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"This is so dire," Bradley whispered loudly in Colin's ear. "If he really threw a sword around that way he'd chop his own head off, or something."

Colin kept his eyes on the screen, more to irritate Bradley than anything else, and shrugged. "It's alright."

"It really isn't." Bradley's tongue brushed all-too-briefly against Colin's ear lobe. His breath was hot.

"Interesting take on the story," Colin whispered. "Shut up and watch it."

Bradley slumped back in his seat in a sulk, and grabbed a handful of Maltesers from the bucket that rested precariously on the armrest between their seats.

"Shit, they're melted," he complained. Colin was about to shush him, when he realised that Bradley was very slowly and methodically licking chocolate from his hand. His palm, his fingers, his thumb. He wasn't looking at Colin, or the film; he was just licking.

Oh God.

"I think they maybe taste better this way," Bradley murmured.

A woman in the row in front of them turned around and glared. Normally Colin would have been mortified. But all he could think was God, Bradley's tongue and wait til I get him home and fuck, I want him to cover my dick in chocolate and lick it all offand if we left now we could be back at the hotel in twenty minutes.

"What?" Bradley said. "Is there something on my face?"

Colin swallowed, hard.

"Watch the film, Colin."

"I was-"

Bradley leaned in close again. There was an odd sort of smile on his face. Kind of wicked. "I said, watch the film."

Colin got a waft of Bradley's aftershave (subtle, clean, like sunwarmed skin), swallowed again, and forced himself to turn his head back to the screen. There was some talking. It didn't make any sense; however hard Colin tried to focus, the words still slipped through his consciousness, just the rhythm and the tone, jarring accents and harsh noises, none of it intelligible through the lust that fluttered like butterflies in his belly and twitched his cock hard and made him want to whine at Bradley until they could go home and do unspeakable things to each other until morning.

Bradley's hand rested on his, and Colin smiled.

Bradley's fingers circled Colin's wrist, teasing at his pulse, one of the secret places Bradley had discovered that turned Colin to a quivering mess.

Bradley drew Colin's wrist to his lips, and kissed him there. Licked him there.

Colin's eyes slid shut. His breath was coming short. He wondered distantly if his legs would actually support him if he stood up, or just turn to jelly.

Bradley's lips slid over Colin's fingertips, sucked them one at a time into his mouth, tongue swirling over each in turn.

"Bradley." Colin's voice came out tight and strangled, pretty much a whine.

"Shhh. Watch the film."

Colin gave a rather pathetic little whimper.

"Go on." Bradley nodded towards the screen.


Bradley gave him a commanding, almost-Arthur look, and Colin tried his best to keep his eyes on the screen.

Bradley kept hold of Colin's wrist, still licking his fingers. His other hand landed in Colin's lap.

Colin jumped.

Bradley barely stifled a laugh, and Colin found himself giggling helplessly, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth to muffle the sound. It didn't stop the woman in front of them from turning around to give them another disapproving glare.

"Sorry," Bradley purred at her, full of charm. She turned back to the movie and Bradley shifted around, nose brushing Colin's as he whispered, "now, behave, Morgan. Not another word out of you. We don't want to disturb our fellow movie-goers, do we? Bad enough they have to sit through the terrible swordfighting."

Colin would have protested that if Bradley would stop licking and touching, and pressing his long fingers along the bulge in Colin's trousers, he would be only too happy to be a perfectly-behaved cinema patron (because he always was). But Bradley wasn't stopping any of those things; in fact he sealed Colin's fate by kissing him. And oh, fuck, he tasted of chocolate and sugar and his tongue was warm and wet and sliding along the length of Colin's, and Colin couldn't breathe and didn't care, winding his fingers in Bradley's hair, leaning back and giving himself over to whatever his so-called friend (boyfriend? lover? who the fuck knew or cared at that moment?) wanted to do to him.

People snogged in cinemas all the time, Colin told himself. This was no different. It was dark. Half-empty. They had the back row to themselves. People were watching the film, which was being conveniently loud at that moment, all clanging swords and soaring music, the grunts and groans of battle and-

-Bradley was pulling down the zip on Colin's jeans.

Colin didn't dare speak. He stared at Bradley in amazement and horror and mouthed 'Bradley!' with all the mime skills he could muster, but all Bradley did was grin wickedly at him and slide his hand inside. Underwear was shoved roughly out of the way and suddenly there was Bradley's skin on Colin's skin and stroking and petting and Colin's eyes slid shut and his brain slid shut and his closed his fingers around Bradley's arm and clung on.

He was dimly aware of a rustle and distant rattle and thump and Bradley murmured, "shit, Maltesers, sorry," and Colin held his breath in case anyone turned around, not daring to look....

"'s okay, Morgan," Bradley whispered. "You're safe. Trust me."

"Have you got your eyes open?" Colin breathed.

"Er, yes," said Bradley. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Good. Because I'm not sure I can oh."

"God. You." Bradley's touch was bliss, soft stroking building to bold exploration and a bright, gritty friction that was just what Colin needed.

His head was full of battle sounds and the sort of music that makes your heart swell with the noble tradgedy of war, and the sound of Bradley's breath in his ear. Colin couldn't stop his hips from rocking, shoving up against Bradley's broad, damp palm; had to bite down hard on his lower lip to stop himself crying out.

"So fucking beautiful," Bradley said, voice tight and harsh, panting. "Such a slut for me, eh Morgan?"

"Fuck off," Colin said, hoping it wasn't too loud but completely unable to tell anymore. Maybe it was because Bradley kissed him, sucked on the tip of his tongue, teeth clashing and everything wet and desperate until suddenly Colin's balls clenched tight and he knew he couldn't stop. He just managed to gasp out, "please," not really even sure what he was asking for, and then he was pressing against Bradley as hard as he could; cock against his hand; forehead against his neck; thigh against his thigh because his legs were spread wide, and he was coming, how the fuck did he ever... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck....

Bradley kept his mouth on Colin's, kept things still until Colin's climax released him and his muscles were going lax and warm, and then they kissed, soft and slow this time, Bradley taking his time to soothe every bit of Colin's mouth, finally pulling back with a last, wet kiss to Colin's lower lip.

Colin dared to open his eyes.

It was dark, quiet apart from the violins coming over the sound system - gratuitous love scene - and Bradley was....

Colin stared through the dark.

Bradley was licking his hand clean. Slowly and methodically licking Colin's come from his hand. His palm, his fingers, his thumb. Colin could smell it, wondered in a sudden moment of panic if the whole theatre could smell it.

The fear must have shown on his face, because Bradley kissed him again, nuzzled at his cheek and whispered, "it's okay. No-one noticed."


"Quite sure. You missed a pretty good battle, though. There was an explosion and everything."


"The old 'discovering gunpowder two hundred years too early' trick."

Colin chuckled softly.

"Anyway, you owe me a tub of Maltesers."


"Don't play the innocent with me, Morgan. That was totally all your fault."

Bradley shifted back in his seat, adjusting his jeans as he did so. Colin couldn't fail to notice the significant bulge that lay there. The film was barely halfway through: it would be very uncomfortable for Bradley if he was stuck like that until the end.

Bradley was right, too. The film was pretty dire.

"I'm going for a piss," he said. "You coming?"

"Need me to hold it for you, Morgan?"

"More like you need me to hold yours."

Colin took a moment to relish the way Bradley's eyes widened, the way his throat moved when he swallowed, adams apple bobbing.

"Fair's fair," said Colin, and then as they were sliding out of their seats to head for the door, he leaned in and whispered, "play your cards right, you might get Maltesers on the way back."

"I know a good trick with a Malteser," said Bradley. "Play your cards right and I might show you."

"Fuck off, James," said Colin, amicably, and the doors of the auditorium swung closed behind them.