Page 29 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

Lachlan couldn’t smile at him like that if he tried. ‘Always here.’

‘You promise?’

Lachlan can feel the pleasure sweetening, brightening within as all those chemicals hit a certain pitch and his body rolls in loving excitement, and he’s not fucking coming unless Jules does. He has a reputation to undo.

Five Seconds Flat, he can come back from it.

‘I promise.’ He kisses Jules harder, clinging so tightly his fingers paint bruises into pale, soft skin he’s paid to protect. ‘Always.’

‘You’re mine forever,’ Jules cries out, needy and crackly. He’s so fucking close. ‘Always mine, mine, my Lachlan, my bodyguard!’

Lachlan gives in to the orgasm, falls right into it like a waterfall, and fucks himself deep as his cock spurts what his body wrings from love, friction and danger. And fuck, but it really is so dangerous. They should know better, he should know better, but love conquers all, including common fucking sense, it seems.

He keeps going, doesn’t lose the rhythm until Jules’ nails break skin, leaving crescent moons in the back of his neck, and Lachlan basks in the rolling waves that rock through Jules’ body, rapture and bliss, a riotous big bang inside the boy he loves. Maybe all of space and time is one big fucking orgasm, the way veins mimic tree roots and the overlooked complexity of an iris mimics galaxies and—

‘Lachlan.’ Jules is kissing his face, holding it up, giggling softly with what breath he has to spare. ‘Come back to me.’

‘Sorry,’ he mutters, nuzzling Jules, remembers he has a body and a brain and hands, and his bare arse is exposed to the world, so he tucks himself in and kisses Jules in apology for going… wherever he went. ‘Love you.’

‘I know you do.’ Jules plays with his hair in the last few moments they have before they’ll be missed. November rain can only hide them so much. Lachlan can’t stop pressing small kisses all over him, wherever he can. He bends to lift him higher. He likes it this way, even though Jules is taller than him now anyway. They kiss under the tree, smiling like idiots until it bubbles into laughter shared back and forth in kisses.

They’re drenched. It’s cold.

Lachlan’s too warm inside to feel it.

Jules pats his shoulder, and Lachlan sets him down. It marks the return of something resembling normality between them.

Lachlan reattaches his rig, checks in with Danya, who gives eight bells like always, and Jules runs his hands through his hair, back against the trunk, content to watch Lachlan for a few more indulgent moments. The world is petrichor and earth and the cologne Jules uses now, which Lachlan tastes on his lips. He prefers his skin, but the smell lasts longer when they’re apart.

‘You ready to go back?’

‘For now, yeah.’ Sometimes the way Jules looks at him makes Lachlan’s upper rib cage ache the way only broken bones can, but they’re not broken right now. They’re whole. This is one of those times, phantom pain coming and going, leaving a trace of shimmering euphoria in its wake. ‘But I’ll need more protecting later, I think. Lots and lots.’

‘It’s your world, baby.’ Lachlan winks at Jules. ‘Happy birthday.’

✴

‘Charlie Foxtrot,’ Danya greets evenly, Mimi perched on his shoulders. Their hands are messy with paint, all shades of the liquid rainbow. Danya has a bright red streak up the side of his jaw. Lachlan is dropping Jules off in the Cove before going to try and speak to Carrigan again. He wants the kids with Danya at all times, kids being Silly and Mimi. ‘Good workout?’

Jules shrugs. ‘It was OK. Hey, Mimikins! Did you have fun with your paints?’ Danya lowers her off his shoulders with the rough confidence born of repetition. She is often on his shoulders lately, says she likes to be high in the sky like a real Myna bird and that she can see Mari’s tower from there. ‘Show me what you made.’

‘OK, come on, then,’ she tells Jules, dragging him by the hand as if he didn’t just ask to see. ‘I painted him for you, Jewel. Did it real good!’

She paints all of them, their whole family, everyone but Penhalyx.

Danya watches them go.

He’ll join them in a minute, stand guard.

Lachlan trusts that the kids, Savannah and Jules are safe with him.

‘I’m gonna go talk to Carrigan.’

‘Be careful.’

‘I will.’

‘Party later?’