From downstairs, Avery’s voice grew louder—he must have heard Laurence moving around. He sounded happy, welcoming in the season, and Laurence smiled and headed downstairs to join him.
Even by daylight, the cottage was welcoming. The walls were white, the beams blackened oak, and the furniture simple, but it all felt warm and old and loved. Long boughs of holly and other green and glossy leaves lay along the backs of all the cabinets and on the sill of the window halfway down the stairs.
As Laurence reached the bottom of the stairs, Avery came out of the kitchen. At once his face lit up with the broadest smile Laurence had ever seen. He cried cheerfully, “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” Laurence said, smiling himself. Damn, but the man was just as good-looking by daylight. “You seem to be enjoying the season.”
Avery beamed at him. “The snow no longer falls, the goose is in the oven, and Christ our Savior is born! ’Tis a time for rejoicing!”
Laurence, who had always regarded faith as something both private and serious, had nothing to say to that.
Avery didn’t seem to notice. Instead he reached out and seized Laurence’s hand. “Come, let us break our fast! And then you must help me mix the punch for wassailing.”
“You needn’t feel obliged…,” Laurence started awkwardly. He had asked for this, but it was occurring to him now that it was quite an imposition in such an old-fashioned cottage. How much work had Avery already done?
Avery shook his head. “It makes me happy. It has been a long time since I enjoyed Christmas. Let me see if I can reverse that, just this once.”
Laurence acquiesced, and he was glad he had when he discovered hot toast and warm scrambled eggs waiting on the dining-room table along with bowls of steaming spiced porridge.
“No bacon, alas,” Avery said. “Even I cannot entirely overcome rationing.”
“Should I ask where this food comes from?” Laurence said, pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth.
“Nowhere where anyone will suffer for missing it.” Avery looked very serious for a few moments. “I was careless with others once, but there is a price even to unintentional cruelty. I am careful now.”
“You don’t seem cruel to me. Rather the opposite.” Laurence felt his cheeks heat up when Avery smiled, surprised and delighted. He didn’t normally say such things out loud, however much he thought them.
“You are too kind,” Avery murmured, but he was smiling again. Laurence was liking that smile more and more.
The rest of the day was easy and delightful. They feasted on roast goose and all the trimmings. Laurence would have happily dozed by the fire after that, but Avery cajoled him into a walk, and they headed out across crisp snow, their breath rising in clouds in front of them. It was very quiet outside, even after they left the shelter of the holly copse. The only footprints were deer tracks across one of the fields and the lighter prints of a running rabbit. They didn’t see another human soul, although there was still smoke rising from chimneys and they heard the distant sounds of a dog barking and children’s voices raised in excitement.
Laurence found he didn’t mind. He was enjoying Avery’s company, and there was a virtue in the quiet, in the great sweep of bright sky and gleaming fields, which soothed his soul after so long in close quarters.
When they got back, the dishes had been washed and the punch was warming atop the stove. Avery looked sheepish, but Laurence decided not to comment.
They tuned the radio and listened to the greetings from the Commonwealth and Empire and the king’s speech, Avery’s eyes wide with wonder. It was a good speech this year, one that balanced recognition of the challenges faced with hope for the future, now the war was over.
As the day faded, the candles lit again and the air grew warm. They settled back in front of the fire, and by now Laurence found it easy to talk to Avery. He even, after he had mastered sipping from a wide wassail bowl enough to get quite merry, spilled out the story of the Colonsay’s sinking and what it had done to him.
“We had no idea the bastard was there until the first hit rocked us—I was doing inventory in the infirmary and went arse-over-teakettle myself. Picked myself up, as best as I could when we were listing so badly, and started the evacuation process. We were just off the Yorkshire coast, a troop ship coming out of Newcastle. Then they opened up on us again, scored a direct hit on my infirmary. Lost three orderlies right there, and a bit of hull tore right through the dividing wall into the corridor. Took the lower leg off my patient and ricocheted back to catch me in the back of the head before I could get a tourniquet on him.”
Avery had gone pale.
Laurence looked down at his empty cup, abashed. “Or so they tell me. I don’t remember much after the wall blew in on us. Woke up on land a week later, and I couldn’t walk. Nothing wrong with my legs, but my brain just couldn’t work out how to move them in the right direction. Ended up in Oxford—they had a special ward there for head-injury cases. They got me as close to functional as I’ll ever be. I can walk and talk again. Can’t tell what my hands are doing without looking. Can’t tell left from right. Can’t do even the simplest of sums, which puts me out of a job. Can’t have a doctor who can’t tell the difference between a day’s worth of pills and a month’s worth. And now it seems I might be having the odd hallucination as well.”
He wasn’t expecting Avery to touch him, but suddenly a warm, slightly shaky hand cupped his cheek. “I am no hallucination.”
“The mind is more cunning than that. One of my wardmates used to wake up every night screaming with the pain he felt in a leg that wasn’t there.”
“I am real,” Avery said firmly, though the gleam of gold in his eyes did little to assure Laurence about that.
He didn’t argue. Instead he just said, to calm the situation, “Of course.”
Avery frowned slightly but dropped his hand, looking troubled. “I am always glad when wars end, but I am particularly relieved to see this one done. Despite all the good I have seen over the years, there are always men who seem to live only to create newer and more powerful ways to kill.”
“We’re not a very likable species.”
“I disagree,” Avery said. “Most of us are more careless than deliberately cruel, and we are capable of great good too.”
Laurence thought of the reports he had read about the fate of Europe’s Jews, of a bomb with the power to wipe out an entire city, of the boys who had died beneath his hands however hard he’d tried to heal them. “I admire your optimism.”
Avery smiled, but this one was sad and more than a little lonely. “I have seen so many years pass by, so many generations struggle and yet rise and then fall again. I find I cannot judge any group of men too harshly. There is evil in some men’s hearts, no doubt, but there is redemption too. And each year the days start to grow long again. There is always hope. And on such a heavy note, I say we should pour ourselves another drink and put together a cold supper.”
Laurence was only too happy to change the subject, and they continued their evening on less depressing topics. Strangely enough, given he was spending it with a chance-met stranger, it was the best Christmas Day Laurence had spent since his godfather died.
It all felt so easy, hidden away from the world and all its dilemmas. He slept like a baby again that night, thinking of Avery’s pink cheeks and heartfelt smile as he slipped into sleep, and woke warm and comfortable again.
Boxing Day slid by just as easily. Avery talked more than Laurence did, but it never felt overbearing. They had enough differences to make conversation interesting, and enough in common to make it comfortable. Laurence was well aware that both of them were trying their best to get along, but he liked Avery more with every hour and thought that might be sincerely returned. He’d found this sort of easy friendship a few times before in his life—a school friend he still visited whenever he could get to Edinburgh, and a fellow medic who had gone down with the Lancastria. He’d slept with both of them, but Hi
lary was married now, and Denis, who might have been more, was sleeping forever off the coast of France.
But the war was over, and maybe he could have more—probably not with Avery, whom he barely knew and would likely never see again once he returned to London, but with someone.
What a strange thought to wake to. He had spent so much time worrying about his brain and his job that it hadn’t occurred to him to imagine anything good in his future.
The evening was just as pleasant, but he knew that the trains would be running again the next day and he should go. But when Avery said, “Stay one more day,” it didn’t take much persuasion.
If you were going to hide from the world, why not do it with a man who claimed to be a wizard? And Laurence’s skepticism was fading a little with each day packed full of otherwise inexplicable coincidence. He stayed for one more day, and then one after that, and then another two. No one was expecting him. No one would miss him if he never went back to his old life. Even his parents, still in India, were virtually strangers these days, and there was no one else, save a faraway friend who turned awkward whenever his wife and Laurence sat at the same table.
They left the house a few times, but Avery always steered them away from the village, out across the fields. Twice they saw someone in the distance, and Avery waved in greeting before hurrying them away. No one ever waved back.
The snow was beginning to melt, muddy ridges showing in the fields and the roads turning wet and black. The trains were running again, steaming past the foot of the hill. Avery always stopped to watch them and then peppered Laurence with fascinated questions that led to them both sitting over the kitchen table as Laurence tried to sketch a combustion engine with hands that still did not always obey him. He could explain it well enough, at least, and Avery was an apt pupil, soaking up knowledge eagerly.
And then there was the flirting. It was subtle at first—a smile that lasted too long, a compliment just beyond the limits of the appropriate, a steadying touch as they picked their way along a muddy path. Laurence knew this game, though—had played its subtle rounds before.
Avery clearly knew it too, though sometimes his smile was a little too delighted for discretion. It didn’t matter, though. There was no one here to watch and judge. There was something thrilling about being able to take their time with it, to linger on that edge of anticipation without fear of the world crashing in on them.
And so Laurence stayed, day after day, until a week had passed and the New Year was coming in with rain falling to wash the last of the snow away. There was a pleasure even in the rain, in staying inside by the fire while it drummed steadily against the windows, of endless pots of tea and buttered toast for supper and the way Avery reached out to brush a crumb away from Laurence’s mouth, his fingers lingering as Laurence smiled against them, looking up through his lashes but not speaking an invitation.
“You’ll see midnight in with me,” Avery murmured, his fingers trailing away. “See in the New Year?”
“I never thought I’d see 1947,” Laurence said.
Avery shook his head a little as if in disbelief. “Oh, Laurence,” he murmured and then his expression brightened again. “In my time, we gave our gifts at New Year. Should I offer you something, good friend? Some small token of my regard?”
Laurence swayed closer, warmth rising through him. “You wouldn’t embarrass me by offering something I couldn’t return, would you?”
“God forbid.”
It was easy to lift his gaze and put his hand on Avery’s shoulder, easier still to pull himself up and murmur, close to Avery’s pink lips, “Yet all I brought here was myself.”
“A royal gift, indeed,” Avery said, his mouth turning up in a smile. Then they were kissing, lips clinging and catching, and it was the sweetest thing Laurence had ever tasted, delight shivering through him as Avery laughed brightly and pulled him closer.
They stumbled upstairs, candles flaring up around them to light their way. Avery’s door swung open before they even reached it, although Avery’s hands were busy pushing up Laurence’s shirt, and Laurence heard the swish and rattle of the curtains closing before Avery’s mouth on his throat distracted him and he threw his head back, clenching his hands on Avery’s hips.
Avery’s bedroom warmed with every step they took across it, filling with light as fireplace, lamp, candles all came alight, glowing as golden as Avery himself—gold in his eyes, reflecting in his hair, dancing across his pale skin as his shirt fell away, the buttons somehow working themselves out of their holes. Laurence’s belt undid itself and slithered to the floor.
“Still set against magic?” Avery murmured, nosing aside the open front of Laurence’s shirt to lay kisses along the line of his shoulder.
“It’s growing on me,” Laurence admitted, as he ran his hands down the long warm length of Avery’s bare back, pressing kisses to Avery’s hairline. Everything felt magical right now, as if all that golden light was sinking into him, warming his skin and heart with bubbling, uncomplicated happiness.
Avery’s clothes had all slid off now, and he was naked and beautiful in Laurence’s arms, wrapping around Laurence in a hot embrace. Then he pulled away, taking two steps back until he was falling onto the bed, spreading himself out across the sheets with the unconscious ease of someone who knew he was beautiful. For a moment Laurence was stunned by him, barely able to breathe as he gazed down at the man laid out before him—his broad shoulders, his mouth swollen from kisses, his long lean thighs spread open to display his plump cock rising eagerly.
Then Avery held out his hand and murmured, “Laurence, please.”
And Laurence went to him, kicking the last of his own clothes off and crawling onto the bed. Avery watched him without moving, his eyes hot, until Laurence lowered himself down, fitting his body against Avery’s with care, groin to groin, belly to belly, chest to chest, until only his forearms propped him up, his face just above Avery’s.
“Such beauty,” Avery murmured, finally lifting his hand to trace through Laurence’s hair. “You shine like gold against me.”
Laurence’s heart, already pounding, leaped again, and all he could do was lean down to meet Avery’s kiss. Avery’s arms came up around him, and they were moving against each other, and maybe it was magic or maybe it was just the simple joy of body against body with a man he genuinely liked, but Laurence felt more giddy and alight with joy with every touch, every kiss, every thrust.
He closed his eyes in the end, when every glimpse of Avery’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes made him gasp until he wasn’t sure how he could keep breathing. In the darkness behind his eyelids, every touch felt like fire, and he imagined Avery’s roaming hands leaving trails of gold across his skin, transforming him into something bright and glorious.
“Oh, Laurence,” Avery sighed in his ear, voice rough and breathy. “Look at you.”
“I can’t,” Laurence gasped, throwing his head back as Avery’s hand closed around his cock and stroked him so tenderly his heart ached even as fire danced under his skin. “Oh, God. Avery, Avery—”
Avery hushed him, voice warm and amused, and his hand slowed. “Not yet, my beauty. Not yet. Hold it back for me, yes?”
“Yes.” And then Avery’s fingers were sliding down the crack of Laurence’s arse to stroke the edge of his hole, slick and so gentle it sent sparks flying up his spine.
“Let me?” Avery whispered against his mouth.
“Yes,” Laurence breathed again and sank into another kiss as Avery worked him open, slow and tender as Laurence writhed against him. When he finally pulled his fingers away and replaced them with the broad press of his cock, Laurence broke the kiss, breathing too hard to keep his mouth pressed against Avery’s. He pushed down, feeling every jolt go through him as he stretched around Avery. He’d missed this so much, but at the same time he knew it had never felt like this before.
Avery’s hand spread across his back, lowering them both down against the pillows as he thrust deeper, h
is hips starting to rock as he rolled Laurence beneath him. Laurence strained against him, torn between the need to be filled—to be fucked—and the desperate longing to come. He groped blindly for his own cock, but Avery caught his hand and breathed, “Not yet.”
Laurence groaned and opened his eyes.
Avery was brighter than gold above him. Laurence couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or something more, but it looked like all the light in the room had gathered to pool in Avery’s eyes and outline him in shimmering webs of golden fire. The sight made his balls throb and his cock leap, and he whimpered.
“I have you,” Avery murmured and leaned in to lay his mouth against Laurence’s. At the same time, mercifully, he reached down to wrap his warm palm around Laurence’s cock.
And Laurence came apart in a blaze of light and glory, with Avery inside him and above him, burning to his own conclusion as Laurence shook and melted around him.
Chapter Four
IT WAS a long time before he could think clearly again, especially with Avery curled up behind him, his hand spread over Laurence’s heart and his voice murmuring antiquated endearments. By the time Laurence had summoned his scattered wits back together, they had heard the distant church bells ring in the turning of the year.
“So,” Laurence said at last, “that was magic.”
“And more,” Avery said. He sounded somewhere between smug and bewildered. “Even with a little enchantment, it’s not usually so….”
Laurence hummed, curling back against him. He had never had the luxury of staying in a man’s bed before—there was always discretion to be considered. He liked it. “Even so, I feel I should apologize for my earlier skepticism.”
“Apology accepted,” Avery said, sounding amused. He kissed the nape of Laurence’s neck.
Laurence hummed with pleasure. He still felt loose and languid, but oddly alert with it. Magic, huh.
Avery kissed him again, lips lingering, and slid his hand sideways a little to brush Laurence’s nipple.
The Holly Groweth Green Page 3
