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It seems with every word Finlay speaks that Danny gets more and more nervous. We’re in class, not on the island, and that makes things… different.
Through a sigh, Finlay mutters, “Danny, just fuckin’ kiss me, aye?”
Danny blinks. He darts a glance at Rory, whose face remains cold and impassive at the other end of the classroom. Casting around for a semblance of friendliness, he turns to me, and I give him a big, wide smile. It seems to encourage him; he leans forward, his hands gently placed on Finlay’s shoulders, and his mouth shakily angled toward Finlay’s.
I know they’ve kissed before. Recently, when Finlay had bargained a kiss for nine packets of chocolate buttons, when kissing Danny had been worth it for the bounty of chocolate alone. And of course I saw them the night of the school dance, sharing alcohol and secrets and spit. But there’s something about this kiss that’s singularly different, as if neither of them has kissed not just each other but anyone at all. When Finlay meets Danny’s lips, Danny’s fingers pinch into Finlay’s shoulders. It’s as if Danny needs Finlay’s solid bulk to keep him steady, to stop him from swooning. Already he’s sagging into him, and as the kiss descends into unholy filth, his body only seems to topple forward into Finlay’s arms.
Whenever Danny kisses someone, he surrenders to them with his entire soul.
Sounds of slickness echo through the room. I give my lips an unconscious lick, watching them avidly. Rory shifts by the wall, briefly attracting my attention, the heel of his hand soothingly pressed against his cock. When he catches me staring, he raises a pale blond eyebrow until I’m forced to look away.
Someone moans, a sound that reverberates down my spine and straight into my core. My fingers are clasped tight together in my lap, knucklebones firmly weaved to the point of pain. If Danny’s willing to surrender his entire soul with a kiss, Finlay does everything to seize it: his hands scrabble into Danny’s neatly parted brown hair, seeming to delight in destroying its straight edges. He clutches Danny’s school tie, wrapping the end around his fist and using it to drag Danny closer to his hot, penetrating mouth. Their noses give an audible bump. Danny gasps, and Finlay’s tongue sweetly ruins him.
Finlay is a lust-powered demon, here to fuck up the innocence of nice boys.
“I think,” Rory announces silkily from the wall, “that’s enough. You’ve proved my point.”
It takes a belated moment for Finlay to pull away. He blows out a soft breath, eyelids fluttering dazedly, mouth slickly obscene. “Yourpoint?”
“That you’d do literally anything I say and credit yourself with the idea.”
Finlay’s green eyes narrow as he leans against Danny’s forehead. “Fine. Here’s something yedidnaesay,” he snarks, and locks his gaze on me. He steps away from Danny, dropping his rolled-up tie so that it lands outside the confines of his school blazer. Danny’s still gripping onto the balls of Finlay’s shoulders, which seems to amuse Finlay. For whatever reason, he allows Danny’s fumbling hands to remain in position, as he curls his finger and I find myself compelled to stand.
He caresses my face, flattening my mass of hair beneath a warm, comfortable palm. His thumb strokes my lower lip, pulling down on it to touch the slippery pink flesh inside. “God, I’ve missed this,” Finlay whispers, soft enough that only Danny and I can hear. I gaze up into Finlay’s darkening green eyes, as behind him stands Danny, looking so out of it and like there’s no chance he’ll ever give up his spot clutching Finlay like a lifeline.
“I’ll take yer ideas,” Finlay murmurs, turning back to Rory, his breath hot on the dip of my throat, and his eyes issuing a direct challenge, “and I’ll build on them tae make them better.That’sprogress.”
And before either Rory or I can reply, Finlay grabs the back of my neck and crashes his mouth to mine. I surge forward, meeting him with a soft little moan that flutters high in my throat. His fingers are a firm pressure securing me into position, ensuring I focus only on his delectable mouth. And as he ravishes me in front of the others, the fingers pinching above the ball of my spine seem like a bonus luxury: there’s no way I’m going to look elsewhere when Finlay marks me as his possession, as the toy he wants to be seen by everyone playing with. As the toy he wants Rory to know he has an equal share in.
When he pulls away, my mind is scrambled. I feel as unsteady as Danny had looked and my eyelashes can’t stop fluttering. The world spins. Finlay, God love him, but for all his other talents and interests, the main one seems to be that the boy cankiss.
He runs his gaze up and down me, a small devious grin cocked across the side of his face as he takes me in, clearly considering his all-consuming kiss a job well done. With his querying glance at Rory, I just about make out through my lust-drunk daze the incline of Rory’s head, tilted as if to praise Finlay that his kisses had been well played.
I feel played with. I feel like a toy. I also don’t hate it.
“So what became of you in Edinburgh?” Rory asks as Finlay approaches him again. He studies Finlay intently, waiting for information, for updates. Finlay, however, doesn’t seem inclined to share. “You aren’t going to say?”
“No’ wi’oot reward,” Finlay murmurs. He pauses, his head tilted to the side, and glances between all of us. “Ye may have figured, but I was very, very horny. Somethin’ about absence, distance — makes the dick grow bigger?”
Rory shoots him a skeptical look, as if trying to figure out who’s playing who here. “Yes, all that bureaucracy.Reallygets the blood pumping.”
“Oh, trust me, there was a lot o’ blood pumpin’. And other things. I mean, me and Luke…” He drifts off, giving me a pointed glance as he says his next words. “Such a drafty wee safe hoose. Only wan bed in oor room. The thick o’ winter on the East coast, right by the North Sea… Ye know how it is. Freezin’ cauld. The two o’ us shiverin’ beneath blankets. Easier just tae strip aff, get naked. Ye get so much hotter, quicker, wi’ body heat.”
Beside me, Danny snorts. “You’re making stuff up. Luke would never.”
“Whit, share his bed wi’ a commoner?” Finlay rolls his eyes. “Believe whit ye want but we got up tae a’ sorts.”
“And conveniently for you, Luke isn’t here to corroborate your tales. Forgive me for saying,” Rory interjects dryly, “but I somewhat doubt the safe house became a shag palace under MacKechnie’s nose. He would never stand for that sort of thing.”
I stay quiet as my thoughts run counter to Rory’s. When I’d been there, MacKechnie had seemed to understand the necessity of our reunion and had allowed us the space to retreat and reconnect, to enact our deepest, most essential desires. Neither Rory nor Danny had been there. They wouldn’t have known how inter-locked the three of us had been in the face of fear and grief. And it’s me who Finlay speaks to, as if extending a bridge to me back to that time, born of dreams and nightmares, perhaps because he knows I’m the only one who’ll believe him.
So I don’t doubt things did happen, especially considering the long, longing note the three of us left on. I just wish I had a way to have witnessed it.
“So whit, ye’re actually holdin’ yerself back formarriage?” Finlay asks Rory with a tilt of his head. He looks as bewildered as the rest of us. “Ye know ye dinnae huvtae prove yerself like this.”
“Maybe I want to.”
“Haud yerself back? Who the hell wants tae daethat?” With a pointed glance at Rory’s crotch, his hand hovers in front of Rory’s growing erection and says, “Whit if I just…?”
