Man With The Beautiful Eyes

To describe exactly why my stomach coiled and my heart rate increased when I saw him would be like trying to explain why the earth is round, or why Oranges don't have a more original name, or why, no matter how much gel I use, I can never get my hair to look like that model in the advertisement with the skateboard.

You see, this has never happened to me before. I've never had a primal reaction to another man in my life. Yes, this is one of those stories where the straight guy looks across a crowded room at the hot man who just walked in and Boom! All of a sudden he switches teams.

Only, the room wasn't crowded, it was a garden. He really wasn't all that hot in the grand scheme of things and despite the fact that he was all I thought about, I refused for a while after that night to admit my time with him was anything but a one-off.

I was new to the great city of London. A qualified accountant having recently been transferred from the North to the Hammersmith offices of a multinational dotcom company, I was taking full advantage of the significant pay increase and had yet to truly discover the cost of living here. As such, I still hadn't bothered with the underground. Black Taxi's were my only mode of transportation.

It was the middle of July and a muggy evening. The weather forecast had predicted storms but I was going to a private party hosted by a colleague in the Marketing department so I wasn't too bothered about dressing for the weather. It was Gary's Birthday and everyone on the third floor had been invited along to help 'commiserate turning fifty' as his email had so succinctly put it. I had initially decided not to go, but my manager had persuaded me with talk of 'getting to know your colleagues on a more personal level'. I eventually agreed, thinking I would show my face for an hour at most, then duck out of there when no one was looking.

That decided, Saturday night rolled around and seven thirty I found myself heaving my unwilling torso out of the comfortable old armchair in the living room and heading for the shower.

There are few luxuries in life I consider an absolute necessity. My shower Gel is one of them. It comes from a small shop in Yorkshire that hand-make their own products and smells wonderful. It also costs a fortune, but like I said, an absolute necessity. Of course, it's even harder to get hold of now I live down south, but I transfer the money and my wonderful mother goes into town every month and buys me a couple of bottles then sends down a care package.

The best thing about my shower gel is that the smell lingers. Hours after showering I can still smell the wonderful aroma of whatever it is they put in it to make me a repeat customer. It also means I don't bother with aftershave unless I have actually shaved, which, thanks to my genes is only twice a week, so I guess I can justify their outrageous prices by saving money in other areas.

Once clean, dry and dressed I stood in front of my mirror for a few minutes contemplating the nightmare that is my hair. I wasn't a bad looking guy. At twenty seven years old, five eleven and, thanks to growing up on a farm, there wasn't much extra weight to be seen. I'd even managed to develop some stomach muscles along with my biceps. I guess lugging bails of hay and kicking a football around at weekends will do that to you.

I grabbed the 'Extra Hold' gel from the desk and pulled off the lid. Running a generous amount through my brown hair I worked for almost ten minutes trying to get the Bed Head look I was going for. Nothing doing. Somewhere around Messy, But Not Horrendous I gave up and stood back for the overall image assessment.

Cynical brown eyes stared back at me through overly long lashes that had been the cause of mild teasing back in school. Black shoes, blue jeans, fitted black shirt with long sleeves that I could roll up if I got too hot. It would have to do. I grabbed a black roll neck sweater (in case I got too cold, you never know with English weather), checked I had my keys, wallet and phone and was out of the door by eight.

By the time the taxi pulled up outside Gary's house in Peckham I could tell the party was in full swing. Balloons had been strung up on the door either side of a plastic banner announcing 'Party Inside!', but the humidity and lack of wind had caused them to wilt and hang limp against the door frame. The noise coming from inside the house filtered out onto the street and as I paid the driver and stepped out of the cab I could already hear indistinguishable chatter over the base beat remake of some bad eighties track that refused to go gently into that good night.

Taking a deep breath and reminding myself of the promise that I had made to only stay for an hour, I walked towards the front door and rang the bell.

It took three attempts to get someone to hear me, but eventually my persistence was noticed by an attractive young woman in her late twenties who opened the door with a shy smile and stood aside to let me through.

"Hi" I nodded to her as I stepped over the threshold. "I'm Alex. From Gary's work." She looked blankly at me for a moment so I pressed on. "The guy who's party this is. Do you know where I can find him?"

Finally the clouds parted and she finally started to show some signs of life. "Oh, Pinky! He's in the garden with the boys. Go on through the kitchen."

Odd nickname, I mused as I thanked her politely and walked through the packed hallway and living room, dodging people carrying drinks and trying not to step on toes as I made my way to the empty kitchen as instructed, grabbing a still sealed bottle of single malt whisky on the way.

Out of the patio doors and into a large, if somewhat unruly garden I spotted 'Pinky' almost straight away. He was holding court, surrounded about six other men and had apparently just told them all the punchline to a very funny joke because as if on queue all six men burst into hysterics and started slapping each other on the back. I walked over to the group and inserted myself smoothly amongst them.

"Happy Birthday Gary!" I smiled as I handed him the bottle of Whisky. Gary's face clouded over for a moment and I waited for him to recognize me, then a huge grin covered his meaty face. "Alex! Buddy! You shouldn't have!" He grasped the bottle by the neck with his right hand and with his left he started to point. "Alex, these are the blokes from my darts team. Davey, Rigger, Mike, Podge, Archie, Nickie, this is Alex Standeven. He's the new accountant at work."

Nods all around with the odd polite "Hello, Hi, How are ya?" added for good measure, the one called 'Podge' disappeared off to the kitchen to get some glasses so that we could all drink a toast with the Whisky I had so generously 'bought' and Gary was back to telling rude jokes.

Four jokes in and I had seriously started to lose interest. "Just going to the loo," I said to one of the faceless men next to me and he nodded absently as I wandered off in the general direction of the house, wondering how much longer I had to put up with Gary and the darts team before I could call a cab.

And that's when I saw him.

He was standing alone, leaning against the wall by the patio doors and hidden partly by shadows. It was almost nine so the sun had finally started to set in earnest and I must have been at least ten feet away. All I could make out as I stood frozen in place staring at him was a man of about six foot, with jet black hair and the most intense eyes I have ever seen.

I stood for a good minute, unable to move a muscle as he slowly bent his left leg at the knee and placed his foot flat against the wall, folding his arms as he did. His gaze never left mine and although I couldn't see him properly I knew, just knew, there was hunger in his eyes.

I felt as though hypnotized. My stomach gave a nervous flutter and my heart was beating too fast. Never before had another person - let alone another man, had this effect on me. I could feel the familiar stirrings of arousal in my groin and it was perhaps that which finally shook me out of my daze and had me walking with determination and a fixed stare towards the bright lights and sanctuary of the kitchen.

The only problem with getting into the house was that unless he moved, I would have to come within two feet of this stranger and the thought of that unnerved me as nothing ever had before. Still, with clenched fists I continued my approach and schooled my head to keep my focus on the work surfaces I could see as my goal in getting past him. However, as I walked past, eyes fixed and mouth drawn in a tight line across my face, he inhaled. He breathed me in. And that did it for me. My focus on the kitchen counter was gone, I turned my head to look at him and the battle was lost.

Now less than two feet away from each other I felt myself being pulled into his mesmerizing stare. His pupils were so dilated with arousal I could barely make out the blue surrounding them, but I couldn't stop staring into them; could feel myself drowning in them and wondered vaguely as I went under once again, if my eyes looked the same right now.

He reached out and grabbed my hand and I realized I was holding my breath. My lungs started to burn and I was forced to exhale. I did so slowly and tried to even out my breathing, to reduce my heart rate as he pulled me deeper into the shadows.

Never removing my eyes from his hypnotizing stare, and not even caring at this point if we could be seen, I followed meekly, my footsteps matching his until we came around to a small gap in the side between the garden fence and an outer wall of the house. Now surrounded completely by darkness I could no longer see him at all and the loss of that connection with this strange man made me lose my nerve somehow. I began to back away slowly, gently tugging at my hand to free it from his, but his grip only tightened and he raised our joined hands to his cheek.

"Stay", he whispered, and that, combined with the feel of his smooth skin against my calloused fingers reigned me in once again as I slowly began to stroke his face from the top of his cheek down under his jaw to his collar bone.

My fingers reached out again traced the lines of his lips, my breath catching when he poked his tongue out to gently lick moisture onto my fingertips. My left hand twitched as it lay idly at my side, desperate to touch him as my right was doing. As if he knew this were the case, his free hand gently told hold of mine and placed it on his chest as he mirrored the action with his own hand.

His face was so close to mine now I could feel his breath on my face, I knew this gentle exploration could not last as I could feel the heat rising in us both. Just touching his face and upper body alone had made me painfully erect and the myriad of questions and concerns I had surrounding this little revelation were being pushed to the back of my mind by this man's presence alone. What worried me most though, was the regret I might have afterwards. These touches and caresses I may be able to put down to Whisky and daft behaviour in the cold light of day, but much more than this and I may never be able to go back to who I was.

The moon appeared from behind a cloud, lighting up his face and eyes and in that moment I had never been more certain of anything in my entire life. Right there, hidden in a cramped outdoor space at the home of a colleague I barely knew, nothing seemed more right than to lean in and gently place my lips against this strange, beautiful mans.

Vaguely I heard myself whimper as he moved his free hand to the back of my head and pulled me in, deepening our kiss and running his tongue along my lips, begging for entry. My hand, still on his face, moved to run shaking through his hair as I angled my head and acquiesced to his silent demand, shuddering when I felt the first touch of his tongue teasing past my teeth and licking the inside of my cheek. I tried to return the wonderful sensation, to allow him to experience what I was feeling but I was lost in a mindless whirl of taste; smoke and cinnamon. Calling upon all the strength I had, I forced myself to become more proactive, slipping past his lips to duel my tongue with his own. He growled then, deep and throaty and nipped on my bottom lip, his hand tightening in my hair.

It all became so much more urgent after that. My left hand fisted against his shirt and pulled him impossibly closer as he used his momentum to turn us mid-kiss and push me up against the wall. I could feel his erection hard up against my groin and stomach and despite this, I still couldn't get enough. Removing my hand from his hair I slid it down his back and grabbed his butt, grinding him against me and crying out when his hard on rubbed against my own.

He dragged his lips away from mine. "We have to stop," he said breathlessly as he closed his eyes and placed his forehead against my own. But I was too far gone for that. "Please", I begged, equally out of breath and pulled him against me once again. He groaned audibly and buried his head between my neck and shoulder. I thought he was just trying to calm down so I attempted the same, staring up into the muggy, star-filled night, consciously slowing my breathing. But then he began kissing my neck, moving his hands down my back and up and under my shirt until I could feel his warm smooth fingers scratching down my shoulder blades and tickling down my sides "You smell..." he began as he licked a line from the bottom of my neck to my earlobe making me quiver, "I can't stop."

My heart picked up its rapid tattoo again and in my aural periphery I could still make out the laughter and noise of the party, but this man was all that mattered. His taste, his touch, his kisses. His mouth was back on mine and his hands were undoing the buttons on my shirt as I tried to follow suit but my fingers wouldn't stop shaking. He got there first and was moving down my body, stroking and kissing my chest, leaving soft licks and bites on my nipples that left me crying out and begging for more.

Somewhere in all of this he had removed his own shirt and when he slid his body back up mine I could feel us skin to skin. "Oh, God," I moaned as he grabbed my hips and began rocking us together again. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling his pectoral and abdominal muscles quiver under my fingertips. The guys at football used to wind me up for not having much chest hair but I had always figured it was just part of my genetic makeup, like the shaving thing, but this guy, I couldn't feel any at all. "What?" he murmured, confused as I laughed in wonder.

I said the only thing I could say, the only thing that came to mind. "You're beautiful." It was the truth. He was beautiful and I had never wanted anything more in my life but for some reason this simple statement released something primal in him. He kissed me so hard my head banged slightly against the wall and he tore at my belt and jeans, releasing me in a matter of seconds.

I could feel the night air against my raging, hot penis, made worse as his hand reached out blindly to stroke me. He ran his thumb lightly over the tip and my knees buckled, the wall behind me the only thing keeping me from dragging us both down onto the grass at our feet.

He kissed me once again, then moved back down my body, never ceasing the movements with his right hand as he stopped his journey to again kiss and nip at my nipples before making his way further south. I knew what he was going to do and somewhere in the back of my mind a small voice was telling me to stop him before this went too far, that it was wrong, but I was already too far gone and when I felt the first touch of his tongue against the tip of my cock I knew I was his.

Never in my life had I ever felt anything quite like this. I'm no virgin, being a strong Northern lad, and had had my share of women in my time, but none had ever come close to making me feel this way. He ran his tongue over me again and again, licking the top before moving his lips in little kisses from the base all the way up and back again. An incredible sensation in itself, but I needed more. I needed to feel myself inside of him somehow and I think he sensed that because all of a sudden I was in his mouth, sucked in deep and arching my back.

His hands were on my hips, trying to maintain control of the pace but every downward thrust of his lips took me deeper and deeper into that soft, damp cavernous mouth, while his tongue continued to torment me from within and his right hand left my hip to reach out and fondle my testicles.

The moon came out once again and I looked down to see the beautiful man on his knees with his eyes closed, his nose nudging my pubic hair as he sucked me. The sight alone would have been enough to make me orgasm, but then I realized his left hand was no longer on my hip. Instead he had managed to free himself and was awkwardly jerking away at his own cock in a desperate attempt to bring himself off with me.

My heart went out to him in that moment and at the same time a primal urge greater than any I had ever felt before took over. "Stop,' I ground out as I gently pushed him from me. My cock left his mouth with a gentle pop and he looked up at me quizzically. With the moon still in our favour I could look into his eyes again. Lust was still raging within, but doubt was beginning to take over. I took hold of his arms and pulled him lightly to his feet. "I want you."

Realization hit his face and coloured his cheeks with a soft red glow. "But," he stammered gently, "I didn't think you were..."

"I'm not." I replied definitively. "I want you."

Smiling, he nodded and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He searched in the dim moonlight for a moment, pulled out a condom and handed it to me. I looked into his eyes as I tore open the package with my teeth and pulled out the contents, then, before I could change my mind I dropped to my knees and began to stretch it over his swollen cock.

"Oh, God," He stuttered, as he leaned on my shoulders for support. "I thought you meant..." I stood up again and pulled him against me, gently running his sheathed penis through my hand as I whispered. "Perhaps I should have made myself more clear."

We kissed again for a long time. Each second becoming more urgent, more demanding before I finally took the initiative and turned to face the wall. He ran his fingers over my back and my sides before moving me into a more accessible position and nudging my legs apart gently with his feet. I had stretched my legs as wide as possible within the confines of the jeans that were now bunched around my ankles, but waiting for the pain I knew was coming was making me more than a little nervous.

I could feel him moving behind me, positioning himself for entry and I braced my hands against the wall, dropping my head and gritting my teeth. But the pain never came. Instead I suddenly felt the most incredible sensation of his tongue and lips pressed up against me, teasing my opening and relaxing me beyond anything I had ever thought possible. I moaned as he spread my cheeks for better access and thrust his tongue inside of me, making me rock my hips in time with his ministrations. He grabbed my cock and began jerking me off to add to the pleasure so that I didn't notice at first when his tongue was replaced by one of his fingers.

When I did realize, I stopped rocking and started concentrating on relaxing against him. He was inside me now and I could feel his finger moving around – a strange, but not entirely unpleasant sensation. The pain increased as he added another finger and I groaned slightly in discomfort but he grabbed my hip with his other hand and began rocking me against him. I could feel him stretching my muscles and with every backwards motion the pain eased. Finally, he gently removed his fingers and stood.