Fic: Blind Dates
Title: Blind Dates
Author: Jenny Starseed
Rating: R
Character(s): Martin Crieff/OFC, Eventually Martin Crieff/Arthur Shappy
Summary: After a series of bad blind dates, Martin finds what he's looking for.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2850
Author's Notes: Written as part of the Cabin Crew Riot tumblr Bingo challenge.
Nancy
Martin was sitting in a restaurant in his best shirt and trousers on a blind date. His brother, Simon, set him up on this date, after many months of cajoling and nagging. Nancy was a pretty brunette, about 30 years old and she had very nice hands. He supposed she was nice enough if not a little distracted. He would ask her about her work, films she’s seen or books she read and all she could do was give very short answers that lead to nothing resembling a conversation at all. The food was taking a long time to come. Martin checked his watch. It’s been fifteen minutes since they ordered and he wanted to get his food soon so that he had something to do other than talk to his very disinterested date.
Eventually, the subject came upon exes. Martin knew that this topic was off-limits on first dates, but Nancy really wanted to talk about her ex-boyfriend, Gordon. Gordon had a lovely face but he let his body go. He turned fat and hostile. He never did the dishes. He criticized the way she dressed and the extra few pounds she gained since they met. They were in love but he didn’t want to get married. He thought thirty-three was too young to get married when he still wanted to taste a few more experiences before settling down. She pressed on him on what he meant and he didn’t elaborate. Five months later, he’s sleeping with one of university students as a last hurrah before he would buy the ring and propose to her. He had to be sure by sleeping with a woman ten years younger than her that he would be content with sleeping with her for the rest of his life. Nancy ranted that that was the most stupid thing she ever heard and she couldn’t understand his reasoning.
Then the food finally came. Martin was ready to leave but now he can’t because the food was on the table and it would be awkward to leave in the middle of the meal. So he steeled himself for another thirty minutes of her rant about Gordon before he paid the bill and left. Two weeks later, Simon informed him that Nancy got back together with Gordon and it took all of Martin’s self-control to not hit Simon.
Melinda
I am a clot, thought Martin. He had been roped into another blind date. This time, it was his sister, Caitlin, who set this up for him. The girl he was about to meet was a food blogger and she was fifteen minutes late. He assumed that this would be a casual pub outing with beer, pies and chips. Instead, this was a very posh pub where people wear suits and pretty dresses to go out to dinner. There was mellow jazz music playing over the speakers and the pub was lit mostly by candle light and some very dim blue lights above him. He was in his best clothes and he still felt shabby in them in comparison to others.
Finally, Melinda, the girl that was his date, showed up. She smelled of cigarettes and she wore a posh looking yellow shift dress that probably costs him a month of his salary.
She took his hand and leaned into him, saying “This is very CPL.”
“Very what?”
“CPL. Completely Posh and Lovely,” she explained. “It’s a code word of sorts so that the waiters won’t over hear my judgement of their establishment before I write my review. As a well known food blogger, you have to be confidential and careful about your work.”
“So you’re here to work?” asked Martin.
She pulled out a notepad and began scribbling. “Don’t worry, the meal is completely free. Caitlin told me you had money trouble and I thought I would treat you to a free meal and get my work done. I call it clever multi-tasking.”
“So you’ll be um...ah, blogging this whole night?”
“Mostly. But enjoy your meal, Martin. I hear they serve an excellent duck comfit pie. This place does a wonderful fusion of British pub food and French haut cuisine. Enjoy.”
The food was good even if the portions were tiny and artfully arranged. The duck pie was fatty and rich and it went well with the green swirls of sauce around the plate. Melinda called that a vegetable reduction sauce. It added a freshness to contrast with the richness she explained. Next was an ice cream sculpture in the shape of a top hat with an apple pastry that was in the shape of a flower. Martin poked at the sculpture and took a spoonful of it to eat once he was convinced that no one was looking at him critically. He felt too self-conscious around Melinda with her posh clothes, fancy words and friendly but dismissive manner. He was obviously the second thing on her mind since this date was not really a date at all. The head chef came and greeted Melinda. They gave each other a kiss kiss motion and a strange hug before Martin and Melinda left the pub. She did the same kiss kiss motion with the strange hug that she did with the head chef and bid him goodbye. It was doubtful that Martin would ever see her again. But at least he got a nice free fancy meal out of it.
Interlude: Love Life
“How was your blind date with the food blogger?” asked Douglas, after the safety checks were complete.
“Um, not much to talk about really,” replied Martin with an affected bored tone to discourage Douglas’s interest. He didn’t want to talk about his love life with Douglas. “We went to a very nice restaurant and we got along alright but I don’t think we had much in common.”
“Who was your lucky date?”
“Melinda Anderson.”
“THE Melinda Anderson,” repeated Douglas, stunned. He let out a low whistling sound. “That’s quite a posh and successful woman you went out with.”
Arthur came in with the cheese tray. “Hello chaps. What are we doing? Word games? Preparing another for another round of passenger Darby?”
“No, we’re discussing Martin’s love life,” said Douglas. “Did you know Martin went on two blind dates? One with Melinda Anderson and another with...what was her name?”
“Nancy,” answered Martin. “And I’d rather not talk about her. That was a disaster.”
“You’re trying to get a date, Skip?” asked Arthur. He put the cheese tray in Martin’s sight line as if to say, take one. “Why didn’t you ask me? I’m brilliant at match-making! I can find a nice girl for you, skip. Or a boy if you like them that way. It will be more brilliant than Burling Day.”
“Anything is more brilliant than Burling Day,” muttered Martin, taking a square of Gouda. If he made the Gouda the most interesting thing the flight deck, maybe Arthur and Douglas will stop talking about his love life. No such luck. Arthur was persistent like Douglas was nosey.
“How about it, Skip? When we land in Germany, I can call up one of my old school friends. Would you like to go out on a date with Andy or Joan?”
“Um, Joan?”
“Okey-dokie! I’ll send her a text right now, it will be brilliant.”
Arthur left the flight deck. Douglas gave Martin a funny look. “Really, Martin? You’ll let Arthur set you up on a blind date? Are you really that desperate?”
“It’s not desperation,” said Martin defensively. “I’m simply keeping my options open.”
“Don’t injure yourself trying to impress this girl.”
“Shut up, Douglas.”
“You’ll give me the details of the date when it’s over?”
Martin snorted.
“Oh please. I know you’ve wanting to vent about these terrible dates and I’m terribly bored,” said Douglas. Martin didn’t answer. “I promise you to give you the landing if you do. I’ll even keep the snide comments to myself.”
Martin sighed. “Deal.”
Joan
Joan was a stern woman in her mid-thirties. She dictated when and where they should meet and gave excellent directions to Martin. Her clipped tone should have clued Martin into what kind of woman Joan was. Everything about her was immaculate and expertly controlled. From her expertly dyed hair that had hints of gold in her ginger hair tied in a complicated chignon to her patent leather black heels, this was a woman who thrived on getting the details right. Her grey suit looked expensive and it was clear that she just came from work.
The bar was warm and cosy and full of after-work banker types. Martin didn’t know what beer to order and he could feel the weight of Joan’s impatience on his shoulders as he dithered in front of the bartender. Before he could ask for a recommendation, Joan suggested a German lager that he couldn’t pronounce properly. He stumbled over the name but the bartender knew what he was talking about. Martin felt embarrassed and that was usually a bad start to any date.
Joan smiled and asked what it was like to work as a pilot. Their drinks came and Martin took a hasty long gulp, hoping the alcohol would give him a little courage. He tried to begin his story about his favorite landing in Florida but he couldn’t quite the words to co-operate. He felt like Joan was assessing everything about him despite her polite but studied friendly manner. She inspired so much performance anxiety that Martin wasn’t sure if he was trying to impress her because he was attracted to her or if it was a reaction to the expectant air she gave off.
“And so, after much uh, negotiation...because the aviation legislation in the U.S. is becoming more stringent and you never know how they will react if you don’t follow their ATC’s instructions to the last detail...we were able to land safely without filling the 4035 form and a five hundred dollar fine,” finished Martin. He ended the story with a smile that felt uncomfortable on his face, as though it didn’t belong there. “So, um, what do you do?”
“I’m a financial analyst,” she said. Martin waited for her to elaborate but nothing came forth. It was as though he was expected to know something that was obvious to everyone but him. Eventually she explained her job, throwing in all sorts of words that didn’t mean anything to Martin except that they conveyed that she was a very important person who did very complicated expensive thing. The rest of the date was spent listening to her talk about the Euro zone crisis which Martin only had a rudimentary knowledge of. He quietly listened to her rant over an excellent beer that the Germans had perfected. How on earth did Arthur know this woman? She didn’t seem like the sort Arthur would hang out with in his youth. It felt like useless repeat of his date with Melinda, except there was no fancy food to intimidate him.
After forty-five minutes, she gave a hollow apology for cutting their date short. She had an early morning meeting and she had a lot of reports to write. He paid the bill to preserve his pride. Martin didn’t want another reminder of how inadequate he was if he let her pay half. This meant he didn’t have enough money left over for a cab to the hotel he was staying at and he wasn’t going to share a taxi with Joan for that reason. Joan gave him a stiff hug that resembled a pat on the back and made another hollow apology for leaving early.
The rain began to pour heavily outside and it didn’t occur to Martin to bring an umbrella. He didn’t even have his captain’s hat on. He pulled up his collar and ran as fast as he could back to the hotel.
Arthur
Arthur sat crossed-legged on the small twin bed in the hotel room he shared with Martin. He was wearing his t-shirt and pajama trousers, reading an Archie comic he picked up from their last over-night flight to America. He looked out the window and noticed how heavily it was raining. He frowned. He didn’t remember Martin bringing his umbrella when he left for his date. He had dressed very hastily after they settled in their hotel room. He remembered watching Martin strip out of his uniform and into a wrinkled white shirt and dark navy trousers. Arthur knew he should feel guilty for arranging such an early date to get a chance to see Martin strip out of his clothes without any self-consciousness. Joan would always be busy so it didn’t matter when he arranged the date. He liked watching Martin run his hands through his hair in a futile attempt to tame his wild curls with cheap hair gel that smelled like blueberries. He turned around and asked if he looked alright.
“You look brilliant skip,” said Arthur and he meant it. Martin smiled. It was the reliable reassuring Arthur thing to say and Martin took it as a means of assurance rather than an honest answer Arthur meant it to be.
Now Arthur could hear Martin on the other side of the door, fumbling with his key card. Arthur looked up, alarmed. “Are you cold, Skip?”
Martin looked quite a sight. He was completely soaked. He clothes uncomfortably clung to his shivering body and Arthur didn’t like the squishy sound his shoes made. A stray curl was plastered on his forehead that made him look miserably adorable.
Martin closed the door and threw his key card on the nearby table. He began to unbutton his shirt. “Just a little. Nothing a hot shower and dry clothes won’t help.”
“And a cuddle. Do you need a cuddle?”
“That’s an odd thing to offer,” Martin remarked. Arthur got up to fetch a towel for Martin.
“Why is it odd?” he asked, handing Martin the towel.
Martin took off his shirt. Arthur tried his best to memorize every bit of Martin’s bare skin. There was a nice little freckle on his shoulder.
“We’re friends Arthur. Grown men who are friends don’t cuddle.”
“Yeah, but we could be more than friends.”
Martin looked at Arthur. His eyes were wide and...Full of something Arthur couldn’t pin down. But he knew what that look meant anyway. “We could give it a go,” said Martin and began the struggle of taking off his wet trousers.
“Brilliant,” said Arthur as he began to strip as well. Arthur striped as quick as he could so that those naughty thoughts of doubt wouldn’t have time to make him nervous. He laid flat on the bed and waited with anticipation for Martin to join him. Martin positioned himself between Arthur’s legs and kissed him clumsily. It was uncomfortable and lovely to have Martin in his arms, kissing him senseless. Arthur wanted to hug and kiss all the cold and dampness out of Martin’s skin.
“Gosh skip! You’re freezing,” said Arthur, after they broke the kiss.
“I can think of a great way to keep warm,” said Martin, dipping his hand down between them. Arthur gasped. Martin’s cold hand on his cock felt like quite a shock to his system and all Arthur could think of was Martin’s hand touching him and...and it was brilliant. Arthur wiggled a bit so that his cock would touch Martin’s, making Martin moan in a very nice way. Martin made many half apologies for his inexperienced clumsy lovemaking that Arthur would silence with his kisses. It didn’t matter. Arthur wasn’t sure what he was doing either and he didn’t care as long as he could make Martin feel wonderful. Because Martin was brilliant and all those ladies were fools to not have Martin writhing and moaning in his arms. It didn’t take long for Arthur to feel his limbs and hips lose control as he let the intense warm tingly feeling engulf him, making an awful mess on Martin’s stomach. Martin came a short time later with a low growl that did funny things to Arthur’s stomach.
They stilled their hips but Arthur could feel Martin tremble in the afterglow of his orgasm. They laid there for a moment with only the harsh sound of their breaths punctuating the silence of their musty, cheap hotel room. Arthur pulled the blanket over himself and Martin. Martin was still cold in his arms but Arthur could solve that with extra cuddles. He kissed the top of Martin’s head and asked about his date with Joan.
“How did you meet a woman like Joan?” asked Martin. “I didn’t think you had friends who are so...”
“Ranty?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s my mum’s best friend’s daughter.”
Martin responded with an “mmm” and fell asleep in Arthur’s arms. For once, Arthur’s plan had worked. He knew that keeping in contact with the shouty and ranty daughters of Mum’s friends would come in handy one day. All of Skipper’s dates were idiots if they didn’t know how nice it was to have Skipper asleep and happy in their arms.
Author: Jenny Starseed
Rating: R
Character(s): Martin Crieff/OFC, Eventually Martin Crieff/Arthur Shappy
Summary: After a series of bad blind dates, Martin finds what he's looking for.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2850
Author's Notes: Written as part of the Cabin Crew Riot tumblr Bingo challenge.
Nancy
Martin was sitting in a restaurant in his best shirt and trousers on a blind date. His brother, Simon, set him up on this date, after many months of cajoling and nagging. Nancy was a pretty brunette, about 30 years old and she had very nice hands. He supposed she was nice enough if not a little distracted. He would ask her about her work, films she’s seen or books she read and all she could do was give very short answers that lead to nothing resembling a conversation at all. The food was taking a long time to come. Martin checked his watch. It’s been fifteen minutes since they ordered and he wanted to get his food soon so that he had something to do other than talk to his very disinterested date.
Eventually, the subject came upon exes. Martin knew that this topic was off-limits on first dates, but Nancy really wanted to talk about her ex-boyfriend, Gordon. Gordon had a lovely face but he let his body go. He turned fat and hostile. He never did the dishes. He criticized the way she dressed and the extra few pounds she gained since they met. They were in love but he didn’t want to get married. He thought thirty-three was too young to get married when he still wanted to taste a few more experiences before settling down. She pressed on him on what he meant and he didn’t elaborate. Five months later, he’s sleeping with one of university students as a last hurrah before he would buy the ring and propose to her. He had to be sure by sleeping with a woman ten years younger than her that he would be content with sleeping with her for the rest of his life. Nancy ranted that that was the most stupid thing she ever heard and she couldn’t understand his reasoning.
Then the food finally came. Martin was ready to leave but now he can’t because the food was on the table and it would be awkward to leave in the middle of the meal. So he steeled himself for another thirty minutes of her rant about Gordon before he paid the bill and left. Two weeks later, Simon informed him that Nancy got back together with Gordon and it took all of Martin’s self-control to not hit Simon.
Melinda
I am a clot, thought Martin. He had been roped into another blind date. This time, it was his sister, Caitlin, who set this up for him. The girl he was about to meet was a food blogger and she was fifteen minutes late. He assumed that this would be a casual pub outing with beer, pies and chips. Instead, this was a very posh pub where people wear suits and pretty dresses to go out to dinner. There was mellow jazz music playing over the speakers and the pub was lit mostly by candle light and some very dim blue lights above him. He was in his best clothes and he still felt shabby in them in comparison to others.
Finally, Melinda, the girl that was his date, showed up. She smelled of cigarettes and she wore a posh looking yellow shift dress that probably costs him a month of his salary.
She took his hand and leaned into him, saying “This is very CPL.”
“Very what?”
“CPL. Completely Posh and Lovely,” she explained. “It’s a code word of sorts so that the waiters won’t over hear my judgement of their establishment before I write my review. As a well known food blogger, you have to be confidential and careful about your work.”
“So you’re here to work?” asked Martin.
She pulled out a notepad and began scribbling. “Don’t worry, the meal is completely free. Caitlin told me you had money trouble and I thought I would treat you to a free meal and get my work done. I call it clever multi-tasking.”
“So you’ll be um...ah, blogging this whole night?”
“Mostly. But enjoy your meal, Martin. I hear they serve an excellent duck comfit pie. This place does a wonderful fusion of British pub food and French haut cuisine. Enjoy.”
The food was good even if the portions were tiny and artfully arranged. The duck pie was fatty and rich and it went well with the green swirls of sauce around the plate. Melinda called that a vegetable reduction sauce. It added a freshness to contrast with the richness she explained. Next was an ice cream sculpture in the shape of a top hat with an apple pastry that was in the shape of a flower. Martin poked at the sculpture and took a spoonful of it to eat once he was convinced that no one was looking at him critically. He felt too self-conscious around Melinda with her posh clothes, fancy words and friendly but dismissive manner. He was obviously the second thing on her mind since this date was not really a date at all. The head chef came and greeted Melinda. They gave each other a kiss kiss motion and a strange hug before Martin and Melinda left the pub. She did the same kiss kiss motion with the strange hug that she did with the head chef and bid him goodbye. It was doubtful that Martin would ever see her again. But at least he got a nice free fancy meal out of it.
Interlude: Love Life
“How was your blind date with the food blogger?” asked Douglas, after the safety checks were complete.
“Um, not much to talk about really,” replied Martin with an affected bored tone to discourage Douglas’s interest. He didn’t want to talk about his love life with Douglas. “We went to a very nice restaurant and we got along alright but I don’t think we had much in common.”
“Who was your lucky date?”
“Melinda Anderson.”
“THE Melinda Anderson,” repeated Douglas, stunned. He let out a low whistling sound. “That’s quite a posh and successful woman you went out with.”
Arthur came in with the cheese tray. “Hello chaps. What are we doing? Word games? Preparing another for another round of passenger Darby?”
“No, we’re discussing Martin’s love life,” said Douglas. “Did you know Martin went on two blind dates? One with Melinda Anderson and another with...what was her name?”
“Nancy,” answered Martin. “And I’d rather not talk about her. That was a disaster.”
“You’re trying to get a date, Skip?” asked Arthur. He put the cheese tray in Martin’s sight line as if to say, take one. “Why didn’t you ask me? I’m brilliant at match-making! I can find a nice girl for you, skip. Or a boy if you like them that way. It will be more brilliant than Burling Day.”
“Anything is more brilliant than Burling Day,” muttered Martin, taking a square of Gouda. If he made the Gouda the most interesting thing the flight deck, maybe Arthur and Douglas will stop talking about his love life. No such luck. Arthur was persistent like Douglas was nosey.
“How about it, Skip? When we land in Germany, I can call up one of my old school friends. Would you like to go out on a date with Andy or Joan?”
“Um, Joan?”
“Okey-dokie! I’ll send her a text right now, it will be brilliant.”
Arthur left the flight deck. Douglas gave Martin a funny look. “Really, Martin? You’ll let Arthur set you up on a blind date? Are you really that desperate?”
“It’s not desperation,” said Martin defensively. “I’m simply keeping my options open.”
“Don’t injure yourself trying to impress this girl.”
“Shut up, Douglas.”
“You’ll give me the details of the date when it’s over?”
Martin snorted.
“Oh please. I know you’ve wanting to vent about these terrible dates and I’m terribly bored,” said Douglas. Martin didn’t answer. “I promise you to give you the landing if you do. I’ll even keep the snide comments to myself.”
Martin sighed. “Deal.”
Joan
Joan was a stern woman in her mid-thirties. She dictated when and where they should meet and gave excellent directions to Martin. Her clipped tone should have clued Martin into what kind of woman Joan was. Everything about her was immaculate and expertly controlled. From her expertly dyed hair that had hints of gold in her ginger hair tied in a complicated chignon to her patent leather black heels, this was a woman who thrived on getting the details right. Her grey suit looked expensive and it was clear that she just came from work.
The bar was warm and cosy and full of after-work banker types. Martin didn’t know what beer to order and he could feel the weight of Joan’s impatience on his shoulders as he dithered in front of the bartender. Before he could ask for a recommendation, Joan suggested a German lager that he couldn’t pronounce properly. He stumbled over the name but the bartender knew what he was talking about. Martin felt embarrassed and that was usually a bad start to any date.
Joan smiled and asked what it was like to work as a pilot. Their drinks came and Martin took a hasty long gulp, hoping the alcohol would give him a little courage. He tried to begin his story about his favorite landing in Florida but he couldn’t quite the words to co-operate. He felt like Joan was assessing everything about him despite her polite but studied friendly manner. She inspired so much performance anxiety that Martin wasn’t sure if he was trying to impress her because he was attracted to her or if it was a reaction to the expectant air she gave off.
“And so, after much uh, negotiation...because the aviation legislation in the U.S. is becoming more stringent and you never know how they will react if you don’t follow their ATC’s instructions to the last detail...we were able to land safely without filling the 4035 form and a five hundred dollar fine,” finished Martin. He ended the story with a smile that felt uncomfortable on his face, as though it didn’t belong there. “So, um, what do you do?”
“I’m a financial analyst,” she said. Martin waited for her to elaborate but nothing came forth. It was as though he was expected to know something that was obvious to everyone but him. Eventually she explained her job, throwing in all sorts of words that didn’t mean anything to Martin except that they conveyed that she was a very important person who did very complicated expensive thing. The rest of the date was spent listening to her talk about the Euro zone crisis which Martin only had a rudimentary knowledge of. He quietly listened to her rant over an excellent beer that the Germans had perfected. How on earth did Arthur know this woman? She didn’t seem like the sort Arthur would hang out with in his youth. It felt like useless repeat of his date with Melinda, except there was no fancy food to intimidate him.
After forty-five minutes, she gave a hollow apology for cutting their date short. She had an early morning meeting and she had a lot of reports to write. He paid the bill to preserve his pride. Martin didn’t want another reminder of how inadequate he was if he let her pay half. This meant he didn’t have enough money left over for a cab to the hotel he was staying at and he wasn’t going to share a taxi with Joan for that reason. Joan gave him a stiff hug that resembled a pat on the back and made another hollow apology for leaving early.
The rain began to pour heavily outside and it didn’t occur to Martin to bring an umbrella. He didn’t even have his captain’s hat on. He pulled up his collar and ran as fast as he could back to the hotel.
Arthur
Arthur sat crossed-legged on the small twin bed in the hotel room he shared with Martin. He was wearing his t-shirt and pajama trousers, reading an Archie comic he picked up from their last over-night flight to America. He looked out the window and noticed how heavily it was raining. He frowned. He didn’t remember Martin bringing his umbrella when he left for his date. He had dressed very hastily after they settled in their hotel room. He remembered watching Martin strip out of his uniform and into a wrinkled white shirt and dark navy trousers. Arthur knew he should feel guilty for arranging such an early date to get a chance to see Martin strip out of his clothes without any self-consciousness. Joan would always be busy so it didn’t matter when he arranged the date. He liked watching Martin run his hands through his hair in a futile attempt to tame his wild curls with cheap hair gel that smelled like blueberries. He turned around and asked if he looked alright.
“You look brilliant skip,” said Arthur and he meant it. Martin smiled. It was the reliable reassuring Arthur thing to say and Martin took it as a means of assurance rather than an honest answer Arthur meant it to be.
Now Arthur could hear Martin on the other side of the door, fumbling with his key card. Arthur looked up, alarmed. “Are you cold, Skip?”
Martin looked quite a sight. He was completely soaked. He clothes uncomfortably clung to his shivering body and Arthur didn’t like the squishy sound his shoes made. A stray curl was plastered on his forehead that made him look miserably adorable.
Martin closed the door and threw his key card on the nearby table. He began to unbutton his shirt. “Just a little. Nothing a hot shower and dry clothes won’t help.”
“And a cuddle. Do you need a cuddle?”
“That’s an odd thing to offer,” Martin remarked. Arthur got up to fetch a towel for Martin.
“Why is it odd?” he asked, handing Martin the towel.
Martin took off his shirt. Arthur tried his best to memorize every bit of Martin’s bare skin. There was a nice little freckle on his shoulder.
“We’re friends Arthur. Grown men who are friends don’t cuddle.”
“Yeah, but we could be more than friends.”
Martin looked at Arthur. His eyes were wide and...Full of something Arthur couldn’t pin down. But he knew what that look meant anyway. “We could give it a go,” said Martin and began the struggle of taking off his wet trousers.
“Brilliant,” said Arthur as he began to strip as well. Arthur striped as quick as he could so that those naughty thoughts of doubt wouldn’t have time to make him nervous. He laid flat on the bed and waited with anticipation for Martin to join him. Martin positioned himself between Arthur’s legs and kissed him clumsily. It was uncomfortable and lovely to have Martin in his arms, kissing him senseless. Arthur wanted to hug and kiss all the cold and dampness out of Martin’s skin.
“Gosh skip! You’re freezing,” said Arthur, after they broke the kiss.
“I can think of a great way to keep warm,” said Martin, dipping his hand down between them. Arthur gasped. Martin’s cold hand on his cock felt like quite a shock to his system and all Arthur could think of was Martin’s hand touching him and...and it was brilliant. Arthur wiggled a bit so that his cock would touch Martin’s, making Martin moan in a very nice way. Martin made many half apologies for his inexperienced clumsy lovemaking that Arthur would silence with his kisses. It didn’t matter. Arthur wasn’t sure what he was doing either and he didn’t care as long as he could make Martin feel wonderful. Because Martin was brilliant and all those ladies were fools to not have Martin writhing and moaning in his arms. It didn’t take long for Arthur to feel his limbs and hips lose control as he let the intense warm tingly feeling engulf him, making an awful mess on Martin’s stomach. Martin came a short time later with a low growl that did funny things to Arthur’s stomach.
They stilled their hips but Arthur could feel Martin tremble in the afterglow of his orgasm. They laid there for a moment with only the harsh sound of their breaths punctuating the silence of their musty, cheap hotel room. Arthur pulled the blanket over himself and Martin. Martin was still cold in his arms but Arthur could solve that with extra cuddles. He kissed the top of Martin’s head and asked about his date with Joan.
“How did you meet a woman like Joan?” asked Martin. “I didn’t think you had friends who are so...”
“Ranty?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s my mum’s best friend’s daughter.”
Martin responded with an “mmm” and fell asleep in Arthur’s arms. For once, Arthur’s plan had worked. He knew that keeping in contact with the shouty and ranty daughters of Mum’s friends would come in handy one day. All of Skipper’s dates were idiots if they didn’t know how nice it was to have Skipper asleep and happy in their arms.