Byron grinned and very slowly plaited his hair and tied the end with the ever-present strip of leather he carried. Martin stared, and swallowed heavily at him. "I'm just getting it ready for you," Byron said, as he made sure the leather thong was secured.
"It makes me want you even more," Martin said in a hoarse voice.
Oh yes. Byron would look forward to that. Just like he'd look forward to playing with the nipple ring that showed as a silver shadow through the fine linen of Martin's shirt. "Hold that thought," he demanded. "Ring your assistant. We're going to be unavoidably detained helping my mother move and won't be back in the office this afternoon."
"Eh? Where's she moving to?" It was no wonder Martin sounded bewildered. A rush of heat to Byron's cock had made Byron make it all up.
"The train, her hotel, the French Riviera? Nowhere, you idiot, but we are. Into my bedroom, at the very least. For a little session of cocking?"
"Okay, but what's cock fighting got to…ah, fucker." Martin bumped Byron on the shoulder with his knuckles. "Shall we toss for it? Who's the tosser and who's the fucker?"
A dig in the ribs made Martin jump. A tall, well-dressed, middle-aged lady stood behind them, her umbrella point held toward Martin.
"Young man, your language is not of the standard I'd expect from a male who wears his suit as elegantly as you do. Surely you were taught that to cuss so eloquently is the sign of an uneducated, vocabulary-challenged yob?"
Byron smothered a grin as Martin flushed a deep red and swallowed again. "Yes, Ma'am. I'm so sorry. He infuriated me." He looked bewildered at the fact a perfect stranger had accosted them in the street.
The tip of the umbrella swerved in Byron's direction and he moved his hand over his groin in a protective gesture.
"Hey, ma, watch that, it's a lethal weapon." Byron wrapped his fingers around the metal tip and angled it away from the sensitive, going to be needed before long, area of his body. The gimlet stare reminded Byron of his ex-headmistress when she couldn't get any volunteers for litter duty. No one could do it as well, except his parent. He stood back and waited for what happened next.
She ignored him and addressed Martin. "He frequently infuriates me as well, but I find a hard stare works so much better than an expletive. And may I say in answer to your question … take turns." She flicked her umbrella out of Byron's grip with what looked like a practiced movement, and tapped it on the pavement. "Don't let him ride roughshod over you. If he's going to ride you, make it work for you, not against you."
Catch the other teases on...