His grin is all swarthy arrogance. “Figured as much.”
Blair and I laugh and push him away before he steps closer again and I freeze this moment in time, a photograph for my memory.
Forever printed inside.
* * *
It’s past two in the morning when a knock on my door sounds. I open it to find Blair and Isaac standing there, both wearing Christmas pyjamas that were a joke present from Ivy. The corridor is cool, the fires having been allowed to die down now most of the revellers have gone to bed, just a few of the older set still downstairs, drinking Scotch and telling stories.
“We thought it would be warmer if we slept together.” Blair mock whispers. There’s no one nearby to hear anyway.
I fold my arms, my chest bare and look at Isaac. “Probably for the best.” Then I see Blair’s face and there’s sadness there. “What’s happened?”
She steps into my room and Isaac closes the door behind them.
“I went to see my father when we left.”
I nod, this was her routine, before she went to bed each night she’d go up to say goodnight.
“How is he?” The worst was my first thought.
“The same. Smiling when he saw me. He’s so fragile and frail and, fuck, Ben.” She steps into my arms and then turns to Isaac. “This is his last New Year. I know what people have said, that maybe he’ll hang on until there’s more of a cure, but we know that’s not going to happen.”
I walk her through the rooms until we reach my bed, holding her close, Isaac behind us. We sit down, me on one side of her, Isaac on the other.
“It’s probably not. I wish I could say otherwise.” Isaac’s voice is quiet, softer than I’ve heard before. “There’s a lot I can say to try and soften what will happen, but I’m not sure you need to hear them.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t. I just wish things were different.”
“If things were different, we wouldn’t all be here like this.” Isaac runs his hand through her hair.
“I know. And I can’t change things. What will be, will be.”
They’re my mother’s words as well as Blair’s, but to hear them pulls at my chest with a rope and a weight.
I lean into her and take her lips with mine, slow and deep, my tongue exploring her mouth. Isaac has moved in behind her, shifting her hair and kissing her neck, his hand on my chest, touching.
Hands move; fingers pull away clothing. Skin alights and veins heat. Blair pulls off her top, leaving her tits exposed and we become an unchoreographed ballet as we pull away her bottoms and the rest of what we’re wearing. We’re a mess of flesh and need and the urge to forget and be remembered, needed.
She takes Isaac’s hard cock in her mouth, looking at me as she does. I play with her tits from behind; she’s on all fours, her ass and pussy on show for me, Isaac’s hands in her hair, almost lazily. Then he becomes more demanding, breathing words and wants.
I cup her sex, feeling her arousal on my hand. My fingers play with her clit, applying the amount of pressure she needs to get off and pushing a finger in with my other hand.
She pushes back onto me, unable to tell me what to do because her mouth’s full. Isaac reaches round to me and we’re lost again, my cock replacing my fingers fucking Blair. Isaac’s saying something to me, then he’s behind me, reaching round to play with Blair’s breasts.
I hear a click of a tube seconds later and feel the cold against my ass. He isn’t for watching tonight.
“Thought about this so much. Fucking you while you fuck her.”
Fingers press inside me and then Blair’s head turns round. “On my back. Want to watch.”
I pull out and flip her over, pushing back into her tight cunt before her head is on the pillow. She brings her knees up higher, giving me more room, letting me in deeper. I slow as Isaac pushes a digit against a spot inside me that makes my balls tighten, but I’m not ready yet.
“Slow down, man,” my words are choked.
He laughs and I feel the pressure of his cock against me, bracing myself for the intrusion, stilling inside Blair while Isaac enters me.
We find a rhythm and our words, asking how it feels, offering praise and filthy endearments that are airless caresses.
