Giving Up the Ghost (23 page)

He got more Scottish when he was worked up, Nick reflected, easing up a little. It was enough. John snatched his foot back, flipped over, and planted a kiss on Nick’s nose. “You daft bugger,” he repeated, the words loving.

“More than you know,” Nick agreed, pulling him close and not caring who saw. He kissed him, ran a hand from the top of John’s head down to the back of his neck, wiping water through John’s hair like it was a seal’s pelt. Pressing their noses together, he added, “Good thing you’re daft enough to put up with me.”

“That’s not daft,” John said. “It’s the most sense I’ve shown in years.” His hands came to rest on Nick’s shoulders, warmer than the water. “And now I’m wishing this water was a bit colder because I don’t think I’m ready to go back to that umbrella just yet.”

“We’ll have to distract you.” Nick did his best to sound solemn, as if the problem were John’s alone. Then he gave John the quickest kiss ever, said, “Race you to those kids on the red raft,” and whirled and took off toward the raft. He knew he had no chance of winning -- John was a far better swimmer than he was -- and in fact he’d barely gone twenty yards when John shot past him, arms moving in smooth, efficient strokes. By the time Nick reached the raft, John was already talking to one of the kids.

“He won!” the little girl told Nick as he joined them. “By kind of a lot.” She seemed pleased, as if she’d already decided to adopt John as a friend.

“He always does.” Nick smiled at her; her dark hair was pulled back in two tousled pigtails and she was missing one of her front teeth. “He grew up near the ocean. I think he might be part fish, actually.”

Her eyes went round. “Like Ariel? You’ve got a tail?”

Nick had been volunteered for babysitting duties for John’s nieces and nephews, not to mention Michael and Sheila’s kids, often enough to know who she meant; he’d sat through every Disney film available at least six times, it felt like, and from John’s snort of laughter, he knew, too.

“No, pet, he’s just teasing you. But I do live on an island.” He waved his hand at the horizon. “Way, way on the other side of the ocean.”

“Is that why you talk funny?” she asked.

“Me? I talk just fine,” John said indignantly.

She giggled. “No, you don’t, but you sound cute.”

“Cute? Och, that’s terrible.”

“Men don’t really like to be told they’re cute,” Nick explained.

“My daddy doesn’t mind. My mommy calls him that a lot.” The little girl pushed her bangs out of her eyes and glanced behind her, where three other children were laughing and pushing each other off the raft into the water. “Where are your kids?”

“We don’t have any.” Nick felt pretty neutral about that; he’d never thought it would be an option for him, more because of his psychic abilities than because of a lack of a partner with a womb.

That got a disappointed “oh” and Nick felt a pang of sympathy because she’d probably been hoping for someone new to play with; the other children, one of whom looked enough like her to be her brother, were older and seemed to be doing a good job ignoring her.

“But I’ve got a niece about your age,” John offered.

“Back on the island?”

“Aye.”

“Maybe I can visit and play with her.”

“Maybe,” John agreed.

The sun went in, lost behind a cloud, and a gust of wind, warm and stale swept across the bay.

“Another storm coming…” John said, squinting up at the sky. The clouds were massing on the horizon, ominous and heavy. John patted the edge of the raft. “You and your friends had better get back to shore, pet. It’s going to get rough out here soon.”

“Okay.” The girl turned, treading water, and shouted, “Come on, you guys, it’s gonna rain!” Then she turned back toward Nick and John and said, “Bye.” Her hand brushed Nick’s shoulder briefly, and

Lily, her name was Lily -- only that was short for something longer and spelled funny, like Lilibeth or Liliana -- paddling through the waves from shore out into deeper water. He could see through her eyes the small pink beach toy floating just out of reach, the raft to her right but ignored because she knew that if she could just…reach…just a little bit further…

“Nick?” John said, close at his side.

…
And then the water choking her, salty, burning in her nose and lungs, bubbles all around, her legs feeling heavy and useless as she fought her way back toward the surface, and --

Nick gasped, tearing himself away from the flash, and looked around wildly. Lily was swimming toward shore, moving steadily. “There’s a toy,” Nick said. “It’s pink, and --” He saw it floating in the water not far from the raft and swam to it, grabbed it. “Lily!”

She turned and he saw recognition in her eyes as he held up the pink plastic dolphin.

“No, stay there,” he called. “We’re coming in.” And John unquestioningly followed him toward the sand, at his side as their feet touched solid ground under them and he handed over the toy.

“Thank you,” Lily said, smiling her gapped smile at him.

“You’re welcome,” Nick told her. He was starting to feel the reaction now, and although Lily had turned away without noticing, running over to her parents who were already starting to pack up towels and the remnants of a picnic, he knew John was giving him a worried look.

“Nick? Love, are you all right?” John said quietly. Nick felt John’s arm slip around his shoulders and let John lead him back to their umbrella. The sand was gritty, clinging to his wet feet in a thousand sparkles of white and gold, making them heavy, each step an effort. “Here, come this way, that’s right…Sit down for a bit; catch your breath, we’ve time yet before the rain comes.”

“I saw her,” he said, knowing he shouldn’t, people might hear, this wasn’t the time or place, but unable to stop himself. “She went back for that toy…” John lowered him into a sitting position on one of the towels and sat beside him. “She was drowning.” Nick looked up and found John’s blue eyes on him.

“You saw her?” John asked, putting a careful emphasis on the middle word. “Like
Sandy
, that time, you mean?”

Nick nodded, knowing he didn’t need to do more. John knew what it was like for him when this happened, when a possibility, a future that was going to happen, was spread out for him to read.

Or change, rewrite. Make right. Because it wasn’t right that that little girl would die like that, and now she wouldn’t.

“And she’s safe. You saved her.” John shivered, reaching out to pull Nick to him in a hard, clumsy hug. “God, Nick. I can’t…if we hadn’t been here; if we’d stayed in our room, hell, if we hadn’t had that race to the raft…I can’t get my head around it all sometimes.”

“I know.” Nick pressed his temple to John’s cheek and held onto him. “It’s…it’s happening all around us, all the time, and there are people I could save but I
don’t
, because I don’t
know
that -- “ John murmured to him soothingly and he stopped; it was the kind of thought process that went nowhere, because there was no way he could save everyone. Worse, he wasn’t sure he’d have wanted to even if he could.

Around them, people were packing their things and heading out toward the road, but he and John stayed where they were for another few minutes. A woman walking past caught Nick’s eye and smiled, and that easy acceptance gave him the strength to straighten up.

“I hate that it can happen like that,” he said softly. “So unexpected, you know? Just out of nowhere.”

John nodded. Nick supposed John had got used to the way Nick didn’t, if he could help it, touch strangers; it had become automatic for him to be careful handing over money, or accepting change, a habit to walk through crowds keeping himself apart. It was one reason he liked living on quiet, sparsely populated Traighshee.

“But you saved her. Whatever you saw -- it’s gone now. Like a dream.” John turned to look at the ocean, where the waves were starting to show white caps now and turn gray under the darkening sky. “She wouldn’t have stood a chance out there, and more people might have died trying to save her. You stopped that.” He glanced back at Nick and gave him a small smile. The first drops of rain began to fall, warm, full splashes, striking the umbrella and Nick’s outstretched legs. “Come on, then, before we get wet.”

“We
are
wet,” Nick pointed out.

“That’s different.” John stood up and began to take down the umbrella. “Grab the towels, will you?”

Nick did, and they trotted back toward the hotel, turning in the umbrella at the small rental shop and going back up to their room, toweling their hair dry while they waited in the elevator. The rain was falling steadily outside by the time they shut their door, and Nick went over to open the curtains so they could see it. His swim trunks were sticking damply to his legs, so he stripped them off and turned to see John doing the same, the sight of his pale skin making Nick almost weak with arousal. “God, I love looking at you.”

John’s gaze traveled over him, appreciative enough to leave Nick’s skin heating, tingling, as if he’d been touched. “I could say the same. You’re just…Christ, you’re hot, Nick. And there’s more to the way I feel than that, and you know it, but sometimes that’s enough.” He walked over to Nick and drew the curtain closed again, the stiff, thick material brushing Nick’s back. “I wanted you out there. I was aching with it and it hadn’t been that long, but it didn’t matter. And I want you again now, with the smell and the taste of the sea on you.” He slid to his knees, nuzzling his face into Nick’s stomach and turning his head to run his tongue across the head of Nick’s cock, moaning as Nick’s hips jerked forward instinctively, forcing John’s lips to open for him. “God, yes…”

The heat of John’s mouth on Nick’s chilled skin was startling; he stroked his hand over John’s head and blinked slowly, eyelids at halfmast as he watched John’s lips slide over his shaft. His knees were wobbly, his chest tight. “Fuck,” he said shakily. “Christ. John.” John glanced up at him, then slid one hand up Nick’s inner thigh and the other up around the back to his ass, kneading it. Nick’s cock throbbed and filled, damp with John’s saliva as John’s pink tongue slicked across the head of it.

John murmured something, not words, just sensation, a thrum and hum across skin that felt thin, stretched, hot now, and his tongue stroked and licked lower, curling around the tight weight of Nick’s balls, tasting and exploring.

Nick could feel the tension in the tops of his feet, the backs of his calves, his forearms. He was moaning now, little moans that slipped out with each warm lick of John’s tongue. He ached deep inside; needed to feel John push into him, stretching him, making him gasp and cry out and come and then putting him back together afterwards with kisses and soft words and reassurances. There were never enough reassurances as far as Nick was concerned -- he could listen to John tell him that he was gorgeous and wonderful and loved until the end of time and would always want more.

There were tears in his eyes; he tilted his head back and took a shuddering breath, looked at the ceiling. “I love you,” he whispered.

John rocked back on his heels and stood, his arms going around Nick, giving him somewhere safe, somewhere certain to be. “I love you, too.” He felt John’s fingers brush at the few tears that had spilled down, wiping them away, then John’s hand slipped into his and John drew him over to the bed.

It felt good to stretch out on the cool sheets with John kneeling beside him, smiling down at him. His body was quivering, energized by what he’d done on the beach and what John was doing to him now, long, slow caresses, with John’s mouth following the path his hands were taking,

“Turn over,” John said, rolling Nick to his front and straddling him. “I want -- God, I want you. All of you --” His mouth was on the back of Nick’s neck, biting and sucking at the skin as Nick shuddered and squirmed. “So hard -- God, you’ve got me so hard…. Feel me…”

Nick spread his legs wider, arching his back, feeling wanton and not caring, as John’s cock, thick and full, nudged between his legs, riding the crease of his ass.

“Oh God, just fuck me.” Nick writhed underneath John, trying to get the other man into position, not caring at all if there was lube because he
needed
to feel John inside him. “Please. Please…”

John grabbed Nick’s hip and steadied him, kissing his shoulder. “Shh, love.” He stretched, reaching for the massage oil on the bedside table, and a moment later slick fingers were pushing into Nick, making him groan. He would have begged John for more as soon as he’d caught his breath, but John knew him so well -- knew that waiting wasn’t something he could do right then -- and fingers were almost immediately replaced with cock, hard as it slid into him.

“You feel…Nick…” John’s breath caught and Nick felt John’s hands tighten on his hips as John completed that smooth push inside him. “I want you.”

Nick nodded, his breath rough and harsh in a mouth dry with longing. John had him. All of him. He rocked his hips in an agony of need, fucking himself on John’s cock, easing back and forward, only willing to lose a few inches, even if getting them back sent a delicious shiver through him. John let him, holding still, and then moaned, sounding as desperate as Nick. “Oh, you’ve got to…I want to…
Nick
 --”

“Whatever you want.” Nick meant it. Right then he would have given John anything, no matter what the cost. “God, just…” With enormous effort, he forced himself to stop moving. “Fuck me.”

“Plan to.” John’s teeth were gritted by the sound of it. “But you don’t have to stay still. Together, aye?”

Nick didn’t get a chance to answer; didn’t need to. John plunged into him, over and over, deep, solid thrusts that filled him, gave him what he needed right then the way he needed air. There’d been times with Matthew when this had felt like an invasion, left him feeling a little empty afterwards, a little used, but never with John. It was a joining, a fusion of their bodies that left him closer to the man he’d fallen in love with so easily and at such a cost to them both.

He hitched himself up onto his elbows and knees, eyes screwed tightly shut as he pushed back to meet John’s thrusts. “Don’t stop,” he begged, even as John’s hand closed around his erection and stroked it roughly; he knew he wouldn’t last, not like this, but he still wanted it to go on as long as possible. There were times he’d thought he’d never have someone like John, that his life with Matthew had been all he’d ever know, and he hadn’t even realized what he’d been missing until he’d stepped into John’s life and discovered that it was everything he’d ever wanted.