Page 22 of Darling
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I ask the driver, Walter, to stop by a pizza place about a block from Asher’s apartment and order a vegetable option and a meat option. I’ve never met a person who doesn’t like pizza, and I don’t see Asher being the first. While it cooks, I call Gael and tell him I’m having dinner with a colleague and that I’ll be home later. I arrive at Asher’s apartment just before 8pm. After ringing the doorbell to no answer, I try the door, remembering too well what he’d said in his text earlier.I’ll be waiting ass up with the door unlocked.
Would he really?
The doorisunlocked. And when I push it open and step inside, there is only some low lighting and some Spanish-sounding music floating down the hall from the living room.
“Asher?” I call out. When I’m met with silence, I have the deflating thought that he got fed up waiting and decided to invite someone else over instead. The idea of that is disappointing, but only at first, before there’s a rush of hot lust in its wake. In the same way hearing about Felix’s exploits would always turn me on, this does, too. Wildly. I get an image of Asher on all fours, watching me as some larger, faceless man fucks him hard. I swallow.
“In the bedroom,” he replies, voice relaxed. I set the pizza down on the kitchen counter and head for his bedroom. It’s here that the music is coming from. He’s not waiting with his ass up, sadly. But he is wearing only small black briefs, cross-legged on his bed, looking fresh from the shower, dark hair damp and curled against his head. He appears to be… knitting? There’s a ball of bright blue wool in his lap as his hands work quickly, eyes focussed on the slip of fabric he’s pulling together. He turns to look at me, and his expression brightens, mouth curling up into one of his easy smiles.
“Thought maybe you’d changed your mind.” His cheeks are pink, eyes glittering. He looks sinful.
“Sorry I’m late, my final meeting ran over.”
He shrugs. “I got busy. Idle hands and all that…”
“You’re knitting.”
“I am.”
“You’re the only person, besides my mother, who knits.” I laugh in wonder.
He grins. “It’s super relaxing, ask your mom.”
“Were you stressed?”
“Not stressed,” he says, bundling the tools and fabric and setting them by the bed. “But I wasn’t sure if you were gonna make it, and I was trying to stop myself from texting you to ask where you were.”
I come a little farther into the room. “I’m sorry. I should have called to let you know I was running late. And then I stopped for pizza…”
His eyes light up, bright as beacons. “You brought pizza? Oh, well, you’re one hundred percent forgiven.” He jumps up from the bed and heads for the door, though as he tries to slip past, I reach out a hand and tug him back, pulling him close. When he drops his head back and looks up at me, I hear his breath catch in his throat.
He’s mesmerising under this light; cheeks gently flushed, skin glowing golden pink. I’m sure now that he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I reach out to smooth back a thick, dark curl from his forehead, and whisper:
“I missed you this week.”
“Yeah?” he says, eyes dipping down to focus on the button of my shirt. “Why didn’t you come see me then?”
“I was hellishly busy. And I suppose you to be very busy too. Doing whatever young, beautiful boys like you do.”
He shrugs with one shoulder. “I’m rarely busy; I leave my house to go to the store or the gym, and on the weekends I thrift and pick up old dudes in bookstores.” He drops his hands and begins to gently tug my shirt out of my belt and trousers.
I chuckle, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sounds like bliss.”
“It’s a simple life, but I enjoy it.” He lifts his eyes and gives me a very calculated look. “So what was therealreason you never called or came over?”
I sigh. “Because I’m a bloody idiot…” I close my eyes as Asher brings his lips to the underside of my jaw and presses slow, hot kisses until he reaches my mouth. There’s something minty on his tongue, something sweet, too, and I dive into it hungrily. Holding his head in place, I plunder every part of his mouth, closing my eyes against the bliss of him. When I pull back justto look at him, he’s panting and heavy-lidded, lips open and wet.
“You’re a gift,” I mutter.
He blinks slowly before lifting his head to kiss me again. Our bodies are flush against each other, dicks hard and straining. I reach down to smooth a hand over his perfect arse, gripping a handful of hard muscle.
“I really want to get fucked by you,” he whispers against my lips, eyes closed and body swaying slightly. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”
I groan and bite down on his lip. “I’ve thought about it too.”
“So, then why haven’t you?” he asks when we separate. “Is it… your wife?”