by Jules Jones
“No. And I can’t afford to tell them to take a flying leap.”
“Not when you’re about to have a mortgage to feed,” Simon agreed. “But this is the one that’s only a couple of hours away and believes in ‘piss off early, tomorrow’s Saturday’, isn’t it?”
There was that one small consolation. The job was somewhere relatively convenient for both Simon’s place and his own flat, which meant he could spend at least one night a week at home and still get down here for weekends. “It’s even closer to here. I could get here for an evening if there was some emergency I had to deal with, although I wouldn’t like to commute every day.”
“Especially not if they’re paying for a local hotel, which I hope they are.”
He checked the email. “Yes. Although that may just mean that they expect me to work twelve-hour days.”
Simon patted him on the head. “Better warn your lads that you’re going to be in ‘lie back and think of England’ mode for the next few weeks, then.”
“You’re not helping.” But at least he would be able to see George and Patrick at weekends. The timing was inconvenient, but with a Monday start he had a few days to get things set up at the summerhouse before he had to leave them to their own devices.
Chapter Nineteen
They went shopping again, this time for some basic tools. It had to be basic; with no power supply to the house, they were limited in what they could use. Even cordless tools would have to go back to Simon’s house for recharging. The sooner they had mains power the better.
Martin realised that he was going to have to ask Mr Parker to handle a lot of the organisation; even if he paid for the electricity to be reconnected and a couple of new power points to be installed, someone was going to have to chase the power company to make sure it happened on schedule. After they’d loaded the stuff into the Land Rover, he phoned Mr Parker.
“All right. I’ll get the agent onto it. That’s the sort of thing I pay her for. The poles bringing the line in are already there, so they’ll only need to inspect it and perhaps string new cable.” There was a pause. “What about water? That could mean digging a new trench if the old pipe’s blocked.”
“That’s less urgent. I’ll take in a load of bottled water, and I posted a water sample off for testing this morning. If the spring water’s clean, there’ll be more than enough for drinking and a bucket of water down the loo a couple of times a day.”
“Your boys don’t have a van of their own?”
He looked over at the Land Rover, where he could see Patrick reading the manual and George watching him with tolerant amusement. “No, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they didn’t have driving licences. They’re clever, but they’re a bit unworldly, and I don’t think they deal well with paperwork. I have no doubt at all that they’d be able to drive the car in an emergency, but I wouldn’t like to bet on it being legal for them to do so.”
“Well, give them my phone number and the agent’s number, just in case they need something while they’re down there. They’ll have to walk to the nearest phone box if they’ve no way to charge a mobile phone, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Thanks.” It was a useful suggestion, and it had given him an idea. A cheap mobile phone could be handy if George and Patrick needed to get hold of him. He’d have to charge it for them at Simon’s at the weekends; but if they kept it switched off when they weren’t actually using it, the battery should easily last all week.
* * * * *
DIY books, tools, phone, more water and food, and fuel for the camp stove. And an inflatable mattress. Even if they chose not to sleep in the house, it would be useful to make it look as if they were. Though Patrick’s grin when he saw it suggested that he wasn’t thinking of sleeping on it.
The first thing they did was take the boards off the kitchen windows and back door and put some mastic over the nail holes. “We’ll strip the frames back and repaint them later, but we need to protect the wood until we can get around to doing that,” Martin explained as he demonstrated on the first window. They watched intently, then tried it for themselves.
Satisfied that they could handle the tools safely, he went to fetch a bucket of water from the spring. The water might not yet be passed as safe to drink, but it would do for washing the accumulated grime from the windows. They were going to need all the natural light they could get, and if the windows were obviously clean and being looked after, they’d be less likely to suffer from the attentions of vandals.
By the time they’d finished the kitchen windows, it was lunchtime. They sat outside to eat. Patrick had stripped off his tee-shirt and was grumbling about having to wear clothes at all on a hot day.
Martin thought he’d better discourage any thoughts about DIY in the nude. “I enjoy the view --” And he certainly did, because Patrick had a magnificent body, strong and well built without being over-muscled. “-- but clothes are a good idea. Even if we don’t have to worry that much about shocking the neighbours, someone could come past. And clothes provide protection for your sensitive bits, remember.” A concept they understood, since the first time he’d seen them wearing clothes for anything other than keeping warm on a cold day was when they were using them as workgear. “It’s not too bad at the moment, but you really don’t want to drop sharp things or chemicals on your skin.”
“And at least you don’t have to worry about sunburn,” George grumbled amiably.
Martin added sunscreen to his mental shopping list. George was obviously one of those blonds who tanned rather than burned, so long as he was careful, because his skin was a pale golden brown, a shade or two darker than his hair. But better safe than sorry.
He looked them over as they ate, enjoying the chance to just sit and watch them out here in the sunshine. The contrast in colouring was obvious even in the filtered light of their cave, but now it was striking. Patrick’s hair was a rich, deep brown, with eyes to match. George was a spectacular golden blond with vivid blue eyes. Even so, it was obvious that the two men were related. Not just by the shape of their faces, but their mannerisms, the way they walked. They were a good example of the way cousins could sometimes look more alike than siblings did.
They took their time over lunch, making it a proper break from work and not just time out to eat. As they relaxed afterwards, Patrick said, “Go and get the mattress, Martin.”
“There’s nowhere to put it yet. The kitchen floor’s still filthy.”
“Then we’ll just have to use it out here.”
Outside? “But ...”
“Do as you’re told. You may be shy, but we’re not.”
He could feel his muscles clenching with fear. This wasn’t just pushing his boundaries. This was something that could get them into serious trouble. “Patrick, this isn’t the naturist beach. We’re not that far from the public footpath along the coast, and it’s not clear this is private property. There’s no fence.”
George put an arm around him. “Listen. We locked the gate, so anyone coming in from the road is trespassing. And we’ll hear anyone coming up from the path.”
It didn’t reassure him. A straight couple might get away with it, maybe even a gay couple, but three men could find themselves with big problems. “It’s not just embarrassment, George. We could be arrested.”
“Will it help if we take turns with you, and the other one keeps watch?”
Yes. It would help a lot. The idea still worried him, but he might be able to enjoy himself instead of being too afraid of being caught. “I ... think I can manage.”
“If you really can’t, we’ll do something that doesn’t mean getting undressed. But we’d like you to try.” George hugged him, then let go. “Now go and get the mattress.”
He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself and then got up to get the mattress. As he walked over to the car, he could just hear George say in a low voice, “Make it quick, Patrick. He really is scared, and you’ll break his limits if you’re not careful.”
“I know. I jus
t didn’t think. Sorry.”
It reassured him, a little. They negotiated up front, and they understood that this might be a hard limit for him. If George said one of them would keep watch, they would. There would be no lies.
He found somewhere well behind the house and free of stones that might damage the mattress. It had a battery-powered pump, but rather than use any of their scarce stock of charged batteries, he’d brought the foot pump he kept in the Land Rover.
All he’d been thinking about was saving batteries, but George and Patrick watched as he stepped rhythmically on the pump, and he realised that there were other connotations. He was working for them; but it was real work, for a purpose, not just something ordered for the sake of giving orders. He liked that feeling.
The pump was efficient, chosen for trips to tyre-eating work sites in the back country, and made short work of inflating the mattress to a comfortable firmness. He tested the valve by sitting on the mattress and bouncing.
“That looks like fun!” Patrick said and joined him, sitting in the middle of the mattress and bouncing gleefully.
George just shook his head. “Did I mention he’s younger than me?”
He suspected that they were trying to calm him down, but didn’t care. Patrick’s pleasure was genuine enough. “Just don’t try to stand on it and jump up and down. It’s strong, but you’re a big lad, and that might be too much weight in a small area.”
“As long as it can take weight spread out over hands and knees, I don’t care.” Patrick grabbed at him, laughing as he did so. “This is fun. Come here.”
It was fun. He let Patrick manhandle him into the middle of the mattress and sprawl on him. Patrick’s weight pinning him down, Patrick’s cock digging into his belly -- these things helped numb his fear a little.
Patrick kissed him hard for a moment, then said, “You’ve got nice legs, and that pump shows them off. Wear shorts next time.”
He reached up and ran his hands through Patrick’s hair, enjoying the feel of it. “I’ll try to remember.” His own cock was starting to harden now.
“That’s better,” Patrick said. “We’d better get this done fast; we need to get back to work.” He slid a hand down to grope Martin’s cock through his jeans. “Like you said, the kitchen floor’s filthy, and we need to get it clean this afternoon if we want somewhere to sleep tonight.”
A convenient excuse, but he appreciated the gesture. “How do you want me?”
“I was going to suggest hands and knees, but that might be too much distraction for George if he’s going to play lookout.” Patrick bent and kissed the side of his neck. “And besides, I like the way the mattress moves when we’re in this position.”
It was rather nice. A little disconcerting to have it shift under them with each move they made, but pleasant. “Have we got condoms?”
Patrick smiled down at him. “Of course. George?”
“I’ll get them.”
Patrick sat up on his knees and started undoing Martin’s jeans. That brought back the fear again; he was about to be naked, and George was busy getting the condoms and lube from the bag rather than keeping lookout. He breathed deeply again, trying to control his fear, and Patrick paused, watching him.
Then George dropped the condoms and lube beside them and walked away, and Martin’s fear eased.
“All right?” Patrick asked.
He nodded, and Patrick quickly undid his jeans, then stood up. “Out of them.”
He sat up for a moment to pull off his shoes and then his jeans. Patrick was busy with his own jeans now, stripping to stand completely naked. He looked stunning, muscular body shown to perfection by the bright afternoon sun, cock hard and high.
Martin glanced at George. He was keeping his promise, watching either side of the house and not them. He could relax, happy that they wouldn’t be taken completely by surprise if anyone should chance to wander this way.
Patrick opened a condom and put it on, then quickly spread some lube on himself. “Enough?”
“Yes.” And he appreciated Patrick asking, instead of taking it for granted.
Patrick dropped back onto him, making the mattress bounce beneath them. They grinned at each other, and then he pulled up his legs, giving Patrick easy access.
Patrick pushed into him, one slow, controlled thrust that went all the way in without pause. It was almost too much for him without some preliminary stretching, but he managed to take it. Patrick held still, watching his reaction, then said, “If you can’t take it, say so now.”
Because once Patrick started in earnest, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “I’ll be all right.” Patrick’s cock was big, but the brief pause had given him time to get used to it. It was starting to feel good now.
“Right.” Patrick pulled halfway out and then thrust back in. The next thrust was harder, less controlled. And then Patrick lost it, and Martin knew why he’d been warned. Patrick hammered into him, pounding at him; pent-up desire now slipped its leash.
It was exhilarating, but there was no way he was going to come with Patrick. It didn’t matter, not when George was waiting to take his turn. He stroked Patrick’s back, murmured encouragement to him, and was not at all surprised when Patrick swore, held still, and came.
He held Patrick tightly, supported him until he stopped shaking. Then Patrick pulled out of him, kissed him lightly, and said, “Thanks, love. I really needed that.”
Before he could react to what Patrick had said, Patrick rolled off the mattress and stood up. “George.”
“Right.” George kicked off his shoes and trousers.
Martin watched as Patrick stripped his condom off, and George put one on. Patrick was watching the path around the house even as he reached for his clothes, taking their promise to him seriously. Then all Martin’s attention was taken up by George. The mattress bounced under George’s weight.
“He’s right; this is fun.”
George had left his tee-shirt on, so this time Martin had cloth rather than flesh under his hands. But it still felt good, heated by the sun and by George’s body.
“Just relax,” George said. “If you don’t come before I’m done, I’ll do you by hand. It’ll be the quickest way to look at least semi-respectable.”
He nodded, and George did the same controlled thrust trick as Patrick had. But George kept it up, giving him several more; and even when he went to a faster rhythm it was a deliberate choice rather than a loss of control. That did the trick for Martin, that deliberate, relentless stimulation, filling him up, making him understand that for these few minutes he was the most important thing in George’s universe. They bounced on the mattress with each thrust, but George used it, worked it into their rhythm. And then he knew that he would not need George’s hand afterwards. “George ...”
“I know.”
Harder, faster, and he came first. He cried out in spite of his desire to be quiet, to go unnoticed by anyone passing nearby. It was just too damned good, to be looking up at a beautiful blue sky and feel the warmth of the sun on his arms as George took him to the edge and deliberately pushed him over.
And before he was quite done, George clung to him, whispered his name, and came. They held each other for a long moment.
And then it was over, George sitting up and handing him his clothes.
They got dressed and then held each other again. “We’ll get this place finished,” George said. “Finished, with a fence and a garden, and then we’ll make love in our garden whenever we like.”
“It’s going to take us a while.”
“It’s going to be worth the wait,” Patrick said, hugging them both. “Now. One more cup of tea, and then we’d better go back to work.”
* * * * *
Now that they had some light to work with, they started with a basic sweeping and tidying. Martin and George went down to tackle the cellar, leaving Patrick with the kitchen.
Even with the door left open, they needed the torches, but having some daylight coming i
n was a great improvement on their first visit. Patrick and George had unlocked the quarry door that morning before leaving the cave, so they opened that one as well to get whatever light filtered through from the garden doorway.
The cellar floor followed the same plan as the ground floor, with a cellar room below each room above. They cleaned the floor of the kitchen cellar and dusted the cobwebs from the ceiling, leaving the room looking a lot less abandoned. The next question was what to do about the bottles of wine. If they were still drinkable, they were probably valuable.
He went upstairs and out into the garden to try his mobile phone. Once again Mr Parker answered the phone within a couple of rings. Martin gave a quick rundown of the work so far and added, “We’re going to use the cellar as a cool room for now. But there are still some bottles of wine down there, and I think some of them are probably valuable. They’re certainly old.”
“If they’re still drinkable, of course. They’ve been there since before we left -- the tenant was teetotal.”
“What do you want us to do with them?” They could leave them in situ, but he’d prefer not to be responsible for them if they were valuable. “I’ll need to get some boxes first, but I could bring them over to you.”
There was a pause, and then Mr Parker said, “No, my boy. If they’re not in your way, leave them resting where they are. Old wine doesn’t like being shaken about. Tell you what, when the kitchen’s in working order, you can invite me around for dinner, and we’ll open a couple of bottles to celebrate.” He laughed. “If you’re worried about taking advantage, make a list of what you’ve got there, and I’ll look it up and see if there’s anything that’s stupidly expensive at auction. Let the idiots fight over those. Then we can pick a couple of good ones to drink ourselves.”
“Well, if you’re sure you want to do that ...”
“Who else have I got to drink it with? My nieces wouldn’t want it -- they don’t have the palate, and they think it’s a sin to waste fine wine on them when they can’t appreciate it. Told you the women were the sensible ones in my family.”