my face and neck, and your shirt was ripped at the seams.” I laugh again, because we’d blithely strolled out of there as insouciantly as if we were leaving church. “I can’t believe you said ‘thank you for a good party’ to Julian.”

He laughs. “Well, it was. Just not the way he intended.”

I turn my head to study him. The room is lit only by the light of a full moon, and it caresses his features, bathing him in the glow, making him seem almost like a god come to life to sleep with a mortal, like in the Greek myths. However, I don’t think a Greek god would wear his expression of deep satisfaction and contentment. I know the look because I wear it too. I feel sated down to my bones.

We’d driven back sitting decorously a foot away from each other in the car, but when we walked through the door all bets were off, and he fucked me hard on the stairs, both of us shouting and groaning loud enough to wake the dead. Asa might be a gentle giant, but it doesn’t carry over into the bedroom.

Then he brought me upstairs to his huge, beautiful room at the top of the house. One wall opposite the bed is made entirely of glass, giving a wide view of the Mallorcan coastline. At that time, it was lit up like a Christmas tree, and the windows were open with a salt scented breeze blowing through.

He looked almost diffident, as if he expected me to do a runner, but instead, I stripped off what remained of my clothes and climbed into the huge bed. He smiled happily and jumped in too, then drew me to him. We lay there for a while, cuddled close and drifting in our own thoughts.

My thoughts scatter as he looks down and catches me staring, smiling before leaning in and taking my lips in a deep kiss. When I come up for air we’re both breathing heavily, and the sated feeling is gone, replaced by the same gnawing need as before.

Finally, he sets me back. “You’re sore. Let’s have a break.”

“And do what?” I pout, and he smiles.

“How about have a conversation?”

“We talk all the time.”

“No. This is after sex conversation. It’s supposed to be intimate, and not just talking about what Billy wants for lunch and who did the laundry.” He stills. “At least I think it is.”

I stare at him. “You think? You were with Phillip for four years. Did you not talk to him during that time?” I pause. “Did he lose the power of speech, because it actually explains the four years together?”

He laughs. “No, I suppose we didn’t talk very much. At least I don’t remember if we did. We’d have sex and just go to sleep.”

“Aren’t you sleepy now?”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “No. I want to know stuff.” I stiffen and he tightens his grip. “I don’t need your deeply hidden secrets, Jude. I would never ask for them. No. I just want to know things about Jude Bailey that other people don’t discover.”

I lift up on my elbow. “Well, it’s the same for you then.” He looks at me in query. “I want to know things about you too.”

He looks almost shyly pleased. “Okay, we’ll take it in turns for facts.” He looks at me. “You start.”

I lower myself to lie down, but he grabs me and pulls me into his side. “Okay,” I laugh. “Let me think.”

“Biggest trouble you got into as a child?” he prompts.

“Getting caught smoking.”

“How were you found out?”

“I set fire to the sofa. I thought I’d put it out when I hid it down the back of the cushions, but I hadn’t. It was a new sofa and suddenly there was a massive fucking hole in it.”

“What happened?” Laughter is rich in his voice and I snuggle closer, putting my head on his chest and hearing the beat of his heart.

“I sat on the hole for as long as I could, but I was found out when I had to go to the loo. You could hear my mum shouting in Exeter.”

He bursts into laughter, and I lean into him. “Your turn for a secret. How did you get that scar over your eyebrow?”

“Hmm. Real story or boasting banter?”

I laugh. “Both.”

“Okay. If I’ve had a few beers I’ll tell a tale of a jealous man coming home and finding me in bed with his lover. That man became homicidal with rage and attacked me with a crowbar.”

“Why did he have a crowbar in the bedroom? Is this ‘The Krays’?”

“Shh.” I can hear the laughter running through his voice. “You’re spoiling my tale.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“The crowbar swung and hit me in the face, but I have extensive martial arts training and I removed the weapon from his grasp, knocked him out and fucked his lover on the bed again.”

“Wow. And the real story?”

“I slipped in some butter on the kitchen floor, and knocked myself out when I hit my head on a kitchen cupboard.”

I burst out laughing, and then we’re off. We talk for ages, exchanging silly stories and funny secrets until the darkness fades and the room fills with the milky light of an early Mallorcan dawn.

I look out at the view where a few lights still gleam in the lavender sky. The sound of the surf is loud in the early morning stillness. I feel the heat of his body against me, his hairy legs tangled with mine and his cock and balls soft and somehow vulnerable nestled against my thigh. I feel peace steal over me, and I know it’s time.

“I want to tell you,” I say quietly, and he stays silent, studying my face with his clever, tired eyes before nodding.

I nestle closer. “On my twenty first birthday, a tractor rolled over my dad and paralysed him. It changed everything.” He jerks and tightens his grip and I rest my head on his shoulder, looking out to sea because it’s easier than meeting his warm, steady gaze.

“Tell me,” he says softly.

“It’s easier if you understand our back story. My family has a farm in Devon. It’s next door to Dylan’s parents’ farm and in a lovely part of the country. Dylan and I grew up together, and we really had a very good childhood. We didn’t have much money, but we didn’t need it as kids because we spent our days roaming the fields far and wide. That idyllic life changed when foot and mouth hit the village and surrounding farms. We lost our entire herd and it was terrible.” I swallow hard. “I can still smell the stench of the fires where we burned the animals, and hear …”

My voice dies away and I swallow. “Anyway, it was a very rough time and it took years for the farm to pick up. I found out later my dad had re-mortgaged the farm, but we still lost the farmhands because we couldn’t afford them, and my mum had to take two jobs cleaning to help with the bills. My dad hated it, but eventually things started to pick up. I was accepted at the same uni as Dylan but I decided I wasn’t going to go, until my mum and dad forced the issue. My dad didn’t want me to end up like him. He’s extremely clever and loves British history with an absolute passion. He’s very well read. You’d love him.”

He tenses, and I carry on quickly. “Anyway, he wanted more for me and I honestly fucking loved learning. I loved uni when I got there. Didn’t want to be anywhere else, and I did really well.”

“What did you study?”

“History.”

“Ah, of course.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Did you get your degree?”

“Of course,” I say in a slightly offended voice, and he laughs. “I got it with Honours, and was accepted on a Masters course.”

“Jesus,” he mutters in a proud voice. “So not fucking stupid. You could run rings around me, Jude.”

“I don’t know about that, but I did love it. Uni was a safe little world within a world, and it was so colourful and bright. The farm was doing better at that point as far as I knew. I met someone and fell in love with him.” Asa doesn’t disguise the tightening of the muscles in his body, but he remains silent. “His name was Sam. He was at the same uni as me, studying civil engineering. We were complete opposites actually. He was extremely practical and focused, didn’t have any patience for reading books or art. He was an outside person and very sporty. I was dreamy, disorganised and untidy.” I sigh. “But we worked for a long time.”

“How long were you together?” he whispers, and his grip is tight on me. The Yorkshire accent is strong in his voice now, and for some reason the deep, gritty rumble makes me feel safe and warm.

“Three years. I met him when I was eighteen. I was young but I never looked at another man.” I stare unseeing at the view, my mind taking me down paths of memory I haven’t walked in a long while. “We did get on despite the differences, and we did love each other very much. We had a lot of plans before the accident. I was starting on my Masters. He was halfway through his. I was going to become a professor because all I wanted to do was teach. He had a big job lined up, so we were going to travel and buy a house together. I was very happy,” I say quietly.

“What changed?”

I shake my head, rolling to my back and looking blindly at the beams in the ceiling. “The accident. It changed everything. My dad was very badly hurt. At first, we didn’t think he was going to pull through. Then when he did, there were a lot of things he needed to adapt to. He’d always been a very proud man and definitely the head of the house, so to have no workable legs and be reliant on his wife sent him into a deep depression.”

“Not surprising. So why did this change things with Sam?”

I balk and look at him, seeing the look of incomprehension on his face. “Well, I was away a lot. Whereas before we’d go out hiking or playing tennis or football, afterwards, I was flying back down the motorway to go home whenever I had a spare minute. I needed to check on my parents and help on the farm.” I shrug. “There were a hell of a lot of cancelled plans, which was all my fault, and he began to get cross about my focus being away from him and us. But I don’t think that alone would have finished us.”

“What did?”

I sneak a peek at him to see a face full of ruffled anger as he stares at me. “The modelling. Dylan used to go out with a model called Patrick. We went to London to meet him one weekend, and an agent for one of the big agencies gave me his card and said he’d like to represent me. Needless to say, I said no. I had a different life planned. But when my dad was so sick, my mum finally gave in and showed me the books. They’d hidden a lot of the problems from me, so I was shocked to find they had taken out another loan on top of the mortgage, and the interest on it was crippling. Not to mention with my dad sick, there was no one working the farm apart from me, so it was rapidly going downhill. They were going to lose the family home, and if my dad was going to get better, he needed help and he needed it right then, which meant private care. I couldn’t let them lose the farm. It would have killed my dad at that point.” I shrug. “At first, I was just going to return home and run the farm, but my mum didn’t want that for me. Then right at the worst point, I found the business card stuffed in my wallet. It was like the answer to our prayers. I could make enough money to pay the bills, and the mortgage and loan, and pay a local man to manage the farm.”

I laugh. “Of course, I didn’t realise male models earn a fraction of what female models do, so money was still tight until I landed a big contract and then another, and then I began to be booked regularly and started making really good money.” I shake my head. “It’s still not enough, and we have to be frugal, but we manage, and my dad is so much better now. He’s more mobile because he’s got a really good electric wheelchair which I got with the money from the Calvin Klein job. We get by, and they’re happy.”

“And Sam?” His voice is hushed as if he doesn’t really want to hear it, and I turn to him, running my finger down his face, over his full lips, and scratching into his beard. He stretches under me and gathers me close so I’m now looking at him.

“He couldn’t stand the modelling stuff for a start. He thought it was trivial and lightweight.” I laugh. “It’s good I was lightweight. I’d have never got the underwear jobs otherwise.” He doesn’t smile for some reason, so I carry on. “Anyway, he began to be very resentful of the fact I was always working, and if I wasn’t working, I was at the farm helping out. We went from having spare cash to suddenly my having no money because everything was being sent home. This was before I got the bigger jobs. Then we had to cancel a holiday we planned, and I think it was the last straw.”

“What happened?” His voice is tight.

I shrug. “The usual. I came home early from a shoot intending to surprise him, and got a bit of a shock myself to find him fucking a friend of mine in our bed.”

“Jesus!” he says explosively.

I shrug. “That’s about it. We had a huge fight. He said I was distant and self-obsessed. That I’d never have a relationship because I was selfish and never gave the other person any time. He said he’d been fucking the other bloke for a month, and he presumed I’d be the one to move out of the flat, seeing as I could barely cover the rent on a good day.”

“What a complete and utter wanker.”

“What else could he do?” I say carelessly. “Why would he want to be with someone who was never there? I’m going to be in debt until I retire and maybe beyond that, because the interest gets worse all the time. I can’t do holidays, or go out at the drop of a hat, because I have responsibilities. What else could he do?”

“Erm, go with you and help at the farm. Help with the money and just be there for you,” he says simply.

I gape at him. “Well, I suppose when you put it like that,” I say faintly, and incredibly he laughs. Then he sobers.

“Is that why you won’t commit? Why you don’t want a relationship. Because of one tosser?”

“Of course not,” I say indignantly. “I’m not an idiot. There was more than one tosser.” I hold up my hand and start counting on my fingers. “Malachi, who I thought was serious. He fucked off when I couldn’t go to Ibiza for the summer. Then there was Neal, who thought Devon was a third world country, and couldn’t see why I had to go back there when Glastonbury was on. Then finally, there was the glorious Guy, who told me he couldn’t stay with someone with erectile problems, all because I refused sex when I’d just done a twenty-four-hour round trip for a shoot in South Africa.”

I shrug. “And that’s just the tip of the awful dating iceberg.” I sit up and run my hand down his huge chest, twining my fingers in the wiry hair before looking at him. “I came to the conclusion a long time ago that it’s too much trouble and upsetting to keep becoming attached to people who won’t stay. I know it’s no one’s fault, but the fact remains, this is my life, and I can’t ask anyone to join me in drowning under a mountain of debts and family obligations.” I pause and say slowly, “I also really fucking hate letting people down. It makes me feel sick, so it’s easier all the way round to stick to casual hook-ups.”

He stares up at me and I mentally freeze frame the moment in my head so I can remember him as he is now. His long body with the tanned skin and hair-roughened muscles, lying sprawled in pale blue sheets, his long, wavy, dark hair a mess on the pillow. His full lips are tight with some emotion, and his eyes tired, the crow’s lines more prominent now, but he’s more attractive to me at this point than in any of his films, which I’ve secretly watched over the last couple of months.

I inhale slowly. Talking about all this is too painful. I need to change the subject. “I know you really want to fuck me,” I say, running my fingertips over his nipple and watching it tighten.

His breath catches. “And I know you’re attempting to change the subject,” he returns calmly. “How about we combine the two activities?”

I laugh, feeling relieved to be able to stop talking, and by the look in his eyes he knows exactly what I’m thinking. He draws me down to him and kisses me hard as his hands slide and grab me, but even when we make love, my subconscious notices that his grip is soft and warm and very hug like, and his eyes are tender and warm. But he says nothing, and he lets me keep my delusions of this being nothing more than a fling. The trouble is, at this point, even my subconscious knows I’m wrong.

Later, when I know he’s deeply asleep, I pull him to me and do what I’ve wanted to do, which is hold him tight. I lean in and inhale the scent of lime from his body wash which seems to cling to him, like sunshine has somehow attached itself to his pores. His hair smells of coconut, and his body is loose and warm against me. I push my nose into the shiny strands and kiss his head and tighten my grip. He stirs slightly, making a stifled sound of protest, his nose screwing up before he retreats into sleep again.

I stare down at him and I know I’m fucked. What he just told me has managed to fill me with powerful dual emotions. I feel honoured because he’s trusted me when I know he doesn’t trust anyone else apart from Dylan, and it’s mixed with a sense of jubilation because I knew I was right about him. Every syllable of the story showed me the man I have come to know - kind and intelligent and fiercely loyal to his bones. The kind of man I would be proud to be with. I sigh heavily and close my eyes in defeat. The kind of man I’m in love with.

I knew I was in love with him when I let him take Billy. Others might have sniffed at the wisdom, but I watch him with Billy and I know he loves him too. He might not know it himself yet, but he watches over Billy as if he’s one of his own. I know he would die for my child, and I had not one flicker of doubt at handing Billy into his care. Interestingly, all those who know him didn’t quibble either.

I run my fingers though his inky hair, still unused to the short cut. I was secretly horrified at the loss of the curls, but the style does seem to draw attention to his high cheekbones and full lips. I look at his face, quiet and content in sleep, and smile, because he’s so much more than his looks. I love everything about him. His lightning quick wit, his laughter which has made my house a home again. The sense of a kindred, impish spirit, and a mind that matches and exceeds mine, so I sometimes skip to catch up with him. The beauty, and the true strength of him.

My hand falls away as I stare out at the milky dawn. I know, when he told me that story, he was also telling me why, in his mind, we will never be together. He gave to me with one hand, and immediately took that joy away, and I can’t hate him for it. Everything he’s been through, all the arseholes who have danced through his life and run away from him, have taught him the wrong lessons in life. They taught him not to trust in the power of love, when he’s the biggest shining proponent of it I have ever seen.

I know this is going to hurt, because every time he gets close he dances away as if I’ll hobble him, when all I want to do is love him and be with him. I’ve never felt this way before, not even with Phillip, and seeing them together tonight was like putting chocolate coins next to real gold. There is no comparison. When I’d first seen Jude, I’d seen him through the prism of Phillip. I saw the similarities and dismissed the differences, but tonight, all I can see is Jude. I feel alternatively deeply thankful because I have finally been given the gift of truly knowing and loving someone, and despairing as there’s a very real chance he will leave me, and this time, the devastation I felt when Phillip left will be like a mere paper cut compared to the near fatal wound of Jude’s departure.

I feel panic rising up in my throat because I’ve lost so many people. How will I stand to lose him too, the best of all of them? Then he moves and turns into my embrace, sliding one long leg between mine. He smacks his lips slightly and then half smiles. Asa, he mutters, and then tunnels into my embrace and goes back to sleep.

My arms tighten and I inhale. I haven’t really got a choice. It’s freeing in its own foolish way. I rest my head on his and fall asleep, lulled by the sound of the roaring surf and his soft snores.