Nikolas glanced over to the fur-covered bed and pictured what might have happened there. That Ben had lied about this was unbelievable. Ben always told the truth. So if he had lied, Ben had done so to protect him, to protect his feelings. Nikolas picked up the boxers and pushed them deep into the pocket of his jacket. He was too tired to think what to do for the best. He opened the door and called the others in. It was a horrible place, but it was shelter and would give them time to regroup.
§ § §
The first thing on the agenda was to assess injuries. Emilia had escaped her ordeal relatively unscathed thanks to Ben. Her hair was a little asymmetric, but the fact she now spoke seemed to more than compensate for this. Samuel and Jackson were unharmed. Nikolas couldn’t talk and he was completely exhausted, but these two things he knew would pass. Ben was the one who was the most badly injured. Besides the old leg wound, he now had a gash in his shoulder and bruising all over his body. The shoulder wound was relatively minor and cleaned up well. There was a slight embarrassment all round when Ulyana Ivanovna told him to drop his trousers so she could inspect his leg and, apparently forgetting he was commando, he did. She complained she’d seen a lot worse, and neither Ben nor Nikolas knew quite how to take this. The leg wound was very bad. It was infected and badly swollen. Being bitten by a fetid mouth hadn’t helped things. Ulyana Ivanovna set about, once again, opening it up and cleaning it out. It wasn’t a pleasant job for either of them.
Finally, they had time to stop and just do nothing. It was a luxury. They didn’t have to move or do anything to survive, for they discovered the cabin was a treasure trove for people who’d survived a plane crash with almost nothing. The men from the encampment had lived in squalor, but they’d lived for twenty years in it, and they’d accumulated things. There was a vast store of dried food: meat, fish and wild plants. In one of the outbuildings, they found a beautiful collection of finished furs: sable, lynx, bear. But the best find of all was Emilia’s. She found a map. She showed it to Nikolas and Ben. For the first time, they all understood the vastness of the place in which they’d been unfortunate enough to crash.
They were over two thousand miles from where they’d taken off. The map was covered in handwritten notation, which Nikolas and Ulyana Ivanovna struggled to decipher. They finally concluded the marks were the location of logging camps or other tiny settlements throughout the area. Each of these was annotated with dates, one always a spring date and one in autumn. Ulyana Ivanovna was convinced these dates indicated when the settlements were manned for work. They could only conclude these men had used that knowledge to plan raids. Whether they chose when the camps were empty or when people were there was anyone’s guess. It was vital information for them though. The nearest, Domyn Camp, was downriver. They appeared to have crashed into a lake called Lake Karachay. The river they’d followed was the River Nerva, and it ran through the taiga six hundred and fifty miles from Lake Karachay to Domyn Camp. Domyn Camp was manned until the last week of October. If they stuck to their plan of twenty miles a day, they could make it there while it was still inhabited.
Once more, Ben urged Nikolas to leave him. He now had everything he needed to survive very easily. They could even split the group entirely with Ben and the women remaining behind while Nikolas and the two men went for help. Nikolas was torn. He wanted whatever was best for Ben, and he couldn’t deny this plan was attractive. He could cover a great deal more than twenty miles a day without Ben. Now that he knew the river went to the camp, he was determined to use it to travel whenever he could. He told Ben he’d sleep on the idea. They were all exhausted, and he just wanted to stop thinking for a while. He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling there was something he ought to be considering, but reckoned this was just the after-effect of everything that had happened since the crash. Surely, he could drop his guard now for a few hours; it wouldn’t all come crumbling down around them.
He left the cabin to the women and selected two outhouses, one for himself and Ben, and one for Jackson and Samuel. All they wanted to do was sleep, but even for that, Nikolas wanted Ben to himself for a while.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, they were alone. They made a bed on a stack of furs, which seemed ridiculously luxurious considering the state they were both in. For once in his life, Nikolas took the pragmatic solution: tomorrow. He’d wash and shave and do everything tomorrow. He curled silently around Ben, pressing himself all along Ben’s spine, wrapping his arms around him. He couldn’t talk. It was a blessing and a curse. He had so much he wanted to ask, but perhaps it was fortunate he couldn’t. The wrong thing implied at the wrong time could ruin everything. He just hugged Ben even tighter and kissed lightly over his hair and ear, and down his jaw. Whatever had happened in the cabin between him and the giant, Nikolas knew it hadn’t involved gentle kisses. He eased Ben’s shirt off his shoulder and kissed over his bandage then trailed kisses along the back of his neck, brushing the longish hair away. When he was done, he eased Ben onto his back and stared down at him.
Ben smiled and put his hand lightly around Nikolas’s neck. “I like this silent you. It’s novel.” Nikolas pursed his lips. Ben lifted up and kissed them. Nikolas smiled into the kiss then laid his head down on Ben’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat, strong and solid. He closed his eyes. It was the best sound in the world. Ben’s fingers came into his hair, stroking gently. It seemed like a very long time until Ben murmured, “Nothing happened, Nik. I said it and I meant it.” Nikolas raised his head. Their eyes locked, each reading the other with six years of intimate knowledge. Ben repeated firmly, “Nothing happened.” Slowly, Nikolas reached into his pocket and pulled out the shorts. Ben took them but dropped them meaningfully to the ground. They were irrelevant to a greater truth.
Nikolas ran his finger through the soft fur of the pelt beneath them, watching the brief trail it made in the inky depth before the parting closed back, smooth, whole, perfect once again. He nodded.
Nothing had happened.
§ § §
In the morning, Nik’s hard erection woke Ben by poking him uncomfortably in his stomach.
Ben opened his eyes groggily, feeling very warm and comfortable, and glanced down. It was a beautiful sight. Nikolas was still asleep, sprawled alongside him, one arm over him possessively, one thigh trapping him, and now his cock, seemingly independently joining in with the embrace. Ben’s cock twitched in response.
After that it was rapid and urgent.
After all, nothing had happened.
Ben put a hand down to enjoy himself, and that woke Nikolas.
He still couldn’t speak, which Ben reckoned was something of a blessing. Nothing had happened and that truth couldn’t be challenged.
But they’d never needed words, anyway; their bodies did the talking for them. Nikolas rose over Ben and began to kiss his way down Ben’s chest, around his nipples, heading lower. Ben was working himself leisurely, waiting for the first feel of those lips, and he wasn’t disappointed. Pushing into Nikolas’s mouth was the best sensation he’d had for many, many days. But then he felt incredibly guilty. Nikolas wasn’t in any fit state to have a cock down his poor throat. He pushed Nikolas off and over onto his back.
Nikolas lay sprawled and unusually silent, but his face was a mask, giving nothing away. Ben lifted one of Nikolas’s legs and manoeuvred himself into position between the strong thighs. He opened Nikolas up with a finger, loving the way he arched and bit his lip, the way both their cocks began to leak a little in anticipation.
This was the more unusual thing for them to do.
Ben was usually taking it.
But although nothing had happened, he needed this now.
He needed to top Nikolas.
It only added to the moment that he was taking Nikolas here, in this place, where Nikolas had been so dominant. He wasn’t dominant now. He was stretched out like a woman and being entered, slowly allowing Ben inside his body. Ben drew it out as long as he could, because it was
always one of the best parts, the slow discovery of the warmth and tightness, and the promise of what was to come.
They both needed far more urgent thrusting, so Ben stayed still, eliciting a croaked laugh from Nikolas. If Nik had been able to speak, Ben knew he’d have been cursing Ben and telling him what to do, ordering him in this as in everything else. But he couldn’t, so he was a victim of Ben’s desires, Ben’s will. Ben gave one swift push in, pull out, just finding his way, discovering his target, and he could see by Nikolas’s face he’d found it. He rose up over the powerful chest and kissed Nikolas’s bruised neck, up further and rubbed their stubble together, enjoying the masculine rasp. Nikolas opened his legs wider, clasping Ben around his incredibly muscular backside, urging him on, in, more, harder. He couldn’t beg, but he was, and Ben chuckled, lying lean and smooth upon him, studying him—and then he began to move. He dipped and came up. Nikolas arched and moaned. Ben kept the motion smooth and long then pulled out, relishing the moment when he re-entered. It was better than he’d remembered.
Nikolas was lifting his hips, meeting him with every stroke. It was the most erotic thing Ben had ever seen—Nikolas completely lost to the pleasure of being fucked. He put his hands onto Nikolas’s knees, pushing him open more, exposing him fully. He knelt up, full access now and began to pound. Nikolas cried out, and Ben came. The relief was incredible. It started in the base of his spine and spread, more and more intense, wonderful pleasure as he filled Nikolas. He opened his eyes, caught hold of Nikolas’s cock and with one touch saw Nikolas’s body respond as well, a small shot onto his belly and then great long arcs of white propelled feet away over his own face and hair. Ben kept going for a while longer, milking the last few judders of release, and then he lay down on Nikolas’s spill, kissing his face, licking him, laughing at Nikolas’s expression.
Nikolas got his revenge. He rolled them both, now on top and went down on Ben’s shrinking cock, bringing it to life once more. Ben let him. If Nikolas thought he could take it, despite his injury, who was he to argue? Within a few minutes, Ben came again into Nikolas’s willing mouth. It wasn’t as intense, but it was incredibly satisfying and scratched the tiny itch that needed scratching after his intense first orgasm. Nikolas didn’t stop there either. He inched further down, pressed Ben’s thighs wide and opened him up with his tongue. If he was examining him, checking him over, then that was lost to the licking and gentle touch.
Nothing had happened so there was nothing that needed to be confirmed.
Ben groaned and immediately realised this sound might be misconstrued, so he slid seamlessly into soft murmurs of delight. He knew what he needed. He needed Nikolas inside him.
Nikolas obliged, his cock hardening again as he fed it in. Ben could tell Nik needed to be inside him as well.
Nothing had happened, but Nik was the only one who ever knew what Ben needed, and he found just the spot to make Ben gasp and arch and moan…if there was a pained hiss mixed up in those sounds, well it always hurt Ben to be taken this way at first, so everything was just as it should be.
§ § §
Nikolas couldn’t believe the pleasure of being back inside Ben’s body, of possessing it like this. Other people got to enjoy Ben’s otherworldly external beauty, but only he got to see Ben like this, only he got to make him feel like this. For the first time, Nikolas fully accepted that nothing had happened—for whatever had happened it hadn’t been this—his body moving above Ben Rider, Ben twisting and sweating with delight beneath him. Anything else was nothing because it wasn’t them.
Perhaps Ben had the right idea after all; they should stay forever in a bed somewhere, making love, never separated. He laughed, but it hurt his throat, so he bent down and kissed Ben instead, their tongues meeting and dancing together, talking for them. They both smiled into the kissing, watching each other, knowing and understanding their personal definition of truth.
Ben’s eyes were so intensely green against the dark sable fur the contrast should have been illegal. Ben was entirely too beautiful to be legal, Nikolas decided. He needed to be imprisoned, taken, kept, worshiped. He pressed harder into the kisses, ran his thumb over Ben’s dark stubble, liking the feel, pushed his fingers roughly into the dirty, tangled hair. He was deliberately neglecting his duty down below, making Ben writhe, making him want it deeper and harder as he always did. Nikolas wanted to hear him beg, and he finally got his wish.
Ben moaned softly, grabbed the hard backside working him and forced him on, in, more, harder, rising with each thrust, fucking himself on Nikolas’s hard cock. Suddenly, Nikolas pulled out, dragged Ben over onto his hands and knees and thrust back into the fully exposed and open hole. Ben cried out loudly, Nikolas grunted, a raw painful sound, and they were totally lost to the pleasure, Nikolas having to work hard for this third orgasm for Ben, finding just the place and using it shamelessly. He opened Ben up more, pulling his legs wider, and then he knew he was there. He arched and cried out raggedy as he came shuddering into the heat of Ben, and he knew by a long moan from the bed, Ben was coming, too.
Nikolas milked himself for a long time, squeezing and releasing until he was totally empty. When he was done, he allowed Ben to collapse slowly onto the damp fur. He eased back alongside him, running his fingers up and down Ben’s spine, going lower to just dip into the warm cleft, and then still lower, one finger into the hole to tease and soothe, enjoying the wetness of his own spill, trailing that back up Ben’s body, drawing sticky patterns on the smooth skin. This was the time when Ben usually got some words out of him he always regretted afterward. It didn’t do Ben any good to know he was worshipped and adored. As he’d told the redhead, it was far better for people to be kept in ignorance about how much you loved them. But as he couldn’t tell Ben how he felt, he wrote it instead in his own semen on Ben’s back and then drew a heart. He smiled at his own foolishness then lay back down and pulled Ben into his arms.
He tapped him lightly on the injured thigh, and Ben replied lazily, “Who cares?” He pushed further back against Nikolas and wriggled slightly to get more comfortable and went back to sleep. Nikolas pressed his face into Ben’s hair, thought briefly it desperately needed a wash, and then drifted off himself.
They didn’t wake again until midday. Nikolas tried to remember when he’d woken and been more disgustingly dirty, and concluded perhaps coming around in the mud of the tsunami had been worse (and possibly once or twice in the gulags, but those were memories he was trying to suppress). He ripped them apart where they were stuck together, tried to do something with Ben’s hair, but gave up the attempt. They sat up, just looking at each other wryly. Nikolas helped Ben pull on his trousers and then tugged on his own. Shirtless, they went outside their small hut. An incredibly welcome sight greeted them. During the morning, Ulyana Ivanovna had set three or fours fires to light and over each had suspended vast cooking pots, each now containing boiling water. There was also a washing line strung up with various items of female and male clothing. Samuel and Jackson were sitting in their underwear next to one of the pots, stirring it occasionally. Nikolas grinned and went up to the old woman, croaking ridiculous compliments and then kissing her cheek, which made her laugh. She gave him one of the pots of water; Ben collected the things they needed, and they headed down to the river.
Just as they were about to slide out of their clothes, Emilia ran down from the camp. She shouted to alert them she was coming, a still very unusual sound. She shyly handed Nikolas an old-fashioned, but beautifully preserved and sharpened, cutthroat razor and a shaving brush. “We’ve found so many interesting things. Grandma thought you could use these. And you have to give me your clothes.” She turned her back to them, resolutely facing the opposite direction as they stripped and gave her their things, smiling amusedly at the seriousness of her back. She ran off happily. They waded into the icy water, relishing every tingle of cold. When the worst of the dirt was off, they returned to the shore and used the hot water to lather every inch of skin and hair with
soap and then returned to the river to wash it all off.
Nikolas went first. He sat Ben down on the bank, braced his legs in front of him and began to lather him up for a shave. Ben eyed the razor anxiously. “Have you ever done this before?”
Nikolas shook his head then frowned and nodded slightly, miming cutting someone’s head off. He chuckled at Ben’s expression and laid the first touch of blade to his throat. Ben closed his eyes to the sensation, obviously entirely lost to the feeling of Nikolas’s hands on his face stretching his skin, the sliding blade scraping away the itching stubble, the soft rub of the hot water to take away the soap and then another spot, scraped and felt and massaged. The eroticism of the moment had made Ben’s cock swell and it was now standing proud against his belly. Nikolas stood closer and began to grind his knee on it as he scrapped and shaped and worked on the soft skin of Ben’s face.
Finally, Nikolas was satisfied. He laid the razor down and ran his fingers along the soft beauty he’d created. Then he slicked Ben’s clean, wet hair back and tipped his face up. Keeping Ben’s gaze, he reached down and finished off what his knee had started, strong working of his fingers bringing another release shooting up and falling onto the sandy bank.
§ § §
Ben lay back in the warm afternoon sun, fully satisfied. He stretched and watched Nikolas preparing the razor and brush, admiring his body, wanting him again, picturing him as he’d been last night, stretched and open and waiting for him. Nikolas clearly knew he was being eyed up and what Ben was thinking. He had a slight smirk on his face as he handed Ben the razor, and they swapped places.
Ben had to agree it was very erotic shaving someone else. It explored the trust between them in new ways. He teasingly touched the razor to Nikolas’s throat, which was the most alarming shades of black and green and yellow he’d ever seen. Then he frowned and touched his fingers to it gently instead. It was the first time he’d seen it properly in the daylight.
The Bridge of Silver Wings Page 13
