“Want…want…help…”
River couldn’t breathe. Newt kept up the pressure, so did River, then with one sharp spike of pain, Newt’s finger slipped inside him.
“Fu…ck,” River gasped.
It was so good. He couldn’t believe how good it was. The way his body clenched around Newt’s finger, then two fingers. His cock had filled again. How the hell that had happened he had no idea, but his balls drew tight against his body and as waves of lightning crashed through him, he bit his lip. He was pushing himself down, wanting more. Newt curled his fingers, caressed his prostate and it tipped River over the edge into bliss.
This second release might have only produced a minute amount of come, but it seemed more intense than the first. It was as if his entire body had been caught up in the explosive power of the orgasm. He stole a moment to breathe, then as hemoved, Newt’s fingers slipped free and River slid back so he could take Newt in his mouth. One suck and it was all over. Newt’s chest heaved as he half-groaned, half-laughed, emptying himself between River’s lips. River swallowed until Newt had nothing left to give, then moved up so they lay next to each other on the floor.
“We could have done that in bed,” Newt panted.
“An…other minute…and we will.”
~~~
The view from the top of the hill by the Observatory in Greenwich Park was amazing. He and River stood looking down at the elegant old buildings between them and the Thames. On the other side of the river were the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf. On the right was the O2 Arena, on the left more tall buildings. River was trying to tell him their names and they were both laughing. Was one really called the Cheese Grater?
Newt was pleased that River was able to laugh so much now, even at himself when he got words wrong. Newt was growing more and more attached to him. It was both dangerous and wonderful to feel he had a friend. Boys at primary school never seemed to stay Newt’s friends for long. They were into football and he wasn’t. They did mean things and he never did. He remembered how his parents had roared with laughter when he’d been given a certificate to say he’d been chosen as a school ambassador because of his excellent behaviour and the example he set to others. “I’ve never been more ashamed,” his father had said to all his mates and got the laughs he’d wanted.
When Newt went to senior school, he kept his head down and worked hard because even at eleven, he kneweducation was the way out of the life he had. His trust in people had been destroyed long before he was seventeen, but what Phelan had done, the brother he’d trusted, was the death knell to him putting faith in anyone.
Until now.
Even after he’d told himself never to trust again, Newt trusted River.
John Harrison’s timepieces were incredible. River didn’t want to use the audio guide so Newt quietly read out the information to him, how Harrison’s clocks were revolutionary in their ability to accurately tell time at sea, so that sailors could work out their longitude, which meant they were far less likely to get lost. It had taken John Harrison most of his life to arrive at the design for H4, one of the most important timepieces ever made. Newt wished he could do something so momentous.Unlikely.
River had practised reading when no one else had been near them. Newt could have stayed in the museum for hours but he knew River was struggling with an overload of information and maybe a worry that he’d be recognised in spite of his mask.
Back in the town, they wandered around Greenwich market, bought falafel wraps, then sat by the river to eat them so no one could see River’s face. They looked at but didn’t go into the Cutty Sark, a restored clipper, but they walked under the Thames and back using the foot tunnel, before returning to Greenwich station. River was tired and once they were on the train from London Bridge, he fell asleep against the window.
While he was sleeping, Newt looked up Dila. Two major newspapers had pictures of her and River in front of the house, which wasn’t identifiable. It made him even more suspiciousthat Max had told the press to take the photos. That and the text below the pictures saying River was fully recovered after his accident. There were lots of images of her and River on Instagram. Lots of comments too. He checked out a few. Most were just saying how cute they looked. They did look cute. There were more pictures on X, more comments. A few asked how River was. Dila, or probably Jesse, didn’t reply to anything. River looked good. Happy, healthy…But he’s mine.
For a while anyway. No matter how much Newt wished it could be more, he’d known the end date when he’d started. He doubted he and River would stay friends. The intention might be there but it would be too difficult.
As Newt drove towards the gates to the house, he spotted a car parked to the side and his heart thumped. Why would anyone park there? As they went through the gate, a guy got out of the vehicle.
“Newt!” River sounded panicked.
Newt had worried for a moment too but he recognised the visitor. “It’s okay. It’s my brother Sean.”
How the hell had he uncovered this address?
“Go into the house and I’ll talk to him.”
“In…vite him…in.”
“No.”
Newt pulled into the garage, switched off the engine, deactivated the house alarm, then headed back towards the gates. He wished he’d had the courage to close them, but even now, he knew better than to piss off Sean.
His brother didn’t come onto the property.
What did he want?Why can’t my fucking family leave me alone?Newt waited to see what Sean was going to say.
“Phelan’s dying.”
“What?” Newt swallowed hard.
