There was an embarrassed silence around the table. Nikolas wished he’d pushed for one of his solutions. Reluctantly, he admitted he’d read the doctor’s notes from their last session. He didn’t add he’d studied the notes of every session and knew far more about Nigel and Justin’s sex life (and other things) than they could possibly imagine (or want). More tea had to be made and consumed while the two men worked through this, but eventually, Nigel asked, clearly very curious, “So, if we agreed, how would you pull it off? I mean, would you employ actors to take our roles? What? I don’t really get how this is going to work.”
Nikolas was puzzled. “No. We will take your place. I’m approximately your age, very approximately, and Ben is—”
“No, I mean, this is intensive therapy for
gay
men. How would you—you couldn’t…” He trailed off.
There was a pause, which neither Ben nor Nikolas felt willing to fill, although the words that needed to be said were fairly obvious. Justin seemed to hear them in the silence. His gaze suddenly flicked between them and he exclaimed, “You’re gay? Ben’s gay? I thought you were going to marry that model with the cocaine nose job! You can’t be gay!”
Ben appeared a little put out, but before he could comment, Nikolas snapped, “So, you agree?”
Nigel was still staring at his favourite star, probably now even more a favourite and murmured, “What’s in it for us?”
“Marital bliss?”
Three sets of eyes swivelled to Nikolas. He shrugged. “You say you want to settle down. You say you want adventure. I propose you take a holiday. An adventurous holiday. A very adventurous holiday for two months. I believe you’ll return from that experience,” he glanced at Justin, “extremely glad to settle down.”
“We can’t aff—”
“A gift from me. Two months in New Zealand. A wilderness experience. First class travel, of course.”
Both men’s brows rose. They regarded each other eagerly and nodded.
§ § §
They returned to their London house. Nikolas considered Ben as he rummaged in the fridge for something to eat. “What’s wrong?”
Ben pouted. “I want to go on a wilderness experience to New Zealand for two months…I don’t want to go on a bloody gay one.”
Nikolas sighed. “I agree. We have forty-eight hours. If your stupid friend returns before we have to leave
we
will take the flights to New Zealand.”
Ben grinned. “They were okay, though, weren’t they?”
Nikolas gave him a swift, penetrating glance. “What do you mean?”
“Nice guys. Normal.”
“What would you expect them to be?”
“I was just saying. They weren’t…”
“Wearing pink and ironing?”
“I iron, Nikolas, or have you not noticed your T-shirts—my God, you actually haven’t noticed!
Everyone
in the army irons! Jesus, did
brigadiers
have servants in Russian Special Forces?”
Nikolas was deeply puzzled. “Yes—we called them soldiers?” He ignored Ben’s theatrical roll of his eyes and ventured more seriously, “You’ve realised by now, yes, that you can’t come with me on this course?”
Ben stopped spreading butter on his toast. He just froze, and then resumed scraping. Viciously. “What do you mean?”
“Ben…”
“No. They
won’t
…”
“They will. Everyone does. A room full of gay men in crisis not recognise you? Come on…”
§ § §
Ben knew Nikolas was right. He had one of those faces. People remembered him, and although he hadn’t been on the BBC that month, ANGEL documentaries were rerun on the Discovery Channel every other day.
Nikolas pinched the side of Ben’s shirt, rubbing it between his fingers. “Grey men, Ben. You weren’t really grey when you worked for me in the department.”
Ben stuffed a piece of toast in Nikolas’s mouth to shut him up, even though he knew very well Nikolas didn’t eat carbohydrates.
Let him lick the butter, the bugger.
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you go alone.”
Nikolas, extricating himself from the toast, grumbled, “I’ve faced more threatening situations than a room full of gay men with issues, Benjamin. I think I’ll be strong enough to survive, don’t you?”
“I’m not worried about
your
survival.” He came close and kissed into Nikolas’s neck, just under his ear where he loved the smell and feel of his warm skin. “I’m worried about
my
survival when you have all that temptation in front of you.”
Nikolas kissed him back, down his dark stubble and up into his long hair. “What about temptation…behind me?”
Ben hit him, and as always the physical sparked and ignited a bonfire of need. They’d left Devon at five a.m. without their usual wake-up fun, so felt they were owed, even though it was lunchtime, and it seemed almost indecent to tumble up the stairs, undressing, wrestling and kissing. They were both so hard it was a struggle to actually hold out until they were on the bed and naked. Ben took the warm, smooth erection in his hand. “Is this for me or for thinking about all those poor men in crisis needing a strong hand?”
§ § §
Nikolas arched into
Ben’s
strong hand. The thought he could ever want anyone else when he had such beauty in front of him everyday was so far-fetched he rarely played this game—pretending to be interested in other men. He was a practised liar and convincing actor, but he wasn’t
that
good. He cupped his hand around Ben’s, making him grip tighter, but Ben struggled free, kissed him and spread himself enticingly on his belly. Nikolas paused for a minute, appreciating what he had, trickling a finger down the prominent spine, dipping it lower to elicit a hiss of need. He wound his fingers into Ben’s long hair, tugging it like reins. He loved the feel of the hair in his hands, loved how Ben looked, flowing when he walked. Twisting it now, he mounted him. Ben arched in pain as he always did, never seeming to be reconciled to what he always eventually craved.
Nikolas made it easy for him this time, easing gently until the stretch was done, the thrusting accepted, muscles relaxed and fear of pain gave way to expectation of pleasure. Then he was free to let rip, riding Ben, one hand wrapped in dark hair, the other roaming over Ben’s perfect face.
Nikolas felt himself getting close and bent to Ben’s ear. “Come with me …” He pulled out, flung Ben over onto his back, re-entered, and Ben seized his neck, dragging him down so they kissed as they came. They could feel the breath of the other in orgasm, sharing this as they shared their release, one deep inside, one releasing between them. Then they shared heartbeats coming down, the warmth and boneless entangling of limbs. Lips found lips once more, lazy now, long kisses with mouths wide open, smiling into the taste of the other, languid, unhurried and not driven by the need to jettison their loads.
And then sleep, daylight, afternoon sounds drifting into the bedroom. Even this was shared, as Ben hovered in Nikolas’s dreams, the prize for some furious fight, and Nikolas into the stormy landscapes of Ben’s sleep terrors: saviour, companion, and responsibility.
§ § §
After breakfast the next day, Ben said he was taking Radulf out.
Nikolas was tapping the phone on his palm, watching him. “I’m going to ask Jackson to come with me.” Ben froze, toying with the leather lead, watching that and not Nikolas. “You know it makes sense, Ben.”
“Jackson, not me.” He kept his back to Nikolas and left.
§ § §
Ben didn’t return until lunchtime. Jackson appeared to have been there for a while, well-read now into Nigel and Justin’s profiles.
Nikolas had recruited Jackson to ANGEL to silence him about events in Russia two years previous when they’d survived a plane crash together. But he’d proved his worth many times over since that initial, hasty hiring. Effectively, he was Nikolas’s CEO, if such a private organisation had such an office. He ran ANGEL, taking the day-to-day mundane work off Nikolas’s shoulders.
If anyone had to guess which of the ANGEL team was gay, Jackson would be top of the list. Which would be wrong—but then they’d probably put Nikolas and Ben at the bottom. Jackson appeared to model himself on a character in an American television series who’d been ferociously gay. Once Tim had pointed this resemblance out, Squeezy had seized on it to give Jackson his nickname.
Jackson was cold-hearted; he spent all his free time in the gym; he was obsessed about his looks, impressed by money, and spent more on suits and accessories than Nikolas. But unlike his role model, Jackson wasn’t gay. Nikolas claimed this was only because Jackson would never risk going out with someone who was better than him at anything.
Ben had been surprised when Nikolas hired Jackson. Theirs had been a rocky relationship in Russia. He’d been even more taken aback, therefore, that Nikolas and Jackson appeared to enjoy each other’s company now. They even, and he found this quite incredible, often went out together. Nikolas claimed they went to a gym, but Ben knew this was a lie. He hadn’t spied on them, of course—that would be beneath him, and not worthy of his trust in Nikolas. He’d had Squeezy follow them. They’d gone to a casino.
§ § §
Jackson and Nikolas were discussing tactics when Ben came into the kitchen. Nikolas dropped his tea, which then splashed over the files. He snatched them up, but kept his eyes on Ben—wide, astonished eyes. He swallowed and closed his mouth and tried to say, “What have you done?” but by the time he had found enough saliva to make a sound, only the
done
was audible. Ben knew what he meant. He shrugged.
Jackson just stared, his eyes also wide, but then he glanced uneasily between Nikolas and Ben. Without saying anything, he slid around Nikolas and left the kitchen.
Ben’s long hair had been shaved off to an inch of standing buzz, which was now white-blond. His eyes were husky-blue with hints of their natural green turning them turquoise around the irises. His stubble had been trimmed to a goatee that framed his mouth. This was also blond-white, more than startling on his deeply tanned skin. The overall effect was…utterly transformational. Nikolas might have walked past him in the street. The overall effect was…utterly stunning. Blue eyes, white hair…Ben turned his head slightly to one side. He had a diamond stud in his ear and curling up from the neckline of his T-shirt and covering his neck on that side was a tattoo of the letter N. “When are we leaving?”
Nikolas had to lick his lips again before he could summon speech. “Saturday.” When this came out correctly, he added, “Early.” He came closer. He put out a hand tentatively, his thumb brushing over the white stubble around Ben’s lips.
§ § §
Ben could read Nikolas’s thoughts as if he were actually speaking aloud, and opened his mouth, taking the thumb in, moving close, embracing him, letting Nikolas’s lips and tongue explore everything and discover that he hadn’t changed anything other than the superficial, which would change back soon enough. The tattoo was temporary. The hair would take a while to grow back out again, but he’d shaved it once before. No harm done this time. So precisely did Ben know Nikolas’s thoughts he wasn’t even surprised when Nikolas murmured, “No scabs this time.”
Ben nodded, hugging him tighter. “I couldn’t let you go without me.” Then he added with a slight huff that betrayed the fact he wasn’t quite so sanguine about Nikolas’s friendship with Jackson as he appeared, “I couldn’t let you go with
Kinney
.”
Nikolas held him off, eyeing Ben speculatively, especially the hair, then gazing with an annoyed look at his new eye colour. He turned him round to examine the back then spun him once more to face front. “As you would say, Benjamin—fuck me.”
Ben grinned. “Okay.” He kissed Nikolas and ruffled his hair. “So, you’re okay with this?”
“Okay isn’t the word I’m currently thinking, but what I’m thinking doesn’t have an equivalent in English.” He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Ben, just kept watching him with a bemused shaking of his head. “You still look like ex-Special-Forces-Expert Ben Rider, you know.”
Ben nodded, unconcerned. “Look
like
. I’ll play on it. Say, yeah, I know, poncy git.”
Nikolas appeared to want to say more but for the first time in their relationship, he seemed utterly at a loss to find words in any language to say anything. Not at all bothered, Ben went to put the kettle on and was about to ask Nikolas what he and Kinney had been discussing when the doorbell rang.
Ben went to answer it and was…overwhelmed with flowers. He staggered back into the kitchen, followed by Kate with still more flowers in her arms. She dumped her load on the table and indicated for Ben to do likewise. Nikolas frowned deeply as if he’d thought his life couldn’t get any odder that day. “You’re bringing Ben flowers now?”
§ § §
Kate was staring at Ben, but answered, exasperated, “They’re not for him. They’re for you.” She hoped he got the
moron
she mentally concluded this with and suspected he did. She added
wanking tosspot
—one of Squeezy’s favourite Nikolas expressions when they discussed him in private—and suspected he’d heard that, too. She was fairly sure people had said worse to him in his life out loud. Possibly just before he’d tortured or murdered them. Or fucked them.
“You’re bringing me flowers. To bribe me to let you f…?”
She shifted her study to Nikolas for a moment with a frown. “Bribe you? These are for you to practise on.” Her attention drifted back to Ben, her head tilting to one side and then the other. It was incredible. Simple things, but the transition from Ben Rider, to being almost another man entirely was impressive. He resembled the old Ben, but this new Ben only served to emphasise just how beautiful, how perfect the original version of the man was. Kate felt a distinct stirring, and not necessarily the sexual one she always felt around Ben. This time it was more maternal. She wanted to remove the ear stud—tell Ben he didn’t need it, that perfection didn’t need enhancement. She wanted to change the hair back to the luscious black shine with chocolate and vanilla highlights that he seemed so unaware of.