Chapter 21
Noah
“Were you in love with Thomas?” It had to be asked.
“At the time? Yes. Now I’m just bitter. I wasted money and time and most of all? My sanity. I thought I was going mad.”
“I can imagine.” A weak response, but I wanted… I needed to know. I wanted to know everything. How his life had been before me and why…how…he’d ended up here. Where he was now and where I… Fuck. It was all a mess in my head.
“Thomas is in the past. I never want to see him again. That holiday was a massive mistake, but then… I’m glad I went. I met you.”
“You did.”
Why it had come up was beyond me, but then he had been asking me questions too, walking along the hillside with four dogs and a random kid.
“I’m glad I came. I’m glad you found me.” Another weird statement, but then I was still me. Gently figuring out how to navigate all of this. Him. Me. The universe around us.
And a boy called Bailey Butcher, apparently.
Because he wouldn’t leave us alone. I didn’t really mind; he was just a scrawny little kid with dirty-blond hair wearing a filthy tracksuit and worn-down shoes.
Still? He was loving the long grass and the dogs, and I’d found a random ball floating in a puddle and picked it up.
So I threw it, and the dogs went crazy. Because this was apparently a Saturday morning routine.
Walking this seemingly haphazard assortment of dogs and getting fresh air.
The air was fresh all right, and now I wish I’d brought better shoes than the flimsy trainers I was wearing.
“Go! Go! GO!” Bailey shouted as the flurry of fur disappeared down a bank.
“You’re really good with him,” he said, this gorgeous man by my side.
I wasn’t holding his hand because we weren’t there yet.
And yes, perhaps this wasn’t a public place as such; I honestly hadn’t seen another human being since we’d left the school gates, but still.
I was a city boy. Him? I couldn’t imagine him down south.
It was almost like he was that king of the castle in some faraway fantasy world, and any minute, there would be faeries and dragons.
I told him that as well, which made him blush.
“I do have a castle. It’s kind of cool. Well, it’s not mine, but whatever. I live there. Probably will for a long time. When I retire, I’ll have to get myself a little flat down in Lochgilphead, by the water.”
“No flat. A little cottage. I want a garden.”
“You coming?” He looked surprised, but yet, not. Plans. We had them.
“Of course. We’ll be long married by then. Couple of kids. All that.”
His smile was bigger than the sun. Dreams. It was good to have them, but me? I was living them. Right here.
“Throw it again, Badweather!”
Ah. Ball. And too many dogs sat nicely in front of me, tails wagging, a slimy mess of a ball in the grass.
I threw it. And off they went.
“Will you come back?”
“After tomorrow, you mean?” I wanted to make another joke of it, and do the “I’m not leaving” thing, but it was mean and cruel. Mostly to me, because I didn’t want to think about it.
“Yes.” He grabbed my arm and clung to it, watching the dogs hurl through the grass. Fur and yelps everywhere, and here was the slimy ball again.
“Throw it!” Bailey shouted.
“Incoming!” I yelped. He had to let go of me so I could get a good angle and pretend-tumbled as it flew through the air, which of course meant I got jumped on by Winter. The puppy, the only one still on a lead, since his recall was apparently appalling.
“Sit,” I asked the dog, I wanted him to sit too. Just let us rest for a bit here on the bank, so I could retie my laces and actually think.
The scenery was beautiful, honestly. I hadn’t been kidding about the fantasy world because I felt like I was surveying my very own kingdom here.
Dogs everywhere. And here was Bailey falling into the grass too, a dog jumping straight on him.
I couldn’t tell the dogs apart, which one was which, but Bailey apparently could, rattling off names and breeds and where they belonged.
“You’ve got a good memory,” I praised him, as Fox made himself comfortable on the ground next to me.
“You gonna live here too then?” he asked, this kid.
“I live down south. Near Brighton, but I’ll come up and visit again soon.”
“I’ve lived in Brighton. Just a short while, near Hove. Crap house, door was broken, so we got burgled twice, and we had no food.”
I nodded. Accepted his words. I didn’t want to ask but still did.
“You moved a lot then?”
“Mum moved us all the time, whenever she got a new boyfriend. Never got married or nothing, just one new bloke after the other. We’ve, like, lived everywhere.”
“Can’t have been easy.”
He shrugged.
“Bailey, do you like it here?”
Perhaps Fox shouldn’t ask these kinds of questions with me around, because it all felt a little intrusive, but yet? I liked that he did. Almost like we were family.
It was frightening how much I liked it.
“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, some of it is really good. Mrs Cook’s food is nice. School is fine; I think it’s the best school I’ve been at. Teachers are okay.”
“Have you made any friends?”
I liked Fox’s voice when he talked to the boy. A calm, low tone. Soft.
“Have you seen me? I’m like the…charity case. Everyone else here is proper posh.”
“No, they’re not. We have several other boys, just like you. They make this their home, and they thrive. There’s a good future for you here.”
“Not bothered about that. Not what I want.” He looked almost happy there for a second, staring out at the view. Wind blowing in his face. “As long as I don’t get kicked out. That’s the worst.”
“I can imagine,” I stuck in. He surprised me, this kid. Usually these kinds of children were either clammed up or gobby. Bailey Butcher was surprisingly well spoken, and easy to talk to. For a child.
“You said you wanted to choose.” Fox continued, picking Winter up onto his lap. “I think for Monday, can you write down what you can see yourself choosing? Then we’ll schedule time in the afternoon to sit down and go through our options.”
“Like homework?” The kid looked almost disgusted. “It’s my life, not some English essay.”
The kid was twelve. At that age, I’d barely known how to get myself up in the morning, and here this kid was mapping out his future.
“What do you see?” I had no right, but yet…we were all here. Just having a conversation.
“Well. Since you live in Brighton, that’s too bloody far away.”
“Butcher,” Fox warned. “Language.”
“Well, it is. He needs to move.”
He was staring at me, and I nodded. And laughed. “Yes. I agree. Too far.”
“See?” he said, waving his hand to Fox. “I’ve got this figured out. No need for bloody meetings.”
“And where do you suggest Mr Fairweather should move?”
“Well.” Bailey shuffled in the grass, so he was facing us. “You’re not married.”
“Nope.”
“You should be. None of this boyfriend stuff, because it doesn’t last. Trust me, I know this.”
“So we should get married?” Fox was trying really hard not to laugh, but I wasn’t holding back on mine.
“Stop laughing, I’m not sheltered or anything. I know about gay guys, and you can get married. You’re obviously together, so just get married and get on with it.”
“And then once we’re married?” I was enjoying this far too much.
“Then you live together, here at school, and I sleep on the sofa. I need some space for my stuff, if I get some, and then we can start being family.”
“We’re going to be a family?” Okay. This was perhaps getting a bit…quick?
“Told you, I’m choosing this time. I’ve had enough of all the crap. I think Headmaster Riley here would make a good dad, and Ms Blessing thinks you should think about it. I heard her, and I think it’s a done deal.”
“And me?” Had to be said?
“You don’t see how Mr Riley here behaves around you? Man, you must be blind. Do you need glasses?”
Okay, I took it all back. This kid?
“He’s very handsome,” I said, trying to be diplomatic and calm. “Mr Riley, I mean.” I had no idea what to say. How to say things. What was going on here as Fox just laughed.
“How do I look at Mr Fairweather, Bailey?”
“See? You’ve lost this already. Now you’re calling me Bailey. So next, you should get that sofa sorted so I can have a proper place to sleep at yours. You said it yourself. I shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.” He looked almost triumphant. “And you look at Mr Badweather like you want to eat him.”
“Bailey,” I warned. Inappropriate.
“You said it, earlier. You said he looked good enough to eat.”
Oh gosh. What was happening here?
“Oh and when we’re all married and that, we should all be called Fairweather. It’s a cool name.”
“And you’ve decided this?” I said weakly, as Bailey just grinned.
“Yup. And for the record, I’m not gay. But you two are, and that’s cool. I already had a mum, and I don’t need another one.”
“And on that note, we should head back for lunch.” Fox sighed, getting up. “Come on, Butcher. Take Winter’s lead and make him run a bit; he still hasn’t pooped.”
“Don’t think that I’m not serious about this. You’d make a good dad. Just sayin’, and well. My choice. I decide.”
“It’s… It’s your life,” I agreed. Fuck. Not my place. And I shouldn’t be encouraging him.
“Poop time, Winter!” Bailey shouted and ran off.
“That told us,” I said gently to Fox, hoping he wasn’t as weirded out as I felt.
“We’re getting married?” He grinned.
“Not the worst of his ideas,” I admitted, a smile brewing on my face.
“It…doesn’t work like that,” he stuttered out, clearly unsettled again.
“I know that,” I reassured him, and now I did it. I grabbed his hand. Held it. “But it’s nice to dream, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he agreed. Then we walked back. I almost thought home in my head, but he was right. Things didn’t work that way.
The way things worked? Was like this.
Where we walked through the door and I tried to wash my hands in the kitchenette sink and he just came up behind me and yanked my trousers down. Right to my ankles.
“I’ve locked the door,” he said softly into my back. “So I think you should bend right over and take it like a good boy.”
Okay. I wanted to laugh, but at the same time?
“Not…a good boy,” I stuttered out.
“Oh, are you not?”
“Nope. I don’t need much prep, just get in there.”
“Fuck,” he huffed out behind me.
“Lube?” I asked.
“I have some… Wait.”
“Go.”
“Don’t move.”
Was I moving? Nope. I was trying to untangle myself from my trousers and get into a better position. Was this actually happening?
It was. Because here he was, lining up behind me, the sound of his zipper and flick of the cap. Kicking my foot to the side.
“Hold yourself open,” he growled out. “Fuck. So sexy.”
“Do it,” I demanded.
“Hottest arse ever.”
That was when I was supposed to say something back, but instead I rumbled out some weird sound as he pressed his dick against my hole. No stretch. No nothing. And… Fuck.
“You want this?” He was teasing. Gently pressing against my muscle.
“Do it. I like it, and I can take it.”
“Just going for it?”
“Yessss.”
I wasn’t joking when I said I liked it like this.
Someone had done it once before, and yeah.
I’d felt it for days, but… Oh God. Lube.
Lots of it getting drizzled down my crack, his fingers smoothing it all out.
And pressing inside of me. Sharp. The moan I let out was one I didn’t even bother holding back.
“Get inside me.”
“Oh, I will.”
“Do it.”
He did. And so, yes. Sometimes a bit of prep was great. At other times? I wanted this. Craved it. A hard push with a little pain and a shitload of pressure. The stretch making my eyes water, but fuck, I wanted it. Needed it.
“Go hard,” I huffed out.
“I will,” he grunted back.
He pushed. I pushed back. My mouth forming words I couldn’t get out. His groin against my arse. His breaths were mere little puffs of air against my now bare back, where his hands were roaming my skin, pushing my shirt up around my neck.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he whispered. “So bloody hot.”
“Fuck me,” I begged. “Please, Fox. Fuck me.”
Then he did. Hard and fast, where I clung to the kitchen sink, my forehead pressed against cool metal, and his breaths mingled with my roars.
Then he came inside of me, with a low growl that prickled my skin. My hand slapping against my thigh as I got myself off. My seed all over the floor. The cupboard door. My hand.
His mouth against my back.
“Stay,” he begged.
I wanted to say yes. But I couldn’t. So I said nothing. And that was the worst part of this.
Knowing I couldn’t do just that.