Ethan did so.
Behind him came the sounds of Hugh's undressing, rapid and uncontained. Then his hands were on his shoulders; turning him so that he was lying face down on the bed. He felt hands stroke their way down his back, and then he felt the brief ache as Hugh entered him. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat. He would not have imagined such a girth, such an aching fulfilment.
Then all was lost in thrusts and breath and moving, and the brief, aching cry that seared from both of their throats as the passion built and built and exploded in each of their bodies, lifting them up and out of themselves to a realm where only passion reaches.
Later, much later, they sank into satisfied sleep, Hugh's arm across Ethan's chest, curled together, passion sated.
***
How can I feel this happy?
Ethan was back in his own apartment, a day after the night he spent with Hugh. It was Monday.
Ethan sat in his room, looking at the vivid sunset lighting everything outside. He was grinning. Even a day later, every part of his body was warm, his whole system relaxed. I have never felt like this before.
Hugh was a wonderful man. Ideal, in so many ways. A great, funny conversationalist, a smart, inquiring mind, and the best lover he could ever imagine. Ethan sighed.
Inside him, he felt a brief insistent stab, which reminded him, as if he had forgotten, of his own predicament. I cannot tell him. I don't want him to know...what would he think?
He rolled out of bed and took himself to the bathroom. The day was still wonderful, and he showered, singing. He would see Hugh later that day.
After breakfast and dressing, Ethan was in the car, a new suit hugging his toned body.
“And I say yeah...yeah...yeah.” He sang along with the radio as he proceeded up the street, the glow of anticipation filling his body.
At the traffic lights, he looked down for perhaps the first time that morning. Something flapping at the edge of the windscreen caught his eye.
A parking ticket? Ethan grinned, a twisted, ironic smile. Maybe. Even that was not going to get him down, not today.
As he drove along the highway to work, he put it out of his mind.
Work passed swiftly, and before he noticed it, it was twenty past five. Time to get going, he thought. Hugh had come in briefly, just before lunch, to say he was going to be running late. A brief kiss and an email had shown that he was just as enchanted as Ethan, if not more so. Ethan could still feel the fire burning in his loins as he hurried down the corridor and to his car outside.
He was sliding into his seat when he noticed it again. Parking ticket. He slid the paper out from under his windscreen wiper.
He unfolded the paper, then closed it again, his breath heaving in his lungs. No. It can't be.
He waited for a moment, composing himself; opened the paper and looked again. He read the contents, his heart pounding.
Hi Ethan. It's me. You know my writing. I want him. Our son. I know where you are. You can't hide him from me.
It must be Alex. He did know the writing. And no one else knew he was pregnant. How could he find him? And why? Could he not just leave him to his new life? Had he not done enough?
I mean it, Ethan. If you try and keep him away, I will find you. Ethan read. I know where you are and I watch you. You will not be able to keep him from me. I won't let you.
Ethan shook his head, breath caught in his lungs. He wound down the window and gulped the fresh air. I can't believe this...can't believe he would say that to me.
And the tone of it: threatening, angry. What if he does know where I am? He found my car, after all. I don't usually park in the street. Just after...after Saturday. He shivered. How does he know where I am? How long has he been watching me? And, importantly, what will he do?
If Alex knew he was seeing another man...he had always been jealous. And clearly he was obsessed with having his offspring with him.
Ethan breathed deeply, crumpling the paper in his fist. He put his head back and closed his eyes.
What am I going to do?
He put the paper in the glove compartment.
I am going to forget about it, he vowed. He can't touch me. I won't let him threaten me, ruin my life. I have a choice. I am going to be happy.
He drove back home, forgetting with every mile the intensity of his worry. By the time he reached home, he was smiling again.
It is nothing. I will make it nothing. Tomorrow I will see Hugh, and all of this will be forgotten. I am going to live my life.
At home, he worked out, read his mails. By midnight he was fast asleep.
***
Tuesday dawned, sunny and warm. It was Ethan's half-day, and he felt relaxed and revitalised, despite the harrowing experience of the previous day. At work that morning, he was singing under his breath as he checked his diary and set things in order for the day.
“You're cheerful.” A voice from the door commented, smiling.
Ethan jumped, then looked up, smiling in return. “I am.”
Hugh stood in the door, looking as delighted and hesitant as Ethan felt himself.
“Are you free at ten?”
Ethan looked in his diary.
“I think so...I want to run these calculations quickly, and I have some documents to check, but I have time, I think.”
“Good.” Hugh smiled. “I need some help, and you were the first person I thought of.”
Ethan smiled.
“It's not really difficult stuff,” Hugh conceded, “but I need someone I can trust.”
“Sure.” Ethan smiled.
They looked at each other, eyes saying more than words could, and then Hugh left.
At ten, he and Hugh were in the downstairs office, where the records were kept.
“Okay...” Hugh started. “I need to make an inventory of all the dealings we have had with pharmaceutical companies.”
“And..?” Ethan prompted him.
“And, since it's confidentiality-related stuff for these companies, I'm doing it myself. With trusted help.” He grinned. “So. All we have to do is go through all these files...” Hugh's hand swept along a row of shelves, “and write down entries in here,” he lifted a notebook, “for every transaction with a pharma company we find.”
“All we have to do?” Ethan asked, eyebrow raised.
“Well...it should be done by two or three, if we really work at it,” Hugh smiled. “And then we both deserve an afternoon off.”
“Right.” Ethan nodded.
The morning passed in a blur of files lifted from shelves and read through, then put in a pile on the floor. They worked until three-thirty.
“I owe you overtime.” Hugh grinned, stretching the knots out of his back. He wiped a hand over his face, exhausted.
“Right.” Ethan grinned.
“But you'll take dinner as a down-payment?” Hugh asked, eyebrow raised.
“I accept.” Ethan nodded. They smiled.
They cleaned up and replaced the files on the shelves, and left.
As Ethan walked to his door at the apartment, he noticed something in the letterbox.
The postman was late today, he thought. Probably just some flyer from a takeaway. Still, he went over to fetch it.
As he opened it, he guessed what it was. His hand shook.
You must have found my note from yesterday. You should have done something then. I don't like repeating myself. I saw you leave. I know when you come back. I will do anything to get our son. Even if it means kill you. Come back to me. I am warning you.
Ethan sat down heavily and put his head in his hands. This was getting to him badly. He could feel his whole body shaking.
Be sensible, he told himself. Yes, this is threatening. But do you think he'll do it?
Still. He sounded none too stable. And the tone of the letter was menacing.
And why can't he just leave me alone? Ethan thought, suddenly exhausted. I am so happy, so fulfilled here. I don't need this.
As h
e stood and went inside, the thought occurred to him to tell Hugh. No, he thought. He means too much for me to risk his disapproval.
He threw the note away and showered. When he dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror, considering. There was no sign of his pregnancy. He was pleased. It won't show for months, he thought. I don't need to worry about it for months, yet. Hugh won't know, and I won't need to tell him. When it starts showing, I'll think of something.
He took one last look in the mirror, adjusted his tie and went down the stairs to the garden.
***
“So...you said you wanted to show me something?”
Ethan was beside Hugh, driving along away from Hugh's apartment. It was night, and Ethan had met him in the park near his home, spending the evening walking and stopping for a sandwich before retiring to Hugh's home.
There, Hugh had said that he invited him out here to show him something. They had piled in to Hugh's car and headed out into the fields beyond.
After ten minutes, Ethan was starting to feel curious. He swallowed.
“Almost there?”
“Just about.” Hugh smiled.
A few minutes later, they reached some trees, the start of a small woodland. The countryside was empty and silent, the only sound the rustle of the trees and the distant sound of wind and roadways, lost in the muffling blanket of the settling evening.
Hugh opened the door and got out. Ethan followed, curiosity rising in him like bubbles in his stomach.
Hugh leaned on the roof of the car, a worried expression hovering over his hard, warm features.
“I...have something I have to show you.” He began. His frown deepened. “I...have to, but I don't know what you'll think. If you hate me for it, at least don't tell anyone.”
Ethan looked at him, bewildered.
“You promise?” Hugh asked.
“Promise.” Ethan swallowed. “I couldn't hate you.”
Hugh swallowed. “Thank you.” Their eyes met.
He paused, and turned away, looking away from the car and to the wood, turning his back to Ethan and the car behind him.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Hugh disappeared.
“Hugh?” Ethan felt his voice rise out of him, torn from his throat with worry. “Hugh? For goodness' sake, man; what happened? Where are you?”
He walked around to the side of the car, and froze in wonder. Beside the car stood a large grey timber wolf.
“Hugh!” Ethan's voice was joyous. “That's wonderful, the best secret.” He was smiling so hard his jaws ached. Rather than use words to admit to Hugh that he, too, was a shifter, Ethan made the transformation before Hugh’s eyes.
In a moment, two timber-wolves stood beside the car, one tall and solid, powerfully built in the shoulder and the back, and the other leaner, lighter, more fleet-footed.
They yipped and circled each other, every motion joyous. Then they ran towards the trees, bodies stretched in a run that was free and alive, muscles stretching.
In the woods they ran to each other. Hugh's mouth met playfully around Ethan's shoulder, a bite full of tenderness and pulsing longing.
They paused a moment, and Ethan moved back, striking a playful stance. They raced around the trees, and then stopped and looked at each other, desire and longing etched in every line of them.
Hugh circled around Ethan and stopped behind him, sniffing his scent and salivating with animal lust. He mounted quickly, entering Ethan—the same as before, only better. As the knot formed, the longing and wonder built while aching, grinding, pulsing thrusts hammered into each other with voracious speed. Hugh bit Ethan’s shoulder, nearly drawing blood, and panted desperately into his ear, the sounds of carnal frenzy filling the woods. A guttural howl escaped both wolves as Hugh released inside of Ethan, filling him to the brim.
Afterwards, when they were both sated, they rolled over and lay awhile.
It was late when they walked back to the car, the night cool and silent around them.
I cannot believe how wonderful that was, was Ethan's drowsy wonder as he slid into the seat and they began the drive to Hugh's, where more passion awaited them, then supper, and finally, sleep.
***
Thursday morning. Ethan was out of bed and down the front path, carrying the bin-bags to the driveway. Even something so mundane could not quell the delight he felt, lifting in his heart.
“Morning.” He grinned, as the postman drove up. The man put some letters in the post box, and left, his motorcycle leaving calm and the scent of petrol and burning oil in the street behind.
Ethan shook his head and stretched, then walked to the post box. No reason not to check it now.
He reached in and felt around. There were four envelopes, a rolled-up advertisement and a sheet of paper—a menu for the local takeaway. And, further back, something else. A scrap of notepaper, folded over and in an unsealed envelope.
Ethan drew it out and read it. He knew what it was before he saw the script scrawled there in felt-tip and black ink.
Ethan. I know you're here. I watch you. You know what I want. Don't even think of keeping him away from me. I won't stop at anything. I want him. I want you back. I am warning you.
Ethan rolled the paper up in his fist, squeezing it as if he could stifle the words by crumpling the paper away.
No. I won't let this get to me. He won't really do anything. I'm safe here.
Ethan tried to calm down, fighting the waves of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He felt his legs weaken, and sat down at the door, breathing through his nostrils.
I am safe here. I can put an extra bolt on the door. Change the lock. Put bars on the back window. There are things I can do. He can't hurt me. He can't hurt him.
He felt the nausea settle as he breathed in again.
Back inside, he washed his face, showered and dressed. Ate some breakfast. By eight o' clock he was in his car, feeling better. He drove to work.
At the office, he worked hard. Anything to forget the note. He did some of Aubrey's work too, helping her to fill out some forms. He offered to drive the office printer to the repair shop when it broke. Did preparation for next week. Anything, not to think about the threatening words he had read.
At six o' clock, he left the office. Ms. Bromley had already gone. Jonas Greenaway passed him on the way to the front door and looked surprised.
“You're working late.”
“Things to do.” Ethan nodded, looking at his shoes.
“Good. Great way to start.” Jonas grinned at him and nodded briskly. “Keep it up, but don't sweat it too much.”
“Thanks.” Ethan nodded.
He let himself out of the front door, heart pounding.
At home that evening, he bolted the front door. Drew the curtains. Put his phone in easy reach of the bed, the number for the police on automatic dialling.
This is silly, he thought as he slid into bed.
Still, he wasn't taking any chances.
It took hours for him to finally fall asleep. As he did so, his mind asked the question he had been avoiding. Should I tell someone?
He slept with the thought unaddressed, his mind firmly shut on that issue.
The next morning, Ethan was in his office by eight thirty-five. Everyone who drifted past noticed the sound of typing, the activity, the grey pallor of his skin.
By ten, Aubrey put her head around the door, to check if he was well.
“You look wrecked.”
“I'm fine.” Ethan did not look up, typing furiously.
“You want coffee?”
“No. I'm okay.” He nodded. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” Aubrey nodded, and went back to her office across the way, looking bewildered.
At lunch time, Ethan stayed in his office. He had not stopped working all morning. He looked up at 1:50, and ran a hand through his hair. The window opposite reflected himself back, a worried, stressed image of himself, drawn and pale with dark circles under his eyes.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
Ten minutes later a voice startled him out of the half-sleep that had claimed his consciousness.
“Ethan?”
The voice tingled along his spine; full of concern and tenderness.
“Hugh.” he opened his eyes. Hugh came and sat across from him, swinging the extra chair round so that he faced him, knees touching. He had, Ethan noted, prudently shut the door behind him. They were alone.
“Ethan.” Hugh repeated. He reached out and took one of the hands where Ethan gripped his knees, his whole posture an image of tension and inner pain.
The touch made something relax in Ethan and he breathed out, head bending forward so his chin rested near his chest. He looked up. His grey eyes looked into Hugh's, weariness and worry etched in their corners.
“I'm worried about you.” His finger stroked along Ethan's arm, leaving traces of warmth in its wake. “You're not acting like yourself at the moment.”
“I'm being too hard-working?” Ethan grinned.
Hugh smiled. “You know that's not it.”
They sat for a moment.
“Something's bothering you. What?” Hugh asked. “You can tell me.”
Ethan felt his heart ache. I would love to tell you. I wish I could tell you. I can't. What would you think of me then?
“It's...nothing. Really. Just stress.”
“Stress?” Hugh widened his eyes. “I'll have to do something about that.”
Ethan smiled. It lifted the weariness, briefly. “You can't. Really. I'll just have to work harder, is all.”
“Nonsense.” The word was cheerful. “I'll give you a day off. How's that?”
Ethan felt his heart ache. “No. Really. It's better if you don't.” He swallowed. “Working makes me feel better. Honest.”
Hugh blinked and smiled. “Funny stress, you have. Holidays make mine disappear.”
Ethan smiled back, a watery grin. He wanted to kiss him.
“You are a dear,” he said instead, with feeling.
“No, I'm not.” Hugh smiled, and kissed him. “You might be, but I'm not. I'm your horrid boss and I make you work too much.”
Ethan shook his head and smiled. Kissed him and was kissed. Held him and was held.
Celestial Seductions: The Complete Series: An MM Gay Paranormal Mpreg Romance Collection Page 22