Give Yourself Away (25 page)

The squirt of lube brought him down from the clouds. But Caleb was so tender and patient, circling his fingers around March’s hole; insistent, pressing gently as he persuaded reluctant muscles to cede. When he added his tongue to the pressure of his finger and both slid a little way inside, March groaned with the rightness of it. He found himself spreading his legs, pushing his butt higher, asking for more. Caleb’s finger slipped deep inside him, the muscles of March’s arse clamped down and Caleb sucked in a breath.

“Okay?” Caleb asked.

“That dildo is too big. Try your little finger instead.”

“Have you ever used it?”

“No. I ordered it over the Internet and freaked out when I saw it. I think I got the measurements wrong or they sent me a joke one. And it feels—too hard.”

Caleb pushed his finger in and out, curled it and touched March’s prostate.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” March gasped.
I need to piss. No, I’m okay. Don’t stop doing that.
Thank fuck he hadn’t said any of that.

He reached for his cock and wrapped his hand tightly around the base.

“Don’t come yet,” Caleb said.

March’s laughter bubbled out of him. Then one of Caleb’s fingers turned into two and he stopped laughing. Part of him marveled how he’d given himself up to this. Would he have done it for anyone other than Caleb? Trusted anyone other than him? Could he have?

“Breathe,” Caleb whispered.

Oh yeah. I forgot.
The pull in his gut, the need to come was powering toward him like a seventh wave, lifting him and filling him with adrenaline. He pressed the heel of his hand down onto his balls.

On every gentle thrust of his fingers, Caleb caressed March’s prostate and March decided breathing was overrated. The wave had picked him up, dragged him toward destruction, but stopped before he got there and instead swept him out to sea. But the journey back to shore was starting again and this time he couldn’t escape. He was dimly aware of Caleb scooting beneath him, pushing him back, maneuvering him until March was crouched over Caleb. Somehow Caleb had sheathed himself and slathered lube everywhere.

“Up to you.” Caleb’s voice was croaky, his eyes dark with desire.

March wrapped his hand around Caleb’s cock and positioned it at the entrance to his body.

“How come you suddenly feel twice as big?” March asked.

He pushed down on Caleb’s cock, letting the rounded head nudge his opening.
Oh fuck. No way.
Every muscle in his body locked down, not just those in his backside.

Caleb stared into his eyes. “You look so sexy.”

March groaned.

“You still okay with this?” Caleb asked.

March nodded.

“That rigid jaw because you have toothache?” Caleb asked.

“Smartarse.”

“Yeah.” Caleb smiled. “Don’t just be okay with it, though. You need to want to do it.”

Caleb reached for March’s nipples and when he plucked them, March gasped.

“You need to relax,” Caleb whispered.

“Do I? I hadn’t realized.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Liar.”

“Well, it might a bit but it feels great after.”

“After what?”

“After you’ve adjusted.”

March took a deep breath, still gripping Caleb’s cock, and sank a little lower.

“Adjustment takes a year or so,” Caleb added.

“Fuck you.” March laughed.

“Get on with it. You’re not the only one on a knife edge.” Caleb’s face was taut with strain.

March held his breath as he sank down, letting Caleb slide deeper into him and…he panicked.
Christ, it hurts. How much more is there?

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Breathe.” Caleb wrapped his fingers around the wrist of March’s free hand. “Wait or pull out. But it’ll get better. Promise.”

March panted as he waited. He felt his body gradually accept the intrusion and then he sank the rest of the way until they were pressed together with nowhere else to go.

Caleb gasped and sucked in a breath. “Wow.”

“I’ll accept wow.”

Caleb laughed and March felt the vibration ripple through him.

“Okay. Think you can move?” Caleb panted.

March lifted his hips until just the head of Caleb’s cock stayed inside him, before he lowered himself again.

“Oh Jesus,” Caleb moaned. “If you care about my sanity, move, move fast, and do it now. A lot. Well, aim for twice.”

Caleb’s hands were under March’s backside, but all he was doing was holding tight, not pushing him into doing anything. March understood why Caleb had thought this was the best way for him—because the control was his, not Caleb’s. But when he began to move, to fuck himself on that hard, hot length, his control began to crumble.
Was it ever been more than a fragile thing?

When Caleb bucked up as March dropped down, his vision wavered. Harsh, guttural sounds burst from them both and echoed around the room. The musky scent of sex, of sweat-soaked bodies, swirled around them.

When Caleb leaned forward and pulled March’s cock into his mouth, March whimpered.
How can he do that? Can he bend in fucking half? Ah yes, he can.

But thoughts of how subsided under the frenzied need to make Caleb come, the equally desperate need to let himself come. Caleb still rocked up into him as March fucked him, yet kept licking and mouthing his cock, one of his hands pumping the base, the other still grasping March’s butt.

“Caleb,” March groaned his name, felt Caleb tense as he came, a warm rush filling the condom. March only had time to take a breath and then he was coming too, spurting over Caleb’s face and his chest. As his body jerked and his balls emptied, March felt as though he’d been dragged off the sea and up into the air, spiraling out of control.

He looked down at Caleb smugly smiling up at him and said, “I might do that again.”

Caleb laughed. “Where’s the aftersex cuddle?”

“We haven’t finished yet.”

March lifted himself off, keeping hold of the condom, and wished they weren’t using them, wished he could empty himself directly into Caleb, mark him as his.

When he came back from the bathroom with a cloth, Caleb hadn’t moved. One look at his come-splattered face and chest, and March’s cock twitched.
No way. Can you kill yourself with too much sex?
He cleaned Caleb and watched him start to slide into sleep, even before March finished.

When March came back from the bathroom the second time and climbed into bed, Caleb wrapped himself around him.

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered.

“You’re very polite.”

“Yeah well, I want to do that again too.”

March sucked in a breath when he looked at Caleb. “Your eyes.”

“I’ve taken the lenses out. I don’t need to hide anymore.”

The lump in March’s throat grew large enough to choke him. “I’d have known,” he whispered. “If I’d seen your eyes, I’d have known. They’d have given you away. I can see you now. Really see you.”

March fell asleep with a smile on his face.

March was sprawled like a starfish and snoring lightly when Caleb snuck from under his arm and crept from the bed. He looked down at March and sighed. He hadn’t been sure whether March would ever want to be fucked and Caleb had been a bundle of nerves in case he hurt him. But he’d laughed when March said,
“I might do that again.”

Caleb showered in the bathroom attached to the other bedroom so that he didn’t wake March, and pulled on his work clothes. Before he left, he unwrapped his birds, put three of them on the windowsill in his room and took the other—a robin, his favorite—into March’s bedroom. Caleb scribbled a note.

Gone to work. See you tonight. You owe me £10 for failing to carry me up the stairs, but maybe double or quits? This bird is for you.

Caleb drove away in his car, with his heart pounding. He’d liked Simon and Mike until things had gone wrong, but he’d never felt this thing in his chest, this ache, this need, this all-encompassing desperation to be with another person. He wanted to take care of March, to have fun with him, to share a life with him. Caleb released a shaky breath.
I love him.
But…

And there was a
but
. March was in his first gay relationship. He’d only just come out, and even if he’d known he was gay, he’d only just said it out loud. He’d never been with a guy until Caleb. It wasn’t fair to tie him down. How would either of them ever know it was the real thing if March hadn’t seen what else was on offer? Caleb knew. He had no doubt, but March’s head was filled with lust, consumed with the excitement and pleasure of something new.

It was too soon to tell March how he felt. Too soon to know how March really felt about what had gone on in Caleb’s life. He’d taken a risk telling him about Jasim. Part of him regretted it because he’d promised to keep quiet. If things went wrong between him and March, Caleb had given him a weapon. But he thought about the boy March had been and knew deep down that March would keep the secret. Whether he’d get his head around what Caleb had done with Liam and then Jasim was less certain.

Chapter Twenty-Four

March woke to the sound of the alarm and jerked upright. No Caleb by his side. He fumbled for the off switch, silenced the din, then turned to see a note and a little wooden bird. He smiled when he read what Caleb had written.

The bird was exquisite. He thought it might be a robin but he wasn’t sure. No red breast to give him a clue. The barbules on each feather had been minutely carved and tiny nails knocked in for the eyes. The feet were twisted strips of thin metal and the beak—he wasn’t sure what Caleb had used for that. Maybe part of a circuit board.

When they were boys, Caleb had tried to teach March bird names. But he’d usually forgotten by the time they were back on their bikes. Caleb knew their calls, their habitats, what their eggs looked like. He could even call back to some of them. Birds were the only things Caleb ever seemed to draw, and even though he was only eleven, March had known he had talent. But since March had never made any advance in his artistic ability from the age of five, it didn’t take much to impress him.

While he showered, he thought about what they’d done last night. Caleb was…perfect.
Fuck it, can’t I come up with another word?
But he couldn’t. Caleb was gentle and thoughtful and excited and funny, and there was no way March was going to let him out of his life. And to ensure Caleb stayed safe, he had to be certain there wasn’t anyone waiting in the wings to cause problems. He’d heard what Caleb said about staying under the radar, but March was not going to let anything happen to Caleb now he’d found him.

At work, in between lectures, tutorials and seminars, March did some online checking for a Saudi prince named Jasim who owned or once owned a polo pony called Tye’s Dream. If Jasim hadn’t given Caleb that horse’s name, March doubted he’d have uncovered him. But there was a Saudi prince called Jasim bin Rajhi, a seven-handicap polo player for an English team, and March found mention of a horse called Tye’s Dream. March clicked on images and after checking details on a few websites found himself looking at photos of the man who’d bid for Caleb, fucked him, killed for him, possibly almost killed for him again and might still want him.

He didn’t look as old as Caleb had described him. Maybe mid-to-late thirties. No facial hair, unlike many Saudis. Good-looking, though he didn’t appear gay. March huffed.
What the hell do I know?

Finding out where Jasim lived was not so straightforward. All the Internet told him was details of polo matches. The guy might not even be in the country. March picked out a private detective agency and paid them to trace him. It was less expensive than he’d thought, and provided Jasim was in the UK, they said they might have something within forty-eight hours.

Before March went home, he scrolled through pages of sites offering tattoo removal and located a business in Bournemouth that looked good. Well, the before-and-after pictures looked brilliant, but they were hardly going to display the ones that had been less successful. “This was once the tattoo of a pirate galleon in full sail and now it looks like a monkey’s backside.” Yeah right. The good news was that according to the information, professional tattoos were harder to remove than those done by amateurs. He made an appointment for Saturday, two days’ time. March would no longer be on call for the lifeboat and maybe he wouldn’t tell Caleb where they were going; he’d just take him.

He phoned Caleb before he left work.

“Hi,” Caleb said.

“If I had a carpenter,” March sang.

“Hmm. It’s ‘If I were a carpenter’ and, no, I’m not having your baby.”

The jolt in March’s gut surprised him. A baby? Was that something they might want in the future? “I’m just about to set off. Anything you’d like me to pick up from the supermarket?”

“I can make a chili if you get the ingredients.”

“Beef, beans, onions, chili powder, tomatoes, rice?”

“And garlic, paprika, tomato puree and a piece of dark chocolate.”

March smiled. “Right. See you later.”

March found himself humming “Take Me to Church” as he drove away from the supermarket and his mind filled with images of Caleb dancing. That was another thing he wanted to put right, but finding a way Caleb could dance for a living might be beyond him. He was about two miles from the house, still in a sorting-out-stuff mood, and decided he’d call Annabel.

He owed her a proper explanation for letting things go so far then breaking up with her. It wasn’t that he’d suddenly developed more of a conscience after hearing what Caleb had been through, but this was one thing he
could
put right. He needed to tell her before she heard it from someone else. March hoped, after he told her he was gay, she’d understand what he’d done. Being happy for him would be a step too far.

“Yes.” Annabel’s voice was curt.

“How are you?”

“How do you think I am?”

Not forgiven then. “I’m sorry and I know being sorry isn’t enough.”

“Why are you calling?”

“I wanted to tell you something. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

She gave a sudden gasp. “You lied? You
were
seeing another woman?”

“No. I wasn’t seeing anyone. I’m not interested in women.”

He pulled up on the drive and sat with the engine running.

“Are you telling me you’re gay?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. “I’m not lying.”

Annabel’s brittle laughter turned into sobs. “You couldn’t have decided that before you asked me to marry you? You bastard.”

“You asked me, Annabel.”

She snorted. “You had sex with me. Do I need to get checked out?”

March cringed. “I’d never been with a guy until we were through. I didn’t know what I was.” Not really true but maybe better if she thought that.

“And now you do know? I was so repulsive I drove you to have sex with guys?”

“No, that’s not true. I cared for you, but there was something missing in my life. I thought you could make me whole but you couldn’t, and that’s not your fault but mine. I’m sorry.”

Annabel cut off the call.

March turned off the engine and carried the groceries into the house. That hadn’t made him feel better, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

Caleb heard March’s car pull up outside and when he didn’t come in, Caleb looked through the window and saw him talking on the phone.
Something he doesn’t want me to hear?

Caleb went back into the kitchen and continued chopping the onion he’d found in the bottom of the fridge. He jumped when the door slammed, and then March was in the kitchen, his mouth on his neck, and Caleb’s cock swelled.

“Good thing I knew it was you,” Caleb said. “I
am
holding a knife and I’ve just sharpened it.”

March laughed and put the bags on the counter. “I know you didn’t think it was a good idea for me to speak to Annabel but I just phoned her.”

Caleb turned to look at him. “And did she say ‘Die, you bastard’?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Did she believe you?”

“She asked about diseases, so yeah.”

Caleb made a sucking noise with his teeth.

March poured himself a glass of water. “I don’t want to waste another minute thinking about her. What can I do to help with dinner, apart from eat it?”

Caleb gave March the chocolate to grate and began to fry the onion.

March washed his hands.

“Other than that phone call, did you have a good day?” Caleb asked.

“Yep, I did. Three students managed to write essays about Julius Caesar without mentioning the words ‘Et tu, Brute’. I was asked to contribute an essay on the rise and fall of Baghdad for a book on Iraq, and I booked us a night in a hotel on Saturday.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise. Plus, I need to buy a dress shirt. Not for Saturday. I’ve got a thing to go to. Hmm, maybe we should get you a dress shirt too. You can come with me.”

“Are you getting an award for the world’s sexiest man? Or giving a speech about coinage in the ancient world? ’Cause I think I could give the latter a miss.”

“Funny guy. It’s a competition to see who has the most beautiful feet.”

“You’ve already won that. Maybe I
should
buy a few new clothes.”

March wrapped his arms around him and put his chocolate-covered fingers against Caleb’s lips. “I like you better naked.”

“Wh—?” Caleb’s mouth was suddenly full of chocolatey fingers and he licked them clean.

“Oh fuck. I didn’t think that through,” March said with a moan as Caleb sucked each finger in turn.

Caleb could feel March rocking his cock harder against Caleb’s butt before March pulled away with a groan.

“Why do you have to be so tempting?” March asked.

“Eau de Chili—it’s a winner every time.”

“How long before we eat?”

“Once it’s simmering, about thirty minutes.” Caleb stirred in the meat.

“I’m going to work off some of my energy in the gym.”

“You have a gym? Is there a swimming pool, sauna and hot tub as well? I assume you’re waiting to show me the home cinema and the bowling alley.”

March laughed. “My gym is a few pieces of equipment in the garage.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to get changed and lift weights. Want to join me?”

“Okay.”

Once the chili was simmering and the rice cooking with the timer on, Caleb ran up the stairs to his room and changed into shorts and a T-shirt.

The first door Caleb opened downstairs was a cupboard, the next the garage. He stopped on the threshold. March was kneeling on a bench between an elliptical trainer and a bike fastened to a frame. He was doing bicep curls. But it was what hung around the sides of the garage that had Caleb gaping.

A kayak, scuba gear, climbing equipment—there was a lot of rope, three or four different helmets, skateboard, skis, snowboard, kiteboard, wet suit, mountain bike… He didn’t even recognize some of the stuff.

“Tiddlywinks not dangerous enough?” Caleb asked.

March shot him a grin.

Caleb climbed on the elliptical trainer and grabbed the handles. “You’re into a whole variety of extreme sports then, not just kitesurfing and climbing.”

“Yep.”

“Doing dangerous things gets you excited. Man against nature. I get scared just thinking about doing anything dangerous.” He swallowed hard. “It’s so risky. You could get killed.”

“That’s part of the pleasure.”

“What? Thinking you might get killed? How can that be pleasurable?”

March grunted. “It’s not easy to explain.”

“Well try.”

“Extreme sports are a mix of skill, danger and exhilaration. You use your expertise to control the risks, so although there’s danger, it doesn’t have to be reckless. A lot of it’s about physics.”

“Shit, that’s me out then. I gave up with physics. It was hard to follow. I had enough trouble with algebra. Too easy to cheat and look up the answers. But those sorts of risky activities have to hold more than an interest in how long you can stay underwater when you dive or what angle to turn your board in the sea. It’s far more than physics.”

March lay on a mat and started doing crunches. “It’s the adrenaline rush. It’s greater than in any other sport because you’re in extreme danger. So you have to learn how to stay calm and think clearly when you’re in a potentially life-threatening situation.”

“Knowing you might die?”

“Knowing you might die.”

“Fuck.” It sounded like hell to Caleb. He couldn’t see the pleasure in risking your life for a short period of excitement. “I don’t think I’d even enjoy watching.”

March glanced at him. “Many people do. They can experience the thrill in part because they can imagine the consequences of a mistake.”

“Sure they’re not ghouls waiting to catch an accident?”

“Some are, yeah, that’s true.”

Caleb opened his mouth to say he couldn’t see the appeal in watching someone you care about risk killing themselves, but he stayed silent. If March was into it, maybe he could come to appreciate—
No, fuck it. I can’t.
If he could hardly bear to watch March on the climbing wall—when he was safely tied on—how the hell could he cope with seeing him throwing himself off cliffs into the sea or kayaking in white water?
Oh fuck, does he BASE jump? Free climb? Don’t ask.

He gritted his teeth and moved faster on the cross trainer.

“You okay?” March asked.

“Fine.” Caleb tried not to look at all the stuff hanging around him but it was difficult. He did get what March said about the skill and the adrenaline rush, but he didn’t get why? The Baxter he remembered was adventurous, but had seen what happened when you took risks—you got snatched by vultures like Liam, you had to leap out of burning houses, you died in car crashes like their fathers.

He glanced down and silently groaned when his gaze settled on the scar on March’s wrist. March had tried to kill himself. The extreme sports were his way of dicing with death and Caleb thought he could guess what had sparked it all off.
Me. My fault.

March had felt guilty because he was free and Caleb wasn’t, and he still felt guilty. March was deliberately risking his life.
Shit.

The faint sound of the kitchen timer seeped into the garage and Caleb slowed the cross trainer and stepped off.

“Meal’s ready,” he said.

March levered himself up and grabbed a towel. He shone with a faint gleam of perspiration. Caleb hadn’t even broken into a sweat.

“Time for a quick shower?” March asked.

“Yep.”

“Better shower on our own or we won’t make it back downstairs.”

Caleb checked the chili and the rice before he went up. He was trying to think of a way to talk to March about risk-taking, but he didn’t want to say something and have March merely dismiss his worries. Maybe he ought to wait until March was about to launch himself into the air or sea. Or maybe he ought not to say anything at all. Maybe he should just take his clothes off. That might be enough of a distraction.
At the top of a cliff with a load of spectators?
He’d do it, if it would stop him.