“Even though I’m a fuck-up?” Caspian smiled but he meant it.
Hidden by the table, Zed slid his hand onto Caspian’s lap and stroked his cock.
Caspian groaned. “Though it kills me to say it—don’t.”
Zed did it again.
“You do know that if you carry on, we’ll have to drag the cello into the train toilet?”
Zed laughed and leaned in to lick Caspian’s ear.
“Stop making me want to fuck you,” Caspian whispered. “All I can think about is stripping you naked and I’ll be the one arrested.”
Zed moved his hand. “Distract me. Tell me about the stag-do you’ve arranged for Henry.”
“No because he’ll worm the truth out of you.”
“He’ll kill you if you don’t give him what he asked for. We sat and discussed it. No drag artist make-up course, no naked butlers, no strip clubs, no dressing up in silly outfits. He’s written a comprehensive list.”
Caspian laughed. “Anyone would think he didn’t trust me. Hey, Saturday will be the cultural day he requested. We’re going to a museum then we’re going for a meal.”
“What museum?” Zed gave him a suspicious look.
“Not telling.”
“He’s not going to like it. You do realise he’s got work colleagues coming?”
“Yep and I’ve talked to all of them. They’re fine with what I’ve arranged and sworn to secrecy.”
“But you’re not going to tell me?”
“No.”
Zed smiled. “Well, I guess I can’t get blamed if I knew nothing.”
“There you go.”
“Jonas is much easier to please. Afternoon tea at Fortnum and Mason and a trip to the theatre. I was torn between Paw Patrol—The Great Pirate Adventure or King Lear.”
Caspian snorted with laughter. “Is that what you’re actually going to do?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Maybe we should all meet up at a club afterwards. Get the grooms together for a while.”
“What club though?” Zed asked.
“Maybe a boat on the Thames instead? That could be fun.”
“Good idea. I’ll look into it. If I book for twenty-five we should be fine. So what have you been up to? Heard from any of your family?”
“What do you think?”
“No.”
“And you’d be right.”
Zed winced. “How’s work?”
“It’s okay.”
His meeting last year to pitch one of his ideas to an investor had turned into a discussion about what else he’d thought about, that in turn morphed into a job offer, three days in the office, two working from home. His boss, Steve Greenaway, invested in new technology companies, and Caspian was learning from the bottom up. Every time Steve said that Caspian had a hard time not laughing.
“Steve’s given me responsibility for researching the limb support business. You remember I had the idea of 3D printing supports to help children with walking difficulties? Well, there are a few companies already doing it, including helmets for skull deformities. Plus there are leg and foot supports made from low temperature thermoplastics that can be altered at home with a hairdryer if they don’t quite fit. And there’s a company who want to do 3D printing for animals’ limbs.”
“You don’t sound enthusiastic.”
“I am but yeah well, I’m not quick at reading as you know. I like thinking things up and I suppose I should be pleased a lot of my ideas are already in production, but I still want to come up with something no one else has yet thought of. Steve would like me to do an Open University degree in engineering but I can’t cope with the thought of struggling for three or four years. He says there are a few universities that specialise in helping dyslexic students. I don’t know if I want to be a dyslexic student.”
Caspian wished he hadn’t said any of that. Zed was soaring and he was climbing a long ladder rung by rung, and had been for some time.
“Written any new songs?” Caspian changed the subject.
“A couple. I’ll play them to you later.”
Zed hadn’t signed with a label but made full use of modern technology to go it alone, albeit with help from a recording studio and advice from people in the business. He’d created a website, posted the lyrics to his songs, made regular blog posts, let people download for free and ended up on playlists for Spotify and Apple Music among others. Caspian had even played the guitar on a few tracks and he and Zed had written some songs together. Zed had tens of millions of streams of his music though the royalties were small, but at least it was something. He’d also sold lyrics and made money from that. Zed said he was content to stick to what he was doing and maybe do a few live performances, in clubs, parks and festivals, but Caspian wasn’t convinced that was true.
Zed yawned as they walked up to the house from Maze Hill station. He ached.
“Did you sleep on the plane?” Caspian asked.
“A bit. But I was sandwiched between a guy who kept laughing at the film he was watching and a kid who wriggled the whole time.”
“Anything new on the Tamaz front?”
“No. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or bad.”
After Letters of Administration were granted, Zed, with help from Jackson and Henry, had sorted out his father’s affairs. All the money was now in the bank in Zed’s account. He and Tamaz had almost three-quarters of a million pounds each after splitting their father’s assets and from the sale of the house. Jackson had Zed call Tamaz to try and persuade him to come back to the UK. Tamaz had said no, and not hidden his anger when Zed refused to transfer the money to him.
Tamaz had ranted about Zed’s selfishness, told him to google the El-Shariz orphanage because it was those children he was hurting. Zed wished he could believe his brother was involved in the orphanage but to his bitter disappointment, Tamaz had been identified with a group of Isis soldiers on footage shot by a drone. Tamaz hadn’t been dressed like them but he was with them and nowhere near the El-Shariz children’s home. Jackson didn’t want a million pounds going to support terrorism. Nor did Zed.
Now they were playing a waiting game. Would Tamaz come back to the UK or not?
Caspian opened the door and pulled the suitcase inside.
“It’s good to be home.” Zed yawned as he carried his cello to the music room.
“You need a hand showering?”
“Not if you want us to make it up to the hot tub.”
Caspian smiled. “Have a cold shower and wake up. I’ll make sure the hot tub’s at the right temperature.”
Zed was not going to have a cold shower. But he was quick, checked his father’s phone to see if Tamaz had sent him a message—no—then put his phone on charge, pulled on his trunks, wrapped a towel around his waist and headed up the stairs to the roof. Caspian was already in the steaming, bubbling water—naked. Zed shucked off his trunks, let them drop with the towel and climbed in.
“Shiiiiit,” he yelped. “You trying to cook me?”
Zed sat on the edge, reached back for the towel and draped it over his lap but his cock tented the material.
“Worried about passing planes?” Caspian slid over to him.
“Now I know just how much drones can see, and how we can’t even trust that insects are actually insects, I’m being cautious.”
Caspian rose up on his knees, pressed his lips to Zed’s and Zed melted against him. His tongue surged into Zed’s mouth and he grabbed Caspian’s arse to keep him close. Caspian groaned as he sucked on his tongue and somehow, in a magician’s trick, the towel disappeared from between them and Caspian pulled him down into the water. Hot, hot but Zed didn’t want to move. Wrapped around each other, he had one hand threaded in Caspian’s hair and the other plastered to his back, while Caspian clung to Zed’s neck with both hands. The kiss continued.
Zed adored kissing Caspian, loved the way the kiss lit up his body, ramped up need, made his heart pound and his toes curl. Ca
spian angled Zed’s mouth so he could plunge his tongue deeper and gentle nibbling turned greedy, noisy and desperate. Zed sat with his legs over Caspian’s, their chests pressed together, cocks sandwiched between them. Every movement, every rock, every brush that Caspian made against him sent bolts of lust spiralling to Zed’s groin, winding him up like a clockwork toy.
Finally, Caspian pulled back, breathing heavily, his eyes glazed, his lips kiss-swollen.
“You do remember Henry’s rules about the hot tub?” Zed panted.
“No glass. No peeing. No adding your own bubbles. No soap. No diving. No front crawl, no back crawl. No hanky panky—whatever that means. No eating. He didn’t say No eating Zed.”
Zed laughed.
“So eating Zed is top of my list along with breaststroke.” He tweaked Zed’s nipple. “I’m not going to spill a drop of you. Just don’t let me drown. Move a bit higher in case I need to surface fast.”
Zed sat on the seat and Caspian knelt in front of him, leaning in to lick around Zed’s nipple. Zed arched into him and wrapped his hand around the back of Caspian’s head to hold him in place.
“Oh Christ.” Zed’s breathing was shaky.
Caspian nipped and licked and sucked each nipple in turn before he licked down the centre of Zed’s chest. He fluttered his tongue in and around his navel, looked up at him while he did it and Zed felt the pull in his balls.
“I think we should make the water flavoured,” Caspian said.
“Too many chemicals in it. How long can you hold your breath?”
“Long enough to make you come.” Caspian smacked his lips and Zed groaned.
“Ten minutes?”
“Ha ha.”
Caspian dipped below the surface, wrapped his mouth around Zed’s cock and sucked. Zed’s hips jerked so strongly, he propelled Caspian out of the water and caused a small tidal wave. Caspian fell back, went under and came up spluttering.
“Sorry,” Zed blurted.
“Shall we try that again? I’ll hold on with one hand and wave my hat in the air at the same time. Time me.”
Zed stretched out his arms and grabbed the sides of the tub. He held tight and closed his eyes. Maybe not looking would help.
Caspian’s hands slid under his backside and lifted him. The top of his cock was out of the water, his balls still submerged. If someone could see them…he didn’t care. Caspian blew across the tip of his shaft and Zed caught his breath. The slide of Caspian’s slick, talented tongue along and into the narrow slit, kickstarted his lungs. Then Caspian set him back on the seat so that his cock was underwater and took almost all of him into his mouth. Zed had to open his eyes to watch.
He couldn’t see much more than Caspian’s dark head bobbing in his lap but when he brought a hand down to Caspian’s cheek and felt the head of his cock surging in his mouth, his balls tingled. He loved the feel of himself under Caspian’s skin.
Every time he thought he might come, Caspian changed what he was doing, pressed down at the base of his cock, bit the inside of his thighs, or gently sucked his balls before he went back to his cock. Didn’t he need to breathe?
Caspian deepthroated him and Zed groaned. “Fuuuuck.”
Then everything was suddenly speed and pressure and intensity in a rhythm that ensured orgasm bounded toward him. He slammed his hand to his mouth to muffle his cry as he exploded into Caspian’s mouth, his body jerking with the force of each spasm.
When he’d finally done and Caspian let him free, he still didn’t emerge and Zed had a moment of panic before Caspian shot up like a champagne cork and gasped. “Personal best—twenty seconds.”
Zed pushed him down again.
They spent the rest of the day in bed together, each other’s body a personal adventure playground. While Caspian slept, Zed found a party boat company and booked twenty-five places for Saturday night, though when he put the phone down, he realised he’d used his father’s phone by mistake. Bloody jet lag.
Jonas and Henry bought home an Indian takeaway and Zed set the table.
“Did you have fun in the States?” Jonas asked.
“Yep, I did. I bought Mira some flowers before I left and when she burst into tears, I almost did too. Out of all of them, it was her reaction I’d been worried about but she’s been nothing but kind. The only difficulty was being asked about Tamaz. I couldn’t tell them the truth so I had to repeat his lie about the orphanage. It pisses me off they think he’s a good guy.”
“He might be,” Jonas said.
Zed shrugged. “I wish that was true.”
“Is everything arranged for Saturday?” Henry asked. “Am I going to be happy?”
Caspian smiled. “You’ll be ecstatic.”
“Oh fuck,” Henry muttered.
Jonas laughed.
“Did you go for option one or two on the theatre?” Caspian asked Zed.
“One.”
“Good.” Caspian grinned at Jonas.
“Oh shit,” Jonas said. “You’re not going to handcuff me in a train and send me to Aberdeen?”
“That’s a good idea,” Zed said. “But no.”
“Nor kidnap me, drive me out into the countryside and force me to cycle home wearing nothing but a mankini?”
The three of them gaped at Jonas.
“I’ve been googling,” he said. “Please don’t shave off all my hair, paint me blue, pretend to have me arrested or leave me anywhere naked.”
Zed smiled. “You’re both getting what you asked for.”
“Maybe not quite what you asked for but nearly,” Caspian added.
“How about the actual wedding. No hiccups?” Zed asked.
“No,” Henry said. “My mother and sister are quietly panicking but would deny it if asked. My father is still quietly hoping I’ll change my mind and marry a woman. When the registrar asks if there is any lawful impediment to the marriage taking place, we all better cross our fingers.”
Zed liked Henry’s father. He didn’t really think he was a homophobe. He just liked winding Henry up. Jonas and Henry were getting married in the family castle. Zed had gaped when he’d first seen it. It had battlements and a moat, though when you looked closely, much of it was falling apart. Henry had been to boarding school like Caspian though he seemed to have had a much happier time. Maybe because he’d been a brilliant sportsman, but he said no one had ever picked on him twice.
If it hadn’t been for the nagging worry about Tamaz, Zed had never been happier.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Caspian nudged Henry towards Jonas. “I suggest a long, lingering goodbye.”
Henry pulled Jonas into his arms. “Letting these two organise our stag events was your worst idea ever.”
“Hey, you agreed with me. You said we could trust them better than any of our colleagues.”
“I was a fucking idiot.”
Jonas laughed. “Have fun. See you later.”
Henry turned to Caspian and frowned. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“I know.” Caspian grinned.
The cab was waiting for them and all the way into London, Henry pressed him, threatened him, bribed him to reveal what had been arranged and Caspian refused to budge.
“Good thing you don’t have access to water,” Caspian said.
“Why?”
“Because you’d have resorted to waterboarding. It’s going to be fun. Stop worrying.”
“I’ll stop worrying when I’m in bed tonight with Jonas and we’re both still intact. I bet Zed’s stuck to what Jonas wanted and has cream tea organised at some swanky hotel, and an evening at the theatre.”
“And would you have liked that too?”
“No.”
“Shut up then.”
Henry snorted.
Eight of Henry’s friends and colleagues, including Jackson, were waiting in front of the Brandon Museum. It didn’t look much from the outside, more like a quirky ol
d-fashioned shop than anything else but Caspian had been inside and the place was a Tardis. It went on and on and up and up. And down for that matter.
“Have you been here before?” Caspian crossed his fingers.
“No.”
Henry’s friends clapped him on the back or hugged him and they went into the museum. Kurt Brandon waited inside. He was a stocky, eccentric figure with wild grey hair barely trapped under a black fez and he wore what looked to Caspian like a dressing gown. He guessed it was supposed to be a smoking jacket but the Disney characters all over it said not.
“How wonderful to see you all,” Brandon said. “Welcome to my world of the beautiful, the bizarre and the ugly. There is no organisation, no categorisation, no attempt to educate or explain. There has been no hiding away of a large percentage of discoveries that the public will never see. No neat labelling of drawer after drawer of specimens of the same thing that serves little purpose unless you are an expert in that particular field. Instead, I display in this world of mine everything and anything that has caught my eye over my life and continues to catch my eye. It is all here for your entertainment. Feel free to touch. Don’t break.” He winked—unnervingly—at Caspian. “Embark, explore and enjoy.”
Caspian was instantly captivated by the exhibits and almost forgot to check that Henry was enjoying himself. He went to look for him and found Henry examining a guillotine blade.
“Not for my neck, I hope,” Caspian said.
“Let’s see what the day holds.” He turned the blade in his hands. “I wonder how authentic this is?”
“Very,” Brandon said at his shoulder. “That mark—blood.”
Caspian slipped away again. He wanted to bring Zed here. There were dodo bones, a two-headed monkey in a jar, three lots of mummified genitalia—one of which looked distinctly human, McDonald's Happy Meal toys, a snake skeleton that wrapped around the room twice above their heads, sketches by Da Vinci alongside drawings done by inmates of mental asylums and a fantastic cityscape by an autistic teenager. Everywhere he went, every place he looked, there was something to marvel at.
When the bell rang to alert them it was time for lunch, Caspian had barely seen half of the exhibits. Henry and his friends joined Caspian in the lobby.
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