The Bruise_Black Sky

by John Wiltshire

“Exactly. I don’t think you can ever have rape between two people already in a relationship.” He stepped out of the shower and passed Ben a towel before taking one himself. Rubbing his hair until it stood up in wayward peaks, he continued thoughtfully, “The agreement, the contract, is always in place, even when it appears to have been withdrawn over some slight, some imagined affront.”

  “That’s probably not a theory you should share with anyone else, Nik.”

  “I’m not. I’m sharing it with you.” He then added lightly, “And we both have been raped by strangers, have we not? So I think our views on these things are valid, whatever other people would say.”

  Ben held his gaze for a moment then pulled him into a tight hug, running his hands up and down Nikolas’s back. What had happened in the taiga was unspoken between them, but Nikolas knew. He ruffled Ben’s wet hair. “Come. Let’s stop talking about this. I want to take you out and watch everyone wanting you. I am appreciating it more and more, the more famous you become.”

  Ben cuffed him and they went into the bedroom to dress.

  §§§

  They went to the place where Ben wanted to eat. He was the celebrity; Nikolas worked for him. Ben pointed both these things out to his employee then took the expected punch to his shoulder. He was driving, so Nikolas couldn’t risk punishing him more. Ben wanted to go to this restaurant because there was an indoor climbing wall attached to it, so you could sit eating your meal and watch people…falling off. Watching them climb was boring; it was the failing that was so much fun.

  It wasn’t Nikolas’s kind of place to eat, as it was priced for families and consequently full of them, but Ben was happy, engrossed with the spider-like figures illuminated next to them. “Can you climb?”

  Nikolas shook his head. “You?”

  Ben frowned. “I had to in the army. Never liked it though.”

  “Why not?”

  They were interrupted by a young woman asking Ben shyly for his autograph. This led to other people openly staring at them. Nikolas reflected wryly that it was just as well he and Ben never touched in public. It was entirely plausible that he was actually Ben Rider’s bodyguard. Except that then Ben would be the one paying for the meal…

  “Do you think fame alone could lead you to kill yourself?”

  Nikolas laughed at the way Ben’s mind worked and answered, “You’re not that famous yet.”

  Ben blushed, just colour high up on cheekbones, the same flush he got sometimes when being fucked, and seeing it now made Nikolas shift a little in his seat, his own heat rising.

  “I didn’t mean that, and you know it. I meant Oliver. What if this—everyone staring at me—got worse? What if I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without being recognised? Would that be enough to drive someone to end it?”

  Nikolas shook his head. “No. What do you want to order? And stop with the no-carbs thing. You’re thin enough—too thin.”

  “I need—”

  “Ben, trust me, you’ll look good in Lycra. If you are not careful, they’ll be asking you to take Oliver’s place as Yoshi.”

  Ben leant back in his seat. The waitress came to take their order, so he was distracted for a while ordering and getting their drinks topped up. When it was quiet again, he murmured, “Is that what you think? That I’ll leave you for a glamorous life in Hollywood?”

  Nikolas shrugged. “It’s irrelevant what I—”

  “Shut up. Shut up right now, or I’ll come around the table and kiss you in a way no one could ever think was a concerned gesture to my bodyguard. Seriously, Nik, is that what you thought?” He jerked forward suddenly, catching Nikolas with his piercing green gaze. “When we get back to the crib, I’m going to show you just how dumb you really are. I’m going to punish you for being so moronic. And you know when you said I didn’t have it in me for true punishment? Well, I suggest you rethink that assertion. I wasn’t always on the receiving end of resistance to torture training.”

  Nikolas narrowed his eyes and was about to contest this, but decided he was in a win-win situation already so changed the subject. “Have you heard from Tim?”

  Ben nodded. “He said things were going well.”

  “Going well how? What is he doing?”

  Ben frowned. “I thought he was doing a job for you.”

  “Me? No. Huh.”

  “I hope Radulf is okay at Barton Combe.”

  “He’s not at Barton Combe.”

  Ben shot him a glare of annoyance. “Where is he, Nikolas? You told me he’d gone to Philipa’s.”

  “No, I said Philipa had him. You should—” Were you allowed to kick your bodyguard under the table? Probably. “It’s July, Ben. They’re all at Balmoral.”

  Ben sat back, his eyes wide. “You’re kidding. Our Radulf.”

  Nikolas chuckled at the term, but nodded. “Yes.”

  There was an “Oof” and a thump, and they flinched simultaneously, until they realised a climber had made it almost the whole way across the roof climb until he’d fallen just by the window where they were sitting. He appeared unharmed, disentangling himself from his ropes.

  “Pussy.”

  Ben frowned at Nikolas’s harsh judgement. “It’s not even easy going vertical. Horizontal above your head is only possible for the—”

  The food arrived, and from experience Nikolas knew he’d get no further interaction from Ben until Ben had hoovered his meal. He was actually hungry, too—excessive sex tended to work up an appetite, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten—so his Blue Cod tasted exquisite. It wasn’t blue, but he was actually relived at that. Ben had ordered steak, as usual, and seemed to be having no problem with that or the large order of fries that accompanied it.

  He turned to the climbing wall to wait for Ben to finish, and as he did so he caught his reflection in the glass.

  He looked tired. Old.

  His beard had been almost entirely grey. It had surprised him. Shocked him. He was forty-six. Ben was only thirty-three, wouldn’t be thirty-four for a couple of months yet. The difference in their ages…varied in importance over the years, he supposed. When he’d been twelve, it had been critical, because he had then lived a dozen years in a world without Ben. By the time Ben was twelve, he was already in the Soviet Special Forces. Already a monster. Married. A child on the way.

  But was the age gap more or less critical now?

  He shook himself and turned to find Ben’s gaze narrowed and assessing. Nikolas quirked his lips. “He has fallen again.”

  Ben nodded, and Nikolas knew Ben had seen straight through his lie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  After they’d eaten, they strolled down to the lakeshore through light snow. In other circumstances, being other people, they would have linked arms, held hands, celebrated the romance of a snowy walk in the dark canopied by a lowering sky and illuminated by the occasional light from a shop window.

  When they reached the shore, they wandered along the pebbled beach towards a stand of vast deciduous trees. There, in that privacy, they closed the tiny gap between them and kissed. Ben pushed his cold hands in under Nikolas’s jacket, freed his shirt and pressed his icy palms up against Nikolas’s warm, bare back. Ben felt Nikolas smile into the kissing. He’d been Ben’s hand warmer for many years now and was very used to it. Ben slid his palms down into the back of Nikolas’s trousers, pulling their hips together as their tongues explored. They were both semi-hard, just a nice swelling, concentrating their thoughts south—a lazy expectation of relief to come at some time, but not distracting from the pleasure of just standing close, mouth to stubble or ear, lips fastening gently on lips, tongue meeting tongue with a smile and murmur of appreciation. Eventually, needing to breathe and getting cold, they separated. Nikolas bent to light a cigarette, and Ben began to skim pebbles across the still lake. The cloud passed; the moon came out, and they were suddenly bathed in an ethereal light, which illuminated the ripples from Ben’s game.

  Ben looked up, and th
e whole panoply of mountains covered in glistening white was visible. The lake was entirely surrounded by this unearthly beauty. He turned and saw moonlight in Nikolas’s eyes.

  He tried never to tempt fate. He couldn’t help it though. This one moment in his life was completely perfect. He remembered he’d felt this outside the marquee, and what had followed after to shatter that belief. It didn’t matter now. What Nikolas said, what Nikolas told him about himself, was not important anymore. In some ways, Ben saw that it was all a lie—all of Nikolas’s past life. Why should Nikolas tell him about lies? This was the truth. What Nikolas was here and now, being with him on this lakeshore in the moonlight surrounded by nature in its untouched splendour—this was their truth. He saw Nikolas quirk his lips, watching him through smoke-squinted eyes. “I am not going to ask, Benjamin. You will come out with something obscurely profound that will have me puzzling over it later. I have other plans for later.”

  Ben came close and kissed him lightly, tasting tobacco. “It’s nearly time for you to give up, by the way.”

  They began to make their way back to their hire car. “What do you mean?”

  “Smoking. I’m giving you a bit of notice, so you can torture yourself knowing it’s coming, but next week, you stop.”

  Nikolas sighed wearily, but it was just a little too studied for Ben to believe. “I have told you, Benjamin—you forget that you gave me full per—”

  “You might want to start cutting down first…so the giving up is easier? Is that how it works, or is it better to go cold turkey?”

  “It’s better if we don’t speak about it at all!”

  “Whoa, is that fear I hear?”

  Nikolas flicked his cigarette away and stomped a little further in front of him. Ben caught up, his feet crunching deliciously through the freshly fallen snow.

  They reached the car. Nikolas took the keys and stated he would drive.

  When they pulled up in front of the house, Nikolas made to get out, but Ben caught his jacket and held him in. Ben turned in his seat and Nikolas sighed, closing the door and staring stonily to the front. Ben smiled privately at the expression. He began to trail his finger in the hair at the back of Nikolas’s neck until Nikolas twitched and flicked it off, annoyed. Ben put it back and tugged one longish strand.

  “All right. All right!” Nik tapped the steering wheel as if hearing an angry beat in his head then added, “Would you give up exercising if I asked you to?”

  Ben frowned. “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I will decide I prefer you fat? Have you thought about that? Maybe I’ll decide I want you…squishy.”

  “Squishy?”

  “You know what I mean. What would you say?”

  “You know, I’m not sure. It’s not something that’s ever come up between us…me being…squishy.”

  “I’ll tell you what you would say then. You’d say no. Because you are addicted to exercising. You cannot give it up.”

  “You’re likening you smoking to me keeping healthy?”

  “Ack, you are wilfully missing my point. You do this all the time, Ben—play slightly dumb whilst actually understanding perfectly what I mean.”

  “Okay then. You’re admitting you’re addicted and can’t give up. How’s that for perception?”

  Nikolas clenched his jaw and changed his drumbeat. “Well, there you are. Aren’t you clever. So, no, I’m not giving up, and you can stop nagging me and I’ll stop nagging you about exercising. That’s fair, no?”

  Ben snorted and ruffled his hair. “I’m thinking Wednesday, but we can bring it forward if you’re brave enough.”

  “Fuck off.” Nik slammed out into the snowy drive and strode into the house.

  Ben watched him go and relived his moment of perfection down by the lake. Mountains, sky, water, vast trees, moonlight, snow—it was all nothing without the obvious completeness that had been there: Nik.

  Nikolas was trying to get the television to work when Ben came in. It was a clear statement that Ben was being punished and shut out. As a declaration it would have worked better if Ben didn’t have to show him how to actually work the machine. It helped, of course, to use the TV remote and not the one for the DVD player. With a huff, as if such trivial details were beneath him, Nikolas spread out on the sofa (no room for Ben) and lit another cigarette. He was being deliberately provocative, so Ben ignored him and went for a shower.

  Suddenly there was a shout. This was so unusual, that Ben ran back into the room, shirt still clutched in his hand. “It’s Radulf—look!”

  Ben slid alongside Nikolas who was sitting up, remote in hand. It was Radulf. He was in the back of the picture with a few other dogs. Ben blinked in astonishment and focused on the story. A reporter was explaining that the Palace had announced the separation of the Prince of Wales from his wife. The report was being filmed outside the gates on the Balmoral estate where the Royal Family were taking their annual summer holiday. The announcement had been made with great sadness…irreconcilable differences…And there was Radulf, head cocked to hear the buzz of activity. The segment flicked back to the studio to a head-to-head with grave presenters analysing the import of the news.

  Nikolas suddenly glanced at his watch then dug out his phone. When his call was answered, he stood up and walked a little away from Ben, and all Ben heard was some soft murmurs.

  She’d done it.

  Philipa had held on all these years through the births of two children and the presentation to the world of a perfect marriage, but it had finally happened.

  It was too surreal for Ben to take in that, so far away, across the other side of the world, he should be involved in such huge events.

  Ben felt a prick of…unease.

  He watched Nikolas’s back, the edge of a frown he could just see.

  Nikolas had immediately called Philipa with the same worry with which he’d flown to his side.

  Was Ben missing something vital here?

  Had Nikolas’s struggle to come here, to be with him, been no more or less than the care he gave everyone in his circle? Had Ben mistaken paternal concern for passion?

  Before he could think this latest worry through, Nikolas returned to the sofa. He sat with his head lowered, staring at the phone for a while.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Huh?”

  “Philipa. Is she…okay?”

  Nikolas frowned. “I suppose so. I didn’t ask her.”

  “Huh?” Sometimes their conversations were astonishingly bizarre.

  “I didn’t ask her.”

  “So what did you call for?”

  Nikolas looked bemused, as if this ought to be entirely obvious. “I wanted to know why Radulf was there like that on his own! She promised she’d keep him with her, Ben. He can’t see! Why are you laughing?”

  Ben shook his head, trying to deny that he was. Nikolas hated being laughed at. He always had.

  He patted Nikolas’s hand. “Did I mention recently that I love you?”

  “No, you have been too busy being clever and disagreeable.”

  “Because I want you to live a long life? Because I love you enough to die if you die coughing your lungs up? That kind of disagreeable?”

  Nikolas quirked his lip. “Yes. Exactly that kind.” He sighed and leant back in the sofa. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t smoke. I’m old enough without adding years unnecessarily.”

  Ben reared back a little. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

  “Don’t swear at me. It’s obvious that I’m very much older than you. You are…” He waved his hand dismissively at Ben. “You are getting more beautiful every day, whereas I…at least if you leave me for some young movie star, I’ll be free to smoke. There is that, I suppose…”

  Ben sank back next to him, pondering the TV screen, but not really listening. “Do you know, of all the dumb things you’ve ever said over all the years I’ve known you, and trust me, you have said more than your fair share, that is the
most dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you utter.”

  “Most dumbest is ungrammatical. Miles Toogood would be turning in his grave if he were dead.”

  “I rest my case.” He turned to face Nikolas. “Look at me.”

  “No.”

  Ben swung over to straddle Nikolas’s lap, eliciting a very fake sigh of annoyance. “Look at me.” Nikolas could hardly refuse without closing his eyes childishly, for Ben’s vast, naked chest was right in front of him. He sighed again and dutifully raised his gaze to Ben’s face. He blinked, clearly surprised. Ben was biting his own lip.

  When he could taste blood, he bent down and kissed Nikolas, murmuring, “Take my blood and own me.” He felt Nikolas’s tongue licking along the little wound then pulled his mouth down to his nipple. Nikolas bit him, as Ben knew he would. It was painful and exquisite and was just between them, marking them, joining them. They didn’t do this very often, but it was entirely understood between them—they were each other’s sustenance and life. Nikolas lapped at the bleeding bite mark he’d inflicted. They were both so aroused it was painful to remain in clothes. Nikolas lowered Ben to the carpet and while the world unknowingly discussed the future of his ex-wife, Nikolas appeared to forget his anger at having to give up smoking, and the subsequence meltdown in confidence this had caused, in the remembrance that Ben Rider-Mikkelsen was his—body and soul.

  They were sore from the afternoon’s marathon sex session. Ben winced as Nikolas entered him. Nikolas gritted his teeth, then they both laughed into each other’s mouths, remembering why Ben’s arse hurt to be penetrated, why Nikolas’s cock was tender. They paused for a moment, kissing with no further urgency, and then Nikolas slid his lips further down and returned to Ben’s nipple. Ben held Nikolas’s head, counting the slow thrusts, the lap of the tongue on his bleeding flesh. He began to run his nails down Nikolas’s back, marking him, but not caring. Nikolas arched with a grunt and sped up, parting Ben’s thighs, kneeling to him, lifting and pulling him on. Ben flung his hands out to the side, crucified on pleasure and cried out as he spilled, his cum pulsing, glistening onto his belly as Nikolas coated him inside.