Make Me Soar (39 page)

It didn’t matter how long they’d known each other. Alan was falling in love with his boy.

A
LAN
CLOSED
his eyes and curved his body around Dorian, drinking in his presence, luxuriating in the feel of that firm, warm frame against his, the sound of his breathing, slow and steady. He’d been home for three hours, and the whole journey back, all he could think about was holding Dorian like this, in their bed. Dorian’s welcoming hug, the minute Alan got through the front door, had surprised him. They’d talked about the workshop for the rest of the evening, Dorian wanting to know all about it. All Alan had wanted was to wrap him in his arms and take him to bed, but he’d curbed his desire.

Bedtime hadn’t come soon enough.

Dorian sighed, a soft noise of contentment, as Alan slowly rubbed his belly and chest with a firm hand.

“Missed you,” he whispered, chin resting against Dorian’s shoulder, inhaling the smell of freshly washed hair and clean skin. “Missed this.” He kissed Dorian’s neck before moving lower to his shoulder blade.

“
Oh
.”

That soft sigh again. Only, Alan wanted more than his boy’s sighs.

He shifted to pull open the drawer beside him and took out the lube and a condom. Dorian stilled. Alan quickly slicked up and moved back to him, seeking out that hot little hole and slowly sinking a couple of fingers into Dorian’s body.

Dorian pulled his upper leg forward, giving Alan more room, and then turned his head. “Kiss me.”

Alan was only too happy to oblige. He met Dorian’s lips with his own while he slid in and out of that tight heaven, other hand working his shaft. He kept the motion slow and sensual, his eagerness to be inside his sub barely held in check. When Dorian was pushing back, riding his fingers, Alan couldn’t wait another second. He pulled free of Dorian’s body, tore open the foil, and swiftly gloved up. Dorian’s soft exhale when Alan finally entered him sent his heart soaring.

“Missed this too,” he whispered as he slowly thrust into Dorian, rocking into him from behind, sliding between slick cheeks. He buried his face into Dorian’s neck, inhaling the musky scent of him.

“God, me too,” Dorian groaned, pushing back, his breathing quickening. They lay like that for what seemed like ages, moving together as one, a slow, sweet fuck that felt absolutely perfect.

It wasn’t long before Alan was rolling Dorian onto his belly and spreading him wide with his knees. Alan covered him with his body and found his rhythm, thrusting into him, filling him. Dorian’s low moans and harsh sighs rebounded around the quiet bedroom as Alan made love to him, holding back until his body was screaming to come. With a low cry, he released deep inside his boy, their breath mingling as Dorian twisted toward him to be kissed, seeking him with eager lips, tongues sliding. When Alan’s orgasm finally ebbed away, he withdrew and took care of the condom before pushing Dorian onto his back. He slid two fingers deep inside Dorian’s body and rubbed over his gland while Dorian worked his cock, his own climax imminent.

When Dorian came, it was with Alan’s name on his lips. Not Sir—
Alan
.

He held his sub, caressing him, kissing him, telling him how beautiful he was when he came, how wonderful it felt to be inside him, until Alan was hard again. They made love until the early hours when Dorian fell asleep in his arms, Alan not long after him, warm and sated. As he slipped into the velvety arms of sleep, his last thought was that he’d gotten it wrong the previous night. He wasn’t falling in love with his sub.

He was
way
past falling.

A
LAN
PARKED
the car on a side street near the café Dorian had told him to find, trying not to scowl. He still had no idea why he was here. The last he’d seen of Dorian had been an hour or so ago, when he’d gone to meet Justin for one of their regular coffee meetups. Alan had been surprised that Dorian had wanted to go out. The previous night was still fresh in his mind. All Alan had wanted was a morning with Dorian and more of what they’d shared the night before.

Last night was wonderful
. Making love to him, again and again, had been a sublime, sensuous experience. It was bad enough that he’d had to spend three days away from Dorian. To wake and find him so eager to go and meet Justin had felt… wrong. For one brief moment it occurred to him that maybe his sub didn’t feel the same way. Just
thinking
like that had his stomach rolling over, making him feel queasy.

And then the phone had rung. Dorian had sounded so serious, the urgent tone in his voice impossible to ignore, not that Alan
would
have ignored him anyway. He’d agreed to meet Dorian at the café, even though Dorian hadn’t told him what was wrong. That note of agitation was enough.

Alan rounded the corner and spied Dorian at once, alone and pacing up and down outside the café. He walked briskly, warming at the way Dorian’s face lit up when he saw him. “Are you all right?” Alan knew, even as he asked the question, that nothing was wrong. Dorian seemed full of nervous energy, unable to stand still, but there was an air of anticipation about him. It was then that he noticed what was in Dorian’s hand—a bunch of red roses. Alan frowned. “What’s going on?”

Dorian smiled, leaned forward, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for coming.” His eyes sparkled.

Alan arched his eyebrows, trying not to let the public display of affection distract him. “That doesn’t answer my question.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “You sounded… odd on the phone, but now that I see you—”

“Please, you need to trust me, okay?” Those brown eyes were almost begging him. “I need you to come somewhere with me.” Dorian met his gaze unblinking. The effect was mesmerizing.

Alan studied him for a moment and then relented. “Okay. Where are you taking me?”

Dorian’s smile eased the constriction around his chest. He held out his empty hand. “Come with me.”

Surprised, Alan grasped his hand, and Dorian led him toward the pedestrian crossing. They walked over Princess Road toward Nell Lane. Alan stared when they approached the entrance to Southern Cemetery.

“Whose grave are you visiting?” That explained the flowers, at any rate. This had to be important to Dorian, though why he should want Alan with him, Alan had
no
idea.

Dorian didn’t answer but led him by the hand to the north of the cemetery. His silence unnerved Alan a little, but he simply held Dorian’s hand and followed where he led. Dorian came to a stop in front of a grave site surrounded by a low wall of white marble, evidently a family plot. Situated within it were several gravestones in varied states, some plainly older, others more recent. Alan stood at his side, perplexed—until he caught sight of the names on the gravestones: Hemmingway.

Alan froze, his head in a spin. “Dorian?”

His sub pointed to a grave at the farthest end of the plot. “Luke is buried there.” He pressed the bouquet into Alan’s hand. “I thought you might like to lay these on his grave.” He swallowed, blinking.

“When did you… but how…?” Alan stared at the plot, shaking his head. “I don’t understand.” His legs felt weak, and a wave of heat rolled over and through him. Breathing became a chore. The sound of traffic from the road became a dull roar. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, it ached. The roses were heavy, like a lead weight in his hand.

Dorian’s hand came to rest on his upper arm, stroking it lightly. He spoke softly. “I found it while you were in London. I’d been doing some research ever since you told me about Luke. The Hemmingways are an old family, aren’t they?”

Alan nodded absently, and Dorian gave him a gentle smile.

“Well, I found out online that there was a family plot here and that Luke was here too. Justin and I came looking for him.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I thought you might like to say good-bye.”

Alan felt light-headed. “You… you did this to bring me closure?” His brain was having difficulty taking it all in. He took several long, deep breaths.

Dorian squeezed his hand. “I’m going to go back to the café now and leave you alone for a while. There’s no rush. Take your time.” That gentle smile returned. “Come and find me when you’re finished.” He raised Alan’s hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss across his knuckles before turning as if to walk away.

Alan grabbed his hand. “Dorian.” He stepped closer, until their bodies were almost touching. His throat tightened, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.” He kissed Dorian on the mouth, a light brushing of lips, then released him, his cheeks warm.

Dorian flushed. “I’ll see you in a while, yeah?” He walked away along the path that led back to the entrance. Alan watched him go, still feeling disoriented, heart hammering, until he was out of sight. Then he turned to where his first love lay, a white marble headstone marking the spot, Luke’s name etched into it with black lettering. Alan walked up to the stone and laid a hand upon its cold surface, feeling the polished marble beneath his fingertips.

“Luke,” he whispered. A shaky laugh bubbled out of him. “What on earth do I say now?” Some writer
he
was.

Then he remembered the roses, and his fingers tightened around the bouquet. He knelt down to place them on the grave while he waited for the words to come.

D
ORIAN
PLACED
his empty mug on the table and tried hard
not
to stare out of the window. It had been nearly half an hour since he’d left Alan at Luke’s graveside, and as yet there was no sign of him. He couldn’t get that view of Alan out of his mind. The Dom had looked bewildered by the turn of events. That gentle kiss had reassured Dorian he’d done the right thing.

If it were me, what would
I
be feeling right then?
Try as he might, Dorian found it difficult to imagine. From everything Alan had told him, he and Luke had been close. Who knew how life might have turned out for them, if not for Luke’s parents’ sudden appearance that day?

For one thing, Alan might not have become a Dom
.

Dorian shook his head. Chaos theory really messed with his mind. Change one little detail, and like ripples in a pond, so many different things could be affected.

“Dorian?”

Dorian gave a start and jerked his chin up. Alan was standing opposite him, smiling.
Oh, thank God
.
He looks okay
. A little paler, perhaps, but that smile made Dorian’s heart leap.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Alan shook his head. “Let’s go home.”

Dorian nodded, rose to his feet, and followed Alan out of the café and onto the noisy street. To his surprise Alan held out his hand. Dorian took it, loving the way Alan laced their fingers together as they walked. It gave him a warm buzz to walk hand in hand, something he’d never done before. Alan wasn’t in a rush, it seemed. He kept the pace measured, a distant look in his eyes.

They got to the car and climbed in. Alan didn’t start the engine straightaway. He rested his hands on the steering wheel, that unfocused gaze still evident. Silence fell, but there was a comfortable feel about it, and Dorian was unwilling to lose that.

Alan laid his hand on Dorian’s thigh. “Thank you,” he said at last. He turned his head to face Dorian. “You will never know what you’ve just done for me.”

Dorian’s cheeks burned. “That’s okay.”

Alan shook his head. “You don’t understand the importance of that conversation a few weeks ago. Without that, I’d have felt very differently. I’m positive of it. There would have been so much pain, so much guilt. You made me see things very differently. I was able to kneel by that grave and say good-bye with a lighter heart.” A slow smile spread across his face. “You were right, of course. Without that experience, I might never have chosen the path I’m now on.” He swallowed. “I wished him peace, wherever he is.”

Tears pricked the corners of Dorian’s eyes, and he wiped them away hastily. “He will always be in your heart.”

Alan leaned across his seat and cupped Dorian’s nape. He gazed at him steadily before moving closer. There followed the soft brushing of lips against his, and then Alan pulled him closer still, opening for Dorian, deepening the kiss. Dorian closed his eyes and lost himself in Alan, in the slight noises that spoke of Alan’s enjoyment. He reached for Alan, hands on his shoulders, his cheek, and just
let go
, warmth flowing through him.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion: Alan’s fingers in his hair; the slow slide of his tongue between Dorian’s lips; his warm breath mingling with Dorian’s; the smell of Alan’s cologne, faint and spicy.

This
is how I wanted him to kiss me
.

It was like nothing they’d shared before. Alan’s soft pecks on the lips or cheek, lips pressed against his forehead, his hair—they paled in comparison.

This was the kiss of a lover.