The Cardmaker and the Caretaker - 6. Chapter 6 Sharing bed and breakfast

Patrick walked into the bedroom feeling unusually content considering his mind was on his estranged family, only to have every thought but one driven out of his head. “Oh man, he looks good. Yum. I want some of that!”

Peter was standing at the end of his bed, naked except for a pair of black boxers, and the sight took his breath away.

“I wasn't sure if you prefer one side of the bed, so I thought I'd wait and ask.”

He managed to shake his head and indicate he was indifferent. Peter picked up his duvet and moved to the side closest to the door to the hallway.

“I'll take this side, just in case Michael needs help in the night.” His voice was low, but it was clear he wasn't too worried about waking his son, who was sprawled in the middle of the huge bed, fast asleep.

The cardmaker stayed rooted to the spot a few steps into the room and feasted his eyes on the gorgeous body of his man. The only light came from the corridor behind Patrick and the small bedside spot which had been turned on to the lowest possible setting. But it was enough to reveal Peter in all his glory - well nearly all.

His eyes were drawn to the bulge in the black boxers; the size was impressive even though Peter's manhood was clearly at rest. He couldn't help wondering how large it'd be at full mast and longed to see it uncovered. The two small voices in his head started teasing him immediately.

Patrick dragged his gaze up, only to be caught by the muscular and hairy torso, which did nothing to silence the damned imp or a flustered angel. 'Oh my, he's so manly and strong. Imagine cuddling with him every night! Aren't you lucky!' The tiny angelic figure was jumping up and down in excitement next to the smirking evil counterpart.

But strangely enough he didn't mind the bawdy suggestions flung at him, maybe because he knew they would be real at some point, but not just now. 'He's gonna hold you down and fuck you senseless. But you want it, don't you? You want this big strong Danish Viking to rape, pillage, and plunder your body, eh? To ravage your mouth and your ass and make you ride him until you shoot your spunk all over his hairy chest.'

Inside his head he shouted back, "Yes, that's exactly what I want after I've shoved my dick up his ass and claimed him as mine." He nearly chuckled out loud as the devil’s face contorted in surprise and the imp evaporated in a puff of dust.

Patrick hadn't thought much about whether he'd prefer a hairy man, but he sure considered this specimen to be utterly sexy. Peter only had a fine dusting of blond hair on his arms and legs, and from the glimpse he'd had of his back, it seemed smooth too. But there was a large patch of dark blond curls on his lover's chest as well as a distinct treasure trail, and tufts of hair peeking from his armpits.

His fingers itched to play with the hair and caress the skin over the firm pecs and abs, pinch the nipples and find out if they were sensitive like his. Oh yeah, and he wanted to kiss and smell and bite and...

The sound of a throat being cleared intruded, and Patrick's brown eyes lifted to meet amused blue orbs.

"Do you want me to put a T-shirt on, or is it OK if I sleep like this?"

Patrick blanched then flushed, his whole body going from cold to hot at the realization he was completely busted ogling his semi-naked lover. And even worse: Peter got into bed and stared back with an expectant smile and the awkward truth hit him. He was fully erect and now he was supposed to undress in front of his lover who no doubt looked forward to the show. Why, oh why had he ever agreed to share his bed so soon?

He knew asking for his sexy Dane to close his eyes would be futile, and a small naughty part of him whispered it'd be unfair, too. Peter deserved to see his future husband almost naked and suffer the consequences of unrequited lust and want, just as he would. He bowed his head to hide a grin at the thought of doing – well maybe not a striptease, but a shedding of clothes that would definitely tease and tantalize.

“No, that’s fine. I usually wear a T-shirt as well in order to keep warm. But perhaps I won’t need it in the future.”

Patrick let some of the heat simmering in his guts rise to his eyes as he looked at the handsome man sitting in his bed. Just the thought of sleeping with him from now on was enough to make the cardmaker feel warm all over. The admiration he saw on Peter’s face contributed to his delirious happiness.

No matter he was unused to honest compliments on his looks; Patrick knew his body was trim and well-kept. He despised false modesty just as much as bragging, and shyness and inexperience was his problem, not worry his lover wouldn't find him attractive.

He removed his sweater and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, pausing now and then to sneak a look at Peter. His partner's attention was completely riveted, and he had to bite his lip to avoid laughing. When he shed the shirt and strolled over to chuck it in the laundry basket, he allowed himself a smirk at the deep sigh from the bed.

He kept his back to Peter while he removed his socks and belt and then he turned round and took a couple of steps towards the bed. Casually he scratched his neck with one hand and let it drift down over the central patch of dark fuzz on his otherwise smooth chest, going sideways to graze an erect nipple and continuing down to the button on his trousers.

The expression on Peter's face was well worth it. He did nothing to hide his desire and want, and he was completely enthralled. This was so much fun, he decided he would do anything to keep his man gazing at him like that. Unbuttoning and unzipping had Peter licking his lips and swallowing, and he pinched himself hard to avoid bursting into a laugh.

He began pushing his trousers down, exposing a distinct treasure trail, but suddenly turned his back as if shy. But of course this just meant his ass was on display and in a pair of rather tight briefs too. A quick peek over his shoulder after he'd dropped his trousers and bent over to remove them showed Peter's gaze was fixed as expected.

Patrick didn't quite wriggle his butt as he walked back to the laundry basket, but he sure felt like doing a small victory dance. He looked down and adjusted his hard-on so it was pointing towards his right hip and in no danger of escaping the confining briefs, despite its ample length. Then he turned around and walked to his side of the bed as if he was oblivious to the fact Peter was ogling his package and literally panting at the sight.

Deciding to get one last tease in before getting under cover, he paused at the edge of the bed. “Like what you see?”

He tightened his stomach muscles knowing his lack of body fat would make his abs stand out in sharp detail. He almost recoiled at the heated look it earned him.

Peter's blue eyes held his and Patrick's dick lurched and shed a tear of joy at the unbridled lust which rolled in waves from the blond man. The answer to the question came not in words, but by Peter removing the duvet hiding his crotch. The unexpected flashing only lasted a few seconds, but long enough for his gaze to take in what he'd already suspected. Even though Peter's boxers weren’t very tight, they only barely contained his engorged manhood.

The cardmaker quickly slid beneath his duvet, and Peter switched off the light. A whispered goodnight drifted across, both of them aware a kiss was too dangerous after the dual display.

Even though Patrick was tired, he couldn't relax enough to sleep. The vision kept intruding, and he fluctuated between aching desire and a touch of fear. He'd never seen any porn or picture that made him so eager to masturbate, and the frustration he couldn't was driving him crazy. Outlined by the soft black boxers even the short flash had left no doubts that Peter's erect manhood was large. It was perhaps not as long as his dick but definitely thicker.

Not obscenely or impossibly so, but enough to make him worry about the potential pain associated with penetration and having Peter take his virginity. Which he was still passionately determined to initiate as soon as possible. But maybe he should buy a bigger dildo first. His dick launched another blob of pre-cum into his briefs at the thought.

He might be inexperienced with actual sex, but for the past four years he'd owned a couple of sex toys. Once he'd acknowledged getting laid casually was not going to happen, he'd bought a dildo to expand and improve his lonely self-gratification. No one was here to find out and judge him, and at least he'd be better prepared, if he did meet Mr. Right. Except the toy resembling his own dick in girth, while being a challenge for the first many sessions, was nowhere near what he faced now, or soon. Hopefully.

Thus he acknowledged the need for something larger to practice with. Once this concept was firmly entrenched, the next one popped into his head. 'Maybe Peter would like to help.'

The vision which replaced that of Peter lying in his bed with an impressive boner just from watching his lover undress, was even more compelling; Patrick naked on all fours with Peter behind him pushing a large dildo into his ass, while both men jerked off. ‘Oh yes, I want…’

He had barely indulged in the fantasy for two minutes before the inevitable happened. There were only scant moments to react, but he managed to get his hand into his briefs in time. He bit into his pillow to prevent his cries of ecstasy from escaping as his balls unloaded several blasts of cum into his palm. His whole body shuddered as the most intense orgasm he'd had for months swept through him.

It was like having a wet dream while still conscious, but at least he wouldn't wake with soaked underwear. Luckily, he was on his side with his back to Michael and Peter, and he carefully milked the last drops into his palm before bringing the hand to his mouth to dispose of the evidence.

Once he'd calmed down a bit, he turned over on his back to sneak a look at his bedfellows. The steady breathing and small snuffling noises of Michael had already reassured him the boy was asleep. For a moment he thought Peter was too, and the incident would remain secret.

But then his lover lifted his head. “Patrick, did you just...”

The sentence was left unfinished probably in case Michael woke up. But the incredulous tone left no doubt he was busted once again.

“Ehm yes. I'm sorry. I ... eh ... I have a vivid imagination. It was an accident, I didn't mean to. It just sort of happened. I didn't even touch ... ehm you know.”

Which was the truth, but he'd flexed his hips enough to create friction against his underwear and the fold of bedding against his groin.

“Sorry. Anyway, it was your fault. If you hadn't removed the duvet...”

Suddenly a hand came over and punched his shoulder lightly. Love and awe shone in the fond words.

“Don't apologize. I'm proud that having me in your bed will cause such a stunning response. I'm envious too. And I may have to take a quick trip to the bathroom. Do you need a towel or something?”

At the whispered reply that he'd solved the problem 'manually and orally' Peter groaned and fled the room. In less than five minutes he was back and slipped under the covers again with a relieved sigh. This time their goodnights were soon followed by blissful sleep.

---

The next morning Patrick woke to the unfamiliar sounds of two voices whispering behind his back. In his sleepy state he tried to work out what was going on but apart from his name the words were mostly unintelligible. Weird – oh no wait, he had two Danes in his bed, one small and cute, and one big and hot. Very hot. Ehmm, maybe he shouldn't think about that, or he'd have some serious morning wood to contend with.

He lifted his head to see what the time was, and grunted as a slight body impacted him from behind.

“Good morning, Patrick. Breakfast, please?”

He was smiling even before he turned over and saw Michael's blue eyes and happy grin. The boy was clearly proud he'd managed to communicate in English. Behind him Peter was wearing an even wider smile and Patrick's heart beat faster at the sight of his handsome guy.

'Oh man, that's just what I want to wake up to every morning, Peter smiling at me. Oh and maybe a kiss and a cuddle. Preferably naked and...'

He stopped that train of thoughts once more, knowing where they'd most likely lead. Instead he spoke to eager face in front of him: “Yes, breakfast. Pancakes?”

“Pandekager.” The translation had Michael squealing with delight and jumping up and down. Right then he didn't look like a child with a heart condition, but Patrick knew from Peter's random remarks and his own observations that the thin boy tired easily.

The real danger was infections and anything else which put an undue strain on his body. His heart wasn't up to dealing with extra work, but if he rested frequently, ate well and stayed healthy apart from his cardiac issue, he'd be OK. Well, maybe not OK, but safe and capable of going through the treatment which would hopefully cure his condition.

As Patrick cooked pancakes, his own lonely heart moved further along the road to full recovery. He had loved eating breakfast with his parents in the large but cosy kitchen, and the sturdy wooden table was one of the pivotal places of the house and his memories. Having his own brand new family fill the empty space with homey noises created a warm, contented glow in his guts, no matter he was unable to understand the words.

Every time Peter came over to the stove to pick up another pancake, he'd touch him. A caress on his hair, a kiss on his ear, a hug around his shoulder or waist, and often accompanied by a quiet, “I love you.” Or “Delicious, min ven.”

To Patrick, who'd seen his parents exchange similar unobtrusive signs of love, it confirmed giving his heart to this man had been the right choice.

He was pleased the Dane didn't hesitate to be affectionate in front of his young son, but it added another bullet to the long list of subjects he had to discuss with his partner. Did Michael know his father liked men – or rather Patrick in specific? If he had never had a serious relationship before, the matter probably hadn't come up. How would the boy react to living in England permanently? And what would they do about school? Maybe a private tutor would be best, and...

This was the point where his internal angel began scolding. 'You need to stop getting ahead of yourself and agonizing about matters on your own. Talk to your partner about it.'

He frowned, but couldn't deny he had a tendency to worry about potential problems or concern himself over the future.

'You may not have had anyone to rely on for almost five years, but you're in a relationship now. You can share the joys and burdens with your soulmate.'

The term had the cardmaker go all soppy inside, and in his vision the angel smirked.

Suddenly a firm body was in front of him and he was startled out of his musings. At this point he'd finished cooking and was busy with the washing up. As usual Peter took care of the drying, and Michael had disappeared to watch cartoons.

Patrick realized he'd paused in his task when his partner asked, “What were you thinking of just now? You had the most delightful expression on your face, and you were looking at me as if I was a box of your favourite Valentine chocolates.”

The cardmaker was mesmerized by the soft lips and next thing he knew he was moulded to a warm body, fingers entwined in blond locks, and busy stealing kisses from his lover. Peter gave as good as he got and both men forgot everything else as they indulged in mutual tongue play.

Only to be interrupted by a giggle: “Er I kærester nu, far?”[1]

He felt the worst blush ever begin, as they separated and turned to look at Michael. He was standing next to them, and Patrick was glad to see the boy seemed unperturbed by sight of his dad kissing another man.

He was holding an empty glass and had probably returned to get more juice. At least this gave him an excuse to slip away and let Peter deal with whatever his son had said. He kept an eye on them as he went to the fridge and grabbed the juice.

“Ja, det er vi. Er du OK med at få Patrick som papfar?”[2]

He knew Ja meant yes, and understood OK and his name. It was clear Peter had confirmed their relationship. He picked up his son and hugged him, and they whispered together for a bit.

Then they looked at Patrick and waved him over. He was pulled into the embrace of his family, and Michael held on to both of them, hugging them tight around their necks. Patrick sighed contentedly as he once more felt safe and loved and wanted. He sent up a small prayer of thanks to their patron saint together with a wish for happily ever after. 'For all of us please...'

Rest assured; Michael was fast asleep during the whole thing – in case you wondered.  
You should read the last footnote in order to understand the beginning of the next chapter.