Chapter 13 #2
He clenched, then stroked us together from balls to tip. The moan I let out echoed in the bedroom, until a part of me that was still conscious of things outside the delicious sensations coursing up my spine realised the echo was James.
I closed my eyes for a second. “Does it look good, James? Do we look hot together?”
“Yeah…” His breathing was choppy, and I could smell his arousal like smoke and perfume in the room. “So fucking hot…”
“You’re gonna come for me,” Trace promised, his soft growl snapping my attention back to him as he stroked us again. Too slow, too fucking slow.
“I am,” I confirmed through gritted teeth, “if you ever get going enough to—Oh God!”
Slick, fast, accurate. His hand around us was a metronome, every stroke just perfectly enough to make me quake. I heard James’ fingers dig into the sheet as Trace took me spiralling, higher and higher and…
“Coming!” I practically shouted as my spine bowed and my orgasm barrelled through me, my cock jerking and pulsing like a wild thing in Trace’s grip.
He followed me a moment later, his spunk erupting to fountain over his digits with mine.
I couldn’t take my gaze off the fucking beauty of the expression on his face as he unravelled.
His eyes flashed with a colour I couldn’t name, but it was so fleeting I wondered later if it had been part of my climax and not real.
His hand relaxed and he glanced down, surveying the mess we’d made. “Better?”
I huffed a laugh. “I’d say so.” My brain was wiped clean of thought.
Trace dropped to my side and palmed my hip bone. “I’ll clean you up in a minute. When James has come too.” His eyes went dark and needy once more.
James was almost silent, stretched out on his back, eyes firmly shut. His boxer shorts barely contained his twitching hard-on, and he had a fierce, concentrated expression on his face. His hands were furiously abusing his nipples, two angry red peaks against his pale skin.
“James?” I didn’t want to interrupt him, but he looked extra vulnerable to me, his sight cut off and his inferior hearing fuelling my protective instincts.
“So hot…” He repeated his earlier phrase, but I wasn’t sure if it was in response to me or not, so I curled my fingers over Trace’s hand and drank in the sight of James pleasuring himself.
Less than a minute later, he groaned, a sound that reverberated around the room as his body tensed and vibrated. Thick white cum began seeping through the dark fabric of his shorts as his thighs quivered. I might have whimpered again at the sight. I would wank to the memory of this for eternity.
“Goddess,” Trace breathed. “That’s hot.” I couldn’t speak. I was mesmerised.
Eventually, James gave a breathy sigh and cracked one eye open. “Oh Christ,” he murmured, promptly shutting it again and covering his face with his hands. “I’m…uh…”
“I’ll get us cleaned up.” Trace slid off the bed.
“Flannels are in the bathroom cupboard,” I called after him. I shunted over to put a tentative hand on James’ thigh. “You okay?”
A long silence. Then, “I will be, when I deal with being a whole slut in front of two people, one of whom I don’t even know.” A ragged sigh. “Didn’t know I liked that sort of thing.”
“Nipple play?”
“Yeah. And, uh, maybe being watched.” Another pause. “You look so gorgeous when you come, Edwin. Like the hottest porn ever.”
I held in my snort, because I was fairly sure I looked like every other bloke in the throes of an orgasm — goofy and weird.
“Pretty fucking hot yourself, Wilson.” I leaned over to peck his cheek.
“Although I’m beginning to think you’ve got a kink for coming in your clothes as well as a touch of the exhibitionist about you. ”
His cheeks bloomed scarlet and for a moment I thought I’d gone too far, but then he sighed and gave me a lopsided grin. “I think…I can’t think about that right now. But suppose I did, is that too weird?”
I shrugged. “Neither are the kinkiest shit I’ve seen in person, known about, or watched on a screen, not by a long chalk. I’d say they’re pretty tame. Besides,” I nudged him gently, “we have a washing machine.”
Trace tapped on the door, then came in to wipe me down. He towelled me off too, even though I said I could do it myself. Then he leant over and kissed me softly and quickly. “I really need to get some sleep. I’ll leave you two alone for a while. Might I borrow a blanket?”
James nudged me and gestured to the wall adjoining our two rooms. “Use the spare room,” I offered. “The bedding’s clean.”
Trace bestowed a grateful smile on us and disappeared. The door to the spare room clicked shut a moment later and we were alone.
“Shower?”
James shook his head. “Nah, I think it can be noisy and it could disturb Trace. I’ll have a wash. Then, maybe we should go outside for a while, or into the living room. I want to keep a lookout for Terrance.”
While he freshened up, I made him a mug of tea, which made him smile.
I brought the chairs through from the back and we sat in the front garden, watching the world go by.
The traffic on the A12 was a steady hum in the background, either on its way north to Stratford and beyond, or south to dive below the Thames courtesy of the Blackwall Tunnel.
I wondered if James would be interested that I was a mere toddler when the first tunnel opened. Probably not; he wasn’t a Londoner.
I didn’t feel the need to fill any silences when they occurred. James was content to sit and let the time pass, occasionally looking at something on his phone, although he did shoot me a look of surprise when I pulled a cigarette packet from my pocket and lit up.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” He didn’t sound disgusted, more intrigued.
“Want one?” He grimaced with a slight shake of his head.
“Good for you. Filthy habit.” When he full-on smirked at me, I held my hands up in surrender.
“It’s not like it can harm me, is it? I used to smoke before I was turned.
Dalziel thought it might calm me afterwards.
” I huffed. “It didn’t, but then nothing really did for a year or two.
” I tapped with one finger, watching as ash fluttered down to hide amongst the gravel.
“Does it bother you? I can stop. Not like I’m addicted. ”
He tilted his head, giving my question some thought. “I don’t think so,” he said finally. “As long as you brush your teeth before you stick your tongue in my mouth.”
I barked out a laugh. “That’s reasonable.
” Shuffling my chair nearer so I could wrap my free hand around the back of his neck — I loved the way James’ breathing hitched every time I did it — I waved the other one vaguely towards the sky.
“So, did Terrance sod off to find a bit of birdy tail, or is he away being magical and spooky like only a familiar can be? What do we reckon?”
We swapped opinions, drank tea, and smoked for several hours, both of us acutely aware of the witch slumbering a few yards away and of what the three of us had shared, but neither of us saying a word about it.
I didn’t think James was unhappy with what we’d done, but if he needed time to come to terms with it, I could bite my tongue for a day or two.
When the sky began to lighten and I felt the pull of dawn on my senses, we tidied up and headed indoors. As I made to unlatch the front door from its open position against the carriage side and to lock it, a shadow swooped down and landed on the fence in front of me.
“You’re fucking late,” I admonished the crow, unwilling to admit I’d been a teensy bit concerned for his well-being. “Your master intended to sleep in his own bed last night.”
Terrance fixed me with what I assumed was his default beady stare. “We will go soon.”
“Not what I meant.” I stared back. “Are you coming in or...?”
“He is asleep, in there?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t make him sleep in his car.”
Another unblinking glance. “Good. I will await him inside.”
I locked up after telling the crow to make himself at home in the living room.
The feeling we’d all been somehow played lingered long after Trace had finally woken, been fed breakfast by James, apologised on behalf of his familiar, then left in a sputter of exhaust that made me fear for his vehicle’s health.
I urged James to shower, raced through my own ablutions, and was still pondering the scheming abilities of crows when James slid into bed beside me.
“You changed the sheets,” I murmured as he pulled the covers up.
“Mmm.” I heard his throat work in the darkened bedroom. So much for not mentioning Trace, you fool. “Wanted you to myself today.” A sharp swallow. “Is that okay?”
I scrabbled for his arm and tucked it over my hip, wriggling until we were perfectly spooned, him slotted behind me in the position we’d adopted as our usual. “Absolutely, love. Whatever you need.”
The power of the sun drowned out any reply he might have made. We slept.