Nikolas nodded. “It is called spirit of place. I have felt it in places also. I saw that you were feeling it as soon as you saw the house.”
“Have you just voluntarily told me something about yourself?”
Nikolas smiled. “I must be slipping. Perhaps it is this place. Perhaps it is just you lying where you are.”
Ben couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand what Nikolas meant. He was lying in Nikolas’s lap, after all. He turned his cheek to the bulge then unzipped the soft jeans, freeing Nikolas’s erection. It was startlingly beautiful and natural in the bright sunlight. Nikolas lay back with a groan as if the feel of the sun and wind on his erection was painful but he swore in a hoarse whisper of delight as Ben took the cock deep to the back of his throat. He knew Nikolas loved this—it was one confession he had managed to drag out of him—so Ben had been practicing on him recently…a lot. He was getting pretty good. Too good almost. With a harsh cry, Nikolas came, scrabbling in Ben’s hair for a hold and jerking violently as he released. When he could breathe again, he lay flat on the rocks. Ben allowed the softening cock to slide from his lips, moved up to Nikolas’s mouth and fed him back his own spill, laughing at the outraged reaction and the consequent mess on their faces. But Nikolas didn’t seem to be in the mood to let anything Ben did annoy him now—perhaps this was his apology for his earlier temper. He wrestled Ben over onto his back and proceeded to return both favours he had just been given.
By the time they returned to the house, they were both more than a little dishevelled. Ben stripped off the remainder of his suit and changed into jeans as well. He sat on the tailgate of the vehicle, bare feet, knees drawn up to his bare chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, just staring at the house. He heard a soft expletive from Nikolas and turned a lazy, green-eyed gaze to him questioningly. Nikolas shook his head, looked down at the ground then raised his eyes and said unexpectedly, “You have no idea just how beautiful you are, do you?” A quick smile of embarrassment and pleasure flashed across Ben’s face before he could hide it. Nikolas came and sat on the tailgate with him, and they stared at the house companionably.
After a moment, and with a quick glance to gauge possible reactions to his question, Ben asked hesitantly, “Have you…? I mean, did you, when you were…? How many men have you slept with?”
Nikolas turned his head and regarded him for a long time before answering. “In the sense that you mean, you were the first.”
Ben held his gaze. “In the sense that I mean? What the fuck doesthatmean?”
“It means many things, but hopefully it means exactly what you want to hear. I have never truly kissed another man, and you are the only man I have wanted to give my body to. But I suspect it will take a great deal longer for you to tell me of past lovers, and now that you have somewhat inappropriately brought up the subject, I am actually curious. How many men have you slept with, Ben?”
Ben pursed his lips and shook his head, as if anxious at admitting the true number, but then stopped teasing and smirked. “I guess that night on the billiard table was a first for both of us then.”
Nikolas’s eyes widened. “Seriously, Benjamin, you had been in the army since you were sixteen, and you expect me to believe that—”
“Despite what you might read, mate, soldiers aren’t fucking each other in every foxhole. I admit, I got a hand job once or twice in the showers—mainly from paras, course; we all know about that…on the other hand therewasthe occasional marine, but we were always told it’s compulsory for them.”
“Stop trying to be funny and tell me truthfully—that first time at the house was literally your first time?”
Ben sobered. “Yeah, it was.”
“Incredible.”
“Surprised I knew what to do really.”
“I do not recall you having any difficulty working it out.”
“No, but then I’d had some weeks thinking about it.”
Nikolas turned his head slowly, incredulity on his face. “You were thinking about…before that weekend? With…me?”
Ben shrugged. “Come on. Have you seen yourself? That fucking interview in London? Asking all those questions in that bloody voice of yours? You say you fell—I almost took off. I was so hard I had to take my jacket off and lay it on my lap.”
Nikolas laughed. “Good God. I remember that. For the rest of the interview, I was hoping you would take your shirt off as well.”
They held each other’s gaze, and Ben said calmly, “It was fate, Nik, you know that. You can rationalise things as much as you like, but everything has led us to this place and to each other.”
Nikolas turned his gaze to the house and the moors and then the rooks circling the enormous fir trees by the stream. “I do not believe in fate. We make our own destinies through sacrifice and pain.” He patted Ben’s thigh to soften his words and smiled. “But I do not deny that when I am with you, I am willing to be persuaded to your view of the world. Come. I have one day left to commit adultery with you. We should not waste the opportunity.”
Ben chuckled. “We could stay here. Sort of camp out?”
There was a snort of derision. “I am not that fond of you.”
They drove away from the house, and when they finally came back out onto a proper road, it was like emerging from a dream. Ben actually glanced back anxiously. “What if we can’t find it again? What if it doesn’t—?”
“If you are actually going to finish that sentence and sayreally exist, then can you get out of the car and walk home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
They drove south to the coast to a hotel Nikolas had heard of but never visited. It was on an island only accessible at low tide, and even then not by vehicle but by a huge sea tractor sent to the mainland to fetch and return guests. Built during the 1920s, the hotel was an iconic art deco masterpiece. It had recently undergone a full restoration and offered only the very best to the very rich. It was immensely elegant, the suites named for the tors on Dartmoor, which Ben reckoned was a nice touch. He had already named his tor behind the house Nik’s Knob, but hadn’t told him this yet.
Nikolas didn’t even bother to book two rooms. He seemed more relaxed and at ease with himself than Ben had ever seen. He was even still dressed in the old jeans and Ben’s T-shirt he’d changed into at the house. Ben could never have imagined Sir Nikolas Mikkelsen being seen in public without his immaculate suits. Of course, his request for one room could have been down to the £700 per night price tag, but Ben gave him the benefit of the doubt and credited his boldness to the fact that this was the new and improved Nikolas emerging underhistutelage.
