Jack was lounging on Dean’s bed when the door swung open to reveal the stud fresh from the gym in a tight white T-shirt and grey shorts that left almost nothing to the imagination.
“Home from one workout and straight into another, yeah?” Dean asked suggestively, flopping onto the bed and pulling Jack in for a kiss.
He was slightly sweaty and his hair was all over the place but, as Jack gazed into Dean’s piercing blue eyes, his stomach lurched at just how good looking he was.
Play fighting back as Dean laced kisses up and down his neck, Jack moaned. “I want to do something.”
Dean pulled back with a confused look on his face. Gesturing the hunk, Jack said: “This is all well and good. But I want to go out.”
They’d been holed up in Dean’s apartment for weeks, ever since their night at the hotel. It had been non-stop sex, movies and takeaways which, at first, Jack was more than happy with.
Their friends had stopped bothering to call and check in. While it was no secret among Jack’s circle, Dean of course hadn’t confided in anyone.
The only time they were apart was when Dean was at the gym or making one of his “random” trips home, which happened every few days and took him away from Jack for hours.
Even at work they were together and it took all of Jack’s restraint to keep away from his man during those periods.
But Jack was bored of keeping their relationship behind closed doors. He would never have dreamed of pressuring Dean to come out, he believed that was a decision only the person had the right to make.
Dean jumped up, stripping out of his T-shirt and kicking his shorts off. He’s seen it hundreds of times by then, but Jack couldn’t help but smile as he took in his sexy friend’s body.
“You know I can’t go out around here, babe,” Dean said, falling dramatically onto the bed and fixing Jack with some serious puppy-dog eyes. “I’m not ready.”
Jack, keen to get out the speech he’d prepared before the sight before him dissolved his willpower, replied: “I don’t mean around here.
“You go to London enough. What about if I came one time and we just went and had something to eat. Like normal couples.”
It looked like Dean flinched slightly before he rolled over, not looking at Jack as he asked quietly: “Am I stopping you from living your life? You knew it would be like this.”
Jack had not meant to start a row and quickly rolled over too so he was on top of Dean and started kissing him.
“Dean, I promise you, if you want to stay in this apartment forever, I would have no problem with that. All I want is you. It was just a suggestion, forget I said anything.”
After thinking for a few minutes, Dean said: “No, you’re right.
“I’ve got to go back tonight. Why don’t I head off before you, do what I need to do and then meet you somewhere?”
Jack wasn’t shocked the suggestion of travelling together had been shut down immediately. He still hadn’t built up the courage to ask Dean what he really did for a living.
A few days after essentially moving into the apartment, Jack was looking for something at the bottom of Dean’s wardrobe and came across a shoe box stuffed to the brim with twenty and fifty pound notes. He almost felt stupid for missing the signs before but had no idea how to bring it up.
Realising he had to pick his battles, Jack said: “That would be great. Where do you want to go?”
Dean jumped up once again, checking his watch. “I’ll sort it out. But you’ll need to go back to yours and get something to wear.”
Jack feigned offence as Dean laughed, adding: “I just meant let’s make an effort, yeah? If we’re going to do it, let’s do it right.”
He pulled Jack up and into a kiss. “Go,” he murmured. “I’ll let you know where to meet me.”
Suddenly distracted by the hardening cock in Dean’s boxers, Jack reached down but had his hand playfully slapped away.
“No time for that, babe. Unless you want to stick with our usual sex and a kebab tonight?”
***
Jack walked into the living room of his own flat to find Seema, make-up free and dressed in a grey onesie, and Emmy in her red robe, curlers in her hair and doing her make-up in front of a full-length mirror.
“Fuck me, you remembered where you live?” Emmy said, laughing as she applied lipstick and fixing Jack’s reflection with a sassy grin.
“Ha Ha,” Jack replied, taking a seat on one of the sofas. “What are you getting all dressed up for?”
“It’s Thursday night, babe,” Seema said in her thick Leeds accent, taking a sip of her wine. “No men date night, in case you’ve forgotten. We’d ask you but as you and Dean are joined at the hip…”
Jack chucked a cushion at her and quipped: “Fuck off. Dean and I are actually going on our own date night later.”
Emmy scoffed. “To the Indian take-away at the end of the road? Seems,” she turned to their friend. “You got a message for your dad?” Seema kicked her playfully.
Rolling his eyes, Jack replied: “No babes, that was last night. Your dad says hi, Seems. We’re going out for real tonight.”
“Has he told you he’s a drug dealer yet?” Amina’s voice rang out from the hallway.
She stepped into the living room wearing a pair of silk bootie shorts and a crop top, showing off her gorgeous curves and glowing black skin, fresh from a recent trip home to Somaliland.
“Come on, guys,” Jack sighed as Amina squashed up next to him.
“You’ve got to ask him, babe,” Amina said flatly. She was one of the nicest people Jack had ever met and never failed to cheer him up - but even she could be stern.
She continued: “How has he managed to keep it a secret with you all up in his space?”
Jack shrugged, replying: “I just choose what I notice, I guess.”
Seema stood up, her long brunette hair falling down her back, and walked over to the iPod dock.
They jokingly called their British Indian friend Princess Jasmine but she really was stunning, even without make-up.
The girls also referred to Jack as Alan Carr when he had his glasses on, purely because of his sexuality, and Emmy was known as their mail-order bride due to her Thai heritage, so political correctness was non-existent when the four of them were together.
She filled the room with the sound of Rick Ross’ Aston Martin Music - it had become ‘their’ song as a group - and busied herself filling up glasses with wine.
Seema handed Jack a glass of rosé before taking her seat and asking: “So where are you two lovebirds off to?”
Right on cue, Jack’s Blackberry pinged with a BBM message from Dean, reading: “London Bridge, 8pm xx.”
He held up the phone and shrugged. “No idea. But I need to get ready and I have no idea what to wear.”
Emmy, who was now finished with her make-up, stood up and, with a softened expression, pulled Jack from the sofa and said: “Come on then, let’s make sure you show him just how lucky he is to have you.”
***
Jack stepped off the escalator at London Bridge a few minutes before 8pm, wondering what the night had in store for him.
It didn’t take long before he located Dean, standing with one foot against the wall and looking as handsome as ever.
Dean was dressed in a white Prada sweatshirt, dark blue jeans and a pair of white Louboutin trainers.
His hair was pushed over in his usual style and he wore a scrunched up look on his face as he tapped away on his phone.
Jack suddenly felt awkward, unsure how to greet Dean in such a public place. But he needn’t have worried.
Looking up and clocking him, Dean’s face broke out into a beaming smile. He pulled Jack into a hug and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before making a big deal out of leaning back to check him out.
Giving a low whistle, Dean playfully said: “I reckon we should get out of here before my boyfriend sees us.”
Jack’s stomach flipped. It was the first time Dean had referred to him as his boyfriend and he felt any quiet insecurities about their relationship status fade away instantly.
“So, where are we going?” Jack asked as he followed him onto another escalator, this time going down.
“I was in the mood for Chinese, is that good with you?” Dean replied, not turning around.
Jack felt his heart sink, picturing a grotty take-away and them eating egg fried rice out of plastic containers on a wall. Usually he’d be more than happy with that but, after Dean had made a big deal out of getting dressed up, he’d hoped for something a little more special.
But once again he was pleasantly surprised as Dean led him into The Shard, checking in with the Shangri-La hotel doorman before they headed into an elevator.
Reaching level 33, Jack’s jaw physically dropped as he took in the sight of Hutong - the seriously upscale Chinese restaurant.
The room was filled with a warm glow from dozens of traditional red lanterns and Jack was momentarily stunned by the panoramic view of the city skyline.
After taking their seats, Jack noticed Dean looking at him almost uncertainly. “Is this ok?” he asked.
He found it adorable that Dean seemed to be nervous about impressing him but was quick to reply: “I told you, as long as you’re there we could be anywhere.”
They chatted while eating the most delicious food and working their way through a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, with Jack feeling like he was living a dream.
Just a few months earlier he never would have believed he and Dean would be on a date much less in an actual relationship.
Dean, as always, paid the bill in cash and they started to make their way out.
But, feeling emboldened by the champagne, Jack took a quick look over his shoulder before grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him into the men’s washroom.
The views of the city continued in there, with floor-to-ceiling windows making the space feel much more open than it should be.
“What are you up to, Jacky?” Dean asked, chuckling as he was pushed into a cubicle.
Instead of answering, Jack sank to his knees and busied himself with unbuckling Dean’s black and grey checkered Louis Vuitton belt.
After unbuttoning his jeans, Jack was greeted with the sight of Dean’s growing cock through his white Calvin Kleins.
“Babe, we can’t…” Dean started, but was interrupted by his hardening dick being pulled out as Jack worked the foreskin back and forward.
It took Dean seconds to reach full mast and Jack quickly took the head in his mouth, working his tongue around it and licking up the pre-cum.
With one hand working the shaft and the other massaging Dean’s balls, Jack started to suck hard and fast, making his man shudder as he took his cock to the base before pulling back again.
Dean placed his hand on the back of Jack’s head and gently but firmly started face-fucking him.
The quiet washroom was filled with the sound of his cock being repeatedly forced to the back of Jack’s throat, resulting in the occasional cough and splutter.
Dean, though trying to contain his groans, was growing louder by the second. He croaked: “I’m close, babe.”
Suddenly, they heard the main door open and the sound of foosteps approaching one of the urinals - but it was too late.
With a final thrust and a strangled moan Dean erupted with his cock lodged in Jack’s throat, filling his mouth with his load.
Jack stood up, smiling awkwardly, as Dean hurried to make himself decent. As they waited for the person to finish up, Dean pulled him in for a slow kiss and whispered: “You’re crazy, Jacky. But I love it… I love you.”
Floored, Jack’s eyes grew wide and he saw Dean’s face suddenly drop as he quickly added: “I mean, I don’t love you… like, I know that’s mad…”
But Jack cut him off with a kiss. “Shut up, idiot. I love you too, you know that.”
“Seriously,” Dean replied. “You make me feel like anything is possible. Like we could fuck everything off and move somewhere nobody knows us and just be together. Properly.”
“Why can’t we do that?” Jack asked, deadly serious.
Dean sighed and looked at his feet, saying: “I wish it was that easy. Come on, we’d better get out of here.”
***
They exited The Shard and started making their way towards Southwark Street, with Dean suggesting that they go for a drink at Borough Market.
Jack felt like he was floating: Dean was his boyfriend! And he loved him! He couldn’t help letting his imagination run wild, picturing them escaping to a new life where they didn’t have to hide their relationship any more.
But he was pulled out of his trance as three men on bikes appeared, each hoodied up and wearing balaclavas.
They started circling him and Dean, before one called out: “Yo, it’s my man from North. Are you slipping, fam? These ain’t your ends.”
The other two started laughing before one came up close to Jack and said: “And who’s this batty boy?”
Jack, never one to hold back when faced with homophobia, opened his mouth but Dean said through gritted teeth: “Leave it.”
Panic started rising in Jack when he saw one of the men put his hand in his pocket, convinced he’d seen a flash of silver.
Dean must have noticed it too as he suddenly picked Jack up and started running, with the biker boys close on their tail.
He flagged a cab and opened the door, throwing Jack inside before jumping in.
“If he’s gonna be sick I ain’t taking you nowhere, you hear me?” The bald driver said gruffly as he turned to face them.
“Relax, mate,” Dean fired back. “He ain’t pissed. Just fucking drive, yeah?”
As the cab zoomed away, a nervous-looking Dean was focused on the rear window. Jack turned too and saw one of the men on the phone while the other two brandished blades menacingly.
Once the thugs were out of sight, Dean sank down low in the back seat. Jack noticed a sheen of sweat on his forehead and he was breathing heavily.
Without looking at Jack, Dean sighed, covering his face with his hands, before saying: “There’s something I need to tell you.”
