Giles Pt. 01: Down Among the Dead Men

"Roger Gascoigne, Mr Stanforth." His voice was rich and deep. If Giles had to hazard a guess, Matt's father was also in the legal profession.

Giles recovered himself and shook Matt's father's hand. "Please, call me Giles, Mr Gascoigne."

"Then you must call me Roger, and this is my wife, Ellen."

Matt's mother smiled and stepped forward to embrace Giles on both cheeks.

"Now, before Mum says something to embarrass both of us, let's find a taxi," Matt said crisply and amid chuckles, they made for the rank.

The week before, Matt had dragged Giles to the post-Christmas Sales to buy suitable clothes.

"That metropolitan gear won't last two seconds up north."

Giles was very glad he had been persuaded; on the cusp of the year the weather was fine but bitterly cold.

The taxi headed into Edinburgh on the main Glasgow Road and in a very short time was into the side streets in Murrayfield. Giles peered out at the buildings that seemingly were all made of grey stone. The roads abruptly grew much quieter and the taxi turned into an avenue lined with stone walls and mature trees. Someway down the road, they slowed and pulled into a gate.

Giles' jaw dropped. The gravel drive passed between stands of mature oaks and horse chestnuts to round a smooth front lawn ornamented by a circular pond, currently iced over. The car came to rest in front of a fine Georgian house built in cream coloured stone.

He turned to look at Matt who had an innocent expression on his face.

"What?"

"You-" Giles bit down on the oaths he had been about to utter.

Roger Gascoigne chuckled. "Didn't he warn you?"

"Matt, darling!" his mother chided him.

"Oh, don't you worry about him," her son replied. "He grew up in a much grander house than this. With a park!"

Ellen Gascoigne inspected Giles more keenly and he shifted in his seat.

Once inside, Matt disappeared upstairs with their bags and his father led them through into the kitchen. Seated at the breakfast bar with Ellen, Giles turned to survey his surroundings. The kitchen was enormous, white units topped - appropriately - with polished grey granite. A wooden floor took away some of the hyper-modern edge.

Roger opened the fridge, "Glass of wine?"

"That would be lovely," Giles replied. He always found flying stressful, even on short hops like these.

Matt reappeared just as his father eased the cork from a bottle of good, white, Burgundy.

"Whoa! What's the occasion?"

His mother laid her hand on Giles' forearm. "You're the first person Matthew has ever brought home."

Giles turned to stare at Matt, who was blushing and looking at his feet.

"Work gets in the way," he muttered.

"Your sister's here," his mother announced. "They're in the coach house."

Matt turned an agonised expression on Giles, "I didn't plan this!"

Giles laughed, "Ordeal by inspection. I'd better shave! Is there anyone else I have to mind my manners in front of?"

Ellen gave a delighted little laugh, "I'm sure you'll charm them in exactly the same way as you have my son."

Matt got even redder. "Them?"

"Angus is in town. He'll be back shortly."

The young man groaned and put his head in his hands as Giles inspected him. Charles' trademark quirk of the eyebrow came in useful. Matt peeked at him through a gap in his fingers.

"Sorry."

"You can make it up to me later," Giles remarked airily, taking a sip of wine. He rather thought he might enjoy this.

***

When he went up to get changed, Giles discovered both of their bags in a room with a double bed. He stared at it, and Matt looked at him in trepidation. This was moving things between them to a different level. A statement. Something said out loud.

"I can sort a different room for you, old man. If you want," he said hesitantly.

Giles glanced at him, and Matt was taken aback to realise that Giles was scared. He stepped close and put his arm round the other. "It's okay, I don't mind. I think Mum just assumed that we'd want to sleep together."

"Is that what you want, Matt?" Giles whispered.

Matt's mind whirled. What to say? Of course it was what he wanted, he wanted Giles more than anything he had ever wanted in his whole life. His jaw firmed. "You know I do, Giles. But only if you do as well. You've still got your own room back at the flat. This doesn't have to change anything."

Giles could feel himself about to make another significant step on the road to relinquishing control. He swallowed. "Would you kiss me, Matt?"

Matt squashed his impulse to make a smart remark and took Giles into his arms. He kissed him lightly on the lips. Giles shuddered in the grip of a need that rose from somewhere inside him. His arms tightened and he went to rest his head on Matt's shoulder. Matt was surprised and delighted to discover that he wasn't horny at all. They rocked together gently for a few moments.

"Let's get unpacked, shall we? Mum and Dad will be wondering where we've got to," Matt murmured.

They separated and Matt lifted his travel case on to the bed. He turned to see Giles still standing in the same spot. He looked adorably vulnerable, and Matt's heart melted. Oh yes, he wanted this moody bastard alright.

***

A little later that evening, Giles found himself trying to remember the names of Matt's brother and sister (Isobel and Angus), Isobel's husband and Angus' wife (Clark and Fionnula), nieces and nephews (Kirsty, Peter, another Angus, Siobhan and the twins, Matthew, and Evie)

The adults were in the grand living room round the enormous open fire. Giles again remarked on the complete lack of similarity between the siblings. Isobel and Angus were both redheads and Isobel and her mother might have been pressed out of the same mould. Giles could detect his father's features in Angus' face.

Watching Giles' puzzlement and divining the reason, Ellen leaned across and whispered, "Matthew is my nephew. His parents were killed in a road accident when he was three months old. We've raised him as our own."

Giles' eyes widened.

Matt was laughing with Isobel and Angus at some tale Clark was relating and Giles envied the casual familiarity of the siblings. It had been a long time since he had been able to do that with his own family and thinking on it brought a sense of shame.

Sensing Giles' tristesse, Matt looked round and quickly strode over. "No moping! Come along!" and he hauled the other to his feet.

As they joined the other Gascoignes, Giles drew a deep breath. He needed to make a good impression and he engaged his other mode; little used these days.

Matt watched in growing astonishment as Giles turned several megawatts of charm on his relatives, who swayed in the glare. He was the very essence of an able raconteur. Everyone laughed, as he recounted stories from Dearborn that, Matt realised uneasily, smoothed over Giles' own behaviour. His father smiled and nodded along but the son realised that he was not taken in by the performance.

"Let me play something for you," Giles said, his arms spread wide.

The Gascoignes had no piano. "A terrible lapse," remarked the family patriarch, "my reputation will never recover."

However, there was a guitar, an electro-acoustic Martin no less! Giles picked it off the wall reverentially. "Whose is this?"

The conversation died away and he turned to look at their faces. Suddenly uncertain and conscious that he'd made a major faux pas, he turned to replace it only to find Matt's father's hand on his arm.

"It belonged to Angela, Matt's mother. I don't suppose you can play?"

Giles felt as if he was in the jaws of an anvil. Isobel and Angus were apprehensive, Matt was disconcertingly blank. Ellen, however, had a hopeful look in her eye. She gave him a short, encouraging nod. He tucked the body of the beautiful instrument into his waist to tune it.

"How are you doing that?" Clark asked. "Don't you have to have a tuning fork or something?"

"Perfect pitch," Giles remarked absently.

There were admiring glances, mostly directed at Matt who blushed charmingly.

"Do you have a strap?" Giles asked, as he finished tweaking the top E string.

"Err... somewhere," muttered Isobel and dashed away. By now Giles was already communing with his weapon of choice. He strummed an E major and the guitar hummed to his touch. It had been a while since he had hands on an instrument of this quality. Hitting major 7ths and suspended 4ths along the way, he quickly modulated through A, D, G & C, relishing the instrument's eager response.

Matt's sister reappeared clutching a fabric strap and Giles attached it, strung the guitar around his neck and stood up. He strummed a couple of syncopated chords, shivered a wink at Matt, and then opened his mouth.

"This thing, called love. I just can't handle it!"

He saw Angus nudge Matt, who fended him off, scowling at Isobel's grin.

"Crazy Little Thing Called Love" was followed by "American Pie", the children staring at the adults as the latter sang along with gusto.

"Big Yellow Taxi" and "Never Goin' Back Again" and "Listen To The Music"...

In a gap in proceedings, Gascoigne Senior said quietly, "Play something for yourself."

Giles thought for a moment and then started to play Nick Drake's "Pink Moon."

The artist's genius lay in instilling profound melancholy into a song composed entirely in a major key. Matt thought his heart might burst from the look that settled on Giles' face. Perhaps consciously for the first time, he resolved to eradicate that emotion from his lover's breast.

Giles picked the notes of the coda and rested for a moment in the quintessential Englishness of the song. Then he looked up and met Matt's eyes and something profound passed between them. It might have been a few seconds and it might have been an awful lot longer than that but eventually he looked at his audience for the first time and was taken aback. They were rapt.

"Play more!" squeaked one of the children. He looked down and found them all arrayed round his feet. What to do? An idea came to him.

C major was followed by F major 7^th, then he started to sing, "Slip inside the eye of your mind..."

As the last chords died away, the children cheered, and the adults clapped.

***

"I didn't know you could play guitar," Matt whispered as they lay in bed.

"un po'" Giles murmured, thinking of the aftermath of his impromptu concert.

Ellen had seized his hand as soon as was decorous and drawn him away into the dining room. She clutched him by the shoulders and, in a low, fierce, whisper, said, "If you never do another good deed in your life, thank you, thank you for this!"

"It was nothing," he muttered, embarrassed by her intensity.

"It was not nothing!" she hissed; her eyes dark stone.

Giles looked down not knowing what to say. "I...," he said, hesitantly, "I didn't mean to, I mean, I didn't-"

She took hold of his arm and brought his hand to her lips. "Whether you meant to or not, Giles Stanforth, this evening you honoured his mother's memory in a way that I think no-one else could have done."

Giles stared at her, she let his hand go and retreated to the outer room leaving him with his thoughts. He discovered, like Rosemary Piper before him, a most unfamiliar sensation; that it felt good to do good things. Even unknowingly.

Later, Giles conceded that the wider Gascoigne clan had been very welcoming. Indeed he detected a whiff of desperation. A couple of times he caught Angus and Isobel exchanging glances with their parents. Was there something he should know? Suddenly a wild notion came to him. Did Matt need rescuing? Could he do that? Did he have the capacity?

Interrupting his thoughts, Matt turned to him and slipped his hand across Giles' chest. He raised himself up on his elbow and leaned in to kiss the side of Giles' neck. Slowly he worked little kisses up and along the line of Giles' jaw until he was feathering them on the other man's lips. Matt's hand made its way south to take hold of Giles' gathering erection. He gently pumped the stiffening flesh to help it along the path to full tumescence, delighting in the growing heat and the way in which Giles' breathing was growing harder and heavier.

Giles took hold of Matt's head and they kissed fiercely, mouths wide, feasting on each other, gasping when they broke for air. Distantly, Giles thought Matt had to lose the beard, it was just too annoying. Thank God he wasn't one of those 'bears' he'd heard of. Giles was none too keen on body hair. His thoughts abruptly terminated when Matt stared to kiss and lick his neck. He worked his way down until he was licking Giles' nipples, which Giles discovered were surprisingly sensitive.

His brain was doing weird things, running this experience in parallel with memories of his times with Perry. To nothing less than his own amazement, Giles started to glimpse the difference between sex and power. Passion and sensuality and... affection, and somehow, they could all be the same thing at once. He let out a mighty sigh.

Matt paused his ministrations. His eyes were heavy with lust, and he raised his eyebrows in question. Whatever it was, he did not want to stop now.

Giles rolled on to his side, and cupped Matt's face with his hand, his thumb stroking the line of his jaw. Matt found himself nearly overwhelmed at the tenderness in the other man's expression. Where did he keep all these faces?

However, they could do all that hand holding mushy stuff in the morning. He took Giles' hand and placed on his own cock. The other man gave him a wicked saturnine grin, and rubbed Matt's crown with his thumb, making electric jolts in Matt's groin.

They tugged at each other's firmness, trading wet kisses and panted gasps of hot breath as their passion mounted.

Matt desperately wanted Giles' cock in his mouth - or his arse - but didn't want to give up the churning need between his legs. Giles hadn't gone down on him as yet, might now be the time to test the waters? He left off kissing Giles' mouth to gradually turn round, bringing his body to face the other way.

Giles was initially disconcerted when he realised what Matt wanted. This was something he had never done with Perry, which had all been about his own power and gratification. This though...

He gasped as Matt's mouth took his member, wetly licking and sucking his straining flesh even as his fingertips gently caressed Giles' balls. Closing his eyes, he brought closed the distance and then he could tell Matt's cock was right in front of his face, even if it hadn't been in his hand, the heat was perceptible in the intimate space between them.

Giles took a shuddering breath and then tentatively put out his tongue and licked the underside of the tumescent shaft. Then the smell was in his nostrils and his last reserves drained away. He took the hot flesh in his mouth and tried to mimic what Matt was doing to him. Part of him wondered what he would do if Matt came.

Not too many minutes later, as Matt's buttocks tensed, he realised he was about to find out. Matt's hips jerked and then hot jets of salty viscosity were coating the inside of his mouth. Giles struggled to keep his composure and remembered with shame how he had treated Perry when he had reacted the same way. As Matt's cock slipped from his mouth, he managed to swallow. Bizarrely, it reminded him of eating oysters, something else he could do but didn't particularly take any pleasure in.

Matt was lying with his head on his arm and his eyes shut, recovering his breathing.

Giles turned to face him. "How did I do?"

Matt opened one eye. "If that was your first time sucking cock then I think I might be in luck."

"What about me?" said Giles, teasingly, "When do I get to come?"

"I'll take care of you in a minute," said Matt with a growl. "Stand up!"

Giles widened his eyes and smirked at the other, "So masterful!" but he moved to comply.

He watched in puzzlement as Matt went to kneel behind him, planting little kisses on the backs of his knees, another area that was bizarrely sensitive.

"Open your legs, darling," Matt whispered, and Giles obligingly shifted his feet apart.

Then Matt was navigating his way between Giles' buttocks and his eyes widened as he felt Matt's tongue circling his sphincter. The feeling was extraordinary. Then the tip penetrated him, and he cried out at the sheer eroticism of being invaded by the slippery muscle.

Matt's hand made its way round to grasp his newly restored erection and proceeded to pump him in time with the probing at his back door. Sparks were going off in Giles's head. He'd always thought straight sex superior, but Matt might be about to change his mind.

Then, in all too short a time, his own legs were shaking in the throes of his climax, great arcs of milky jissom flying across the room in an orgasm so powerful he could feel his vision going black at the edges. When it ended, he fell forward on to the bed, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he feared he might do himself a damage.

He felt Matt clambering on to the bed beside him. The other nestled into his side, draping an arm and leg over him. They lay together in sweaty post-coital silence for several minutes. Then, without opening his eyes, Giles' murmured, "That was phenomenal."

Matt chuckled gently, "It'll get better with practice, I promise."

Giles turned his head, eyes still closed, and they kissed, gently at first and then with increasing fervour. Giles realised without too much surprise that he was hard again. Matt looked down and took note.

"Fuck me, darling," he whispered. "Please."

"If you really want me to," Giles murmured, smiling.

In answer Matt reached over to grab the lube from the bedside table. Giles shuddered as the cool gel was applied to his throbbing member, Matt expertly squeezing and stroking him to further stiffness. Then Matt rolled on to his front and stuffed a pillow under his midriff, raising his arse temptingly into the air.

Giles ran his hand over the firm globes, taking the opportunity to slip the gel into the cleft and liberally anoint Matt's sphincter. Matt trembled and gasped, opening his legs wide in invitation.

Giles bent close to the other man's ear. "You want my nice hard cock up your arse, do you?"

"Oh God, Giles! Don't tease me, I'm begging you!"

In answer, Giles mounted him, easing his shaft into the tight opening, gasping at the sensation as his cock was enveloped by the slick warmth, Matt's exquisite groan only enhancing the moment.

Matt's hand found his and their fingers twined.

They established a rhythm, Matt pushing back as Giles thrust forward, each thrust matched by an answering sigh from the other as Giles touched the sweet spot. Matt could feel his orgasm building, his own cock rigid against the sheets and he raised his arse higher.

"Harder!"

In answer Giles took hold of Matt's hips and slammed forwards, burying himself deep inside. Matt shrieked into the pillow and climaxed, spurting cum onto the bedding. His passage clamped down on Giles' cock, precipitating the other man to empty his balls inside him.

Giles fell on to the bed beside Matt, sweaty and satisfied. He was on the verge of falling asleep when he heard the other whisper something softly. He opened his eyes to peer at him.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," Matt said, his eyes closed.

***

The next morning they rose late and breakfasted together in the morning room attached to the kitchen. Through the windows the snow fell in heavy flakes, covering the garden in a thick white blanket.

"It's been snowing all night," said Ellen, stating the obvious.

"Your performance was very accomplished," said her husband. "Do you play professionally?"

"No," Giles said shortly, looking out of the window.