He gave Radulf the requisite snarky look that informed the old mutt he knew very well who’d done all the vomiting, and got one back that told him Radulf knew very well who’d probably done most of the killing. Aleksey thought back to Ben’s fist disappearing into the mushy fragments of brain, and wondered what the dog would think about that when he got a chance to tell him. He’d only actually been responsible for one death this time. He was clearly slipping.
They were all just leaving the harbour to return to the hotel when they spotted a figure in shorts and sandals perched on the wall under a street light, eating an ice cream. He was consulting his phone and had a number of shopping bags slung on his other arm. He peered up myopically at sensing a large crowd staring at him.
Tim’s eyes widened, surprised, but extremely pleased. ‘Oh, hello. This is good timing. I was just wondering when you would come and get me. Have you had a nice time? I’ve had a superb couple of…at…gig…why are you…oh God…have you been…oh my God, your face…! Bloody hell! It’s happened again, hasn’t it! Why are you all laughing? This is not funny!’
It appeared the reception staff at the hotel had given up trying to work out the odd coming and goings or deplorable state of the Rider-Mikkelsen family, for they added Ben and Aleksey’s name to the register without commenting on their bloodstained clothing, Aleksey’s face, or their ragged shorts.
It was only as they crawled together onto the wide double bed in the luxurious suite they’d asked for did they realise they didn’t have any other clothes with them. As on the boat, they curled together, skin to skin wherever possible and fell into the dreamless sleep of the innocent. Or at least, those who had left no evidence behind of their guilt.
In the morning, they discovered some bags had been left outside their door. Squeezy had been liberal with Aleksey’s credit card and gone shopping. Along with their returned phones, were clothes, toiletries, and even some first aid supplies. They brushed their teeth with delight, grinning at each other as they stood naked in the bathroom, surveying the damage the two days on the island had inflicted on them.
Ben’s bullet wound had a spreading bruise surrounding it. He had dozens of tiny scratches, some of the blisters from the fire had torn open, but other than that he looked remarkably good. Aleksey realised with a private smirk that he’d never not thought Ben was absolutely superb.
He was the one they gave more consideration to. He stood regarding himself in the mirror, Ben standing next to him, lips pursed. ‘It’s not swollen any more.’
Aleksey gravely inclined his head in agreement.
‘It’s not infected.’
Again, what was there to do but nod?
‘I think it will leave a pretty noticeable scar though.’
Aleksey didn’t.
‘I guess if you grow a beard…’
No need.
‘It must have been the salt water. Kept it clean.’
Water, possibly. He flung his arm around Ben’s shoulder. ‘So, first day of our holiday—what do you want to do?’
He was very pleased when Ben showed rather than told him.
He was pushed backwards out of the bathroom and onto the bed.
Ben crawled over him and sat across his waist. He put his palms down on Aleksey’s smooth chest, spread his fingers and began to explore—ribs, collarbones, shoulders, arms—a slow stroking of his body, as if just reassuring himself that it was all still there, all perfect. Then he dipped down and kissed him, and it wasn’t a quick brush of lips, but a deep, mouth open, taking and possessing. And yet Aleksey had never been kissed so gently before either. He felt absurdly like crying at the love shown by such restraint and care.
He responded, grabbing Ben’s hair, using it to pull him closer as they shared their mouths in celebration and ownership. They’d fought side by side, killed and been prepared to be killed, and this was their way of putting their world back to rights. As they kissed, they rolled, the friction on their hot skin engorging them, making them leak with need. But Aleksey entered Ben with great tenderness, cupping and stroking Ben’s balls, testing each move before he made it. He wasn’t the only one who’d been injured, and he could show self-control as well. But Ben, it appeared, was indestructible. Madeline’s assault on one ofhisfavourite Ben-parts seemed to have had no lasting effect. Ben groaned just a little as he began to push deeply into him, but as this was entirely normal and one of his favourite sounds, Aleksey just closed his eyes to enjoy it and penetrated harder to hear it again.
He took his time, drawing out the exquisite enjoyment for both of them. Ben lay supine and mellow, arms stretched out like a man crucified on pleasure. His fingers scrunched the sheets in time to Aleksey’s slow, considered possession of his body. Then he sensed the change, the build up and arched his hips, meeting Aleksey for each stroke, until Aleksey’s orgasm bucked out of him in a series of emptying spasms. Ben shivered as the last pulse squirted inside him and Aleksey began to still, hanging his head, panting. Then Ben’s cock released, an arcing spurt onto his belly, and his milky fluid pooling opaque into the defined ridges. Aleksey lowered himself down to the spill, feeling it warm and damp between them, trapping it there so it would dry and they would be stuck together. Perhaps forever. He had no desire to be anywhere else but exactly where he was.
* * *
Lying replete and comfortable in the hotel bed, tangled with Ben, just lazing around recovering after their lovemaking, Aleksey wondered whether he ought to check if the real world still existed beyond this one they created for themselves.
Reluctantly, he stretched out an arm for his phone, rousing Ben, who only grunted, turned, and flung an arm and a leg over him and went back to sleep.
Turning the device on, he immediately saw the unread attachment which the big man had sent him. Had it only been Saturday? He could hardly work it out, the days blending into nights and bleeding back once more into day.
It was information about La Luz, which he’d asked Peyton to research.
Garic was unable to confirm reasons for the forced sale one way or another. There were lots of rumours about the younger prince, ranging from him being a paedophile to being illegitimate. It was true that he looked nothing like his older brother, but the similarities to his mother were undeniable. There were some murky details of his time in the Royal Air Force, where there was gossip that he’d faked his service record during a stint in Afghanistan. Phillipa had confided that he was a bully, and this assertion seemed borne out by the excessive turnover of staff at his grace and favour cottage on the royal estates in Windsor. He had never married, so rumours of illegitimate children or homosexuality dogged him, but none of this explained the need for the quick and secret sale of the island.
Aleksey skimmed down to what interested him more.
And there it was.
