Sharing

After I'd rapidly exhausted conversation with the people I vaguely knew from Southampton, and grown bored hearing people from elsewhere boasting about how wonderful their dreary-sounding lives were, I decided to head up to bed.

It was about eleven thirty; a bit of a pitiful time to be leaving a post-conference dinner offering unlimited free drinks, but it was really the best I could manage.

I found Dr Powell at the bar talking to a young guy; a guy who fitted exactly his usual 'type'.

When Powell saw me, he urged me to join them and introduced his friend as "Adrian from Imperial College."

I nodded the lad an acknowledgement, telling Powell that I was tired and asking him for the key to the room.

Powell didn't seem to hear me. "Adrian's in his first term of his first year," he droned. "He's from Ipswich..."

I smiled politely at Adrian. I wondered if he knew the reason he was inspiring Powell's interest. He seemed to be a quiet, unaffected guy. When he spoke, to pointlessly tell me the name of the village he was from near Ipswich, his voice sounded deep and his tone authoritative.

I was surprised: I'd assumed, for some silly reason, that he'd sound camp.

I asked him, disinterestedly, why he'd chosen to study at Imperial.

"My father went there, and of course London's in commuting distance of Ipswich so I wouldn't have to leave home, so it seemed the most logical choice... there's a very reliable train service running from Ipswich to King's Cross, you know..."

I nodded and smiled, thinking how he made the people I'd been speaking to earlier appear quite enthralling.

I wondered what signs Powell looked for when perusing young men. This one seemed a no-hoper to me, as far as action in the bedroom was concerned; he was far too stuffy and formal.

I turned back to Powell. "If I could have the key, then..."

He jumped down from his barstool to get the key out of his pocket and walked forwards a little, away from Adrian.

He said, "I won't be long, myself, actually..."

I nodded and glanced at Adrian who was swirling his drink around and staring into it, as though trying to read tea leaves in it. "The company's not exactly rivetting then, is it?"

Powell smiled and raised his eyes as though in exasperation. He whispered, "Jesus Christ... I was hoping you'd rescue me..."

I grinned and grabbed the key. "Too late, mate. He's all yours!"

And I left him, chuckling, as I headed up to bed.

I was awoken an hour or so later by someone moving around in the darkness of the room.

I clicked the light on and found Dr Powell pulling his shirt off. He said, "Sorry, Sebastian... I was trying to be quiet..."

I smiled, admiring again his well-built hairy chest. "It's okay... I'm a light sleeper..."

Then he surprised me by saying, "You know you said you wouldn't mind if someone stayed over..."

I nodded.

He went on, "Well - you won't believe it - the same thing happened to Adrian's bed as happened to yours... it was soaked..."

I nodded again.

"So I suggested he should sleep here for tonight. I hope you don't mind..."

I shrugged. "No, of course not... it's your room... where will he sleep?"

Powell looked around as though the idea hadn't occurred to him. "Oh I dunno... maybe on the floor... or he can squeeze into my bed, if he's not too fussy... we'll work something out..."

I smiled. "Well, if you like, he can share my bed. It'd be only fair, since you let me share with you. Tops to tails... you know...." I had no intention of honouring the offer, but I couldn't resist making it.

Powell smiled hesitantly. It took him a few seconds to think of a reason why that wouldn't be advisable. Eventually, he tried: "No... it's okay... really... you're already half-asleep... I wouldn't want to disturb you..."

I was going to be insistent but thought better of it. Powell had let me use his room, and in the highly unlikely event that any fun was coming his way, I didn't want to spoil it.

Adrian came through the door from the bathroom and glanced over at me, clearly surprised to find me awake and the light on. He said, "Hello again." That deep voice again.

I nodded. "Sorry about the bed..."

He looked confused.

Powell quickly interjected, as he sat on the bed taking his shoes and socks off, "I was telling Sebastian about how your bed got soaked... why you'll have to spend the night here..."

Adrian nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh right. Yeah."

I threw them both a broad grin and told them I'd get back to sleep.

Powell went to turn the light off but I said I didn't mind.

Then I turned to the wall and listened to them undressing.

Even though I didn't especially want to stay awake, I found it impossible to get back to sleep. I guess, despite the signs to the contrary, I was expecting Adrian to react badly to what I suspected was coming. He just didn't seem the type of guy who'd knowingly get into the bed of a man in his mid-thirties who had homosexual interests. He seemed too square; too straight.

I wasn't sure of the lad's motives, but I suspected he'd realised Powell was flirting and had gone along with it, wondering what he could get out of it or too polite to reject his advances. Now he thought a shared bed was all he had to pay to satisfy the older guy's attentions...

I knew from their whispers that they got into bed wearing only their underpants. Powell made some comment about Adrian not suiting boxer shorts, which was followed by the reply from the lad that he knew but that his mum chose them for him, and then Adrian said that Powell's briefs were "well fitting". Powell had chuckled and said that his wife had bought him them.

Adrian hadn't seem to flinch at the mention of a wife. Powell's marital status had clearly been raised earlier in the evening.

Powell moved over towards my bed and clicked the light off. The room was instantly pitch black..

The two of them clumsily got into Powell's bed.

There were very few sounds for the first few minutes and I began to think that - maybe, however improbable - the two guys really were just going to go to sleep together. That perhaps snuggling up to the sleeping form of an eighteen-year-old lad would be enough for Powell.

But then, after what seemed like an eternity of the three of us lying there in silence, I heard a muffled whisper. It sounded like Adrian.

Powell replied, softly but more clearly, "Well, what does it matter if he's awake?"

Another muffled whisper from Adrian and then the clearer reply, "Come on, he knows the score..."

Then silence for another few minutes.

The room was eerily dark; there seemed to be no lights outside the window as there had been in my old room, and nothing crept in beneath the door from the strip-lights in the corridor.

I began to wonder if they'd gone to sleep, their arms wrapped around each other. The room was so utterly quiet that I began to half-believe it as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling I couldn't see.

But then Adrian chuckled and called out, "Not there! I'm ticklish!"

I smiled into the darkness. So much for my idea that they'd spend the night innocently snuggling together.

Powell whispered, "How about this, then? Is that any better?"

Adrian sighed. "Aah... yeah... that's nice..."

A gentle, slightly wet-sounding, clicking noise started up. Going fairly slowly, but with a steady, regular beat.

Adrian moaned softly.

Powell must be wanking the lad off, I thought. And Adrian seemed to be enjoying it. It looked like Dr Powell had chosen a winner after all; it showed what I knew about how to pick up eighteen-year-old young men.

Powell whispered, "Do you do that to yourself sometimes?"

Adrian sighed, "Sometimes... but it feels nicer the way you do it..."

They fell quiet for a minute or so and the clicking sounds increased in pace and became wetter; they were beginning to sound more like soft, slurping sounds.

Then Powell asked, his voice a little louder, "Is that hurting?"

Adrian replied, "No, it feels good..." Then he chuckled, "I can take a lot more than that..."

Powell laughed. "I bet you can..."

The older man's rhythm continued to increase and the rhythmic noises became wetter; they began to sound like chewing sounds.

Adrian sighed more loudly.

In their pleasure, they were both forgetting that I was lying a few feet away from them.

Powell said, "Do you want me to suck you while I do it?"

Adrian replied that he did.

I was thinking, "How can you suck a guy and wank him at the same time?"

But I didn't dwell on it; my attention was diverted by Adrian's groan of pleasure as Powell took him into his mouth.

Now there was two rhythms: the sucking and slurping of Powell's mouth on Adrian's cock, and the munching sound of Powell's hand on Adrian's... er... well... where was that noise coming from, actually?

Adrian kept groaning, his breathing speeding up so fast he was almost panting.

Then both noises stopped.

Powell said, "I've got some lube... I'll just get it..."

And then it dawned on me where his hand had been.

My cock, which had been semi-erect in fascination at the sounds I was hearing, stiffened quickly to full size at the thought of Powell's fingers sliding in and out of the younger guy's arse. I wasn't too sure why: I guess it was just the sheer novelty of it.

Powell clicked the light on.

I winced at the brightness of it and peered over at them.

Powell was still wearing his briefs, but his cock made a fat, hard rod inside of them, making a diagonal ridge from his balls to his left hip. He looked surprised when he saw me looking over. He muttered, "Er... sorry, Sebastian..."

I smiled, trying to appear relaxed about it. "No worries, mate..."

I suddenly realised I'd just called a senior medical lecturer 'mate' but, before I could correct myself, he grinned back at me.

He went over to his bag and fished around in the side pocket for his lube.