Flowers for the Gardener

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  Dan nodded but came across as uncomfortable. Ethan waited him out.

  “So, you’re happy here?”

  Was it so unfathomable? Maybe. No one had ever asked him before. Not Richard. Not his own father. The man came from a different generation, of course. A time when work and payment came with things like fairness and loyalty. His father never considered himself a number, part of the reason why Ethan resisted telling him the truth about his employer’s refusal to help with his care.

  Was he happy? Ethan…he hadn’t asked himself the question in so direct a fashion.

  Dan at last looked at him. What did the younger man notice? Not wanting to know, Ethan said, “When you’re older you’ll understand sometimes a job is a job. We can’t always have what we want.”

  “I…guess.” Dan straightened his shoulders. “I’m certainly going to try. I’m ready for change. Things have to. They should. I want to be happy.”

  “Good for you.” Ethan tried to concentrate on the work, but his thoughts whirled. Dan was right. Some things finished. Relationships. Jobs. Circumstances. Lives.

  Was he happy here?

  Hard to answer.

  * * * *

  “Want to go somewhere private?”

  Richard. At the sound of his voice, Ethan froze halfway along the path to the staff house. The man must be joking. What kind of greeting was that meant to be? The two of them hadn’t spoken for what was surely four or five days, not since they’d collected the tree. Would serve him right if Ethan carried on walking without saying a word. Took a great deal of effort to spin around to face him.

  Ethan wore jeans, boots, and an old plaid shirt, good enough for work but not one he’d wish to be buried in. With the sleeves rolled up, the real warmth on him came from a gilet his father had bought and insisted he wore on the job if he didn’t want to wear a coat. “Wait until you grow older, son. You’ll understand what it is to feel the cold.”

  Richard stood on the path, dressed for winter, complete with a buttoned up coat and a scarf wound tight around his neck several times. Perfect for unwrapping. Regardless of his animosity, Ethan imagined unwinding it, grabbing hold, using it as leverage to pull Richard closer. To angle the man’s head. Align their lips.

  He shook off the temptation. Whatever Richard read in his eyes appeared to prompt the man to speak.

  “I’m only following your suggestion. If we are, as you say, all about sex, we may as well get to the point.” The anger in Richard’s clipped tone was interesting.

  “Not afraid someone will spot us? Overhear the things you whisper, or the way you moan?”

  He couldn’t decide if Richard’s cheeks turned a little pinker. The man had a flush from the cold, which served to hide it well. His right eye blinked a few times and the muscle in his cheek jumped as though he fought a facial tic. At last Richard admitted, “No one around. No one home.”

  “Well, it explains why you’re brave enough to venture outside. Where should we go? The shed this time?” Ethan opted for being facetious and the taunt worked. Richard’s gaze narrowed.

  “I thought you could come up to my bedroom.”

  “To…” Okay, that stumped him, Richard managed to shock him into silence, but a number of replies ran through Ethan’s mind. When he spoke, he chose the simplest.

  “Lead the way.”

  * * * *

  Though he’d glimpsed the interior of the house through many an open door or window, and though Richard had invited him inside, the sense of trespass followed Ethan all the way across the main entrance hall and up the staircase to Richard’s room.

  Not knowing what to expect, Ethan paused at the threshold. The decor was white, grey, and pale yellow. Simple. Where Ethan’s room struggled to contain everything, Richard’s sleeping quarters were almost minimalistic. One wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a bed, and a small desk in a vast space. Flatpack furniture. Cheap chipboard. What the hell?

  The sight stunned Ethan into stillness, his inability to fathom Ruby Gardener allowing this numbing his mind. This was so different from the sleeping arrangement of the home Richard wished to buy with its master suite attached to individual dressing rooms.

  Speaking of which, he had no idea whether Richard had gone ahead with the purchase. Not the time to ask.

  “What’s wrong?” Richard asked when Ethan continued to hover in the doorway. Like some beggar, cap in hand. Fuck, he was an idiot.

  “Not what I expected.”

  Those steely eyes moved, gaze flicking over the furniture. “I never needed more…here. Guess I knew I wasn’t stopping.”

  At once, Ethan grasped the vague concept plaguing him. Discounting the size, the room might have belonged to a student. Minimal spend. Basic use. All it needed was a small kitchenette to one side and the room would make a good dosshouse.

  A touch on his hand made Ethan jump. He looked at Richard with what he was sure must be an almost guilty expression. No way to avoid Richard’s stare or to move away when a hand drifted to the curve of Ethan’s hip. The touch made his breath hitch, though Ethan didn’t see how so simple a caress could cause such a profound effect. Better not to meet Richard’s gaze. Easier to let his sight go misty, unfocused. Ethan narrowed his vision, turning the world a little blurry. Felt…a hand at his nape, a finger brushing over his cheek, the soft press of Richard’s lips at the side of his mouth. Something nudged his groin and he couldn’t tell which of them were harder.

  What business did he have being here in Richard’s bedroom? What was the point? What if the old bitch walked in? If she didn’t disturb them, if she returned before they…finished, Ethan couldn’t see himself creeping down any back stairs. He’d be damned if he’d do something like that. His silence told Richard nothing. The man had no reason to cease caressing him, hands roving, grip squeezing, unless Ethan told him to stop.

  “Don’t you want to touch me back?”

  Unfortunately, he did, despite his protests and voiceless complaints. Unable to act as delicately as Richard, he slid his hand towards Richard’s groin, glancing into Richard’s beckoning eyes as he stroked his fingers along the hard length pushing against the fabric of the man’s trousers.

  “Here,” Richard said, grabbing Ethan by the hip bones, pulling him close. The kiss was almost chaste—no open lips or tongues—but bruising. Too soon, Richard stepped back, but only to lead Ethan closer to the bed. This time…Richard’s tongue in his mouth, hands clenching, sliding down from his hips to his arse cheeks, kneading flesh and desire into the form he wanted. Lord of the Manor teasing him. Promising with his touch, not with words, but could it be enough?

  The controlled aggression indicated much, Richard imprinting on Ethan with his nails, his lips, his teeth. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, Ethan might have legged it from the room, and not because he was scared, but because he didn’t know how to live without this. He desired Richard and that way lay madness. They were too far apart in life, in expectations, in everything important. A relationship would never work between them, if it was what Richard even wanted. If the man’s mother came to terms with a gay son, Ethan couldn’t imagine being her son-in-law. Best to stop this now, while he was able to distinguish where he ended and Richard began. To call a halt while he remembered how to breathe without Richard.

  “Too slow,” Richard murmured and the protest was Ethan’s undoing.

  Someone groaned and it was Ethan as Richard took him down to the bed. After, he lay silent, protests locked in his throat, as Richard undressed him, peeling off his complaints, diminishing them with every layer of fabric. Richard stripped him until it felt as if the man went beyond clothing, removing pretence, confiscating what little protections Ethan used for a barricade. The man straddled him, forcing Ethan’s cock against Richard’s testicles and perineum. For a second or two, Richard rode him, hips snapping, moving like a woman would in the same position, undulating. Ethan tried to keep his mouth shut but the movement…Holy fuck! All he wanted was to slip inside the man.
r />   * * * *

  At last Ethan gasped. Rich almost shouted in triumph. Whatever ailed Ethan, he’d had enough of it. He tightened his legs, rolled his hips, rocked everything he could along the solid length threatening to spear into him.

  “Get…off.” The order rasped out of Ethan’s throat but Rich didn’t believe it.

  “Only thing better would be fucking you in the big bed in my new house.” A good image to plant in Ethan’s mind, but Rich was certain the man blinked it away.

  “So…you’re leaving?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? Hadn’t been Richard’s intention to bring the topic into the conversation but fine, he’d answer. “At some point, yes. Not yet. Not before I talk to you about it.”

  Ethan got that dark, questioning, mistrustful look on his face, the one Rich knew so well.

  “Not the time,” Rich insisted, slipping down, dragging cock over cock, and overheated skin. He dipped his head and bit one of Ethan’s nipples, making the man shout, and to raise his hips. Wasting no time, Rich slipped a hand between Ethan’s legs, took hold, gave the burning length in his grip a gentle squeeze. A flick of his thumb over the head told Rich all he needed to know. Ethan dripped for him. Funny how this had started out with Ethan seducing him. Swings and roundabouts.

  “Can’t…wait. Need you inside me.” Rich didn’t take his lips from Ethan’s skin or his fingers from Ethan’s dick, but still managed to glance along Ethan’s body to watch his eyes go wide. The look he received contained more than it should, puzzling. Suspicion, still? Surely not. Also…Rich couldn’t tell what. Longing, yes, and desire. Lust rode Ethan as much as it did Rich. Something else…Ethan’s expression remained guarded. Why did the man feel the need to protect himself? He couldn’t think Rich would take his job away from him? Rich’s plans were the opposite of getting rid of him.

  The moment passed when Ethan said, “Condoms.”

  “Bedside. Top drawer.” As they lay across the bed, the cabinet stood within Ethan’s reach and made it easier for him to grab what they needed.

  “You’re sure about this?” Ethan asked, handing over a condom and lube.

  “Never more positive.” That part was true. Whatever problems they had, sex didn’t have to be an issue. Rich quivered at the thought of Ethan entering him. He ached with the notion and not in a bad way. Overcome with emotion, Rich bit Ethan again, this time paying attention to the man’s other nipple. He refused to budge, to raise his head when Ethan’s fingers wove into his hair, pulling. In response, Rich soothed the sting he’d caused with his tongue. He marked Ethan where he could with a suck or a nibble, easing the way with a wet lick as he created a path down to the man’s navel. By the time he arrived, Ethan had stopped trying to tug at him. As well—for a few minutes there, the roots of his hair had been screaming.

  “No. Lay still,” Rich said when Ethan moved. Rich didn’t want Ethan rolling them over, opening his legs, and pushing into him. Not this time.

  Ethan’s reply couldn’t have been more out of keeping. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “What?” Stupid reaction; he shouldn’t have said anything. Rich didn’t want to know. He feared the truth.

  “This. Us. You were right and it’s all a terrible idea.”

  No way was he going to reply. As the only way he could think to shut Ethan up and because he wanted to, Rich shifted until he was able to suck Ethan in to the root. He made sure his mouth was wet and he held his breath, concentrating, refusing to gag as he swallowed around Ethan, throat muscles protesting. A shout rang out and this time, when Rich backed off, Ethan had his eyes closed, his head thrown back, spine arched, fists clenching the bedcovers.

  No point wasting time now. Rich worked the condom on Ethan, applied lube. The man twisted this way and that as though little explosions erupted inside him. Maybe they did.

  “It’sssssnot….”

  Ethan sounded delirious but Rich still didn’t want to know what he struggled to say. He swung a leg over Ethan’s hips and rubbed the head of the man’s cock where he wanted penetrating. Ethan met his stare, gaze bright.

  For a second, Rich hesitated. Did Ethan want this? God, yes. Whatever the man’s complaint, it wasn’t about this. It didn’t involve Rich easing down, sinking, taking Ethan’s cock into him.

  Despite wanting this, initiating this, controlling everything, the shock and delight of the stretch parted his lips, drew cool air down his throat, yet left him breathless. Hands gripped his hips this time, helped steady him.

  “Go slow,” Ethan said, not as Rich thought he needed telling.

  “Fuck!” He no longer wanted slow but aware he’d pay a high price for rushing, he eased up. He rocked down, the descent a little deeper, the rise a little more shallow each time under Ethan’s tutelage. His cock, hard, pulsing, and hot, jutted out at an almost comical angle, but Rich found nothing to laugh about. Staring into Ethan’s eyes struck him as almost embarrassing, the man’s dark gaze so intent. The examination made Rich aware of every facial tic, flutter of Rich’s eyelids, every breath he drew in or breathed out. Of how sweat broke out and dewed his skin. Of how each stroke had him shivering.

  Hands cupped his cheeks, pulled, separated, so that even when he reckoned Ethan must be balls deep, his body opened more and he went a little further. Heat. Friction. Sex. The world fell away, narrowing until there was only the room. Until nothing existed outside of the bed, to the flex of their muscles, the hardness of their grips, the rasping breaths, their twitching nerves and the rising tide.

  Rich slammed down, uncaring if he hurt, each thrust going deeper than seemed possible, than felt right. When he reached for his cock, another hand covered his, he and Ethan both pumping, jerking him off. Ethan snapped his hips, both so close. The look of concentration on Ethan’s face, sent Rich to the edge, only to tremble there as Ethan shortened his thrusts, now the one doing the fucking. A quick glance from between their bodies was all the warning Rich got and Ethan focused on Rich’s cock, on where they fused.

  When Rich came, it felt as if he burst open, like sunlight radiated out through his skin, burning, liquifying.

  Chapter 15

  “You want to sell the company?” His mother set down her fork on the side of her plate with a disturbing calm. No, make it terrifying. He would have preferred she slam the cutlery down, shattered the china. Hell, threw the fork at him. Her gaze glinted, dangerous. Predatory. Saffie appeared aware of it, too. Rich admired her serenity as she took time putting her knife and fork aside, patting at her lips with a napkin. She reached for a glass and drank water.

  “It is one option, Mother.”

  “And this is the first time you mention it? I mean, I don’t assume the two of you both dreamed this up today.” Her gaze flittered back and forth between Rich and Saffie. “I take it the two of you talked.”

  “Not us two.” Rich forced words out through the thickness in his throat. “I’ve spoken to others in the firm. They said you were aware of offers, but preferred to bury them—”

  “Your father turned those proposals down.”

  “Of course he did.” Saffie rotated her glass. “He was alive and well when many of those propositions came through.”

  “And ill and dying when the vultures started circling.” Their mother drained her wine and picked up the decanter to pour another. She ate little these days, drank less so watching her down more than one glass of wine was unsettling.

  “It’s the way of business, I’m afraid.” Rich’s appetite fled. He gave up trying to enjoy the meal.

  “As it may be but your father didn’t give in.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Rich stood, walked around, and took the heavy crystal out of her hand. He poured wine, set the decanter back on the table, and returned to his seat. “Father never gave in and if I admire him for nothing else, I admire him for sticking to his principles. When most ill, he fought to hold on to life.”

  His mother’s wide expression conveyed shock. “I’m glad you say so.”

>   He wanted to convey a message in his statement but he wasn’t sure it got through. “Of course I say so. It’s something we should all learn from him.”

  “You do surprise me. I believed…”

  “What? What did you believe?” Saffie’s tone was caustic. She had carried on eating while Rich poured their mother wine, and now pushed the plate to one side, meal finished. He admired her fortitude and tried to ignore the lump lying in his stomach as his sister continued.

  “Do you believe I never loved him? That I don’t love you? We always loved both of you but it doesn’t mean you’re easy to get along with. We can admire our parents’ attributes while acknowledging their flaws. Yes, Mother. You have flaws.” Sapphire spoke as though Ruby Gardener attempted to interrupt, though the outburst appeared to have stolen her tongue. “We all do. We’re human. At least some of us are. You do make me wonder sometimes.”

  “Saffie.” Rich’s admonishment came as a quiet plea.

  “Saffie?” His mother stared at him. “What is this Saffie? Rich. Saffie.” She shook her head. “I gave you both perfectly good names, so if we’re going to discuss flaws better look closer to where you’re sitting.”

  “Abbreviating one’s name is hardly a blemish on one’s soul.”

  “It’s a character deficit.” Their mother sniffed before taking a few sips of wine.

  “We’re off topic.” If Rich knew his mother, it was what she hoped for.

  “It’s no longer your father’s company. I suppose you’re going to tell me you can do what you like with it.” Ruby Gardener possessed a way of projecting the emotions she wanted people to believe she felt into her voice. He interpreted her tone to indicate disappointment.

  Disappointed in her children; no surprise there.

  Best to speak to his mother as a member of the board rather than a relative at this juncture. “You hold enough stock to influence the board. Doesn’t mean you’d win but we don’t want to go against you. We are hoping to find a more amicable arrangement.”

  “Amicable? Yes, I’m sure. As long as you are both in agreement, it doesn’t matter what I want.”