Chapter 14 #2
He could feel the urge to come looming over him like a threatening thunderstorm.
His arms and legs tingled, synapses snapped and he reached breaking point.
God…now! Now! River pulled back and erupted all over Newt’s face, neck and chest. Shit.
I should have asked. But Newt had his mouth open, catching drops of come on his tongue and smiling. You are so hot!
Except River needed more. What the hell? How could he want to come again? But he did. That familiar sensation was building in his gut. He pushed Newt onto his back and straddled him. River’s cock was still half-hard, Newt’s was fully hard.
“Want…to come again,” River blurted.
Newt wiped his fingers through the come on his chest and reached round to River’s pucker. As Newt pressed in, River pushed down. Except his muscles were not giving way easily.
“Want…want…help…”
River couldn’t breathe. Newt kept up the pressure, so did River, then with one sharp spike of pain, Newt’s finger slipped inside him.
“Fu…ck,” River gasped.
It was so good. He couldn’t believe how good it was.
The way his body clenched around Newt’s finger, then two fingers.
His cock had filled again. How the hell that had happened he had no idea, but his balls drew tight against his body and as waves of lightning crashed through him, he bit his lip.
He was pushing himself down, wanting more.
Newt curled his fingers, caressed his prostate and it tipped River over the edge into bliss.
This second release might have only produced a minute amount of come, but it seemed more intense than the first. It was as if his entire body had been caught up in the explosive power of the orgasm.
He stole a moment to breathe, then as he moved, Newt’s fingers slipped free and River slid back so he could take Newt in his mouth.
One suck and it was all over. Newt’s chest heaved as he half-groaned, half-laughed, emptying himself between River’s lips.
River swallowed until Newt had nothing left to give, then moved up so they lay next to each other on the floor.
“We could have done that in bed,” Newt panted.
“An…other minute…and we will.”
~~~
The view from the top of the hill by the Observatory in Greenwich Park was amazing.
He and River stood looking down at the elegant old buildings between them and the Thames.
On the other side of the river were the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf.
On the right was the O2 Arena, on the left more tall buildings.
River was trying to tell him their names and they were both laughing.
Was one really called the Cheese Grater?
Newt was pleased that River was able to laugh so much now, even at himself when he got words wrong.
Newt was growing more and more attached to him.
It was both dangerous and wonderful to feel he had a friend.
Boys at primary school never seemed to stay Newt’s friends for long.
They were into football and he wasn’t. They did mean things and he never did.
He remembered how his parents had roared with laughter when he’d been given a certificate to say he’d been chosen as a school ambassador because of his excellent behaviour and the example he set to others.
“I’ve never been more ashamed,” his father had said to all his mates and got the laughs he’d wanted.
When Newt went to senior school, he kept his head down and worked hard because even at eleven, he knew education was the way out of the life he had.
His trust in people had been destroyed long before he was seventeen, but what Phelan had done, the brother he’d trusted, was the death knell to him putting faith in anyone.
Until now.
Even after he’d told himself never to trust again, Newt trusted River.
John Harrison’s timepieces were incredible.
River didn’t want to use the audio guide so Newt quietly read out the information to him, how Harrison’s clocks were revolutionary in their ability to accurately tell time at sea, so that sailors could work out their longitude, which meant they were far less likely to get lost. It had taken John Harrison most of his life to arrive at the design for H4, one of the most important timepieces ever made.
Newt wished he could do something so momentous. Unlikely.
River had practised reading when no one else had been near them. Newt could have stayed in the museum for hours but he knew River was struggling with an overload of information and maybe a worry that he’d be recognised in spite of his mask.
Back in the town, they wandered around Greenwich market, bought falafel wraps, then sat by the river to eat them so no one could see River’s face.
They looked at but didn’t go into the Cutty Sark, a restored clipper, but they walked under the Thames and back using the foot tunnel, before returning to Greenwich station.
River was tired and once they were on the train from London Bridge, he fell asleep against the window.
While he was sleeping, Newt looked up Dila.
Two major newspapers had pictures of her and River in front of the house, which wasn’t identifiable.
It made him even more suspicious that Max had told the press to take the photos.
That and the text below the pictures saying River was fully recovered after his accident.
There were lots of images of her and River on Instagram.
Lots of comments too. He checked out a few.
Most were just saying how cute they looked.
They did look cute. There were more pictures on X, more comments.
A few asked how River was. Dila, or probably Jesse, didn’t reply to anything.
River looked good. Happy, healthy… But he’s mine.
For a while anyway. No matter how much Newt wished it could be more, he’d known the end date when he’d started. He doubted he and River would stay friends. The intention might be there but it would be too difficult.
As Newt drove towards the gates to the house, he spotted a car parked to the side and his heart thumped. Why would anyone park there? As they went through the gate, a guy got out of the vehicle.
“Newt!” River sounded panicked.
Newt had worried for a moment too but he recognised the visitor. “It’s okay. It’s my brother Sean.”
How the hell had he uncovered this address?
“Go into the house and I’ll talk to him.”
“In…vite him…in.”
“No.”
Newt pulled into the garage, switched off the engine, deactivated the house alarm, then headed back towards the gates. He wished he’d had the courage to close them, but even now, he knew better than to piss off Sean.
His brother didn’t come onto the property.
What did he want? Why can’t my fucking family leave me alone? Newt waited to see what Sean was going to say.
“Phelan’s dying.”
“What?” Newt swallowed hard.
“If you hadn’t pulled that stunt in Leeds, you’d have found out then.”
River came to his side, mask in place. Newt wished he’d stayed back.
“He has cancer.” Sean held out a card. “He’s in this place until it’s over. He wants to see you.”
When Newt didn’t take the card, River did.
“He’s not got long. If it’s the last thing you do for anyone in the family, go and see him.”
“No.”
Sean bristled. “You’re all he fucking talks about. He wants to see you before he dies. He wants to say he’s sorry.”
“What good is an apology now?”
“I’ll drag you there if I have to,” Sean snarled.
“Do you think I owe him or you anything?” Newt asked quietly.
“He was a good brother to you. Better than me.”
“Until he wasn’t.”
Sean glared, then glanced at River. “Does he know?”
Newt shook his head.
“He’s fucking dying, Newt. Have some compassion.”
Newt clenched his teeth. Where was his family’s compassion when they set him up?
“How did you find out where I was living?”
“I persuaded someone to tell me. Don’t waste the effort it took to find this address. Go and see Phelan. Please.” He looked as if saying that last word had horrified him, then turned and headed for his car.
River pressed the remote to shut the gate, then tried to give the card to Newt.
Newt wouldn’t take it. When he heard Sean’s car start up, Newt walked towards the garage.
Damn Sean. Damn Phelan. Damn all of them.
And damn his probation officer, because it had to have been him who’d told Sean his address.
He could guess what persuasion Sean used.
Back in the house, River made him a coffee and sat down next to him on the couch.
Newt hadn’t wanted to tell him yet. He’d wanted things to stay the same a little longer.
It wasn’t that he didn’t think River would believe him, though he didn’t know that he would, but he didn’t want River to look at him differently.
When River put the card on his knee, Newt exhaled. Mountford Hospice in Harlow.
“I come too,” River said.
Newt wanted to say that wouldn’t happen because he wasn’t going to go but he already knew he would. And he’d have to take River with him rather than leave him alone all day.
“How did he…find you? Dila’s f…fault? My fault?”
Newt could have said yes, could have delayed this ever-approaching moment a little longer but he felt like an old balloon with a slow puncture, air slowly seeping out of him. Just say it.
“I suspect he blackmailed or threatened my probation officer.” Newt looked at River as he spoke, waiting for his reaction.
River blinked once, then pressed his lips together.
“I’m out on licence, which means I’ve served part of my sentence and if I don’t break the conditions of my release, I’ll stay out of prison.”
River gave a quiet gasp. “Pri…prison?”
He took hold of Newt’s hand and held tight. Newt had to swallow back a sob.
“You can’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you.”
“What you did?”
“What I didn’t do. The day before I was due to take a history A level exam, my family set me up to take the blame for an armed robbery that my brother Phelan had carried out.”
River sucked in a breath.
Newt stared down at the card on his knee. “My family had a reputation. My father and Sean had solid alibis, and they made sure Phelan had one too. My mother drugged me and while I was out of it, they planted Phelan’s clothes, some of the proceeds of the robbery and a gun in my room.”
“Oh God.”
“Phelan had a previous conviction, which meant he’d get a fifteen-year sentence.
Because I was still seventeen, with no record, I might only have got three years.
Though I couldn’t tell them where to find the rest of the cash, watches and jewellery that had been stolen because I had no bloody idea, so it looked like I wasn’t cooperating.
Phelan would have gone straight into an adult jail, whereas I might have only spent a few years in a young offender institution, which is a lot cushier than prison.
I was…emotionally blackmailed into saying I’d done it.
I did think about telling the truth but… ”
Newt rubbed the back of his neck. “The guy Phelan robbed had a heart attack a couple of weeks later and he died. It was attributed to stress brought on by the robbery. The gun was fired. No one was injured but the guy would have been scared shitless. So would I. He had a wife and two daughters. He wasn’t there to give one of his daughters away when she married a few months later.
He was a good man. I was just the punk kid of a criminal family who didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, the people I hurt.
Three years was suddenly a fantasy. It could have been fourteen.
“I was too shocked about the situation I found myself in to show much reaction. I had some sort of mental breakdown. I didn’t speak, didn’t react to anything.
I know the word for it now. Dissociation.
The only way to cope with the trauma was to cut off thoughts, feelings, memories and reality.
Like extreme daydreaming. My visible lack of reaction condemned me.
The judge saw a young man showing no remorse, no regret…
” He let out a shaky sob. “He didn’t see someone who was literally scared out of his fucking mind. ”
“How long?”
“Did I spend locked up? Seven years. I was released a few weeks before I met Max. Did he tell you how that happened?”
“No.”
“A guy on the back of a motorbike grabbed Max’s phone. I got it back. Max bought me a coffee. When he found out I had a psychology degree he offered me this job. As long as I signed an NDA.”
Newt still couldn’t look at him. “I’d been living in a hostel in Tunbridge Wells, trying and failing to find employment. When an ex-con applies for a job, they don’t have to tell people they have a criminal record but if asked, they must reveal it. Everyone asked the question. Max didn’t.”
River huffed and Newt looked at him then. River squeezed his hand a little harder.
“Max…des…perate not to look after me.”
“Anyone would do?”
“No. Max likes you.”
“I think he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.
Someone who could start right away and knew about speech therapy?
I couldn’t believe how lucky I was either.
A live-in job paying good money? Of course I signed the NDA.
I know how to keep my mouth shut. I’d spent seven years doing exactly that.
And I do know what I’m talking about as far as speech therapy’s concerned, but I’m not an actual speech therapist and probably never will be. ”
“Don’t care.”
“About the speech therapy bit?”
River took hold of Newt’s chin and turned his head so he was looking at him.
“Any of it. You are…a good person.”
Oh don’t fucking cry. Newt could feel his eyes brimming.
“We go to see your…brother to…morrow. He…better…say…sorry.”