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It was possibly time to drain and refill, given the spills that frequently went into this water.
Ben had returned from the cottage decidedly cheerful for some reason, and no nagging had been done all evening. They’d ordered in a Chinese and polished off a tub of ice cream between them, and now they’d begun on the wine. Aleksey preferred theHaagan Daz. He didn’t drink alcohol to be civilized or social. He drank it for oblivion, and just having one bottle available upset his equilibrium.
Ben wasn’t making much effort below at the moment, just languidly kissing him, catching the subsequent spills of wine and licking them away; deliberately, as far as Aleksey could tell, not squeezing, lifting, or otherwise manipulating, as anyone had a right to assume a man who sat himself down on your cock might do.
He wanted to tell Ben his great news, but for the first time ever didn’t want to slip this in under the cover of sex. Although this had been an incredibly successful strategy over the years he’d known Benjamin Rider, it wasn’t the way he wanted this news to be received: a vague,yeah okay, and then back to the more interesting activity. Nor had he introduced it over dinner, another time when Ben was always utterly engrossed in his own concerns, guzzling, and it was therefore easy to get theyeah okayresponse to whatever it was he’d done or was contemplating doing.
No, he wanted Ben to really listen, to think about it before he spoke, to…like the idea.
Why would he not?
Who would not like to be told their boyfriend had just bought an island?
Well, Ben might not. And Aleksey had to admit Ben had some justification for being wary of anything that upset the current status quo.
As they had recently discussed together, lying in bed beforethe incident, anything they tried to do outside of the absolute minimum of daily living tended to see them ending up in very odd and unlikely situations. Despite this, Ben had still gone ahead and planned a holiday for them, and what had happened? He’d nearly died (and been stabbed), Ben had (sort of) chipped his elbow (Ben was making more of this injury than was strictly justified to makehimfeel guilty), Radulf had almost hurt a paw, and PB had nearly been killed by vivisectionists…
And they’d never even got to go on their holiday.
And here he was, about to announce something that he’d not discussed with Ben, had not sought his agreement on, and which seemed, even to himself, a little…unreal. How likely was it that when he started thinking about buying an island (for whatever reason), his ex had suddenly had a perfect one for sale? There was only one place where Aleksey could think that something like that might happen.
Real, not real? Alive, dead? Heaven or…the other…?
‘Do you think I could swivel on it?’
‘Huh?’
Ben smirked at him. ‘Thought that would bring you back. I was thinking, like a pole dancer, I could…’ He made a little twisty motion with one finger. ‘Around on you.’
Aleksey tipped his head to one side. ‘Try it and see.’
Ben very carefully lifted one leg. He was supple, Aleksey had to give him that; for a six-foot-four man with more muscle than sense, Ben Rider-Mikkelsen could get his legs into very interesting positions.
Aleksey hollowed his abdomen back a little to give him some space, and the foot slid past on the slippery water. In a trice, Ben’s other leg had moved over and he was facing away, still impressively impaled.
Aleksey laughed. ‘Well, this is sociable.’
‘I wasn’t planning on talking to you.’ Ben put his hands down to the edge of the seat and slowly began to lift himself just enough, but not too much.
‘You do get that pole dancing is only possible because of the impressive rigidity of the…pole. Fuck…’ Aleksey stretched his arms out, martyred on the extreme pleasure of having to do nothing more but watch Ben Rider-Mikkelsen’s buttocks slid up and down upon him.
Suddenly, Ben shifted position, leaning back against him. Aleksey’s arms wrapped around the powerful chest without his conscious volition. He crushed Ben to him, breathing deeply into his hair, nibbling around his neck and ear, and then one hand was captured and taken lower.
Once more, they pleasured Ben together, just as thoroughly ashewas being taken care of deep inside.
* * *
In the afterglow of orgasm, and in the knowledge that in this new dreamtime no more was needed or wanted from either of them because they had something different, somethingbetter, they lay loosely entwined together in the big bed, Aleksey smoking, and Ben drawing small, imaginary patterns on Aleksey’s skin. It was the perfect time.
‘I’ve bought an island.’
The finger stilled. Ben glanced up. He was frowning, as if trying to translate this or puzzle it through, but eventually he just reared back a little and echoed, ‘An island?’
‘Yes. From Phillipa’s family. That’s what she wanted to see me about today. They needed the money; I wanted an island, so it was a rather surreal meeting. I’m still not entirely sure I was actually there. Holding it in a church didn’t help.’
Ben seemed confused. ‘Why?’
It was obvious to Aleksey, but as he hadn’t shared his belief with Ben that he might be dead, and that therefore holding meetings in churches made a lot of sense, because presumably they were the portal through which you entered and left this state, he didn’t elaborate. ‘So, what do you think?’
