He shrugged. It happened pretty often, but less so these days. ‘You can tell them he’s taken.’
She gave him an askance glance. ‘Eww, too old as well, maybe?’
He kept his grin hidden but stored this up to mention to Ben later.
‘…and have they fixed the where and when and shall Trelawny die…?’
She handed him one of the bars of chocolate. ‘I’m joining the rowing club next term.’
‘…here’s twenty thousand Cornish men will know the reason why…’
Her hand paused. His, taking the offering, did as well, and the KitKat hung suspended above the little singer’s head. At exactly the same time, they chorused, ‘What did you just say?’ Emilia then adding, astonished, ‘That’s the Cornish National Anthem! We’ve been singing it all term at our parties. Where did you learn that, Mol Mol? You’re so clever!’
Molly shrugged. ‘Jenna taught it to me. She always sangs it.’
Their eyes locked once more above Molly’s head, and Aleksey corrected almost absentmindedly, his mind much more focused on the first part of this odd pronouncement, ‘Sings,moye solnyshko. Sangs isn’t a word.’
Molly shook her head. ‘You’re just being silly. She said it was her favourite in church. I asked her if she still sings it, and she said there’s no difference between sing and sang for her anymore, so I said sangs, and she said I was really funny.’ She stuffed her mince pie in her mouth, apparently now bored of the conversation.
Emilia let go of the chocolate and the three of them ate in silence, but every time he cast glances at Molly, he found Emilia doing the same, and he was fairly sure his expression of unease mirrored hers.
* * *
Chapter Four
Their ride home was also done mostly in silence. Aleksey occasionally saw Emilia flicking him glances, as if she wished to say something, but given that the two languages they had in common they also shared with the one she probably wanted to comment on, she said nothing.
When they’d stabled the horses, Aleksey walked with them back to the cottage, and Babushka greeted them with an excited, ‘Christmas! We go!’ and clapped her hands.
Fortunately, Miles arrived just at that moment dressed for an outing and translated, ‘Ben said we could all go and see the Christmas decorations in Plymouth.’
Emilia and Molly dashed into the house to collect their essentials, and Aleksey, feeling entirely ignored, deflated and annoyed, mentally wished them all well and took himself and the dogs back into the trees. If Ben was going to spend the entire day giving his attention to other people and neglect him, and brush him off in bed because of his rules when Molly was there, he’d find something to do for himself. He was good at that. Had been since he’d been small. Promises were all very well, but they needed to be reciprocated. Sure, Ben hadn’t actually made him any, because Ben was never the one at fault, but as the guarantor ofhisgood behaviour, his all-round counsellor, mentor and prison guard, Ben should fucking take his responsibilities more seriously.
He strode into the house.
Ben had apparently only just returned from his run and was bending over in the kitchen, soaked, sweating.
Aleksey was about to comment that he’d better hurry and change or Babushka would go without him, when Ben pushed him to one side and locked the door. Turning back, Ben seized him around the neck and ate wide-mouthed at him, stealing his breath with a savage kiss. Between the kisses, Ben gasped, ‘They’re’—Aleksey stumbled back against the table and a chair went flying—‘taking the Bent’—Radulf and PB skittered off to the sitting room with atake cover!urgency—‘Psycho’s driving—we’re on our’—Ben, clearly unsatisfied with the table, seized his arm and physically dragged him towards the swim lane—‘own. Rest of the day.’
He didn’t need any further persuasion, and by the time they entered the bedroom they were kissing again, twisting, entwining, so out of control that they fell heavily on the bed, teeth knocking together, cocks trapped and painful, balls squashed. Ben ripped his own sweat-soaked T-shirt off, snatched the front ofhisshirt and yanked it apart so violently that the buttons flew across the room.
Ben was so slippery Aleksey couldn’t get a hold of him. But it made the entry exquisite. He didn’t even bother to remove the shorts—just heaved them down low enough so he could see what he wanted and worked himself in. Ben cursed, his head hanging down, drips falling from his chin. Aleksey reached around and swore as well. When he enfolded Ben’s rigid erection in his hand, he thought for a moment he could feel the touch of his fingers as if he held his own cock.
They slowed for a moment, both panting deeply. He pushed Ben down so he was on his hands and knees and then heaved him up by his hips, positioning him to perfection. Then he got back to business. As he came, head dropped back, neck stretched corded and tight, he let out a long, harrowed moan of some emotion so fundamental to what he was that he could not have said whether it was agony or ecstasy or an elemental mixture of both.
He didn’t have any time to contemplate it either, for Ben spilt over his hand, pulse after pulse, and then he twisted around and was on him once more, kissing him, working himself, biting him occasionally and licking the marks he left. Aleksey lay on his back, surrendered to the man on top of him, his heart beating so wildly from his orgasm that he felt a pulse fluttering in his neck. When Ben was ready, he was flipped, spread, massaged, stretched, and then penetrated, and Ben gave him no quarter; he was savage in his need, as if he’d spent his entire run attempting to escape this unassailable realisation about himself and what was important in his life, only to find it awaiting him when he returned. Just before Ben came for the second time, he spread his fingers wide on Aleksey’s back, hung for a moment, tense and expectant, and then released. Only on the very last spurt, which Aleksey felt warm and trickling out down his thighs, did Ben let go of the tension in his body and sink entirely boneless and replete ontohisvery welcoming back.
It was quiet and peaceful after that for a long time. He could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere, although he didn’t think they had one of those, and so wondered if it was just their hearts in sync again as they should be.
Finally, Ben stretched up a hand and combed his fingers the wrong way uphishair, making him smile. He spread out his arms, entirely crushed under the weight upon his back, loving the crick of his spine as Ben shifted position once more.
‘You know all those unilateral thingies you make all the time?’
Aleksey jerked back to wakefulness on the sound of Ben’s drowsy murmur in his ear. ‘No. I have told you many times, Benjamin, that your version of our history is very distorted.’
‘Uh-huh. Well, do you recall the fact you usually tell me about them after you’ve pounded me numb for an hour or two, thinking you’ll slip them past me when I’m in no state to object?’
He smirked. ‘That sounds more familiar, yes.’
