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
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
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