Extra 3

'Please tell me the reason that you are half dressed is that this stupid fucking thing is cancelled.'

I was of the opinion that Bryn seemed rather too familiar with the process of shoving someone backward through their own door and kicking it shut whilst simultaneously pressing said person against the nearest wall to kiss the ever-breathing hell out of them.

It wasn't that I was complaining, so much as – 'Nnng, you're just early.'

Bryn gave no indication of having paid any attention to what I'd said. His legs were spaced between mine and he was rolling his hips in time with his hungry assault on my lips. His hands were taking full advantage of the fact that I was half-way through ironing my shirt. A job that was becoming less and less likely to be finished as Bryn dropped his mouth from mine, nipping at the edge of my jaw before switching his attention to the soft flesh of my neck.

There were only two things worse than an unironed shirt: a half ironed shirt, and a neck full of hickies – even if he was gentle, which he wasn't being, they would be there for hours.

I wedged my hands against Bryn's shoulders, arching my hips into his, his hum of appreciation vibrated at my neck. Then I stepped forward, taking his balance with me. He grunted as the breath was knocked out of him by the opposite wall of my narrow hallway. Something like that was hardly even a minor inconvenience to Bryn. In fact– It was my turn to groan as I caught his gaze in mine. Where his eyes had just contained regular lust after 5 days apart, now they were tainted with something much deeper. His lips were parted, and he stared back at me, waiting...

'Bloody hell,' I whispered and leant in to kiss my way between his already flushed lips.

I held his jaw as I drew away, keeping him from following me.

'You have to wait.'

He stared at me and I watched as he processed the order, trying to work out what to do with it.

'If you're good, we'll fuck later. If not...' I hitched a shoulder and let a slow smile spread over my face.

He blinked at me for a long moment, then gave a small sigh and straightened up.

'You're a bastard.'

'I believe that's actually one of the things you like about me, no?'

He pursed his lips and urged me back with a hand against my collar bone.

'Can you at least put a shirt on,' he said.

'You're too weak to resist the sight of my naked flesh?'

He gave me a droll look, collected the holdall he'd abandoned at the door, and helped himself down the hallway and through to my living room and kitchen. 'Do you have coffee?'

'Above the kettle. You don't want a beer?'

Bryn gave me a look over his shoulder that was more sobering than iced coffee and a cold shower.

I left him to it and went to finish my ironing. I knew that Bryn was overreacting, Bryn probably knew it too. However I also knew Bryn a little better now, and when his decisions didn't make sense it was usually a meticulously hidden coping mechanism.

The night had been planned for months, and was everything Bryn didn't like about this town. I couldn't not go. Partly because it was work, and partly because of my own pride. This was one of the first big events since my I'd come out –not that it should have been a big deal, but in this place it was, and if I didn't show my face people would think I was hiding. I didn't want to hide anymore.

When I'd mentioned it to Bryn last Sunday, I'd suggested he spend the evening at his parents, or come up on Saturday morning. He'd been quiet, staring at something I didn't see for maybe half a minute. Then he'd looked at me, cocked a wry grin and told me not to be so fucking stupid. In that moment I had known that Bryn knew, and that even though he was a long way beyond proving anything to these people, he was coming. He was coming for me.

So I kissed his espresso tasting lips when I came back downstairs, and let him mess with the collar of my shirt until it was lying how he wanted it to.

'I still say that would look better on the floor,' he said as he drew his hands away.

'And now I'm going to fuck you with it on.'

He stared at me for a loaded minute, then chuckled. 'Let's get this fucking peacock parade over with then.'

IT WAS THE first event since the New Year and we wanted to give everyone a reason to start spending their money again. Bryn wasn't far off with his description of the event. It was hideously pretentious, but that was what the people round here wanted so that was what we put on.

Bryn and I arrived early because I had a few things to go over, but already the champagne was chilling and ready to flow, and lets just say it was the start of February, so you can imagine the theme. I had drawn the line at red and pink, we'd gone down a carbon theme – the paper and graphite type not the diamond type – and the art in the new exhibition was all in-keeping.

As we walked into the main exhibition room Bryn made a noise that could have been pleasantly surprised or appalled. Before I could ask which, I was intercepted by a highly caffeinated catering manager. Bryn slid from my side as I was asked in utter seriousness whether I had a preference for how the cream was piped on the mini scones. I forced a patient smile and got in character for the evening.

I had organised plenty of events over the years, but no matter how many I did and what happened, there always seemed to be something new to go wrong. The glass company had sent flutes instead of the now much more fashionable bowls, one of the waitresses was sick – actually that had happened before – one section of lights kept fusing and we were running out of spares, someone had managed to change the front desk's tablet to Hebrew so no one could read the guest list, there was a home match at the local rugby club so every car park in a 5 mile radius was full. As you can imagine, it was some time before I had more than 10 seconds in which to do more than simply breathe.

The advantage that these sorts of things have is that the longer they go on the less people care. Give people enough champagne – or Prosseco/Cava/whatever is in vogue at the moment – and they will find a way to enjoy themselves. And even more importantly, to spend their hard earned money.

I had a few pointed looks, a few more unnecessarily probing questions, and several sightings of Bryn chatting to unsuspecting guests. I wasn't as surprised as I thought I would be to see him effortlessly chatting art with only the barest hint of a smirk at his temples. For all he was an outcast, he'd grown up with this just like I had, and for all his claims of purism in construction, I knew he could talk architecture with the best of them.

I caught him in one of my brief moments between small talk and the next catastrophe. I slid a hand into the small of his back, enjoying the warmth.

'Wishing you'd stayed home yet?'

He glanced at me, just turning his head, his gaze rounded. 'That depends entirely on later.'

Right then I was just about happy to sod later. I was seriously considering the best route to my office. However it was Bryn who stepped out of my touch, turning with a smile that I was almost certain was genuine.

'Mrs Blythman, you're looking gorgeous. How are you? You know there is this great picture tucked away over here, probably because it will make half the people round here have to take an extra beatablocker, but I know you'll love it.'

Harriet Blythman had been a customer of the gallery for a long time, and if Bryn was talking about the drawing I thought he was talking about, then I'm fairly certain I never would have shown it to her. He gave me a grin over her sequinned shoulder as they disappeared round one of the partitions. I side stepped to get a better view just in case. However Mrs Blythman had thrown her head back in laughter. Her hand rested on Bryn's arm as she caught her breath and leaned in for a better look.

'My my, isn't that fabulous,' I heard her say before I was intercepted by someone else. I made a mental note to ask Bryn how he knew her.

I managed to catch a handful of conversation with Bryn twice more. I'm not sure who was more frustrated by the passing touches and thinly veiled innuendo. Then my evening of problem solving became a whole lot more personal.

The invitations had been sent out a while ago, and there were people who had said yes – family and friends – who I had known wouldn't come thanks to my "revelation." Ashford was one of those people. Except, as I excused myself from a group of clients and turned around, there he was. And suddenly I was very glad that I'd only managed to have one glass of wine.

I turned, looking for Bryn, knowing that I had to warn him. Half for his safety, and half for the sake of my event. But he'd disappeared into a sea of matching jackets and dark hair.

'Ah. Mr Nortel, I'm so glad I caught you, I've been dying to ask you about...' I pulled my face into an approximation of calm, my body on autopilot as I shook David Hemslow's hand and nodded amiably as he led me over to where his wife was lingering in front of the exhibition's centre piece. I'd been to their house before for some event or other, and I knew their taste was expensive and impeccable. Having them on our client list would make for an incredible evening. As would the Kirk-Fourlow brothers not having a brawl in the middle of my gallery.

I tried to concentrate, whilst silently praying for my phone to ring so that I'd have an excuse to go and speak to security. My phone didn't ring, but my praying must have reached something because I was heading to my office for much more work orientated activities than I'd had in mind for it this evening. Selling art is a tricky business, especially in the current economy, and my usual sense of elation (doubled because that was a bloody expensive drawing) was twisted with a very specific kind of apprehension as I led the smiling Hemslow's back to the main gallery. I saw them to their taxi with one of the buyers' goodie-bags and an extra bottle of fizz.

When I turned around neither Kirk-Fourlow brother was visible, which didn't make me feel any better. Things were starting to wind down now, and I was able to just smile at people as I headed back toward my office. I jammed my phone against my ear. I wanted to swear when it took an age to connect, and it felt as though someone was pulling my stomach out through my throat when Bryn didn't pick up.

'Pick up, you deaf bastard,' I muttered beneath my teeth as I went for the redial.

'That's not very fucking nice now, is it.'

As I turned, I realised that my concern had been very much misplaced.

Ash was the calculated hipster cool to Bryn's I don't give a fuck elegance. He was the version of alternative that you buy from the high street, in his case the very expensive end of the high street, which just meant that the people he looked the same as were rich. His pale brown hair was done back in a quiff. He was too lazy to go to the gym, so the broad frame he shared with Bryn lacked any definition other than size. From experience, I knew he could still throw a perfectly painful punch.

'Ash.' I dropped my phone back into my pocket. 'What are you doing here.'

'I was invited.'

I gave him a tight smile. 'I more meant what are you doing cornering me alone in a corridor at the back of an event I'm hosting.'

He gave me a snarl masquerading as a smile.

'What? I can't come and say hi to my oldest friend?'

'You could have come and said hi to me any time you wanted in the last month. I'm kind of busy right now.' The thing was, Ash probably was my oldest friend, and I'm sure everyone has that one friend who still acts the same as when they were teenagers, and it was never really a problem before because the shit he pulled was on other people.

Now I met Ash's gaze and realised that this was what Karma looked like.

'Looking for my brother?'

'What are we? 16 again? For fuck's sake Ash,' I tried to brush by him and get back to the party, but his hand closed around my upper arm.

'Don't you "for fuck's sake" me, Nortel. You're the lying mother fucker here.'

Ash is a reasonable architect, he's an okay sportsman and has had a few hobbies over the years that he has been passably average at. But if there's one thing that he's been good at his whole life, its beating people up without getting caught. He has seriously missed out on a successful life in the underworld.

I tried to tug his hand from me, but that just gave him an excuse. I winced, teeth bared as I breathed through the pain of being slammed against the wall. It occurred to me, kind of inappropriately, that Bryn was a stranger guy than I'd realised because being put in an arm lock and slammed face first against a wall is really not pleasant. Unfortunately, Ash chose that moment to hiss something threatening in my ear, and I laughed, because the parallels with last weekend were just too much. Unsurprisingly, that earned me a punch to the kidneys.

I was dazed enough that he flipped me over without much bother. He propped an arm against my throat – a tried and tested technic for silencing someone, plus it causes extra pain while freeing up one arm and allows the extra body movement needed to get in a good punch to the nicely unprotected organs of the stomach. I gritted my teeth, for all the difference it made.

'What the ever living fuck. Seriously Ashford?'

The second punch was interrupted by a very angry looking Bryn.

The expression on Bryn's face at that moment was probably why I was so confused over his irrational fear when I turned up at his house with a black eye and a bloody lip. Because Bryn was the same height and natural build as Ash, but other than that their bodies shared about as many common factors as their personalities – not much more than a basic intolerance for shit they don't like. And right then, Bryn looked about as scared of his brother as a fox is of a cornered rabbit.

Bryn grabbed Ash by the shoulder and threw him against the opposite wall with about as much effort as said fox and rabbit. My telling Ash not to beat up his brother might have had something to do with him stopping all those years ago, but actually I think it had just as much to do with the fact that Bryn started winning more fights than he lost. Bryn slammed a hand against Ash's throat – proving that he'd picked up things from his big brother despite Ash's best efforts – then punched his other hand against Ash's stomach hard enough to make Ash fold in half against the wall.

Bryn shook his hand out, and turned to me with a faint grimace.

'You okay?'

I laughed, even though it hurt, and he rolled his eyes at me before turning back to Ash, who was still struggling to catch his breath.

'I was promised a fuck later, and if you've fucked it up I'm going to castrate you the next time I see you.'

Ash spat at Bryn's feet, glaring up at him with the kind of hatred that you really didn't expect to see outside of a Hollywood movie.

'Oh get a fucking grip, Ashford. He's been your best friend your whole fucking life. Has he raped you? Has he turned you gay? Forced you to wear rainbow socks or do whatever it is you think gay men do that is so terrifying?'

Ash was upright again now, still glaring at his brother. I wondered if I could get around them somehow and alert security, then I realised that I undoubtedly looked a state and probably shouldn't go back out before I'd at least checked to see if I had blood on my face. Which left me stuck in a corridor with my boyfriend and my one time best friend, who would probably still hate each other even if they were forced through years of therapy.

I pushed between them with one hand on Bryn's chest, facing Ashford in probably the stupidest idea of my life.

'Just go home Ash.' He flinched forward and I'd be lying if I said I didn't wince, but my feet stayed put. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was gay. But can you blame me after what you did to Bryn.' I shook my head. 'What we did to Bryn.'

Ash's gaze flicked behind me, and I wanted to turn and see Bryn's expression, but there was only so much danger I was willing to put myself in.

He sneered suddenly. 'He's only doing this to get back at me.'

It took me a second to work out what he was talking about.

Behind me Bryn snorted. 'Yeah Shyann, did I forget to mention the magical mind altering powers of gays?'

I just shook my head. 'Ash, get a grip. I'm gay. I've liked guys since I was 16, it's not a phase. It's like Bryn said: I'm exactly the same person you've been friends with your whole life. Why does it make a difference who I take to bed.'

Ash paled, his eyes widening as he searched for a response to that.

'Unless you're jealous,' Bryn added under his breath and still perfectly audible in the narrow hall. I shoved Ash back with a hand against his chest, turning to glare at Bryn.

'Not helping,' I growled.

Bryn huffed a breath through his nose and turned his face away.

'My god, the pair of you are like 12 year olds. Get a bloody grip.'

I was thoroughly fed up and in need of ibuprofen, so my departure was probably a little more dramatic than I would have liked. I slammed my office door – very unsatisfying thanks to the fire safety mechanisms – and leant back against the wooden veneer. Leaving them alone was probably not one of my better plans, but it had been a long day, I'd been beaten up and to be honest I'd had enough problem solving for one night.

A few minutes later there was a nock at the door. I was only partially relieved to see that it was Bryn. I stood to one side so that he could come in.

'He's gone.' He looked me over and then let out a sigh. 'Are you really okay?'

'I'm fine.' I'd ache for a couple of days but I was probably no worse for wear than Bryn had been after last weekend.

He sighed again, his eyes drifting over the art hanging from the walls before settling back on my face. 'I'm sorry.' He shook his head, eyes dropping from mine for a second in a way I wasn't used to unless we were playing. 'He drives me a bit crazy.'

I stepped forward, closing the awkward gap between us and pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my back, and we were quiet for a long time.

'You know, I think sometimes, that he doesn't even hate gay men, he just hates me, and that it was just a good excuse.' Bryn's words slid against my ear on a hurried breath. 'If you want to be friends with him... I mean, if he'll even talk to you. I'm not going to make a big deal out of it.'

I turned my face so I could press a kiss against his cheek.

'We'll see,' I said just as softly. 'Just because something has been one way for a while, it doesn't mean that's the right way for it to be.'

'Is that a quote?'

'I don't know. It sounds good though, right?' I pushed him to arm's length, smiling even though it kind of hurt my throat. 'I feel like if no one has sought me out over the last half hour, then I'm probably not needed here anymore.'

'Are you allowed to ditch your own party?'

'My dad's still here somewhere, and I haven't looked in a mirror but I'm thinking its a safe bet that he'd rather me leave.'

'The bad boy look is kind of appealing actually,' Bryn said as he leaned back in.

I enjoyed the shape of his lips against mine, allowing the kiss to banish the dregs of fear and adrenaline that had left a bad taste in my mouth. I smiled as he pulled away.

'And I believe I owe you at least two punishments for bad behaviour.'

Bryn raised an eyebrow at me. 'Are you sure you're okay?'

I pressed a hand against his chest, stepping through and urging him back until his spine hit the door. I smiled at him, slow and benign. 'Are you suggesting that I can't take what I dish out?'

He was blinking slowly at me, his bottom lip disappeared for a moment and came back wet as memories danced through his dark eyes. He shook his head.

'Then perhaps you are suggesting that I'm too injured? Your concern is sweet, and I'll take it on board.' I leant in to whisper against his ear. 'I'll make you pay for it.'

He shuddered against the door.

I stepped back, and cupped his cheek. 'I think I'll drive home.'

THE JOURNEY BACK to my place reminded me of New Year's Eve. And yet it also felt very different. I stopped with my key in the door, remembering the thoughts that had gone through my head that evening. I turned and hooked a hand around the back of Bryn's neck, pulling him closer for a kiss in the cold. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was proving it to myself as much as to anyone else.

Bryn just grinned at me when I broke the kiss. He didn't say anything as I turned back to finish the job of opening the door. Maybe he knew too. Inside my house was the same as always: pictures, images and paintings were stacked on most surfaces. A few were taking their turn on the wall. They imparted a unique smell on my house, of paint and oil and dust that wouldn't ever completely go away. But there was also the lingering smell of Bryn's aftershave in the living room. I could see his espresso cup on the side in the kitchen, he tossed his jacket over the back of the sofa – and by extension also over several unframed paintings.

I chuckled and hooked my palm beneath his chin to pull him in for another kiss. This one was slow and lazy. Because it could be. Because I knew he wasn't going to run off in the middle of the night, and because of all the little things he'd said that told me that this wasn't just about the sex. I'd said that stuff to Bryn earlier, about it not having to be right just because it was the way things had been, and I really believed it. And because I was content and tired and feeling magnanimous, and because he was my oldest friend, I really hoped Ash found someone who could help him to understand that too.

'You want to just grab a beer and go to bed?' Bryn asked.

I smiled against his lips.

'Nice try.' I pushed him away gently, hands braced on his shoulders. 'Go upstairs, strip, and lay face up on the bed.'

He blinked at me a second, and I watched as about three responses rose and fell just behind his lips. In the end he just nodded and headed for the stairs. I gave him ten minutes before finally following him up.

I paused in the doorway to admire the sight. His dick was swollen between his legs, not fully erect but definitely paying attention. He turned his head to look at me, the gesture pulled muscles tight down one side of his body and I smiled in approval.

I stepped into the room, crossing to the bed to run a palm over one well muscled thigh. Soft brown hairs shifted between our skin. He shuddered as I dragged that hand down his leg, but he didn't flinch as I grabbed hi ankle. He watched me down the length of himself and I chuckled as I crouched to fish something from under the end of the bed. Bryn's eyes widened at the cool touch of metal and the snap of a lock.

'I wasn't expecting to use these tonight.' I locked his other ankle to the end of the bed and ambled to the head board, the final pair of cuffs in one hand. His gaze was fixed on mine. I hooked a finger and the hands he'd been holding over his head were both offered to me.

It was hot as hell.

I snapped the metal round one wrist, then guided his hands back over his head, threaded the short chain round the headboard and closed the other end around his free wrist.

While I was leant that way I lingered to drop a kiss against his lips. This one was a whole lot more filthy than the one downstairs. Bryn arched off the bed after me when I pulled away.

'You look good like that. Now, about these punishments I owe you.'

It wasn't much of a punishment by his normal standards. But Bryn watched, his eyes flicking between my face and my groin as I explored myself in front of him. One hand on my swollen cock, my back arched so I could stretch myself. The angle was always awkward by yourself, and I groaned in frustration as I tried to get the friction I needed. From the bed Bryn begged me to let him help, his cuffs clanking as he tried to twist away from them.

Breathless I stopped. I paused on the edge of the bed, catching myself before I climbed up his body, careful to avoid the straining flesh of his erection. I sat on his chest, my knees pressing down on his arms.

'How exactly do you think you're going to help in that position?'

He was already leaning forward, the muscles in his neck straining as he tried to reach for me. His bottom lip between his teeth. He glanced up.

'Please. Let me make you come.'

I was hard to deny the breathless tone to his words, or the way his body twitched beneath me. I shifted forward, parting my knees either side of his shoulders and bracing myself on the headboard. Bryn moaned around me as he reached for my cock, wrapping his lips around my erection and sucking me down deep, following me back until his head hit the pillow. I let him lick and suck for an agonisingly beautiful moment, and then I drew back and pressed down, beginning to fuck his mouth in earnest. And Bryn groaned, his chains rattling as he forced ragged breaths through his nose.

I plunged into him, and could feel my release dancing beneath my skin. Sweet and thick and intoxicating. I stopped balls deep in his throat and Bryn swallowed around me, trying to drag me the last painful inch. I drew out, dripping spit and pre-cum across his chin and down his neck. He was breathing as heavily as me, his eyes darted from my cock to my face. He licked his lips, catching a string of fluid against his tongue. The urge to wrap my hand around myself and cum across his face was as strong one. But I sat back on my heels.

'I'm sorry. I promise I won't do it again. Please let me help, I want to help.'

His voice rasped now. I smiled down at him, and his eyes went wide as I shuffled back.

'Unfortunately I don't believe a word of that. However the angle is making my stomach ache.' I reached back and dragged a hand down his seeping cock. Bryn gasped, his hips jerking away from the sudden contact. I edged back, rising up on my knees so that I was straddling is hips.

'Oh god,' I saw the words on his lips rather than heard them. He squeezed his eyes shut, then changed his mind as his cock head eased inside me. His mouth was open, his gaze fixed firmly on my face, absorbing every inch of my expression as I eased myself over him. I braced a hand on his chest, gasping as his head slid by the tight ring of my entrance, and then I was staring at the ceiling, my head thrown back as I eased the last blissful centimetres until I was sitting on his hips.

I rolled my pelvis in small circles, getting used to the intrusion, and we groaned in unison.

'My god, Shyann...' The cuffs clattered at his wrists as he tugged at them. I leant forward, groaning breathlessly at the change in pressure as I bent to take a kiss from his lips.

'Now you can make me come.'

Bryn nipped at my lips, his hips jerking up into mine.

'My wrists.'

'Stay where they are.' I sat upright, eyes flickering shut at the shift of him inside me.

'Fuck.' Then Bryn arched his back, rolling his hips up into me and it was my turn to curse.

I braced my hands against his thighs and rode him until my body ached and my pleasure burnt the breath from my lungs. My orgasm broke deep beneath my hips, shooting out in thick cords that laced with the sweat that ran from my chest. Beneath me Bryn moaned, his body glistening, his head thrown back and his eyes wide as he watched me come. And when I nodded down at him he groaned, thrusting up into me in quick jagged strokes until I felt him falter and swell and the heat of him pulsed deep inside me.

When both our breathing had evened out I cleaned us up and unlocked Bryn's wrists, pulling him against my side so we could snooze, contented and comfortable.

'I did mention that tomorrow night you have to meet my friends, right?' Bryn broke the silence, his voice soft and a smile on his lips.

'I didn't know you had any friends?'

I cocked an eyelid and peered at him in mock innocence for half a second before I grinned.

'I have met Kyle before you know,' I added.

'Beating him up in the park doesn't count,' he muttered through a yawn.

'You seemed to know plenty of people tonight.'

'Course I do, doesn't mean I actually like any of them.'

'Even Mrs Blythamn?'

He opened his eyes and peered at me. 'You sound jealous?'

'Of an old lady?'

'I am pan you know.'

I just stared at him until his face cracked into a grin.

'Mrs Blythman started the local LGBT group. Did you know her daughter's a lesbian?'

I didn't know that and I chuckled.

But he wasn't done, 'her husband died quite a few years ago, but she's recently decided- slash-admitted that she is bisexual. Much to the horror of some of her friends, and son, she has been on several dates with women.'

I stared at him for a whole different reason. 'Mrs Blythman?'

He stretched up to kiss me. 'So you know, it's never too late to try something new.'

'Mrs Harriet Blythman?' I echoed, still trying to get my head around the idea. Bryn just laughed and kissed me again.

'You're such an idiot,' he whispered as he lay his head back against my shoulder and shut his eyes.

'A matched pair.' I pulled Bryn a little bit closer. There was still a stupid grin on my lips when I woke up in the morning.

---

A/N: That's it guys. I hope that you have enjoyed these little extra bits. Soz if the sex scenes weren't up to scratch – if I don't have that specific kink stuck in my head then smut is really difficult for me to write. The joys of being gray-asexual and a romance writer – face meet palm.

This is me done for a while now. I'm currently focusing on writing the sequel to After (which I won't be posting here for obvious reasons), and also on a sci-fi assassin story which I'm probably going to send straight to publishers. If anyone of the regulars want a shot at beta reading my new stuff then just shoot me a PM and we can discuss it.

Hopefully for you guys I'll get a new kink stuck in my head soon. You can mither me on tumblr (and see pictures from my awesome job in Norway) by searching for ht-pantu. See you soon.

X Pantu.