Chapter 9 #2
He shakes his head, an arrested expression on his face.
“That’s it, isn’t it. I’ve always thought you were almost in suspended animation, and the way you hovered over him and got him better, he couldn’t have had a better or more caring nurse.
” I grimace at him and he bites his lip.
“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think for a second that you did it with any forethought.
That would be like Scooby Doo writing a criminology handbook.
” He laughs, and I glare at him until he coughs and returns to his ridiculous subject matter.
“I just think you were waiting for him and you didn’t know it.
You’ve been biding your time, waiting for him to see you properly. ”
“I’m sure you’ve taken that plot from a book that probably had the words billionaire and love-child in it,” I say sourly.
He laughs. “Hmm, I think that’s probably one of your old ones. Didn’t I catch you reading your mother’s Mills and Boon once?”
“I was twelve and I told you at the time that it was for the sex scenes,” I say crossly. “And may I remind you that we swore an oath never to mention it again.”
He mimes zipping his mouth but breaks the solemnity when he bursts into peals of laughter. Eventually he straightens up. “I’m sorry. Let’s go back to the fact that you and Milo are obviously destined to be together.”
“Good luck with spinning that. He thinks I’m as bad as Thomas,” I say morosely, that idea still having the power to stun me with how much it hurts.
His laughter dies immediately. “What? Really ?” I nod and he shakes his head. “Rubbish,” he says stoutly. I sneak a look at him. He’s gazing at the field, but I can almost feel all his attention on me now like it’s an invisible shield deflecting blows and protecting me.
“You don’t think I am?” The question is hesitant and comes from the quiet times this week when I’ve lain with Lo’s sleeping form curled against me, his head resting on my shoulder and my nostrils full of the scent of lemon and rosemary, that sharp, sweet aroma which is so him.
From those quiet times that worry has grown and flourished.
“I mean, I’m loud and confident and I do ride roughshod over people sometimes. ”
“Shut up,” he says fiercely, and I subside.
I need him to tell me because Silas always tells the truth.
“Yes, you’re loud and of course you’re confident.
That’s not a sin. You just have a lot to be confident about.
But you’re also kind and generous, blisteringly honest and eminently trustworthy.
I would trust my heart to you.” He smiles.
“I did, and she came back safe and sound.”
“In the spirit of honesty, that was probably more Milo than me. He has an affinity for babies.”
He turns and grabs my arms. “Listen carefully, Niall, and really hear me. You care about people deeply, but you offset that with flippancy, so people don’t spot it immediately.
And I know that if you were to upset someone it would wound you terribly.
You could no more do that to Milo than you could cut off your own arm. ”
I swallow hard, feeling those impassioned words drift over the sore part of me like a soothing ointment mending a crack that was bigger than I thought. But the biggest doubt remains.
“You see that because you know me. He can’t see it, and what if he never does?”
“Then you’ll be hurt,” he says quietly. “Badly. And that worries me, Niall, because I love you and I don’t want to see you hurt.
But then again, I’ll rejoice because you’re finally experiencing true feelings and that’s good.
” He pauses and cocks his head to one side.
“But I don’t think I need to be worried. ”
“Why?”
“Because Milo can’t see you properly for who you are at the moment but deep inside, he knows you. He understands that he can trust you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he’s trusted you with this. He’s given you a side of him that only one other person knows, and he’s done it with the innate knowledge that you’ll treat that gently and you won’t harm him.” He smiles. “So, have a little hope, Niall. I have enough to spare.”
He leaves me soon after that, muttering about how he’s home early enough to bathe Cora for a change, and I smile as I watch him go.
I couldn’t be happier for him because in Oz he’s found someone who loves him completely and watches out for him.
Makes me feel like I can set that down now because it always used to be my job.
I settle back against the fence in my idle watching pose, and I’m so deep in thought that when his hand comes down on my arm, I give a rather high shriek and jump in the air. I whip round to find Milo looking at me. His face is split into a wide grin and his eyes are alight with amusement.
I straighten my clothes. “I did that for you,” I mutter.
He snorts. “Thank you. It was quite lovely.”
I shake my head, trying to conceal my grin, and settle back against the fence, gratified when he immediately leans into me.
I savour the feeling of his warm body against mine and the fact that a week ago he’d have hesitated to touch my hand, and now it’s as if he has part ownership of my body.
Whenever I’m near him some part of him will immediately touch me, whether it’s his hand on my arm or side or the way he’ll swing his legs over mine when we sit watching TV.
And I like it. No, I love it, and that’s a huge revelation to me.
I’ve always thought of myself as very open and I’ve obviously had many sexual partners, but their touches were usually the prelude or finish to a sexual act.
Milo’s touch comes quite simply because he wants to touch me.
We stand quietly for a while until he shivers and I turn to him. He’s wearing black skinny jeans, old Vans, and a thin black jumper under some sort of oversized grey woollen hoody. I frown. “No wonder you’re cold. You’ve got hardly any clothes on for gallivanting about in the woods.”
He smirks. “You okay there? Did you enjoy your trip back to Victorian England?”
I smile and shake my head. “Your pertness is quite frankly over the top nowadays.”
He laughs and settles his body further into me, and I kiss the top of his head and inhale the scent of lemon and rosemary that clings to him. He stiffens as if surprised and I immediately launch into counter manoeuvres. “Milo, your hair is extraordinary. It’s expanding as I look at it.”
“Shut up.” He nudges me. “I can’t help it. It’s flyaway.”
“But it isn’t,” I say patiently. “Because it’s all still here rather than flying off somewhere.
” I savour his laughter about something he was so worried about at one time and drag him close.
He mumbles objections, but they’re so fainthearted they’re laughable because the truth is that Milo is a cuddler too.
In bed he’s like a human octopus when he goes to sleep. All arms and happy snuffling.
I fish my thick gloves out. “Here, put these on. You’re freezing.”
He shakes his head but lets me help him and only raises his eyebrows when I remove my beanie from a pocket and pull it down over his mass of hair, loving the way it accentuates his winged eyebrows and sharp chin.
With his eyes sparkling with mirth he looks so cute I can’t stand it, so I go back to my view of the field.
“Why are you watching Phil plough?” he says after a few minutes of silence. “Are you looking for tips in case the estate managing gig falls through?”
“The only way I’m falling through anything is in a big hole and I’d still have to dig it because Phil can’t do anything right,” I say tartly. “This morning I asked him to turn over the ground in the east field. It’s only pure chance that I managed to stop him ploughing up the Kayling Lawn.”
He shudders. “The tales Oz has told me about that place, I hope you were wearing a Hazmat suit.”
“With a full face guard. You can’t afford to take chances,” I say solemnly, loving the way he laughs.
It’s open and joyous rather than the muted sounds he always used to make, which were immediately followed by a haunted glance around like he was going to be punished for the gift of laughter.
I inhale deeply to quell the desire to punch Thomas, which grows stronger every day.
He looks at me curiously. “You okay?”
“Yes, of course,” I say hurriedly. “Just a bit tense with all the work on here.”
He stares at me for a long second and then grins, but it’s a wicked smile with mischief written over every centimetre of his face.
“Oh no,” I say slowly. “That look never means good things.”
“It does,” he says primly. “But just for you.”
“You bet it’s just for me,” I growl and then flush as he looks at me with his mouth open in amazement.
To forestall any smart remarks I fit my lips to his, kissing the full curves before sending my tongue flitting inside to tangle and rub against his.
He rewards me with a deep moan and suddenly my arms are full of him as he pushes me against the fence, kissing me furiously while rubbing against me.
He breaks away for breath and I inhale, feeling woozy. “Shit,” I murmur, and he nods frantically before dropping to his knees in front of me. “Oh my God,” I mutter. “What are you doing?”
He pulls off my gloves and hands them to me before unbuttoning my jeans, his brow furrowed in concentration. I look behind me quickly, but Phil has crested the wave of the hill and is now out of sight, so we’re the only two people around for miles.
I look back down at him and hiss as he reaches into my briefs and pulls out my cock. “Fuck, your hands are cold,” I say hoarsely, and he looks up at me, his eyes sparkling with humour and life.
“I know. Your dick is now cold, and I suppose it would be quite kind of me to warm it up for you, wouldn’t it?”
“You are kind,” I say in a low voice and then groan in gratified surprise as he licks a strip up my very erect cock.
“Lo,” I groan, knocking the hat off his head and grabbing a handful of his waves gently and pulling his face up to me.
“Are you sure?” He hasn’t attempted this yet and I instinctively get why not.
I just try not to understand too much because even the subtext of his worries makes me so mad at Thomas that I could weep with rage.
He opens his mouth with a frown on his face, but I forestall him.
“I know you don’t want me to ask these things because you want to be treated like everyone else. ”
“I do.”
“But you’re not everyone else,” I say calmly. “You’re Lo and you mean something to me, so I need to ask this just once and then we’ll never speak of it again.”
He kneels up and grabs my hips in his cold hands. Then, keeping my gaze, he leans forward and in a deliberate motion he takes the head of my cock into his mouth and starts to suck.
“Oh God,” I groan. “Okay, you’re fine. I understand that.”
He hums under his breath and pulls back before taking me deeper this time. I groan at the feeling of his hot mouth and cold hands and then murmur in concern when he tries to take me too deep and chokes.
“Easy,” I croon. “Take your time. There’s no need to deep throat. You’re not Linda Lovelace.”
He obeys me instantly, backing up before taking me at a different angle, using his hand on the base and taking the rest into his mouth and sucking hard while fluttering his tongue along the frenulum.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp. Feelings swirl in me as he starts to suck in earnest. Sensation upon sensation piling onto the already high heap of feelings of gratitude that he picked me along with a fierce pang in my heart to know that while he listens to me in bed, his confidence outside is growing so quickly that he’s showing his true self, which is feisty and lively.
I love that he feels comfortable with me enough to do that.
Then all my thoughts fly away. “Oh fuck,” I choke. “God, darling, that’s amazing. Keep going.” I grunt as he cups my balls in his hand. “Fuck, that’s good. Roll them.” He obliges before sending a finger wet from his spit back to my hole where he rubs it gently and almost tenderly.
I look down at him and have to close my eyes for a second at the image of him with his mouth stuffed full of my cock and the almost transcendent pleasure on his face. “Take your cock out,” I order. “Touch yourself.”
He moans around my dick and sends one hand down to fumble at the opening of his jeans. Then it’s my turn to moan as he withdraws the ruddy length and starts to jerk himself off.
“Oh fuck,” I moan. “So hot. That’s it. Suck me now.” He returns to his task and within seconds I can feel that tingle in my bollocks. “Oh God, I’m close,” I grunt. “Move off if you don’t want a mouthful.”
He gives a tiny shake of his head and carries on sucking me, one hand holding the base of my cock so I don’t choke him while my hips are moving, thrusting at his mouth, chasing my pleasure.
His other hand is a tight fist through which his own cock is shuttling.
The sight of the red, slick head in his fist and the feel of his mouth send me over and I cry out so loudly it disturbs some birds nearby.
I come, pouring myself into his mouth in a seemingly endless flow while crows wheel in the sky around us, cawing crossly.
I’m still coming when he moans, and I look down with bleary eyes to see him shooting in great spurts over the grass at his feet.
For a second we stay still, panting and wheezing, but then he shivers again and I urge him to his feet.
I help him with his clothes, straightening them and pulling his huge hoody around him again before doing my own with cursory attention.
Then I grab his hand full of come and suck and lick it slowly off while he watches me with fascinated eyes.
By the time I’ve finished his cheeks are red and renewed lust is brewing there.
I sling my arm over his shoulders, feeling the slender bones underneath that old jumper and inhaling the smell of him. In these woods with his wavy hair and sharp, angular face he looks almost fey.
“Come on back to the house,” I mutter. “I’m going to feed you and then we’re going to fuck some more. There’s so much more to learn.”
That open, lusty expression crosses his face, turning him into someone earthy and warm. “Surely there isn’t more?”
I grin, feeling like I should be banging my chest, and instead bend in to nuzzle his neck. He moans, and I feel my cock stiffen so fast it should give me friction burns. “So much more,” I promise him.
I guide him down the path to my house, burying my face in his neck and whispering filthy thoughts until he stops dead in his tracks.
“Lo?” I say questioningly, following his gaze which is full of trepidation and fixed on the forecourt of my house where a figure is standing. The figure turns slowly and elegantly, and I know before I even see his face.
“Gideon,” I gasp.