by Willa Okati
“And yet I did it anyway,” Raleigh said, the corner of his mouth lifting. Hopeful. That was the look. Hopeful but wary as hell. Shawn knew that look. Saw it in the mirror almost every time he had chance to catch his own reflection.
He drew his tongue across his lips quick, to moisten them, and watched Raleigh follow the motion. Saw Raleigh’s throat work in a rough swallow, and his chest move as he took a deep breath. He wore fitted jeans, just like always, and with him standing in profile to Shawn, they didn’t let him keep any secrets. Not that he would have wanted to, Shawn thought. Wouldn’t have been his way.
“All right?” Raleigh asked again.
He would have let Shawn say no. Even now. Otherwise he wouldn’t have asked.
Shawn shut his eyes, just for a breath, then opened them to watch Raleigh as—with arms still crossed—he took hold of the ragged hem of his sweater in both hands and drew it up over his head. The bedroom wasn’t heated, and at the kiss of cold air on bare skin he felt himself shiver and his nipples furl up tight as knots. The elastic band Raleigh had secured his hair with popped under the friction of the collar coming over his head, and the static electricity made the strands cling to his forehead and cheeks. He saw Raleigh through a cloud of dark brown shot through with cinnamon, and—
Raleigh stared at him as if he were something worth staring at. “Shawn,” he said, barely audible, already reaching out as if to touch, though standing where he was, he couldn’t have reached. He dropped that hand and pressed the heel against the rigid line of his cock. “Oh, Shawn.”
Shawn had to stop then. Catch himself by the short leash. Keep going. He slid the end of his belt through the fastening, careful not to let the jeans fall off his hips. Maybe they couldn’t have, not as hard as he was. He’d never let himself come after one of the episodes left him stiff and wanting, and it’d been… He couldn’t remember how long it’d been. He didn’t look down but watched Raleigh watch him ease the zipper out of the way, and the briefs, and then let them slide down to his feet. He took himself in hand and squeezed, the way Raleigh had, just one taste to take the edge off.
And then he stood still. Raleigh’s turn. If he’d take it.
He wasn’t sure, at first, that Raleigh would. He’d barely breathed since Shawn opened his belt, and he’d gone pale as milk beneath the honey gold of his tan.
But he was wrong. Raleigh took one step forward, and then another, arm outstretched and fingers spread wide. Still dressed, though he’d left his sheepskin coat who knew where, and dripping with rain, but it didn’t take anything away from him. He caught a raindrop that ran down his face with the tip of his tongue, bringing a waking memory of a man who’d—who’d washed himself with a sponge, Shawn remembered, a sponge and warm water and kisses by firelight.
A small moan slipped through Shawn’s lips, spider-silk faint on the air.
Guess that was the last Raleigh could take. He brought them together, wet winter clothes and hot summer skin, a hand at Shawn’s hip and one at his nape, pressing them so close that in the first shock of sensation Shawn half thought he’d slipped inside Raleigh’s bones. His kiss stole Shawn’s air and his balance and the slide of his hands; the way Raleigh kneaded at his aching muscles made them spark with shocks of pain and life.
Shawn wanted more.
Though he wasn’t sure how, his body knew the way. He moved one leg, wrapping it around Raleigh’s, using him for leverage to press up, and harder. The way Raleigh shuddered and bucked against him made the effort so much more than worth the risk. Even if the chafe of wet denim made Shawn grit his teeth, he would have done it again for the sake of Raleigh’s mouth at his neck, hot sharp kisses that made him stifle a groan in Raleigh’s shoulder. Though he’d meant for it to be Raleigh’s turn, it was Shawn who wrestled the dark sweater over his head, then fumbled with Raleigh’s newer, stiffer belt and buttons. Raleigh groaned as he thrust into Shawn’s palm. God, but it was tempting to stay there, letting Raleigh bend over and around him, hard flesh in his hand, but—
More. The jeans finally gave way, fitted far too well to slide, but they could be coaxed down if Shawn went with them. And he did. Down to one knee, braced against Raleigh, mouth open and tongue cupped to take the fat head of the man’s dick between his lips and suckle.
“Jesus—” Raleigh panted. He fumbled for something to hold on to, so Shawn gave the man his shoulder and didn’t let either of them stop.
Raleigh’s taste… Clean skin, fresh sweat, crinkled gold hairs tickling his lips. He took more into his mouth, hands at Raleigh’s hips to keep them still, and lavished all the clumsy care he could with his tongue. Kneaded Raleigh’s thighs, begging him to go harder, deeper.
“Stop,” Raleigh said too soon. He took Shawn by the upper arm and jostled him. “God, stop. Shawn. Look at me.”
Shawn couldn’t do anything but. He wiped a trickle of saliva from his chin and dropped back on his heels to look up through the tangles of his hair, clinging now with a fine film of effort on his skin. Fuck. So pretty. Raleigh’s chest was flushed ruby pink from his collarbone spreading down to his navel, a crisp thatch of dark blond hair not hiding the color. His lips were parted wide, strung open, and his eyes dark with shock and lust. Shawn’s cock, neglected too long, dripped beads of precum at the sight, and he had to take himself in hand for a rough squeeze to hold himself back.
“Shawn,” Raleigh said in a rough whisper. He put two fingers beneath Shawn’s chin and made him raise his head higher.
Some small devil of mischief made Shawn reach forward to lick across the head of Raleigh’s cock. Or maybe that was all on him.
Raleigh laughed, quiet and startled, then proud and pleased. “Just like I remember,” he said, thumbing a drop of liquid away from the bow of Shawn’s upper lip. “Get on the bed, Shawn. The way you want to. I’ll follow your lead.”
Shawn—wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t matter. God, it didn’t. Because he did want that, more than anything, and though his knees were rubber, that didn’t make a difference either. He had enough wherewithal to boost himself up and onto the bed, on top of the sheets that smelled of sunshine and hot seashores, and if he collapsed on his back then, that was all right, because after digging frustrated-fast in the pocket of his discarded jeans, Raleigh followed him all in a rush. Laid himself down on top of Shawn, braced by his arms, and took him in a kiss that left him dazed as if he’d spent an hour dreaming.
A condom, the wrapper still shiny new, dropped on the pillow next to Shawn’s head. If he’d turned his face, he could have licked Raleigh’s fingertip as it tapped on the packet with a crinkling sound. “All right?” Raleigh asked again.
“Shut up,” Shawn growled, wrapping his arms around the man’s broad shoulders and dragging him down.
He dug in with his nails when Raleigh did as he’d been told—for once—and buried his face against Shawn’s chest. Not just for kissing but to take a nipple between his teeth and bite. He was the one, then, to press a palm to Shawn’s mouth to keep him hushed when the tendons in Shawn’s neck tightened near to the point of breaking.
Raleigh nuzzled the spot he’d bitten, and laved it with his tongue. His cock pressed tight against Shawn’s stomach, both their shafts sliding together. Shawn batted his hand away when he would have taken them both together in one palm and— He couldn’t even think about that. His abdominal muscles flexed in a protesting jerk when he pushed back.
“Tell me you have something slick,” Raleigh said, rough at Shawn’s ear. “Anything.”
At first Shawn’s heart sank, because he sure as hell didn’t keep even lotion by the bed where he always slept lightly, listening for Gabrielle to wake up in the middle of the night and need looking after, but when he reached out in vain hope, his fingertips collided with a jar of hand balm. Gabrielle must have bought it for him with part of the money she’d found, since his hands had begun to dry and crack from so much digging in the dirt. A sob rasped through his lips, but he shook his head when Ra
leigh would have asked, and thrust the jar at him with force enough to leave a bruise over his ribs.
Raleigh groaned but didn’t complain. He unscrewed the jar with one hand, the other busy holding Shawn’s head up for kissing ever deeper, ever harder. The smell of bees—honey and wax and something wild—burst from the jar as the cap came off.
One hand came beneath Shawn, coaxing his legs apart. He let them go willingly, and more than that. Raised his knees to lock around Raleigh’s hips, his heels at the backs of Raleigh’s thighs, pulling him nearly too tight to maneuver but near enough to bring Raleigh’s cock into the cleft of his ass and rub at him there.
“Shawn, Shawn,” Raleigh protested, laughing when he wasn’t hissing and driving his forehead at Shawn’s shoulder. “I’m here. Not going anywhere. Just let me…”
The scent of the creamy balm, summer sweet, filled Shawn’s nose as Raleigh slid two fingers inside him, then three, strong but gentle as he worked Shawn open. And it was— He’d thought it would sting, burn, that it’d been too long—and it did, but he didn’t care. The sharp ache made his cock twitch and fill harder still, made him rut up against Raleigh’s stomach.
Raleigh knew what he was doing, and Shawn gritted his teeth as the man curled those fingers inside him to stroke up hard, just at the place where roughness turned transformative and sent electric shocks through him that made his toes curl into knots. Three wasn’t enough. Shawn reached for the condom, blind, and somehow managed to tear the wrapper open and shake the rubber out. “Lift up,” he said, taking Raleigh in a hand that shook. “Let me too.”
He dug his nails into Raleigh’s back and dragged them down the length of Raleigh’s spine, a double stripe, as Raleigh slid in. Wasn’t easy. Had to go slow, so slow, fighting every inch for not enough and too much, but when he was in—God. Shawn dragged in air over his dry lips and swallowed it down in greedy gulps. Raleigh too, his chest crushing Shawn’s in the struggle for breath.
But he didn’t ask if this was all right. Didn’t need to. He fitted his mouth to Shawn’s and bit his lip and began to move.
Shawn’s back bowed up, driving his cock against Raleigh’s stomach, and let go of his back to take two fistfuls of the old sheets in a sweat-slicked tangle. His eyes were shut, and his legs locked in a twist around Raleigh’s. The bed creaked in protest, a rusty counterpoint, and the headboard thumped the wall in a slow, steady drumbeat that followed the pounding rain on the roof when the skies let loose.
“Raleigh,” he said, desperate for—something—but he couldn’t let go of the sheets long enough to take himself in hand. “Raleigh, ahh, ahh…”
Raleigh pressed his mouth to Shawn’s, no finesse, all clumsy drags and hot scrapes. “Shh, Shawn, shh.” Though he wasn’t quiet either. The drumbeat on the wall became harsh, staccato, no longer low enough for the rain to hide, but Shawn didn’t care, oh, he didn’t care. He worked one hand loose to wrap around his cock.
“Shawn,” Raleigh said again, his name a prayer on the man’s lips as he pulled out—but wasn’t gone for long. He knelt, cock jutting up, and drew Shawn up to straddle his lap. The bed thudded against the floor as he thrust, shallow-deep-shallow, but not so loud and not so long. “Shawn, Shawn…” His breath caught, his shoulders locked, and his thighs strained tight as cords. His arm around Shawn’s waist was too tight—it hurt—but not enough. Still not enough.
But he knew it. He slid out and pushed them both back the way they’d come, not stopping until Shawn lay on his back and Raleigh could slide down his struggling limbs to take Shawn’s cock in his mouth, deep—
Shawn bit the back of his arm when he came. Would have shouted otherwise, a yell that razed his throat raw, and even swallowing the sound was like taking a bite out of the sun. His hips jerked, wanting to fuck Raleigh’s throat through it, and Raleigh took it. Held him there, an arm across his stomach, and swallowed Shawn down to the very last drop he had to give.
And Shawn let go.
Silence. Nothing but first the sound of ragged breathing and then the sharp, brisk rain that thudded against the pane of the bedroom window. Shawn’s ears roared with the rise and fall of blood thundering in them, like putting a shell next to his head and listening for the ocean. Raleigh had dropped with his head on Shawn’s chest when Shawn was too gone to notice. He’d thrust his fingers through Raleigh’s hair, soaked with sweat, the tips prickling half-dry.
Shawn swallowed what he thought might have been a sob. “Raleigh?” he asked, sounding as if he’d shouted after all. “I still don’t believe you.”
Because he didn’t. Even if he might have wanted to. And he didn’t fool himself—now—that this what that’d all been about.
Raleigh didn’t look up at him. His shoulders curved in and would have bowed if he’d been standing, but he only laid his hand on Shawn’s stomach and stroked light as will-o’-the-wisps dancing over his skin. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t think you would.”
“You hoped.”
“I didn’t count on it. I just wanted you.” Raleigh raised his head then, catching Shawn in the blue of his eyes and the black of his pupils that nearly drowned the color out. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Shawn’s jaw wouldn’t move, locking in the things he had no idea how to say. All he could do was shake his head and know that whatever he looked like, it wasn’t glad, and it wasn’t trustful.
Raleigh sighed. He kissed Shawn’s shoulder with the air of someone who wasn’t giving up but only tabling the discussion for later. Because Raleigh was someone who would never, ever say die. Not if he had a hope in hell. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “You’re a good man, Shawn.”
Protest made his lungs feel bruised with the punch of it. “I’m not.” He made to lift his hand away from Raleigh’s hair.
Raleigh wouldn’t let him. Captured his hand and held it there and bumped his head against Shawn’s palm like a cat demanding its proper due. A wildcat, with strength enough to take a man down at the knees. “You are a good man. You’re loving. Loyal. You take care of your sister like— I don’t know anyone else who would do that, Shawn. You don’t take any shit. When I tease, you give as good as you get. And you’re tough. Tough as nails, except for that walking wound where your heart should be. But if you let me, I can fix that.”
He sat up, and Shawn couldn’t help but follow him.
“I love you for who you were,” Raleigh Carter said, steady as a rock and so tempting to believe. “But I like the hell out of you for who you are.”
Shawn shoved the back of his hand against his mouth and shook his head.
“But I do.” Raleigh took Shawn’s hand and kissed the knuckles. “Keep the book, Shawn. It’s all in there. Every answer to every question. Every life, and there have been so many. I’ve followed you for centuries, and you’ve always found me before this turn. Always made it happen. You. Me. No, shh, shh. Keep it. And read it—or don’t. Believe me, or decide I’m crazy. That’s all right. Just don’t shut me out again. Can you do that for me, Shawn? Will you?”
Chapter Eight
Raleigh Carter had known just what he was doing, leaving that book with him. Even after the kitchen door of the caretaker’s cottage swung almost silently shut behind him as he let himself out, Shawn lingered on the edge of the bed with the worn volume in one hand.
It was the damnedest thing, he thought. He couldn’t make himself open the covers, but neither could he make himself put the book aside.
It’s just a book.
True. But knowing that didn’t help. Shawn turned the slim volume over in his hands. He frowned to see that a smudge of fresh dirt from gardens he’d weeded marred its cover. When he tried to brush the soil off, it smeared into the leather. They’d never be separated again.
He ran the pads of his fingertips along the rough-cut edges of the paper inside. Nothing to it. Just paper. The spine had cracked in a couple of places. If he opened the covers, it’d likely fall open to certain points in the text, but he couldn’t tell wh
ether the breaks were new or old.
God, he smelled like sex. Shawn grimaced when he turned his head and caught a whiff of himself. Ripe as an old cheese. He hadn’t minded at the time, and he wasn’t bothered as such now—not for his own sake—but that’d make for a hell of an awkward conversation if Gabrielle wrinkled up her nose.
Better get clean, he decided.
He laid the book on his bed, a corner of a blanket tugged up to hide it from casual view—out of sight might be out of mind, who knew?—and shrugged into a T-shirt and jeans. The creaky old pipes in the cottage weren’t good for much more than flushing the toilet, and the racket they made would wake his sister, but he could run the taps long enough for a kettle of water that he heated on the kitchen range. When it was ready, just warm enough to take the edge off, he found a washcloth not embroidered with pink and blue flowers and carried the lot back to the bedroom and shut the door behind him. It moved more smoothly now, after Raleigh had shown it who was boss. Latch clicked home without a fuss.
Shawn knelt at the foot of the bed, next to where a fireplace had been before it was blocked off and replaced by a clanking radiator, for the warmth of it and to keep from spilling on the bed. He put a towel beneath his knees, and one over his lap, and called it good enough. Or—very good, he thought as he drew the warm, wet cloth over his chest. Beads of water didn’t grow cold as they rolled down his skin. Like kisses.
Shawn blinked.
His hand closed around the rough sponge he held. Water streamed between his fingers, pattering soft as rain back across his naked flesh and onto the floor.
His lover corrected him, moving the sponge back to his chest. “Careful. Don’t waste it.” He punctuated his words with tiny light nips, nibbling him as if he was a treat to savor bit by bit…by bit… “You never know when the rains will come again.”