I woke the next morning to an unfamiliar weight and warmth next to me in the bed. It was some time since I'd taken anyone to this particular bed, so I didn't have trouble remembering that it wasn't a lover I was sharing it with now.
Niall didn't seem to share that view of himself. As I stirred sleepily, he rolled on top of me, his erection rubbing against me.
“Niall!” I spluttered, trying to fend him off.
He looked as bewildered as I felt. “But I thought you liked men?”
So it was deliberate. I shouldn't have had to think about this when I was still half asleep, and when my body was remembering of its own accord that I'd just spent the night in bed with an attractive man. “I like men. But I don't like taking advantage of people.” Though there seemed to be some room for doubt as to who was taking advantage of whom -- Niall was refusing to shift and was bigger than me. “You don't have to do this.” The image of those silkie women of legend haunted me. Niall, insisting on doing the washing up last night … “Niall, I took you in because Jock asked me to. Not because I expect anything in return.”
“I know,” he said, and bent down to kiss me briefly. “That's why I want you.”
“Niall, are you gay?”
“There are people I like and people I don't like. Does it matter if they're man or woman?”
Not a straight answer, but as much of an answer as I was likely to get, I suspected. Did it matter, as long as he was doing this because he wanted to rather than because he felt he should?
“Richard, I want to do this.” He was unbuttoning my pyjama top as he said it, making it clear with deed as well as words. “I'll stop if you don't want it, but can you say that you don't?” He slid one hand down to squeeze my erect cock through my pyjama trousers.
All I could think of was how good it felt, and how much better it would feel without cloth in the way. I knew I shouldn't be doing this, but Niall was doing his damnedest to convince me that I should, and there's only so much temptation a man can resist. I put my arms around him, pulling him down against me, enjoying the feel of his hard, fit body along the length of mine.
“That's better,” he said before kissing me again. He tasted slightly of salt, which must have been my imagination, considering his attempt to drain the hot water tank the night before. He felt good in my arms even before he started thrusting against me, his cock rubbing against mine.
The bloody clothes really were getting in the way now, but I didn't want to let go of him for long enough to get them off. I grabbed at the waistband of his pyjama trousers, trying to pull them down enough to free his cock. Frustration at first, with his weight pinning them in place; then he realised what I was doing and lifted his hips slightly, just enough that I could drag the annoying cloth down past them. Oh, god, but I wanted him, wanted to feel his cock right against mine. I hauled my own clothing out of the way, far enough at least that we had skin-to-skin contact where it mattered. I could feel him properly now, hot skin against mine, his cock dragging against me. There was cream in the bedside cabinet, but I couldn't for the life of me let go of him long enough to look for it. It would have to be rough and ready, none of the little refinements.
He deserved better than that, we both did, but it was far too late to stop now. I was almost there already, morning erection on top of sharing the bed being all I'd needed by way of foreplay. He was in similar straits, frantic against me, gasping my name as he hung on to me.
Then he said more than my name. “Want you, Richard. Want this … with you …” And it was enough for me.