Chapter Twenty-Six
Oliver
Once we’d convinced Sparrow to stop standing on Lane, and I’d managed to choke down the last of my laughter, we decided to light the barbecue and try cooking the sausages.
My ribs hurt from laughing so much, but luckily, Lane didn’t want my assistance, so I leant against the rock and picked at the other nibbles, keeping a watchful eye on Sparrow who kept trying to slide her nose into various packets.
Lane coaxed the small barbecue to life, sipping his drink as he watched the charcoal smoke and glow. At least this time around, one of us knew what we were doing, and it didn’t take long before he was laying sausages out on the metal grille and carefully turning them with the tongs.
“Smells good,” I said, offering him the tube of salt-and-vinegar Pringles I was holding.
“They might actually be edible.” Lane grinned, putting his drink down to grab a handful of Pringles. He began to eat them one-handed while giving the sausages another poke.
“Edible shouldn’t be the benchmark, but in this case, I guess it is.”
“At least the bar is so low I don’t have to do anything more than step over it,” Lane said.
“Maybe I should set you a challenge or something. Have you try to cook chicken kebabs on one of these. Or steak.”
“I am not cooking good steak on some shitty disposable barbecue on the beach,” Lane said, pointing the tongs at me. “Steak is for cooking nicely at home. But I can definitely do you some kebabs if you’re desperate.”
“I’m okay,” I said, reaching into the tube of Pringles again and wondering why it was half-empty already. “I’d rather just do another barbecue at home with everyone. Or just dinner if the weather turns shit.”
“It gets a bit cramped in my house with everyone there.” Lane reached for his drink. “I don’t have a big enough table, and we can all sit on the floor, but it gets a bit annoying after a while. Especially because Sparrow tries to steal from everyone.”
“Well, we could just use the cottage instead,” I said without even thinking about it. “There’s plenty of room there.”
Lane stared at me, mouth half-open, and I realised I hadn’t considered where I was going to live. My brain had just assumed it would be with Lane, but I hadn’t actually asked him, and we obviously hadn’t talked about whose house we’d live in.
That discussion really needed to be added to my mental list of things to sort.
“Sorry,” I added. “I don’t know why I just assumed that.
We should probably talk about the whole living arrangements thing.
” I emptied the last of the Pringles into my hand, holding them out to see if Lane wanted any since I’d eaten three-quarters of the tube by myself. “We don’t have to do it now, though.”
Lane took some of the Pringles and looked at the tube, which I sheepishly tipped upside down to show him it was empty. He laughed. “Remind me never to leave you alone with Pringles.”
“They’re just too good! Especially the salt-and-vinegar ones,” I said, stuffing the last ones into my mouth. “They’re so moreish. The paprika ones are the same. You think you’re just going to have a couple, then suddenly they’re all gone.”
“Like right now.”
“Shut up. I bought another tube.” I rustled in one of the bags, pulling out the second tube of Pringles and putting the empty one in its place. I popped it open and offered some to Lane, who took another handful before going back to the sausages.
“These are nearly ready,” he said. “If you wanted to open that pack of buns.” I snorted, and Lane shook his head. “Are you that hard up that you’re laughing at the word buns?”
“No, I think I’m just tired. And relieved. I was so stressed this afternoon, and now that the tension has gone, I’m just laughing at anything.” I put the tube on a rock and opened the pack of hot dog buns, pulling a few out and resting them on top of the packet.
“I get that,” Lane said. “Don’t worry. After this, I’ll take you home and help you work out the rest of the stress.”
That time I did laugh. “What is it with you and cheesy pickup lines? They can’t ever have worked!”
“You’d be surprised.” He shrugged and reached for one of the buns. “If I make a meat joke, are you going to explode?”
“Depends on how cheesy it is,” I said, watching Lane pick up one of the sausages and work it into the bun. “I might just groan instead.”
Lane grinned and handed me the bun. “Baby, you always groan when you’ve got my meat in your mouth.”
“Nope, nope, can’t do it,” I said, shaking my head and laughing. “That was awful. Like one hundred out of ten awful.”
“You still laughed. And it’s the truth,” Lane said. “Now eat your bloody sausage before the rest of them burn.”
We spent the rest of the evening on the beach, eating progressively crispier sausages, picking at the rest of the nibbles, and walking up and down the beach hand in hand, letting the water wash over our feet.
As the sun started to set, we grabbed our stuff, poured water on the barbecue to cool it, and started to head back, stopping to sit on the rocks and watch the sunset turn the horizon ablaze with colour.
“How did you even get out here?” Lane asked as we walked back towards the car park, Sparrow pottering alongside us.
“I might have called in a favour,” I said. “I told Bastian I had a wild plan and that I’d explain everything over the weekend. He agreed, but now I owe him dinner and the full story.”
Lane threw his head back and laughed, slinging his arm around my waist and kissing the top of my head.
We piled into the van, Sparrow settling on the seat between us, and headed back to Lane’s house.
At my encouragement, Lane headed upstairs to shower while I took everything into the kitchen.
I didn’t really fancy unpacking, so I just left everything on the side to come back to later.
Sparrow had already found her place on the sofa and was snoring loudly as I made my way upstairs.
I heard the shower running in the small bathroom between the two bedrooms, and I quickly stripped off in our room before walking onto the landing.
The bathroom door was ajar, and I pushed it open, letting the billow of steam clear so I could get a good look at Lane.
He stood under the spray of the shower, his back to me, giving me the most glorious view of water running down his ass.
Pushing the bathroom door closed behind me, I padded towards him. He must have heard me because he turned and shot me a wicked smile as his eyes roamed across my body. He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t give him a chance.
I opened the shower door and stepped inside, walking under the water and backing him up against the tiles, letting the spray run over our heads as I pinned him against the wall with my body, my mouth finding his.
Lane groaned, parting his lips as I slipped my tongue between them, his hands wrapping around me to pull me closer against him.
His thigh slotted between my legs, and his hand slid down to squeeze my ass. My cock brushed against his, sending a shiver through me despite the warmth of the water. Lane’s hip twitched, and my body took it as an invitation to grind against him, my dick filling with every burst of friction.
Soon, I was rutting frantically against him as we made out, one of Lane’s hands holding me against him and squeezing my ass while the other cradled the back of my neck, the tips of his fingers caressing my hairline. Sparks zipped across my skin, and I melted against him.
“Lane,” I gasped, breaking our kiss to lean my head against his shoulder, panting into his neck. “Please.”
I didn’t even know what I was asking for; all I knew was that I needed more. This wasn’t going to be enough to make me come, but it was still sending me closer and closer to the edge, and I knew it was going to hold me there until Lane gave me what I needed.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Lane said. His hand released my ass, and suddenly, I felt myself being turned as he flipped us around.
The tiles were cool against my spine as Lane pressed me against them, the water still cascading over us.
His kiss drew another deep moan from me as he slipped a hand between us, wrapping his fingers around both our shafts.
I gasped as he pumped them slowly, his mouth drawing more desperate moans from my lips as he worked my cock.
I bucked up into his hand, the friction of his cock rubbing against mine sending another bolt of pleasure down my spine.
I wanted to hold out for more, but I knew it was no use because my orgasm was already too close to be denied.
“Lane, I… I’m close,” I said. I reached up to clutch at his chest as my head tipped back against the tiles, water dripping down my face.
“Yeah?” His voice was a murmur, soft as silk but with a razor-sharp edge.
“You look so good like this. So perfect for me.” He tightened his grip on our shafts, jacking them faster.
The heat, the friction, and the tightness were all too much.
It was a perfect storm of sensations, coupled with Lane’s whispered words and decadent kisses, that threatened to reduce me to nothing more than ashes.
“Come for me,” he whispered, his words barely audible over the rush of the water.
But they were loud enough.
I cried out as I came, my cock spilling thick ropes of cum over his fist. Lane grunted, quickening his pace and drawing out my orgasm until it was almost too much. Then he growled, capturing my mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as he panted out his release, his own cum joining mine on his skin.
“I love you,” he said as he slowly released my cock and pressed a soothing kiss to my swollen lips. “Did you know that? I really fucking love you.”
“I love you too,” I said. “More than anything.”
We stood under the spray, lazily exchanging kisses for another few minutes until we decided it was time to clean up.
The air was deliciously cool on my skin as I stepped out of the shower, and once we’d towelled off, we headed for the bedroom, where the last of the evening sun was pouring through the window.
I felt more relaxed than I had in months, and I knew it was because, for the first time in a long time, I felt settled. Like something I hadn’t even known was missing had finally slotted into place.
Yes, there were things that needed to be worked out—my job and where we would live being the most pressing—but in that moment, those concerns felt strangely small. Like for tonight, I could forget all about them and just be.
Because as long as I had Lane, nothing else mattered. The rest was all details, window dressing for the main event, and while I knew those details would be important tomorrow, I didn’t need them tonight.
All I needed was Lane.