After the (admittedly hilarious but far too nerve-wracking) trip to Ottery St Mary, Martin returned to work the following morning. He could get by on the sprain.
"Stop!" Douglas shouted. Martin froze with his hand in his locker.
"What? What did I do? I just got here!"
"You shouldn't be on your feet yet."
"I'm fine! My crutches are in the van. I'll be sitting down on the plane."
"Don't be stupid." Douglas bent and heaved Martin over his shoulder, ignoring his squawks. He staggered across the room and let Martin down with a thump on the ragged sofa. "Now, let's see what a hash you made of your ankle."
"Stop that!" Martin said. Martin's leg jerked automatically when Douglas touched his ankle, making him hiss with pain.
Douglas tutted at him. "Quite wrong. You'll hurt yourself worse, tying yourself up this way." He slipped off Martin's unlaced shoe and began to unwrap the ankle.
Martin sighed. "Tell me—"
"I can do it."
"It's weird having you touch my foot!" Martin finally cried. Douglas looked at him, one eyebrow half raised. "Well, it is!"
"Feet are far cleaner than hands," Douglas said. "Medical school taught me that."
"You don't often touch my hands either."
"You're swelling up again." Douglas shook his head. He reached behind him and pulled a chair over, then sat down while still holding onto Martin's leg. He propped Martin's ankle on his shoulder and held him in place with a firm grip on his calf. "Rest, ice, compression, and elevation," Douglas said.
Martin was blushing, or about to blush, or maybe just boiling inside his skin, he couldn't tell. "You get to tell Carolyn what you're doing," he said. His bare foot was sitting beside Douglas's face. It was...well, not obscene, but certainly unseemly.
But Carolyn waltzed in happy as a lark. "Trip cancelled! Apparently, our city boy's fiancée has discovered what a colossal arse he is and called it off. Deposit kept, plane safely in the hangar, and you lot can go home and play footsie off the clock. Goodbye!" She sailed out.
Martin sighed. He'd wanted to fly to Prague. He'd never been, and it was lovely in the films. "Just as well, I suppose," he said, trying to cheer himself up. "My ankle would surely swell in the air."
"Definitely," Douglas said. He didn't move.
"You can let me go. I have some work to do on the computer, I'll put my foot up."
"Douglas. You can't just hold me here like a—a—" He didn't have a comparison.
"Please, I'm certainly no kind of model."
"You really don't know what you look like in those jeans, do you?" Douglas said. He drummed his fingers on Martin's calf.
Martin blushed hotly. No doubt about it this time. "I really don't know what you're doing."
"Propositioning you. Hmm, I may have lost my touch if that was at all unclear." Douglas ran his fingers up and down Martin's shin bone and Martin did not know what to do, not even a little.
"Does it usually start with picking someone up and stripping their clothes off?" Martin stammered out, feeling like an idiot as soon as he said it. Douglas didn't even have to answer; he just looked smug. "God. I meant—playing doctor—no, that's not what I meant."
"Would you like to play doctor?"
"No!" But he was picturing himself nude and Douglas in a white coat, examining him and frowning, and his body gave him away with the most enormous hard-on. It actually hurt.
"Your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes. Shall I give you a moment to confer?"
"Please," Martin said. He leaned his head back against the sofa and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. His cheeks were boiling hot. He must have been bright red.
"You have a ripping body under that uniform. I'd no idea," Douglas continued. He stroked circles over Martin's kneecap. "I don't often make passes at men—or coworkers—but I've wanted to bite that arse since yesterday. You needn't do anything too gay if you're not up for it. I enjoy a bit of cock and a hand job in return is entirely acceptable."
"I—um. Don't you think it would be weird? After? To just—well?"
"Weird? Oh, do you mean after a night of blistering sex, would you be awkward and stammer and blush a lot, and would I swan around like a cat locked into a sardine factory? That might happen, yes."
"Fine, shut up, yes."
"I may as well be awkward and get a blow job as be awkward and not get one," Martin muttered. Douglas beamed.
Douglas's flat post-divorce wasn't as bad as Martin's, but it certainly wasn't as nice as his house had been. "I'm sorry," Martin said.
Douglas sounded surprised. "For?"
"Well, for your old house. This flat, it's not very nice."
"Thank you very much," Douglas said, his voice heavy with irony.
Martin realised how rude he'd been at that moment. "I'm really sorry," he said, squeezing his eyes shut briefly.
"Well." Douglas slapped his arse, actually slapped it! "Let's play doctor. I want to examine that swelling in your pants."
"Douglas!" But Martin swung into the bedroom on his crutches (retrieved from the van at Douglas's insistence).
"I'm sure I have a lab coat somewhere..." Douglas followed him.
The bed was clothed in dark blue. The sheets looked crisp and inviting, like they would be smooth and lush against his skin. This wasn't a cruel joke, was it? He thought—well, they were something like friends, weren't they, him and Douglas?
"Get off your feet," Douglas said.
Douglas kept talking about his feet. "Do you have an interest in feet?" Martin blurted out. He sat on the bed.
Douglas raised both eyebrows. "Would you like me to?"
"No! Definitely not!"
"All right then, I don't."
Martin sighed. Douglas stood between Martin's knees and began to unbutton his uniform jacket. "I can do that," Martin said, bringing his hands up. He punched Douglas's hands a bit in his haste.
"I like undressing my partner," Douglas said calmly.
Calm, that was the thing. Martin was bright red, he knew, and sweating under his arms. Which Douglas would smell as soon as he got the jacket off. Oh, god. The jacket was unbuttoned all the way now.
"How do you feel about kissing?" Douglas asked.
"Yes," Martin said. The word bypassed his brain entirely. Douglas sat beside him and kissed him before Martin had the chance to think again. And. And. Mouth. Hand on his chin. Hand on the small of his back, under his jacket, over his shirt. Oh.
Then he was lying on the sheets, grinning. Probably still red. But Douglas was pulling his shirt out of his trousers, then unbuckling his belt, then a little bit later, he was naked, but he really wasn't tracking, because Douglas kept kissing him.
Kissing and kissing him, and touching him, and kissing him. Martin's lips buzzed and his skin was bare and his nipples were tight because Douglas was nibbling one. "The tits on you," Douglas muttered.
"Mm," Martin said.
"This stomach, you can't even appreciate this stomach—if I had your body for just one night," Douglas said into Martin's belly.
"All right," Martin said. He was floating, surrounded by blue. Lovely things kept happening to him, one after the other. Some things were entirely inexplicable, like Douglas biting his stomach or putting his fingers in his underarms or stroking his thighs, but he really couldn't find enough brain to care, because he felt so marvelous.
"Are you awake?" Douglas asked.
Douglas kissed his mouth and Martin wound both arms around his neck. "Mm-hm," Martin agreed.
"I don't want to bore you."
"Yes," Martin agreed.
"Yes, yes!" He opened his eyes and looked up at Douglas. "Yes?"
"Good god. I've removed your powers of speech."
Martin groaned and wrapped his good leg around Douglas's bum, which made Douglas sink his full weight into Martin's body, which in turn made utterly delicious sensations keep happening. "Yes please?"
Douglas kissed him and rubbed against him, which was really just. So much. All he could think was yes, up until his mind sputtered out and his vision dissolved in a shower of sparks.
Martin woke up in broad daylight. He felt as if his body had been turned into bread dough and left to rise. Light, airy, full of bubbles. He smiled into the pillow.
"There you are," Douglas said. He was sitting beside Martin with his back against the headboard, reading a book. He stroked Martin's side from arm to hip. "You're enchanting in bed, did you know that?"
"Enchanting. I haven't seen you smile so much...ever."
Martin rolled over onto his back and beamed. He kissed Douglas's bare thigh beside him. He didn't say anything.
"I do hope you start speaking again eventually, though."
"Yes, all right," Martin said.
Douglas stroked his cheek. "Well. I suppose we could have another round..."
"Then I'll wrap your ankle properly."
"Check your temperature rectally."
"Yes?" Martin wasn't so sure about that.
"Put on your hat and epaulets."
Douglas laughed. He slid down and kissed Martin soundly. "Steal your van," he suggested.
"Please oh yes do," Martin sighed. He stroked his thigh up Douglas's leg. Their cocks kissed, as damp as their mouths, and Douglas squeezed Martin's arse with one hand.
Then Douglas's phone rang. Douglas twitched, but returned to Martin. "Voice mail," he said. He still tensed through the next two rings.
And then Martin's phone rang. "I have to," he said.
"Yes, all right." Douglas rolled upright to retrieve Martin's phone from the floor from him. "Say no, whoever it is. I'll pay you to stay in bed with me."
"I'm not like that! Um, hello, this is Martin Crieff."
"I know, Martin, it's your phone," Carolyn said. Martin grimaced. "And let me see--" Douglas's phone rang. "Hah!" Carolyn crowed. "I knew it. Tell him to pick up."
"It's Carolyn, Douglas, she can hear your phone," Martin said. "I think she has us in a threeway."
Douglas raised his eyebrows. Martin blushed. "Not my first choice," Douglas said. He picked up.
"Drivers! Our city boy has reconsidered! So in addition to his cancellation fee, we will collect his full flight fee and fly him and his girlfriend to Prague. Yes, his girlfriend, which he has in addition to his fiancée. He's entirely repulsive. I shall wash his money thoroughly before placing it in my pocket. So you two, shower off the lascivious coulis and put your uniforms back on. I expect you at the airfield in half an hour." She hung up.
Martin looked at Douglas.
"Threeway, yes," Douglas said. "Was it good for you?"
"What does coulis mean?"
"Thick sauce." Douglas's voice dipped down low. Martin shivered.
"She was certainly in excellent spirits. I wonder if I can get her to overlook our little jaunt yesterday," Douglas mused.
"Do your best to look pathetic when we come in. I may be able to work on her sympathies."
"Honestly, she doesn't have any," Martin said.
"Hmm." He wore his calculating look. "Lie back, let me give you a quick one while I think."
Martin blinked rapidly and threw himself back onto the pillows. And he was still going to Prague! Amazing. Maybe they would make love in the moonlight...
Then Douglas's mouth descended and all thought fled again.