This Other Country

by This Other Country [MLR MM] (epub)

  “Ben?”

  He could hear the cogs of the man’s mind grinding. Was it a trick? Would his Ben Rider-Mikkelsen have done this—the Ben that Nikolas had destroyed with lies? Ben heard a slithering down the rocks, bare feet, naked skin on granite, and then a soft thud alongside him. “Ben?”

  Nikolas wasn’t coming close.

  “I know you’re fooling, Ben. You’re too good to have fallen climbing there. You’ve climbed this tor thousands of times before.”

  Pathetic.

  “Ben. This isn’t funny anymore. I’m not coming over there to check you. I’m not stupid.”

  Yeah, you are, and you will. Eventually.

  “Ben! I mean it! Stop it! This is really dumb.”

  Almost there…

  “All right! I’ll tell you about Emilia. She’s a lap dancer. I think you’d really like her if you actually met her.”

  “What!” Ben turned, about to spring to his feet.

  Nikolas crowed in triumph and shot back up the tor.

  This time Ben had him in sight. The bastard couldn’t launch a surprise attack from the top. He scrabbled after the fleeing figure and they reached the smooth crown at the same time.

  Ben lunged and brought Nikolas down. They were both completely winded, Nikolas from laughing and Ben from fury. He began to punch into Nikolas’s kidneys, holding him down by sheer weight and anger. Nikolas tried to speak through the sniggering and the pain. “She’s Russian, Ben, so she gives me things you never could. I’m so sorry…oh, God, stop. Please.”

  Ben stilled for a moment. “Russian? Emilia was in Russia. I was in Russia. Emilia was the princess in the mist with the hair like fire. I remember Emilia. She was just a kid…She…” He looked down at Nikolas’s sparkling eyes and hit him again, just because he could. He lay alongside him on his back in the moonlight, cold, naked and wet. “You utter bastard.”

  “Ack, you needed the exercise. You’re getting fat. What did she say before you broke my phone?” Nikolas prodded gingerly over his nose as he spoke.

  Ben was too busy trying to sort memories to reply. A girl. Trees. A river. Snow that made him happy. And that was the memory that then became crystal clear—the two of them making love in the snow. “Oh.” He turned his head. He’d chased a stranger up this tor, but beside him now was Nikolas—still indistinct, distant, as if seeing him from the wrong end of a telescope, but Nikolas, nevertheless. The man he’d lain with somewhere in the snow and kissed until his lips had been swollen from the rub of stubble. He remembered how he felt about that man. He wasn’t feeling it now, but he remembered it, and that was overwhelming.

  He grabbed Nikolas and began to kiss him again, wanting that swell and friction on his lips. Nikolas tasted of peat and cold air.

  He tasted of desire.

  Ben mouthed into the kiss, “I remember you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Guilt was a very easy emotion to provoke in Ben Rider-Mikkelsen. Nikolas made a huge fuss about his phone, whilst secretly glad it was broken so he could update it with the latest model. He was incredibly touched later that day, however, when Ben appeared with the old phone mended. Nikolas had never owned anything stuck together with electrical tape before. It was rather novel. If he tapped the phone a few times first it actually worked. Ben claimed Harry Black could fix anything: he’d used it once or twice on his bike. That had led to a deep frown and a hesitant, “Do I still have my Suzuki? I guess not. Ten years. Fuck.”

  Nikolas smiled. He liked giving Ben Rider-Mikkelsen pleasure—he liked annoying him more, but giving pleasure was good as well. “Have you not been in the garage?”

  “You have a garage here?”

  “You have a garage here.”

  Nikolas led the way back toward the stables and then down to the tennis court. Ben stopped to look at this for a while, but Nikolas was impatient to show him what was in the garage.

  Ben fell in love with his urban-chic monster as quickly and completely as he had the first time he’d seen it. “When did I get this?” He was running his hands over its matte perfection.

  “For your 30th birthday.”

  He glanced up quickly. “You bought it for me?”

  Nikolas shrugged, remembering the complex emotions he’d felt leaving for Russia with Gregory. “Come. I must return to London for a while and find myself a new computer expert.” When in the wrong, when feeling guilty, throw the culpability out to someone else. Ben immediately apologised yet again for Kate, and Nikolas magnanimously nodded his head in acceptance. He actually did need a new computer expert. He had a feeling he and Kate wouldn’t be working together again.

  Ben trailed after Nikolas into the bedroom. Nikolas was packing a few things and drawled, “No,” amused.

  Ben, whose eyes had been focused on the bed, immediately protested, “What? I wasn’t thinking that!”

  Nikolas snorted. “Yes, you were.”

  § § §

  Ben couldn’t argue. He had been thinking about sex again. He sat on the bed, watching Nikolas.

  What the fuck? Again.

  But seriously…what the fuck?

  A man.

  And not just a man…this man. Was it the way he moved? So lazy and unconcerned on the outside but so fast and ferocious within—a predator…

  And what the fuck kind of thing was that for a bloke to think about another bloke?

  But Nikolas was a predator.

  Ben had allowed a man to tie him up and hit him, and he ached to feel that loss of control again. Because, of course, once he’d surrendered his power, Nikolas had given it back to him, more than he knew he had, and Ben’s body and mind were in freefall still, revelling in this new self-awareness.

  Ben stood and went up to Nikolas who was choosing between different watches laid out on the dresser. Ben picked one up. “Wear this one.”

  Nikolas smirked at the choice and fastened it onto his wrist. Ben put his thumb on one of Nikolas’s very prominent cheekbones. He saw an immediate but quickly veiled flinch. Interesting. Out of the context of sex, this man didn’t like being touched unexpectedly. He made a mental note to do it more often, acclimatise him to it. He brushed his thumb idly along the line of bone, holding the dark gaze. Nikolas’s eyes were brown. He’d thought so, but that night they’d changed colour: lighter, more feral than this warm chocolate. Responses entirely hidden now, composed, the man was allowing the scrutiny. Very slowly, Ben turned him so they were both facing the mirror on the drawers, side by side. They were the same height. Nikolas was fractionally taller than he was perhaps, but then his hair was much longer. Ben still wasn’t quite used to his own reflection yet. He’d gotten over his oh-my-God-I’m-so-old phase and could see more interesting changes.

  Did he look like a man who’d done what he had with this blond man? If he went back to the regiment today would he be accepted?

  Was he marked in some way?

  Did other men sense these things?

  He licked his lips, watching this and not missing the way Nikolas’s eyes also followed the small movement in the mirror. “I’m not gay.” He spoke to the reflection in the glass, and Nikolas replied the same way.

  “What prompted that thought?”

  “I just want you to know that. I don’t…Do we…fuck other men? Do we, I don’t know, go to gay bars?”

  Nikolas sort of scrunched his face, an expression Ben hadn’t seen on it yet, and he laughed at the effect, which broke the tension. Nikolas dragged him away from the mirror and onto the bed, just a friendly falling together with no particular thought for sex. Nikolas was dressed in the most expensively cut suit Ben had ever seen, and he had the very distinct impression Nikolas wouldn’t want to be messed up again. They lay side by side on their backs, feet on the floor, watching clouds scurry across the dull grey sky. “No.”

  Ben chuckled. He’d been thinking about other things and had to struggle to remember his question. He turned enquiringly, and Nikolas repeated more firmly, “No. We don’t.” He th
ought for a moment and added, “Surprisingly, we’ve both been entirely faithful since we began living together.”

  “How do you know I have?”

  “What?”

  “Well, have you had me tagged or something?”

  Nikolas glanced at Ben’s watch for a moment then shook his head. “No, but I’d know.”

  “How?”

  He appeared annoyed and studied his own watch. Seeming pleased by what he saw, he gave it a small stroke with the tip of his finger. “It’s getting late. I want to miss the traffic. I must go.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Nikolas sighed and was about to argue, but Ben stated simply, “I can either drive you, or I’ll just follow on my bike. Either way, I’m coming.”

  Nikolas muttered something, and Ben guessed it was Russian again, for he didn’t understand it. He made the sudden decision there and then to learn the language.

  “When did I learn Danish?”

  Nikolas was heading to the kitchen with his bag.

  “If you’re coming, get ready.”

  “Did I go to lessons? Did you teach me?”

  “You went to Denmark and lived there for six months. Where are the keys?”

  “Denmark? I lived in Denmark? With all the windmills?”

  Nikolas stopped with his hand on Radulf’s lead. “Windmills. Yes, that’s right, Benjamin. Don’t forget the clogs and the tulips.”

  Ben jiggled the keys in his hand. “What are you going to tell Squeezy and whatshisname?”

  “Tim. His name is Tim Watson, and he’s your friend.”

  “Tim then. What are you going to tell them about…?”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t want them to know we’ve slept together?”

  Ben had only known Nikolas Mikkelsen for a few days, but he understood the undercurrent of that question and thought hard for a moment. “Uh-huh. Forget I said that. They already do.”

  Nikolas rubbed Ben’s hair then seized him in a surprisingly strong arm lock and knuckle rubbed him hard, apparently just because he could.

  § § §

  Occasionally, Nikolas caught himself not missing his Ben in favour of this new one.

  The drive to London, however, was not one of those times.

  They were incompatible in most things they thought and did or liked, but over the years Ben had become content to accept Nikolas had his way in everything—which, actually, of course, then made them extremely compatible.

  That was old Ben, of course—the Ben who’d been introduced to Nikolas as Sir Nikolas, and who’d worked for him for many years, always aware of his background, his wealth, his power, his status and rank. This Ben knew nothing of any of that. Perhaps he just saw an older man who was clearly lying about what he’d done in the past, who had more money than sense, and who bought him very nice presents. Like houses. And was fuckingly good in bed. Nikolas hid a private smirk at this thought, remembering Ben’s expression as he’d been introduced, from Ben’s perspective, to the joys of man on man sex.

  But this Ben didn’t see why, as he was driving, he shouldn’t have his music on…Radio 1.

  Nikolas knew what modern music was; he just didn’t want to experience it. Like scat—it was just something he’d never been tempted to try. He flicked to Radio 4. Dear Leader was being questioned about the situation in the Ukraine. This should be amusing. He doubted Dear Leader could put his finger onto the Ukraine on a map.

  Ben sneered, “Fuck this,” and changed it back, tapping the wheel along to something that sounded like slob on my knob by the sick Mafia, which Nikolas supposed he must have misheard. His English didn’t stretch to the American version of the language.

  “Turn it back, Benjamin.”

  “Fuck you! I’m driving! Driver’s rules—or do you have some freaky Russian version of that?”

  Nikolas didn’t know where to begin. It was like your chauffeur answering you back. He had his mouth open to remonstrate, when Ben continued, “And don’t give me all that don’t swear at me shit.” His accent, mimicking Nikolas’s mangled vowels, was so good Nikolas had to laugh. “Yeah, I don’t know what kinda pussy I’ve become in the last ten years, but there’s no way I’d let you boss me about.” He wrinkled his brow. “In fact, what’s the bloody point of fucking a bloke if you don’t get to not have all the bloody nagging girls do all the time?”

  “Being gay does have its advantages.” Ben thought he was going to win an argument? He had no idea what he’d begun. “Watch the road.”

  Ben snatched his eyes back to the front and turned off the music. “I am not gay.”

  Nikolas shook his head, agreeing sadly, “I know that, of course. Men wear dresses for many reasons now, and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re—”

  “What!”

  “Eyes? Road? I don’t mind when you do it, honestly—I find it strange, and wouldn’t want to myself, especially when paired with stubble, but it doesn’t bother me. I told you this the other night! Didn’t I?”

  “Me? Wearing fucking dresses?”

  “I only wonder where on earth you buy the matching shoes, because you have big…feet…but they always seem to fit quite well. You looked very nice in the frock you wore for the…” What was that expression Samuel had used? Ah, yes, he knew listening to Samuel so considerately would come in handy one day, “…prettiest girl in the club contest. You won, of course.”

  Ben was silent until the next junction. It was a blessed relief, and Nikolas turned the PM back on. The Russian president had been summoned to Downing Street for a crisis conference. Nikolas chuckled to himself. He couldn’t imagine the president he’d known in other circumstances being summoned anywhere. They’d shared an office building once, until their respective careers had led them on other paths. They’d actually had a brief conversation once in the toilets.

  It had been a singularly unpleasant experience for both of them.

  “I don’t fucking believe—”

  “I have a photograph of you in a dress. It’s yellow.” This was actually true—almost. Ben was about three months old and technically it was a Christening gown, but these things were all semantics.

  He got to listen to the whole interview in peace.

  § § §

  Ben was on even less sure ground when they arrived at the London house. This, he gathered, was Nikolas’s house and had been since before they’d met. He didn’t remember much from his very brief visit at the beginning of the week. Fear, confusion and anger tended to do that. Nikolas had summoned the team once more, and Ben greeted Squeezy with a subdued nod, muttered hello to Tim equally quietly, and decided to make everyone tea.

  The team was decidedly depleted. Kate, of course, was absent. Andrea Gillian wasn’t required—she was coming later to examine Ben—and Jackson hadn’t arrived yet.

  Ben had just finished making the tea when this last member of ANGEL strode in. Ben hadn’t met this man before. Jackson clearly knew him, but he only gave Ben a small salute, sat at the table and refused tea. He produced a bottle of water and began sipping it, leaning back in his chair, stretched out.

  Ben suddenly realised that Nikolas was watching his reaction to Jackson. Ben lowered his gaze, but heard Nikolas rise. He brushed past Ben on the way to the fridge and whispered, “You’re out of luck. He’s not gay.”

  There’s rage and then there’s…well, rage. Ben had been about to respond to the infuriating gay implication (still seething about the image of himself in a yellow dress, being leered at—or laughed at, which was worse—by gay men in a sleazy bar somewhere), when Nikolas told him to take Radulf out for a walk—that he needed to discuss things with the others Ben couldn’t hear.

  For some reason, the man called Tim rose swiftly from his place and declared he’d go with him—that he wasn’t really any use either for what was going to be discussed. Nikolas didn’t object, so Ben found himself walking alongside Tim Watson to the canal. Tim knew the way…assured Ben they�
��d gone there together with the dog many, many times. He even knew a good pub and suggested he treat Ben to lunch.

  “Don’t take it to heart—how he speaks to you. He’s sort of got into a habit with it because it infuriates you and he likes annoying you.” Clearly this Tim person knew him well enough to read his body language. Interesting.

  “Why does he fucking want to annoy me all the time?”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t really know, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was his defence mechanism—but for God’s sake don’t tell him I told you that! Jesus. Again, if I had to take a guess, I’d say he’s terrified he won’t get you back. Nikolas doesn’t do fear, so he does aggression instead. He can’t be aggressive with you, so he’s dialled it down to being annoying.”

  “Bloody hell. But I’m still here! He can’t lose me! I’m not a sodding dog!”

  Tim nodded sadly. “Yes, but the Ben he wants back is the one who knows him. That’s the thing. The rest of us only know bits and pieces about him—Kate probably knows the most—but you know it all—or we assume you do. Who he is. What he—and, honestly, I can’t tell you any more.”

  “So you’ve had the speaking moratorium put on you as well.”

  “I don’t know what happened in Lancashire anyway. Michael won’t tell me. He never tells me anything. Well, about what he does, anyway.”

  Lancashire? Michael? Another bloody ANGEL employee? “Ask Squeezy at an opportune moment—oh, like when you’re fucking maybe? He knows.”

  Tim glanced over. “Squeezy is Michael. That’s his name. And do you have a problem with me and Michael? Because you were the one who introduced us.”

  Ben wrinkled his nose and didn’t reply. It was infuriating having someone know your life better than you knew it yourself.

  Tim seemed willing to let Ben’s implication slide, given his condition, for he immediately asked, “How is it going, anyway? Have you regained some memory?”