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The Red Carpet

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I watched the Imitation Game Red carpet from home; fast internet connection and no rain. We'd had this discussion before; I wasn’t particularly interested attending the red carpet events and Ben was always focussed on what had to happen and when. Apart from the chance to sit in a darkened theatre holding hands, there was nothing to attract me, so he invariably went alone. Ben looked fantastic on his way out the door in denim shirt and trousers, his more formal outfit for the red carpet draped over his arm for later. I promised I’d wait up for him.

His only oversight when he'd left was an umbrella; the weather had been clear and we foolishly assumed it would stay that way.....Until the heavens opened and down it came.

Press calls, photo ops and a Twitter Q&A later, we'd both finished our work for the day. The housework done, I'd settled into the study with a bottle of wine to watch the BFI Red Carpet YouTube feed. He called for a brief chat between signing endless autographs in the rain before heading inside for a chance to sit down while during the screening


Hours later, after the VIP event, he finally stepped through the door to our foyer, clear plastic umbrella in hand and tapping the point on the tiles inside the front door. I pulled open the door to our flat and to the chorus of Singing in the Rain, he started a ridiculous dance towards me.

“Good evening, sir, won’t be needing that umbrella anymore,” I took it from him and tucked it with the others in the base of the hat-stand, “You’re getting a collection of these,”

“I'll open a 2nd hand umbrella business when money gets tight.” a swift kiss as he walked past me and headed up the stairs to change in the bedroom, tripping on the first and laughing as he grabbed the railing.

“You've had more than a few,” I laughed.

“Not me,” he shook his head as I ran up the stairs towards him.

“.....and you are saturated,” I mused, taking his top lip between mine.

“Now THAT, I am,” He pressed full length against me, the damp from his clothes seeping through my robe.

“At least we can agree on one thing,” I nodded, “Better get you out of these before you catch a cold,” I led him by the hand up the remaining steps to the master bedroom.

“We should, shouldn’t we?”

“Uh-huh,” I pushed his jacket off and started on his waistcoat, “Can I get you a drink, Sir, before we proceed? Perhaps a small celebratory libation?”

“No, no, no, if I have anymore I’m afraid my encore performance won't be to rave reviews.”

I snorted, “Oh I doubt that very much,”

“Alright, go fetch a bottle of red.”

“Wait right there,” I tapped him in the centre of his chest, “Right there,”

He stood glued to the spot while I ran back downstairs to fetch a bottle and two clean glasses.

Cork pulled and drinks poured, the clink of glasses accompanied a small toast before the contents disappeared swiftly. I had one hand around the stem of a glass and the other one unbuttoning a shirt stuck to his skin. “What’d you do, stand under a hydrant tonight?”

“Yes, yes I did.” he announced proudly.

“Right,” I took his empty glass and placed it next to mine, “Now...." I dropped my voice, letting my hands slide downward along his still damp skin, "let’s see what we can do about Mr. Benny-dick,”

Ben snorted and roared with laughter, “Really, I don’t think he’ll be in the mood to talk.”

“Let's let him be the judge of that. I can be quite persuasive,” I tugged lightly at his zip, undoing his pants and freeing him from his boxer briefs, “Oh!" I said in mock surprise, "Look at what we have here!”

I took several steps back to look at him standing in the centre of our bedroom, naked but for the pair of briefs I'd left him in. I looked him up and down, watching him watch me appreciate every inch exposed.

As I placed a hand either side of his neck and kissed his mouth hungrily, forcing his lips apart with mine and invading his mouth with my tongue, his return efforts of his tongue told me that what I was doing was more than acceptable. A firm grip and he held me by my waist, fingers digging into my skin, massaging greedily as my thumbs stroked his face.

I pulled away from his mouth and continued to kiss him; on the cheek, a nibble of the ear, his jaw line, throat and shoulder all got attention, stopping at his collarbone. I held onto his backside, pulling his body flush up against mine, feeling the strain against the thin cotton of his underwear.

Slowly I bent my knees, kissing his chest, taking a nipple gently between my lips as I moved down to his pecs, then down paying attention to taut muscles and his navel surrounded by fine dark hair; I continued until I was on my knees in front of him.

I left a trail of kisses from his hip, across his stomach and down towards his cock, pulling his briefs down around his knees as I went. His cock sprang free of its confines and I looked up to him, his eyes heavy and breath ragged. I looked at his cock, bobbing slightly at the anticipation of what was coming, and then back up at him with a soft smile of triumph as I took him in my mouth, all of him from root to tip. His hands slumped at his sides; I took one and softly placed it on the back of my head, his fingers curling into my hair instantly.

I took him all the way again, flicking the base of his cock gently with my tongue, his hips thrusting into my mouth in a quick reflex. I did it again, smiling around him between my lips, amused by his reflex.

I pulled back and he slipped out of my mouth with a pop, “Good?”

All I got in return was a strangled groan and a gentle clench of fingers in my hair as he pushed my head back into his crotch. This time I took my time, circling his crown with my tongue, fist wrapped around him, stroking him with a firm grip. I kept my spare hand on his hip, fingers dug into flesh, and he rested his spare hand atop of mine, holding gently, one hand still on the back of my head.

He tasted of salt and smelt of body wash as I held his cock up and licked him in one continuous motion from the base and stopping at the frenulum, circling with the tip of my tongue. He shuddered with a gasp and, so, I did it again, smiling up at him the whole time.

“That is fucking hot,” he managed.

“What is?” I kissed his shaft as I stroked him.

“You are,”

“Good,” I teased.

A little bit more light teasing and licking before I took him again for the final stretch, letting him create his own rhythm. I had my hand tightly around his shaft and matched his rhythm with my mouth, controlling the depth so as not to gag unexpectedly. A tightened grip on my hand told me he wasn’t far off, I paused stilling his movement, and pulled off.

“No, no, no,” he groaned.

“No?” I teased, nuzzling into his soft pubic hair.

“Please, please,” he panted, “Please, Oh christ...please..”

Taking pity on him begging turned to swearing, I took his entire length in one motion and swallowed around the head, helping him to his end, a warm, saltine rush filling my mouth. I continued to suck and swallowed what he offered, his hand gripping mine tightly as one final thrust of his hips brought a shudder and more swearing.

I pulled away gently, licking gently as he pulled back from my mouth, a giggle escaping me.

“What?” he seemed confused.

“That, sir, may very well be a BAFTA winning performance,”

“Well, yes,” he cleared his throat, “I would like to thank the Academy and my partner who is always supportive of my performances,” he was laughing, already refilling a glass to charge, “and for always pushing me just that bit harder,”

“Commitment is essential,” we’d descended into giggles again, “to ensuring a quality performance,”

“Shit,” he laughed, “I need to go out more often,”