Give Yourself Away (9 page)

The moment of pleasure was fleeting, and as it faded, disappointment took over, accompanied by a large measure of guilt. He didn’t deserve to be happy. He didn’t deserve to be alive.

March hobbled to the bathroom, his pants around his ankles, trying to not spill what was in his hand. He tripped and fell. He wasn’t hurt, but his come ended up all over the floor and his pants. He somehow thought that if Caleb had been there, they’d have laughed. As it was, March sank deeper into despair.

When he’d cleaned up, he padded into the kitchen in his workout pants and spotted the box of biscuits he’d found on the doorstep. He opened it and ate three chocolate chip cookies, one after the other. That didn’t help his depression. He was an idiot. He was reading far too much into this. The guy was grateful he’d been rescued. He’d taken the trouble to come and tell him. March might have done the same.

Thank fuck Caleb didn’t know March had heard him ask him for a drink. He probably wasn’t even in the pub.

He retreated to his gym, put on his headphones and lost himself in the way he usually did when something stupid wasn’t available. Mindless repetitive exercise.

Chapter Nine

They knew it wasn’t much of a plan.
What Baxter didn’t know was that Tye intended to change places with him. Tye had given Liam little smiles when Baxter couldn’t see. Liam liked him best. He licked his lips when he looked at Tye. He didn’t when he looked at Baxter.

Once Liam agreed to them having a shower, they had to make sure they went to the bathroom together. Baxter warned him what he thought Liam’s price would be. A blowjob. Maybe more than that. He and Baxter had argued about who’d do it and how to do it, loud enough for Liam to hear, and Liam had almost pissed himself laughing when he’d brought their food. But the argument had been part of the plan. The
how to do it
had been deadly serious.

Baxter hadn’t sounded disgusted. He’d sounded as though he knew more about it than Tye. Tye wanted to ask Baxter if he could practice on him under the blanket, but wasn’t brave enough.

“Both of us, then,” Baxter said to Liam. “Let us shower and we’ll blow you together.”

The greedy look in Liam’s eyes had told Tye he’d agree.

Liam held a knife to Baxter’s neck as they left the cellar. Maybe he knew Tye would cooperate to keep Baxter safe. Tye was the weak link.

Turned out they were in an old house. It didn’t look like the sort of place Liam would live in, didn’t look the sort of place anyone under the age of eighty would live in. And it smelled really bad. Tye wondered then if Liam actually lived there. Maybe he just came to feed them and he had a house and a family miles from there. They couldn’t hear anything in that cellar. Not even birds.

A thin trickle of blood was running down Baxter’s neck onto his T-shirt and Tye squeezed Baxter’s hand. The knife was a problem. Maybe Liam would keep it on Baxter while Tye had his face in Liam’s crotch. Tye’s head buzzed with ideas of what to do if all of their plans were no use.

Tye spotted the window the moment they walked into the bathroom and felt a surge of relief. Big enough for either of them to get through, and out of sight of anyone in the doorway, which meant they could go with plan A, not B or C or D, assuming it would open.

Liam wouldn’t let them close the bathroom door and stood in the doorway watching. Tye went with plan A and a half—the half was his addition—and stripped quickly. He stepped into the ancient shower, aware they’d agreed Baxter would shower first. As Baxter tried to open the window, Tye never looked in his direction but stared at Liam, determined to distract him.

When Liam stepped forward as if he was about to come into the room, Tye slid his hand down to his cock and gave a quiet moan. Liam’s eyes widened and panic surged up Tye’s throat. This wouldn’t work if he didn’t get hard, and chances of that were nil. So he had to be brave.

He swallowed a couple of times and stepped out of the shower. When he reached for Liam’s pants, he pretended to stumble and was able to push Liam back a little way onto the landing.

“Sorry,” Tye whispered.

Liam shoved him to his knees and grabbed his hair.

* * *

Caleb had been thrilled when he’d seen March walking toward the pub, and dejected when he drove away again. There seemed little point hanging around, but some pathetic hope March might change his mind kept him in his seat. He glanced up every time someone came in.

Thirty minutes was long enough to be an idiot and he decided he might as well go back to the B and B and be miserable there. As he pushed to his feet, Kev walked in and Caleb hurried over.

“Hi. Remember me?” Caleb asked. “The almost-drowned rat you rescued?” He held out his hand.

Kev laughed and shook it.

“I came by the station because I wanted to thank you. But I only managed to speak to Brian so I’m glad I’ve seen you. Thanks for rescuing me. Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll have a pint of bitter, thanks.”

Caleb leaned against the bar next to him. “When I was chatting to Brian, I got the feeling there was some issue about the rescue. Brian was a bit…off. Not with me but with March.”

Kev picked up his pint and took a slug. “Don’t tell anyone I told you but March has been suspended.”

Caleb gaped at him. “But he saved my life.” No wonder the guy hadn’t opened the door, but then why had he come to the pub?

“He did, but he threw himself into the water without consulting Brian. Brian’s the helmsman and was in charge. If March had died…well, what he did was reckless and endangered all of us.”

“If he hadn’t jumped in the water I’d have died.”

“Unfortunately that’s not sufficient reason to make what he did acceptable. All four of us could have drowned.”

“Oh God. Does he have a wife and kids?” That was such a perfect opportunity to ask.

“No. But I do. And Brian does.” Kev gave him a curious look.

Damn, not such a perfect moment. “I feel terrible. It’s all my fault.”

Kev shook his head. “You fell. Accidents happen. You’re not responsible for March’s actions. It’ll probably blow over. He’ll get a slap on the wrist. That’s all.”

“If March had asked, would Brian have agreed with him going into the water?”

Kev hesitated. “I can’t speak for Brian, but I’d have been against attempting it. It was risking three lives for the sake of one. We take a risk every time we go out on a call but it’s a measured risk. The sea was rough and pushing us against the rocks. One miscalculation and…”

Caleb pressed his lips together.

“You were very lucky March was on the boat.” Kev nodded his thanks for the pint and headed across to join a couple of guys who’d just walked in.

Caleb made his way back to the B and B, annoyance at March having backed out of the invitation for a drink now overwhelmed by guilt that he’d fucked up part of the guy’s life. Caleb had no way of putting this right except maybe if he contacted the head of the RNLI and the press, saying how grateful he was?

Before he climbed into bed, he emailed both the RNLI and the local paper. Caleb only gave his initials and said he wanted to remain anonymous. Tomorrow, he’d make one last attempt to say thank you in person and then leave it.

At breakfast, Caleb paid for another night in the B and B. At some point he needed to drive to the large supermarket about ten miles away and buy not only food but all he’d need to set up a place to live, but maybe it was better to wait and see what there was in the holiday let.

He walked up the hill to March’s house armed with a letter written on a page from his sketchbook, thanking him for saving his life and asking if there was anything he could do to smooth things over with Brian.

The closer he drew to March’s house, the faster his heart pounded. No wife and no kids meant nothing. Caleb had zero reason to think March was gay. Except maybe not quite zero. Something in the way he’d looked at him on the boat when Kev was wrapping him in that emergency blanket. Some flicker of interest. Or was he making it up because he wanted him to be gay? Because March reminded Caleb a little of someone he used to know? Did he want to leap so fast from his last disastrous relationship?

He swallowed hard. The truth was Caleb functioned better when he was with someone, or at least with someone he could look forward to seeing. Being on his own made him feel vulnerable.

Caleb banged on the door. No one answered, though the Peugeot sat on the drive. How many times was it reasonable to knock before he admitted defeat? He might be the type who didn’t give in, but he also knew when to back off.

After knocking three times, Caleb sighed and walked away. He was halfway down the drive when he remembered the letter and swiveled round. He caught a glimpse of a curtain twitching and clenched his teeth.

He stomped back to the door and banged again. “Okay. You don’t want to speak to me. Fine. I just want to say two things. Thank you and sorry. Thank you for risking your life to save mine. It was very brave. But I’m sorry you got in trouble about it. I’ve sent some emails to try and put things right, though I can’t help but be glad you did what you did, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” He took a deep breath. “Again, thank you and sorry.”

As he walked away from the door, he heard it open behind him. Caleb turned to see March standing in the doorway in well-worn, faded Levi’s and a gray T-shirt. His feet were bare.

Caleb had a thing about bare feet. So did his cock. He looked at March’s face, but that was even more enticing, and he found himself tugging down his sweater. Oh fuck.

“How do you know I got in trouble?” March asked.

“Don’t tell him I told you, but Kev said Brian had suspended you for being reckless.” He took a step forward. “I can’t thank you enough for being reckless.”

March’s lips twitched into a smile. “Want to come in?”

Even as Caleb’s brain was telling him to be careful, his feet—under the control of his cock—were carrying him onward. He’d not taken more than two steps into the hall before the door slammed shut and he found himself pressed back against the wall, with March’s body plastered against his. Caleb caught a glimpse of confusion in March’s eyes, probably mirrored by the same in his, before their lips crashed together, followed by their hips bucking and March moaning against his mouth. Caleb almost came in his pants.

Fuck, that’s hot. But don’t come.

March wasn’t touching him with his hands. His arms were on the wall either side of Caleb’s head, but his body—oh fuck—March’s body was writhing against his as if he were trying to force Caleb out of his clothes. Caleb opened his mouth and March’s tongue drove in so hard and fast that for a moment choking was more of a worry than coming.

He put his hands on March’s hips to try and get him to calm down and suddenly March jerked away so that they were no longer touching. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. That one hurtful gesture shattered Caleb’s confidence, until he registered the wide-eyed look on March’s face was not one of disgust, but one of terror.

Before Caleb could speak, March grabbed his shoulder, thrust him back outside and slammed the door.

What the fucking fuck?

For a long moment Caleb just stood there wondering what the hell that had been about. Hardly a word spoken by March. A kiss that wasn’t a kiss. Except his cock was even harder than before March had yanked him inside. Stupid wanking twat. His cock, not March.

“Was it good for you?” Caleb yelled through the door. “Can I have a cup of tea next time?”

March didn’t answer.

Caleb stamped off back to the road. That was going down on his list of strange encounters of the sexy kind. Somewhere near the top. He ripped into shreds the letter he’d written and stuffed the pieces in his pocket.

March slid down the wall in the hall. He sat with his knees bent and his head buried in his arms. What the hell had he thought he was doing? He couldn’t believe he’d acted on a sudden desperation to kiss the guy. A kiss? Not even close. Fuck.

Even as he’d pressed himself against Caleb, wanting to crawl inside him, wanting to strip off his clothes and feel him, dive into his black eyes, another part of March was fighting to pull away because this was a betrayal. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t… Then Caleb had put his hands on March’s hips and March had come in his pants. Christ Almighty.

He’d freaked out.
Thirty fucking years old and I come in my pants?
Excusable when he’d been a teenager stunned by the sight of a perfectly smooth, perfectly shaped backside that perfectly fit the one he’d created in his imagination. The image of the real thing was etched in his memory.

He’d stood astride his bike waiting for his friend to take a piss against a tree. Pants had slipped to ankles to expose a beautiful butt and suddenly come had spurted from March’s cock. He remembered shouting some excuse about being late for his tea, then racing home, his dick chafing against his wet jeans.

Well, that was the last he’d see of Caleb. The guy would think March was a nutter and he wouldn’t be far wrong. March pushed to his feet and made his way to the bathroom.

I’m such a fuckup.
Caleb was definitely interested. Had been.
What am I doing?
March had finally plucked up the courage to make a move and then wrecked it by being ham-fisted. Just as well he hadn’t followed through on his plans to find a gay club miles away from here, let himself get picked up and fuck his head straight. Except he wasn’t sure he wanted to be fucked, not first, and he knew he’d give himself away as inexperienced, whether he topped or not. Could he let himself be fucked? Paying for it one way or the other seemed the better option.

Am I the guy who’d do the fucking?

The guy who’d be fucked?

How do I know which I am?

Am I both?

At the moment, I’m neither.

Then I’m nothing.

One step at a time, and that kiss that wasn’t a kiss was
not
a good first step. The only guy he’d ever wanted was gone, possibly forever, and now this guy had gone too.

March showered, dressed, put a load of washing in the machine and started to tidy when he heard banging at the door.

“I’ve bought tea bags,” Caleb shouted.

March let out a choked laugh. He found himself walking down the hall, even as he told himself not to.

Caleb stood in front of March’s door, his heart thumping, and held out a box of tea bags. “Have you eaten all the biscuits?”

March’s lips curved in a brief smile as he took the box. “Not yet.”

Invite me in.
Caleb shuffled his feet on the stones. “I saw you yesterday.”
Don’t tell him you saw him in the pub car park.
“On the water.”
Shit.
Why had he said that? Now he’d think Caleb was following him.

I was.

Oh yeah.

“You kitesurf?” March asked.

“I’ve never tried. Looks dangerous.” He kicked gravel back into the hole he’d just made in the drive. Oops. “I could probably fly a kite. You give long, steady pulls to make it go up. Then smooth, shorter tugs to get it to stay up.”
Enough of the stupid fucking hand gestures, you lunatic.
Caleb pushed his hands back into his pockets. “Only it eventually comes down.”
Shut up. Now.
“Though if you work at it, it will go up again.” He half groaned, half laughed. “I never thought of flying a kite as being erotic. I should have shut up after I said I’d never tried kitesurfing, but you’re making me nervous.”