Chapter Twenty-Eight
The flat had emptied out by Sunday lunchtime.
Vidal was on the sofa in his stockinged feet, with Mercè across his thighs and his sling loosened at the collar.
Mama and Pare had been driven to Heathrow on Saturday evening by the Geneva detail: two men in Swiss-cut suits and an unmarked Audi that had been waiting on the kerb since dawn.
Fidel and Maria had left for McLean that morning at six, with Adelina asleep in her carrier and a US Embassy car at the door.
Jordi and Aina had been the last to go, at noon.
Wallis had been a wonder throughout it all. He had loaded cases into cars, confirmed flight numbers, and handled the minor crises of lost passports and last-minute baby spit-ups.
“Will there be anything else for today, sir?”
“No, Captain. Thank you.”
“I’ll be off, then. Sergeant Knowles is on the door downstairs until ten. Ring me if you need anything before then.”
“I shall.”
Wallis closed the door behind him with a click.
Vidal sat on the sofa and looked at the cushion at the far end of it, which still held the dent Pare had made over four days of newspaper-reading. He looked at the rug where Fidel had played El cant dels ocells with Connor on the second night.
He gave it twenty minutes for the sake of dignity. Then he eased Mercè off his thighs onto the warm patch he had left behind, picked up his keys, and went down two flights in his stockinged feet.
? ? ?
Connor opened the door in a white T-shirt, jeans and a streak of flour across the inside of his wrist. He took one look at Vidal in the doorway and stepped back to let him through.
“Come on in, sweetheart. I’ve got the radio on.”
The flat smelled of butter and rosemary. The radio was tuned to a station playing light classical music. Connor put a glass of water in his hand before he had finished sitting at the counter. “Drink that. You look peaky.”
“I am not peaky, Connor, I am bereft, which is a different and far more elegant condition.”
“Humour me and drink the water anyway.”
Vidal drank the water. Connor went back to whatever he had been doing at the hob, which involved a saucepan and heaps of garlic going into butter. He worked without commentary, tipping in a handful of green herbs, stirring, then tasting his creation off the back of the spoon.
“What are you making?”
“Pasta. Don’t get excited. It’s not going to be up to your standards. I’ve got a jar of something the woman at the deli swore by, and I’m going to put it on top of penne.”
“Connor.”
“Mm.”
“I am not going to insult your pasta. I am going to eat it gratefully and I am not going to say a single critical thing about the sauce.”
“You’re scaring me now.”
“I am being serious, Connor.”
“That’s what’s scaring me, love.”
Connor brought the bowls through to the table in the corner of the kitchen, where the afternoon light came in through the window above the sink and laid a long warm stripe across the wood.
Vidal sat with his sling propped on a folded napkin and ate left-handed while Connor topped up his water and pretended not to watch him.
The pasta was perfectly fine. Vidal told him so. Connor took the compliment with the suspicion of a man who had been bracing for a lecture about parmesan rinds, and after a moment he reached across the table and laid his hand on top of Vidal’s.
“You alright, sweetheart?”
“I am better now that I am here.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Vidal looked down at Connor’s knuckles. There was a small white scar across the base of his thumb that Vidal had asked about once and been told was a pawn-shop story for another night.
“I do not wish to talk about it, Connor.”
“Alright.”
“I should like to come to bed with you instead, if that suits.”
Connor’s thumb pressed against the fluttering pulse at the inside of Vidal’s wrist. “That suits.”
Connor’s bedroom was at the back of the flat. The blinds were half-drawn against the afternoon. He stood Vidal at the foot of the bed, holding him by his hips, and undid the buttons of his linen shirt one by one, working around the sling without comment or hurry.
“Lift your arms.”
Vidal lifted his good arm. Connor eased the shirt off his shoulder, fed it carefully down his sling-bound side, and dropped it on the chair.
The crucifix at Vidal’s throat caught the light and he watched Connor’s eyes follow it down to the hollow above his sternum, before they came back up to his face.
“Trousers off.”
Vidal let out a long-suffering sigh. “Connor, you are going to have to be more romantic than this.”
“Get them off, sweetheart, and I’ll be as romantic as you like.”
Vidal undid his belt one-handed, with a theatrical sigh, and Connor took over at the buttons with the same economy he had used on the shirt.
The trousers came down, and the boxers soon followed.
By the time Vidal was naked except for the sling and the crucifix, Connor had not so much as kissed him, and Vidal’s cock was already half-hard against his thigh from the sheer concentrated attention of the older man.
Connor pushed him backwards gently until the back of Vidal’s calves met the edge of the mattress. “Sit. I’ll get the pillows.”
He stacked three pillows against the headboard, propped Vidal back against them so the sling sat comfortably across his chest, and then stepped away from the bed to take off his own clothes.
He worked the button on his jeans, sliding the denim down his thighs.
Keeping his shorts on, he climbed onto the bed in them, bracketed Vidal’s ankles between his knees, and bent his head to the inside of Vidal’s right ankle.
“Connor.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Why are you still in your underwear? Oh…”
Connor’s mouth had moved up to the inside of his calf, pressing kisses against the soft skin there.
He worked up the inside of Vidal’s right leg with his mouth, alternating wet kisses with the scraping of his teeth, lingering at the tendon behind the knee until Vidal’s leg jumped of its own accord, and then carrying on up his inner thigh.
He stopped just short of where Vidal’s cock was now fully hard against his belly, dragged his lips in a wet line across to the inside of the other thigh.
By the time Connor’s kisses had reached the crease where Vidal’s left thigh met his hip, Vidal had begun to make involuntary sounds at the back of his throat that were somewhere between irritation and pleading.
“Connor.”
“Sweetheart.”
“You are being cruel to me.”
“I’m taking my time.”
“You are taking your time strategically, and I would like to register a formal objection.”
Connor lifted his head from Vidal’s hip and looked up at him along the length of his body. His hair had fallen forward across his forehead and the wicked half-smile he was wearing had nothing to do with apology. “Noted, Your Serene Highness.”
“Don’t call me — ”
“Your Serene Highness.” Connor pressed a kiss against the soft place under Vidal’s navel. “Mr Montcada. Vidal. Whatever you like. I’m not getting off this bed until I’ve had my fill of you, so you can lodge as many complaints as you fancy.”
He dipped his head and mouthed at Vidal’s balls. Vidal’s hips bucked off the bed, and Connor’s free hand came down hard across his lower belly and pinned him in place.
“Stay where I put you.”
“Connor — ”
“Stay.”
Vidal obeyed. His sling was rising and falling against his chest in time with his breathing, which had gone shallow and was not going to slow down again any time soon, what with the way Connor was dragging things out.
Connor went lower. He kissed his way down across Vidal’s hip to the soft place where his thigh met his arse, and then his grip was at the back of Vidal’s right knee, lifting and folding Vidal’s leg up against his ribs, opening him out across the duvet.
“Connor, what are you — oh, my God.”
Connor’s mouth had closed wet and hot around the head of Vidal’s cock, and then he dragged the flat of his tongue up the underside from root to tip in a wet stripe that made Vidal’s hips try to come up off the mattress against Connor’s hold.
“Connor. Connor, I need — ”
“I’ll get you there, sweetheart. I’m taking the scenic route.”
Connor worked his lips across Vidal’s belly in a serpentine path, pausing at his hipbones to suck at his skin and worry it gently with his teeth, then up across the soft hollow under his navel and the line of dark hair that ran down from it.
He paid particular attention to the place just below his sternum where Vidal had once, in passing, mentioned being ticklish.
And Vidal’s whole body jerked against his sling, which Connor caught and gentled back into place against Vidal’s chest.
Connor’s teeth closed gently against the pulse point under Vidal’s jaw.
He sucked a mark into the skin there, taking his time, working the spot until Vidal could feel the blood rising under the surface and knew it was going to show in the morning.
He didn’t stop until he was satisfied with the colour of it, and then he kissed the bruise once, softly, and moved up to Vidal’s mouth for the first time since they had come into the room.
Vidal could taste the faint salt of his own skin in the kiss.
Connor’s hand had moved from Vidal’s belly to the side of his throat, his thumb resting against the corner of Vidal’s jaw as he worked the lube bottle open.
Then Connor’s slick fingers were sliding down between his legs without breaking the kiss.
His first finger went in slowly. Connor was kissing him through it, working him open with the same unhurried thoroughness he had used on the inside of Vidal’s thighs.
“Alright, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Yes. Don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping. I’m just checking.”
“Checking what? You have been in there enough times now to know your way about.”
Connor huffed a laugh. He crooked his fingers forward, found Vidal’s prostate inside him, and pressed hard against it. Vidal’s whole body lifted off the pillows.
“You’re going to do yourself an injury, love.”
Vidal lay still. Connor worked him open in steady strokes, his fingers crooked just so on every other thrust to make Vidal’s breath go ragged.
He added a third finger when Vidal’s body began to yield around him, and at some point in the next minute Vidal stopped being able to track time as a continuous quantity.
There were Connor’s fingers inside him, and the steady building of heat at the base of his spine, forming the entirety of his world.
Then Connor took his fingers out of him, and Vidal let out a keening whine.
Connor moved down the bed. He hooked Vidal’s leg up over his shoulder, eased his other knee out wide, and brought his mouth down between Vidal’s legs in one deliberate movement.
Vidal’s hand came down hard on the back of Connor’s head and stayed there.
Connor’s mouth closed around the head of his cock, hot and wet, and Connor’s tongue worked against the slit.
His free hand had come back up between Vidal’s legs with two fresh slick fingers, sliding deep inside him in time with the movements of his tongue.
“Oh. Oh, Connor — ”
Connor took him deeper. Every time Vidal felt the heat at the base of his spine begin to climb in earnest, Connor backed off. He drew away, slowed the press of his fingers, and laid wet open kisses against Vidal’s cock until his breathing had eased out of the danger zone, and then started again.
By the third time he’d done this, Vidal was shaking on the pillows, and his begging had begun in earnest.
“Connor, please. Connor, I cannot — per l’amor de Déu, Connor, please…I need you to let me come. I need you to let me come, Connor, please.”
Connor lifted his head off Vidal’s cock and looked up the length of his body.
His pupils were blown so wide that the blue of his irises had gone almost entirely.
He held Vidal’s eyes for one long, breathless beat, then he bent his head, took Vidal’s cock back into his mouth all the way to the root, and pressed his fingers deep inside him at the same time.
He came down Connor’s throat in long pulsing waves that he could feel in the soles of his feet.
Connor swallowed and kept swallowing, working him through it with careful strokes of his tongue, his fingers still buried inside him and pressed firmly against the spot that made every aftershock run twice as long as it should have.
Vidal heard himself crying somewhere outside his own body.
Connor eased off only when Vidal’s body went limp against him. He gathered Vidal against his chest with his arm under Vidal’s shoulder and held him there.
“There you go, sweetheart. There you go.”
Vidal turned his face into the warm hollow at the side of Connor’s neck and let himself cry.
Connor didn’t comment on it. He stroked the back of Vidal’s neck in steady passes, his thumb working a small circle behind Vidal’s ear, and after a while the crying slowed into the occasional shuddering breath.
Vidal lay against his chest with the sling between them as he listened to Connor’s beating heart under his ear.
After a long while he registered that Connor was still hard against his hip.
Vidal’s hand moved down Connor’s stomach, but Connor caught his wrist before he reached the waistband of his shorts.
“Not tonight, love.”
“Connor, I am perfectly capable of — ”
“I know you are. I’m telling you I don’t want it. This one was just for you.”
“That is not fair, Connor.”
“It’s very fair. I’ve been wanting to do that to you for days. Let me have my afternoon. You fed me my pudding, sweetheart. A man’s allowed to enjoy his pudding.”
Vidal looked up at him from the hollow of his shoulder. Connor’s face was flushed at the cheekbones, his hair was a disaster, and his chest was puffed out in a way that suggested he was very pleased with himself indeed. “You are an impossible man, Connor Evans.”
Connor dragged the duvet up over both of them. The window above the bed had darkened by a degree; the afternoon was beginning to think about evening.
“Connor.”
“Mm.”
“I should like to stay.”
“You are staying. You’re not going anywhere on those legs.”
“I mean tonight. I should like to stay tonight. If that suits.”
“Then stay.” Connor pressed a kiss against the crown of his head. “I’ll send Wallis a message in a bit so the poor sod doesn’t have a heart attack when he checks the cameras.”
“Mercè.”
“What about her?”
“She is upstairs on the sofa. I left her on the sofa.”
“I’ll go up and fetch her in a minute. Of course she’ll stay down here with us.”
Vidal closed his eyes. Connor’s chest was warm under his cheek. He worked, with a great deal of effort, on not thinking about Beauchamp, and staying focused on Connor sleeping beside him.