Worth Keeping (20 page)

“But I wouldn’t be bloody surprised if it was a grey hair, you bastard,” he muttered, insulting the still-sleeping Nick. “And no doubt I’ll be getting real ones soon if you carry on like this.”

He looked at his watch. It was only seven p.m. and he was exhausted. He thought about making himself food but decided it would only have been lip service to his mouth. He wasn’t hungry at all. He just wanted to get into bed and sleep and hope that the next morning things would be better. He made sure everything was locked up and picked up Socks. He didn’t think the monkey should be alone either. He could sleep in his basket in their room.

“We’re a right bloody trio, aren’t we, Socks,” he murmured as he hauled the basket to the bedroom and laid it in the corner. “Two would-be suicides, one who likes slicing and dicing himself, and a monkey. This should be done as some sort of sequel to those
Hangover
movies.” He laughed softly at that thought and put Socks into the padded bed, tucking his blanket over him. The monkey regarded him with wide, solemn eyes and Owen reached out and chucked his chin.

“He’ll be all right, Socks,” he whispered. “He has you and me and Don. We’ll get him right. Damn man won’t stand a chance against a force like us.”

He undressed wearily and pulled back the covers to get into bed. He took care not to knock Nick or wake him. The cuts on Nick’s legs must have been painful but it didn’t look as if Nick had even stirred. Panic assailed Owen and he leaned forward, close to Nick’s mouth, sighing in relief when he smelt the warm but whisky-laden breath being exhaled. A warm arm came up and wrapped itself around his neck, startling him as soft lips were pressed to his in a kiss.

Nick gave a slight gasp of pain and released Owen’s mouth. “Shit, that hurt.” He let go of Owen as he lay on one side. Nick’s eyes were hidden by the darkness of the room but he felt Nick looking at him.

“You bit your lips,” Owen whispered. “I imagine they’re a little sore. You’ll need to put some lip balm on them.” He shifted slightly to lie on his back, lying looking at the ceiling.

“I’m so sorry.” Nick’s voice was tremulous, wracked with shame. “I started on the whisky and then one thing led to another. You patched me up?”

“Yes. They’re pretty nasty cuts. You’ll be damned sore in the morning. We’ll need to keep an eye on them. I don’t want them going septic.”

Nick’s body shook and Owen’s heart wrenched hearing his lover’s harsh sobs. He moved, covering Nick with his body, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Nick grabbed onto him as if he was a life preserver in a turbulent sea.

“Shh, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through this together, I promise.” Owen cuddled Nick helplessly as he cried, the tears soaking his chest. “You have me, Nick. I’m not going to let you go.”

He lay there until his lover’s body was still and the sobs had turned to deep wracking sighs. Owen though fiercely that there was no way in hell he was ever leaving this man alone with his demons. Hell would freeze over before that happened.

Chapter 13

Nick woke the next morning, a softly snoring Owen lying curled beside him, arm draped possessively over Nick’s bare stomach. Nick felt like shit. His head hurt, his throat was sore from whatever noises he’d been making while he slept—he knew he had a tendency to snore when drunk—and his legs felt as if an elephant with hobnailed boots jumped gleefully up and down on them. He inched himself away from Owen, who snorted and snuffled then settled back to sleep. Nick stood up, wincing as his cuts burned from the sudden pressure. He went to the bathroom, relieved himself and started the shower. Removing the bloody dressings from his legs, his eyes closed in guilt and shame. As he stepped into the shower, Nick hissed as the hot water hit his wounds. He sucked in his stomach in pain, gritting his teeth. Part of him needed the hurt, needed it to remind him of what a fucked-up arsehole he was. Another part despaired at the fact he’d fallen so low once again. He reached for the shower gel and soaped himself, washing away dried blood and the rank smell of booze from his body.

His hand slid over his cock and he stroked himself idly, the feelings intensifying in his groin, his skin tingling as he thought of Owen sleeping in the bed outside. Owen with his black hair, his muscular body that invited a man to touch it and run his tongue down that warm skin and those cat-like green eyes that saw deep inside Nick.

He imagined Owen’s cock, one that Nick wanted to take in his mouth and feast on like a starving man, and at that image Nick groaned loudly, his hands moving faster, the sensation of skin against skin enticing and comforting.

“Let me do that for you,” a voice whispered behind him as Owen stepped into the shower. He turned Nick to face him, the cock Nick had just been fantasising about pressing urgently against his own like a silken-sheathed sword. Owen’s lips trailed along Nick’s jawline as warm water spilled over them. His hand reached down, gripping Nick, who hitched a deep breath at the feel of that capable hand on that sensitive part of his body. Owen leaned in, gently kissing Nick’s split lip as Nick shook his head. “Owen, I’m sorry—” His words were muffled by the warm mouth covering his, the tongue sliding into his mouth, flickering like the forked tongue of a snake. Nick moaned.

“Hush, Nick. Just let me do this, will you? I’ll stay away from your legs.” Owen’s lips were gentle, his hand anything but. He jacked Nick off with a steady rhythm that left him gasping and weak-kneed as he climaxed, burying his face in Owen’s shoulder as steady streams of come shot forth, coating them both with its warmth. The two men stood pressed together under soothing rivulets of water until finally Owen pried himself off Nick’s wet body.

He grinned at Nick wickedly. “I certainly hope you were thinking about me when you starting jerking off earlier?”

Nick didn’t answer as he stared into Owen’s eyes. He was thrown by the gentle concern and another emotion in there that he wasn’t prepared to yet face.

“I’m always thinking of you.” Nick gestured uncertainly towards Owen’s still rampant erection. “Do you want me to take care of that for you? I’m afraid a blowjob’s out of the question. There’s no way in hell I can kneel with these cuts.”

Owen shook his head. “I’m fine. It’ll keep. I just wanted to do something for you.” He ruffled Nick’s hair. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Those cuts of yours need fresh gauze on them.” He stepped out of the shower and whipped a towel off the rail. “Oh, and Don’s on his way down. He’s going to stay with Heather.” His voice was even.

Nick’s body tensed. “You fucking told him about this?” He stepped out of the shower, angrily grabbing the other towel and wrapping it around his waist. “You didn’t waste any fucking time running to him and telling him how fucked up I am, did you?” His anger was a current of electricity sparking through the room. He expected the shave plug he’d had installed to fizzle and pop at anytime with the fury he felt.

Owen regarded him carefully. “Nick, I’m sure as hell not going to cross Don on this one. He told me he wanted to know when you did something stupid. I think this counts as something stupid, don’t you? And a pissed-off Don is not someone I want on my case. Not when it comes to you.” Owen finished towelling himself off, put the towel back untidily on the rail and padded off naked into the bedroom. Even in his agitated state Nick still appreciated the taut globes of his buttocks from behind.

He shook off that thought as he followed Owen into the room. “I’m a grown man, Owen. I don’t need my
dad
coming down to take bloody care of me. Or you for that matter.” He threw the towel onto the bed, opening the chest of drawers violently and taking out a tee shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants.

“Gee, you could have fooled me last night when you were drunk and bleeding in my arms.” Owen’s face was rock hard. “Having people that care about you isn’t a sin, Nick. Having people that love you isn’t a trial. It’s a blessing.”

Nick’s skin prickled at Owen’s words as he pulled on the tee shirt.

Did that mean Owen was saying he loved him?

“Anyway, Don’s going to stay with Heather so I think that will make him happy. Those two definitely have something going even if they don’t know it yet.” Owen dressed, pulling on tight blue jeans and a short-sleeved blue polo shirt that showed off his biceps. He turned to Nick and tugged the sweats he’d been about to pull on out of his hands. Nick glared at him.

“On the bed.” Owen pulled the medical aid kit off the chest of drawers. “I need to put some more dressings and antibiotic ointments on those cuts before you get dressed.”

“Wow, you can be such the dominant.” Nick stayed where he was. “I can bloody do it myself.” He knew he was being an obstinate git but he was still riled at the fact Don was once again being pulled into the maelstrom of his self-harming.

Owen shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He chucked the first aid kit onto the bed. “When you’re dressed, perhaps you can tell me what the hell happened to make you do what you did last night. You definitely need to talk about it.”

Owen left the room leaving Nick scowling fiercely at his back. He sat on the side of the bed and gingerly started rubbing ointment on his still-raw cuts, then wrapping gauze and tape over them before pulling on his sweatpants.

When he got to the kitchen, the coffee pot was on and Owen was standing making toast and frying bacon. The smell made Nick’s mouth water. Two of his favourite fragrances in one room. Three if you counted
eau de
Owen, which was probably his best one yet.

Nick plonked himself down moodily on one the chairs as he looked around. “Have you seen Socks?”

Owen turned to look at him, pointing vaguely in the direction of the bedroom. “He’s probably still sleeping in there. I put his basket in the corner last night. He was a bit upset; I found him hiding in the airing cupboard.” He turned back to his bacon.

Nick vaguely remembered seeing Socks huddling in the corner of the kitchen as he’d thrown plates and glasses around in a drunken frenzy. “Great. Another one I have to apologise to.” Guilt washed over him like a tsunami.

Owen’s back stiffened. “I don’t think we expect an apology, Nick. I just want you to tell me what the hell drove you over the edge.” He leaned over, placing a cup of coffee down in front of Nick with such violence it slopped over the rim. Nick watched as brown lines ran down the side of his cup and pooled on the table.

“I’m betting it had something to do with that little boy that was found dead.” Owen stared at him, his eyes assessing.

Nick swallowed, recalling the news footage of last night. “You guess right.” He sipped his coffee. Owen dished up bacon and slices of buttered toast and placed a plateful in front of Nick.

“Eat, Nick. You need something to soak up whatever’s left of that whisky you had last night.” He sat down with his own food and drink and began nibbling on a piece of toast. Nick watched in fascination. Owen had a thing for soaking his toast in butter so that it dripped off as he ate it. There was something extremely primal about watching Owen’s lips becoming wet and slippery with melting butter. Nick wondered idly whether the friction of those lips soaked in saturated fats would give a better BJ. He might have to test that theory…

“Hello, earth to Nick. Are you actually listening to me?” Owen’s irritated voice cut through Nick’s daydreams.

He gave himself a mental shake. “Yes, sorry. What were you saying?” He recognized he was using sex again as a means of alienating himself from talking seriously to Owen.

“I was asking what triggered it. I mean I can guess, but I’d like to hear it from you.” Owen’s voice sounded unsure for a change.

Stalling, Nick made himself a bacon sandwich and bit into it. He couldn’t quite formulate the words to tell Owen exactly how he’d felt when he’d heard a young boy had been raped to death.

Owen sat patiently waiting. Nick knew his lover was stubborn and he’d sit there all day if needs be. He swallowed his morsel of food. “Did you read the news article? I know you. You probably went online and saw what it was all about.”

Owen nodded. “I read it. He was eleven years old, the victim of a child sex ring. They’d been looking for him for a while but didn’t get there in time. Poor kid. I hope those fuckers die a horrible death one day.”

Those words sent a chill down Nick’s spine, reminding him of past events that he’d rather forget.

God, there is so much more I need to tell Owen.

“That could have been me, Owen. It took me back to those times when the same things were done to me. I was lucky, I found someone to save me. That poor kid, to die that way—” His voice choked up with the horror of the indignity and pain of Alan Parker’s dying. “It got to me. I just felt it all coming back.”

Nick’s voice became distant. “Being abused, knowing you couldn’t fight back, that all you could do was take it, because no matter what you did, your
mother
,” he spat it out, the hatred in his soul flaring at uttering that forbidden word, “would find you and drag you back to hell. Barb had eyes everywhere in the city, she and Roger. I tried running away countless times only to be found and taken back. I could at least try and escape. But that poor kid—someone took him from his family, people who actually loved him, and then those people used him like an animal for their own needs. He didn’t stand a fucking chance.” His words fell to a pained whisper. “What kind of child deserves a death like that one?”

Owen stood up, coming over to kneel beside Nick as he stroked his hair behind his ears in a tender gesture. “Baby, I know. No one deserves that, child or adult. It’s a shitty fucking place out there. But you’re still here; you made it. That’s what you need to focus on. Not feel guilty because little Alan died and you didn’t. You can’t punish yourself because you lived.”

Slow tears trickled down Nick’s cheeks as he looked into Owen’s loving eyes. The man knew him well despite their short time together. Owen reached up, his warm fingers wiping the tears from Nick’s cheeks. His own eyes shone with wetness. “Nick, I need you. I don’t know how this all happened between you and me, or even if you feel the same way as I do. But when I saw you all bloody and broken last night, Christ, Nick, you broke my heart. I can’t think about having a life without you in it.” His voice caught. “I remember holding Jules as he was bleeding to death. I couldn’t face that again.”