Laying a Ghost

by Jane Davitt

  “Like what?” John murmured without taking his mouth away from Nick’s skin, the words creating half-kisses that were maddeningly light. “You can do anything you want to me, you know that, and if you don’t, I’m telling you now. Suck me, fuck me, have me on my knees for you. Tonight there’s not a chance I’d say no to you.”

  Nick just got harder at the thought. He started to unbutton John’s shirt, wanting to touch skin. “If I can do anything,” he repeated, barely above a whisper, “then I want you upstairs in my bed. I want your mouth on me, I want ... God, John, I just want you. I want you.”

  John stepped back without taking his eyes off Nick, finishing the job Nick’s hands had started and shrugging out of his shirt, taking another step back, and then another, heading towards the doorway, and beyond that, the stairs.

  “Come on, then.” John extended his hand to Nick, his shirt hanging down from his other hand, a splash of light in the dim room. “For God’s sake, come on, because I can’t ‑‑ I can’t ‑‑ Nick.” His voice dropped and caught on a soft groan. “I can’t breathe for wanting you. I can’t bear it, needing you this much.”

  Nick followed like a man in a dream, reaching for John’s hand and, for a moment, more than half convinced that he was nothing more than a ghost, insubstantial. It was almost a shock when his fingers closed around John’s, warm and solid and alive, and Nick couldn’t wait long enough to get upstairs ‑‑ he had to step closer to John and kiss him right then, once and fiercely.

  They stopped twice on the stairs to kiss again, Nick’s shirt joining John’s on the steps, abandoned there as they found their way to the bed and continued to undress each other, hands learning the form of each other’s bodies slowly. When John’s hand brushed against Nick’s bare and hardened cock, making it jump, Nick quivered and bit his own lip. John’s body was perfect, hard and compact, well muscled, his belly flat above the erection that rose up to meet it, and Nick couldn’t keep from touching the smooth skin.

  The sound John made was close to anguished, and his hand rose to capture Nick’s wrist. Nick was expecting John to drag their linked hands down to John’s cock ‑‑ and he was already anticipating the moan he could coax from John then ‑‑ but John shuddered and released him a moment later, rolling to his back and tilting his head to stare at Nick in a wordless invitation, his hands flat at his side. As Nick watched, John’s fingers spread and dug into the covers, but his body remained still; his legs spread slightly, utterly open to Nick’s gaze and touch.

  Nick hadn’t forgotten what John had said before, so he decided to take advantage of that now. Of course, it required knowing what he wanted to do, and that was only a problem because there were so many things he wanted to do to and with the man lying beside him.

  Slowly, Nick slid down between John’s thighs, spreading them wider, and licked a trail up along the skin there. He tongued John’s balls, watching as they tightened and John’s cock twitched in response. “God, I love your body,” Nick murmured, running his hands up and down John’s thighs and feeling the soft, slightly wiry hair crinkle against his palms. He licked John’s shaft all the way to the tip, tasting salt there.

  He felt John’s hand rest lightly against his head for a moment, stroking his hair in encouragement or, he couldn’t help hoping, just because John couldn’t help touching him. John’s hand dropped to his shoulder, with his thumb tracing along Nick’s collar bone before it returned to its original position on the bed.

  “It’s mutual.” John’s hips lifted an inch or two, so that the head of his cock rubbed slowly against Nick’s parted lips. His voice sounded tight, as if he was struggling to keep control, but there was enough humor underlying it to make Nick relax a little. “But I think you can see that for yourself.”

  “I like seeing it.” Nick licked the shaft again and then traced the ridge under the head with his tongue, listening to John’s intake of breath. He slid his index finger into his mouth and sucked on it, wetting it. As he slipped that hand between John’s legs and teased his opening with the slick fingertip, Nick paid attention to John’s reactions, noting the quick rise of hips, and he used that moment to close his lips around the head of John’s cock, sucking and licking avidly as he breathed in the scent of him.

  John made an inarticulate sound and Nick felt the tremor that ran through him before John made what felt like a deliberate effort to relax, his breathing slowing. “You’re entirely too good at this. I’m not sure I can ‑‑ Christ, Nick ‑‑” John’s head fell back and his hand reached up blindly, clutching at Nick’s arm. “Are you going to fuck me, then?” he asked with a directness that was unexpected but not unwelcome. “I want you to. Want you in me, Nick.”

  Nick’s cock throbbed at the thought, and he hitched himself up onto one elbow, meeting John’s eyes as he pushed his finger slowly inside him. John’s eyes closed briefly, his body tightening around Nick in a clench of heat that Nick knew would feel amazing around his cock. “I want to. God, I do. But I’ve never ... I never have.”

  Hearing himself say it out loud made him flush; he was too old to be as inexperienced as he was. He had a sudden, painfully clear memory of Matthew on top of him, fucking him hard, the taste of Matthew’s sweat sharp on his skin.

  John slipped his hand around Nick’s neck and brought his head down, kissing him slowly, sliding his tongue over Nick’s and flickering it against the roof of his mouth. “Aye? But you want to? You want me?” Nick nodded and John smiled. “I can’t see a problem then.”

  Nick would have grinned back at him, but as it turned out he was too busy kissing him hungrily and reaching for the lube. He’d done this part before, and he was so eager that he didn’t feel self-conscious at all as he slicked John up, two fingers pushed deep, fucking him slowly and rubbing over the spot that made John groan and arch beneath him.

  “Like this?” Nick shifted so that he was over John, hand still working between his thighs, mouth still swallowing John’s gasps and cock thrusting against the hot, moist line where John’s leg met his body. “Can we do it like this?” He wanted to be on top, where he could kiss John and watch his face.

  “Any way you like.” John sounded as if he was having trouble fitting words together. “I told you that. I meant it. Yours. I’m yours.” John arched up so that his cock rubbed against Nick’s belly, his face twisting as he sucked in a shaky breath. “Nick ‑‑ please ‑‑”

  “God.” Nick kissed John one last time and forced himself to move away long and far enough to fumble a condom onto his erection, and then, trembling, he lined up and started to press inside.

  The angle was off, and he hadn’t expected it to be so tight ‑‑ it was totally different from a mouth or fist. It almost hurt, and that realization made him wonder if it was hurting John. He looked at John anxiously, then kissed him because it was too hard to look at John and not kiss him, and John was tense but Nick didn’t think it was tense in a bad way. He pressed forward again, shifting so the angle would change, and froze when he slid deep, his mouth open, his eyes wide. “John,” he whispered in awe, as the other man met his gaze.

  “You feel ‑‑” John shook his head and reached out, stroking his hands over Nick’s sides, restless, uncoordinated touches. “Can’t tell you how good you feel in me.” He bit down on his lip as his hands paused and clutched at Nick’s hips, pulling him deeper still. His face looked distant for a moment as if he was exploring his body’s reaction, and then he smiled and his attention was fully on Nick again. “Tell me you’ll be wanting to do this again, love.”

  “Probably eight times a day,” Nick gasped. He was already moving without even needing to think about it, his body knowing exactly what to do, and it felt so incredible that he wondered how he’d gone so many years without it. The heat of John’s body around him, and the way their bodies moved together, thrusting and rubbing ...

  “Nick ‑‑” John lifted his hand and ran it over Nick’s chest. His hand was warm and the callused skin on his fingertips dragged
and caught at Nick’s nipple as he rubbed them over it in a rough caress, drawing a moan from Nick. John’s hand moved down and then dropped to his own cock, wet-tipped and hard, curling around it for an instant, sliding along it and then releasing it as he groaned, his eyes closing as a shudder ran through him. “I don’t want to come ‑‑ not yet. Don’t want this to end ‑‑”

  “Then don’t do that.” Nick shifted his weight onto his good hand and used the other to catch John’s before pinning it to the mattress at head level. He pulled back and thrust forward quickly, and they both groaned. Leaning down, Nick kissed John slowly, propped up on one elbow now so that he could feel John’s erection sliding against his stomach with every thrust. “God, you feel so good,” he murmured against John’s lips.

  He felt John’s wrist flex and tense within his grasp as he pushed inside him, mirroring the shifting pressure around his cock. John was kissing him back, seemingly as content as Nick to draw this out as long as possible, with long, slow thrusts that were starting with a gasp and ending with a whimper as they moved together, finding a rhythm that was gradually increasing in speed no matter how much they tried to hold back.

  The sounds John was making were intoxicating. Nick didn’t think he’d ever done anything to make Matthew sound that lost to pleasure, that needy. John’s gaze was fixed on him, eyes wide and wild, his face showing everything that he was feeling in a way that increased Nick’s arousal just by looking at him.

  “Nick, oh Christ ‑‑”

  John was barely coherent now, his words emerging in between labored, harsh breaths, his chest rising and falling quickly. His free hand was resting against Nick’s ass, running over it in short, swift strokes, with his fingernails scratching lightly at the skin.

  Nick couldn’t help it ‑‑ as much as he wanted to keep doing this, he was moving faster, thrusting into John more roughly. His fingers slid across John’s palm to entwine with John’s fingers, and he was making small, involuntary sounds with each thrust. “John. John.” The knowledge that he was going to come swept over him, unavoidable and joyous. “I can’t ... oh God, yes. Yes.”

  John’s hand clenched hard on his as he came, deep inside John’s body with John’s arm around him, holding him close. The intensity of his climax left him shaken and breathless, staring down at John, unable to look away.

  The hand on his back moved up to the back of his neck, and then John pulled him down and kissed him, pressing his lips against Nick’s half a dozen times, murmuring his name between them. “Nick ‑‑ oh God, lad ‑‑”

  His hand rubbed restlessly against Nick’s neck and his kisses became desperate, his teeth biting at Nick’s lip, his tongue licking over the bitten, swollen flesh a moment later. “Touch me, will you?” he whispered frantically. “I don’t ‑‑ I want it to be your hand on me. Please, Nick, fuck, I can’t wait ‑‑ so damn close ‑‑”

  The flash of guilt lasted only a second before Nick pushed it aside in favor of doing what John had asked. He moved just enough to be able to wrap his hand around John’s gorgeous, flushed cock, the skin hot and silky smooth against his palm as he began to stroke it. John gasped, arching beneath him, and then started to come. He was almost silent as the first jolt of fluid striped his chest and belly, his body tightening around Nick’s sensitive flesh, and it wasn’t until it was over and John had relaxed, going limp as he tried to catch his breath, that he whispered Nick’s name again.

  “I’m right here.” Nick nuzzled John’s jaw. “And I’m not going anywhere. God, how could I? I never want to leave you.”

  There was something very like bewilderment in John’s eyes, as if he was struggling to accept that, but then his face cleared and certainty replaced the confusion. “It’s not been a week yet.” He cupped Nick’s face in his hand. “I can’t say how it’s possible to know this soon, but I’ll not leave you either. This place, yes, if we have to, but not you. Not now.” John brushed his thumb over Nick’s lips and then kissed them. He echoed Nick’s words back to him. “How could I?”

  Nick knew with utter certainty that he wouldn’t be able to bear it if John left that night. “Spend the night here? Please? I want to wake up with you next to me. I need to.” He hoped he didn’t sound as anxious as he felt.

  “I wasn’t planning on going home tonight, and I’m damned if I’m getting up at sunrise either.” John glanced around the room as they moved apart and began to clean up. “I like it here,” he said suddenly. “It feels ... welcoming. Do you feel that, too? Or am I getting fanciful all of a sudden?”

  Nick shook his head as he returned to the bed after throwing away the used condom. “No; I like it, too. It’s weird, though. It feels like too much space for one person. I can imagine my grandmother raising her family here, but it seems too big for me. Maybe it’s just that I can hardly remember living in one place at all, let alone a whole house.”

  “It’s a nice house.” John settled in close beside Nick and put his arm around him. “Solid. My great grandfather built it,” he added, with a note of pride in his voice. “I’m named after him.”

  There was something about the continuity of that which appealed to Nick. Another link, however tenuous, between him and John; another link to a past that he was beginning, slowly, to feel connected to, as if he really did belong here, on this remote island where the sea was all around, in every breath he took, with the ebb and surge of it echoed in the soft, musical voices of the islanders.

  Nick tongued John’s shoulder, licking at the taste of sweat that lingered there. “Did you know him? Your great grandfather?” He ran his hand along John’s side, relishing the ability to touch him without anyone there to disapprove.

  “I can remember him.” John’s breath was warm against Nick’s face. His hand began to trail over Nick’s back, exploring each hollow and curve. “Just. I’d have been six when he died. He was a quiet man. Strong. He’d carry me up high on his shoulder when we were out walking and I got tired, and I was never scared that he’d let me fall, because you couldn’t imagine that happening, somehow.”

  “I would have been scared I’d fall.” Nick thought back to the boy he’d been. “I would have ridden on his shoulders anyway, but I’d have been scared. I always made myself do things that scared me.”

  John pressed a soft kiss against Nick’s throat and then tilted his head, meeting Nick’s gaze. “You still do. It’s one way of dealing with things, and a brave one, but don’t feel you have to do anything with me that you don’t want to.”

  “I won’t. I haven’t.” Nick felt a little puzzled.

  “Fucking me, I mean. If you haven’t before, I’m thinking there was a good reason, but ‑‑” John frowned, his eyes questioning. “You liked it,” he said. “I couldn’t be mistaken about that.”

  “You weren’t,” Nick said reassuringly, his hand stroking over John’s ass. “Of course I liked it. It just wasn’t ... I don’t know, I just never did. Not with Matthew, and then the few other people I’ve been with here and there, I was nervous enough about it being new and different without adding a whole other element of new, you know?”

  John nodded slowly. “I can see that happening with the new people. Not with Matthew, though, but I suppose if you got in the way of it always being him ‑‑” He shrugged, dismissing the subject, and shifted closer, his leg pushing between Nick’s so that their bodies were touching in a dozen places. “Aye, well. Either way suits me fine, in case you were wondering.”

  “Me, too.” Nick grinned and kissed John gently, sucking on his lower lip and closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of them both. He wasn’t sleepy, but he was sated, at least temporarily, and their combined body heat made enough warmth that he was comfortable.

  John made a contented sound, managing to nestle closer still as he returned the kiss. “Come out on the boat with me tomorrow.” He began to cover Nick’s shoulder and what he could reach of Nick’s chest with slow, drowsy kisses. “You’ve been here all this time and never been on the sea. It�
�s not right.”

  He sounded quite serious about it and he finished with a slightly reproving, if still gentle, bite at the skin above Nick’s nipple.

  “Hey.” Nick laughed. “Okay, okay. Tomorrow we’ll go out on the boat, and you can show me how to fish. If you won’t be too frustrated by my complete lack of experience and skill.”

  “Maybe I’ll give you an incentive to be a quick learner.” John bent his head and let the tip of his tongue tease around Nick’s nipple until it was hard enough for him to catch between his teeth. “Let me see now ...” He glanced up at Nick, looking thoughtful. “Right. How’s this then? If you don’t catch something, you have to swim back?”

  It was obvious that he was holding back a grin from the slight quiver of his lips as he pressed them together firmly.

  “I’m a pretty good swimmer, but I can’t say that sounds all that appealing.” Nick reached down and ran his fingers through John’s hair.

  “Hmm.” John turned his head so that Nick’s caressing hand fell across his mouth and kissed the palm, his tongue darting out to flick at it lightly. “Well, I suppose if it’s not appealing, it’s not much of an incentive, is it?”

  “Not really,” Nick agreed, returning his hand to where it was, and twining a lock of John’s hair around his fingers before tugging at it gently. “Try again.”

  John drummed his fingers against Nick’s hip, pretending to be lost in thought. “Fine. If you catch something edible, and seaweed doesn’t count, then we’ll stop fishing and I’ll take you over to one of the islands over to the west ‑‑ there’s three of them, all empty saving a rabbit or two ‑‑ and cook it for you.” John returned his attention to Nick’s chest, seemingly determined to kiss every inch. “And you can have me for dessert.” His thumb made lazy circles in the hollow of Nick’s hip, matched by the ones his tongue was painting across Nick’s skin.