The Cardmaker and the Caretaker - 8. Chapter 8 For richer, for poorer

It’s better to ask and be honest in new relationships.
Some sexy and sentimental stuff happening.  

When they arrived at the house, Peter carried Michael directly upstairs to get him ready for bed. Patrick helped Grethe with her coat, and after she had used the downstairs bathroom, she asked him to show her around the house.

“I saw it earlier today, of course, but it’s better with the owner’s first-hand knowledge,” she explained. “Michael was most enthusiastic about showing me the large TV and his favourite chair.”

They both chuckled, and Patrick opened the door to the guest room where Peter and his son had stayed the first night. He had more or less decided to suggest she could take over the room by tomorrow, but wanted to talk it over with Peter first.

“This is a nice room, lots of space. Do you often have guests staying?”

“No, Peter and Michael were my first.”

She gave him a quick curious glance, but didn’t say anything. He closed the door and walked across the hall to the living room.

“I haven’t really changed much in here since my parents died,” he said as he switched on the light in the living room. He tried to see the place with the eyes of a stranger, but everything was too familiar and comfortable.

“It’s a lovely room; they must have had excellent taste. And such beautiful pictures, especially this one with the autumn leaves.” She walked straight over to the sofa to admire the framed artwork, and he smiled with joy at her genuine reaction.

Most of the pictures were originals of good quality by upcoming painters, or limited number reproductions by established artists, nothing extravagant or too valuable. It had been the one luxury his father had permitted himself, or so Patrick had thought at the time. He had accompanied his dad to countless galleries where they had discussed colours and composition, and occasionally bought something if they both liked it.

He could draw tolerably well, but he would never be a painter or artist that way. His skills lay elsewhere, but the understanding and appreciation of art and techniques in general were useful. More importantly, those expeditions were treasured memories of his father, and each piece of art reminded him of enjoyable times. They weren’t all displayed in the living room, and sometimes he would change them round. There were even a few stacked away the locked room upstairs, and a couple hung at the shop.

He walked over to stand next to Grethe. “I created this whirl of leaves last autumn, but most of the pictures were bought by my dad. He taught me how to make cards and other things.”

“Was he an artist?”

“No, an accountant. Making cards was his hobby. My mum was a nurse.”

Belatedly, he recalled his duty as a host. “Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?”

“Tea would be nice.”

He led the way to the kitchen, and she sat down at the table and looked around with obvious pleasure. She didn’t say anything, until they were both seated across from each other, sipping from mugs of milky tea. He had set out a mug for Peter, but waited with pouring till he joined them.

“I can tell this is the heart of the house,” Grethe said quietly.

“Yes, I spent most of my time here, when I wasn’t upstairs with my dad in our workroom. My mum loved to cook and bake, and I’d sit here and do my homework or simply talk with her. On Sunday mornings we’d all enjoy a long, leisurely breakfast together. I look forward to having those again with you, Michael, and Peter.”

“You don’t mind me invading your kitchen? Has Peter told you I enjoy cooking?”

“No, but I’m happy to hear it. I can cook, but I’m not terribly fond of it. I’m going to buy a dishwasher, and if you want anything else done or you miss any implements, let me know. ”

“Thank you, dear. Let me get used to the kitchen as it is, before I start making any changes. I’ll have a look around tomorrow, and write my suggestions down. I might want to get a few things from back home, if Peter has room for them.”

Just then her nephew walked into the kitchen. “What do you want me to do, Moster?”

“Include some of my kitchen things with your stuff, if I need them. Nothing bulky, just a few odds and ends, unless Patrick has something similar, of course.”

“Sure, no problem, make a list.” Peter sat down next to him after pouring tea into his mug.

“I just realized. You must both have homes in Denmark, and you didn’t know about relocating to London until three days ago. How can you suddenly move over here? Won’t it cost you a lot of money to get out of the lease or something?”

They both smiled at him, and Grethe was first to answer. “You’re kind to feel concern, but it’s actually fairly easy for me. After my husband died three years ago, I sold our house and bought a small apartment. One of my nieces on his side of the family has recently begun studying in Copenhagen. She and her boyfriend would like to live together, and they will rent the place. Anything they don’t want to use, they will pack into boxes for storage. Same for the furniture, but since they don’t have much I think they will want to keep most of it.”

“My apartment is rented and I only have to give one month’s notice. They have plenty of people on the waiting list, and since I paid three months’ rent as deposit, I should get some money back even after paying for cleaning, painting, and any repairs. Because I don’t have to find a place to live over here, my financial situation is a lot better than I expected. So don’t worry about it.”

This was exactly what Anthony had pointed out too, so Patrick nodded his understanding.

“I originally intended to rent a furnished place and only bring our personal belongings. Annika has promised to help pack our clothes, books and Michael’s toys and dispose of the furniture. I’m going back on Thursday and I’ll bring as much as I can carry and have the rest shipped by air freight. It should arrive next week, and I can include whatever you want, Moster. We can also have more of your belongings brought over later, if you need it.”

“I haven’t decided how long I’m staying after Michael gets well, since that depends on Alice. I may want to go back to Denmark for some weeks during the summer, and I can either stay with Marianne, or rent a summer house, or be at my own apartment if the young people are away on holiday.”

“Marianne’s my mum,” Peter explained. “If Michael is doing well, I’d love for all of us to spend some time in Denmark together this summer.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’d like that, and I usually close the shop for all of July anyway. I’m sure I can extend the period if we want to.” He didn’t see any need to tell them about his yearly retreats to remote places where he would rent a cottage with every amenity and go for long hikes in the scenery, be it mountains, seashores or forests.

“You know, Michael hasn’t talked about his school or his friends at home today, except for vague plans about his two best friends visiting and being shown ‘all the cool stuff in London’. He seems to be fully committed to your new life in England.” She turned from Peter to him. “And I have to say, your house is much nicer and more comfortable than anything we could have found. Not to mention how convenient it is for Peter’s work, the hospital and your shop.”

“Yes, we’re all lucky in that respect,” Patrick conceded.

The rest of the evening was spent in casual talk, hearing about Peter’s new job and talking more about plans for the next week. Moster Grethe left around ten, saying she was tired after a long day and from her point of view it was eleven at night. Peter walked her up to the hotel, while Patrick tidied up and got ready for bed.

Once again, Michael had made it clear he expected his daddy and papa to join him in sleeping upstairs. As Patrick sat in the chair and watched the boy sprawling in the middle of his bed, he tried to come up with a solution which would prevent another mishap like last night.

He heard Peter come in, lock the door and check the kitchen before ascending the stairs. When the handsome blond came into the bedroom, he stood up and went over to hug him.

“I wondered if you’d like to take a shower together?”

He felt Peter twitch against him; his lover dragged him into the hall and had him up against the wall, kissing him senseless.

“You know I would, you naughty man. I’m hard and leaking just imagining you naked in the shower.”

Patrick knew it was true, he could feel the thick bar of steel sliding against his own erect manhood.

“But I want you too much. If we get naked together, I’ll want to suck you and make love to you. Or the other way round. I want to taste you, love. Lick you all over; open your tight rosebud with my tongue and my fingers, before I slide my cock into your irresistible ass.”

Peter’s mouth kept nuzzling at his neck as the seductive whispers filled his ear. Somehow the two men managed to grind against each other, and when a strong hand cupped his butt and seeking fingers pressed into the crevice, Patrick couldn’t hold back.

The images in his head and the intimate touch of his lover overwhelmed him and wet pulses of semen filled his briefs as he came hard. Moments later Peter moaned and the rhythmic thrusts of his pelvis showed he’d gone over the edge too.

Silence except for heavy panting, while both men tried to cope with the aftermath of the unexpected ecstasy.

Peter recovered first. “I love you. I loved making you come. So much I did too, but I guess you noticed.”

Patrick nodded and mumbled yes into the shoulder supporting his head. He was quite grateful they both creamed their pants. Somehow, it absolved him from any shame which might have ensued from being able to orgasm from his lover painting erotic pictures with his voice. Oh, the close body contact helped too, but he was painfully aware he’d have climaxed sooner or later from listening to Peter spell out exactly what was in store once they got naked. The mere thought of his man without clothes had him hardening again, and he gasped.

Peter released him with one last kiss. “Why don’t you shower first? I need to go downstairs for clean underwear. I’ll shower down there, once you’re done.”

He nodded and ducked back into the bedroom to grab a new t-shirt and briefs. His shower was fast and he rinsed the soaked briefs and left them hanging on the faucet. Since his jeans were stained inside with cum too, he bundled them with his socks and shirt and took them back to the bedroom to drop in the laundry basket. Tomorrow would be a good day to get some laundry done.

For some reason, he didn’t feel comfortable getting into the bed without Peter being present. He put on his bathrobe and spent the waiting time sorting out two loads of clothes. Just as he finished, his hunky Dane entered the bedroom.

Soon they were lying on either side of the bed looking at each other over the peacefully sleeping boy. He noted they’d both chosen to wear T-shirts which helped keep his mind off sexy matters.

“I’m grateful you’re eager for us to be intimate. And I promise not to make you wait too long.” Peter’s voice held a longing which had him growing hot. “I actually went to a private clinic today and paid double for them to do the tests fast.”

Was Patrick weird for thinking this was a romantic gesture? Maybe, but he also appreciated Peter’s ability to be honest and down-to-earth about these matters.

“I’m not worried about HIV, as I’ve been tested twice since I was last with anyone. I haven’t had symptoms of any venereal diseases, but I know some of them can be dormant for years. I’d never forgive myself, if I gave you something.”

The serious look on his face showed he was sincere. “I’ll only desire you for the rest of my life, and I want no barriers to our lovemaking.”

Patrick heartily agreed. He wanted everything, lots of it, and as soon as possible. “I want the same.”

Suddenly a small grin appeared and the blue eyes twinkled. “I guess the next part of our talk is the big deal. I’ll confess first, if you promise to be honest too.”

He immediately knew what they were heading for as the two silly beings in his head popped up and chorused ‘top, bottom or versatile?' Crossing his fingers he waited for his lover to reveal his preference.

“Okay, I suppose you’ve guessed I like to top?”

Patrick nodded.

“Well, the few times I’ve gone all the way with a man, I gave. I’m as inexperienced as you are when it comes to receiving. Oh, and I’m just as eager to change my status.”

Patrick couldn’t help the satisfied smirk slowly appearing. The tiny angel in his head fluttered excitedly ‘ohh how sweet, you’ll be his first too’, while the bawdy imp fell over laughing. ‘Better get out the dildo and see if he runs away. I wager nothing larger than a finger ever made it into Mr. Valentine’s virgin ass.’

He realized Peter was waiting anxiously for an answer and got a grip on himself. “I want to give and receive too, so I guess we’re both versatile, right?”

A huge grin lit up his lover’s face and he pumped his arm in a triumphant ‘yes’ gesture.

The brunet decided to push a bit. “Are you sure you’ll like to be – ahh to bottom? Have you tried toys – ehm like a dildo?”

He checked an extra time to be sure Michael was fast asleep before whispering the last word. So far their bed talk had excluded any obvious erotic terms, but he was pretty sure words like sex, dildo, condoms and fuck would transcend the language barrier. No need to run any risk if the boy suddenly woke.

The stunned expression on Peter’s face had his partner struggling to suppress a laugh. Even better when he choked out, “No, have you?” and Patrick nodded.

The compelling blue eyes went huge and moments later filled with such lust, he knew they were both erect and desperate for a relieving touch.

“I… I think, we’d better not continue with this topic right now,” he suggested.

Peter swallowed and his blush was both cute and hot. “But you can be sure we’ll take it up, once we’re alone.”

“Speaking of which,” he cleared his throat, “I guess we have to talk about more permanent sleeping arrangements.”

They both looked at the sleeping boy, knowing he’d probably need to share their bed many times in the difficult months to come. But he needed his own room too.

“You know I’m thrilled you’re moving in, but I have one condition. I’m making this into Michael’s room and we’ll have our bedroom next door. And I’m paying to have it done exactly the way he wants, no matter what. Including a flat screen TV and a PS4 or whatever he’d like. You’ll have to ask him and maybe take pictures of his room in Denmark if he needs this to be similar. For our room you can either let me chose, or tell me your wishes and let me incorporate them. I’m hoping Moster Grethe will use the guest room downstairs, but I have another plan as well.”

While Peter sputtered the expected objections about costs and spoiling his son, he lined up the important part of his confession. Once his partner came to a halt, the cardmaker took over.

“You had no way of knowing, but I’m rather wealthy. Apart from owning this house I have a large fortune in secure stocks and other funds, and my main income is interest from the capital. The card making covers the cost of my business, but only because I own the shop premises. I can’t make a living out of my hobby, although I did turn a small profit last year.”

His partner had gone pale and quiet, and Patrick hated to see the confident Viking turn unsure by the insignificant matter of money. At least, he considered worldly goods secondary to friendship and love, and he hoped Peter felt the same.

“Please don’t be upset. Making cards was a way to fill my empty life with creating beauty the way my dad taught me. I love using my talent and I’ll keep the shop, but with much shorter opening hours, and maybe I’ll hire an assistant. I can work at home, too. The room next door used to be my dad’s workroom and mine.”

He took a deep breath.

“You and Michael are my family now. You are the most important part of my life and I’m going to do my best to make you happy. Please understand this, Peter. I hated my wealth because I inherited the money when my parents died. And most of my relatives were either angry, envious or tried to con me for funds. Having my card shop was a consolation which eventually made the situation bearable. But for the first time ever I’m glad to be rich, since it’ll let me help you relocate. If nothing else, think of Michael and how we need to do our best to ease his next year. Once he’s well and has settled, I promise I’ll stop spoiling him. Well, almost.”

The only way he managed to deliver this long speech without any tears escaping was to keep a tight lid on his emotions. At the end he tried a small grin and was relieved to see Peter smile in return. The blond hunk reached over and took his hand. A small part of him filed away the interesting information that his lover’s touch could soothe or excite according to the circumstances, but never failed to bring a sense of caring and being safe. The rest of his mind clung to every word uttered.

“I meant what I said yesterday. I guess I should have included ‘for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health’. My feelings for you are the same, and the offer you made means everything to me for the care and love it shows for my son and for me. Your heart, soul, mind, and body are all the riches I need, and my purpose in life is to make you and Michael happy. If you spending money on him does the trick, who am I to object?”

Both men managed to laugh and a few chaste kisses helped restore calm and pave the way for sleep to claim them. The exhaustion from their long day and emotional night caught up with Peter first and he slipped into dreamless rest still clutching his lover’s hand. Patrick spent his last moments awake wondering how this miracle could be true and who to thank.

Less than a week ago he’d been a lonely man with no love, no friends, no family and nothing to fill his empty house and heart. Maybe St. Valentine had been impressed with his faithful service and interceded with the Goddess of love. Or Fate had decided to make up for the cruel suffering from the twist of destiny which killed his parents. How else to explain the sudden appearance of this handsome caring man whose honest friendship, love and need for him had poured out in waves which threatened to overwhelm his senses. Soul mates might be a cliché but that’s how it felt.