“Newt,” River whispered.
He forced his eyes open.
“Watch.”
River put his sheathed cock against Newt’s hole and Newt gulped.
“Mine,” River whispered.
Newt pulled him down as River slid into him. It burned enough to make Newt cry out. But a couple of deep breaths and pain ceded to pleasure. River pulled back, dragging his cock over Newt’s prostate before pushing in again.
“Fuuuuck.” Newt gasped and gulped.
The next time, River withdrew completely before thrusting back inside and apart from feeling really good, there was something hot about watching him do that, the way he kept taking him. More and more precome leaked from Newt’s cock.
River dropped his mouth to Newt’s and kissed him as messily as he fucked him, over and over, faster and faster. Newt’s heart fluttered in his chest. He could feel himself almost coming and River’s hands were everywhere, on his cock, his hair, his neck, his belly. And every touch wound him tighter. Newt was dimly aware that one hand was now tight around the base of his dick, pressing down on his balls, stopping him from exploding. Or at least slowing him down.
Then River jacked Newt’s dick in the same hard, fast rhythm as he pounded into him, holding him in some sort of ecstatic limbo, that blissful moment before the fall being extended in a way Newt always tried for and never fully managed to achieve. He came with a loud cry, erupting over his stomach and chest and River followed after.
And in the morning, they did it again and it was even better. Newt wanted to fuck River but he could wait until River was ready.
Something had changed between them. Newt could see it in River’s eyes, feel it in his touch, hear it in his voice. Newthad never been this close to anyone, never been wanted so much by anyone, nor had he ever wanted someone as much as he did River. It both reassured and frightened him, comforted yet alarmed him. He kept telling himself not to expect too much. He’d had seven years locked up telling himself that, but this was different. Newt was different. He was happy. He wouldn’t let that feeling go by thinking beyond this moment.
That afternoon, River was in the gym with Ed when the buzzer on the gate began to sound. Newt checked the camera and saw a guy in a suit.
“Yes?” Newt said over the intercom.
“Dila Fox is here to see River.”
Newt felt as if he’d been thumped in the stomach. So that was it. He could have been a dick and asked to see her face to confirm it actually was her, but it wouldn’t change what was about to happen. His delicate, slowly mending heart had already begun to crack. He pressed the gate release.
“Who?” River had come up behind him, Ed next to him.
“Dila’s arrived.”
At least River’s face fell. That was something.
Newt opened the door as two large silver cars pulled onto the drive. He recognised Max’s car coming up behind them. Why was he here again? Why hadn’t he let the other cars in with his remote?Maybe to give me the chance to breathe. Or get out of River’s bed.
“I’ll be off,” Ed said. “See you, River. Bye, Newt.”
“Thanks, Ed.” Newt walked down onto the drive and River came out behind him. Dila stepped from the first car clutching a phone to her ear. Her white-blonde hair was up in a loose bun and she wore tight black leggings and a short, fluffy neon pink jacket. She squealed and leapt to fling herarms around River while at the same time she held up her phone to take a picture of the two of them.
Icy water trickled down Newt’s spine and surged along his arms and legs. River had put his arms around Dila and he was smiling. It hurt to watch, but he needed to keep watching to remind himselfthiswas reality. What he and River had wasn’t. Even if this …thing…with Dila wasn’t real, it was still the narrative. Newt was just a temporary blip in River’s life.
He made sure he hid what he was feeling, but it was too much to expect himself to smile. Max had a word with Ed before the physio drove off, then after he’d waved to Newt, he headed towards the house after Dila and River. Newt made an unnecessary trip to make sure the gate was firmly shut.Tape up your heart.
Before he went back inside, he checked the postbox. No mail. Everyone apart from the guy in the suit had gone into the house. He was taking cases and bags out of the cars. How long was she staying?
“Do you need a hand?” Newt asked.
“That would be great, thanks.”
“I’m Newt Jones.” He held out his hand to the American.
“Andy Mottinger.” The guy shook it.
Newt took two suitcases into the house. There was no sign of Dila, River or Max. He went back to help with the rest.
