the way, his breathing hard but controlled.
I darted round the back of the shearing sheds and let him corner me. “All right. It’s a fair cop.”
“Oh, Nichol…”
I didn’t want him kissing me. The feel of that, on my mouth anyway, brought back too many memories, threatened my control. A stand-up quickie, this was, two busy men with something to work off on one another. I thrust him back, diving to tongue his ear and neck the way he liked.
He banged me up against the shed wall and we tussled. “Where’s your granddad today?”
“Off with his sheepdogs at the Campbeltown mart. Nobody’s gonna see us.”
“I don’t care.”
Yeah, you do . Already he was turning me so his back would be to the wall, not mine, and he could keep a lookout. His hands were on my shoulders, pressing down. He liked our blow jobs that way round as well.
“Oh, no.” I chuckled, resisting. I whipped the smart black-brimmed cap off his head and set it jauntily on my own. “Where’s your heart, PC Silverbuttons? You owe me that much.”
“Now, Nicky, don’t you go getting sheep shit on that.” He made a grab for the hat, which I evaded. Then, as if acknowledging his debts, he sank to his knees.
It should have been great. God knew I shuddered and writhed as he unzipped my jeans, thumped my palms against the woodwork in front of me and cried out when he took me into his mouth. I snatched great breaths of the bright air to stop myself from coming on the spot. I lasted barely thirty seconds anyway. Archie wasn’t playing me for time, tonguing me hard, grabbing my backside to encourage my thrusts. It should have been great and it was, but given my year-long abstinence, unrelieved except by occasional half-asleep sessions with my own right hand, given how I’d missed him, it wasn’t the mind-blowing state occasion it ought to have been. I came, and I never lost awareness of the moment. Didn’t miss a trick of how he was hurrying me along. Not about to wait and let me see to him afterward either—through post-orgasmic tears I watched him frantically jerking off, shooting into his tight-clenched hand.
He knelt panting, resting his brow on my thigh. When full strength returned to my legs—and they’d never been in danger of giving way entirely—I took my hands off the shed wall. Carefully I helped him to his feet. I placed his cap back on his head then did my best to brush off some of the mud and hay strands that had attached themselves to his uniform. I fastened my jeans. His hands trembled as he dealt with his own zip and buttons.
“All right,” I said hoarsely, wiping away a glimmer of semen from his lower lip with my thumb. “That was grand, Archie. But…we should leave it at that. Yeah?”
His relief was palpable. I could see him trying to hide it. “Yeah. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw you around. I don’t really know what I was doing, coming here and…”
“You were horny. Me too. Don’t look so devastated.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Shut up. Come in and have a cup of tea.”
I moved around the kitchen quietly, letting him compose himself. I was getting a hell of a lot of traffic through here today. I superimposed Cameron’s thin, untidy image over Archie’s, where that solid policeman was sitting now in the same chair, and I wondered if I’d ever see my night visitor again. I couldn’t sense him eastward back towards the mainland. Maybe he’d kept going west, hitched a ride on a trawler and was headed off to Kintyre. My heart ached out after him. I’d known him for five minutes. I didn’t understand.
Archie looked up as I handed him his tea. He’d regained a little colour. “Ta,” he said. “Seriously, Nicky—thank you for not freaking out.”
“No reason to.” I didn’t take the chair opposite, as I had with Cameron. I hitched myself up to sit on the work surface, not too close, not too coldly far away. “We don’t have to talk about it any more now.”
“Okay.
I darted round the back of the shearing sheds and let him corner me. “All right. It’s a fair cop.”
“Oh, Nichol…”
I didn’t want him kissing me. The feel of that, on my mouth anyway, brought back too many memories, threatened my control. A stand-up quickie, this was, two busy men with something to work off on one another. I thrust him back, diving to tongue his ear and neck the way he liked.
He banged me up against the shed wall and we tussled. “Where’s your granddad today?”
“Off with his sheepdogs at the Campbeltown mart. Nobody’s gonna see us.”
“I don’t care.”
Yeah, you do . Already he was turning me so his back would be to the wall, not mine, and he could keep a lookout. His hands were on my shoulders, pressing down. He liked our blow jobs that way round as well.
“Oh, no.” I chuckled, resisting. I whipped the smart black-brimmed cap off his head and set it jauntily on my own. “Where’s your heart, PC Silverbuttons? You owe me that much.”
“Now, Nicky, don’t you go getting sheep shit on that.” He made a grab for the hat, which I evaded. Then, as if acknowledging his debts, he sank to his knees.
It should have been great. God knew I shuddered and writhed as he unzipped my jeans, thumped my palms against the woodwork in front of me and cried out when he took me into his mouth. I snatched great breaths of the bright air to stop myself from coming on the spot. I lasted barely thirty seconds anyway. Archie wasn’t playing me for time, tonguing me hard, grabbing my backside to encourage my thrusts. It should have been great and it was, but given my year-long abstinence, unrelieved except by occasional half-asleep sessions with my own right hand, given how I’d missed him, it wasn’t the mind-blowing state occasion it ought to have been. I came, and I never lost awareness of the moment. Didn’t miss a trick of how he was hurrying me along. Not about to wait and let me see to him afterward either—through post-orgasmic tears I watched him frantically jerking off, shooting into his tight-clenched hand.
He knelt panting, resting his brow on my thigh. When full strength returned to my legs—and they’d never been in danger of giving way entirely—I took my hands off the shed wall. Carefully I helped him to his feet. I placed his cap back on his head then did my best to brush off some of the mud and hay strands that had attached themselves to his uniform. I fastened my jeans. His hands trembled as he dealt with his own zip and buttons.
“All right,” I said hoarsely, wiping away a glimmer of semen from his lower lip with my thumb. “That was grand, Archie. But…we should leave it at that. Yeah?”
His relief was palpable. I could see him trying to hide it. “Yeah. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw you around. I don’t really know what I was doing, coming here and…”
“You were horny. Me too. Don’t look so devastated.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Shut up. Come in and have a cup of tea.”
I moved around the kitchen quietly, letting him compose himself. I was getting a hell of a lot of traffic through here today. I superimposed Cameron’s thin, untidy image over Archie’s, where that solid policeman was sitting now in the same chair, and I wondered if I’d ever see my night visitor again. I couldn’t sense him eastward back towards the mainland. Maybe he’d kept going west, hitched a ride on a trawler and was headed off to Kintyre. My heart ached out after him. I’d known him for five minutes. I didn’t understand.
Archie looked up as I handed him his tea. He’d regained a little colour. “Ta,” he said. “Seriously, Nicky—thank you for not freaking out.”
“No reason to.” I didn’t take the chair opposite, as I had with Cameron. I hitched myself up to sit on the work surface, not too close, not too coldly far away. “We don’t have to talk about it any more now.”
“Okay.
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