Waking the Dead (3 page)
“I can grill them, but that’s about it,” John agreed as they sat down at an empty table, the surface still gleaming from a recent swipe with a damp cloth. “Nick’s the one who gets adventurous, and if you catch him a good sized salmon or two, we’ll invite some people over to share it with us. I’d like you to meet some of my family; you didn’t really get the chance last time, did you? Just my mother, really.”
Who had fallen for Josh immediately and fussed over him with an indulgent smile on her face that Nick had never had directed at
him
. Anne and he got on well enough these days, but they were never going to be close. In her early seventies, she was still an attractive woman, rejuvenated by her second, and very happy, marriage, but her opinion of his and John’s relationship had mellowed as far as acceptance and no further.
“How is she? And Mr. Baird?” Josh asked politely.
“They’re both well,” John told him. “
“She made this amazing dessert,” Josh said, between sips of his coffee. “Soft and spongy and incredibly sweet with…custard, maybe?”
“Treacle pudding,” John said, nodding. “Aye, she still makes that.”
“My mom thought I was crazy for liking it.” Josh pushed his hair out of his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “She thought it was too squishy or something.”
“Some of the traditional Scottish foods can take a little getting used to,” Nick said. He’d gotten used to all the ones he ever expected to within a couple of years, and now there were just a handful of dishes he knew he’d never like no matter how many times he tried them. He’d perfected the art of choking them down to be polite on the rare occasion he was served one of them while a guest at someone else’s table, but he also usually complained about it bitterly to John later, in private.
“I like trying new things,” Josh said. “As long as they aren’t completely freaky, like sea anemone sushi.” At the look of horror on John’s face, he laughed. “I know! There are some things that just aren’t meant to be food. You have to wonder who looked at them and thought, ‘Gee, this slimy stuff on the bottom of this rock…it just might be edible!’ Wouldn’t it be better to eat grass?”
“The sheep would think so,” John said dryly. “You’re safe enough; the most exotic we get doesn’t compare to muck like that. And I’ll bet they charge you the price of a decent steak for it, too.”
“More,” Josh agreed. He finished his coffee. “Do we have to go soon? I don’t want us to miss the last ferry home or something.”
Nick checked his watch and exchanged a glance with John, who nodded. “We should get going. You’ve had a long journey, but it’s not over yet.”
Chapter Two
The house had been quiet for a good half hour; John was in bed, lying back against the pillows with just a sheet as covers. It was nice, this time of year, not needing layers of blankets to keep warm. Across the hall, he could hear water running in the bathroom as Nick brushed his teeth. A minute later, the toilet flushed, then the bedroom door opened and Nick slipped inside.
“It’s weird having to shut the door,” Nick said. He was wearing the cotton sleep trousers he preferred as well as a T-shirt, something he rarely bothered with in the summertime.
“I don’t think Josh is going to be scarred for life if he catches sight of your bare arse,” John said. He yawned; it had been one long traffic jam after another on the way home, and he hated crawling along breathing in fumes. Josh had fallen asleep in the back seat, only to stumble into the house, and after a valiant attempt to stay awake long enough to eat something, he’d ended up going to bed after no more than a few bites of the casserole Janet had left for them. “But you’ll be hot if you go to bed dressed like that.”
“You just prefer me naked,” Nick said. It wasn’t as if John could argue with that, after all; it was true enough. Even after all their years together, there was rarely a moment in which he didn’t view Nick’s naked form with interest and admiration.
He watched as Nick undressed, draping the trousers at the foot of the bed, no doubt so that they could easily be grabbed in the morning. Time had been good to Nick; the man looked much the same as when they’d met. Oh, he weighed a few pounds more -- weight he’d sorely needed to gain as far as John was concerned -- and there were streaks of silver in his dark hair, but he didn’t look a bit the worse for the changes.
“I’m not going to chance walking around with my ass bare whether it’d scar him or not.” Nick slipped into bed, turning onto his side to face John. “I still haven’t recovered from the shock of finding Caitrin on the couch that morning, and I don’t know if she’ll
ever
recover.”
John didn’t even try to hold back his grin. “Well, he’s not likely to walk in on us now; I can hear him snoring.” He moved closer to Nick, both of them settling down into a loose, familiar embrace, and kissed him lightly, tasting mint and beneath it a hint of the nightcap they’d had. Whisky and mint didn’t mix that well, but John didn’t care, not when underneath he could taste Nick. John kissed Nick again, teasing his mouth open with a well-aimed caress across his backside that made Nick’s lips part in a soundless gasp.
That was one of the advantages of a long-term relationship; John knew all of Nick’s vulnerable spots, and a fingertip run lightly down the crease of his arse was most definitely one of them. Nick was equally knowledgeable about
his
weaknesses, but John never felt inclined to complain about that.
“Mm. It’s nice to be in bed early.” Nick’s lips found John’s ear and brushed against it.
Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for them to have an early night, although they were more likely to do so in the wintertime, when the long, cold nights stretched out before them and the idea of being curled up around each other beneath a pile of covers was appealing in more ways than one. Tonight, with Josh safely arrived, Nick seemed more relaxed than he had for the past week or more; he pressed against John and settled a hand at the back of his neck as they kissed repeatedly, taking their time about it.
John had been wondering if having his -- much -- younger brother around would make a difference to Nick and had been more or less resigned to a couple of weeks when his day would end with no more than a few quiet kisses. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t make up for it once Josh had left, and it wasn’t as if they didn’t go a few days without making love quite often anyway. Summer was busy, and there were nights when John stumbled to bed late and exhausted, in much the same state as Josh.
He wasn’t tired now, though, and neither was Nick, judging by the way the kisses were increasing in duration, the heat between them building. Slow, sweet kisses, their lips parting briefly only when they caught their breath, until John broke away, almost reluctantly, but needing more. He dragged his mouth down the side of Nick’s neck, pausing to kiss or nip at it gently, wanting to feel Nick shudder with arousal against him.
“John.” It was barely whispered, as if Nick were determined to be quiet, but the eager warmth of his erection against John’s thigh was all the answer required to the question John no longer needed to ask. Nick slid his hand down along John’s spine, then cupped his arse. “You’re not too tired?” he asked softly. “I know it was a long day, and you had to do all that driving…”
Nick had never completely recovered from his fears of being behind the wheel of a car -- he drove willingly enough most of the time, but if he was feeling worried or under stress, it was the first thing to go. Luckily, they lived on such a small island it hardly mattered.
John made a small scoffing noise and punctuated it with another kiss, this time on Nick’s shoulder, the exposed skin cool at first, then warming under the press of his mouth. “Do I feel tired to you?” he asked. He captured Nick’s hand, drew it between their bodies, and guided it to his own erection, then sighed when Nick’s fingers curled around it and squeezed gently. “Never too tired for this.”
It wasn’t strictly true, but it was true enough in spirit; there was never a time when he didn’t want this with Nick, even if sometimes sleep seduced him first.
Nick touched him slowly, fingertips tracing his length and around the sensitive head. “I want to suck you,” he murmured, then slid down, breath warm against John’s thigh before his lips closed around him.
“Christ,” John said quietly; the hot, wet suction felt so good. Sometimes Nick would forge ahead without patience, driving John to the edge and over in a minute’s time or even less, leaving him wrung out and gasping, but it didn’t seem this was to be one of those nights. Instead, Nick was slow about it, lips moving down to the base and back to the crown. John’s toes curled and he let his head tip back, eyes closed, focused on nothing but the incredible sensation.
His hand found its way to Nick’s hair, and he stroked it. The strands slipped across his fingers like heavy silk, echoing the way Nick’s tongue was sliding across his hard, heated skin in languid, thoughtful laps as if Nick had forgotten what John’s cock tasted like and wanted to remind himself.
John kept his hips still with an effort, knowing that this time Nick didn’t want him to do anything but accept what Nick wanted to give him. It had been a difficult lesson to learn; that he could take pleasure and not necessarily give it back, and have that be a gift in a way. Nothing in John’s past, before he met Nick, had involved anything like this. He’d experienced encounters designed to be mutually satisfying, but not from any underlying desire to make his partner happy; he’d done to them what he wanted them to do for him, and vice versa.
Nick, though, just loved bringing John to the point where his mouth couldn’t form words, just helpless sounds of pleasure and need, where his body was a strung-out, quivering ache of desire. And if afterward, John turned to him, still panting, with pleasure sparking through him in tiny aftershocks, Nick would arch up for a single touch and come, as if what he’d done to John had been nearly all he’d needed.
“Love you,” John whispered into the darkness behind his eyes, wanting to say it while he still could. He moved his hand and traced the corner of Nick’s mouth, where the skin was taut, stretched wide by his cock. “God, Nick --”
Nick made a small sound of pleasure and increased the suction; John inhaled sharply, feeling his balls draw up tight. He settled his hand at Nick’s shoulder and squeezed, urging Nick to finish it because he was so close, so very close, and it wasn’t going to take much more.
He felt Nick’s hand, which had been resting on his thigh, move away, and a moment later a familiar slick sound and rhythmic shifting of the mattress told him that Nick was stroking himself. It didn’t take long -- a low moan deep in Nick’s throat, which vibrated tantalizingly around John’s cock, and a splash of warmth against John’s calf, and then John was coming, too. The pleasure rolled through him slowly, drawn out by the heat of Nick’s mouth.
He brushed the back of his knuckles against Nick’s cheek in a wordless thank you, and a short time after that, Nick, like his brother, was sleeping, and John, every misgiving and concern he’d woken up with lulled to silence, was curled up behind him, close enough that the warmth of Nick’s back was against his skin, as he closed his eyes.
Chapter Three
John slept deeply and woke early, always had, but this morning there was someone awake before him. Nick was a sleepy sprawl of arms and legs beside him, his dark hair tousled, but downstairs someone was moving about, opening cupboard doors and closing them too quickly for anything to have been taken out.
Young Josh looking for his breakfast. They’d meant to show him where the basics were the night before, but the boy had been dead on his feet. John got out of bed and dressed quickly and quietly, a skill he’d learned as a child when his father would rouse him in the dark for school or to go out fishing. He’d sometimes been halfway through his breakfast before he’d been truly awake, but his body had dressed itself and shoveled porridge and tea inside his mouth nonetheless. After a brief stop in the bathroom, where a third toothbrush and a bag of assorted toiletries sat next to his and Nick’s toothbrushes and shared tube of toothpaste, he went downstairs.
Josh was in the kitchen, an empty mug in one hand, staring out of the window.
“Morning, lad,” John said with a yawn, when he saw that it was barely six. God, he was getting old. “Want me to put some coffee in that for you?”
Josh yawned, too, covering his mouth with the back of one hand. He still looked tired. “That’d be great, thanks. I tried to sleep in, but my body clock’s so screwed up I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”
“It’ll be like that for a day or two,” John warned him, moving to get the coffeemaker set up. “It’s best not to fight it -- when you find your eyelids closing despite your best efforts, just go to bed, regardless of the hour.”
“I don’t know. I’m kind of stubborn.” Setting his mug down on the counter, Josh looked out of the window again. “God, it’s so…I don’t know. I guess I forgot it really looks this amazing. Sometimes, especially when you’re just a kid, you remember things being more perfect than they really are, you know?”
“Aye.”
“But this is just like I remember it. It almost hurts to look at it, it’s so beautiful.” Josh glanced at him, looking a bit embarrassed. “Tourists must say stuff like that to you all the time.”
“They do, but it doesn’t mean it’s not true.” John took a look himself out at the view, with the dew wet on the thin, sparse grass that rolled down to the shimmer of the restless sea. From here he could just see the roof of the house he used to live in, a mile or so away, rented out now to summer visitors and often standing empty in the winter. “And it’s good to be reminded of it.”
“It’s so quiet,” Josh said wonderingly. He opened the door leading outside and took a deep breath. “I can’t hear anything but the sea. No cars, no voices… It’s so peaceful.”
On cue the coffeemaker gave a loud gurgle and hiss, and Josh turned, a grin lighting his face.