Bone Idol (9 page)

Henry gave him a quizzical look, but settled himself on the ground, stretching out on the cold, red earth and bringing his arms up behind him, elbows bent, so he could cushion his head with his hands.

In the cool of the shadow beneath the rock, his nipples were pebbled, the dark areas around them crinkled with cold. Albert wanted to take each one between his lips and warm it with his breath, swirl his tongue around each nub and feel it peak between his lips. But instead he went to lay beside Henry, still fully dressed, his head supported on one hand.

He leaned over and kissed Henry’s temple, flicking his tongue out to taste the thin sheen of sweat that dewed his skin despite the cold. Then he moved his lips down and over his jawbone, feeling the faint roughness of his skin, even though it was clean-shaven.

Henry moved to turn towards him, to take him in his arms, but Albert leaned over and put his hand flat against Henry’s chest, above his heart, and whispered, “Stay where you are.

Please. I’m a scientist, too, you know.” He smiled as Henry drew his brows together in confusion, and lavished a long, slow lick along his bottom lip. “Let me study you,” he explained.

He ghosted his fingers across Henry’s skin and took his nipple between his fingers, feeling a surge of triumph in his chest and a jolt of lust in his balls as the other man’s eyes glazed, their bright and flawless blue clouded with passion.

His hips flexed almost unconsciously as he moved down Henry’s body, the friction of his cock against Henry’s thigh a welcome torment. He lapped at the flat softness of his belly, dipping his tongue into his navel and moaning when Henry growled and writhed beneath him.

Then he straddled his knees, licking lower, nipping at the trail of hair that ran from Henry’s navel to his cock, sucking on the skin, scraping his teeth over the curved protuberance of his hip bone.

He allowed his breath to wash over Henry’s bobbing cock, teasing him, tormenting him, and he wanted so badly to take him into his mouth. He wanted to suck him until he was short of breath and lights flashed behind his eyes, to feel Henry give up his rigid self-control and thrust deep into his throat, crying out with raw passion. But he didn’t.

Instead, he wriggled further down Henry’s body and lifted his knee, bending his leg so he could place a soft kiss on the inside of his thigh, could swipe his tongue along the crease between his leg and his body, barely touching his balls. He heard Henry give a heartfelt little groan of frustration, and smiled against his skin. He nipped the tendon at the back of Henry’s knee, all the while working his way down his leg, then kneeled back and brought Henry’s foot into his lap so he could lower his head and lift it to kiss the bone of the ankle, the tender arch of the foot.

He placed Henry’s foot back on the ground and sat back on his heels, watching his lover as he lay writhing in the red dust. Despite the cold, his skin was pink and flushed, and his breath came in quick, shallow pants. Even though Albert was no longer touching him, he turned his head from side to side as if seeking relief from his unbearable arousal. Strands of sticky, opaque fluid stretched between his belly and the head of his cock, and again Albert www.total-e-bound.com

wanted to suck it until Henry clutched Albert’s head and forced himself deeper, crying his name.

Albert took his own cock in his hand through the fabric of his trousers, squeezing hard, trying to assuage the fierce, painful arousal that had him feeling as though he might come even though Henry hadn’t touched him at all.

Henry opened his eyes and said in a drowsy, lust-addled voice that was quite unlike his usual, clipped tones, “Come here, Albert. Come to me.”

But Albert shook his head. He hadn’t finished exploring yet, examining his lover’s body. “Turn over,” he said.

“Turn…?”

“Turn over,” insisted Albert, and, to his delight, with a soft moan as his engorged penis rubbed against the cool earth below him, Henry obliged.

Albert moved forwards and parted Henry’s legs. He gently bit his Achilles tendon and giggled when Henry grunted and jerked. Then he licked his way up his defined calf muscle to the back of his knee, peppering a series of kisses and gentle nips up the back of his thigh before swiping his tongue into the crease between thigh and buttock.

Then, reverently, he placed a palm on each round, taut globe of Henry’s arse. His skin was fever-hot under his fingers as he eased the cheeks of his arse apart and leant forward to tentatively touch his tongue to the puckered ring between them. Henry groaned and pushed back against his mouth, his arse opening gently at the intrusion of Albert’s tongue. Albert withdrew his tongue and lapped at Henry’s opening again, panting and digging his fingers into his lover’s buttocks as he felt his own cock twitch and spurt as he came in wave after pounding wave, his semen sticky inside his trousers, merely from the electrifying sensations of exploring Henry’s body with his fingers and tongue.

He cried out and slid his hands around Henry’s hips, grasping his cock when he obligingly lifted his arse to give him access.

The satiny rod throbbed in his palm and he bit the globe of Henry’s arse, squeezing his eyes shut with pleasure, his own orgasm cresting again as Henry tensed and shuddered, calling his name over and over again in a series of hoarse, almost agonised shouts.

Exhausted and trembling, Albert slumped, laying his head in the small of Henry’s back where his sweat was cooling on his sticky skin. He could still taste his lover on his tongue; still shuddered with the aftershocks of the pleasure he had gained from pleasing
him
.

“I love you,” he murmured against Henry’s skin, so softly he wasn’t sure he would hear him. “I love you.”

Dawlish grinned as he strode back to his tent. How
touching
. Boundry’s son fancied himself in love.

Not that he’d needed his suspicions confirming. But he couldn’t help feeling gleeful. It was more than just a dirty fuck in the desert, that much was clear. And that meant that Elkington and his lover would go to even greater lengths to protect one another. And that gave him power.

His wife was off somewhere with the reverend, talking about dusty old bones with the man. Well, he was practically a relic himself. Maude seemed unaccountably fond of the old fool. He laughed. His wife always had been soft-hearted.

With the two younger men mooning over each other like newlyweds, when the hired hands had knocked off for the night it would leave the field clear for Gideon. In the evening, the workmen would be off in their tents and makeshift huts, drinking flagons of beer to soothe their dusty throats. Apart from the occasional burst of distant laughter or a bobbing light making its way through the twilight as someone answered a call of nature, the camp would be quiet.

Gideon had already stolen and hidden away a few small, choice finds. And he had established a rapport with a porter at the station, with a combination of largesse and easy charm. The man would help him to smuggle his finds back to his agents in New York. The market for palaeontological finds, even those without a clear provenance, was large and lucrative.

That night, though, he intended to target the wonderful new discovery everyone had been talking about. From what he had overheard, the specimen had been extracted from the rock and would be available for study and for shipping back to England the following morning.

Except it would not be. And Gideon had the perfect scapegoat for his plan.

* * * *

Albert’s dreams were uneasy, erotic.

He had slipped from Henry’s tent once true darkness had fallen, not wanting to expose his very proper lover to the inevitable censure they would face if they were found curled in each other’s arms. Leaving the warmth of Henry’s body had felt like a bereavement, and he had almost weakened when Henry had reached out for him in his sleep, but he had left all the same.

He was too hot underneath his thick blanket and twisted restlessly, lips parted as he whimpered at the replay of new and extraordinary sensations, as he saw Henry’s lips and eyes and fingers behind his closed eyelids, felt the pressure of Henry’s body above him and inside him again…

Even in his half-sleep he was vaguely aware of the pleasurable soreness of his arse, and he wriggled, savouring the sensation even as he groped for a sleep that was elusive.

Suddenly, his fragile drowse was violently ruptured by a ghastly noise, louder than any thunder—a series of sharp retorts followed by a loud, low grumbling that made the ground shake. A water canteen on the crate Albert had been using as a bedside table skipped along the wooden surface and clattered to the floor. Albert leapt out of bed, hurrying to the flap of his tent in his nightshirt. He heard men beginning to shout, and he could pick out Maude’s clear, musical tones as she demanded to know what was happening.

Looking out across the campsite, Albert gasped. The desert night was lit up like a fiery sunset—orange flames licked the midnight sky, and a great black pall of smoke rose towards the stars. There was an unmistakable smell of sulphur in the air. Workmen ran hither and yon in an obvious state of panic. It was like a vision of hell.

Albert grabbed one of them by the arm as he passed by. It was Smith, he of the dinosaur bone hut. He was clearly distressed, his voice carrying even over the hullaballoo the rest of the men were causing.

“It’s the main dig, sir. Something terrible has happened over there. I must go and see!”

Not the main dig! His father’s specimen was there. The very thing he was depending upon to rescue his failing reputation. What could have happened?

Albert ran through the camp in his bare feet, nightshirt flapping. The sandy rock beneath his feet still retained heat from the blazing sun of the day, oddly warm in contrast to the biting night air. The stars were unbelievably clear above him, sharp and cool and www.total-e-bound.com

seeming closer than they ever had at home in Dorset. He came to the lip of a pit, a great quarry blasted into the landscape, and stopped and stared in wonder.

The huge sheets of tarpaulin that had been fixed over the site with iron pegs to protect it from the elements—a larger and more elaborate version of the waxed canvas squares he and Henry had arranged over their own little find earlier in the day—were on fire. The tar they were coated with had caught aflame, and they burned with a ferocious, oily orange light, giving off clouds of noxious-smelling smoke. Chunks of stone lay scattered and smashed across the site, and the whole of one wall of the quarry had collapsed in upon itself.

It was a scene of absolute cataclysm. As he watched, astonished, he felt a presence behind him—a familiar presence—and knew without turning that it was Henry.

“Good God, the dynamite!” Henry said. “There has been an explosion!”

“How could this happen?” Albert demanded. “Mr Smith told me earlier that they are very careful to keep any sources of ignition away from the explosives. They use covered lanterns if they must work after dark, and the men are forbidden to smoke anywhere near the dynamite.”

Henry’s voice was unreadable. “I don’t know,” he said.

Albert saw two figures making their way up the slope towards them. His father and Gideon Dawlish. His father’s hair was even more disarrayed than usual, and he had smudges of soot on his hands, cheek and nose. Gideon held his elbow.

Albert hurried to his father and rubbed his thumb tenderly across his cheek, trying to remove the smuts. “How could this have happened? What a dreadful accident! Is anyone hurt?”

His father was trembling slightly, and his eyes, behind his glasses, were full of tears. He opened his mouth to respond, but, before he could speak, Gideon’s lazy, supercilious drawl broke in.

“This was no accident,” he said. “Dynamite had been stacked around the site where the specimen was being unearthed. It was completely destroyed in the blast.” Still fully dressed, he shot his cuffs and adjusted his tie, looking unaccountably smug.

Albert gaped at him. “Sabotage?” he said.

“Sabotage,” said Gideon. His smile was weird—contemptuous and knowing. “And I think we all know the man who is to blame.”

The reverend shook off Gideon’s hand. “No,” he said. “No…”

But Gideon scarcely seemed to notice the old man’s distress.

“Henry Elkington,” he said, and there was a look of hellish glee in his eyes, his pupils reflecting the fires of the burning dig site.

“Oh, come now,” he went on, as stunned silence greeted his accusation. “We all know Elkington’s ambitious. Why else did he go out of his way to discredit the Reverend Mr Boundry? And when you’re building your reputation on the ruin of another man, it would never do for him to regain the respect of his peers.
Such
an exciting new discovery, we were told. Such a perfect opportunity for Elkington to twist the knife a little more.”

“What evidence do you have?” Albert demanded. Did the man really believe everyone was as wicked and unscrupulous as he was?

“I have the evidence of my own eyes,” Gideon countered, with a vicious smugness that made something twist sickly in Albert’s belly. “I saw you, Elkington, creeping around the camp tonight—unless you have some innocent explanation, of course.”

The reverend stood in stunned silence. Albert stared, aghast. Henry’s face was set, closed. He narrowed his eyes at Gideon, then shook his head as though shaking off an irritation. He did not defend himself. He did not speak at all, but turned and strode away.

* * * *

Back in his tent, Albert was in an agony of indecision and bewilderment. He was cold and exhausted, and his hair smelt of the smoke from the fires.

Someone had deliberately blown up the dig site. The specimen was gone, destroyed, and his father’s hopes for a triumphant revival of his career were destroyed with it.

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Surely Henry could not have been responsible. Surely, after what they had shared…? His excitement when he had seen the first indications of a fossil underneath the surface of the rock. The delicacy and care with which he had uncovered the fragile bones…the delicacy with which he had slid his tongue against Albert’s, slick and hot. The delicacy with which he had pushed his cock inside him…the strength with which he had crushed Albert to him…