Chapter 10
TEN
It was everything Ryan could have hoped for and more.
Graeme was just as eager and sensual as he’d imagined he would be.
More so, because part of Ryan had worried Graeme would be stiff and self-conscious, considering his past experience.
But he threw himself into every kiss and touch, and he enjoyed it so much when Ryan sucked him off that after they took a nap, ordered a room service supper, rushed to tidy the room and hide the evidence of what they’d done, accepted and eaten their supper, they’d done it all again.
The second time, Graeme took a much more active role, exploring Ryan’s body like it was a revelation.
As much as Ryan hated the fact that he hadn’t brought any condoms or lube with him, since sex was the last thing he thought would happen at Mavis’s wedding, he didn’t mind keeping things to non-penetrative sex at all.
That wasn’t really the point of what he and Graeme needed from each other anyhow.
If Ryan had any complaints, it was that the twin bed was too narrow for both of them to sleep in comfortably.
They’d agreed to actually sleep in their own beds, once they’d exhausted themselves, long after the sun went down.
But when the first light of morning peeked through the brocade curtains they’d remembered to shut the afternoon before, Graeme slipped out of his bed and into Ryan’s.
“Is this okay?” Graeme asked in a morning-fuzzy voice.
“It’s more than okay, darling,” Ryan said, scooting over slightly, but ultimately pulling Graeme over top of him like a blanket.
Graeme made a contented sound as Ryan kissed his forehead and brushed his fingers through Graeme’s golden hair. “‘Darling’ is something Art would call me,” Graeme said with a sigh.
A moment later, he tensed and pushed himself up to look worriedly at Ryan.
“I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be saying another man’s name when I’m in bed with you,” he said, his warm-fuzzies gone.
“It’s alright,” Ryan said with a smile, urging Graeme to cuddle with him again. “I don’t mind.”
Oddly enough, he truly didn’t mind. His dad’s words from the other day must have sunk in hard. No one was exclusive with anyone yet. Maybe Graeme wouldn’t be hurt if the two of them were together in some sort of more formal way, but they both continued to flirt with Art.
Whatever uncomfortable sticking point it was that kept Ryan from being as laissez-faire about unusual relationships as his family, he carefully tucked it away in favor of enjoying the moment with Graeme. He had to remind himself that not everything had to be resolved immediately.
The two of them drifted off into a cozy sleep as the world stretched and woke up around them.
When the bumps and distant talking and other noise around the house that indicated other people were getting up and making their move woke them again, Ryan couldn’t resist flipping Graeme to his back and pressing their bodies together as they kissed.
“Stop,” Graeme laughed between kisses. “I have terrible morning breath.”
“You don’t really,” Ryan said. Or, at least, he didn’t mind all that much.
He kept their kisses short and playful, though, instead of long and sensual. Instead, he let his hands do the heavy lifting of touching and petting and eventually stroking, until Graeme was restless and panting under him.
“If you don’t want me to come, you’d better stop now,” Graeme gasped as Ryan used the copious amount of precum he produced to stroke his rigid length.
“Why would I want you to stop?” Ryan purred, circling his thumb around Graeme’s slit.
“Damien used to—”
Graeme grunted to a stop as spurts of warmth spilled from him, but Ryan knew at once what would have been a great orgasm was spoiled by the mere mention of Graeme’s other ex.
The mood shifted so fast that Ryan’s own pending orgasm retreated into the shadows as concern for Graeme took its place. Instead of frotting against Graeme’s hip until he came, like he’d planned to, he sank to his side and pulled a panting Graeme into his embrace.
“Sorry,” Graeme winced, turning his face into the pillow.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, love,” Ryan said, brushing Graeme’s hair back from his face. “Damien was a bastard who didn’t deserve you.”
Graeme peeked up at him, only one eye visible. “Did Art tell you what I told him?”
The briefest flash of jealousy that Graeme had confided something so important in Art before telling him hit Ryan, but he had no use for it. Not when his main concern was Graeme.
“He mentioned a bit,” he said. Art had told him about the nasty piece of work who had seduced Graeme, then thrown him over once he had him and got bored.
“I felt like such a fool,” Graeme said, tension leaving his body. “I was too na?ve to know he only wanted me for sex and not a relationship.”
“I don’t think it was even that, sweetheart,” Ryan said, wishing there was some way to speak the truth without being so harsh. “I think he saw you as a toy to play with and then be done with.”
Graeme made a noise of agreement and rested his face against Ryan’s shoulder. “You don’t see me that way,” he said.
Ryan smiled, suddenly filled with joy at his lover’s simple statement. “No, darling, I don’t. I see you as so much more.”
Again, the use of the word ‘darling’ seemed to bring Art into the room.
Ryan didn’t have to ask for confirmation to know that’s where Graeme’s thoughts had gone.
And again, he found that he didn’t mind all that much.
Ryan’s thoughts flew back to Brighton and the bed they’d all shared together.
Maybe they’d get a second chance to make that more than a night of sleeping off cocktails.
They could only laze in bed for so long.
It was obvious that the wedding guests were waking up and filling the halls.
Ryan wanted to get Graeme away from Penwith Grange before the place was so crowded with people who had been and intended to continue being cruel to him could do more damage.
They got up, showered, packed, and headed downstairs before the worst of the rush of relatives happened.
“I’m glad you enjoyed your stay,” Mrs. St. Ives said with genuine kindness as they checked out. “Even if you didn’t particularly enjoy the wedding.”
“You know about all that?” Graeme asked, his pink cheeks making him look younger and sweeter than he was.
Mrs. St. Ives grinned at him. “I told you, I know everything that goes on in my house.” They all laughed, but as they turned to go, Mrs. St. Ives stopped them with, “Mr. Dallen, do you have a business card for your gardening endeavors?”
Graeme blinked, then turned back to the desk. “Actually, I do,” he said, reaching for his wallet.
Ryan watched with pride as Graeme handed over a simple business card with his name and phone number. It was encouraging to think that something might come out of the disaster weekend after all.
That was a load of bollocks, he thought to himself a few minutes later, once they were in the car and on the road back to London.
So many good things had come out of the weekend.
The wedding and the horrible people who had once known Graeme were like gnats in the background.
Apparently, Graeme’s parents had been present, but they hadn’t once thought to seek him out.
On the other hand, if they had gone looking for him, they would have found him on his back, naked, with another man’s mouth wrapped around his cock.
So it all worked out for the best in the end.
“Um, what are we now?” Graeme asked when they were halfway across Wiltshire. “Are we…are we boyfriends?”
His question was so careful and vulnerable that it squeezed Ryan’s heart. “If you like,” he said, pulling his eyes away from the highway to smile at him. He reached across with one hand to grab Graeme’s as well.
“I think I would like,” Graeme said, letting out a breath. “But what about—”
He didn’t finish his question. Ryan knew what he’d been about to ask anyhow.
“Let’s take things one step at a time and see where they go,” he said, being equally vague. His dad might have been ready to leap into something unconventional, but Ryan didn’t want to push Graeme into the gay deep-end before he was ready.
The rest of the drive was relaxing and easy.
The weather was overcast, which didn’t make for the best views, but as it was a Sunday, not as many people were on the roads.
That was particularly handy when they hit the M25, where Ryan veered off from his usual path home to take Graeme back to his flat in Sutton.
“You’re sure it’s alright for me to just drop you here?” he asked as he got out of the car to help Graeme with his bag, though he didn’t really need any help at all.
“It’s fine,” Graeme said with a laugh, like Ryan was being too protective. “Honestly, I’m just going to take a nap and do laundry anyhow. But I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”
Ryan’s heart hadn’t felt lighter in ages. “Of course,” he said.
He boldly stepped forward to circle one arm around Graeme and to kiss him goodbye, even though they were on a relatively busy street in broad daylight. They weren’t around Graeme’s fussy family now, though, they were in Greater London. No one so much as batted an eyelash.
Ryan was sure he’d be smiling the whole way home, but once he got off the M25 again and headed for Hawthorne House, something tight and buzzing slowly filled his gut.
Was he doing the right thing with Graeme?
Was it honest to pursue a relationship with him when Art was such a major part of their lives?
And why did Giorgio Esposito keep popping into his head?
That old bastard would laugh his arse off if he knew Ryan was toying with a three-way relationship with a gardener and an archeologist.