This Charming Man

Twenty

I only had to clear up the towels after Mr Weekes left Bath 2 since the reason Frank had even bothered approaching me earlier was because it was his job to clean up after Mr Weekes was done. I avoided talking to Frank after I finished and quickly made my way down the corridor to see if Spencer was still in Bath 12. But the bath was in use when I arrived and I knew at this time during the evening, Spencer would be back up in our room probably looking after Ryan.

I turned on my heel and high tailed it back up to Mr Weekes' room. I entered without knocking, hoping he wouldn't mind and smiled when I saw him sat on the end of his bed, dressed in his underwear and a shirt, roughly drying his hair with a towel. Mr Weekes looked up when he heard me and grinned.

"Okay?" he asked cheerfully, dropping the towel to the side. I smiled wider in reply and as I paced over to him, I felt the butterflies in my stomach beginning to stir and flutter again.

Mr Weekes rubbed his hands together and smiled up at me. "Right well, um..." he began, faltering and glancing round awkwardly, "I uh... I was thinking maybe we should try something different?"

I shrugged, too nervous to speak yet felt I was doing a pretty good job of not letting my nerves show.

"Alright. I-I should've asked you this before but how did," Mr Weekes paused to swallow, "h-how did you feel about me touching you?"

I hesitated, deciding not to tell him it was scariest, most overwhelmingly titillating thing that had ever happened to me in my seventeen years and settled for another shrug and a mumbled, "I-I liked it."

Mr Weekes smiled. "Good. So uh..." he said, scratching the back of his neck, "Would you like to go further with that or something else?"

I frowned slightly, suddenly aware Mr Weekes was acting completely different to yesterday. Last night, his words were sweet and sultry with his lips leaving my skin burning and his hands electrifying my bones. But now, sat before me on the bed, the same lips were nothing but soft tremors, the same hands eager and agitated with nerves. I felt my skin aching for the same contact and, trying my hardest to ignore the violent bustling of butterflies in my stomach, stepped forward and stooped to kiss Mr Weekes, my hand gently cupping his cheek. He kissed me back, gradually becoming rougher with his mouth and placed his hand on the back of my neck to keep me in place. I slid out of his hold after a few long moments of tongue clashing and lip biting and dropped to my knees in front of him, resting my hands on his thighs.

At this point I was fairly certain that I knew what I wanted to do but the idea of it seemed totally alien to me. I was up on my knees so I could continue kissing Mr Weekes and my hands were slowly sliding up his bare thighs, trembling lightly with a mix of longing and fright and they paused to dither by the hem of his underwear. I broke the kiss to take a breath and blinked up at him, only acutely aware that my eyes were wide open, my cheeks flustered and my breath quick and shallow. Mr Weekes' gave me lazy side grin, his eyes intently fixed on mine and he stroked the back of my neck with his thumb while he caught his breath. I swallowed and glanced down at the growing bulge in his boxers. I breathed out shakily and started to think about how I was supposed to do this, trying to remember how Mr Weekes had done it to me but my train of thought was interrupted by his voice.

"Want some help?" he asked and I sat back on my heels as Mr Weekes stood up and dropped his underwear to his feet.

I froze. Mr Weekes sat back down on the bed and waited patiently but all I could do was stare. My eyes were widened slightly and my mouth was gaped, my lips trembling lightly and I saw a flash of Mr Weekes' grin in my peripheral vision.

"Brendon?" I heard the smirk in his voice. I swallowed and tore my eyes away, looking up at him. I breathed out shakily, willing myself not to give up so easily this time, and shuffled forward. My face was perfect level with his cock and I was struggling to lift my hands from my lap. I knew what I needed to do but my hands had suddenly become disconnected from my brain and stayed fixed in their place until Mr Weekes reached down and held them in his own.