Chapter Eleven
Haris sat in his study, staring at his laptop. After Tyler had left his bed last night, he’d lain frozen in disappointment. He hadn’t pushed about the dream, but it wasn’t hard to conclude that’s what had upset him. Before he could pull himself together enough to go upstairs and attempt to put things right, he’d heard Tyler sneak down and then the quiet click of the door. His heart had pounded as he ran up to Tyler’s room. He expected to see everything he’d bought him gone, but it hadn’t been. Though that didn’t mean Tyler intended to return.
Plans to start the day in bed, reading the Sunday papers, drinking coffee, eating croissant and having sex—and not in that order—faded as he’d waited sleeplessly for morning. He’d been through an endless series of emotions and unfortunately Tyler had reappeared while he was stuck in fury mode. He’d spent a long time there, seething and raging, and it looked like he’d be in a bad temper for a while yet. All he’d done was ask a bloody question. What was he supposed to think when the guy stayed out all night?
Tyler had shut himself in the room with the piano, mumbling about working on some college assignment, and Haris had retreated to his office to sulk.
How could everything fall apart so fast? Yesterday, he’d enjoyed himself more than he had in years, and now he was more miserable than he’d been in…a long while. It came down to trust. It was almost an impossible thing for him to do. He didn’t trust. Period. It was part of the reason for the contract, an attempt to control things and make Tyler think twice, but looked like it hadn’t worked. He wanted to believe Tyler, but was that want strong enough to blind him to the obvious?
He picked up his phone and called Stan Deeds.
“Haris, how are you?”
“Fine, thanks.” No, I’m fucking not.
“What can I do for you?”
“Something personal. Wilson suspects we’ve been followed on a few occasions by a white Fiat.”
“Ah. License plate? Description of driver? How long has it been going on?”
“No idea on the first two. A couple of weeks.”
Stan sighed. “Know how many white Fiats there are? You want me to watch you to see if anyone’s following?”
“Yes. I’ll call and tell you when we’re going out.”
“Is there a reason someone would follow you?”
Haris paused.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Stan said. “Want to elaborate?”
Haris kept silent.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“One more thing.” Haris’s heart pounded. Once he’d set this in motion, there was no going back. “I need a full background check on a Tyler Bellamy. Third year student at Trinity Music College in Greenwich. He was in local authority care from the age of seven.” Or so he’d said. “It’s important he doesn’t find out anyone’s been asking.”
Stan tsked. “You know me better than that. I’ll be in touch.”
Haris told himself he had no choice. It was in his nature to obtain every detail he could about a…project. He was adept at seeking out weakness, uncovering secrets, exposing the truth. If Tyler was lying to him, he didn’t stand a chance.
He could hear him playing but didn’t recognize the piece. He wanted to sit and watch him, but the mood they were both in, that might not be a good idea. So he buried himself in his work as he usually did on Sundays and tried to forget how he’d hoped everything would be different with Tyler there.
By late afternoon, hunger drove Tyler away from the piano but it was a close run thing. The instrument was a pleasure to play and the thought of owning it if he managed the whole four months was a considerable incentive to stick it out. Though how he’d afford a place big enough for grand piano was another matter. He hadn’t expected Haris to be so…difficult, though Tyler had spent most of his life dealing with difficult people, so how bad could Haris be? His stomach rumbled as he made his way to the kitchen. He halted with his hand on the doorknob when he heard the voice coming from inside.
“Don’t you dare, you bad boy,” Wilson said. “If you don’t behave, then I won’t let you have it. And you really want it, don’t you? Well, come here then. Come and get it. Take it gently.”
Tyler frowned. What was he doing?
“Oh you’re so soft. You like that, don’t you? Is that the place? Yes. Going to give me a lick?”
He’d listened to enough. Tyler turned and walked into Haris’s chest.
“Who’s he talking to?” Haris whispered.
Tyler opened his mouth and shut it again.
“Get that wet nose out of my crotch,” Wilson said. “No, licking my ear doesn’t work…oooh.”
Haris pushed open the door and Wilson sprang to his feet. He held a small, scruffy, pathetic-looking dog which had one ear up and the other down. Tyler smothered his laugh.
“He followed me home, sir.” Wilson put the dog on the floor. “I was helpless to resist. It was the way he looked at me and attempted to wag his tail. Don’t worry about him being dirty, I’ve given him a bath, administered flea treatment and was just about to offer him something to eat.”
“My steak? Monday night’s dinner?”
Strips of lean beef sat on a plate on the counter.
“I was so certain that with your generous heart you’d insist on sharing,” Wilson said.
The dog crawled under the table.
Haris sighed. “Does it have to be the fillet?”
“He needs something soft and easy to digest.”
“Do all your strays get fillet steak?” Tyler asked.
Haris smothered a laugh, stroked his fingers down Tyler’s spine, and his defences started to crumble. From a touch?
“You are such a good man, sir,” Wilson said. “A veritable saint. What the poor starving dogs of Holland Park would do without your innate goodness, I really do not know.”
“Don’t try and con me this dog came from Holland Park. The pooches here all have diamonds in their collars and the owners never let them out of their arms, let alone their sight.”
“What’s his name?” Tyler asked.
“Alcide,” Wilson said.
Haris raised his eyebrows. “To go with Bill, Jason, Sam, Eric and Sookie?”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Alcide can stay until you find him a home, but he remains in the kitchen or downstairs with you.”
Tyler crouched and held out his hand.
“He’s very shy. He won’t—” Wilson let out a choked laugh as Alcide sniffed Tyler’s hand and came out from under the table to lick his fingers.
Tyler scratched behind his ears. “You’re cute.”
“He just needs a bit of affection,” Wilson said. “He has to learn how to trust again, don’t you, boy? We need to show him not all humans are the same. Everyone deserves a second chance. He can trust us.”
Tyler felt a pang of guilt. Would it have been so hard to tell Haris about Jeremy? Maybe he should come clean about Prescott’s parties, and then there’d be no chance of the bastard blackmailing him.
“Did you want something?” Wilson asked as Tyler stood.
“I was…hungry. Could I make myself something to eat?”
“I’d be delighted to cook for you. I’m sure Alcide will be perfectly fine without my attention for a few moments. One small dog can’t possibly make much mess, particularly if I keep the flour and eggs out of reach.”
Tyler winced. “I only want a sandwich.”
“Which I’m only too pleased to—”
“Wilson,” Haris snapped, “let him make himself a sandwich.”
Haris left the kitchen and Tyler’s shoulders slumped. Not quite out of his black mood then.
“Bread in the box, butter in the dish, cheese and ham in the fridge, or there’s Marmite and jam in the cupboard,” Wilson said.
“Thank you.”
Tyler gathered everything together and smiled at Wilson hand feeding the dog tiny scraps of beef.
“Shall I make a sandwich for Haris?” Tyler asked.
Wilson opened his mouth and Tyler just knew ‘no’ was going to come out, but Wilson said, “Yes. That would kind.”
“Does he like Marmite?”
“A faint smear.”
“What about you? Would you like a sandwich too?”
“No, but thank you for asking.”
Tyler sawed awkwardly at the loaf. He only ever bought sliced bread.
“So…” he mumbled. “Am I one of many strays?”
“I’ve no idea what you mean, sir.”
“Cut out the sir. I know you don’t like me.”
Wilson sat at the table with the dog in his arms. “I apologize if I’ve given that impression. I don’t know you. I’m not able to judge. Yet. But no, you’re not one of many. No one on two legs has ever been invited to stay here before, and of course you are no bother, the extra bedroom and bathroom to clean should take me no time at all, provided my back doesn’t seize up. And whatever makes my employer happy makes me happy. Mostly.”
Tyler let out a heavy sigh. “Except he’s not happy.”
“You’ve disturbed the equilibrium, and sometimes that can be a good thing. He’s…”
“What?”
“He’s a good man. A word of warning, if I may be so bold. If you hurt him, I’ll hurt you.”
Tyler almost dropped the jar of Marmite. For a moment, Wilson had looked and sounded an entirely different guy. On the point of saying what if Haris hurt him, Tyler pressed his lips together. He tidied up before he left the kitchen and carried two plates of sandwiches to the study where Haris worked on a laptop.
“I made you a sandwich too.” Tyler put it on the desk.
Haris ignored it and him. Tyler slumped in a chair and rested the plate on his lap. One mouthful and he realized he’d cut the bread too thick.
“Take little bites or you might choke,” he said.
Haris looked up from the laptop to the plate and rolled his eyes. Tyler glanced around the room. Books, books and more books. Oh and a photograph in a silver frame. He pushed himself up and walked over to it. Three boys and their parents. “Is that—?”
Haris reached round, snatched the picture, put it face down on his desk and carried on working.
Tyler knew it was up to him to put this right. He had a feeling the guy could win medals for sulking.
“I haven’t and won’t break the terms of our arrangement,” Tyler said. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you can trust me. But you have to let me breathe. You can’t chain me to you.”
“You walked out in the middle of the fucking night without a word. I was worried,” Haris muttered through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry.” Tyler picked up the sandwich and then put it down again. “A friend needed help. That’s all it was. He’d been…”
Haris looked across at him. “What?”
“Raped.”
Haris’s eyes widened in shock.
“And no, he hasn’t told the police. He won’t. He knows what will happen if he does; the humiliation, the raking up of all his sexual history, and the rapist would likely still get away with it.”
“Is he…okay?”
“A little knocked around but yeah, he’ll live. He’s learned a lesson the hard way.”
Haris opened his mouth and Tyler spoke quickly before he could ask for more details. “I’ve a gig on Tuesday night. You can come if you like.”
There was a long pause before Haris answered. “What time?”
“We’re on at nine. We usually rehearse in college after lectures and go straight to the venue. The Room on Borough High Street.”
Haris smiled. “I’d love to come. Thank you. I have to attend a charity dinner this evening. Want to give your new tux an outing?”
Tyler breathed a mental sigh of relief. “Sure. You’re going to have to teach me how to tie a bow tie.”
Haris pushed to his feet. “I’ll show you now.”
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
“I want to be disturbed.”
“So we’re friends again?” Tyler asked.
Haris nodded.
Haris hated to be this needy but felt powerless to resist Tyler. Before they’d even reached the bedroom, he had the guy half-undressed. Tyler tripped on his trousers and stumbled into the dark room, laughing. Haris switched on the light and yanked off his own clothes before Tyler had untangled himself from the rest of his. But when he reached to pull Tyler down on the bed, he twisted round and Haris was the one who landed on his back.
“Let me be in charge?” Tyler asked.
Haris nodded.
“Scoot down so your backside’s at the bottom of the bed and bend your knees so your feet are on the bed too.”
Lust raged through him, every brush against his skin by any part of Tyler sent shivers of anticipation rippling through his body like rivers of fire. He positioned himself as Tyler had requested and leaned up on his elbows to watch the guy stroke his own cock and play with his balls.
Haris’s mouth watered. “Need help with that?”
“Nope. I want you to come first.”
That sounded good to him. Haris allowed his head to drop to the bed and his eyes fluttered shut. His cock ached, his swollen nuts were drawn up tight and he needed Tyler’s inventive mouth on him right now. He sucked in a breath at the blast of warm air hitting his balls. The sensation made his nerve endings riot and goose bumps skittered over his skin. He held his breath as Tyler slowly licked up the seam of his scrotum, continued to the tip of his cock and circled the head. As the wet tongue dipped into his slit, Haris released a long, loud groan.
“You taste better than Marmite,” Tyler whispered. “And I really like Marmite.”
Haris laughed and then shivered as Tyler’s hair brushed his thighs. He used his tongue to separate his balls, pressing down hard between, and Haris clutched the bed cover in his fists. “Oh fuck, fuck.”
“You like that?” Tyler whispered. “Or do you want me to stop?”
“I thought…you…were the one in charge.” He gasped as Tyler sucked hard at the root of his cock at the point where it joined his body. “Shhhiiit,” he mumbled.
“Don’t come until I tell you,” Tyler said.
A gurgle of laughter slipped from his mouth. “That’s not going to work. My cock has a mind of its own.”
Tyler laved his balls, his cock, the creases of his thighs. He kissed, lapped and sucked him to the edge of nirvana. He teased him to the very brink of detonation and then clamped his hand down tight at the base of his cock and pressed the heel of his palm on his balls and stopped the orgasm in its tracks. Haris shook with the need to come, anticipation stealing the air from his lungs. Tyler’s mouth latched onto the stretch of skin between his balls and his anus, and sucked with the perfect pressure to make his head swim.
“That…ahh God…fuck.” Haris lost the ability to speak as Tyler brought his other hand into play, forming two tight rings around his cock using his thumbs and index fingers. He started slow, sliding the rings in opposite directions, squeezing down to the base and up to the crest at the same time. The need to come roared back like a tornado, the sensation toe curling, the friction delicious and as Tyler’s hands moved faster, with a flood of pre-come acting as lubricant, Haris raced toward completion.
Only for the guy to bring him down again. The ache in his gut deepened.
“Oh you beautiful fucking gorgeous bastard,” Haris grunted.
“I think you mean highly skilled pleasure bringer.”
Haris snorted but the sound was choked off as Tyler pressed the tip of his tongue against his anus. The hands slowed on his cock as Tyler rimmed him, fluttering his tongue around the tight ring of muscles, teasing, pressing, tormenting until Haris’s breath came out in stuttering bursts. He couldn’t help rocking his hips, trying to get more of Tyler’s hot tongue. Nothing else mattered but that.
“Oh b…f…sh…,” he muttered. I’m losing my mind.
Tyler licked and pushed until his tongue breached the barrier and then Haris could barely inhale.
“That’s…oh fuck.”
He slid into a fugue-like state in which he was ultra-aware of the feel of Tyler’s silky hair against his inner thighs, the rub of his nose against his skin, the rasp of his cheeks, the wet warmth of his tongue reaming his arse, and the firm touch of expert hands on his cock and balls. He wanted the sensation to go on forever, but the deep ache in his gut told him he couldn’t last much longer.
“Not yet,” Tyler muttered into his backside.
“I…can’t.”
“Yeah you can. Think of something boring.”
He tried and failed. A sharp pain sprang up at the base of his skull, an army of ants stampeded down his spine and his body spasmed. Tyler pressed on the triangle of skin behind his balls and the already intense orgasm hit him harder. Every part of him became caught up in the sensation, not just his cock and his exploding balls. His back arched off the bed, his lungs locked and his heart faltered. Long, thick ropes of come spurted up his chest, and a drop hit his lips. For fuck’s sake. When does that ever happen outside porn movies? For a long, delirious moment he hung frozen in ecstasy before he fell back to the bed, making sounds that sounded suspiciously like childish sobs.
Tyler soothed him down with licks and soft caresses.
“Fucking hell,” Haris blurted. “Unbelievable.” Where did you learn to do that? Even as the thought surged into his mind, he pushed it aside. Whatever Tyler had done in the past didn’t matter. He was his now. For four months anyway.
His heart rate slowed, his breathing eased and the world came back into focus. He leaned up to look down at Tyler’s smug grin, and he smiled.
“Hold that thought,” Tyler said. “You’re very messy. I have some cleaning to do.”
Supporting himself on all fours over Haris’s body, Tyler licked his way up his chest, lapping at the come until he reached his chin.
“Your fucking chin? How did you manage that? Think we should have a contest to see who can shoot the farthest?” Tyler asked.
“No because we’re not teenagers and you can practically bend yourself in half. I don’t enter contests I can’t win.”
“That’s not very sporting.”
“I’m a control freak. I can’t help it.”
Tyler lowered his head and sucked on Haris’s lower lip, using the tip of his tongue to caress the point just below it. Haris groaned, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him down to lie on him.
“How come you’re so good at this?” Haris spoke without thinking. “You know every way to drive me wild.”
When Tyler tensed he regretted the question.
“Guess I’m naturally gifted.” Tyler paused. “Or a sex maniac. Or both, I suppose.”
Haris laughed.
“Talking of sex…” Tyler moved off him. “My turn. Roll over.”
“Let me switch off the light.”
“No.” Tyler snagged his arm as he started to get off the bed. “Leave it on.”
A bubble of unease grew in his gut. Haris hesitated.
“I’m in charge. We agreed.”
“I…I don’t—”
Tyler pinned him with his gaze. “I know you don’t, but the scars aren’t going away. I don’t know how long you’ve lived with them, but I don’t see them when I look at you. I won’t see them when we’re fucking.”
How could he not? But he wanted to feel the length of Tyler pressed on his back. No one had fucked him like that. Ever. He rolled over and closed his eyes. He might be telling himself to relax, but his heart hammered and his fingers curled into fists. If Tyler touched his scars, he’d flip but instead the guy licked his ankle, and when he sucked at the patch of skin there, below the bone, Haris just about flew.
Under a flurry of kisses, caresses and licks up his calves and then his thighs, gradually the tension seeped from his body. Tyler was slow and patient, massaging the anxiety out of him, getting him ready with his fingers. By the time the guy had slid on a condom, lubed up and pressed himself into him, nothing had ever felt more right. He stopped thinking about his back, stopped thinking period and just enjoyed the weight, the pressure, the heat of Tyler’s body on his, in his, the sounds the guy made as he rocked into him and the sensation of Tyler’s cock buried inside his body.
When Tyler came, trembling against him, instead of thinking he couldn’t have chosen someone better, Haris wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. What if four months wasn’t enough?
Tyler lay slumped on top of him, his cock still inside him, panting into his neck. He had his arms stretched over his, their fingers entwined.
“You have such a responsive arse,” Tyler muttered.
“It’s talking to you?”
“Oh yeah. It said, ‘Thank you, Tyler, for fucking me beautifully. You are so wonderful.’” He laughed. “God, I could lie here forever on you like this. Your backside didn’t say that part. That was me.”
Haris chuckled.
It was several moments before Tyler pulled out. He climbed off the bed and padded into the bathroom.
“Am I still giving the orders?” he called.
“Depends.”
“Get in here and wash me, slave,” Tyler said.
Haris grinned and climbed off the bed.
They very nearly didn’t make it to the charity event and not because Tyler couldn’t get the hang of tying his bow tie—although he couldn’t. Haris gave up in the end and tied it for him. But once Tyler stood in front of him in his tux, he looked so damn sexy, Haris wanted to strip him and drag him back to bed which kind of alarmed him. Maybe if they fucked often enough, he’d get Tyler out of his system. Wasn’t that what the four months was about? Scratching an itch? Proving to himself he could sustain a relationship? Keeping a tighter control of his emotions? Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d grow to believe it.
As they sat in the back of the car, their knees touched and Haris’s cock twitched. Christ. He was seriously worried about the chances of an inappropriate boner whenever Tyler was in the vicinity. He’d have to keep his jacket fastened the entire evening.
He’d called Stan and told him they were going out and hopefully the guy was somewhere behind them. Several glances through the back window had shown no sign of anyone following.
“What are you looking for?” Tyler asked.
Haris considered lying, but he needed Tyler to have his wits about him just in case. “Wilson thinks a white Fiat has followed us on occasion.”
He hadn’t expected the wide-eyed look from Tyler, nor the obvious tension in his body.
“You know someone with a white Fiat?” Haris asked, stones tumbling in his gut.
“No. Following in a Fiat? That’s not very glamorous. Not a BMW or an Audi?” Tyler’s smile looked forced. “Why would someone be tailing you?”
“There probably isn’t, but in my business I have as many enemies as friends. Better to be careful.”
He was relieved when Tyler didn’t press him. He might have enemies in the business world, but there would be no logical reason for them to tail him.
The car stopped and Wilson came round to open the door. Tyler had already exited on the other side.
“Didn’t see the car tonight, sir,” Wilson said quietly. “What time would you like to be collected?”
“Ten thirty.”
Haris joined Tyler in front of the floodlit Natural History Museum. Christmas music travelled through the air from an ice rink in the grounds.
“Maybe we could—”
“No,” Tyler said. “My backside’s been punished enough.”
Haris smiled and headed toward the entrance along a path lit with blazing torches.
“What’s this in aid of?” Tyler asked.
“Fundraiser for a cancer charity. It’s a dinner and an auction.”
“And it’s okay for me to come?”
“I bought the whole table. There’s room for you.”
Haris showed his ticket to the chap on the door and they walked into the towering central hall.
“Wow,” Tyler said at his side. “It looks fantastic.”
Haris agreed. A diving whale took centre stage, elaborately decorated tables arranged beneath it, the place settings sparkling under the multitude of lights. Above the middle of each table sat a Christmas tree, supported on silver branches. At the side of the room, a group of singers dressed in Victorian clothes were halfway through “Hark the Herald”. All the scene needed was fake snow.
A waitress approached with a tray of drinks, and Haris and Tyler took glasses of champagne.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Tyler said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Work from the outside in on the cutlery, right? And don’t worry, I won’t lick my plate, just so long as there isn’t any maple syrup.”
He chuckled. “Come on. Let’s mingle.”
Tyler hung back. “What am I supposed to say if someone asks who I am?”
“The truth. You’re a music student and you’re my friend.”
“You’re no fun. I wanted to tell them how much you like fucking my arse.”
Haris almost choked on his champagne.