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I made it home before Kevin did, for once blessed by the traffic-light gods. I scuffled with the front door, ran in and straight up the stairs before a guilty and caught-out Phil could even slither off the sofa, and burst into my bedroom.

“Okay,” I said, both hands in my hair. “Stay calm. Stay calm, and be normal about this.” I rushed over to the window to see if I could spot Kevin’s Land Cruiser. There was no sign of it.

Fantastic.

I bolted to the bathroom, loaded up my toothbrush, stuck it in my mouth and frisked it about whenever I had a hand free while I tidied up my bedroom.

I was a tidy man in general, and it wasn’t as if I thought Kevin was going to critique the straightness of my duvet and the plumpness of my pillows, or even notice the ferocious dust-bunny situation I had going on under the bed, but this was more of that new territory I’d been thinking about earlier, and I was panicking.

The thing was that, yes, technically I was a virgin.

It all depended on your definition of sex.

Different people had different definitions, and that was cool. That was their business.

As for me, my personal definition right now involved dicks and butts—specifically dicks going up butts—and as far as all that went, I was as yet unbreached.

When I finished school at eighteen, I’d headed off to university in Brighton for my business degree. By then I was fairly sure that I was gay, and I’d chosen Brighton for its inclusivity and queer community.

As it turned out, being gay in the middle of an accepting queer community didn’t automatically mean people liked you or invited you to parties.

Or anywhere.

My sexuality was welcomed. My awkwardness and unsociability was not.

University was about as full of opportunity and fun as secondary school had been. I managed to hook-up a grand total of twice.

I’d enjoyed the kissing, although on both occasions it had been perfunctory and no more than an opening gambit to the main event.

The first time I got a blow job, I came as soon as the guy put his mouth on me. When I reciprocated, he came on my face without asking and gave me an eye infection

The second time—different guy—I lasted fifteen seconds. He lasted the longest fifteen minutes of my life, and I’d given serious thought to slapping him in the balls if he didn’t stop pulling my hair and calling me names on his way to an orgasm.

The whole business was a disappointment from start to finish.

Contrary to my somewhat naive expectations, I didn’t blossom into a confident gay man who knew what he wanted and, critically, knew how to get it. I didn’t even get over being off-puttingly shy and independent, and transform into a bubbly extrovert.

Instead, I got a reputation (again) for being a grumpy arsehole (fair) and since no one really wanted to add grumpy arsehole to their friend group or hook-up list, I dedicated myself to my studies and came back to Chipping Fairford with two forgettable blow jobs and a business degree under my belt.

Well, one forgettable one. The eye infection was a bastard.

The coffee shop had taken up all of my time since, and I was fine with it.

Now Kevin wanted to ‘explore me all over’, and I was also fine with that.

Not freaking out at all.

I refused to freak out. My room was tidy, I’d already showered at the gym, I was minty fresh…

Where the fuck was Kevin?

He’d better get here in the next ten minutes because otherwise, I’d definitely chicken out.

I ran back down the stairs and sat on the sofa to await my new front door and my deflowering.

So much for my decision not to sleep with Kevin. He’d told me he was going to have sex with me, and that was it. I’d folded like wet cardboard.

I’d always known I would.

I had a terrifying suspicion that Kevin had worked that one out.

Phil stumped over and set his head on my lap. He whined sadly. He wasn’t sensing my turmoil and offering support or anything. It was just, Phil was there, I had two functioning hands at the end of my arms, and yet I wasn’t fussing him. Why not?

I scrunched his ears for a bit.

Once he slid to the floor for a snooze, I got up and paced the sitting room.

Was there anything I should be doing to prepare, other than tidying my bedroom?

This really wasn’t my wheelhouse. I was a terrible host at the best of times. I had next to no practice at it.

When you spend long, long days doing nothing but serving people delightful beverages and delicious snacks, the last thing you want to do when you clock off is invite people to your house, where you were expected to serve them delightful beverages and delicious snacks.

Jasper came around all the time. Liam came slightly less often but only because his work hours were more rigid. He made time for it. He loved Phil even more than Jasper did.

Pippa invited herself over on the odd occasion, but the person who came over most was Suzanne Lawson. Again, for Phil.

I hadn’t realised that so many of my limited pool of friends came over mostly for my dog.

The doorbell let out its sad little meep, followed up immediately by a loud and cheerful pounding.

“I’m coming!” I called out, rushing into the hall.

“You will be!” Kevin hollered back.

I wrestled with the door.

“Charlie?” Kevin said on the other side. “Hello?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m…hang on.” I braced a foot on the doorframe and strained to haul the door open.

I shouldn’t have worked so hard at the gym. My arms were as weak as noodles.

“Charlie?”

“I’m here! Give me a minute. It’s sticking again.”

“Want me to shove it from this side?”

“If you must, you can give it a little push.”

He gave it a big push, the door popped open, and Kevin fell through. I caught him before he took the pair of us down to the floor, and he slung an arm around my waist.

“Mm,” he said. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

He kissed me, and he entered my mouth the same way he’d entered my house—loudly, overwhelmingly, and making me flinch with surprise.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back to bite my lips, then pressing his tongue back inside to show mine who was boss. “Mhm. You taste good.”

I licked my lips. “You taste like sugar. And…blueberries?”

“Gatorade. Chugged a couple of bottles on the way over. Gotta hydrate and make sure my electrolytes are well balanced.” He gave me a meaningful look. “Gonna be working hard for you, Charlie.”

See, this was the sort of thing it would have been helpful to know about with regards to preparing for sex. Get in some energy drinks. I didn’t know you needed those.

Unless that was a Kevin thing rather than a universal thing?

“Right,” he said briskly. “Ali will be here with the door any minute. I’ll grab my tools and get set up.” He strode back to his Land Cruiser and I let the doorframe hold me up as I watched him go.

I loved the way he moved.

It wasn’t a sexy prowl, or an arrogant strut. It was contained and powerful. You got the feeling he could walk through mountains if he wanted whatever was on the other side.

He opened up the back of the Land Cruiser and leaned in, rummaging around. His broad shoulders and his sides under his tight navy t-shirt flexed.

He came back up the drive with a tool belt slung over his shoulder and a large toolbox in one hand. He set the toolbox on the doorstep and straightened, staring at me as he slid the belt off his shoulder, slung it around his hips, and buckled it. Slowly. Lingeringly.

“What is this, a reverse striptease?” I said, trying to cover the fact that my breathing had sped up.

“I’m just standing here putting my tool belt on, Charlie,” he said. “Why? Is it turning you on?”

“Nope.” Only because watching him bend over and get his toolbox out of the back of his Land Cruiser had already done the job. I reached out and unpoppered one of the little pouches hanging from the belt. “What on earth do you even need all of these for, anyway?”

“Bits and bobs,” he said. He wrapped his long fingers around my wrist, but not to stop me investigating or to pull me away. Just to hold me.

He liked to hold me.

I eased a little closer. “Such as?” I opened the flap and sifted around inside. I pulled out a couple of screws, made a considering noise, and put them back in. Kevin’s head was tilted at a slight angle. His attention was steady on me as I tried out another pouch. This one held a measuring tape. I tugged it free and opened it.

Kevin shifted his hips, then put his hands on mine and zipped the tape measure open half an inch longer.

I stared at the rigid length of metal tape occupying space between us, thought of that kind of rigid length going somewhere else altogether, and my butt cheeks clenched tight.

He made a soft sound and took the tape measure off me. He retracted it and tucked it back in its pouch. “Don’t worry, Charlie,” he said. “I’m great at this, remember?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the shaft of the claw hammer that was hanging from one of his belt loops.

Telling me not to worry wasn’t going to stop me worrying, but I appreciated him saying it anyway.

“You’re so sweet,” he said happily. He braced his arms either side of the door and leaned in, ducking his head to kiss me.

I kissed him back then disengaged and said, “I am not sweet, goddammit.”

“You are, though.” He hunkered down and flipped his toolbox open.

I stared at his broad back as he rummaged through his tools, somewhat nonplussed that this twenty-four-year-old man was bossing me about, calling me sweet, setting me reeling…and I was letting him do it.

I was enjoying it.

I reached out without thinking and touched his hair. He twisted to look up at me. “Your hair’s damp,” I said.

“Yep. I went home and got a quick shower in. I’m sorry about all that shit back at the gym. The fake-flat-tyre shit. I kind of lost it.” He scratched the side of his nose and looked, for the first time since I’d known him, a bit embarrassed. “Don’t know what happened. I didn’t like seeing Jasper with his hands all over you, I suppose. It sort of flipped my switch. Sorry.”

“Oh. That’s…that’s okay.”

He was jealous?

“I was so jealous,” Kevin said with a laugh, turning back to his toolbox. He pulled out a compartment and hummed before selecting an enormous crowbar with a wide, flat head. “ I want to be the one behind you, Charlie,” he said, and squinted up at me over his shoulder. The light struck his eyes, making the soft brown glow a deep, warm amber. “And on top of you. All over you, really.”

I was busy flailing for a response to this honest statement when a van pulled up with music playing so loudly that I felt the bass throbbing in my chest. The driver tooted the horn, switched the music off, and wound down the passenger side window. “Keviiiiin!”

Kevin looked up and waved. “Door’s here,” he told me.

Kevin and his friend Ali, who was a couple of inches shorter than me, wiry, and startlingly handsome, wrangled the door up the drive and dropped it on my front lawn. They went back to the van and returned with what looked like a frame.

“This him, is it?” Ali said to Kevin, jerking his head at me.

Him? I raised a brow.

Kevin said proudly, “Yep.”

“Good to meet you, Charlie. I’m Ali. Get the kettle on, would you?”

I turned my head a few degrees to better aim my raised brow at Kevin.

“Don’t tell him to put the kettle on,” Kevin said to Ali promptly. He ruined it by adding, “He’s got a proper coffee machine. He does amazing lattes.”

It was hard to be annoyed at being shuffled off to make the manly men drinks when Kevin was beaming with pride as he announced my latte-making skills.

And it was an espresso machine.

“Ali’s going to give me a hand with this,” Kevin said. “Since I’m replacing the frame as well.”

“That’s very kind of him, but I can help,” I protested. “I’m not going to stand here and watch while you do all the work.”

“Cool,” Kevin said, and scratched the back of his neck. “Ali’s a pro, though, and if we do it together, it’ll take about four hours. Five, tops.”

“Five hours ?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“To fit a door?” That Gatorade comment took on a different—and somewhat disappointing—light. Apparently he was going to be working hard for me, and not in the sexy way I’d been imagining.

“It’s the frame that takes the time. Why, how long did you think it would take?”

“Not that long. You put doors on my cabinets in an hour and a half, and there were eight of those.”

“Cabinet doors took you how long?” Ali said with a big grin at Kevin, who shrugged innocently. He turned to me. “Hope you weren’t paying him by the hour.”

“No, I…I didn’t pay him at all.”

I didn’t pay him at all.

Kevin grimaced at Ali. “I could really go for a latte, Charlie,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah, me too,” said Ali, clearly sensing he’d made a misstep. “Mm. Love lattes.”

I’d forgotten to pay Kevin for fixing my cabinets, and I hadn’t even asked how much the hinges he’d picked up had cost.

I was sure they’d cost more than the two lattes I made him. He hadn’t even drunk the first one. It had gone cold while he was kissing me!

I looked, wild-eyed, at the new door lying on my lawn. It was made of solid, thick, beautifully unwarped wood. As was the frame.

It looked expensive.

I’d made all that fuss at the gym earlier about paying Jasper, and somehow skated right over the fact that Kevin had already tossed free labour and cabinet hinges at me, and now not only had he bought me what looked like a very expensive door, he’d roped his friend in for hours of work.

I sucked in a breath.

“Uh-oh,” Ali muttered. “I'm gonna…yep. Gonna go and get something from the van.” He fast-walked out of there.

Kevin straightened and put his hands on his hips. He lifted his chin as if to say, Come on, then. Let’s have it.

“How much is the door?”

“Free,” he said. “It’s free. Ordered one too many on the last job. Been sitting around gathering dust.”

I glared at him. “How much is it?”

I’d let him steamroll me this far. Quite frankly, I’d enjoyed it. Now wasn’t the time to investigate quite how much I’d enjoyed him making his statements about what he wanted, what he was going to do to me, and how all I had to do was go along with it, but it had been great.

Up to now.

“Told you,” he said. “It’s free. It’s a gift.”

“Fine, I’ll look it up.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and leaned around Kevin to read the signage on Ali’s van. I opened a browser window and started typing the business name in the search bar.

Kevin snatched my phone off me, bopped the power button, and slipped it into one of his cargo pockets.

“May I have that back, please?” I said stiffly.

“Fuck, no. You’ll get even more stroppy about it if you find the price.”

“That isn’t the only portal to the internet at my disposal, Kevin,” I said. “I have a laptop and an iPad in the house. Even if you beat me to them, I’ll find out eventually.”

“Yeah, but by then the door will be installed, you’ll love it, and I’ll have shagged the fight right out of you.”

“That’s looking more unlikely than it was a minute ago.”

“No, it’s not,” he said.

I put my hands on my hips. “Yes, it is. What? What ? Why are you smiling at me?”

“You’re doing the sassy barista thing and I love it.”

“What does that even mean, ‘sassy barista thing’?” I growled.

“Trying to scold me and all, with that snooty look on your pretty face. It’s adorable.”

“I am not trying to scold you. I am scolding you.”

Pretty face?

“Uh-huh.” His eyes gleamed.

“Kevin. You can’t buy me a door! And then install it for free! It’s your weekend, Craig already has you running around on-call, you’re doing something for one of your mates this afternoon, and at some point on your day off you should get to do things you want to do.”

He hooked a hand around the back of my neck and tugged me in for a quick kiss. “I am.”

“I refuse to take advantage of you.”

He kissed me again. “You’re not.”

“I can’t afford a door like this.” My face burned when I said it.

“I can.”

“I don’t?—”

“This is so much easier with girls,” he said with a sigh.

It hit me like a shock of cold water right in the face.

“Hah. No, you don’t. Stop squirming,” he said, and held me tighter when I tried to shove him away.

“Go and find a girl, then,” I snapped. “Or as they prefer to be called, a woman .”

“Sorry. Woman.”

Dear god, he was strong. I wasn’t playing about here. I was doing my level best to wrench out of his grip and he wasn’t even phased by it.

He tightened his arms around me, lifted me an inch off my feet, and walked me into the house. He kicked the door shut (mostly) behind him, turned us, and pushed me up against it.

“It’s easier,” he said, pinning me with his body, “because I already know how to make them happy, that’s all. I’ve had practice. I know to buy them flowers, or tell them their hair looks pretty, or take them out to the pub, but you don’t want any of those things.”

“I like roses just fine, actually,” I said.

Wouldn’t mind a compliment on my hair every now and then, either.

“Great. I’ll buy you roses.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He mock-growled and slid his hand up the back of my neck to fist my hair, using it to crank my head to the side so he could suck on my neck.

“Shit.” I clutched at his shoulders as my knees went weak.

He slid a thigh between mine and bit me. He dragged his mouth up the length of my neck to my ear, bit that, along my jaw to the point of my chin and bit that, too, then pulled back to say, “I get a fucking good discount on doors and I’m not paying anywhere near the list price. It’s a door, not a Maserati, so it’s not that expensive in the first place. This is my idea of a good time, and I’m wooing you, Charlie.” Right up to the last part, he was firm and no nonsense. That last part, though, was plaintive.

I flattened my hands on his sides and he flexed into it.

“You don’t have to let me install it for you,” he said. “If you want to keep the one you’ve got then you can, obviously. It’s your house. I’ll tell Ali to take it away. I didn’t think it all through, I s’pose. Got excited about it, thinking I could do something nice for you and you’d like it. You’d like me.”

Oh my god. “I lo—I like you, Kevin. I like you a lot. You don’t have to do things for me. I already like you. You certainly don’t have to buy things for me or woo me or court me or anything.” I’m yours , I managed not to say.

Crap. I was completely his.

I stroked up and down his arms.

“I’ll get you figured out,” he told me. “It’s taking me a while, but I’ll get there. It’s been years since I’ve had new stuff to work out like this. I got girls—women, sorry—got them sorted years ago. I know how to be a gentleman and treat them right. I know what they need and I make sure they get it. You’re something else, Charlie.”

“Called a man.”

“Yeah.” I gasped and pushed my hips into his hand when he tweaked my dick. “This is new, and all.” He stared down as he worked me gently, thoughtfully. “I will say, though, I’m fucking amazing with a cock. I reckon the skill will translate. Reckon I can make you enjoy it.”

Going on the way I was already hard and panting, I’d have to agree.

“I’ll catch up with the rest. Is it that we don’t do the little love gifts and stuff as men?” He was still working me thoughtfully. “Huh. Maybe I should have looked other things up on the internet rather than all the porn. Like, etiquette things.”

“Maybe you should.”

Maybe I should.

“I’ll get on that, then, shall I?” He stopped moving his hand and I made a complaining noise, pushing into him. “Yeah?” he said, low and dark. “Want some more?”

I wanted it all. I opened my mouth to tell him that, but before I could, someone banged on the other side of the door, right by my head.

“Kevin,” Ali shouted. “C’mon, mate. We’re burning daylight here!”

“In a minute!” Kevin bellowed.

Did he have to do that right by my ear? Seriously. He was so loud.

He peeled himself off me, inch by inch. As soon as we were no longer in contact, I scooted out of range. I straightened my t-shirt and cleared my throat.

“We good?” Kevin asked. “You’re not angry about the door anymore?”

“I’m not angry, no. I’m grateful. And quite honestly, I’m a bit overwhelmed. It’s a big gift, Kevin.”

He sighed again. “I told you, I got a great discount.”

“How great?”

He looked shifty. “Like, forty percent off? It’s not that big a gift. Anyway, you need it, Charlie.”

“I know. It’s been at the top of my very long DIY to-do list since I—what?”

His eyes had lit up. “Can I see it?”

“What, my list?”

“Yeah.” He reached for me again, his hands curling naturally around my waist and squeezing gently, absently, as if he’d done it a hundred times already. “Can I have a look?”

“It’s…no, it’s a mental list.”

He drew me against him. “Tell me,” he said, staring at me intensely.

“Uh. All right. There’s the front door, which you already know about. Back door. You’ve done my cabinets. Half the guttering over my sitting room fell off into the flowerbed at the back and I managed to work a little magic with some zip ties—” I broke off to laugh and cup his face at the outraged disapproval. “The patio needs to be relaid and the hedge needed trimming before I even moved in. You’ve seen the kitchen, and the cabinets will tide me over but the oven and the hob have been here since the eighties and are older than I am. I need the wiring checked, I desperately need new carpet in my bedroom—everywhere, really—and I’ve got some infuriating creaky boards going on in the guest room. I need to paint everything and…Kevin, is this turning you on?”

Kevin was breathing heavily. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were heavy-lidded. He nodded. He bumped his hips into mine. “Write it down for me?”

“My list?”

“Yeah.”

I eyed him. “Why do I feel like if I do that, you’re going to wank over it?”

“‘Cause I am. When I’m done wanking over it, though, I’m going to make a plan . Oh my god. I want to do it all so much.”

“You’re not fixing my house.”

He bit his lip and nodded again, eyes wide. “I am,” he said. “I’m gonna fix it so good, Charlie. I’m gonna make it into a palace for you. You should see what I did to my flat.”

“That’s…I…I don’t want a palace?”

“Tough. You’re getting one. It’s going to be so much fun.”

“Kevin,” I said firmly. “You are not fixing my house.”

“Okay,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not.”

“Okay. Maybe when I visit I bring my toolbox, though. And while you’re making me lattes, I do a little something for you.”

He’d been doing that already.

I opened my mouth to tell him no, absolutely not, when Ali banged on the door again.

“Kevin! Mate!”

“Coming!” He hunched his shoulders and whispered, “Sorry,” when he saw my wince. He ducked in for a quick kiss, shuffled me out of the way, and headed out the door.

I turned to go to the kitchen and nearly fell over Phil, who knocked into my thigh with his big head until he found my hand for a quick lick, and beelined after Kevin. He wanted to say hello, and as he’d no doubt heard Ali yelling, he now knew that he had a new friend to make.

I let him go, trusting that Kevin wouldn’t let him near the road even if Phil tried. Zero chance of that when there were people around.

I made Kevin and Ali their lattes, arranged some cookies on a plate, and carried the lot out on a tray.

The old door was already off the hinges and they were chiseling around the frame. A dauntingly large crowbar sat ready. Phil was lying off to the side on my pocket-sized front lawn, watching them work with his head resting on Kevin’s open toolbox, drooling on Kevin’s screwdrivers and spanners.

“Am I safe to come through?” I called.

They stopped what they were doing and Kevin waved me through. He was wearing safety goggles. He should have looked like a prat but apparently I was into workmen now, because even the stupid goggles worked for me. As did the clinging t-shirt, the bulging arms, and the competent, authoritative way he held his tools.

For god’s sake. I was into the way he held his tools ?

I had lost it.

I thrust the tray out and said, “Here.”

“Ta.” He took a cup, handed it to Ali, then took one for himself. He lifted it to his lips and paused when he saw the heart I’d drawn in the foam.

My cheeks heated. “Make sure Phil doesn’t eat any of the cookies. They’ve got chocolate chunks in.”

“Not a problem,” Ali said, taking the plate and turning to sit on the doorstep, propping the plate on his knees.

Wrong move.

I bent down and snatched the plate back off him a second before Phil made it, but it was a close thing.

For a dog with limited eyesight who wanted the world to think his top speed was three miles an hour, he sure could move when he sensed food. Phil flopped onto Ali’s lap like a breaching whale. Ali squawked, and he just about managed to stop from spilling his latte all over his jeans.

Kevin calmly took the plate off me and said, “We’re fine. Phil’s fine. You go and do whatever you were doing before we came.”

I wasn’t in the right headspace to lounge about on the sofa contemplating lubricant, Kevin’s dick, and my arsehole anymore.

I went in and did the accounts instead.