Burchester Tales 6: Time to Eat

Gus is hungry for more than pasta, in this week's episode of Burchester Tales.

Burchester Tales: Episode 6

Time to Eat by H. Lewis-Foster

Gus opened the front door, fervently hoping all his flatmates were out. He was nervous enough as it was, without their knowing looks and winks. Gus said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods of carnal karma, when he realised the flat was unusually quiet.

While Gus longed to continue what Lee had started outside the pub, his grumbling stomach wouldn’t allow it. Leaving Lee in the living room, he dashed into the kitchen and set water to boil for pasta, one of the few reliable items in his culinary repertoire. He opened the fridge and reached for a bottle of wine; then he swapped it for a carton of apple juice.

Gus didn’t want a repeat of Lee’s adverse reaction to alcohol, and looked forward to a rare evening of teetotal romance. Gus was pouring two glasses of juice, when Lee appeared in the doorway.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You can stop being so damn cute, thought Gus, as he handed Lee his apple juice. “You can grab the spaghetti from the cupboard, if you like.”

Lee opened the door of the corner cupboard and bent down to the bottom shelf. Gus honestly hadn’t asked him to do it on purpose, but the view of Lee’s pert backside gave Gus a flashback to Saturday night, which caused familiar stirrings in his boxers. Gus was so tempted to lay his hands on Lee’s gorgeous arse, he was positively relieved when Lee stood and handed him the pasta

As Gus shook the brittle strands from the pack, Lee hovered next to him. Gus couldn't stop his hand trembling slightly, and a dozen sticks of pasta tumbled to the floor.

“Shit,” Gus muttered, and crouched down to tidy up the mess, only to be joined by Lee’s helping hands a second later.

“Let me help.” Lee fumbled on the floor to gather the spilled spaghetti, and his fingers brushed against Gus’s hand. When Lee’s tousled hair tickled against Gus's cheek, and his lips curved into one of those adorable smiles, every drop of will power evaporated from Gus’s body. He took Lee’s face in his hands and kissed him, gently at first; Lee might have made the first move earlier, but Gus knew from their conversations how little experience he'd had. When Lee’s hand snaked round his waist, however, it was clear Lee wouldn’t be alarmed if Gus took things further or faster.

The pasta crunched beneath them, as their tongues tangled in each other’s mouths, and they tugged at one another’s clothes; Gus couldn’t believe how quickly this was happening. If Lee was as inexperienced as he claimed, he was one hell of a fast learner. Gus was anticipating his own personal first—he’d never had sex on the kitchen floor before—when his fantasies crashed to a sudden halt.

“Is that you Gus, you randy bastard?” Ian’s Irish accent was unmistakable. “And I assume that’s the delicious Davy down there with you.”

Ian was one of his best friends, but Gus could have happily thumped him. “Fuck off, Ian. We’re just tidying up.”

“Is that what you call it?” Ian’s grinning face peered over the kitchen table, then froze when he caught sight of Lee. “Oh bugger. You’re not Davy.”

Lee slowly stood up, gamely offering his hand in greeting as he rose. “No, I’m Lee. Nice to meet you.”

“This is Ian, my prat of a flatmate.” Gus gave Ian a withering look. “I told you I’d split up with Davy.”

“But I didn’t know you’d moved on so soon.” Ian discreetly eyed Lee, plainly comparing his less conventional looks with Davy’s outright handsomeness. Gus felt like punching Ian again, but he took the diplomatic option and invited him to join them for dinner. Ian’s eyes glinted mischievously, and for a second Gus thought he might actually accept.

“That’s very kind of you, Gus, but I have a prior engagement. Chris is broken-hearted, and I have to go and console him. You two have a good time.” Ian winked as he turned to leave. “I won't be back till late.”

When they finally heard the front door slam, Gus looked apologetically at Lee. “I’m so sorry about that. Ian’s a good bloke, but he does have a tendency to put his size ten foot in it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lee switched off the hob, as the saucepan boiled over. “Now let’s eat this stuff, shall we? You must be starving by now.”

Gus had never been so ravenous, for food, for sex, for Lee’s slender body, and Lee seemed equally keen, but Gus still felt slightly guilty when he asked, “Shall we eat in my room?”

The words were barely out of Gus’s mouth, when Lee replied, “Absolutely.”

While Lee dished up the pasta, with liberal helpings of garlicky oil and cheese, Gus sneaked into his room, where he stuffed dirty socks in his laundry bag and shoved scattered books onto his desk. The room looked vaguely presentable when he showed Lee in, and they sat on the hurriedly made bed. They tucked into their remarkably tasty meal, and when their bowls were almost empty, Lee began to chuckle.

Gus wondered if he had strings of melted cheese on his chin. “What’s so funny?”

“I was thinking about that scene in Lady and the Tramp, the one where they eat the spaghetti. Have you seen it?”

Gus nodded, and the stirring in his boxers resurfaced, which seemed highly inappropriate when picturing two animated animals. With a shy smile, Lee picked up a long string of spaghetti, and Gus’s cock stood instantly to attention. A moment later, they could hardly keep the pasta in their mouths for giggling, but when their lips touched at the strand’s centre, they were no longer laughing. Gus closed his eyes and lost himself in Lee’s sublime kisses and heavenly touch.

© H. Lewis-Foster 2014. All rights reserved.