Archer feels a small measure of satisfaction. She has planted a bomb. Dom’s sex life might never be the same again.

Very tragic.

Chapter 21

21

THOMAS BUTLER IS SITTING AT the wobbly pine desk in the bedroom of his student digs in Kensington, catching up with reading that he is way behind on. He is in his second year at Imperial College studying Medicine and has come back early from an extended break at his parents’ after the suicide of his cousin. Thomas tried to grieve but found it hard to forgive his cousin for ending his life without at least trying to talk to him first. So Thomas found himself alone in rural Oxfordshire, avoiding his parents, hating his cousin and all the time trying to suppress his raging horn. It all became too much and he couldn’t stay there any longer.

In the living room down the hallway he hears his bestie and flatmate, Spencer, arguing on the phone to Binks. Again! He is drunk and has barely stopped drinking since the night before when Thomas returned and they went on a bender.

There is a knock on the door and Spence’s wavy blond head appears with the team’s rugby tie wrapped like a bandana around it. His thick lips widen to a grin revealing his flawless white teeth.

‘Tommo, my boy! Don’t tell me you are working. Say it isn’t so.’ His voice is hoarse from too much booze and cigarettes.

‘I’m busy, Spence. Running behind, as always.’

Spence stumbles through the doorway holding a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose. He is wearing his blue Derek Rose check print bathrobe. It’s untied and loose and Thomas can see the crevice of his pecs and below them the line of blond hair that runs from the base of his six pack down into his neatly trimmed golden pubic hair that crowns his long and fat, perfect cock. Thomas wishes Spence would not walk around the flat like that without a care. His feelings for Spence run deeper than just being his best mate and this kind of shit is fucking torture. His mouth waters and he shifts in his tight jeans as the blood rushes to swell his own cock.

‘You’re drunk, Spence.’

Spence drapes himself over Thomas, burying his face in his neck. ‘I fucking love you, mate. I fucking do.’

A warm funk wafts from underneath Spencer’s bathrobe. He has clearly not bathed in days.

‘Spence, you stink.’ Thomas grimaces and frees his hand to push him away, but accidentally brushes his cock causing Spencer to jump back.

‘Hey, Tommo, wait just a minute!’ he hollers.

Thomas feels his face flushing. Horrified, he turns and looks back into his book.

‘Tommo, you touched my old man! Tommooooo,’ laughs Spencer.

‘Who hasn’t touched that old man, Spence? It’s been everywhere.’

‘True. But when you got so much love to give . . .’