At last, Ben snapped. He mentioned one morning to Peter Cameron that he thought he’d heard someone messing around outside his trailer that night—it was probably nothing, and he could see no damage this morning.
Peter Cameron immediately said that Yuri should stay with him at night…they could put a camp bed into the sitting area for him. Even asleep, his presence would be a deterrent. Ben resisted the suggestion and said in a sotto voice that it would be really awkward. Peter insisted.
Bronislav said he didn’t mind.
So Nikolas was installed into Ben’s trailer for the last few days in Paradise.
They made it so for themselves.
They had to be relatively circumspect in their activities, as it was alarming how much a trailer rocked to urgent thrusting, but long, slow sliding in and out and finding spots that made them shudder and moan into the pillow was just as good, and they kissed and stroked and spoke quietly long into the night, which is what Ben had really been missing when he’d stalked Nikolas like a predator.
When someone commented that Yuri Bronislav looked tired in the mornings after nights of guarding Ben, they all took it as another sign of just how dedicated he was. Ben could have attested to this by the ache in his body and the superb numbness of being totally sated again. Guarding him thoroughly did indeed require dedication.
CHAPTER TWENTY
They were leaving Paradise. They had all the footage they wanted of Oliver’s final visit home before his death. Peter Cameron now wanted to film Oliver’s first break into acting as a teen in a popular Kiwi soap, but none of this involved Ben. They had a local actor selected to play seventeen-year-old Oliver Whitestone and the whole company was moving to Wellington for a week before flying to the States.
Ben, therefore, had some downtime. Peter suggested that he keep Bronislav with him. He agreed with Peter that the bodyguard being with him constantly was a very good idea.
It was even better when the bodyguard reminded him that he owned property in New Zealand.
The only trouble was deciding which one to go to.
Nik owned a vineyard in Central Otago, apparently. But as he explained patiently to Ben, he couldn’t just kick the family out, as they not only ran the business for him, but had done so for his grandfather before him. Ben suspected this generosity was more because Nik liked drinking wine, but was more than happy to let someone else grow it for him.
He admitted he had a large station near Queenstown, which, again, had long-standing tenants doing something with milk shares and yield that was incredibly profitable and enabled him to buy nice watches when he wanted them.
He then recalled slyly that he also possessed a number of houses scattered around the country from Auckland to Steward Island, some occupied fulltime, some as holiday rentals—cribs, as they were known.
One phone call to his Auckland agent and they were given very good news. His place in Wanaka was empty. Exceptionally good luck for them in the middle of the skiing season when it was usually booked well over four years ahead…The current occupier had suffered a heart-attack his first day of skiing and was in hospital in Dunedin before being transported home to Auckland. His wife was with him, of course.
Ben had to chuckle when he saw the crib. He’d imagined a kind of shack up in the hills. He should have known.
It was built along the lines of their house, in that it was mostly made of glass. It had panoramic views one-eighty degrees across the lake and the mountains and the tiny, exclusive township of Wanaka a couple of miles away. Nikolas had never seen it before, either, and he was just as interested to look around, until he apparently decided he preferred discovering Ben.
He told Ben to strip.
This was unusual. It was possibly the first time Nik had ever said this so blatantly. He sat in a chair in the brilliant New Zealand sunlight, no ozone layer dimming its intense clarity even in the winter, and told Ben to strip—that he wanted to watch. Ben got the distinct impression then that he hadn’t been the only one to realise they had many admirers, and that their ownership of each other was very, very lucky indeed and needed to be celebrated and reinforced at every opportunity.
Ben went along with Nikolas’s command—serious, not even pretending to be unwilling or coy. He unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it from his waistband, letting it hang tantalizingly open for a moment before pulling its crisp whiteness off his tanned, smooth skin and letting it fall to the floor. One by one, he levered off his shoes and socks, and stood before Nikolas, hands on his belt, waiting for a glint of further interest before he began to release it. A dilation of the pupils was enough.
He took his time sliding his zip down, mainly because it was stuck for a moment around his hard erection. When it was lowered, he freed his cock. It was a blatant display—one he usually didn’t indulge Nikolas with. Once in a while, though, he felt his own sexual nature, his beauty, his power. Standing in the brilliant beams of warm sunshine, seeing the raw, naked passion for him on Nikolas’s face, Ben felt a moment of clarity about his place in the world he didn’t often feel. His body was superb. And it was all Nikolas’s—if he wanted it.
Nikolas didn’t even last to the end of the erotic display. He was off the chair and on his knees to Ben before he even lowered his trousers. He took Ben’s cock deep into the back of his throat and didn’t even flinch when Ben ran fingers deep into his hair, yanking him even further on. Ben barely remembered the time when he wasn’t allowed to hold Nikolas as he gave him a rare blowjob. Where had that damaged man gone? Ben didn’t miss him. He liked this one—the one he’d created and fostered and encouraged. Nikolas knew Ben would never hurt him, never force him. He could relax into the pleasure he was giving. Ben bowed his back, rising onto his toes, groaning deeply. He didn’t want to come just yet, wanted to finish his strip, make Nikolas do the same—if he could—but the sensation of Nikolas’s generous lips upon his hardness, the slide and suck, the tease of tongue on tip, the strong hand squeezing his balls in time to the sucking overcame him entirely, and he cried out and released, sagging, holding himself up on Nikolas’s shoulders as he climaxed, watching with greedy fascination as Nikolas swallowed around his cock as shots of his cum juddered out unseen inside Nikolas’s mouth.
He was entirely wrung out by the time Nikolas let him drop, but Nikolas immediately sat back in his chair, only pausing for a moment to run his sleeve over his mouth before commanding huskily, “Continue.”
Ben could hardly stand, but he dutifully pushed his trousers to the floor and stepped out of them. He didn’t even feel embarrassed being soft in front of Nikolas, because he suddenly saw that Nikolas was touching himself.
This was something Nikolas had never done before.
Almost ten years, and Nikolas had never brought himself off in front of Ben. He didn’t like putting on shows with his body, and now Ben knew why. And besides, as he’d told Ben, if Ben was there, why waste a good erection on a hand job?
But now, staring at Ben, Nikolas freed his own cock and brought it hard and shining into the light. Ben, incredible even to himself, swelled on the sight and was fully hard again as he lowered his shorts and stepped out of them. He was entirely naked, being used as nothing more than a prop for Nikolas’s imagination, and it was one of the most arousing things Ben had ever done. For one moment, the power implicit in being an object of worship—a celebrity—washed over him. He ran his hands up his ridged abs to his nipples.
Nikolas was working himself. It was superb, watching a hand he knew literally as well as his own, stroking a cock which, again, he knew as well as his own…better in some ways, as he’d explored Nikolas’s cock with hands and eyes and tongue and teeth and lips and, of course, had allowed it inside his body more times than he could count. But now he got to see those long, elegant fingers he loved so much swipe over the tip of a cock he could taste in his mouth, needed to savour now. He fell to his knees, naked in front of Nikolas and begged to be allowed to swallow him. Nikolas arched back with sharp pleasure, but
instead of feeding his cock to Ben, he began to rub it slowly around Ben’s face, pushing it against his lips, but not letting him take it in, catching and grazing the tip along Ben’s stubble, even brushing it against his eyes as Ben slowly closed them.
Suddenly, Nikolas swore and shoved Ben to the floor, falling on top of him, kissing the trail he’d left with his cock—into Ben’s eyes, over his stubble, across his lips. But he pulled off and choked roughly, “Turn over. Hands and knees.”
Ben obeyed. He wanted it as much as Nikolas did.
Nikolas took his time. He repeated the slow investigation he’d made with Ben’s face only now running his cockhead over Ben’s raised backside, up the cleft to the base of his spine, lower, down across his hole, but not entering, just scraping it around. Ben could have shouted with frustration, following the tantalizing exploration, anticipating the penetration. He began to touch himself, nicely relieved once so he could make this last as long as Nikolas needed.
Nikolas pushed a finger in, and Ben dipped at the waist, trying to escape the instant, abrupt pain, but it went away and there was only teasing and stroking, as Nikolas did things with his long, slim finger that were impossible with a cock—hooking and scraping his nail and working Ben in a way that made him whimper, knowing he was going to come again, but wanting to wait until he was brought off by a bigger, deeper, better possession.
He couldn’t wait. He came with Nikolas grazing his finger over the place that sent waves of delight into his balls, made them clench and rise and then send another load to be released, this time into his hand as he shuddered, supported by his other hand and gasping out his extreme satisfaction at this second coming.
Nikolas then chose to enter him.
Ben was very slippery and ready for him back there, but wrung out and running on empty everywhere else, and the invasion was too late, unwelcome, until Nikolas just pushed deep and then held still. Ben was filled just as he needed to be as he came down off his shuddering high.
Then before he knew it, he could feel twitches from Nikolas’s cock as it swelled inside him more. Beyond incredulous, his cock answered the clarion call and began to rise with interest. Nikolas pressed Ben’s head down to the carpet, holding him so his arse was raised fully. He nudged Ben’s legs further apart. He was impaled more than joined. And then Nikolas began to move.
Ben’s sensitive spot was still quivering from its last stimulation. It came back to life, as if that had merely been a prelude to the full orchestration of joy it could give. Nikolas put his hands into the hollows of Ben’s hips, pulling him on tighter, thrusting into him so hard that Ben was shoved into the floor on each lurch, only the hands held him up, spread and open. Nikolas worked off his desire and need, silently fucking Ben so roughly that each entry jerked them a little on the carpet, and they gradually slid across the beams of sunlight illuminating the room until Ben was up against the sofa, trapped, and the incredible pounding only increased in tempo until Nikolas let out a harsh cry and unburdened himself deep in Ben’s channel.
Ben felt Nikolas’s orgasm for a long time, the shudder of his muscles against his naked backside, the squirt of juice deep inside him and, best of all, the twitching of Nikolas’s heavy cock as it released and eased its tension inside him.
They came down together in a heap upon the floor, melting in the warm sunshine, utterly spent and replete. Ben knew they wouldn’t be going anywhere else for a while. It was the last thing he wanted to do anyway. He felt himself tipping over the edge into sleep and was totally content with nothing more to wish for. He had Nikolas asleep upon his back, deeply embedded inside him still, and all he could hear was the soft breathing of the man he loved. He wondered idly what the others would think if they could see Nikolas now—not so alien, not so remote. Whatever Nikolas was, Ben humanised him. It made him humble once more to realise this. Who was he that this man should want him so? It was a mystery he took with him into sleep, but slumber did nothing to solve it for him, for he went to a terrifying world where there was no Nikolas, and he woke to the knowledge that for the first time, despite their lovemaking and the peace he’d felt afterwards, he’d dreamt Oliver’s nightmares.
Oliver Whitestone’s dreams were dark, lonely places.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nikolas blinked one eye open to find he’d been dislodged and Ben was waking him by a slow tickle of his finger teasingly over his belly. He caught it and turned his head. Ben bent his head down for a kiss. “I didn’t want to shower alone.”
“What time is it?” Nikolas made Ben huff with amusement and familiar memories as he admired the look of Ben’s watch on his strong wrist. Ben was totally naked.
He was fully dressed, except for his cock, which was bare and laying across his hip. It needed waking up too, he decided—and it was three to one in Ben’s favour, so far. He snagged Ben’s firm backside closer, engaging their cocks. “Let’s make a shower worthwhile.”
They rolled and wrestled for a while, disrobing Nikolas and then they battled for dominance. Nikolas had very much enjoyed his orgasm deep inside Ben’s arse and wanted to revisit the experience. Ben clearly thought it was his turn and tried to fight Nikolas into submission. He was exceptionally strong these days, given his new regime, and Nikolas was missing his swimming work out, so after a few minutes he decided to let Ben win. He didn’t get a chance to put his capitulation into action, for Ben suddenly caught his wrists just so and held him, pinned and helpless, face first into the carpet. Ben panted, “Try and stop me.”
Nikolas could have replied, “I was,” but suddenly got Ben’s intent.
They played around the edges of rape occasionally, because they could, and because they trusted each other. Very occasionally, Ben would refuse him because Nikolas had done something or said something that upset and annoyed him, and he…well, he’d take Ben anyway…force him. He did it on the assumption that Ben was only saying no for attention, and that once they were finished he’d come around and be apologetic for the denial and forgiving for the…coercion. So far, that assumption had never failed Nikolas. It certainly wasn’t something they’d ever tell anyone, but if it worked for them, who was going to call them on it?
This, however, was different. They’d never done it the other way around. When he’d denied Ben, the few weeks leading up to Ben coming to New Zealand, Ben had never once raised the issue between them. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if Ben had tried. He’d always assumed he was stronger than Ben, or at least they were evenly matched. But Ben had changed. He’d stepped up his fitness; he’d turned a sleek heaviness into pure muscle. It was like being held by an anatomical diagram come to life.
He twisted his head around to see Ben above him. “Seriously? You want to try and fuck me if I decide to say no?”
“Could you say no though?”
Nikolas quirked his lips. “I could pretend.”
“That’s not the point. I’d want it real.”
“You should have taken your opportunity in Devon.”
Ben wrinkled his nose and rolled off. “Yeah.”
Nikolas turned on his side and propped his head up on his hand. “How about I give you my permission now to force me the next time I say no?”
Ben appeared glum. “I can’t see it happening any time soon.”
Nikolas repressed a smile at the implication that Ben was irresistible or that he was insatiable. Both were true, so he couldn’t call Ben on this gloomy prognosis. “Maybe you could try and be more annoying. Do something you know I would not approve of?”
“I could take up one of the many offers I’ve had since I’ve been here?”
Nikolas narrowed his eyes. “From whom?”
Ben shrugged irritatingly. “Everyone. Perks of the job…apparently.”
“Anyone that particularly took your eye?”
Ben grinned. “Yeah, this hard looking bloke with a scar. Claimed he was a bodyguard, but he’s more like a weird stalker…”
Nikolas rose over Ben, pinning
him down, which wasn’t hard as Ben was laughing and weaker. “I think I am doing my duties as your bodyguard very conscientiously, Benjamin. Inside and out, you are entirely secure.”
“I’m not feeling very safe. What’s that digging into me?”
Nikolas showed him and then it was entirely decided who would top whom, because once Nikolas got back inside Ben, he was lost once more to the sensation of his cock squeezing between Ben’s tight ring of muscle, sliding down his warm, welcoming channel, and then dragging out and in, and his balls rising and tightening, and it all coalescing for release until he could delay it no longer. He just had time to put a hand to Ben’s solid cock and feel him come in rhythm with the pulses he sent deep into Ben’s warm arse.
They were done and both knew it. It would be some time before they could revive again, and, besides, Ben’s rumbling stomach was telling Nikolas that he now had another duty to perform, one almost as important, as far as Ben was concerned—feeding him.
They rose with some difficulty from the floor, Nikolas offering assistance to Ben, although he felt in need of a hoist himself, and they went to explore the shower. It was just big enough for them both. It was only as they were under the water, gently washing down abused flesh, that Ben revisited Nikolas’s promise. “Were you serious—about me…forcing you? I was only joking, you know. I’d never hurt you.”
“Use the right word, Ben. If you want to do it, you need to say it. Rape me.”
Ben licked his lips and swiped over his face to clear away the cascading water. “It seems too wrong to talk about—like…I don’t know…necrophilia.”
Nikolas laughed, a short bark of surprise. “I wouldn’t be dead. I’d just be saying no.”
“No, I know that, I mean…but it wouldn’t really be…you know…rape…’cause we’d both know you really wanted it and it was just a game.”
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