A red tainted Silence (39 page)

“Sorry. Guess I was more tired than I thought. What are you reading?” I asked, pulling myself up a bit and resting my cheek on his shoulder.

He tossed the magazine aside. “Another article on the press conference.”

“What did it say?” My gaze followed the magazine’s flutter to the floor. I’d still not looked at any of the articles beyond the one. Didn’t really want to. Not out of denial, this time. Just because I really didn’t care what people thought.

“Same as the others, I guess. Couldn’t concentrate, so I’ve actually been watching you sleep.”

“Move over a bit more. I’m about to fall out, and my butt is still freezing.”

“Complain, complain. You could’ve slept in your own bed, you know.” I snorted. “As if you’d let me. You just need to learn to share. Move it.” He grinned, doing as I asked, his expression sly. He turned to face me. I pulled the covers back over us, snuggling into his warmth. He slid a hand over my butt and then rubbed it briskly again, making me squirm.

“Cut that out,” I said, laughing as I slid my hand under the cover and tried to bat his hand away. The boy proved amazingly strong. After a brief struggle, I gave up. He crowed in 226

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victory, but pulled my hips closer to his, slid one leg between mine, and ran his hand down my thigh. I pushed my growing erection against him.

“You really are cold, Brandon. Except for maybe this one place, that is.” He reached between us then and grasped my dick with one hot hand. “You’re so hard,” he said. “Were you dreaming of me?”

“Of course I was, silly. You’re always in my dreams. You are my dream.”

“Brandon. Wow. Thanks.”

I grinned at his wonder. He rubbed his thumb lightly over me, gently stroking back my foreskin, making me groan at his deliberately teasing touch. “You sure you want to do that?” I whispered, pushing myself into his grasp. “I might lose all my amazing, iron-willed control.”

He smirked. “Oh, I’m sure, all right. I love it when you throw out your inhibitions. You don’t do it enough, not nearly enough.”

“I will from now on. Promise.”

I nuzzled his neck, making him giggle. I loved it when he did that. His fingers found my balls, cupping them, squeezing gently as he rolled them in his hand. The temperature beneath the covers rose by fifty degrees, at least.

I lifted my leg, hooking it -- cast and all -- over him, and covered his smaller hand with my own, my fingers resting lightly on his. I loved the feel of his hand moving beneath mine as he took his time exploring me. Stroking me. Learning me, again.

I sighed in contentment and kissed his neck, pushing his collar back, getting teasingly close to one of his satin-covered nipples.

I loved being played with, feeling his nimble fingers on me. For Nicholas, it was his nipples. I could drive him wild just kissing them, bare or not, and did so now, suckling one through the satin and making him yelp. His hand convulsed on me, making me gasp. I nuzzled him on the neck again, pulled his hand away, entwined his fingers with my own, and grasped them tight.

I pushed him onto his back. His eyes widened, face flushed. He held my shoulders with his hands, tilted his head to the side in suspicion. “What do you think you’re doing, Brandon?”

“Proving it to you.”

He looked at me, puzzled. “Proving what?”

“That it’s more fun to share,” I whispered into his ear, teasing it with my tongue.

“Especially with me.”

Before he could protest, I carefully slid between his legs and covered his mouth with my own. So hot. So sweet. I couldn’t stop moving against him, building the friction between us though he was only semi-erect through his satin pajama bottoms.

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“You’re so hard,” he murmured. “Hungry?”

“Mm-hmm. For you.”

“Sorry I’m not --”

I silenced him with a kiss. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you there.” My heart swelled at his shy smile. He cupped my face between his hands, that look of wonder back on his face.

“Love you, Brandon.”

“Love you, too, Nicholas. Very much. More than you know.”

“It’s so beautiful, hearing you say that. So unafraid.” I gave him a half-smile. “This, I’m not afraid of anymore.” I suddenly had the wild urge to plunge into him and rock him hard until I exploded deep inside him. But I couldn’t do that, at least not yet. I knew I’d need to be patient with him -- his injuries had been horrible, had nearly taken him from me. He needed more time; his body needed a little more persuasion to respond.

Fine with me.

Yet now he returned my kisses eagerly, hungry as I was to reconnect at last. “I’ve waited ... so long ... for this,” he said between kisses, his voice soft with longing.

“I know, I know. Me, too,” I said, the now-familiar pang of regret rising in me. I pushed it aside, though -- Nicholas was too astute by far, and I didn’t want him to know how much it pained me, knowing how much I’d hurt him even though he’d said he’d forgiven me.

Guess I hadn’t forgiven myself yet, didn’t know if I ever could.

I reached back and adjusted the covers over us both, then slowly slid my hand up his uninjured side, making him flinch and sigh all at once. I could feel him flex his toes as he squeezed me between his thighs. Heat flushed his face, his neck, his chest. It’d always fascinated me, how Nicholas flushed all over like that.

How I was the one who made him do it. Could still make him do it.

I gently bit his lower lip and brushed across his rough cheeks, loving the burn. Talk about needing a shave. His hands crawled up my back, along my spine, grasping my upper arms and squeezing. Holding on.

I grinned as he tilted his head back to expose his throat, and I happily complied with his silent request, playfully nudging and kissing his neck beneath his ear and along his jaw line before returning to his lips. I pulled back, grinding my hips into him, and looked into his eyes -- so blue, so happy as he looked at me, so filled with passion.

He’d swelled beneath me at last.

“Now look who’s hard,” I said.

“Me?” he said, grinning.

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“Yeah.” I bit my lip, shaking my head as I leaned on one hand and brushed his hair back with the other. “You need a haircut.”

He giggled, shaking his head like Barkley. “I look like a mop.”

“Huh. So do I.”

He reached up, running his fingers through my hair. “I don’t know, I kinda like it long like this. You look nineteen again.” He twisted his fingers in my hair and smiled. I searched his face, drenching myself in the dazzling power of Nicholas.

I leaned my forehead against his. “Definitely not nineteen anymore. Thank God. Are you sure you’re ready for this? We could wait --” He pressed a finger against my lips and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.” I sighed as his hands, so warm and smooth, slid beneath the covers and down my bare back to cup my butt cheeks again. He squeezed, pulling me harder against him. I ground my hips into his, my dick into his, making him press one cheek against the pillows and groan with the pleasure-pain of it.

“Brandon ...”

His body was so hot. “Yeah?” I said, kissing his cheek.

“What time is it?”

I pulled back, a laugh escaping me. “I, um ...” I glanced at the clock. “It’s almost seven.

Why?” And why now? I studied his face as he looked at me, the slight edge of worry shadowing his eyes -- and I realized he was nervous. My Nicholas, nervous about sex? I tensed, worried. “Am I pushing you too fast, Nicholas?”

“No, no. It’s just that we missed dinner.”

Mmm, yeah. He was nervous, all right. And for once, I wasn’t -- big switch, that.

Always before, it’d been me who was the anxious one. “Big loss.” He ran his hands up to my waist and down again. “Yes, you’re getting kinda plump anyway. You need to go about forgetting to eat again. What are you, up to a 34-inch waist?”

“Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Whoa. Big boy. I won’t even tell you what I was wearing before ... before I was kidnapped. Not that I’d recommend six weeks of bread and water just to lose twenty, thirty pounds.”

“Nicholas,” I whispered. I propped myself on one elbow, stroking his hair back and cradling his face, willing the brief spate of horror away from his eyes. I brushed his eyebrows with my thumb. “Don’t think about it. Not right now.”

“I-I’ll try not to.”

How I wished he would forget. But then, I was the prince of worries myself, so I couldn’t blame him for his fears.

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I kissed him again -- I would never get enough of those lips -- and reached for the top button of his pajama top. I undid the first one and slid my fingers beneath to touch his slightly furred chest. He’d gotten a little hairier since we’d been apart, though they’d shaved a bunch of it off for the surgery.

He was getting kinda prickly in places. I cupped one of his pecs, flicking his nipple with my thumb. He drew in his breath and twisted his head to the side, closing his eyes. His breath quickened. So easy.

I undid the next button, pushed the fabric away, and kissed him on his exposed pale skin. I wasn’t so tan anymore myself, but still, compared to me his skin was almost bluish-white. He sighed, twisting his head back to look at me. I unbuttoned the last of the buttons.

“Why did you think of that now, Nicholas? Here, let’s get this shirt off.”

“It just hits at the weirdest times.” He drew his arms out of his sleeves and let me pull the shirt away. I tossed it aside. “I just get real sad and scared all of a sudden.” I knew all about that. “I don’t want you to be sad right now, okay?” He grinned at me, but I saw his chin tremble despite his best effort. “I’m behaving like a little girl,” he said.

“No, you aren’t. Not after what you went through, what you had to go through to survive.”

He wiped a hand over his face, then pulled me to him, kissing me, our bare chests pressed together, though I tried not to push on him too hard. Still, damn, he felt good. I yielded to him, the force of his lips on mine, the deep plunging into my mouth -- exorcising his demons with a kiss. I hoped it worked for him. Wished it would for me. My demons were too darn stubborn.

Not that I would tell him about that.

I finally broke away, needing desperately to breathe.

“Whoa.” I smiled at him. “You always do that, steal my breath away.” He blew on my face. “Breathe, Brandon,” he said with a smile, echoing the countless times he’d had to tell me that in the past when I’d been a little more out of control than I was now.

I tapped him on the chest, then trailed my fingers down to his waistband and tugged on it. “You know, we should’ve stripped you naked before we fell asleep,” I said as I pushed myself awkwardly to my knees. It was kind of hard with a cast and all.

“You’re the nudist, not me.”

“I’ve never known you to complain about my lack of attire in bed.” His gaze raked over me. “Are you kidding? Why would I?” 230

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With a grin, I swooped down and kissed his satin-clad erection, making him gasp, then pulled down his pajama bottoms (he hardly assisted me at all, the brat, just watched me struggle in amusement) and tossed them onto the floor, too.

“What, you’re not going to fold them?” he teased.

I placed my hands on his thighs. “Yeah, right. Spread ’em, boy.” His breath caught, and mine did, too. The vulnerability in his eyes as he did as I’d told him to -- opened himself to me -- sent shivers through me that couldn’t be blamed on the chill in the room.

He slid his hands up under his pillows, his lips slightly parted as he waited for me to do whatever I planned next. I’d never seen him like this, and it excited me, his eager submission. I brushed my fingers in those shadow places, memorizing the feel and the sight of him, marrying the two sensations so that later I could take out the memory and savor it.

I ran my hands up and down his thighs, cupping his balls with one hand, gently massaging them. I bent down a bit awkwardly -- darn cast and narrow bed and freezing besides -- and took him in my mouth, making him cry out in shock. He hadn’t expected that.

His head thrashed from side to side, his toes curling as I mouthed him, swirling my tongue around the silky, soft tip, pushing against the head -- unlike me, he was cut --

sucking gently on him as I reached up with my free hand, seeking and finding his left nipple.

I tweaked it with my fingers while continuing my assault on his nether region, a surge of desire rocketing through me as he bucked beneath me, pushing his dick deeper into my mouth.

“Brandon, fuck,” he moaned, sinking his fingers into my hair.

“Working on it,” I said, kissing his shaft down to the base.

“You gotta stop, or I’ll explode. Please.”

I looked up, captured his gaze with my own, and, with a grin, took my place between his legs again. But this time, bare skin met bare skin.

Oh, how he belonged to me.

I lay against him for a moment, just feeling him, wishing it wasn’t so blasted cold.

Drinking in his scent of warm skin and the baby lotion the hospital supplied that he’d fallen in love with. Stealing his warmth.

Remembering.

He stroked my hair, caressing my cheek, playing with my earrings. He’d stopped wearing his -- I wasn’t even sure when. I’d have to get him a new earring, and soon.

With a grin I sat up again, patting his legs to make him put them together so I could straddle him. I had to stick my leg with the cast out to the side, sort of, finally giving up and letting it hang over the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” he said with a confused laugh, rubbing his hands on my thighs.

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“Hold on.” I took the gold hoop out of my right ear and looked down at Nicholas.

Understanding glowed in his eyes. I held it out to him. “Nicholas, would you wear my ring?” His grin lit up the room. “Yes, I would. Will you put it in? I hope it doesn’t hurt. It’s been a while since I’ve worn one.”

Leaning over, I slid the hoop into the single hole in his left earlobe. Despite the way he winced, it went in easily. Once I got it fastened, we grinned at each other and I laid my head on his chest, cuddling against him. He stroked my hair and ran his hand down my back. I wiggled my hips, thrusting my dick against his. He laughed, then kissed me on my forehead.