39
FRANK
Frank shot up from the chair as if the seat had burst into flames. "I'm sorry. What can I get you to drink, Chris?"
"It's okay, Frank." Chris stood up too and grasped Frank's wrist. "I want to get to the part where we discuss this second chance that you mentioned. Now that you know I'm poz, and that's not going to change, what exactly do you want?"
A date.
A lover.
Sex without condoms.
Pick one. They all sounded great.
Frank opened and closed his mouth a few times, feeling like an idiot. The perfectly reasonable direct question naturally followed from all they'd discussed. He chose his answer. "A drink, first of all." He turned and led Chris through the doorway at the end of the room into the small kitchen.
Passing into a different room felt like a fresh start.
"Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?" Driven to be the perfect host, Frank had to make up for his previous mistakes and was relieved to see how Chris seemed ready to forgive him. "Will you stay for dinner?"
"I could go for something stronger, and dinner would be perfect too. We can eat out if you like. Or I can help you cook?"
"This time, you're my guest. Let's sort out drinks first."
Everything in the small kitchen was only a few steps away. While Chris stood just inside the doorway, Frank reached out and opened the fridge. "Beer?"
"Yes, thanks."
Frank cast a critical eye over its contents. There was probably enough food in the house to rustle up a respectable meal for two, but Frank couldn't activate the part of his brain responsible for sifting through menu plans. He pulled out four bottles and placed them on the countertop.
He opened a drawer for the bottle opener, the same drawer where he kept paper take-out menus. He pulled them out too.
"You have a lovely home."
"Thank you." Frank wasn't sure what to say to such flattery.
"Seriously. The interior is so quirky. I feel completely at home here."
Chris stepped forward into the small kitchen when he took another step closer; Frank felt the room grow warmer, as if the kitchen were on fire, activated by the very real chemistry between them.
Dropping the menus and the bottle opener on the countertop, next to the bottles, Frank placed his hands on Chris's waist and closed the gap between them. Their bodies and mouths automatically slipped together like jigsaw pieces that were meant to be.
As if something snapped inside Frank, an explosion pushed away the lid of his self-restraint. It seemed impossible, how he'd held himself together for months without this man now, that his need for the man became suddenly so all-encompassing.
Chris tasted delicious. Frank's logical thought evaporated.
The need for food and drink got pushed to one side, replaced by a greater need: to touch Chris. To show him how much Frank wanted him. Desired him.
Chris welcomed the advance with open arms. Staying connected in the embrace, he stepped back a couple of feet until he could go no further, dragging Frank with him.
With Chris pinned against the kitchen units, they threaded their fingers together as they kissed. Instinctively, though almost unaware of doing it, Frank ground his body against Chris. Just responding to the impulse to get closer and closer.
Flames of passion burned inside. Frank had a sudden and urgent need to get rid of his clothes. In minutes they'd moved from having a conversation to practically dry humping. And everything in his life felt a hundred times better. Frank didn't need speech; sentences were inadequate. He could show him instead.
"Can you wait for food?” He inhaled deeply, drinking in the warm scent of Chris, who nodded.
"I'd like to take you upstairs first."
Frank never did this: casual sex; after-work hookups; impulsive, spontaneous pinning of guests against parts of his kitchen.
At least, if he had some time back in distant history, he couldn't remember it. And if it had ever happened before, it wasn't with a man. Because with a man there had only been that one time, or more precisely, two.
And Frank remembered that whole weekend very clearly.
Even with women, Frank had never invited one home and straight up into his bedroom. He'd been taught to have more respect.
The urge to move on to intimacy didn't feel disrespectful. On the contrary. Not only was Frank filled with lust but he wanted to respectfully worship Chris from head to toe.
Somehow, Chris's hands slid between them, and he pushed on Frank's chest. "Food and drink can wait."
Still a little unsure if this wasn't all wishful thinking inside his own head, Frank grasped Chris's hand and smiled. "Upstairs then?"
Chris returned the smile and nodded.
Without wanting to drag his man caveman-style, or seem too eager and pushy, Frank led the way.
Inside the room, they both grabbed at each other's clothes and toppled onto the bed. Their mouths were firmly locked in a passionate kiss; everything else became an uncoordinated heap of entwined legs and arms.
"I can't believe I've got you here, like this," Frank mumbled between kisses as they rolled over the bed.
Briefly, Chris was on top. Nice. But not tonight. Frank wanted—no, needed—to be in control of the action. He wanted to make love to Chris, not be at the man's mercy.
They weren't going to do much at all while they still had all their clothes on—it occurred to Frank like a slap in the face, as if he hadn’t been thinking ahead. Because he hadn't. Like a man possessed, he just wanted to stay close to Chris. In direct contact. To get closer and closer and crawl inside.
Still on the bed and still dressed, snogging, and rolling about like teenagers, Frank managed to pull away enough to speak.
"I'm going to stand up and take my clothes off."
"Sounds good."
"And then I'm going to rip off your clothes."
A big, pleased with himself grin on Chris's face. "Sounds good, too."
"And then I want to do nice things to you. Whatever you like. You just need to tell me." Above all, Frank wanted to show this man how much he wanted him. This had to be more than a one-off. It just had to be.
"I think you'll manage fine without directions," Chris replied.
Breaking contact with Chris, even just to get off the bed, felt difficult. Frank never wanted to separate from the man, not even by a few inches. Not after their many months apart. Wasted time.
Chris didn't take his eyes off Frank as he rapidly removed his clothes and let them drop to the floor.
"You like what you see?"
"Frank, you have no idea."