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Small sounds came from his mouth. I kissed them away, took them from him as I repositioned myself so I could hold his head in my hands. My elbows were screaming from the weight of holding myself up so I didn’t crush him beneath me, his leg still over my shoulder.

What was this? I had no idea, but whatever it was…

It was us. Pure and simple.

“This,” he huffed out, his lips against my skin. “Is…good.”

“Good.” I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

“I like…what we do.” A small moan in the middle as I slid further inside him, him seemingly swallowing me up.

It was overwhelming. I was in a different place, my thoughts all muddled as the clouds swirled around in my head.

Him. Me. Feelings. The way my hips seemed to move by themselves, a small slide out, and back in again .

I didn’t remember this. Couldn’t for the life of me put myself back in my memories of ever having felt like this, yet it was as simple as breathing. Natural and easy.

So connected. So part of someone else.

“More,” he huffed out. “Just do it, Stewart…”

“Love you,” I said into his neck. “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.” There was a smile in his words, and they did mean something.

They meant everything. Maybe he didn’t tell me all the time.

Maybe it wasn’t who we were, but I felt it.

I felt his fingernails on my back. How his hands travelled down and tried to make my hips move.

How he held me in place as I slammed into him, now up on my arms, trying to find the rhythm my body craved. My mouth hanging slack as I just…

I did this. I…fucked him. Words I never liked using were now seemingly a perfectly acceptable part of my vocabulary.

I fucked right into him, revelling in the sounds and smells as my arousal slowly rose through my body.

My cheeks flamed, my chest was far too warm, and his hands were seemingly everywhere.

A pinch of my nipple. A tug on my chest hair.

His mouth spilling words that I again failed to take in.

I was just…fucking. In and out. My body doing this all by itself, like I was only along for the ride.

It was him and me, and I no longer knew where I was .

A complete haze of pleasure, an orgasm creeping up on me that was neither surprising nor violent. Just slow and almost painful as I emptied myself inside of him, vocalised my joy as my body released, roars and breaths that I spilled over him, lying there beneath me.

A loud moan as he tried to readjust his leg.

“I think you’ve broken my hip.” He laughed. “Won’t be able to walk in for that meeting with Gun Larsen tomorrow. Do you think they have a wheelchair I can borrow?”

“I’ll carry you.” I smiled, shifting my weight from him. My dick slipped out of him.

I hated that feeling. I wanted to stay inside of him, hold on to this closeness forever.

I’d never had it, and now that I did, it was addictive. Like a drug. I’d smothered all of this with alcohol for years, a yearning that I couldn’t figure out how to release.

This.

“I… I can’t even describe what we just did.”

“We had sex, Stewart.”

“Stewart,” I muttered. “Never liked it. Old-fashioned and weird. ”

“Don’t say that. I named my children awful names. Veronica loved them. I wanted Constance to be called Chloe. Never got my choice, not even as a second name.”

“What is her second name?”

Here we were, flipping between subjects as far apart as the sun and the moon.

“Gertrude. After Veronica’s grandmother.”

Ouch. I just smiled.

“Sorry. We just had sex, and here I am talking about my ex-wife again.”

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not. It’s rude and uncalled for.”

“Dylan, did you… Was that satisfactory?” I asked, like I was after a rating. A short review of my performance.

What was I like?

“It was lovely. More than so. It was something I wanted us to be able to do, and I have been thinking about it, and worrying about it, and then in the end? I quite enjoyed that.”

“But you didn’t…”

“Cover you in spunk?” He laughed.

God, I was old. And he was wonderful.

“Look. It doesn’t matter, does it? It was lovely, and my head is in a mess, but to be very, very honest, if you had lasted a little bit longer, I think I might have. I was hard, and you were doing a mighty fine job of nudging that prostate just right. I read up on it. It was good. Really good.”

“I’m old,” I said in my defence. “And you’re gorgeous, and I just couldn’t—”

“You came. Do you know what a confidence boost that is? That we had sex and just me being here with you made you come? That is…mind-blowing.”

“So we had mind-blowing sex?”

“You’ve read too many romance novels.”

“Not read a single one actually. I’m reading a book on modern finance.”

“Stewart.”

“Dylan.”

“I’m reading Janusz Sadowski’s land grab contract to repossess a partial greenbelt dwelling and build offices on something that I have a sneaky suspicion is a tax avoidance scheme.”

“Wow. Thrilling.”

“Basic. He thinks he can get away with it. He can’t. But there are ways.” He tapped his nose.

“You’re wasted being a lawyer. Too smart.” I tapped his nose too.

“Sweet talker. Not that smart. Also, I could never work in court. I’d wet myself as soon as someone shouted at me. Some of these people take intimidation to the next step. I’d be scarred for life.”

“I can imagine,” I said, snuggling up to him, condom between my fingertips. I wondered if it was bad form to just drop it and pretend it was nothing.

“Leave it on the floor,” he said. “I’ll mop tomorrow.”

“You’re off for a meeting at eight. I’ll mop tomorrow.”

“So domestic.”

“Would make an excellent office cleaner.”

He kissed me.

“Would you…apply for a proper job? Full time? ”

Good question.

“I applied for hundreds of jobs. Every day, for months, I found something and put an application in. My name is with every recruitment consultant. Yet here I am.”

“Shocking.”

“Not really. I don’t have any qualifications.

No degrees. Nothing to show for my entire career.

I was a doorman. That I also am quite good at maths, taught myself how to do self-assessments and read up on tax laws, and am really good at spreadsheets?

Those kinds of skills are of no importance.

I raised my son and got myself cleaned up, and I naively thought…

that this was my life. I think I’ve lost my confidence now.

I’m happy with the driving. I look after the grandchildren.

I support my son. He’s happy too, being with Gray, studying, and trying to regain all the qualifications he could have had.

I’m very proud of him. And apparently, he’s really good at maths as well.

He just needs the confidence and stamina to sit through an entire exam without freaking out. ”

“Good,” he said. “I’m really proud of you. Sometimes it’s hard to realise that we’ve got limitations. And to settle with the fact that…life doesn’t always go our way.”

“True.” I lay back, his hand in mine. Both of us naked under the cool duvet .

I liked this. So much. Just the two of us lying here talking about normal things.

“I understand what you did. When you gave up your business to care for your children. I would have done exactly the same. I don’t think it’s something a lot of men would dare to do. Just give yourself to your family like that.”

“No. It’s seen as weak. Women’s work. All that crap. I loved it. I loved spending time with them.”

“I get that.”

“I would again, if I could. But I need to work.”

“I do too. Just pay my way.”

“Stewart, I’m not rich. I may live in this house, but my child support payments are in arrears, and when the bills go out in two weeks, I will be left with less than ten thousand pounds in my account.

That’s it. I’ve sold my bonds, my stocks and shares.

I sold off my watches and my mother’s gold jewellery.

I have given Veronica every single asset I have, except this house.

I won’t be able to pay the bills to live here, come November. ”

“Oh. ”

I hadn’t realised how bad it was. I didn’t know what I had thought.

“And I need to speak to Gun Larsen about that tomorrow. I will have the kids here, but if I don’t sell the house and move somewhere smaller, I won’t be able to feed them.”

“Debts?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“I bought out Veronica. The mortgage is paid off. I used to make good money.”

“Credit cards?”

“I’m not stupid. None. My credit is…well.

Intact. I try, Stewart. I try to keep everything straight.

Not have a single thing that Veronica can pick at.

It’s bad enough being who I am. Once she starts saying I am irresponsible with my finances, I’ll have nothing left.

I’m not delusional. I can’t pay Jean. I can’t pay for the coffees she brings.

I just pay for the groceries and my phone bill and my medication and… child support.”

“Electricity? Water?”

“Has been minimal since I don’t heat the house. The council tax is crippling, though. That’s due again in March. ”

I liked that he talked about this, brutal as it was, because I needed to know. To understand.

“So I need to get a job.”

“No. You need to be the guy who comes and sleeps in my bed at night. The rest? That is on me. I need to work harder and do this. People do this every day. They work full time and look after their kids, and I need to get it all sorted out. I don’t want Phinneas to go to preschool, not for the first week or two.

He needs to bond with me again, and then figure out how we learn to—”

I kissed him.

“Stop,” I said. “Stop thinking so hard. One day at a time. First, you’ve got a meeting tomorrow. You tell Gun Larsen all of this. She will have thought of something, and we take it from there. Secondly, we get the kids here first. Then, and only then, do we figure things out.”

“We,” he said flatly.

“We.” I sounded stern, but I meant it. “I will have your back. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You will need time with the kids, and I will give you space. But anytime you need a hug, I will be right here. ”

“And if I need sex?”

He made me laugh. Funny how I loved that.

“That will be available too. I will have to go do some more research.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“I think so too. But for now?”

“What?”

“Go to sleep, Dyl. I love you.”

He rolled into my arms, reached out and turned off the light.

“Thank you,” he whispered again. “Thank you for being…so bloody brilliant.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Truth. One that made me snort. Brilliant? Probably not. Smitten? One hundred per cent yes.

“I think I’m so in love with you that I have no idea how to cope on my own anymore.”

Wow.

“You don’t have to cope on your own. Neither do I. So there you have it, Mr Scotland.”

“Mr Scotland.” Another snort.

“Go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”