Chapter 9

Paul drained his glass then opened the freezer and reached for the ice cube tray. He hummed along with Fireworks by First Aid Kit as he prepared another drink. He ignored the dining area and the living room and his soul sank as he wondered what he was doing.

You didn’t even get over Aiden before you fell in love with a man with no name. The song was enthralling and lonely and Paul felt haunted as he stared at his laptop. It was open and waiting on the bedside table because he liked talking to him until he was drowsy and it was almost like falling asleep together. Paul sighed as he leaned against the wall then sipped his drink.

“What do you drink? Do you drink?” He asked and pushed his hand under the waist of his boxer briefs as he began to sway.

“I do my very best to avoid being sober while I’m conscious. I’m a civilized person so I keep a bottle of champagne in the bucket but there isn’t a lot I won’t drink. Except rum. I despise rum.”

“You are there,” Paul murmured.

“I like to keep you on while I’m alone. It’s almost like you’re pacing in the other room when I catch you out of the corner of my eye,” he said and Paul laughed softly.

“I can feel you watching me all the time and I know you’re listening. You’re like a ghost, I’m the only one who knows you’re here.” He could always feel him but he ached to feel him. The world felt huge because Paul knew he was somewhere out there, too far out of his reach, no matter how much he wished for him. It made Paul feel small and even more isolated, like he lived under a microscope. And the only time he lived was when he heard his voice. It was lonely but Paul was enchanted and he couldn’t imagine running, showering, eating, driving… Doing anything without his voice in his ear or teasing him from a speaker across the room. “Why isn’t this weird?” He asked and there was a throaty hum. It spilled through Paul and he swallowed a groan as his body tightened.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t care less about anyone but myself but I like pretending you’re ironing your trousers on the other side of the room,” he said and Paul laughed softly. “There are two beautiful boys who may or may not be actual twins in my bed and I’ve barely even looked at them. I’d rather watch you type reports in your underwear,” he added and Paul swore under his breath as his stomach became cold and twisted.

“Get rid of them,” he said then shook his head in disbelief as he lifted his glass to his lips. There was silence before he cleared his throat.

“Just a moment,” he said softly. “Hey. You two… Fuck and Suck, whatever your names are… Leave,” he said and Paul pulled his lips in to keep from smiling or laughing. He could hear muffled complaints in the background before doors opened and shut and it was silent again. “I don’t know why I keep men around anymore. I’m not interested unless I can pretend he’s you but even then, I’d rather talk to you about how much I hate the French or your irrational fear of bugs for hours,” he complained and Paul snorted.

“You spend a lot of time in Paris, for someone who hates the French,” he pointed out.

“My employer hates me and decided it was time to develop his own line of colognes,” he said and Paul’s eyes flicked upwards.

“How does that make any sense? Every other person on the planet wishes they worked for someone who made them take luxurious as fuck trips to Paris,” Paul said and he made a bored, petulant sound.

“He’s far too busy with his new family, he can’t possibly take care of this himself and it has to happen this year. I know what he’s doing, Sloan.”

“What’s that?” Paul chuckled as he fell on the bed then angled the computer so most of his body was on the screen. A window opened and Paul was in a hotel suite the size of his condo. The room spun slowly, giving Paul a view of the entire suite before he backed toward the bed.

“He’s trying to domesticate me. He’s hoping I’ll discover I’ve got a passion for something respectable or fall in love. He thinks if he keeps pushing me at wealthy, powerful men, someone will sweep me off my feet and take me off his hands,” he explained and Paul glared at the wall as he imagined putting his fist through Holderson’s face. The sinking twisting feeling intensified as he watched him stretch out on his stomach and point the camera over his shoulder, giving Paul a perfect view of his long, sculpted back and his tight, round ass.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Paul murmured as he became hard and restless.

“I was engaged to a man with a palace and his own army but ended it because I got tired of all the sand. I’ve turned men like my employer into lap dogs then called it off. Maybe I’m too rich or too accustomed to power, becoming a trophy wife doesn’t sound like a lot of fun to me. I’ve seen princes, ambassadors and generals reduced to transactions and erased like documents. I’ve arranged death with a storm of key strokes and torched careers and reputations. I’ve turned clicks into lightning strikes and burned regimes to the ground. I’m not as impressed by yachts and palaces as I used to be,” he said and Paul nodded slowly.

“I can see that. What do you want?” He asked.

“I’m not completely sure but a man who irons his own trousers, types reports in his underwear, panics about bugs and listens to me complain about the French might be nice. I’ll give him every cold, hard piece of my heart if he can fuck me hard enough to feel something real,” he said and Paul hissed as he shifted and pushed his boxers down his hips.

“I’m here, whenever you’re ready,” he said as his hands roamed his chest, thighs, abs, sack… He imagined they were his hands, pulling and scratching as his nerves flickered and his erection became heavy and his sack tightened. Paul looked at the screen and he had his knee pulled close to his elbow as he reached behind him and fingered his ass. Another window opened and Paul whimpered. The camera was recording from a dresser behind the bed and zoomed in on his fingers as they twisted and thrust into his hole.

“Oh, God!” He panted. “I’m so ready but I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” he confessed breathlessly and Paul gripped his cock tight and stroked.

“I think you’re scared,” he said and lust roared through him as he moaned in frustration. He pushed off the bed and rose on his knees and Paul held his breath as his face passed in front of the camera. A blindfold was stretched across his eyes and Paul felt a flash of disappointment before he reached behind his back and continued fingering his ass. Heat and intense pressure slammed into the base of Paul’s shaft and his balls pulled as he rocked his hips and rode his fingers. He was so fucking beautiful and Paul felt a scream clawing its way out of his chest and his throat. Out of his soul. It wasn’t the orgasm building in his core and making his nerves flare and his skin burn. It was the frantic, raging need to feel their bodies locked together, to taste his sweat and his cum and feel his teeth digging into his skin. “You’re afraid it’s going to be good and you know I’m what you need,” he ground out as he fought to keep his eyes from rolling. He didn’t want to miss it.

“Fuck!” He squeaked then nodded quickly. “I know. I’m scared,” he huffed as his chest rose and fell rapidly. His jaw stretched on a silent sob and everything stopped as Paul held his breath. He was stunning as his head fell and his back arched. Paul’s hips bucked off the bed as cum burst from his cock in thick ribbons. “Sloan…” He breathed as his body jerked and shivered.

“Jesus!” Paul gasped as his head slammed back on the pillows and heat and pressure flared. His body exploded as cum shot from the head of his erection and landed in fat drops on his stomach and neck. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” he said as his chest heaved. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited for his heart to stop pounding in his ears.

“Don’t say that. Some of this is beyond my control,” he said and Paul waved it off as he rolled out of bed.

“Whatever. You can torch careers and burn regimes to the ground, don’t tell me you can’t work out a booty call,” he said as he went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He cleaned himself and washed his hands then shut off the light.

“Do you really think it’ll be just a booty call with us?” He asked and Paul shrugged before he crawled back onto the bed.

“I have no way of knowing, do I?” He asked as his temper flickered again. He wanted to hold him and know what his skin and hair smelled like after sex. He wanted to feel his breath on his skin as they drifted off to sleep. “How does a spoiled aristocrat become whatever it is you are?” Paul asked and he hummed as he rolled onto his back. The blindfold sailed across the room and Paul glared at the screen. What was the point? Unless he’s someone recognizable…

“How do you know I’m an aristocrat?” He asked and there was a hitch of wariness in his voice. Paul’s eyes rolled as he rose on his elbows and looked at his laptop’s camera.

“It was a guess. Nobody’s British accent’s that perfect unless they’ve practiced like hell to hide that they’re not from the posh parts of London. But they always slip here and there, especially after they’ve had a few drinks or become tired. You never slip because you’ve always been posh.”

“It’s that brain that makes you so sexy,” he said and Paul pulled a face.

“Come on. You know everything about me and I’ve been honest with you. You have to give me something,” he urged and he pouted sympathetically.

“I have to be careful with you. You’re smart and you’re so much more dangerous than the men I usually get involved with. You might not have a palace or an army but you have integrity and loyalty and a moral compass. There’s a lot I want to trust you with but I’m risking everything I have and his life as well,” he explained. Paul frowned as his neck and shoulder muscles tightened instinctively. It felt like he was talking about something much more important and serious than his identity and it made Paul slightly anxious.

“Do you believe I could hurt you?” He asked.

“If you thought you were doing the right thing? Possibly. I’m not sure what’s stronger: me or your conscience,” he said and Paul sighed as he reached for his computer. He had no way of knowing if he was making any real progress and he was tired of waiting. It was time to try a different tactic.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he said then shut his laptop.