CHAPTER TWENTY
“When can we go to the house? Nik? Are you awake?”
“I am now.” He glanced at the clock. “Fucking hell, Ben, it’s two a.m. I’ve been asleep for approximately half an hour. Fuck off.”
“Did you just swear at me?”
“I never swear, as you know. Get off me and go to sleep.” Ben dutifully rolled off Nikolas, easing himself out as he did. He was hard again, but although Nikolas had obviously noticed this, he turned on his side away from Ben and pulled the covers over his head.
Ben lay thinking things over, his head buzzing, totally unable to sleep. After a while, he got up, but a hand snaked out from the covers and caught his wrist. “Where’re you going?”
“Just down to get some water! I’m okay, Nik. God, you’ll be following me to the bathroom…” He trailed off and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”
“That’s the old Benjamin. Apologising for things that are my fault. I give you my permission to get some water.”
Ben thumped him gently where he could see skin and not bruising or scarring and went downstairs. He sat with Radulf for while as he drank the water, updating him on the house situation.
When he returned to bed, Nikolas was asleep, which was a good sign. He’d not slept for the last two nights but had kept vigil beside him. He slid very carefully in alongside the silent figure.
If Ben could cut off a hand or arm or something vital to make visible and obvious amends for what he’d put Nikolas through, he would. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, he woke up with a huge weight of fear pressing down on him when he remembered if he’d succeeded in doing what he’d tried to do, if Nikolas had stayed down at the lake for half an hour, maybe fifteen minutes longer, Nik would’ve come back to the cabin and found himself alone, betrayed—deserted. After all he’d gone through. After all he’d done to survive and come back to him. Nikolas told him he wouldn’t have succeeded anyway, because he was cutting wrong or something—Nikolas had a slightly unsettling knowledge of these things—but Ben wasn’t so sure about this. He was determined when he put his mind to things. So now he had Nikolas’s return to health to put his mind to. If Nikolas wanted to baby him, feed him, constantly watch him, then he, Ben, would let him. He’d grumble and complain and pretend he didn’t need Nik’s constant attention, because it wouldn’t seem normal without that. He would, however, be and do whatever Nikolas Mikkelsen wanted him to be and do, for however long Nik wanted—needed—that to be. They were joined now. He too put their wrists together at the matching scars. Who needed rings to bind you unto death when you had scars and stitches, bruises and blood?
He spooned himself against Nikolas’s warm back, moulding himself around his firm arse, pressing his swelling cock against the warm flesh where it would wait, satisfactorily hard and eager until they were ready. He slid his arm over Nik’s chest and pressed his face against his hair. When he was fully immersed in the scent and feel of real-Nikolas, he breathed deeply once and let himself think about the house, his name, and all that might come of this great revelation.
§ § §
It took them almost another week to extract themselves from Denmark and return home to London. Nikolas had builders at the summerhouse to organise; Ben had people to say good-bye to. Nikolas felt sure their involvement with Gabby Peterson was not entirely over, but he’d retained Jans LaCour’s services as well and left further liaison with the police in his capable hands. Ben, he was determined, wouldn’t be questioned by them again.
It was on a very dark, wet and cold January night, therefore, they returned to English soil and drove the final few miles through heavy rain to their house in London. It’d been totally cleansed of the events that’d driven them both from home many months ago, and Kate had been in and put the heating on and left them a refrigerator full of food. Nikolas went immediately to his office. Radulf was clearly glad to be back in familiar territory, and this, added to the high of his successful and highly illegal defeat of British customs, saw him collapse happily in his basket in the kitchen. Which only left Ben. He was feeling disassociated again. He’d lived a life of brilliant white snow and Danish for so long that to return to rain and the washed-out greys of London and the flatter, more prosaic English was unsettling. He needed to unpack but only stared at their bags without enthusiasm. He desperately needed to do laundry but, again, couldn’t summon the energy. All he wanted to do was go to his house, to feel once more the strange spirit of place that had so entranced him the first time—but now enjoy it knowing its provenance. But Nikolas had finally admitted to him his claim was being contested and had told him to be patient.
He put the kettle on which was always a good standby and eyed the bottles of wine Kate had left on the counter. Both he and Nikolas had stopped drinking after…He looked down at his wrist. He was rubbing his scar again. Nikolas badgered him about this as much as he’d once nagged Nik about smoking. He couldn’t seem to stop doing it. It was like a talisman, if he rubbed it, it reminded him. Reminded, he knew what he owed now to Nikolas. Nikolas wanted him to owe it to himself, but Ben knew better. If he was getting better, if his world was righting itself once more on its correct axis, then this was because he too wanted a long life—and he wanted it alongside Nikolas Mikkelsen.
Finally, although he hated himself for being so weak, he wandered up to the office.
Nikolas was doing something on the computer. He turned the screen slightly away from Ben and didn’t look up. “Did you get lost?”
This was something of a standing joke between them; Ben and office work didn’t do well together. Ben perched on the edge of the desk, watching him. “What’re you doing?”
“This life of idle indulgence doesn’t pay for itself. Annoyingly, I have to occasionally click some buttons to produce this vast amount of wealth we both enjoy. What do you want?”
“You?”
“I’m busy, Ben. Go play with your toys.”
Ben slid closer. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, only my toys are…here…”
§ § §
Nikolas wondered later if he’d lost a few million because he realised one hand had been on the keyboard as he’d taken Ben, very slowly, bent over the desk. Who knows?—maybe he’d made a few instead…
Afterward, in the shower, Ben seemed distant once more. Nikolas didn’t get a face full of soapsuds, he didn’t get annoyingly probed or squeezed, or any of the other things Ben usually amused himself with when he had a captive, naked Nikolas. He pursed his lips for a while, debating letting it go. He’d known Ben intimately for five years and knew very well Ben would probably tell him what was wrong sooner or later. But he didn’t want later. Later hadn’t worked so well for them recently. When they were drying off, therefore, Nikolas commented as casually as he could, “You’re very quiet.”
Ben shrugged.
“I rest my case.”
Ben sighed. “It’s you.”
“Me! Well, that’s more like the old Benjamin. What’ve I done now?”
“It’s what you’re not doing.”
“Ah.” Nikolas knew very well where this was going, and he didn’t like it. He tried to slide past Ben toward the bedroom, but Ben caught his arm.
“I’m not a fucking girl, Nik.”
Nikolas shook his hand off. “I’d have thought, given what we’ve just spent the last hour doing, it was obvious I know you aren’t a girl. And how many times do I have to tell you—don’t swear at me. ”
“I don’t know, Nikolas, how many times do I have to tell you I’m fine? I don’t need mollycoddling. I don’t need you constantly monitoring me, and most of all I don’t need you to fuck me like I’ll break in two if you so much as thrust too hard. What the fuck was that in there? Last time we did that in the office, we broke the desk if you recall!”
“I do, and it was expensive to replace.”
“Bollocks, and it wasn’t. You’re just making that up. This is about those questions the police asked you, isn’t it?”
Nikolas rounded on him. “I’d have thought it was more about the questions the police asked you, the examin—”
“It wasn’t any of that that got to me. It was the…other things they said. I didn’t—don’t—care about the bruises, you know that—or you used to.”
“Well, I cared! Fuck, Ben, I had to sit there and let those little men recite a catalogue of injuries, as if I’d done to you what that psychotic bitch did to me. Rope burns! Rape? How do you think that made me feel?”
Ben suddenly chuckled. “You didn’t let them know how you felt. That was so cool.”
Slightly mollified, Nikolas went into the bedroom. “Well, I wasn’t so cool inside, Benjamin, trust me. I’m not going to hurt you like that again.”
Ben caught him around the waist and wrestled him to the bed. They lay side by side, naked. Ben turned his head and regarded the stony profile. “You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust myself.”
“You’re demeaning me by making this decision for us both.”
“Have you been reading women’s magazines again?”
“There you go again. Making fun of it, making fun of me. You don’t take me seriously.”
“If I hadn’t spent my formative years in prison camps of only men, I might be married now with a wife who nags me. Oh, I am.”
Ben sat up. Nikolas pulled him back down. He turned his head to meet Ben’s gaze. “Shall I tell you a secret?”
Ben’s eyes went wide. “I thought you instantly combusted if you even so much as implied those words.”
“I might. When that cun—” He shuddered. “When Ann―Gabby—had me in the shed, she said she loved you. I kept my cool, of course, just as I did with the policemen, but I do remember telling her something along the lines of she couldn’t have my fucking boyfriend.”
“You?” Ben looked at him slightly askance. “You actually used the B-word?”
“Uh-huh. Me. So, there you are. I said it first. So, who isn’t taking whom seriously?”
“But you didn’t actually say it to me.”
“Well, I’m not that gay. So, my point being, hurting you in any way doesn’t seem consistent with how I feel about you.”
Ben lay back, seeming to consider this for a while. Nikolas twitched the covers over them both. He hadn’t thought they were going to bed, but it seemed like a good idea now. Finally, Ben countered, “So, if I took this,” he held Nikolas’s hand and put it to his cock, which was hard and standing high, “and opened you up and rammed you with it until you hurt, you wouldn’t like that?” He made Nikolas’s hand slide up and down with his.
Nikolas swallowed hard. “Don’t be stupid, Ben. You know I would, but that’s me, this is—”
“Me. It’s me, Nik. I’m still me. That’s what I’m trying to say to you. I’m still the same bloke who followed you into the billiard room that night. Remember? We’d been drinking all night? You kept staring at me, and I thought you were trying to decide whether to offer me the job or not. You asked if I played billiards, and I said no, so you offered to teach me? Fuck, I still can’t work out how we went from me copying you with that damn little chalk thing, screwing our cues around, to—”
“If you can’t work that out, you’re more stupid than that stupid dog of ours.”
“I bent over the table to take my first shot. You came up behind me to adjust my position—”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“And then I realised it wasn’t only me who was hard enough to fuck the bloody table. You didn’t even ask. Didn’t speak, just took me. Bloody hell. You’d interviewed me, invited me down for the weekend, said two words to me—and those were barked orders, I seem to remember—and then that. I’d never even considered being with a bloke before I met you. I mean, totally not gay, yeah?”
“You didn’t resist.”
“No. I didn’t. How did you know I wouldn’t?”
Nikolas flicked his eyes up from watching his enjoyable stroking of Ben’s cock. “I wasn’t sure, if you want to know the truth. But it’s also true I didn’t care particularly. I wanted you and would’ve taken you anyway. I told you, Benjamin, when I first saw you, I fell. I was still in freefall that weekend. I was spinning out of control, and now you know more of my past than you knew then, you’ll understand how unsettling that was for me.”
Ben turned his head on the pillow. “You’d have taken me anyway? Forced me?”
Nikolas shrugged. “Persuaded you, perhaps.”
“Persuade me now, Nik.” He pulled away from Nikolas’s hand and turned onto his belly, lifting one thigh. Nikolas groaned softly and rose above him, pressing Ben’s shoulders down onto the bed, working himself over the tight offering beneath until he was ready. Just as he was about to enter, Ben turned, throwing him off. “I’ve changed my mind.” Nikolas was angry for a moment then rolled his eyes.
“I won’t hurt you again, Ben.”
“I don’t want you to hurt me.” He slid closer and nipped Nikolas’s lower lip. “I want you to want me—and fuck the consequences.” He took Nik’s more than ready cock and licked across the tip. “We’ll think about consequences tomorrow, yeah?” He took the hard slickness into his mouth, sucking, and Nikolas gasped in desire. Ben pulled slowly off, dragging his lips up the velvet hardness to the very tip then, tonguing the hole, murmured, “You can bring me breakfast in bed, pamper me, be all silently contrite, but tonight I just want things as they were.” He slid further away to his side of the bed. “I wanna share your falling. I wanna to see you out of control for me again.” He stood up and left the bed. “When you are, come and find me.”
Nikolas found him at the top of the stairs. Ben had managed to get about fifteen feet away. Nikolas took him down to the carpet, spreadeagled him with a knee and rammed home, making Ben cry out in pain. There was one moment when it could have gone either way. Nikolas’s heart told him one thing, but his cock another, and it was the cock that won out, his cock made the right decision.
They were totally in synch once more. Nikolas was in control, taking what he wanted, and Ben controlled in every way what that want was and how it was expressed. Nikolas took his time. Hard and violent didn’t necessarily mean quick. For once, he took the time to experiment with some of the gentleness he’d been using with Ben recently. He mixed it up, keeping Ben wary and on edge whether he was going to kiss into his hair or bite his neck, whether he eased in and out teasingly or whether he forced in and thumped hard, taking away his breath and crushing Ben to the floor. He stroked and petted, murmuring meaningless endearments, then spanked hard and remorseless; Ben’s flesh glowed pink. Finally, when he knew he could hold out no longer, he dragged Ben over onto his back and finished them both face-to-face. With one hand on Ben’s cock, twisting and working it in pace with his thrusting, he felt his body go, give in to release and relief and extreme pleasure, and in his hand, soaking his strong fist, he could feel Ben responding just as urgently.
§ § §
They’d both ignored the fact Nikolas was still recovering from serious injuries. It was only when he lowered himself down onto Ben, trembling, that Ben realised he’d probably picked a bad night to force this pleasure from Nikolas. They’d had a rough winter ferry crossing and a difficult Friday-night-traffic drive up from the coast. But he also knew Nikolas wouldn’t want any of this pointed out. However, they couldn’t stay on the floor of the landing all night. Even his much younger body might complain at that treatment in the morning. Very cautiously, therefore, he began to extricate himself from their joined tangle of limbs. Nikolas rolled off, immediately winced and put a hand to his head. “Take that ridiculous animal outside before you come to bed.” Ben grinned at the way Nikolas refused to admit he wanted time and space to limp back to bed unobserved. He rose and was about to return to the office to find his clothes when a hand snaked out and caught his ankle. “Don’t take him too far in the dark. He wouldn’t like it.” It was amazing, Ben reflected, how Nikolas’s tacit concerns for his safety always seemed to coincide with what was best for Radulf.
It was good advice, nevertheless. Radulf didn’t like the wet pavement or the rain and made these an excuse to return early to the warmth of the house. Ben knew it was really the dark he didn’t like, and the light he was returning to, but he didn’t call him on it. Radulf was a war hero, and you didn’t call war heroes on anything in Ben’s book. That he owed Nikolas’s life directly to this large scrap of unwanted fur they’d taken from a shelter one night never left Ben’s mind. Ben no longer worried he was dreaming Nikolas’s return; he knew he was back. He knew he was alive and safe. He didn’t worry, but he didn’t take it for granted, either. In quiet moments, he played a scenario through his mind where Radulf didn’t find Nikolas, a scenario where Gabby finished the very confused job she was doing on him—he pictured a tyre iron connecting with Nikolas’s head. Then he allowed himself the very great pleasure of knowing that hadn’t happened. This large, shaggy creature had shown his true colours that day. And his colours didn’t run. Ben grinned and eyed the dog now holding his blanket in one corner of his mouth as he nested into his basket once more. He clicked his fingers and allowed Radulf to accompany him up the stairs. He reckoned they were done for the night, and Radulf had earned the occasional opportunity to play on his new status and join the other damaged veterans in their bed.
Radulf settled himself by their feet in his favourite position, legs akimbo and offering himself shamelessly, should they be inclined. Ben eased into the space left. He was sore; it was undeniable. But, oh, it was so good to feel it at last, that throb, that ache. He lay pressed into Nikolas’s back, wondering whether he should be worried or ashamed at finding pleasure in this. But where was this different from all the other conscious decisions of his life that had resulted in pain? The army was a belief system based on pain, through pain you excelled. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d returned from punishing runs, every muscle in his body screaming, unable to move the next day, only to do it again and again until the pain turned into a confidence in his own physical ability that nothing and no one could shake. This was the same. They pushed and pushed at their limits until they were both sure of themselves and of each other. Nikolas had given the gift of confidence back to him that night.