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“Not if you’re part of the in-group, no.” I recall Finlay’s words at Hogmanay. “Not if you’re sad and lonely and think these twits are your actual friends. Not if you have a superiority complex and believe they’re right.” I notice Rory’s smirk and raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“Well, quite. Look at you, learning.”
I roll my eyes.
“That wasn’t any apology,” Rory murmurs. “Like Arabella’s, it was an assertion of purity. I’m picturing their panic when their brainwashed cultists turned on them. The guy approved of Belly’s message that the Queen was murderedandbrought up The Daily Toot. The freakout must have been delicious. These media-whores turning on each other, ‘I’m the purest, I’m the purest,’ throwing each other to the wolves in a panic, throwing the whole bloody lot of them in the bin. Fuck the ratings and self-flagellate. It’s every man for himself in Benji’s new order.”
“What did you make of Arabella’s speech?” I ask Rory, who just shrugs.
“‘Let down the community… must do better… take time to reflect…’ Clichéd shite. She said what she had to. But no one’s listening. They just wanted to see her in the dirt.”
“She gave up her Head Girl position.”
“I know,” Rory muses. “I don’t know what that means. I’mexpected to take onherworkload, too?”
“Did she even do anything?”
In a dry voice, Rory answers, “She polished her badgereallywell. No, I guess not. I was the one who went out there and spoke to the students to see what they wanted from Lochkelvin. She just sat back, bragged about being Head Girl at every opportunity, and complained about the very people she was supposed to serve. She also tried installing rules to get them behaving the way she wanted.”
“Do you think the news will report it? Her apology?” Danny asks, looking baffled. “Since she’s now famous and all.”
“No. And she’s not famous — this is a blip. The press only cares about the outrage of wrongdoing, not the stupid fool trying to make amends on the other end. Offense on page 1, apology on page 94 if you’re lucky. It’s the way it’s always been. Anyway,” Rory says, sighing heavily as he snaps off the radio, “I’m bored of the lot of them.” He pats his lap. “Come sit with me, little saint.”
I do as Rory says, stepping away from my hard wooden chair to the warm comfort of Rory. He wraps his arms around my waist, curling me close to his chest, and I press a soft kiss to his cheek. Danny watches us avidly from the other side of the desk, a misty look in his eyes.
“No reading tonight,” Rory murmurs, fingers gently running along my lips. “No newspapers. No textbooks. Just us.”
I can get behind that. Danny, too, instantly shuts his physics textbook and leans his chin on his hand. Beneath me, Rory’s erection gently unfurls. I wriggle my hips on top of him, striking his hardening cock with my rear, until Rory holds me tight enough that I cannot move at all.
“Shhh,” he whispers into my ear, causing warm shivers to scatter down my spine. I watch dazedly as his pale, spidery hand curves around the front of my thigh, settling against the dark purple plaid of my school skirt. “Let’s make tonight about you,” he says, and slowly his fingers extend to the hem of my skirt before curling underneath it.
Swallowing, my arms cling around Rory’s neck. Danny is opposite us, staring at me in fascination, and all I can do is woozily meet his gaze, the world shrinking to his adoring brown eyes and Rory’s teasing fingers. When Danny’s hand dips low beneath the table, Rory’s voice strikes like a whip: “Don’t even think about it, Hamilton.”
My eyes flutter shut while Danny’s flash wide open. I concentrate on the soft circles Rory draws on the skin of my inner thigh, across my thick dark tights, and steadily inching upward. It takes a monumental effort not to shift against the hard growing mass beneath me, not to eke heavenly male groans from Rory’s sin of a mouth. The bridge of his nose slants against the side of my cheek as he listens out for every upturn in my breath. I feel his pink pouting mouth spread into a wicked smile across my jaw as my breath hitches, his fingers slope upward and against me, and his gentleness unveils my clit.
“Please,” I whisper senselessly. I squirm on his lap, and again Rory tightens his grip around me, softly chiding. The pads of his fingers don’t ever leave my clit, spinning their magic until my stomach clenches and I can’t tell if I’m trembling or if the rest of the world is.
Compared to the other night, when I’d been stuffed and dripping with fingers and cock and toys, I split apart in seconds. It’s as if I’m rocketing, soaring across the sky, as my spirit quivers and explodes in waves of shimmering gentle magic. I screw my eyes shut, pushing my forehead against Rory’s as I rock inside his arms. This is what the best of the world feels like, I think softly, sleepily, to myself, as Rory’s arms tighten around me and he presses sound, reverent kisses to my face. This is what makes us able to fight. Our secret weapon.
Eventually, as my trembling subsides, I gaze deeply into Rory’s silver eyes. I press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his lips, which he returns coolly, pretending to be unaffected and in control, despite the giveaway jerk of his needy cock at the base of my thighs. And even after coming, he tells me, as before, to stop trying to make him come, and his words from the other night return to me, that he’s saving himself. Saving himself? I don’t know why he insists on this, even as I plead in soft, hungry whispers, that all I want, allwewant, is to watch him shatter. To drink him up and swallow him whole and reward him with licks and kisses. But as fondly as Rory strokes my face and meets Danny’s eager brown eyes, the answer is always no.
“Fin would make you give in,” I mutter, vicious and spiteful after claiming Rory with kisses I’d poisoned, trying to make them as seductive and toe-curling as possible. But Rory just laughs at the thought and revels in the filth of my kisses. “You’d fight and he’d pounce and you’d never say no to him.”
“I would do no such thing,” Rory remarks loftily. “I’ve spent most of my life saying no to Fin, and indeed enjoy doing so.”
“Fine. Luke, then, holding you down and urging you to come.” It’s an improvisation, and I’m surprised by the sudden insistence of Rory’s cock against my thighs as it leaps, as though charmed, by my words. I blink down at him in surprise.
“Don’t you dare,” Rory murmurs, and I’m fascinated by the warning threat behind his words as I gaze at him, at the subtle blush warming Rory’s cheeks. With this revelation, I almost stop breathing. So it’s true. His indulgence of Luke goes beyond mere respect, mere chivalry, loyalty, or duty. It isn’t just friendship or being a Musketeer or a chief.
He has athingfor Luke.
“Are you joking?” Danny’s mouth is hanging open. “I was kicked out all those years ago — because you had the hots for a prince? I mean, I’d always suspected — but really?!”
“I have nothing to say on the matter,” Rory declares loudly, and slides me off his lap. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s the most flustered I’ve seen Rory in a very long time. “I need a distraction, please. Of the non-sexual variety.Urgently.”
Through my growing, disbelieving smirk, I say, “Well… I brought my cards,” and draw from my blazer pocket the tiny pack of cards I won weeks ago from a Christmas cracker. Recently, I’ve taken to using them almost like tarot cards, shuffling them meditatively and pulling one out at random. Pinning all my hopes on an ace that never arrives, usually being rewarded with threes and fours.
“I’d love to,” Rory says, his pale face still adorned with its two bright spots of pink, as he glances at the pack, “but we don’t all have arms the size of ants.”
