Page 66 of The Best of Times
Aron jumped onto the bed and lost himself once more in Paul’s arms. He leant up and kissed Paul. The instant lust of the previous night fired through his system, directly to his cock. Paul must have noticed, as he broke the kiss.
“Down, boy,” he said. “We’re late for duty as it is.”
Sighing, Aron snuggled into Paul one last time. They both would have to report in at Granny’s soon. Things may be on the home straight. The mission was clear. Get everything in place. Have Christmas Day. Then wedding.
Then what?
As much as he didn’t want to spoil things with a heavy talk, the uncertainty was killing him. Did Paul see this as a welcome distraction? Or did he expect more to come from this?
Aron didn’t even know if he wanted that. With Paul and the potential job, his head was fried. Maybe he should stay within the wedding bubble for a while. Let things play out by themselves.
“You haven’t dozed off, have you?” Paul asked.
“Nearly. I need a shower to wake me up. I didn’t get much sleep last night for some reason.”
“Main bathroom is across the hall. Don’t forget to mess up your bed.”
Aron got up. “This is all very illicit. I like it.”
“Do you?” Paul replied.
“Of course,” Aron said. His heart was hammering and he hoped he wasn’t blushing too furiously. “Don’t you?”
Just as Paul opened his mouth, the front door banged.
“Shit,” Paul cried. “Go. Go. Go.”
Aron grabbed his clothes from the corner of the room and fled.
“Paul?” the Professor shouted up the stairs. “Aron?”
“Up here, Dad. We slept in. I’ll check Aron is up.”
Aron palmed his cock at Paul before disappearing into the spare room. The temptation to give the Professor an eyeful in retaliation to the Gucci robe incident was strong.
Another day, Professor Higgs.
Once inside the bedroom, he steadied himself against the door. What had Paul meant? Had he been about to say something earth-shattering?
Fuck!
Three hours later and they were done. To be fair to Edwin and Anais, they had pulled some good quality stuff out of the bag. Even if Anais looked as though she needed a bottle of wine and a week in a health spa to get over the stress.
The marquee could be removed in half an hour, leaving a green carpet, huge floral arrangements and a small dais at the front for the happy couple.
Aron took it all in. Each seat had a pashmina Anais had sourced from a knitwear collective in south London. They’d bought them out. They would be gifts for each guest after the ceremony. Mercury had his eye on any left for the youth project he worked with. Aron had promised him first dibs.
He really hoped the weather would be kind. It was gorgeous inside but to have the wedding in front of the whole of Queens Crescent was no less than his grandmother deserved.
They only had room for fifty seats inside. Aron had encouraged Granny and the Professor to be brutal with the guest list. Something the Professor had struggled with but Granny had taken to with aplomb.
Across the way, Edwin consoled Anais. Her idea for Parkin to wear a cream tuxedo had been met with scorn by Granny. Poor Anais had pushed a little too hard and been rewarded with a Beatrice Wimpole dressing-down.
Aron stiffened when he saw his parents enter the marquee.
What are they doing here?
Before he had a chance to go over, Paul abandoned tying garlands to the tent poles and was by his side in seconds.
