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Before he can complete this unfiltered thought, Rory slams his mouth against Finlay and the sentence dwindles into a soft muffled groan. My navel yanks at the sight and Danny gazes at them in fascination, his partially opened jaw propped on the heel of his hand. Rory’s fingers slide into Finlay’s long, messy hair and tug furiously, clutching bunches in his fist like reins. This isn’t a sweet, swift kiss, as I’d shared with Finlay on the stairway. This isn’t starbursts of lust, of being cherished and loved. It’s rough and angry andmale. It’s a flood of spiking testosterone. It’s adrenaline and chemicals. It’s teeth colliding and lips being bitten. It’s two pairs of mouths gnashing at each other and feasting in a room that’s quickly becoming stifling, and neither Danny nor I can look away.
When Rory breaks from Finlay, he says in a strange, roughened voice, “I’ve missed you.” His kisses grow softer as he plants them across the bridge of Finlay’s nose. “So impossibly much, you clever fucking imbecile.”
I smile.Thisis what’s been missing.Thisis why the energy in the castle’s been so out of control lately. Finlay’s the only one Rory’s able to reveal his real self around. He’s the only one for whom Rory coarsens his language and hardens his tongue, allowing himself to be that little bit more obscene, that little bit more imperfect and human, and a whole lot less uptight.
As if to make up for lost time, Rory kisses his way down Finlay’s exposed throat, pausing above the knot of his school tie to suckle soundly at his Adam’s apple. Finlay’s head thunks against the wooden door jamb, like he needs the stability. “Ye know I’ll leave mair often if this is the welcome I’ll get, aye?” His voice is vibrating, distorted by the suction. He blows out a shaky breath, bringing his fingers reverently to the dark blond sweep falling across Rory’s eyes, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “Spectacle,” he murmurs dazedly. “Aye,I’mthe one that’s the spectacle…”
“Take it off,” Rory says, turning away from Finlay.
Finlay stares at him like he might have misheard. “Whit?”
“All of it.” Rory gestures vaguely to his uniform. He doesn’t seem able to meet Finlay’s green eyes, like even being in his presence is enough for his body to betray him. “Take it all off. There are amillionthings I want to do to you.”
39
Finlay’s eyes widen, and he locks his gaze with me. “I thought this room was a no-go zone? Nae sex, that’s whit we agreed — and byagree, I meanforced intae—”
I shrug. “It kinda changed when…”
“The toy,” Danny explains, and suddenly I’m transported to that night, me on all fours on the wooden desk, penetrated by an endlessly vibrating toy and Rory’s knowing fingers. Swallowing Danny’s seed and begging for the mercy of my long-teased release. Quivering, aching, stuffed, and glorious.
Finlay’s eyes light up. “Naw,” he breathes. “Ye did that in here?Together?” Finlay looks like he dares not believe it. “Oh my God, I cannaewaittae tell Luke.”
“What were you doing,” Rory murmurs suddenly, his hands stroking up the jagged zipper of Finlay’s leather jacket and attracting Finlay’s intrigued gaze, “with Luke? We got your messages…” His eyes flick up to meet Finlay’s. “Were they real?”
But Finlay just shrugs. “Why ruin the mystery, Big Mr. Boss Man? Ye imagined it was real — and so it was.”
“Is he okay? Luke? What was all that about MacKechnie being ill?”
“Nothin’, really. Just the cold. He was being very dramatic about it. And Luke is — well, I want tae tell ye everythin’, and I will, but first, ye need tae put that stuck-up English mouth tae better use against mine once mair.” When Rory just stares at him in stubborn defiance, his gray eyes piercing and bright, Finlay adds in a dry voice, “Or so I humbly request?”
“Kiss Danny.”
This takes Finlay by surprise. Beside me, Danny blinks a few dozen times in the space of three seconds.
“Whit?” Finlay asks, clearly expecting Rory’s mouth to be on his by now.
“I didn’t stutter, Fraser,” Rory says, full of icy politeness, and Finlay’s lip curls in understanding.
“Oh, okay.” Finlay strolls past Rory, making sure to barge into his shoulder. “I get it. Whit, am I too cocky for ye?” He spreads out his palms, gesturing to himself as he walks away from Rory. “Too swaggerin’ city boy? Need tae be put back in my place in your castle?”
“Kiss Danny.”
“Why does he have to say ‘Kiss Danny’ like he’s telling him to tidy his room,” Danny grumbles. “Kissing me isn’t a punishment.”
“No,” I say agreeably. “It isn’t.” And beside me, Danny looks quietly heartened.
“Ye know I’ll kiss whoever ye tell me,” Finlay informs Rory. “I’ll kiss anyone and make ye wish it were you instead.” When he stops at the desk Danny and I are sitting around, he glances down at a singularly nervous Danny. “Look,” he murmurs out of Rory’s listening range. “I know there’s this thing between us a’, and, aye, it’s a wee bit mad, and I dinnae even know if this is somethin’ you personally want wi’me, but the way I see it, that prick over there is enjoyin’ his smug little Hitler act, so I figure if we enjoy it ten times harder… ye get whit I’m sayin’?”
Danny doesn’t seem to get what Finlay’s saying; indeed, he looks as bewildered as I feel. I mean, I really don’t recall the part of the Second World War when Hitler commanded his generals to passionately make out with each other, but I figure that maybe if ithadhappened they they could all have got over themselves for five seconds and stopped being warmongering bastards.
But before I can voice any of this, Finlay scratches the side of his head as the silence between him and Danny further extends into awkwardness. The cuff of his jacket droops toward his elbow, and I stare hard at the fresh red rings around it. “Your wrist,” I mouth, horrified, and Finlay pulls sharply at his cuff until it conceals the majority of his hand. He shoots me a warning look and shakes his head, before smoothing on a smile I know isn’t real.
He plants his covered palm onto the desk, leaning over us like he’s eager for the answer. “Whit d’ye say, Danny Boy? I’ll no’ even bargain yer kiss for chocolate buttons this time.”
“Er. Sure, I guess?”
“See, that’s exactly the kind o’ unbridled enthusiasm I’m after from folks at the prospect o’ kissing me,” Finlay says cheerfully, and behind him Rory breaks out of his icy facade to give a soft snort of laughter. As Danny hesitantly stands, Finlay plows on with a conspiring look at Rory: “Now, I’m thinkin’ it needs tae be a big yin. Ye know? No’ some wee peck. A big fuckin’ smacker, just tae prove we wullnae be cowed by him.”
