by Jane Davitt
Or change, rewrite. Make right. Because it wasn’t right that that little girl would die like that, and now she wouldn’t.
“And she’s safe. You saved her.” John shivered, reaching out to pull Nick to him in a hard, clumsy hug. “God, Nick. I can’t…if we hadn’t been here; if we’d stayed in our room, hell, if we hadn’t had that race to the raft…I can’t get my head around it all sometimes.”
“I know.” Nick pressed his temple to John’s cheek and held onto him. “It’s…it’s happening all around us, all the time, and there are people I could save but I don’t, because I don’t know that ‑‑ “ John murmured to him soothingly and he stopped; it was the kind of thought process that went nowhere, because there was no way he could save everyone. Worse, he wasn’t sure he’d have wanted to even if he could.
Around them, people were packing their things and heading out toward the road, but he and John stayed where they were for another few minutes. A woman walking past caught Nick’s eye and smiled, and that easy acceptance gave him the strength to straighten up.
“I hate that it can happen like that,” he said softly. “So unexpected, you know? Just out of nowhere.”
John nodded. Nick supposed John had got used to the way Nick didn’t, if he could help it, touch strangers; it had become automatic for him to be careful handing over money, or accepting change, a habit to walk through crowds keeping himself apart. It was one reason he liked living on quiet, sparsely populated Traighshee.
“But you saved her. Whatever you saw ‑‑ it’s gone now. Like a dream.” John turned to look at the ocean, where the waves were starting to show white caps now and turn gray under the darkening sky. “She wouldn’t have stood a chance out there, and more people might have died trying to save her. You stopped that.” He glanced back at Nick and gave him a small smile. The first drops of rain began to fall, warm, full splashes, striking the umbrella and Nick’s outstretched legs. “Come on, then, before we get wet.”
“We are wet,” Nick pointed out.
“That’s different.” John stood up and began to take down the umbrella. “Grab the towels, will you?”
Nick did, and they trotted back toward the hotel, turning in the umbrella at the small rental shop and going back up to their room, toweling their hair dry while they waited in the elevator. The rain was falling steadily outside by the time they shut their door, and Nick went over to open the curtains so they could see it. His swim trunks were sticking damply to his legs, so he stripped them off and turned to see John doing the same, the sight of his pale skin making Nick almost weak with arousal. “God, I love looking at you.”
John’s gaze traveled over him, appreciative enough to leave Nick’s skin heating, tingling, as if he’d been touched. “I could say the same. You’re just…Christ, you’re hot, Nick. And there’s more to the way I feel than that, and you know it, but sometimes that’s enough.” He walked over to Nick and drew the curtain closed again, the stiff, thick material brushing Nick’s back. “I wanted you out there. I was aching with it and it hadn’t been that long, but it didn’t matter. And I want you again now, with the smell and the taste of the sea on you.” He slid to his knees, nuzzling his face into Nick’s stomach and turning his head to run his tongue across the head of Nick’s cock, moaning as Nick’s hips jerked forward instinctively, forcing John’s lips to open for him. “God, yes…”
The heat of John’s mouth on Nick’s chilled skin was startling; he stroked his hand over John’s head and blinked slowly, eyelids at halfmast as he watched John’s lips slide over his shaft. His knees were wobbly, his chest tight. “Fuck,” he said shakily. “Christ. John.” John glanced up at him, then slid one hand up Nick’s inner thigh and the other up around the back to his ass, kneading it. Nick’s cock throbbed and filled, damp with John’s saliva as John’s pink tongue slicked across the head of it.
John murmured something, not words, just sensation, a thrum and hum across skin that felt thin, stretched, hot now, and his tongue stroked and licked lower, curling around the tight weight of Nick’s balls, tasting and exploring.
Nick could feel the tension in the tops of his feet, the backs of his calves, his forearms. He was moaning now, little moans that slipped out with each warm lick of John’s tongue. He ached deep inside; needed to feel John push into him, stretching him, making him gasp and cry out and come and then putting him back together afterwards with kisses and soft words and reassurances. There were never enough reassurances as far as Nick was concerned ‑‑ he could listen to John tell him that he was gorgeous and wonderful and loved until the end of time and would always want more.
There were tears in his eyes; he tilted his head back and took a shuddering breath, looked at the ceiling. “I love you,” he whispered.
John rocked back on his heels and stood, his arms going around Nick, giving him somewhere safe, somewhere certain to be. “I love you, too.” He felt John’s fingers brush at the few tears that had spilled down, wiping them away, then John’s hand slipped into his and John drew him over to the bed.
It felt good to stretch out on the cool sheets with John kneeling beside him, smiling down at him. His body was quivering, energized by what he’d done on the beach and what John was doing to him now, long, slow caresses, with John’s mouth following the path his hands were taking,
“Turn over,” John said, rolling Nick to his front and straddling him. “I want ‑‑ God, I want you. All of you ‑‑” His mouth was on the back of Nick’s neck, biting and sucking at the skin as Nick shuddered and squirmed. “So hard ‑‑ God, you’ve got me so hard…. Feel me…”
Nick spread his legs wider, arching his back, feeling wanton and not caring, as John’s cock, thick and full, nudged between his legs, riding the crease of his ass.
“Oh God, just fuck me.” Nick writhed underneath John, trying to get the other man into position, not caring at all if there was lube because he needed to feel John inside him. “Please. Please…”
John grabbed Nick’s hip and steadied him, kissing his shoulder. “Shh, love.” He stretched, reaching for the massage oil on the bedside table, and a moment later slick fingers were pushing into Nick, making him groan. He would have begged John for more as soon as he’d caught his breath, but John knew him so well ‑‑ knew that waiting wasn’t something he could do right then ‑‑ and fingers were almost immediately replaced with cock, hard as it slid into him.
“You feel…Nick…” John’s breath caught and Nick felt John’s hands tighten on his hips as John completed that smooth push inside him. “I want you.”
Nick nodded, his breath rough and harsh in a mouth dry with longing. John had him. All of him. He rocked his hips in an agony of need, fucking himself on John’s cock, easing back and forward, only willing to lose a few inches, even if getting them back sent a delicious shiver through him. John let him, holding still, and then moaned, sounding as desperate as Nick. “Oh, you’ve got to…I want to…Nick ‑‑”
“Whatever you want.” Nick meant it. Right then he would have given John anything, no matter what the cost. “God, just…” With enormous effort, he forced himself to stop moving. “Fuck me.”
“Plan to.” John’s teeth were gritted by the sound of it. “But you don’t have to stay still. Together, aye?”
Nick didn’t get a chance to answer; didn’t need to. John plunged into him, over and over, deep, solid thrusts that filled him, gave him what he needed right then the way he needed air. There’d been times with Matthew when this had felt like an invasion, left him feeling a little empty afterwards, a little used, but never with John. It was a joining, a fusion of their bodies that left him closer to the man he’d fallen in love with so easily and at such a cost to them both.
He hitched himself up onto his elbows and knees, eyes screwed tightly shut as he pushed back to meet John’s thrusts. “Don’t stop,” he begged, even as John’s hand closed around his erection and stroked it roughly; he knew he wouldn’t last, not like this, but he still wanted it
to go on as long as possible. There were times he’d thought he’d never have someone like John, that his life with Matthew had been all he’d ever know, and he hadn’t even realized what he’d been missing until he’d stepped into John’s life and discovered that it was everything he’d ever wanted.
Hard, perfectly timed strokes coupled with the relentless slam of John’s cock into him…he loved that when he needed this from John ‑‑ or wanted to give it ‑‑ it was his for the asking. With his body still in shock from the vision, still humming, itching, he needed to be overwhelmed with sensations he’d asked for, not been forced to endure. At times like this he wanted John’s love expressed through strength, wanted John’s hands to leave marks he could see, however fast they faded, wanted to hear John’s voice, deep and musical, crack and falter as he cried out his name.
“God, yes.” He had to say something, because it was so good, so good that he couldn’t even hold himself up anymore; he collapsed forward, forehead pressed to the mattress and his ass still up in the air as John fucked him. Each thrust forced a little moan from him, because John’s hand on his erection was perfect. John knew just how to touch him, and John’s fingers riding the ridge just under the head of his cock, John’s thumb slicking across the tip ‑‑ it was too much. Nick was coming, crying out as the pleasure tore all the way up into his gut. “God,” he muttered. “John. God. John.”
“Nick!” He wished he could see John and the look on his face, but he didn’t really need to; it was all there in that single word, passion and love and need, tumbled together. He rode out the final blur of thrusts as John reached his own climax, the heat of it spreading through him, and then let himself collapse face down on the bed, John covering him, warm and heavy and there.
For a long time neither of them moved, waiting for breathing to return to normal. Nick liked things the way they were, anyway; it was comforting, reassuring to have John’s solid weight on him, and he almost would have liked to fall asleep like that, but he wasn’t really sleepy enough to do that no matter how comfortable he was. “We should move.”
“Mm,” John murmured, not moving either.
“Soon.”
“Mm?” John jerked suddenly as if he’d been jolted awake. “Am I squashing you, then? You should’ve said…” He slid off, rocking the bed slightly, and lay beside Nick, his arm immediately coming to rest across Nick’s shoulders. “Better, love?”
Nick snuggled closer, not that there was really all that much closer to get. “I didn’t mean soon as in now, I meant soon as in eventually.” He licked John’s throat, tasting his faintly salty skin, and sighed with contentment. “You aren’t that heavy, you know.”
“If I keep eating key lime pie for dessert that might change.” John’s hand smoothed down Nick’s back in a slow sweep. “You’re just so…” He shook his head, his lips finding the pulse at Nick’s temple and kissing it. “You look at me and I can’t think, you know that? It’s like you’re all there is, all I can see. It’s never been like this with anyone. Never close.”
“I never thought I’d have anything like this.” Nick felt exposed in ways that had nothing to do with nudity, but he wanted John to hear this. “After Matthew died ‑‑ hell, even before ‑‑ I thought there was something about me that prevented me from being really close to anyone. You know I went to Traighshee thinking I’d live out the rest of my life there, alone. I never thought, not even once, that I’d meet someone who’d understand me the way you do.” He stroked a hand over John’s hip absently. “Someone who’d love me. I go around all the time with this feeling, like…like my heart in my throat, maybe ‑‑ because it’s so incredible to think this might be real.”
“Aye…” John kissed him, a light brush of the lips, no more, and then another, deeper, softer. “Well, it’s real, love, I promise you that.” There was a glint of amusement in John’s eyes now, chasing away the emotion that was becoming just a little too intense for Nick to handle. “And us needing another shower is real, too, so I hope they got around to giving us new towels.” He gave Nick’s ass a pat with enough sting in it to have Nick mouthing a reproachful “ow” at him and then rolled off the bed.
The combined exertion of their swim and the sex, followed by a warm shower, was enough to have Nick’s eyes closing. He barely remembered the end of the shower; he was vaguely aware of John helping to towel him dry, and then of a pillow against his cheek.
Chapter Fourteen
The insistent ringing of the telephone woke him from a deep, dreamless sleep; he fumbled a hand for the receiver and knocked it onto the floor. “Shit,” he said, leaning over the bed and grabbing it. “Yeah. Um. Hello.”
An unrecognizable voice on the other end of the line said, “Well, hello to you, too. Charming phone manner you have there, Nick.” Slowly, Nick’s brain provided the information that it was Greg Duncan.
“Hi. Sorry. I was asleep.” Nick sat up, glancing at John, who didn’t seem to have been disturbed by the ringing of the phone or his voice. He moved over to the other bed.
“Asleep?” He could hear Greg processing that and managed to focus on the clock beside the bed. Just after six. Okay, most people were awake at six in the evening…“Well, I’m sorry to have woken you.”
“No problem. I’ve got somewhere I need to be later, so it’s just as well.”
He could sense the stirring of interest at the other end of the line as clearly as if Greg was in front of him, gray eyes sharpening.
“Somewhere to be?”
“Personal business,” Nick said flatly.
“You know, you could be a little friendlier when I’m calling to tell you I got what you wanted,” Greg said, the reproach in his voice laid on a little too thickly to be genuine. Nick imagined a reporter grew a pretty tough skin.
Still, that didn’t mean he was wrong. “Sorry. It’s just been kind of a long couple of days, you know?”
“Yeah.” Now Greg did sound sympathetic, and it made Nick like him, just a little bit. “Do you have a pen? I’ve got that information on the kid you asked me about.”
“Uh-huh, hang on, just a second.” He found a pen and paper. “Okay, go ahead.” He wrote it down ‑‑ Joshua Denbrough, adopted by his mother’s new husband, William, address, phone number.
“Is that what you wanted?”
“That’s great, yes. Thank you.” What he was going to do with it, he didn’t know yet. Having a way to get in touch with his brother was freaking him out; the thought of actually doing it was even worse.
Greg’s voice became ultra casual. “You know, if you wanted to pay me back…we never did really finish that interview. I got some information from you, but not much. And what I’d really like is to see you in action. Any chance of that, do you think?”
“I don’t know.” There were too many factors. “Give me a second to think, okay?” Nick considered everything ‑‑ he didn’t know how things would go tonight, trying to use Melissa’s tea for the first time. But maybe it would be better for John if there was someone else there? On the other hand, John didn’t like Greg. “Let me talk to my partner and I’ll get back to you. I think we can work something out, but I don’t want to say yes without asking him.”
“He doesn’t like me, does he?” Greg sounded a little bit amused. “No, no, that’s okay. I probably wouldn’t like me, either, if our positions were reversed. You know how to get in touch with me ‑‑ give me a call when you figure it out.”
They said their goodbyes and Nick hung up the phone quietly, then moved over to the bed where John was still sleeping.
“John?” He stroked his hand over John’s hair gently.
The soft grumble John gave, twitching away from Nick’s hand and burrowing his head deeper into his pillow, made Nick smile, but a second touch, this time a small shake of John’s shoulder, had John waking up.
“Nick?” John yawned widely and blinked his eyes open. “Did you say something? Thought I…ohhh…” He yawned again and then sat up. He had a kna
ck Nick envied of waking up and being alert a moment later; Nick was more of a slow starter in the morning. “Did the phone ring?”
“Yeah. Greg Duncan had some information for me. About Josh.” Nick shifted, rested a hand on John’s leg. “I thought, if I wanted to get in touch with him…well, probably his mother, actually. He’s just a kid. I don’t know. Maybe I won’t want to.”
“You will,” John said with more certainty than Nick felt. “He’s family; how can you not?” He raised his hand to cup Nick’s face. “And I’m glad the man found out for you; saves us doing it, with all we’ve got on our plate.” He patted Nick’s face and then raised his arms over his head, stretching and giving a third and final yawn.
“Too much,” Nick agreed, then started to worry. “Is it? I know you weren’t counting on all of this when you said you’d come with me…”
John gave him a baffled look. “Well, I didn’t expect you to discover long-lost family members, no, but I wasn’t expecting it to be fun, Nick. We came here because your father died; this isn’t a holiday, for all I’m making the most of the scenery.” He sighed, pushing the covers back and giving Nick a quick hug. “You might be the first man I’ve been with for longer than a night, but I loved Michael for years and there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done if he’d needed me. How can you not think the same applies to you?”
“I know. I know it does.” On the surface Nick couldn’t help but worry, but deep down he knew that John was as steadfast and loyal as anyone he’d ever meet. “I’m just being, I don’t know. I’m thinking too much, maybe. Do you want to go have dinner in the restaurant next door? That Mexican place?”
“Mexican?” John said doubtfully. “Will it be a wee bit spicy, do you think? Stella did one of those theme nights of her at the restaurant; ‘South of the Border’ or something like that, and I’ve never seen so many people begging for water after two mouthfuls of the chili she’d made.” He looked thoughtful. “She sold a lot of beer, too.”