Love Is Always Write Volume 4

each morning were doing nothing to take the edge off. He was like one of Pavlov's dogs; salivating at the sound of the click, click, click of Sam's bike.
    Two weeks later his response became reconditioned to the throaty roar of Sam's newly fixed motorbike, knowing that it signalled the arrival of an evening of sweaty fun with his fuck-buddy. At least that's what he told himself.
    Sam was moving in by stealth. More and more of his possessions were making their way into Nick's house, and as much as he tried to feel indignant about it, Nick had to admit that he didn't mind at all. He enjoyed Sam just being there. After a day at work, to barely be through the front door before his dick was at the back of Sam's throat wasn't to be scoffed at, but he was starting to wonder if it wasn't more of a thrill to wake up in the night to feel Sam's body pressed against his. And that scared him.
    Because he was kidding himself if he thought that it could work out between them. A relationship between a vivacious young guy like Sam and a grumpy old man like Nick couldn't last. And the more time he spent with Sam, the more he was beginning to think he wanted it to.
    ****
    When Sam started to organise his birthday treat, Nick knew he was well and truly buggered.
    Sam bounced up and down on the bed. "So, what we doing for your birthday?"
    Nick swore he could hear the emphasis on the word 'we.'
    "I dunno, I hadn't even thought about it yet," Nick told him truthfully. "We could stay in and fuck, if you like?"
    "Well yeah, I would like. But we can do that any time."
    "I know. We do."
    Sam gave another excited bounce. "Sooo, wouldn't it be nice to go out somewhere?" Puppy-dog eyes looked pleadingly at Nick.
    Actually the thought of being seen out with Sam was less than appealing. Nick knew the looks they'd get. Sam and his sugar daddy out on the town. Nick sighed, but before he could work out a convincing argument, Sam played his trump card. "We can always fuck all night afterwards? I mean, it's your birthday, but..."
    Sam leant forward giving Nick a tight nip against his chest.
    Nick knew he wasn't going to win this one. "Okay." It was almost worth conceding for the triumphant look Sam gave him. "Where do you want to go?"
    "It'll have to be somewhere cheap, because I'm paying, and I won't have any money left after I've bought you the best present ever ."
    Nick was intrigued. "Really?" He eyed Sam suspiciously. "Is it something rude?" Probably a great big butt plug knowing Sam.
    Sam gave him a little prod in the gut. "Now that would be telling wouldn't it? Don't worry. You're gonna love it."
    Nick wasn't worried at all. Not at all.
    ****
    "Are you sure this is safe?" Nick asked, casting his eyes over the rather decrepit looking motorbike Sam had pulled up on. He might have had it fixed, but now it was just a working piece of shit.
    "Of course it's safe. You have been on a motorbike before haven't you?"
    Nick shook his head. "Actually, no, and seeing as I met you when you crashed into me I'm not that convinced about your driving ability."
    Sam rolled his eyes. "That was a moment's lack of judgement. Seriously, I'll go easy on you, seeing as you're a virgin." He handed Nick a helmet. "Just lean with me, okay?"
    Nick reluctantly clambered on and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist.
    Sam turned to him. "You ready?"
    Nick's helmet-clad head bobbed up and down. Ready as he'd ever be.
    ****
    Mamma Rosa's was a weird little place. Cheap and - not so - cheerful, with checked plastic tablecloths. The sort of place where you didn't dare check the 'Scores on the Doors.' But Nick couldn't exactly complain. It was Sam's treat, so moaning about the fake carnations that graced the table (how much were real carnations for fuck's sake?) would be pretty ungrateful. And at least it was quiet.
    The surly waitress showed them to a table tucked away right at the back and they ordered a couple of beers. Nick wasn't sure if it was a good thing that she paid so little attention to them. Maybe she thought they were father and son, out for a nice meal together. The thought made him cringe.
    Maybe she realised what they actually were. A middle-aged man and his early twenties live-in - yes, live-in, if Sam had his way - lover. That made him cringe even more.
    He looked up at the waitress' retreating back as she went to get their drinks. Most likely she didn't give a shit who they were. He relaxed a little.
    He turned to Sam. "What you having?" he asked, running his eyes