2 Chapter 2

“You still love your flowers then?” Dale noted.

“That’s right,” Tom replied. “Got to love flowers.”

As Dale climbed the stairs he tried not to stare at the way the muscles of his uncle’s perfectly rounded arse cheeks moved beneath the thin fabric of his trousers, though it was difficult not to. Tom was clearly wearing nothing but a G-string underneath and his perfect model of a male butt was directly in Dale’s line of vision. He could see every detail, including the way the seam sat, tucked neatly into the crack of his uncle’s arse, and the dark shadow beneath, which could only be arse hair. He found himself picturing his uncle’s naked arsehole, deep pink, puckered and surrounded by thick hair, and for the second time in a few minutes he felt himself getting hard, though this time his cock grew to full mast. When they neared the top of the stairs, Tom glanced over his shoulder.

“Not far to go now,” he said.

Dale smiled but couldn’t look his uncle in the eye. Had this tall, athletic man noticed his erection? The thought had barely evaporated when he caught his uncle stealing another look. Dale blushed. If Tom hadn’t seen it the first time, he certainly had the second time. Dale was grateful for the silence that ensued and when he was sure that his uncle had finished looking he adjusted himself, pushing the offending erection up against his belly so the zipper of his fly hid the bulk of it. It was an old trick he’d learnt at school. It had come in handy for those spontaneous teenage erections that always seemed to pop up just before the bus pulled in at his stop or immediately before being called on to deliver a presentation in class.

They walked down a long carpeted corridor. The walls here were apple green, too, and displayed paintings of naked men in exotic landscapes. Lean, young men with defined bodies, some smooth and others with lightly-haired torsos, reclined lazily on rocks by gently flowing rivers, or fucked amongst the lush foliage of some anonymous jungle. In another painting a handful of muscular warriors were dancing wildly around a fire, their erections lit by the orange light of the flames, and in another a group of naked and semi-naked youths were working under a hot sun, bronzed and muscled, their brows beaded with sweat. The images were raw and earthy. They appealed not only aesthetically, as art, but as something he could imagine himself getting quite lost in if given the chance.

“I hope my little collection doesn’t offend you,” said Tom. “My taste isn’t everyone’s idea of fine art.”

“No. No, it doesn’t,” Dale replied, a little too quickly.

Finally, Tom came to a stop in front of a white door with a polished brass doorknob.

“Here we are,” he announced. “Your room. My room’s just here and the bathroom’s at the end of the corridor. There are other bathrooms, of course, which you are free to use, but this one’s the most convenient.”

Dale nodded and followed his uncle into the room that had been prepared for him.

“Very nice,” he said. “Spacious too, although anything would be spacious compared to the student accommodation I’ve had to endure for the past five years.”

“Aw. The things we have to do to get ahead in life,” said Tom, slapping Dale on the back. “Now, you have the run of the place. I have no secrets.” His uncle’s smile broadened. “And it’s the perfect place for you to work on your thesis. Just let Joseph know when you’re working so he doesn’t send the maid up and disturb you.”

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Uncle.”

“Call me Tom. Remember? It’d make me feel much more comfortable.”

“Okay. Sorry. It’s hard to break the habit of a lifetime. Anyway, thanks for letting me stay. I appreciate it. And so do Mum and Dad. They said to say hello.”

“Don’t mention it. It’ll be good to have you around for a bit.”

Tom ruffled Dale’s hair the way he used to when Dale was a boy, his touch firm and masculine, and producing an unexpected reaction. Hormones. He could feel them flooding into his blood. His cock, which was still semi-hard, twitched within the confines of his pants.

“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” Tom said as he walked over to the door. “That should give you enough time to freshen up and settle in.”

Dale thanked his uncle and started unpacking. He found that the built in wardrobes had dozens of vinyl-covered wooden coat hangers, which was just as well since he’d forgotten to bring any. He removed the few carefully packed collared shirts and his jeans, smoothed them out and then hung them up, and placed everything else—his large collection of T-shirts, underwear, and socks—neatly into the drawers of an antique tall boy. He put his laptop on the desk by the window and pushed a bag containing his books and research notes underneath. He liked everything in its place, neat and tidy and uniform. It was an unfortunate side-effect of being born a Virgo.