Laying a Ghost

by Jane Davitt

  The harsh sound of John’s breathing.

  The slick sound as John’s cock thrust in and out of him.

  The faint smell of the cooking oil.

  “John,” Nick gasped again.

  “Aye, it’s me.” John almost growled the words, his fingers sliding around to the front of Nick’s hips but never going anywhere near his cock. “Me fucking you. Me loving you. It’s always going to be me.”

  Just those words were almost enough to push Nick over the edge ‑‑ as it was, he couldn’t do more than make a sound that was strangled and full of protest as he struggled not to come. John’s cock shoved into him again, hard, and the table Nick was braced against creaked and groaned, sliding half an inch with the force of their fucking. “It’s you,” he managed. “Always you. No one else.”

  It was nearly terrifying how quickly that had become true.

  He thought he heard John say his name, but it was lost in the blur of sensation as John’s hips jerked forward again and again, fucking him with deep, swift strokes that drove away every doubt and concern because there wasn’t room for anything in his head right then but this. John was in him and around him, the heat of his body as reassuring as the solid strength of the hands that were holding Nick in place so that every surge forward sent that perfect, tormenting shiver and spark through him.

  Nick’s breathing rasped in his throat, his lungs working as hard as if he were running at top speed and his palms aching where they were pressed against the edge of the table. His fingertips were tingling and his heart was pounding, and he was, whether he wanted to admit it or not, scared, even though he couldn’t remember why. He couldn’t form a thought. He could only feel and be fucked, too far gone to do more than grunt with each delicious stroke now as he trembled.

  He knew that it couldn’t last much longer, for John at least. Without anything touching his cock but air he wasn’t sure he could come, even though he’d never been so close for so long. There’d never been a reason to wait until John, never been a time when he’d held back to make it last longer, because getting to come had been the whole point.

  Behind him, John cried out, exultant and despairing, and Nick felt his body tense as John came, seeking the release that he himself had almost given up on achieving. John’s hands left Nick and smacked down on the table on either side of him, supporting John’s weight as he fell forward, covering Nick’s body with his own. Nick’s shirt had been pushed up, exposing most of his back, and he felt the beat of John’s racing heart against his skin, matching his own.

  They stayed like that for a long moment, and then John brought his arm across to hug Nick to him, kissing the back of his neck “Oh, you ‑‑” he murmured. “Oh God, Nick ‑‑ Stay there, will you? Please?”

  John eased out of him and pressed another kiss to the back of Nick’s neck before moving away for just long enough to deal with the condom, judging by the sound of it. Nick’s head hung down between his trembling arms and he was panting; harsh gasps as his body tried to override his will and end the torment of wanting. His cock was straining forward, blindly seeking something to rub against, flushed dark with beads of pre-come leaking from it.

  His hand moved to touch it.

  “Don’t you fucking dare,” John said from behind him. “I want that, too.”

  “Then take it,” Nick snarled, some of his control slipping away, although he managed not to move. He shut his eyes tightly, taking deep, ragged breaths as he waited for John to do something, anything. “God, John, please ...”

  John’s hands were on his arms, turning him around, and then one warm hand was sliding up Nick’s inner thigh until he cried out as knuckles rubbed his balls. “Hush, love.” John was murmuring his words against Nick’s mouth. Nick licked at John’s lips, shoving forward until the tip of his cock kissed John’s hip moistly. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Past the point of reason, Nick pressed down on John’s shoulder, and John dropped almost immediately to his knees, opening his mouth as Nick guided the head of his cock inside.

  John’s lips closed around his shaft avidly, sucking hard, with his tongue lapping at the head, swirling over it in greedy, eager swipes.

  Nick slid his hands into John’s hair and pushed forward, watching his cock disappear into John’s mouth and groaning at the sight of it. John glanced up and met his eyes, and he looked ... happy.

  Happy to let Nick fuck his mouth, if that was what Nick wanted to do, and there was nothing Nick wanted more.

  Unfortunately, he’d been holding back long enough that he couldn’t wait ‑‑ four thrusts and Nick was crying out, shuddering, spilling himself over John’s tongue until there was nothing left but a dull weight in his groin and a very strong need not to be standing up. Nick wavered on his feet.

  “Come here before you fall over.” John’s hand came up and encircled his wrist, pulling Nick down to straddle his lap and immediately wrapping his arms around him in a warmly protective hug with his cheek rubbing gently against Nick’s. “Are you all right?” he asked after a moment, when they were both back to breathing rather than gasping for air. “I didn’t hurt you?”

  Nick wriggled a little bit ‑‑ he was sore, but not unpleasantly so. “No. What about you?” He brushed his thumb over the corner of John’s mouth tenderly.

  John’s tongue ran across his lips and he smiled, stroking his hands slowly over Nick’s back. “I’m fine. More than fine.” His smile faded, without dimming the happiness in his eyes. “I love you, Nick. I’ve never had the chance or the reason to say it before, and now that I can I’ll probably say it too often, but I’m telling you anyway.”

  “I’m not sure there’s any such thing as saying it too often.” Nick held John’s face between his hands and kissed him softly. “I love you. More than I thought it was possible to love someone.”

  “It’s not going to be easy.” John kissed him back, matching Nick’s gentleness. “Today people weren’t sure what to think, but tomorrow ‑‑ God, I don’t want to think about that.” He leaned his forehead against Nick’s and sighed. “Let’s get up. And if it won’t hurt your feelings, I think we’d better make a fresh pot of tea. I doubt that one’s drinkable by now.”

  “You’re probably fussier than I am and I still think you’re right.” They managed to get to their feet and Nick started to look around for his pants. “And if the tea’s no good, I’m sure the eggs are totally inedible. You make tea, I’ll make eggs, and then we’ll ...” Picking up his pants, he hesitated. “I guess I shouldn’t assume you want me to spend the night.”

  John gave him a fondly exasperated look as he got dressed. “I’m thinking you don’t need to assume it.” He walked over to Nick and gave him a one-armed hug as he tucked his shirt in. “I always want to be with you, but as it’s not two minutes since I told you why that is, I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “I have to tell you something.” Nick put his arms around John, one hand sliding up to the back of John’s neck and holding on, keeping them both where they were so he didn’t have to see John’s face when he said the words. He hated himself for being such a coward. “It’s why you might not want me to stay.” He didn’t wait for John to reply. “There was another ghost, earlier today. I don’t ... I don’t know for sure, but I think ... I think it was your father.”

  The arms around him tightened, and he felt John take a long, slow breath before he spoke. “My father? You saw ‑‑?” There was a pause, with John standing very still, lost in thought, as if he was replaying what had happened in the kitchen. “Aye. I remember now. You were looking over at the door, weren’t you? And you said something about ‘not now,’ but I thought you were meaning ‑‑”

  John’s arms dropped away and he stepped back so that Nick had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Was it ‑‑ was it very bad?” he asked hoarsely, his eyes dark with pain. “Did he look ‑‑ God, Nick, if I have to see him looking like he did when they took him from the water, I’m not sure I can do it ‑‑�
� He turned on his heel, looking around the room with swift, uneasy glances. “Christ, is he here now? While we were ‑‑? God! Can you see him?” He turned back to Nick and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Tell me if he’s here!”

  Nick jerked himself free and backed away, coming up against the cupboard behind him. “No.” He shook his head. “No, no, he’s not here.” John’s intensity and pain were too much, even though he’d expected them. “I think it was just because your mother was there. Maybe. I don’t know. He didn’t ... he looked fine.”

  John blinked at him. “Fine? He’s a year dead! How can he ‑‑ fuck, this is insane.” He took a shaky breath, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I didn’t mean to shout at you like that.” He gave Nick an apologetic look, although Nick noticed that John made no move to close the gap between them. “It’s just ‑‑ these ghosts you see are people with problems; people who did something awful. My dad ‑‑ he wasn’t like that. He was just ‑‑ normal. Why would he be here still? Are you sure you’re not seeing someone else? If he’d a look of me, it might be a relative from years ago?”

  His voice was pleading now, and it was almost more than Nick could bear to hear.

  “Maybe I’m wrong.” Nick’s wrist ached suddenly and inexplicably, and his head felt like he was the one who’d had too much to drink. He felt a strong urge to walk back to Rossneath, crawl between his sheets, and stay there for the rest of his life.

  Some day John would die.

  “Look, I didn’t ... I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t ... that I wasn’t ...” Nick’s breath shivered. It was always going to be like this. “I’ll go home.”

  “If you do, I’m coming with you.” John’s voice was so soft that Nick could barely hear it. John compressed his lips, looking like someone about to jump out of a plane without a parachute, and then walked up to Nick and held out his hand. “He’s my dad. He shouldn’t be your problem. If he’s like the rest, he’ll stay until you sort it out, whatever it is, and until that’s taken care of, I’m not leaving your side. I can’t always be holding your hand, maybe, but when he comes, you’re to tell me, you understand? And then ‑‑” John’s hand took Nick’s and squeezed it gently. “Then we’ll lay him to rest like he deserves.” John shook his head, his eyes troubled. “You shouldn’t have to do this. I’m sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t have to do this.” Nick didn’t pull his hand away even though part of him wanted to. “You wouldn’t have to, if it weren’t for me.” He knew what John needed to hear. “I’ll tell you. If he ... God, John. Tell me you don’t hate me?”

  “Hate you?” John sounded genuinely puzzled. “If it wasn’t for you, he’d have no one to help him, although I still can’t think what it is that’s troubling him, mind you. If you hadn’t come here, he’d just be waiting and waiting ‑‑” He looked horrified at the thought, and Nick couldn’t blame him. John’s hand came up to cup Nick’s face, caressing it gently. “Leaving aside the fact that I’m as deep in love with you as I can be, I’d have to be one hell of an ungrateful sod to hate you for preventing that.”

  Nick looked into John’s blue eyes, needing more reassurance but not wanting to ask for it. John must have understood, though, because the man pulled him in close, strong arms hugging him tightly, and Nick found himself clinging to John in much the same way John had clung to him earlier. “I love you.” The words stuck in Nick’s throat. “And it scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “It scares me, too,” John admitted. “But I wouldn’t swap it for not loving you, not for a minute.” He threaded his hand through Nick’s hair, tilting his head back and staring at him intently. “Would you? Are you wishing we’d not met? Are you? Can you tell me you love me and still wish that?” John shook his head. “No, of course you can’t,” he whispered, pulling Nick closer and kissing him with a new tenderness.

  Nick relaxed, hearing the conviction in John’s voice. “You know I don’t.” He hugged John gratefully, and they stood like that for a long time, neither of them willing to let go right away. But eventually, Nick stepped back, smiling. “Scrambled eggs, right?”

  As he went to the refrigerator and took out the carton of eggs again he realized that that he felt almost at peace. The gnawing worry that he was used to living with had eased, the sense of being out of control a little less.

  He was ... almost content.

  More importantly, he could imagine a time when he’d be completely content.

  And that was worth almost everything he’d been through.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “It’s flopping! God, it’s ‑‑ do something!”

  John gave the fish squirming in the bottom of the boat a cursory glance. “It’s a reflex action. Pick it up and knock its head against the side, if you like.” One look at Nick’s face told him that hadn’t been the right thing to say. Bending down, John grasped the slippery body of the mackerel and took his own advice.

  Nick shuddered.

  “You’re not going to want to eat it now, are you?” John said resignedly.

  “I don’t know.” Nick gave it a dubious look. “Is it going to have all its parts when eating time rolls around?”

  “Some of them won’t be there.” John debated whether or not going into details would help and settled for patting Nick’s knee reassuringly with the hand he hadn’t used to pick up the fish.

  Which didn’t mean that it was clean, exactly, but it was the best he could do.

  “We’re not catching much worth keeping anyway; want to head back in? You can steer if you like until we get into shore; you need to learn how to handle her.”

  “I don’t see why.” Nick was grinning. “Jeez, I just took up driving a car again last night and now you want me to learn how to drive a boat? Way to put the pressure on.” Still smiling, he moved over to sit beside John on the rear seat.

  “I’ve got every faith in your ability,” John said serenely. “And you couldn’t ask for a nicer day to learn.” He squinted up at the cloudless sky. “You brought the good weather with you, didn’t you? Apart from that first day, it hasn’t rained since you got here.” He started the engine and put Nick’s hand on the tiller. “Hold it, but don’t grab at it. You twist it to make it go faster and the gears are here. Right; off you go; straight ahead and keep an eye out for sharks.”

  Nick gave him a skeptical look.

  John grinned. “Aye, there are. Basking sharks. But I’m mostly teasing you.”

  He waited to make sure that Nick was confident enough with what he was doing and then moved to the middle of the boat, keeping an eye out for anything that would give Nick problems, although there were no rocks or shallows nearby, and there wasn’t another boat in sight.

  Even though he couldn’t really say that Nick had taken to fishing, he seemed to be enjoying being out on the sea, which was the main thing. It was where John spent a lot of his time, and although he didn’t expect Nick to be at his side every minute, the idea that if he went out on his boat, he went alone, wasn’t a comfortable one.

  With the noise of the engine making talking difficult, he lapsed into silence, occasionally glancing back and getting a grin from Nick, who seemed to have succumbed to the exhilaration of skimming over the glass-clear water and had increased his speed to the point where a fine spray of sea water was arcing on either side of the prow, dazzlingly bright in the sun.

  They’d woken early that morning ‑‑ and got up late, the intervening time being taken up with the slow, leisurely lovemaking John thought he could very easily get used to and a lot of talk about absolutely nothing, which had done more to relax John than Nick’s hand teasing him for what felt like hours before he’d finally relented and got John off with five hard, merciless jerks of his wrist, leaving him gasping like that fish.

  Without discussing it, they’d avoided Nick’s house and headed out to sea with the mellow clangor of the church bell fading behind them, replaced by the soulful cries of the gulls and the thrum of the engine.
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  And if they were heading back to deal with everything that they’d deliberately not thought of for the last twelve hours, at least they were going to be dealing with it together. There was a comfort to be had in that, and John felt oddly peaceful as he took over from Nick and brought them safely up to the jetty.

  Stepping out of the boat and finding Michael waiting for them, sitting on a lobster trap with his hands busy unraveling a piece of net, shattered that fragile peace in an instant.

  Nick must have seen something about Michael that John didn’t, or at least that John didn’t want to see just then, because he put a hand on John’s lower back after they’d got out of the boat. “Give him a chance, okay? He’s been your friend for a long time.”

  “He had his chance yesterday.” John stared across at the silently waiting figure. “And I don’t think he wants another. Probably come to tell me to keep my distance from Sheila and the kids or something. In which case, I bloody well will thump him.”

  “Do you want me to give you two some time alone?” Nick asked, hanging back and looking as uncertain as John felt.

  John turned to him and couldn’t help smiling. Nick had the rods and the tackle box in one hand ‑‑ he’d refused to carry the fish, which were still twitching, and John had those in a plastic bag ‑‑ and a smudge of oil on his cheek that made him look years younger somehow. “Aye, maybe. If we get to fighting, I’d as soon you not watch me get beaten to a pulp.” He took the car keys out of his pocket and passed them to Nick. “Here. You go and put all that in the car, will you? I’ll not be long.”

  “Okay.” Nick hesitated, then turned and started up the beach to the right to where the car was parked.

  John sighed and looked at Michael, who stood up and headed toward him, glancing from the ground up to John’s face and back down again in a way that wasn’t like him. Well, that was good, at least ‑‑ it meant the man wasn’t looking for a fight.