Page 70 of Rhymes with Metaphor
“Why aren’t I with you?”
“I thought you’d want your own space, cariad.”
“You don’t want me to sleep with you?”
“Of course, you can sleep with me.But this is your room so you can have some privacy if you want.Come along.Let’s have dinner, and we’ll have a quiet night in.Or a boisterous one—your choice.”
That night, Reg had barely settled into his bed before Joel knocked on his door and came in, and, after asking Reg if it was all right in such a sweet, tentative manner, climbed into bed with him.They lay awake for a time—Reg revising the poem he’d written on the journey and Joel writing in his new journal with his gold pen.Periodically, he stopped writing to hold it up to the light admiringly.
The next morning, Reg drove them to the local train station and parked the car.
“You can’t visit here and not ride the train,” said Reg.
On the train, Joel sat by the window and looked, with endearing fascination and delight, at the foliage, green-green-green, the wildflowers, the fields, the hedgerows, the terraced houses, the warehouses and the office buildings sweeping past.
In Cardiff, Reg took Joel to the castle, and as they climbed the stairs in the castle keep, Reg let his hand steal to Joel’s waist, and in the cool shadows they exchanged clandestine touches, and in the sun at the top, they exchanged meaningful looks, and by the end of their visit, Joel was eager to be home.However, Reg insisted they stop in at the little gift shop, where he bought Joel a silver bottle opener with a handle shaped like a sheep, and Joel bought Reg a lump of coal on a novelty keychain as a joke, and Reg put it in his pocket.Then, on Reg’s insistence, they had lunch at a pub.Joel bumped his knee against Reg’s leg as they ate.
“Remember your elements, boy,” said Reg.
Reg was tempted to touch Joel’s face, but anyone could see them here, and he and Joel didn’t have a public relationship.After dating Flip for so many years, Reg was practiced at containing himself.
On the way back, as the train neared their destination, Joel spent less time looking through the window and more time gazing at Reg.Their glances became prolonged and intense.
“How much longer?”said Joel.
“Nearly there.”
Joel was leaning against him in his seat, his knee bumping Reg’s thigh.
“How much longer can you wait?”said Reg as the train stopped at the station.
“Not much.”
As they got off the train, Reg took Joel’s elbow and steered him to the men’s toilets.
“Oh,” said Joel, looking at the sign.“I didn’t mean—”
Reg led him in the door.The place was deserted, whitewashed walls and a translucent skylight mottled with pigeon shit.A window near the ceiling was cantilevered open and let in the saltwater breeze.Before Joel could protest, Reg pushed him into a stall and shut and locked the door.There was a smell of damp limestone and a shiver of pigeon feathers overhead.
Reg pressed Joel against the wall of the stall and held him there.He grasped the tab of Joel’s fly, tugged it down, and put his hand inside.Joel made a surprised sound, curling in on himself.He was already very hard.
“Here?”said Joe, uncertain.
“Unless you want to wait till we get home?”said Reg, clasping Joel.Joel’s cock jumped in his hand.“Didn’t think so.”
Then Reg went down on his knees in front of him on the cold tiled floor.Reg rolled his tongue over the glistening head of Joel’s cock.Doing it for the first time with Joel standing was risky when neither of them knew how his body would respond to being blown, let alone being blown in a public place.In particular, this public place.Reg filled his mouth with Joel, and Joel, who was usually so quiet, made a quick sharp sound, and Reg tasted salt on his tongue.He pulled off and saw Joel leaning his head back against the stall, hands trembling and slack, eyes closed.But he opened them when Reg let go.
“Keep going?”said Reg.
Joel nodded quickly, unable to form words.He wasn’t going to last very long.The sound of Joel’s harsh, staccato breaths filled the stall.Joel, on the verge of bubbling over, put one hand on the top of Reg’s head to steady himself.Reg felt like water was closing over him, sounds muffled and echoey.Joel wasn’t quiet.He made a noise between a sob and a wail when he came in Reg’s mouth, and he folded forwards, knees buckling.Reg kept him upright and held him in his mouth until he was finished before pulling off and spitting into the toilet.
On the stall wall beside Joel’s hip, someone had written in marker2341 ostentatio.Reg took the stick of novelty coal out of his pocket and drew a checkmark on the stall wall beside Joel’s other hip.Then he tucked Joel’s cock, still a little hard, back into his trousers and carefully zipped him up.He gathered Joel against him and hugged him.
“Well done,” Reg whispered, patting Joel’s shoulder.“Now, sort yourself out.”
Joel tucked his shirt in and ran a hand through his hair as Reg attempted to brush the dirt off the knees of his trousers.
As they walked out, he could still taste Joel, sticky as candy floss, his stomach was whirling, and the left knee of his trousers was damp.Joel could barely walk, right foot and left trying to lead him in different directions.Reg put his splayed hand in the middle of Joel’s back and steered him to the car.Joel collapsed into the passenger seat, and stretched, extending his arms above his head, then put his hands over his face, fingers spiderwebbed across it.
