“Adelie penguins practice necrophilia.”
“Shut the fuck up.” But Thorne was laughing as he said it.
Linton relaxed into the rhythmic push and pull back of Thorne’s cock down his crack, feeling himself fall into deeper and deeper bliss.
“Fuck me,” Linton whispered. “Do it.”
“I want to know about the necrophilia. I’m intrigued.”
Linton clenched the sheets in his fists. “Tell you later. When you’re not busy.”
Thorne drove long and hard and deep, pushing Linton into the bed and for a moment the pair of them froze, neither of them breathing.
“Did you come already?” Linton asked.
“You are such a fuckwit.”
Thorne pulled back and thrust into him with such force it shifted Linton up the bed, drove the air from his lungs and sent adrenaline racing around his body. Thorne fucked him so hard Linton’s world turned inside out. All that filled his head was the word more.
“Oh Christ, you feel so good,” Thorne gasped.
Thorne’s hands slid to Linton’s hips and held him in place while Linton clutched the top of the bed and struggled to control his breathing.
“I wish…I could do this…forever,” Thorne said between thrusts.
Linton knew what he meant and it wasn’t quite what it sounded like but something inside him broke into pieces. All his aches melted away until the sensation of being fucked overwhelmed everything else. He didn’t even want to slide his hand to his own dick. He just wanted to feel Thorne’s pleasure melding with his own.
Thorne jolted and gave a guttural cry as he came, staccato gasps filling the room as his cock pulsed inside Linton.
“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” Thorne panted.
He pulled Linton onto his side, pressed himself against his back and wrapped his arms around him.
“Why did you stop?” Linton asked.
“You…” Thorne let out a strangled laugh.
His hand slipped to Linton’s dick and a moment later Linton spurted all over Thorne’s fingers.
“Oh shit. I shouldn’t have done that with you so knocked about but it felt good,” Thorne whispered.
“Yeah, it did. I know I can’t put this on Facebook, but I really want to.”
Thorne laughed so hard, Linton worried he’d choke.
The following morning while Linton slept, Thorne slipped out of the bedroom and checked his phone. Orlando had left several increasingly belligerent messages. Thorne called him.
“Where the fuck are you?” Orlando demanded. “On the moon?”
“Why?”
“You stay in touch, Thorne. You do not disappear off the planet. You do not ignore my calls. Your only excuse is being dead.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Owen Devere.”
Thorne’s stomach rose into his throat. God, is he dead? “Is he okay?”
“He drove his brother’s car into a wall.”
“Yeah, I know, but--”
“What do you mean you know?” Orlando screeched.
“I went to see him yesterday.”
“And you didn’t call me? Jesus Christ. Fortunately, Max does not want the world to know his little brother’s been driven to suicide by the way you treated him. This was an accident. You hear me? I don’t want you making a statement to the press. Where are you? And don’t say at home because I know you’re not.”
“I’m at a friend’s.”
“The press is camped outside your house. Be very careful what you say. At least Max Devere and I are united on this. Owen took the car without permission and lost control. Maybe a wasp flew in. Yeah, I like that. It works. This had nothing to do with you, even though it did. I’ll send flowers from you.”
“Is…is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine. He’s an attention-seeking little shit. Pity he didn’t make a better job of cutting his wrists. You don’t need anyone else like him, Thorne. He still has the capacity to drag you down. Stay out of sight. At least you’re flying to Ireland next week. You’re less likely to get pestered over there. By the way, the tickets are at your house. The car is booked to collect you. I’ve sent you an itinerary. Do not talk about Owen to anyone.”
Orlando ended the call. The guy was all heart.
Thorne didn’t want to go home. He wanted to spend the weekend with Linton and do something fun. Maybe the best way to show Owen that they really were over was to be seen with someone else, not stay out of sight. But it wasn’t fair on Linton to use him like that. The guy had no idea what the press could be like.
Though if they were going to be an item, Linton would have to learn to cope with the attention. If he couldn’t, maybe it was better to find out before things went any further. Thorne called the concierge company he’d used a few times.
“Ultima Services,” said a plummy voiced woman. “What can I do for you, Mr Morrisey?”
“Morning, Gloria. I need help.”
“That’s why we’re here.”
Most of the requests they had were for tables at fully-booked restaurants or tickets to sold-out shows or sports events. Thorne had asked for both in the past and got what he needed. This time it was a bit different. He outlined his requirements and she didn’t miss a beat.
“I’ll call you when the vehicle is outside.”
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
“We are.”
Thorne sat on the edge of the bed hoping he’d thought of everything to make what he‘d planned a success. He wanted to wait until the last possible moment before he woke Linton. The bruises on his upper body looked even worse now, dark, angry, and bigger. Linton sucked in a breath and frowned as he shifted on the bed and Thorne swallowed hard. It was his fault Linton had been hurt.
There was also a worm nibbling Thorne’s gut. He might have asked Linton not to tell him whatever it was he wanted to say, but how could he not be curious? It had to be something important, yet not important enough for Linton to have insisted on confessing whatever the fuck it was. Was he sick? Leaving the country? Broke?
Then again, Thorne wasn’t sure he wanted him to open up because what if it wasn’t something he could fix?
Despite what Owen had done, and despite Thorne’s promise to himself to not get involved again, not fall so deep, so fast, that’s exactly what he was doing. He knew hardly anything about this guy. He certainly shouldn’t trust him. Yet he had. He still did.
Thorne watched Linton come round, his face changing as he emerged from sleep, from tense to smooth and finally into a yawn. His front teeth were slightly crooked, but that just added to his charm. Beautiful but flawed. Eyes that sometimes hid what he was thinking. Just like Thorne. Nothing like Owen who wore his heart on his sleeve. The guy hadn’t cheated on him before, Thorne was sure of it. Owen couldn’t have hidden it.
Linton opened his eyes and looked straight at Thorne. “Fuck.”
Thorne laughed. “Was that a command?” He tugged back the sheet and uncovered the rest of Linton’s naked body, his gaze falling over the hard plains and shadowy hollows of Linton’s chest, trying to ignore the vivid bruising. “Time to get up. Oops, you already are.”
Linton groaned and rolled over.
“I borrowed one of your shirts. Hope that’s okay.”
“Yep.” Linton didn’t move.
“You need to get up. I’ve made coffee. We have somewhere we need to be.”
Linton mumbled into the pillow.
“Do I need my whip?” Thorne asked.
Linton turned his head and with an exaggeratedly eager look on his face asked, “You have a whip?”
“We need to discuss kinks. We stalled on cock rings.”
Linton groaned as he rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Thorne followed and stopped in the doorway unsure whether Linton knew he was there. Linton stepped into the shower and Thorne had a side-on view as water poured over Linton’s head and cascaded down his body. He tipped his head back, arching his neck and began to j
ack off. Oh yeah, he knows I’m there.
It was the most erotic thing Thorne thought he’d ever seen, and he’d watched a lot of porn. The expression on Linton’s face gave Thorne an instant erection. When Linton turned and looked straight at him, Thorne almost came in his jeans.
“Do you have to?” Thorne asked with a groan.
“Shower? Yeah, I stink.” Linton blinked as water caught on his lashes. His hand shifted faster.
Thorne was torn between staring at Linton’s face and focusing on his cock. Linton’s face won. But when the guy’s breathing faltered Thorne’s gaze dropped to Linton’s hand. A moment later, cum spattered the glass between them and Thorne clamped his hand over his tackle before he followed suit.
Linton emerged from the shower and grabbed a towel.
Thorne didn’t let go of his crotch, pressing in hard with the heel of his hand. “Now what I am supposed to do?”
“Wait?”
“Oh God. I can’t.” Thorne yanked him into his arms, crushing their mouths together in a deep kiss.
Chapter Sixteen
By the time Thorne’s phone beeped with a text, he and Linton had finally taken their hands off each other long enough to get dressed. Linton lay sprawled on the couch with his eyes closed, looking so tempting, Thorne contemplated delaying their departure. But once he had Linton back in bed, Thorne would never want to get out of it and he really ought to leave the guy alone. Thorne had seen him wincing.
“Okay, time to go,” Thorne said.
“What? Where?”
“Surprise.”
“Not sure I can cope with any more surprises. Who’d have thought you could do that with your toes.”
Thorne laughed. “You must have been dreaming.”
Linton opened his eyes, grinned and rolled slowly to his feet. “Just let me get my phone and wallet.”
He came back with his messenger bag hooked over his shoulder.
“What the hell do you have in there?”
“My favourite dildo, toothbrush, pyjamas and a dummies guide to fisting. Oh and my pony play equipment.”
“I’m not sure whether I want you to be joking or not.”
Linton raised one eyebrow. “Be sure. Fisting is not going to happen.”
“Pony play?” Thorne panted like a thirsty dog and Linton laughed.
A black Land Rover Discovery was parked outside the building, a silver Audi idling behind. The sun shone in a clear blue sky and the temperature was already on the rise. Perfect weather for what Thorne had planned.
A tall thin guy climbed out of the front vehicle and handed Thorne the key. “Enjoy your day, Mr Morrisey.”
“Thanks.”
The man climbed in the passenger seat of the Audi and it pulled away.
Thorne glanced in the back of the Discovery and as requested, everything he’d asked for had been hidden away. Ultima were expensive but highly efficient.
“Climb in,” Thorne said.
“Is this yours?” Linton settled beside him and fastened his seat belt.
“No. Borrowed it.” His convertible was nowhere near big enough for everything he’d asked Ultima to provide.
Thorne headed down the street toward the Blackwall tunnel.
“How long is it going to take us to get there?” Linton asked.
“Depends how often I have to stop and drag you into the bushes.”
Linton chuckled. “So we’re heading into the country then? Only all the bushes around here are in front of people’s houses.”
“Not sure that would stop me. You’re very tempting. If I wasn’t trying to impress you, I’d just take you home and tie you to my bed.”
He glanced at Linton to see him staring at him.
“And then what?” Linton asked.
Thorne felt as if he was continually smiling when he was with Linton.
“Maybe I’d experiment with tiger play, just for something different.”
“Oh God. In my experience tiger play always ends badly.”
I really like you, funny guy.
“Where’s the weirdest place you’ve ever fucked?” Linton asked.
“A hole in my teddy bear.”
Linton almost choked as he laughed. “That’s not what I meant,” he spluttered.
“I know. But it’s true. The stitches on his lower back had started to come undone--well, with a bit of help. I was thinking of hiding something inside him. Not my cock but… Shit. I loved Derby. I’d had him since I was tiny and he’d been there for me every night and I repaid his loyalty by fucking him in the arse. I still feel bad about it.” God why did I tell him that? I’ve never told anyone.
“Did you do it again though?”
“Oh yeah. He kept flaunting that furry backside. I couldn’t resist.” Thorne pulled up at traffic lights. “I stopped last year because he was getting a bit squishy.”
Linton was holding his stomach and groaning. “Oh God, that hurts. Stop making me laugh.”
“What about you?” Thorne turned toward Greenwich and the A2.
“I never fucked my teddy bear. It never even occurred to me. You disgusting weirdo. I was thinking of actual places. On a beach, a roof, in a garden shed, in a Land Rover Discovery. I did it once in a haystack. Actually inside the haystack. Uncomfortable, hard to breathe and not very safe. The only thing I liked about it was the not being safe.”
Lust surged in Thorne’s gut. “You like taking risks?”
“Sometimes. Do you?”
“Sometimes.” Thorne smiled to himself. “When was your first kiss?”
“At school. I was twelve. I’d spotted a boy called Will giving me long glances in the showers. I lured him behind the cricket pavilion on the pretext of looking for a lost ball. Amazingly enough he found two and so did I.
“When was your first blowjob?” Linton asked.
“Giving or getting?”
“Both,” Linton said.
“Giving, when I was thirteen. In detention for being cheeky in Latin. The prefect in charge let everyone go but me and locked the door. My first blow job and I spat it out on his shoes. He made me clean them. I had to do detention again the next night and the next until I got that I was supposed to swallow.” He huffed. “First one I received was from a woman. I was fifteen. She was thirty. God, she had a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.” Shit, don’t talk about women. “Pet hates?” Thorne asked quickly.
“Arrogance and anchovies. What about you?”
“Burning my toast pisses me off big time.”
“What? When you do it or your slave?”
“Ha ha.”
“I love burnt toast, burnt bacon, burnt sausages.”
They covered what made them laugh, made them angry, made them cry. For Thorne that was dogs doing stupid things, burning his toast and kids getting hurt. For Linton it was being tickled, Dirk being a twat and remembering what a shit childhood Dirk had endured.
“Tickled where?” Thorne asked.
“Not saying.”
Thorne put his foot down as the traffic thinned out. “Are your parents still alive?”
“I have no idea. Are yours?”
“Yeah.” How could he have no idea whether his parents were still alive?
“Thought we weren’t going to talk about family.” Linton said.
“You can’t tell me you don’t know whether your parents are alive and not expect me to wonder what happened.”
Linton sighed. “You started it. You go first.”
“Okay. Mine live in Naples, Florida. I occasionally talk to them on the phone but the last time saw I saw them was two years ago. They don’t come to the UK very often. I’ve little interest in visiting them and River won’t fly. I’ve no idea why they ever had kids. They paid for us to be looked after from birth until we went off to boarding school and they thought that was enough. River needed our parents’ support more than I did but they struggled to cope with him.”
“What did they do for a living?”
“My mother
was a fashion model until she had kids. After she had us, she stopped. My father made his money in pharmaceuticals. He’s devoted to my mother to the point of obsession. I suspect he only agreed to kids in order to keep her happy, though I’m fairly certain she changed her mind about children once she realised they were hard work. We had a succession of nannies who never lasted long enough for us to form much of an attachment.”
Thorne paused. “That probably has something to do with why I’m a bit fucked-up.” He sucked his teeth. “Maybe a lot fucked-up.”
“Man hands on misery to man.”
“You know Philip Larkin?”
“They fuck you up, your mum and dad. Yeah, I know that poem. Not sure I agree though. I mean, I do think kids turn out the way they do because of their parents but you have the chance to be different when you’re older. You make your own life. I learned what not to do, what not to be like. At least I hope I have.”
“I wish you were going to tell me you have wonderful parents who doted on you and Dirk and didn’t give a toss that you’re gay and bi.”
“My parents hated one another. My mother loved me too much and hated Dirk. I mean really hated. She treated him so badly. At Christmas, I’d get everything I wanted and Dirk got nothing he’d asked for. I tried asking for things I knew Dirk wanted but she saw through that. I saved my pocket money and bought him stuff but there was only so much I could do.”
“Why did she dislike him so much?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she never wanted a second child. Or maybe she wanted a girl. She suffocated me with affection and starved Dirk. She was a complete bitch.”
Thorne heard the venom in Linton’s voice. “You don’t even know if she’s alive or dead?”
“I’m not in touch with her and don’t want to be. It’s partly her fault Dirk turned out the way he did. She never praised him, never made him believe in himself. She was always calling him a loser. Once I’d left home to go to university, things got so bad that eventually Dirk walked out just before he took his GCSEs. Since then his life has been one long fuck-up. I should have done more to help. I tried but he never makes it easy. I want his world to turn again. I’ll do anything I can to help him sort himself out. Anything.”
Dirty Games Page 21
