§ § §
Once over his initial embarrassment of being forced together for the day, and realising Philipa wasn’t going to tell him anything he wanted to know, Ben enjoyed his day immensely. He had his blond growth cut out and that made him look and feel more himself. He bought some groceries, based on Philipa’s advice about what meat Nikolas liked to eat, not sure why she laughed at this, but not calling her on it, and then they’d taken Radulf for a walk along the canal and had lunch in The Turf—the only pub in Britain, so Philipa informed him, which was not accessible by car. It served only locally sourced food and all the ale and wine was from either Devon or Cornwall. Even the gin Philipa drank (in impressively large quantities) was from Plymouth. When Ben commented politely that Philipa had a good appetite, she merely replied dryly that food was clearly something else they had in common.
They arrived home at teatime to find a car in the driveway in front of the house. Neither of them recognised it, but as they entered the kitchen, Kate rose from the table and introductions were made. Kate explained Nikolas had sent her to relieve Philipa. Of babysitting duties? Yes. Both women laughed, and Ben made a show of being annoyed. Secretly he was enjoying all the attention. Philipa made her farewells and they were left together. Ben claimed he wanted to start on dinner. Kate suggested why not relax first—a swim maybe?
Ben loved anything physical and agreed. He didn’t know if he owned a swimsuit, though. So what?—she hadn’t brought one.
They agreed skinny-dipping would be fine.
After all, she was the one thing he did remember.
He remembered a lot of her…
§ § §
Nikolas arrived back at the house just after midnight. He’d been tempted to stay in London overnight but felt incredibly guilty at leaving Philipa for so long. She knew the house well and would no doubt have made herself at home, but she was a busy woman. All the royal family were always incredibly busy.
He saw the car from the ridgeline. The glass house threw light out, illuminated the valley. It was one of the reasons he’d had the house designed so—their lives had needed a little more light shinning upon them at the time. Sometimes, however, it was a disadvantage. He not only saw the car, he recognised it. It was Kate’s car.
The house was quiet. Radulf rose from his basket and padded over to greet him. The kitchen was a mess. Someone had cooked. There were three or four empty bottles of wine on the counter.
He heard scuffling of bare feet on granite floor slabs, controlled his expression, and turned. Ben was coming out of the room he’d been put in, scratching his ribs idly, a sheet wrapped loosely around his waist. “Oh, hi. You’re late.”
“Did I wake you?”
“Sorry. I promised I’d stay up but—”
“Kate came.”
Ben grinned and slid onto a stool alongside Nikolas. “Yeah, she did.” He poked Nikolas’s arm in a friendly way. “
Lots of times
. Jogged my memory about all kinds of things.”
“Yes. I wondered. When I saw the car.”
Ben leant over to grab a piece of cheese left on the counter. “I’m starving.”
Nikolas decided not to play anymore. Sometimes even his great reserves of strength deserted him.
He strode over to the bedroom door and looked inside, nodding to himself as he saw the sleeping woman sprawled naked in Ben’s bed. Ben seemed to sense some change in the atmosphere and ventured hesitantly around a mouthful of cheddar, “Sorry. But she said you didn’t mind Squeezy and whatshisname sleeping together, so I guessed you wouldn’t mind us…Philipa is really nice, by the way. We had a great day. Do you like my hair?”
“Yes. I do. I’ve always liked it. I’m very tired, Ben. I’m going to bed. Will you tell Kate I’ll speak with her later? Will you make sure to tell her that? Those exact words. In fact, tell her that
when I find her
, I’ll speak with her. Can you remember that for me? Goodnight.” Nikolas started to go toward the rear of the house then turned abruptly and headed back out into the moonlight. He tilted his face to the sky for a moment then strode off across the manicured lawn.
§ § §
Ben might have lost his memory, but he hadn’t lost his faculties. His boss was upset about something. His boss was upset about…Kate. He looked toward the bedroom.
Oh, shit
. He’d suddenly worked out who Philipa had been talking about—who Nikolas was seeing. The love of his
fucking life
!
He knotted the sheet more securely around his waist and ran out after Nikolas. The gravel hurt his feet, but he made it to the lawn, hopping slightly and picking stones out of his flesh. He could see a blur of white from the direction of the stables: Nikolas’s shirt. It was freezing. He picked up the sheet like a belle of the ball holding her skirts away from dew and ran on.
Nikolas was in the stable talking quietly to his horse, his face pressed to her warm coat.
He’d obviously heard Ben’s arrival but didn’t acknowledge him. Ben went closer, the warmth and smell of the stable oddly comforting, and said quietly and simply, “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. She didn’t tell me.”
“I’m busy, Benjamin, can we talk about this some other time?”
“I didn’t know! I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you! I—I mean, fuck. I didn’t know, okay?”
“You’ll startle the horses. Be silent. What are you talking about?”
“You and Kate! You implied you didn’t have a girlfriend, but Philipa told me you had this great love of your life. I didn’t realise it was Kate! Christ. What a total fuck up.”
He realised he was shouting again so calmed his voice, going closer to Nikolas. Very cautiously, he put a hand on Nikolas’s arm. “What can I do to make this better? I’ll do anything.”
Nikolas straightened and considered him. “You could go and take a shower. You stink of her.” He shook off the hand and walked away, back out into the dark.
Ben felt as if he’d been slapped. He actually staggered a little. He hardly knew this man, couldn’t understand why his words had affected him as they did. He hung his head, looking at his filthy feet but then sensed a presence alongside him, and a hand fixed on his bare arm.
“I’m sorry. That was not fair of me. I don’t take betrayal very well. I had forgot how it felt. I’ve become soft in someone’s unswerving loyalty to me; it has weakened me. This was
not
your fault. Do you understand me? When you regain your memory, you must remember that. Not
your
fault.
Promise me
.”
“What—?”
“Ben! Promise me!”
“Okay, sheesh. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, but I promise.” He stared down at the hand still on his arm and laid his over it. He felt an overwhelming sense this man needed something more from him. Apology? Contrition? Friendship?
He slowly put his arms around Nikolas and sensed rigidity melt, heard a whispered, “Don’t.” But he did. He hugged tighter. And then the unbelievable, unforgivable happened. He’d come from a bed tumbled with sex. He was only wearing a sheet. These were contributing factors, maybe, but he felt himself hardening with desire for a lot more than a simple embrace. His nose was at the man’s neck; the smell made Ben want to open his mouth, bite him, taste him, swallow him whole—the unthinkable utterly and completely
right
. He didn’t even shock himself. He’d wanted to do this when they’d been standing together on the moors with the horses. This was the happiness he’d sensed hovering so close. Everything surged and pulsed and came to life in the smell and feel of this man’s skin.
He pulled him closer, despite knowing what Nikolas would do now—what
any
man would do in the same circumstance, when a hug with another man changed. When it all went badly wrong between friends. It was going to be awful and bloody, but he couldn’t help it.
“Ben…stop.
Please
.” It was whispered. It was heartfelt.
The man is six foot four, built like a brick shit house, but he whispers please when another man tries to fuck him?
Ben jerked his head back, his eyes wide. “That’s all you say?” Realisation hit him. “I’ve wanted this before! This has happened between us before!”
§ § §
Nikolas heard a car door slam and a crunch of tyres on gravel. He guessed Kate had worked out for herself what his message to her might be. Ben shook him to make him focus again.
“
Ben, stop
? How many times have you had to say that to me?”
Nikolas looked back at him. “I don’t recall ever saying stop to you before.”
Ben stepped back. Blood draining from his face. “You and me. We’ve…?” His sheet slipped and he grabbed at it.
Nikolas said nothing.
“I don’t believe you.”
Nikolas still said nothing.
Ben seized the front of the white shirt. “Show me.” He slammed Nikolas against the wall of the stable and took his mouth in a searing kiss, grinding himself shamelessly against every inch of the hard body. The sheet came loose again, fell off. He was naked. Nikolas reversed them, Ben’s back to the wall. He slid his hands beneath Ben’s naked arse cheeks and lifted him.
Afterwards, he couldn’t work out how he’d done this and released himself at the same time—perhaps Ben had done that for him—but he held Ben lifted and spread against the wall and entered him. Ben cried out in pain. But then he always did, and it was incredibly familiar despite being the first time they’d done it this way—Ben suspended, held up only by the power of
his
cock.
§ § §
Ben came first. For him, it was the first time climaxing like this, being brought off from the intense pleasure of being penetrated. At the same time though it was
not
the first, for even in his fog of confusion, he didn’t find it strange or frightening—his body remembered, even if his conscious mind did not. It was all pleasure, and he wanted more as soon as it was over.
They fell to the ground. Ben knew Nikolas had come too. He could feel the hot spill inside him, on him, leaking from him. He levered naked over the dressed man and ground into him again, mouth, cock, hands. He ripped the shirt open, unbuckled the belt, came back in for a kiss and then bit hard into the neck he’d been thinking about all through the fucking. Nikolas arched in pain beneath him but rolled them so he was on top, and bit back, teeth around Ben’s nipple. The bite drew blood and Nikolas sucked it, nuzzling in, and even this wasn’t weird, although Ben knew he’d never been bitten by a girlfriend or sucked, so couldn’t understand the familiarity. He grabbed the blond hair, anchoring his fingers in the long strands and tugged Nikolas up to kiss. He wanted to feel the stubble again.
Suddenly, he held Nikolas off, ignoring the grunt of protest, and stared at him—the dishevelled stranger above him—and Ben saw with startling clarity the contrast between what had just happened in the white bed in the pale room and this—on the floor of the stable, in the muck and the straw. He groaned, threw Nikolas off, turned him face down, ripped the tailored suit trousers lower and entered him. This too should have given him pause.
Where? How? Can I?
There was no hesitation at all. He knew exactly what to do and how to do it, where to angle each thrust, how to lift the hips and make it so good that this silent man scrunched his fingers in the straw and groaned and ejaculated again, his release wetting Ben’s fingers, which had been there at just the needed moment to catch it.
Ben fell onto Nikolas’s back, panting, feeling Nikolas breathing equally raggedly beneath him. Suddenly, Ben slapped the back of the blond head. “You
fucking bugger
!”
Nikolas extricated himself, his face a study in outrage. “What the—?”
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
“Don’t swear at—”
“Why not? I’ll swear if I want! You don’t bloody own me!”
§ § §
Nikolas was trying to regroup, to point out how untrue this was—but Ben hit him again. “We’ve done this before and you
kept it from me
!”
“For your own good!”
“How could that be for my own good? How many times?”
“What? How many times did I keep it from you?”
“No, you moron! How many times have we fucked? How many times?”
“I don’t know!” What was four times a day, multiplied by three hundred and sixty five, times eight years? No, five times a day. Six? Minus—“Occasionally. Occasionally a lot. Often. Most of the time. We’re—”
“We’re
what
?”
Nikolas rested his forehead for one moment against the smooth stable wall, his eyes closed. No one came to help him so he just pointed out as calmly as he could, “We’re on the floor of the stable, Ben, and it’s cold. Shall we get up and return to the house?”
§ § §
They sat at the counter, Ben rewrapped in his sheet, examining his feet, and Nikolas picking straw out of his dishevelled shirt and trousers.
Ben began eying him.
Nikolas thought he might.
It was an awkward situation; there was no denying that.
It was exactly what he’d tried to avoid happening by not telling Ben what their relationship had been. Worried what this might be doing to Ben’s fractured mind, he asked tentatively, “Do you feel all right? Andrea Gillian insisted—” He was silenced by a sudden kiss. Ben slid off his stool and pressed against him. Nikolas opened his thighs and took Ben between them, lifting his legs, wrapping them around the knotted sheet. Incredibly, Ben lifted him. They tumbled to the floor. Nikolas tried to say he didn’t fuck in the kitchen, but it was too late. Ben had freed him and taken him into his mouth.
It was Nikolas’s favourite thing, and he lay staring up at his perfect chrome pans, freshly polished by his cleaning service that day, and couldn’t have stopped what happened if he’d been a saint. He was far from that so it did happen. He shot hard and fast. He would have returned the favour, but he wasn’t sure he could move. He heard a rustle and click-clicking then saw Radulf from upside down. Radulf licked his face. Nikolas would have advised him not to if he’d thought about it. The dog sneezed at the odd taste and padded over to the door, wagging his tail hopefully. Ben stood up and offered Nikolas his hand. Nikolas accepted the gesture and waved at Ben’s sheet, which had slipped once more. “I’ll take him out.”