Don’t pull his hair out. Don’t pull your cock off.
That might have been his last rational thought, because March was fucking him with his tongue, twisting his warm, wet, pushy, talented fucking fuckery fuckering tongue into his arse, sliding it in and out, dancing it over and around his hole, until Caleb’s not breathing became more than a thought and turned into an actual problem.
March’s hand settled around Caleb’s, where it had a death grip at the base of Caleb’s cock, added to his own death grip, and the need to come receded minutely.
Caleb managed to inhale a lungful of air and then his lungs froze again when he felt the spurt of cold lube and March’s finger tentatively pressing into him.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Caleb blurted.
His eyes slammed shut as one finger became two, and when March curled them and found his prostate as if he’d been doing it all his life—maybe he has, ask him later—Caleb’s stomach clenched violently. “Yesss. More. More.”
March laughed. “Pushy bottom.”
“I told you. Oh Christ.”
March pulled his fingers out, and Caleb opened his eyes to protest, only to see him fumbling with the condom.
“I want you now,” March said. “If I don’t get inside you in the next few seconds it’s going to be too late.”
And if Caleb didn’t get March’s cock inside him soon, he’d come before March did, which would be embarrassing.
March leaned over and positioned his dick at the entrance to Caleb’s body. He rocked his hips back and forth, nudging Caleb’s hole, the strain evident on his face, but when just the very tip of him was partway through the muscle barrier, instead of thrusting in, March stopped and stared into Caleb’s eyes.
“Changed your mind? Not gay at all?” Caleb managed to say.
March laughed. “Jury’s out.” Then he buried himself inside Caleb in one swift plunge that drove a guttural cry from both their throats. “Jury’s in,” March grunted. “Verdict is guilty. Sentence is…” he looked into Caleb’s eyes, “…a lifetime of you.”
His face changed then, as if he realized the import of what he’d said. “Caleb,” March whispered and it felt as if March had kissed his heart. He gripped Caleb’s hands, pressing them down into the pillow next to Caleb’s head. “Oh fuck,” March whispered. “What are you doing to me?”
Caleb forgot he’d been willing March not to move until he’d adjusted to his girth. Forgot March had gone in a bit too fast, because in one way he hadn’t. He’d driven straight into Caleb’s heart.
“Sorry,” March groaned. “I meant to go slower but you sort of sucked me in.”
Caleb clenched around March’s dick until the guy gasped.
“So that was my fault,” Caleb said. “Not yours, Vlad the Impaler?”
“It’s just that you’re so sexy…” March leaned over and kissed him, his stomach muscles rippling against Caleb’s cock, “…and funny.”
Caleb tightened again around March’s shaft and March groaned. “Stop it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I need to move. I was trying to give you time to—whatever you have to do when you have a huge cock in your arse. Adjust. Adapt. Scream.”
March wriggled against him and Caleb bucked up.
“Fuck me right now,” Caleb said.
“Who’s in charge?” March leaned forward and pressed his lips against Caleb’s.
You. “Me.”
March pulled back and thrust into him, did it again and shifted straight into a series of superfast shunts that drove Caleb up the bed.
“Fuck,” March gasped.
Caleb’s hand slid back to his own cock and he jerked himself off in the same rhythm that March was driving into him, and matched that by lifting his hips to meet March’s thrusts. Where did March get his energy? Caleb thought he was going to get fucked through the wall.
Then March’s dick hit Caleb’s prostate and he was caught up in a curling wave that tumbled him out of his depth. Caleb fell out of sync, snatching at his dick, desperate to come. Pressure built at the back of his skull as March nailed the gland time after time. Caleb floundered in pleasure, shaking as he frantically pulled at his cock, and all the time he could hear some weird keening noise he thought was the kettle—until he remembered they weren’t in the kitchen and realized it was him.
Orgasm hit like a flash flood, sweeping him away, racing down his spine, into his balls and along his cock. He spurted over his fingers and his stomach, his body jerking with each spasm.
While Caleb was still coming, March tensed like a bowstring, and there was a warm feeling as the condom filled. March lowered himself onto him and buried his face in Caleb’s neck.
Caleb wrapped his arms around him, loving the feel and scent of his hot, sweat-slicked skin.
“That was good,” Caleb whispered.
“Only good?”
“It’s a step up from not bad.”
March chuckled and Caleb felt it through his body.
“Was it okay?” March asked and kissed Caleb’s neck.
“You know it was more than okay. It felt great.”
“I did it right?”
Caleb smiled against March’s shoulder. “Yeah, you did it right.”
“I should move. Get rid of the condom.”
“In a sec.” Caleb loved the weight and warmth of him, the security. “So you’re definitely gay then.” Caleb kept his tone light.
“Maybe we need to do that a few more times to make sure. Doing anything tomorrow—tonight? You’ll stay here, won’t you? I mean, even if you want to use the other bedroom because I was a sad disappointment in bed and you’re too polite to say so, there’s no way you should sleep on the floor.”
“I can’t believe you’re insecure.”
March kissed him and drew away long enough to remove the condom and wipe himself before he was back on Caleb, pressing him down onto the bed.
“I’m covered in come,” Caleb said.
“You hear me complaining? Was it really okay?”
It was the best I ever had because it was you and you’re clever and different and sweet and strong and confused and fuck, fuck, fuck…
“You’ve left too long a gap without answering. I’ll have to assume that girly wail I heard was one of disappointment.”
Caleb gave a heavy sigh. “And you say that after I decided not to tease you. How many times do I have to tell you it was great? I thought I was going into space, from the number of stars I could see.” He stroked March’s face. “You’re a natural.”
March grinned. “Good to know watching all that porn paid off.”
A bolt of panic flashed through Caleb, and he pulled March’s head down next to his as he beat the fear back with a big stick. March hadn’t seen him online. He’d have said if he had. There was so much new stuff all the time—the chances were remote that March would have come across anything featuring Caleb. Though, it had been a worry with Simon and particularly with Mike, who always wanted to see what others were doing. But Jasim had said most of it was dark material, not stuff available on the normal Web. I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe.
March rolled onto his side. “I need a shower. You going to join me?”
“After,” Caleb said.
He knew by the tight set of March’s jaw that he’d annoyed him, but Caleb wasn’t ready to talk about his back. Not yet. Although he wondered if maybe this was the man he could tell.
When March woke the next morning Caleb had gone, but had left his bag on the floor and another note.
I can still feel you inside me.
March smiled. Then he remembered what he’d felt last night on Caleb’s back and on his chest, and he stopped smiling. Cigarette burns. He could be wrong, but he didn’t think so. Two on Caleb’s chest and at least three on his back. Sm
all round patches of puckered skin.
Or maybe he’d been shot. Shotgun pellets would cause the same sort of scars.
March hoped Caleb would eventually be able to confide in him. He was wary of pushing too hard, in case Caleb ran.
March headed for the shower. Maybe he didn’t have to push. Maybe he could do some research of his own. He was an expert in ancient history. Uncovering some less ancient truths should be easy.
It wasn’t. March didn’t have a lot of free time during the day, but when he did, he checked the Web for information on Caleb Jones. A more unusual surname would have helped. Lots of guys called Caleb Jones, but none of them was his Caleb. My Caleb. There was no Facebook presence, nothing on LinkedIn, no membership of any carpentry association. Without a date of birth or national insurance number or driving license, March was stuck.
He felt bad then for having looked, particularly as it left him more unsettled. There were companies who’d do a search for a fee, but March had the sneaking suspicion they’d fail and he knew it would be a gross betrayal of Caleb’s trust.
There was also the possibility that Caleb was in some sort of witness protection and his name wasn’t Caleb Jones at all. Whatever the truth, Caleb was hiding and March had to be careful not to put him in danger. A thought that made him realize he needed to have a conversation with his head of department. Caleb had a reason to hide but March didn’t.
He knocked on the door of Geraldine’s office.
“Come in.”
March closed the door behind him.
“What can I do for you?” She smiled at him.
March took a deep breath. “I’m gay.”
Geraldine’s eyes widened slightly. “That was why you broke off your engagement?”
Bloody Andy. March had told him not to say anything, but his friend had been determined to match him up for so long. He’d been the first person March had told about the breakup, after his mother.
“Perhaps you’re bisexual.”
March almost laughed. Now he’d finally dragged himself out of the closet, she didn’t want to believe him? Had she any idea how hard this was for him? Stop bloody whining.
“I’m…shocked,” Geraldine said. “Everyone’s thought you were straight for so long, to come out now looks very convenient.”
“That would have been true if I’d told you when you came to see me with that allegation.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Personal reasons, but I want you to know now.”
“Thank you for telling me. You did the right thing, March.”
When? He felt as though he’d been doing the wrong thing all his life.
March had one more hour at work, lecturing on Aztec social customs, including cannibalism, before he was free to leave. He gabbled, took less time than he should have and ended up ad-libbing. Fortunately he knew endless trivia about the Aztecs and managed to end the lecture with almost everyone laughing.
March called Caleb as he left the building.
“Hi,” Caleb said.
The relief in hearing his voice made March stumble. Christ. “I’ve just finished work. Are you nearly done?”
“A couple of legs to saw off, clean up the blood and I’m finished. Can I cook for you? At your place?”
Relief lightened March’s heart. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll call at the supermarket. Anything you don’t eat?”
“Squid, octopus, cockles, whelks, veal, foie gras, liver and ice cream.”
There was a slight pause before Caleb answered. “Then I won’t do my signature dish—seafood surprise with ice cream.”
“Bring more lube.”
Caleb did laugh at that.
March stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Last night had been the best night of his life, except maybe he ought to put the night he rescued Caleb above that. The trouble was March was impatient. He wanted all of it and he wanted it now. Except—there was another except—fucking Caleb had been mostly straightforward. He knew enough from the videos he’d watched to see what to do and it had been hot. But letting Caleb fuck him might be more difficult. His arse clenched at the thought. Maybe he needed to be drunk. Except—fucking except—he was still on call for lifeboat duty, so he couldn’t get drunk.
Chapter Nineteen
Tye had no way of knowing when Liam would take him to Jasim. He developed a pattern of his own. Don’t eat for two days, then eat for four. If he was lucky, Jasim would want him at the right time.
He wasn’t lucky and eating that way made him sick, gave him stomach cramps and left him weak and more susceptible to the alcohol Liam gave him, less able to avoid swallowing the pill that made him unaware, made him forget.
Until…
One day, the first of flushing his food down the pan, Liam walked in still clothed. Tye managed not to drink most of the whisky. He let it slide from his mouth, under the pillow. He pretended to be intoxicated and when Liam pushed the pill between his lips, this time Tye managed to hide it under his tongue. He did nothing when Liam fastened cable ties on his wrists and ankles, and when Liam walked out, Tye spit the dissolving pill off the side of the bed.
He watched through barely open eyes as Liam wheeled a crate into the room. He didn’t remember ever being put in a crate and panic flared. What if Liam was going to kill him and dump him? Tye pulled at the ties. Why the fuck hadn’t he just fought while he could?
“What the hell?” Liam glared down at him as Tye tried to roll off the bed.
“Let me go.”
Liam backhanded him twice. Tye’s head snapped from side to side, and the world went black long enough for Liam to inject something into his neck. As everything faded again, Tye registered all the effort to keep his head clear had been wrecked.
He woke lying on Jasim’s bed, next to a naked Jasim. No ties on his wrists or ankles, but the room swam in and out of focus. Jasim had his hand on Tye’s cock, sliding it up and down.
“Liam’s going to…kill me.” Tye forced out the words. He wrapped his arms around Jasim and pressed his face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Doesn’t want me anymore.”
Jasim laughed. “He won’t kill you. He does want you, just not for himself.”
“Please help me.” Tye pulled back to look into Jasim’s face. “Take me away from him…before it’s too late.”
“I can’t.”
“I’d be better…if I wasn’t drugged.”
Jasim stared at him. “Then stop taking dope.”
Tye gaped at him. “Liam drugs me.” He had to make him understand. “I don’t take anything willingly—he does it all. He’s kept me a prisoner since I was eleven years old.”
* * *
Caleb agonized over what to cook, but in the end went for something simple. He could toss together tagliatelle, crispy smoked bacon, mushrooms, asparagus and cream in a matter of minutes. He bought a bottle of chilled white wine and a chocolate tart.
On the way back to March’s, he rang Victor.
“Hello, my darling,” Victor said.
“Have you killed him yet?”
Victor chuckled. “He’s being a good boy.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“Yes and they thought I was being a drama queen. I was, but that’s not the point. No suspect. Nothing they can do. Here, talk to him.”
Caleb groaned. If he’d wanted to talk to Mike, he’d have called him.
“Hi, Caleb.”
“How are you feeling?” Caleb asked.
Mike gave a short laugh. “Do you care?”
“Of course I do.”
“I’m getting there.”
“Did you remember anything else about that night? About the guy who stabbed you, I mean.”
“No. I told the police everything I knew.”
“R
ight.”
“Victor’s taking me on holiday tomorrow.”
“Great.” Although Caleb wondered if it would be enough. They couldn’t stay on holiday forever.
“Why?”
Caleb pulled closer to the edge of the road to let a vehicle overtake. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you know something you’re not telling me?” Mike sounded petulant. Caleb recognized the tone.
“I have no idea who stabbed you, but it’s possible it was someone with a warped sense of protection toward me. You hurt me. He hurt you.”
“He did more than fucking hurt me,” Mike shouted. “He nearly fucking killed me.”
“I thought you were going to kill me,” Caleb said quietly.
“Fuck off.” Mike ended the call.
“I hope no one was hacking into that call, you stupid bastard.” Caleb sighed.
I’m going to tell March everything.
Not a good idea.
Maybe not, but I am.
Later.
How much later?
Caleb pulled in behind March’s car and carried the groceries toward the house. The door opened before he reached it and he felt a swell of pleasure that March was waiting for him.
March tugged the bags from his hands, but didn’t take them to the kitchen. He put them down and pressed Caleb up against the wall.
“Where have you been all my life?” March’s lips were against Caleb’s and the two of them ate at each other as if they’d been parted by a sea, by a war—licking, biting, getting greedy—until they calmed into soothing brushes of mouths and tongues.
“How come whatever I intend gets lost when I’m with you?” March pulled back long enough to ask and then was on him again.
Caleb sagged as March worked his tongue in and out of his mouth, and rocked his hips against Caleb’s in the same sexy way. They moaned as they kissed, the sound surging between them until Caleb’s head was spinning.
Give Yourself Away Page 20