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  He felt Ukeme's lips curve beneath his in a smile. "Where do you keep your stuff?"

  "My bedroom. Second door. Up the stairs. To your right," Bola said.

  Ukeme pulled him and they moved quickly through the living room, up the short stairs.

  He'd never heard a more satisfying sound than the sound of his door slamming against the wall as Ukeme pushed it open.

  Ukeme pushed him onto the bed. He'd barely acclimatized to the sheets when Ukeme's weight on him.

  Fuck. Ukeme's cock was sliding against him, warm skin to warm skin, their precum helping the sliding along. When had Ukeme gotten rid of his pants?

  Then he heard some banging, some swearing, and the blessed sound of nylon tearing, and then, the pop of a bottle of lube.

  He stood corrected. That was the most satisfying sound he'd ever heard.

  "Move up a bit," Ukeme said, his words tickling his navel. Bola shivered and hefted himself off, relaxing on Ukeme's hands when they wedged themselves beneath his ass cheek.

  A slick finger worked its way into his hole, and his hands curled on the sheets and he pushed his ass onto the hand seeking more friction. Ukeme slid the finger all the way in, curled it, and pulled it back out.

  "Fuck."

  "The only words you can say when you're all worked up, it would seem," he heard Ukeme say. He figured it would be a bad idea to back-talk a man who had a finger in his ass, and who was surely making plans of adding one more or even two more to stretch him, so he kept quiet, just moved his ass in a dance with that finger.

  Ukeme chuckled. But thankfully, he didn't try withholding. He slid in a second finger and worked it in. In and out. Turning them around on a slide and curving them just right when they went as deep as they could go.

  Something clenched in Bola's stomach and he made a long drawn out sound. Nothing human about it.

  Ukeme didn't say anything to that. Just kept working both fingers and Bola started to babble. "Please. Hard. Move. There. Curve. Please. Try. Fuck. Shit. Hard."

  The words had no effect. Ukeme just kept right on sliding those two fingers in and Bola rode them as hard as he could.

  "You have to fuck me," he begged just as he was about to scream.

  "Just what I wanted to hear," Ukeme said and slid the third finger in, taking his time to glide over Bola's rapidly-multiplying sensitive endings all the way to deep in that hole. He pulled back out, lifted Bola's hips, aligned himself, bent over, so Bola could feel those warm lips against his ear. His skin could feel the hot breath as it left Ukeme's nostrils.

  Bola felt the sharp pain of teeth biting down and he yelped. And then moaned when Ukeme pushed in on that same stroke.

  They both groaned.

  "Fuck," Bola said.

  "Oh, hell yeah," Ukeme said as he pulled out, as slow as he could get, and then slid right back in.

  Bola was just about to snap at him not to do any form of delaying when Ukeme slid back in, then right back out, setting the movement for short and fast. Quick strokes that had that hard cock thrusting hard.

  "Harder," Bola panted.

  Ukeme picked up, his thrusts moving deeper. Harder. Faster. So fast that Bola's bed began to quake and squeak. The sound of flesh slapping flesh and the smell of skin and sweat and sex filling his room.

  "Shit," Ukeme breathed and Bola's hands found their way around Ukeme's hands on his thighs and shifted his ass back, meeting those thrusts as hard and deep as he could take them.

  A roiling sensation started in his toes and trailed its way, lightning speed up his legs and up his thighs. His legs started to quiver. "I'm gonna…"

  The words had barely left his lips when Ukeme flipped him around so he was lying on his back. "Not again," Bola started to say, and stopped when Ukeme covered his body with his.

  Ukeme leaned forward and covered his lips, sliding tongue and using teeth. He caught Bola's lower lip with his teeth, nipped lightly and slid in all at one, his body undulating over Bola's.

  Bola's body moved right along, his hips pumping, his ass working and his fingers sliding up so they were over hanging on Ukeme's back.

  Fuck, he was so close.

  Ukeme flexed his hips hard. Bola's nails dug in and he exploded with a howl, sending cum splaying across Ukeme's waist and dripping onto the sheets.

  Ukeme followed shortly, groaning and shuddering as he threw his head back.

  They rolled onto their backs, Ukeme's legs stretched over Bola's hips and Bola's arm wedged beneath Ukeme's ass, and they tried to catch their breath.

  Several long pants later, Bola slowly started to come back to earth. He rolled onto his side, so he was looking at Ukeme. Ukeme rolled right back and they grinned at each other. "That was…" Bola started.

  "Amazing," Ukeme finished with just as big a grin. "Definitely ranks as one of my top ten."

  "Well, we can't have that, can we?" Bola grinned. "Give me a while to recover, and we'll see about boosting it up to your top five."

  Ukeme chuckled. Bola chuckled right along.

  Someone's phone vibrated.

  "Let's ignore it," Bola said. They'd left the restaurant at about nine-thirty. Anybody calling either of them right now could just as easily wait till morning. Right now, he had plans to snuggle with Ukeme. "Snuggle?"

  "In a moment." Ukeme pushed off the bed and padded unerringly towards the bathroom. Bola, of course, enjoyed the view, watching those muscles work and flex. For a couch potato writer, Ukeme looked pretty damn good with and without clothes.

  Ukeme came right back out, his long cock swinging between his legs. A chuckle had Bola looking up, and Ukeme waved the wet cloth he had in his hands. "Got to get you cleaned up. Then we can snuggle."

  Bola rolled over, presenting his body, whimpering and shuddering as Ukeme cleaned him carefully and thoroughly. His spent cock tried perking up, but thankfully stayed low.

  With both of them cleaned up, Ukeme tossed the rag away and crawled into bed with him, wrapping his arm around him and burying his nose into Bola's shoulder. "Night," he murmured.

  "Night," Bola said right back as he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

  chapter eleven

  "When are we going to meet her?"

  The words were as unexpected as the tone in which they'd been spoken, and Ukeme dropped the newspaper he'd been reading to stare at his mother. She met his eyes with a smile of her own, not looking in any way like someone who had just changed the gender of the person her son could possibly like.

  It was one of those days again?

  "It's a guy, ma," Ukeme said.

  His father snorted from his corner, where he was at the moment catching Sunday's Arsenal game. Thankfully, he didn't contribute anything to the conversation. The way he was shaking his head stated where he stood on his second child—and only son's—sexual preference.

  Luckily, his elder sister loved kids and was now pregnant with her sixth child. Plus, she'd given all her kids her father's and husband's last name, hyphenated, of course, like the modern woman she was. Her acceptance of his choice in sexual and love partners had also gone a long way in tamping down his parents' reaction when he came out to them.

  It didn't mean that occasionally, his mother didn't try her luck, hoping that maybe that was the day when her only son would tell her that he'd liked girls as well. The reason, of course, was because she wanted more grandchildren. The six his sister had already provided wasn't quite enough for her.

  With the way she pushed her nose up in the air and turned her attention to the tray of beans she was picking, separating the good grains from the shaft, it confirmed her disappointment.

  His sister, though, wasn't as disappointed. "That's great," Ima said, and waddled over to take her seat right beside him. She grabbed onto his hands. "Who's the lucky guy?" she gushed. He made to tell her, but she held up one hand. "Wait. Wait. Don't tell me. Let me guess: you met him at your writer's group?"

  Well, in a way, Bogobiri was a creative group.

  He nod
ded.

  "And he was so blown away by your writing that you started dating almost instantly?"

  Well, he kinda got inspired by it, and I thought he'd stolen my work without giving me any credit, but yeah, let's go with that.

  He nodded again.

  Ima clapped her hands together. "That's great news."

  "What's great about him thinking he's in love with a man," his mother snapped as she tore one kidney bean out of its shell and flicked the shell off with her finger.

  "In love with a man," his father sniffed. "Ha!"

  Ima ignored the both of them and just continued almost bouncing on her seat. "What's his name?"

  And here was where the problem was. His father, just hearing the name Johnson, would lose it, and he was sure his mother would practically keel over if she heard as well.

  "Bola," Ukeme said.

  "Bola," Ima said.

  "Strange name for a boy," his mother mumbled.

  "Yoruba boy," his father sniffed. "Ha!"

  "Nothing wrong with the boy being Yoruba," his sister interrupted with a glare and her arms crossed.

  Their father, though, didn't reply. Just turned his attention right back to the television and their mother gave a loud sniff and went back to pic beans.

  Ima leaned closer so she could whisper. "Tell me all about him."

  "It's kind of a long story. Tell you outside?"

  She nodded and pulled back.

  Ukeme got up first and offered her a hand. She brushed it away and pushed off from the seat, nearly losing her balance, but recovering fast enough to waddle out of the living room with a chuckle.

  She ignored their mother's stink eye and their father's side eye and kept up the laughter till they stepped out into the veranda. The minute they got on, she closed the door behind her, dragged one of the wick chairs over, and situated it against the door and took her seat.

  "Now, tell me all about Bola. Does he have a last name?" Ima said.

  Ukeme laughed. "That's the funniest thing. Is there anyone who doesn't have one?"

  She gave him a long, drawn-out look.

  "Okay. I take that back. Is there any Nigerian you know who doesn't have one?"

  She glared at him.

  "Bola Johnson."

  She cocked her head. "Bola Johnson. Bola Johnson," she shook her head. "Why does that name sound so familiar? I could have sworn I've heard it somewhere."

  The moment of truth. He'd thought he could keep it for long enough especially because although his sister followed celebrity news, he was sure it wouldn't have crossed her mind that the same man he spilled vitriol on, on Twitter months back, was the man he was now seeing.

  He knew when it clicked for her. The way she sucked in air and her eyes widened. "No," she said.

  He went down on his knees, took her hands in his and begged. "Don't."

  "You have got to be kidding me. You're seeing Blaze?! The same 'you piece of thieving asshole' Blaze? The man you're dating is Bola Johnson?!"

  "Keep it down," Ukeme whispered and glanced at the windows. No curtains shifted or swayed. Neither of their parents was eavesdropping. There was a good thing in it being a guy he was talking about. If it had been a girl, he was sure his mother would have had her ears glued to the door and his father would have left a nose imprint on the window.

  "Keep it down?" His sister chuckled. "They're going to kill you."

  "Why, though?" Ukeme said. "Not like I'm marrying the guy. They would probably never meet him."

  "So it's just sex?" Ima asked.

  He almost answered that 'what else would it be?', but stopped and considered. What were they doing? He was sure his parents would hate Blaze—a spoiled musician from an ultra-rich family, whose father had gotten rich off of the land, and poisoned the waters so Ukeme's father couldn't fish back home anymore. An occurrence that had caused him to move his entire family to Lagos. Plus, Blaze's parents wouldn't welcome him either. He leaned back to catch a glimpse of the three-bedroom apartment that his family called home. They didn't even own the building outright. Were still paying rent. Plus, he wasn't a successful guy. He was just a writer. If there was even a chance in hell that Blaze's father would consider the possibility of his son being gay, Ukeme doubted if the man would accept that his son was in a relationship with a no future in sight writer.

  "That complicated, huh?" Ima sounded wry, and Ukeme chuckled.

  "His family. Ours." Ukeme moved and buried his face in his hands. "Let's just say that nobody's going to be happy about the news. Plus," he licked his lips, "we haven't really had that conversation yet."

  "Had what conversation? Where you're at? Where you're going?" Ima poked him on his shoulder. "You've been too busy sticking your dicks into holes." She chortled at her joke and Ukeme just glared at her.

  Of course she was right. His ass still twinged from Bola deciding he wanted to own it last night. But his dick perked at the thought of returning the favor after he was done with the drama of visiting his parents.

  "Ugh. TMI," Ima said and covered her face with her palm. She peeked at him from between her fingers. "Stop thinking it."

  "You brought it up," Ukeme pointed out.

  "I was just pointing out that the two of you need to have that conversation. Know what you are to each other. If there would be any meeting of the parents involved. Or if he plans on putting you up in some house in the middle of god-knows-where so as to keep prying eyes out of your business." She stretched her palm so it covered his shoulder. "Sit down. Take a break from all the sex and have a conversation. Strategize. If anything, so you know whether or not you need to start preparing the ammunition if it's a full-term, legit thing."

  Maybe that was what he was scared of? Of approaching Bola and asking him where they were going and having Bola look at him like the village madman asking something Bola himself had never thought of or even considered.

  How exactly did one ask a fuck buddy whether or not they were for real?

  *~*~*

  Turned out, it wasn't a question that needed asking. Bola brought it up, all by himself.

  "Or don't you want to?" He looked so worried, so unsure of himself that Ukeme leaned forward and kissed him, let his tongue slide in and had his fingers wrap around the neck and pull Bola closer. Bola, bless him, followed the movement and leaned into the kiss.

  When they finished and were panting suitably, Ukeme whispered against Bola's lips, "I want to. Just wasn't sure it was what you wanted." He pulled back so he could stare into those brown eyes. "Sure you want to do this?"

  Bola laughed and flicked his chin—something he'd been doing a lot of late. "It's just meeting your sister…"

  "And my parents," Ukeme was quick to add.

  Bola nodded. "And your parents. One would think maybe you were scared that they would devour me or something."

  That in itself was a possibility. Either that or kidnap him and demand that his father give all his money right back to the people he 'stole' it from.

  The worry must have shown on his face, because Bola gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. "Stop worrying," he said with a smile. "Everything will work out well."

  "Says you," Ukeme said. "My parents are not as nice as I am."

  "You mean nicer than your dick self, insulting me when I called you?" Bola teased.

  Ukeme flipped him off and Bola chuckled.

  Of course, this gave him the opportunity to ask what he'd been thinking about ever since Ima mentioned it. "So does that mean we're…" he motioned at the two of them. "You know."

  "Nope. I don't know. Care to expand on that?" Bola smirked.

  The smug sonofabitch.

  "You know," Ukeme moved his shoulders. "Are we together?"

  "Define together," Bola said, still smiling.

  Ukeme was just about to snap at him when Bola rose from his seat and walked to just behind him. He placed his fingers on Ukeme's shoulders and started to knead.

  Damn, that felt good.

  Ukeme groa
ned.

  "Good," he heard Bola whisper against his skin.

  A flicker of a tongue.

  Ukeme shivered. "Very good."

  "So, define 'together'," Bola said just as his tongue dipped into Ukeme's ear.

  Ukeme dug his fingers into the sofa and threw his head back. Not like Bola took him up on the offer. The man just pulled away completely.

  Tease.

  "Ukeme," Bola sing-songed.

  "Are we together?" Ukeme snapped. "Boyfriends. Dating. Whatever the hell you want to call it."

  That got him a chuckle. How things had changed from when Bola would have immediately snapped. Or huffed.

  Actually, that was him. Bola didn't do that. He did that.

  "Do you want to be?"

  But then again, Bola liked to ask the strangest, most annoying questions. "If I didn't, would I have asked?"

  "Actually, you didn't ask," Bola said.

  Trust the smartass to catch him on a technicality.

  "You just found a way of sneaking the question in," Bola continued. He spun Ukeme around till they stood in the center of Bola's living room staring into each other's eyes. "Do you want to?"

  Ukeme raised his hand and ran it down the side of Bola's face. Those dimples made their reappearance and he spoke even as he leaned in to kiss his now-boyfriend. "Why waste both our time when you know the obvious answer is 'yes'?" He reached for Bola's hips and pulled, till Bola landed on his laps and then proceeded to relearn a mouth he was fast getting addicted to.

  "Good. So. Like. A. Good. Boyfriend. I. Think. It's. Only. Fair. I. Meet. Your. Parents," Bola said amidst moans, grunts and kissing.

  "Only if you let me meet yours," Ukeme said, hoping that they would at least give the boyfriend-meeting-the-whole-parents issue a bit more time so he could enjoy more of the kisses.

  "Perfect. You can meet mine this weekend."

  Just like that, their kissing came to a stop. Ukeme pulled back and blinked. He still had Bola Johnson on his lap. Bola Johnson, who was, at the moment, reaching out with pursed lips, so he could connect said lips with Ukeme's.

  "What?" Ukeme asked. He knew his voice had gone higher than he'd wanted it to. Thankfully, Bola didn't say anything about it. "I thought your parents didn't know?"