Page 81 of Leather and Longing
Adam laughed. “I know a mouthy little shit who’s got a spanking in his future if he keeps this up.” He got out of bed and crossed the room to open the wardrobe where Paul had placedhis gear. “Now, where did you put that paddle?” He paused, grinning when he caught the hitch in Paul’s breathing.
Damn, he was in a good mood.
Adam closed the door. “This can wait. Although we’re talking a postponement, not a cancellation, you got that?” One of these days he was going to get Paul across his knee for real.
“Thank God for that,” Paul said with a snicker. “Now, do you want me to call a plumber?”
Adam shook his head. “Phone my sister. Dean is the one who deals with stuff like this. Any excuse to get him off his fat arse and do something, the lazy git. It’s probably only a matter of a worn washer that needs changing, or maybe the shower head jets are blocked.”
There was a moment’s silence. “I thought you didn’t like having him here.”
“I don’t. This was Caroline’s idea, to use Dean as a first recourse, and then if he can’t fix something, we get the professionals in. I agreed in the forlorn hope it might actually stir him into doing something.” He huffed. “Well, at least I’m trying.”
“I’ll call her after breakfast then. Speaking of which, I’ll go and put the coffee on.Someone’smessed up my routine this morning.” Adam heard the barely suppressed giggle before Paul exited the room.
He smiled to himself. It had all the signs of being a good day. His agenda was already mapped out. He intended listening to Radio 4 for a while to catch up on world events, a habit he’d practiced religiously before his diagnosis but had let slip away from him in recent months. It was Adam’s way of keeping abreast of the world political situation, looking for inspiration for his books.
Next was to get Paul started on the book. Adam also wanted to spend more time on his laptop, familiarizing himself with the new software and…
He halted in mid-action, reaching into a drawer to pull out a clean T-shirt. What overwhelmed him was the difference in him, in the space of four weeks. He wasn’t the same man who’d sat in the library, berating what had become of his life. He hadn’t thought it possible for things to turn around the way they had, but the proof was stacking up. He had a sex life again. He’d spent the night with a wonderful younger man in his arms, who’d taken it upon himself to wake Adam up with a blowjob. Said man was going to work on his next book. Adam was contemplating writing again. The house no longer felt like a cage.
He was getting his life back.
Adam was under no illusions. He knew the catalyst for all this change was Paul. The more time he spent with him, the more Adam learned about what made Paul tick, and the more he liked what he discovered. Outside of the bedroom Paul was a thoughtful, considerate, generous man with a good sense of humour and good instincts. Moreover, he had balls. He didn’t take whatever Adam slung at him, but stood his ground, returning Adam’s slingshots in kind. He could’ve slung his hook that first day, walked away like the others had, but instead he’d persevered, though Heaven knew why.
Adam liked that.
In bed Paul was responsive, intuitive and eager, unafraid to push his boundaries. His sexual appetite showed every sign of being as rampant as Adam’s. Fuck, he wastwenty-five, with the capacity to come several times a day, and he sucked cock like a dream.
Adamlovedthat. He only hoped Paul was getting as much out of the situation as he was.
It was as he pulled the T-shirt over his head that a cynical thought crossed his mind.
Of course Paul’s getting a lot out of this. Think about it. He’s living in a beautiful house above Steephill Cove, when he could still be living in Binstead.Adam was well acquainted with the island—he’d grown up there, after all—and he knew what Binstead was like: mostly council housing, impoverished in places—in other words, nothing remotely like Steephill.
Adam pushed the thought aside. He knew that wasn’t Paul’s motive for applying for the job.
Where did that come from?
He smoothed down his hair with his hand. It still took some getting used to, after having his long hair for so many months. He preferred it short and neat.
Not that he was about to tell Paul that.
Adam stepped into his jeans and pulled them over his hips, his mind distracted by the previous moment of cynicism.
That isn’t like me.
Adam was not a cynical man by nature. He associated such a trait with a whole slew of negative emotions, none of which had been prevalent in his life before diagnosis. But in the months that followed losing his vision, he’d often found himself ensnared in a vicious circle of frustration, scepticism, anxiety and doubt. Each day had been worse than the one before. It was as if he was descending a spiral staircase into depression, and with each step the darkness increased around him until he arrived at the bottom. Inky blackness surrounded him. Nowhere else to go but up. Yet above him was all the shit, pain and anguish he’d passed through on the way down. He couldn’t go through all that again.
So why am I thinking this way?
It was a moment of discordance in an otherwise positive morning. Such cynicism was beneath him. Why would he doubtPaul’s motives, after everything the young man had done for him?
Because it all feels too good to be true?
That brought him up short.
Paul isn’t like the others. He’s nothing like that lazy shit, Dean. Paul works hard.
