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They're both sticky and sweaty and absolutely shattered. But, as Arthur had gasped as he spilled over Martin's hand and his own stomach, "Oh, SKIP."
Martin's going to try not to think about the fact that he came almost at the same time. To cover it, he takes his weight on his elbows and presses a kiss to Arthur's neck.
And Arthur starts giggling and before Martin realizes, they're laughing, tussling - Arthur's ticklish and Martin can't help it, because he's just like a kitten, batting at his hands and squeaking - when the phone rings. The temptation, just like the temptation to tickle Arthur to death is too great. Martin picks up the phone.
"Captain Crieff, wanton sex god, with a very bad man between his thighs." It's safe enough - nobody calls him except Caitlyn, and dammit, it's about time his uptight sister got an earful. Arthur wiggles underneath him and giggles.
Unfortunately...
"... Carolyn! Hi!" Martin hurtles himself off of Arthur and falls off the narrow bed (not before whacking his head on the low hanging beam).
"Martin... let me be very clear." Carolyn is using her "I'm going to count to ONE" voice and Martin's erection, which had been showing a great deal of interest (especially given Arthur's very enthusiastic response to the tickling) crumples, almost as if his cock wants to crawl into his own body. "Why anyone would consider you to be a wanton sex god is not of ANY interest to me at all. What is, however of interest to me, you perverted pilot, is the whereabouts of my son. Douglas said he saw Arthur getting into your van."
"Erm... yes. He did, actually Carolyn."
"Oooh, is that Mum?" Arthur asks, flopping off the bed and onto Martin. Martin gives a loud grunt as the weight of a still sweaty and sticky Arthur lands on him.
"Yes," he croaks.
"Arthur?" Carolyn twitters over the phone. "What the hell are you doing there?"
Arthur grabs for the phone and Martin tries to roll out from under him, but Arthur's too solidly on Martin's back and he's stuck.
"Oh, hi, Mum! Skip just asked me to come round for a bit of a shag, you know... it's been ages since he's had any - and I really like making people happy, Skip especially - and do you know, Mum, he's not a virgin, or, that is he wasn't before we had sex, so Douglas owes me five pounds now, and isn't that brilliant?"
Martin has always wondered, and now knows for certain that it is possible to die of shame.
Over the phone he can hear Carolyn giving her opinion with regards to the relative "brilliance" of her son's activities. The whole house can probably hear her, come to that.
Arthur, not in the least perturbed, seems happy to straddle Martin and chat with his mother as if there's not a thing wrong.
Martin rests his head against the gritty, dirty floorboards and waits for Arthur to finish his phone call.
It would be, after all, just his luck that something like this would happen.
But at least, he thinks, Arthur's going to get five quid off of Douglas. So maybe it's not all bad.
Arthur hangs up the phone.
"Mum was a bit unhappy," he confides to Martin. "Not because I'm sleeping with you, but more that you might get distracted and forget something important if we're in GERTIE and you see me and decide to give me a blowjob in the galley, or fuck me on the instrument panel. But that'd be brilliant, though, I mean, as long as we're not flying or anything. So I promised mum that I'd be careful. But she also said that as long as I'm here, I might as well stay the weekend. So what'dya think, Skip? Fancy a weekender?" He rotates his hips against Martin's arse.
"Arthur..."
"Aw, come on, Skip! It'd be like a sleepover, but with more sex! It'll be..."
Martin takes a deep breath. There are so, so many ways this can go tragically wrong: don't sleep with the cabin crew, don't sleep with the boss' son, don't sleep with Arhur. But there's also one way, he thinks as he feels Arthur's cock harden against him, that it could be absolutely brilliant.
And perhaps, one day, when Arthur least expects it, he will give him a blowjob in the galley.
The flight deck however, is completely off limits.