Waking the Dead

by Jane Davitt

  John had been wondering if having his ‑‑ much ‑‑ younger brother around would make a difference to Nick and had been more or less resigned to a couple of weeks when his day would end with no more than a few quiet kisses. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t make up for it once Josh had left, and it wasn’t as if they didn’t go a few days without making love quite often anyway. Summer was busy, and there were nights when John stumbled to bed late and exhausted, in much the same state as Josh.

  He wasn’t tired now, though, and neither was Nick, judging by the way the kisses were increasing in duration, the heat between them building. Slow, sweet kisses, their lips parting briefly only when they caught their breath, until John broke away, almost reluctantly, but needing more. He dragged his mouth down the side of Nick’s neck, pausing to kiss or nip at it gently, wanting to feel Nick shudder with arousal against him.

  “John.” It was barely whispered, as if Nick were determined to be quiet, but the eager warmth of his erection against John’s thigh was all the answer required to the question John no longer needed to ask. Nick slid his hand down along John’s spine, then cupped his arse. “You’re not too tired?” he asked softly. “I know it was a long day, and you had to do all that driving…”

  Nick had never completely recovered from his fears of being behind the wheel of a car ‑‑ he drove willingly enough most of the time, but if he was feeling worried or under stress, it was the first thing to go. Luckily, they lived on such a small island it hardly mattered.

  John made a small scoffing noise and punctuated it with another kiss, this time on Nick’s shoulder, the exposed skin cool at first, then warming under the press of his mouth. “Do I feel tired to you?” he asked. He captured Nick’s hand, drew it between their bodies, and guided it to his own erection, then sighed when Nick’s fingers curled around it and squeezed gently. “Never too tired for this.”

  It wasn’t strictly true, but it was true enough in spirit; there was never a time when he didn’t want this with Nick, even if sometimes sleep seduced him first.

  Nick touched him slowly, fingertips tracing his length and around the sensitive head. “I want to suck you,” he murmured, then slid down, breath warm against John’s thigh before his lips closed around him.

  “Christ,” John said quietly; the hot, wet suction felt so good. Sometimes Nick would forge ahead without patience, driving John to the edge and over in a minute’s time or even less, leaving him wrung out and gasping, but it didn’t seem this was to be one of those nights. Instead, Nick was slow about it, lips moving down to the base and back to the crown. John’s toes curled and he let his head tip back, eyes closed, focused on nothing but the incredible sensation.

  His hand found its way to Nick’s hair, and he stroked it. The strands slipped across his fingers like heavy silk, echoing the way Nick’s tongue was sliding across his hard, heated skin in languid, thoughtful laps as if Nick had forgotten what John’s cock tasted like and wanted to remind himself.

  John kept his hips still with an effort, knowing that this time Nick didn’t want him to do anything but accept what Nick wanted to give him. It had been a difficult lesson to learn; that he could take pleasure and not necessarily give it back, and have that be a gift in a way. Nothing in John’s past, before he met Nick, had involved anything like this. He’d experienced encounters designed to be mutually satisfying, but not from any underlying desire to make his partner happy; he’d done to them what he wanted them to do for him, and vice versa.

  Nick, though, just loved bringing John to the point where his mouth couldn’t form words, just helpless sounds of pleasure and need, where his body was a strung-out, quivering ache of desire. And if afterward, John turned to him, still panting, with pleasure sparking through him in tiny aftershocks, Nick would arch up for a single touch and come, as if what he’d done to John had been nearly all he’d needed.

  “Love you,” John whispered into the darkness behind his eyes, wanting to say it while he still could. He moved his hand and traced the corner of Nick’s mouth, where the skin was taut, stretched wide by his cock. “God, Nick ‑‑”

  Nick made a small sound of pleasure and increased the suction; John inhaled sharply, feeling his balls draw up tight. He settled his hand at Nick’s shoulder and squeezed, urging Nick to finish it because he was so close, so very close, and it wasn’t going to take much more.

  He felt Nick’s hand, which had been resting on his thigh, move away, and a moment later a familiar slick sound and rhythmic shifting of the mattress told him that Nick was stroking himself. It didn’t take long ‑‑ a low moan deep in Nick’s throat, which vibrated tantalizingly around John’s cock, and a splash of warmth against John’s calf, and then John was coming, too. The pleasure rolled through him slowly, drawn out by the heat of Nick’s mouth.

  He brushed the back of his knuckles against Nick’s cheek in a wordless thank you, and a short time after that, Nick, like his brother, was sleeping, and John, every misgiving and concern he’d woken up with lulled to silence, was curled up behind him, close enough that the warmth of Nick’s back was against his skin, as he closed his eyes.

  Chapter Three

  John slept deeply and woke early, always had, but this morning there was someone awake before him. Nick was a sleepy sprawl of arms and legs beside him, his dark hair tousled, but downstairs someone was moving about, opening cupboard doors and closing them too quickly for anything to have been taken out.

  Young Josh looking for his breakfast. They’d meant to show him where the basics were the night before, but the boy had been dead on his feet. John got out of bed and dressed quickly and quietly, a skill he’d learned as a child when his father would rouse him in the dark for school or to go out fishing. He’d sometimes been halfway through his breakfast before he’d been truly awake, but his body had dressed itself and shoveled porridge and tea inside his mouth nonetheless. After a brief stop in the bathroom, where a third toothbrush and a bag of assorted toiletries sat next to his and Nick’s toothbrushes and shared tube of toothpaste, he went downstairs.

  Josh was in the kitchen, an empty mug in one hand, staring out of the window.

  “Morning, lad,” John said with a yawn, when he saw that it was barely six. God, he was getting old. “Want me to put some coffee in that for you?”

  Josh yawned, too, covering his mouth with the back of one hand. He still looked tired. “That’d be great, thanks. I tried to sleep in, but my body clock’s so screwed up I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

  “It’ll be like that for a day or two,” John warned him, moving to get the coffeemaker set up. “It’s best not to fight it ‑‑ when you find your eyelids closing despite your best efforts, just go to bed, regardless of the hour.”

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of stubborn.” Setting his mug down on the counter, Josh looked out of the window again. “God, it’s so…I don’t know. I guess I forgot it really looks this amazing. Sometimes, especially when you’re just a kid, you remember things being more perfect than they really are, you know?”

  “Aye.”

  “But this is just like I remember it. It almost hurts to look at it, it’s so beautiful.” Josh glanced at him, looking a bit embarrassed. “Tourists must say stuff like that to you all the time.”

  “They do, but it doesn’t mean it’s not true.” John took a look himself out at the view, with the dew wet on the thin, sparse grass that rolled down to the shimmer of the restless sea. From here he could just see the roof of the house he used to live in, a mile or so away, rented out now to summer visitors and often standing empty in the winter. “And it’s good to be reminded of it.”

  “It’s so quiet,” Josh said wonderingly. He opened the door leading outside and took a deep breath. “I can’t hear anything but the sea. No cars, no voices… It’s so peaceful.”

  On cue the coffeemaker gave a loud gurgle and hiss, and Josh turned, a grin lighting his face.

  “Mostly, it is,” John agreed, smiling back. “Do
es that ‑‑ does it make it easier for you? It does for your brother, I think.”

  They were going to have to talk about what Josh could do at some point and now, with both of them not quite awake and the world sleeping around them was as good a time as any.

  “Less people? Definitely.” Josh handed his mug over to John. “I mean, don’t get me wrong ‑‑ I learned to shut stuff out, mostly, a long time ago. Otherwise there’d have been times I think it would have driven me crazy. People can be…well, loud.”

  “And it’s not as if you can ask them to keep it down,” John observed.

  “Not without them thinking I’m crazy.” At John’s glance, Josh amended, “I could prove to them that I’m not lying, but it wouldn’t go over well.”

  “You say that like a man who’s learned from experience.” John finished pouring the coffee and handed the mug back.

  Josh took the mug gratefully, wrapping both hands around it. “I told a kid once, just before junior high.” He went quiet then, and John waited to see if he’d continue. “First he thought I was kidding, then he said I was a liar. When I proved to him that I wasn’t, he got scared. I don’t know what he told his parents, but they didn’t let him hang out with me anymore after that.”

  “I’m sorry,” John said, and meant it. “To be honest, I can see their point of view, too, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish it’d turned out differently.”

  “I can’t do as much as you think I can, you know,” Josh said. “I’m thinking, too, remember, and I don’t have time to read you and talk at the same time.” He raised his mug. “And do other stuff, too. You’re thinking that I know every last detail and I can rummage around in your head and get to all your secrets, but it’s not like that. Mostly, it’s not.”

  John turned away, as if not meeting Josh’s eyes would be some kind of protection, even though he knew it wouldn’t, and got himself a mug of coffee. “It’s just the surface thoughts then, is it?”

  “It’s like…” Josh frowned. “It’s like you’re talking at me in two ways and if I want to, I can just listen to what your mouth’s saying, and your body language, I guess, but I can tap into what you’re thinking, too, and that’s running alongside what you’re saying, like the drumbeat’s there in a song but mostly you’re hearing the singer.”

  “I’m trying to picture it, but it’s not easy,” John admitted. “I’m thinking even when you don’t do it consciously, you’re still picking up more than most people. You’d make a hell of a card player.”

  “Too good,” Josh said, with enough of a wry twist to his mouth that John guessed Josh had maybe won a few too many hands to be popular. “I don’t play many games like that, to be honest. If it’s something like chess, when it’s quiet and I’m concentrating, it’s really hard not to hear. Something like football, well, I get flashes now and then, but it’s all happening too fast and there’re so many distractions…” He shrugged. “And like I said, I’m getting pretty good at controlling it. It’s not like when you first met me; back then, I was wide open, and God, some of the things I found out, I just really didn’t want to know.”

  “I can imagine,” John said. “Well, I’ve not got many secrets, but if you find yourself reading my thoughts, I’d appreciate it if you bear in mind I’m a wee bit uneasy about what you can do.” He met Josh’s gaze. “But I trust you, and I like you, and you’re welcome to see for yourself that I really mean that, because I do.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t have come if I thought we were going to drive each other crazy while I was here ‑‑ it wouldn’t have been worth it. I try not to spend time with people who don’t mesh up ‑‑ you know, whose words and thoughts are opposites, when they don’t say what they really mean. I can’t handle it.” The boy sounded serious about it. “Sometimes I wish I couldn’t hear what I do. I think it might make life a lot easier.”

  “It probably would,” Nick said from the doorway, and they both turned to look at him. He was wearing his sleep trousers, but not the T-shirt he’d had on the night before, and was leaning against the door frame sleepily. “Life would be easier if I couldn’t see what I can, too, but I wouldn’t be me. If that makes any sense this early in the morning.”

  Josh looked at Nick like he was all-knowing, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise ‑‑ he was the only person the boy knew who had an ability like his, and the only sibling, even by half. “Yeah,” Josh said. “Yeah, that makes sense. Sometimes, though…”

  “Sometimes the easy way out seems pretty appealing,” Nick finished for him. John got Nick a mug of coffee. He didn’t need to be able to read minds to know Nick wanted one.

  “Want some food to go along with that coffee?” he asked them both.

  Josh patted his stomach. “I feel like I’m running on empty here, so, yeah, that’d be great. Let me help, though.”

  John opened his mouth to tell Josh there was no need and then reconsidered. No point in making him feel like a visitor. “Nick, show Josh where everything is, and I’ll fry up some rashers of bacon.”

  “Bacon?”

  “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” John asked, pausing with his hand on the fridge door. “Because I can maybe just do eggs instead?”

  “No,” Josh assured him. “If it’s not still mooing ‑‑ or oinking ‑‑ I’ll eat it. It’s just Mom’s on this health kick right now; she thinks she needs to lose weight. These days, I’m lucky if I get a bowl of granola with skim milk.”

  John opened the fridge and got out bacon and sausages. Granola for a growing lad just didn’t bear thinking about.

  It didn’t take too long to get breakfast on the table. Josh set it and then made the scrambled eggs, working with the same concentration Nick gave to even the smallest of tasks. By the time they were eating, the conversation had settled into a relaxed exchange of information, with John listening mostly, sipping his coffee, as the two brothers caught up on each others’ lives. John didn’t usually read Josh’s e-mails, unless Nick called him over to see a photograph or watch a short video Josh had attached, but Nick told him the gist of them, so some of the names of Josh’s friends were familiar.

  He was just about to offer to make a fresh pot of coffee when he heard the sound of footsteps on the path outside. There was a knock at the door, then it opened an inch or two and Caitrin’s familiar voice called, “Please tell me I’m not interrupting anything?”

  Apparently she was still remembering Nick’s sudden, unclothed appearance the same way Nick was.

  “Everyone’s dressed,” Nick said with a hint of good humor in his voice even though his cheeks were slightly flushed. “Come on in.”

  Caitrin stormed into the kitchen, her color high and eyes flashing. “Uncle John, you have to do something about my mam. She’s being completely unreasonable about this stupid essay for that bloody scholarship, and I swear if she doesn’t get off my back I’m going to say something I regret, I really am.” She caught sight of Josh at the table and her eyes widened, her expression more than a bit horrified. “Oh, God. I’d forgotten your Josh was here.”

  “It’s okay.” Nick stood up and pulled out the empty chair. “Sit. Do you want some coffee? Tea? Have you had breakfast?”

  Caitrin swallowed and pushed her hair back, revealing the rows of gleaming silver rings in her ears that had been the cause of more than one row with Janet. “A cup of tea would be nice, thank you.”

  “This is my brother Joshua,” Nick said, moving to fill the electric kettle. “Josh, this is John’s niece Caitrin Gordon. I’m sure you remember her from your last visit.”

  Josh stood up and offered Caitrin his hand, then drew it back to wipe it on his jeans before holding it out again. “Sorry. Butter.”

  “Better than fish guts,” Caitrin said, shaking his hand a little awkwardly. John smothered a grin. “Wow, you have green eyes, just like Uncle Nick. Does it run in the family, then?”

  “I guess,” Josh said. He kept standing there. “So. Um.”

  “I forgot yo
u’d be here,” Caitrin explained. “I mean, I didn’t forget, but I didn’t remember it was going to be now. Which is totally my fault, since Uncle John and Nick have been talking about it for ages.”

  “Really?” Josh seemed pleased.

  “Not to be rude, but do you think I could borrow Uncle John for a few minutes? I promise I’ll bring him back.” Caitrin gave John a look that said she desperately needed to talk with him, in private, about how completely absurd her mother was being. It was a look John was becoming a little more accustomed to than he liked, even if he knew it was normal for young people to rebel against their parents. At least she came to him and not one of her friends for advice.

  He picked up his coffee mug and exchanged an amused, resigned eye roll with Nick when his back was to her. “Come on then, love. We’ll go into the living room and leave these two to start the washing up.”

  “You don’t have a dishwasher?” Josh blurted out.

  John paused in the doorway and held up his hands, careful not to slosh coffee everywhere. “Aye. Two of them.”

  Josh blinked, then grinned. “Very funny.”

  “Only if you’ve got a sense of humor,” John said. “Glad to know you have.”

  Chapter Four

  “Sorry about that,” Nick said when they’d gone. “She and her mother are having a hard time getting along right now. There’s this scholarship Janet wants Caitrin to try for and let’s just say Caitrin’s not making much progress on the essay that’s supposed to go in with the application.” Nick wasn’t sure Caitrin had even started it, actually, and the forms had all been filled in by Janet herself. Alistair, Janet’s husband, was a silent man who loved both wife and daughter ‑‑ and, as John pointed out, his own skin ‑‑ too much to get in the middle of the mother-daughter feud.