CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In the end, their holiday destination was decided by what was available at such very short notice. It was a beach, a lagoon, and a luxury hut over the lagoon with guaranteed sun. What more did they need to know? The first flight was for twelve hours, then a change at Changi airport, and then another four hours to a place neither of them had heard of nor could spell. Both used to travel and travelling first class, the trip posed them no particular worries. More of a problem for Ben was leaving Radulf. He could tell the dog was depressed, and insisted everyone stop laughing at him when he said this. Radulf did appear even more anxious and sad which was saying something for a dog whose default setting now was nearly blind and badly scarred. Ben was on the point of cancelling the whole trip when a ring on the bell solved the problem on the afternoon before they had to leave. Nikolas never demeaned himself to answer the door unless he was expecting Ben, so he waved imperiously at him to do the honours. Ben dutifully got up, but before he could get the front door fully open, heard, “Fuck me, but this is some fucking posh place. Fallen on your fucking feet here, Diesel.”
Tim, who’d been going through final house-sitting details with them, shot Nikolas a very shifty look and rose uncertainly. Radulf struggled to his feet far more certain and skittered into the hall to greet his third favourite human. There was a lot of swearing, and then they came into the kitchen, Squeezy with a holdall. He didn’t appear to notice Tim, who theatrically ignored him in return.
Nikolas chuckled. “I’ve been outmanoeuvred by the SAS. I can sink no lower.”
Ben caught this as he entered, and buoyed on Radulf’s return to happiness, he came over and kissed Nikolas’s hair. “You’ve had five years practice, you should be used to it.”
Nikolas had never been kissed in front of two other men before. He’d certainly never been teased by Ben in front of two other men. Ben suddenly realised what he’d done. He froze, scrunching his face and trying to think of something to say to ease the moment. He needn’t have worried. Perhaps relaxed by the thought of escaping the rain and the cold, Nikolas merely swatted him—albeit harder than could be called wholly affectionate—and told him to fuck off with his little friends and play. Ben did. He took Squeezy on a tour of the house, showing him how everything worked and jokingly pointing him toward the second spare bedroom, knowing very well it wouldn’t be used.
§ § §
They packed that night. Nikolas took a while to decide which identity to travel on, and opted in the end for Christian Beck once more. He had a suspicion the inquest on Aeroe would be held while they were away, and he wanted it to be seen clearly they were on the other side of the world and couldn’t attend. Besides, he’d grown rather fond of Christian in some ways, sad man that he was, jealous of Nikolas Mikkelsen, needing the services of a male prostitute, beaten up by a librarian…The guy deserved a holiday.
§ § §
The airport service picked them up the next morning. Despite Squeezy’s presence, Ben was still anxious about leaving Radulf. He wasn’t impressed when the last thing Nikolas said to his two dog sitters was: “If you become fed up with him, here’s the address and number of the shelter. He can be returned at any time, even though he’s now slightly worse for wear.”
They climbed into the car. Ben suddenly told the driver to wait and returned and snatched the paper out of Squeezy’s hand. “Don’t you dare!” He looked down. In Nikolas’s beautiful cursive handwriting was a detailed and thoughtful list of everything anyone could ever want to know about looking after Radulf: his favourite food, where to walk him, what to do and not to do to help his blindness, what programmes he liked to watch, where he slept…Ben bit his lip and returned the list to Squeezy, tapping it. “Op orders, soldier.” Squeezy saluted. Daddybark was in very good hands.
Ben climbed in beside Nikolas and told the driver to go. He would never embarrass Nikolas in public by presuming on their relationship, but taking a punt their driver didn’t speak Danish, merely said, “Jeg elsker dig.” Nikolas gave the tiniest of smiles and then stared out of his window and watched wet, dark, miserable London flowing by.
§ § §
Nikolas was a very easy person to travel with. He read or sat thinking. Ben wasn’t the perfect travelling companion, but as they’d never flown together before, this was all new territory for them. Nikolas might have predicted twelve hours of sitting still wouldn’t suit Ben, but even he wouldn’t have guessed just how annoying Ben could be.
In accordance with his new policy of more openly admitting their relationship, Nikolas occasionally allowed Ben to touch him and, in return, would let his hand rest on Ben’s armrest, and once or twice flicked his ear when he returned to his seat. They always spoke in Danish now when in public, reasoning the chances of anyone understanding them were lower than if they spoke English. So it was slightly disconcerting for Nikolas that Ben decided to tell him what he intended to do to him when they reached their destination. This would’ve been all well and good had Nikolas not amused himself on Aeroe teaching Ben the wrong words for many things, just as he’d deliberately mistranslated the porn movie. However, a few hours later, Ben made up for everything by agreeing as twelve hours had passed in local time, Nikolas could have his pills. Nikolas could have kissed him, and as he decided no one would care anyway, he did—a brief lean across and brush of their lips.
At Changi, Nikolas was pale and strained. Flying and severe lack of sleep, he’d discovered, didn’t do much either for hallucinations or headaches. They made their connection flight. Ben wanted Nikolas to sleep on this leg, but he refused, the stress of travelling not as bad as the fear of being vulnerable. He had a window seat and spent the four hours staring out, a vein throbbing in his forehead, his fists clenched. They arrived at last on the island, a place of such contrast to what they’d left they were both utterly disorientated, Ben almost more than Nikolas, for by this time, Nikolas was concentrating only on staying on his feet and not embarrassing them both in public.
§ § §
The hotel transport took them along unmade roads that wound around the coast and through jungle until they came to a broad sweep of a shallow, pale green, translucent lagoon. The lagoon was sparingly dotted around with large huts on stilts, each one only accessible by shallow-bottom boat or by swimming for the energetic. They were taken to one of the huts, the furthest one from the beach, given a welcome brief neither listened to, and were then left to their own devices. Nikolas immediately and silently went to the bed, lay down and pulled the pillow over his head. It was well over forty degrees, and the light was so bright, the colour so vivid, Ben felt he was hallucinating himself. Although it was only lunchtime, he reckoned Nikolas had the right idea. He stripped out of his suit and slid naked onto the bed next to him. He gently extracted Nikolas from the pillow, loosened what clothes he could for him, and then, unsure of where they really where or what they were doing, he lost the rest of that day and most of the hot night to follow.
§ § §
Ben woke to find himself alone in the bed. It was exceptionally hot. He was sweating and sat up, panicked. He shot naked across to the front deck above the lagoon. Something rose from the water at him. He tripped back and was seized around the waist and kissed. He assumed it was Nikolas, so he kissed back, but he hardly recognised the figure holding him from the exhausted man he’d arrived on the island with. He’d never seen Nikolas in a swimsuit, for a start, and decided that was something he’d definitely never get tired of looking at.
Nikolas had apparently woken a couple of hours earlier to a sunrise over the lagoon and warm, shallow, green water over white sand that stretched further than he could see. He’d never swum in warm water. As he told Ben, for a superb swimmer, it was something of a novelty. Unable to resist, he’d already swum a couple of miles and was now hungry—mainly for breakfast, but also for Ben.
Before Ben had time to process he was on a tropical island, therefore, he was back in the hot bed on his belly being given a more enjoyable wakeup call. When they were done, they lay in the sticky heat, hearts coming down from the rush and bodies languid with the sex and the startling warmth. They heard a boat and watched with fascination as two young men dressed in white unloaded trays of elaborate breakfast on their deck and then discreetly drove away again. Nikolas turned his head to one side, staring at Ben. “Have we died?”
Ben pursed his lips, thinking. “It’s better than I ever imagined heaven. How are you feeling?”
“How do I look as if I’m feeling?”
“Well, I think I’m hallucinating you now anyway. You look…incredible.”
Nikolas smiled to play down the compliment. He held out his palm. “Sadly, I’m not as well inside as I apparently appear on the outside. It’s been more than twelve hours, no?”
Ben agreed and rummaged in his bags for more of Nikolas’s wonder drugs, then pulled on some shorts and went out onto the deck to bring in breakfast.
They had one room, basically consisting mainly of a huge bed. This was hung with a mosquito net, which swathed the whole bed and gave a pleasant illusion of privacy for a hut that had no real doors or windows. Everywhere they looked they could see nothing but green, tranquil water reflecting a light so bright they both had to wear sunglasses, even inside. Everything seemed like a hallucination, the colours intense, the sound of the surf over the reef surreal, the taste of the fruit exquisite. Nikolas, Ben noted with incredible satisfaction, actually ate more than he. There was a first time for everything, apparently. A long, early morning swim had invigorated Nik’s appetite. It had awakened other things as well, for as soon as they were done with the fruit, he pulled Ben back onto the bed. Ben could begin to see how this holiday was going to play out. He wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t complaining at all.