Not a Word

by Dawn Sister

  I take advantage of the break in the proceedings and stand, offering my hand to Zak, which he takes, a look of utter wonder and complete and undying affection in his eyes.

  “B-bed?” I raise my eyebrows in query. He nods and bites his lip.

  “Which one?”

  I remember him asking this not so long ago when I said he could stay, rather than argue about his underhanded way of moving into my home.

  Was he waiting for me to make this suggestion even then? How could I have missed that? Although, admittedly, I was kind of oblivious to all of his hints. It’s only now, looking back, that I realise just how many hints he dropped.

  As he stands, I push myself against him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt to pull him to me. He complies with a huff of delight and surprise, brushing the backs of his fingers across my forehead and cheek.

  “How l-long would you have waited for me t-to catch on?” I ask. He grins and shrugs.

  “I don’t know. Forever maybe? I wasn’t in any hurry, and I knew from the very beginning you always get there in the end.”

  “Well, you know me. I l-like to take my t-time.” I know, from the way his pupils just shot to the size of golf balls, that he gets my double meaning.

  “Oh, I hope so, Niall.” He chuckles. “I certainly hope so.”

  We’re wasting time, though.

  I pull him down into a kiss, and I suddenly know what it’s like to kiss sunshine, as he continues to smile throughout. Somehow I doubt that smile will fade, and it’s amazing that it’s there for me, and because of me.

  Without another word, I take his hand and lead him to my room. I think there are going to be some in-depth discussions of what’s about to happen, but right now, actions speak louder than words. We don’t need to say a word. Not a word.

  The End (or rather The Beginning!)

  Epilogue

  In which I am kind of persuaded

  to get a big ass Christmas Tree

  “Niall, when are we going tree shopping?”

  “T-tree what?” I ask as I regard Zak over the top of my coffee cup.

  We’ve been officially living together for three months now. I say officially living together, because, it’s actually been longer than that, but we were both, apparently, in denial about it. How that looked from the outside must have been quite ridiculous. I mean, how do you not know that you are actually living with someone?

  Zak moved in by stealth, gradually, over a period of a few months, from his mother’s house, so I can’t pinpoint the exact date we actually started living together under the same roof. I still haven’t plucked up the courage to ask Rachel what the hell she thought was going on. Over that period of covert relocation, neither Zak nor I were willing to admit it fully. He denied it every time I asked him and I kind of just went along with that because I didn’t want to rock the boat. He says Rachel knew how we both felt about each other before we did.

  We weren’t sleeping together at the time. I suppose it would have been easier to define our relationship if we had. That would have been a step too far at the time. Zak is twenty years younger than me. No matter how attracted I was to him I just was never sure how far I could push it, so I didn’t. I contented myself with his presence, which was almost constant, and the fact that my dog, Zen, adopted him from the first day he moved next door. Zak, however, had other ideas. Apparently, he was just waiting for me to catch up, but oh boy, when I eventually did…

  Zen barks now and shocks me out of my reminiscing. I look up and see Zak’s deep blue eyes sparkling with amusement as they watch me.

  “Did you hear a word I’ve just said?” he asks with a smirk.

  He’s not annoyed or irritated. He finds my day dreaming cute. He told me once, that was one of the things he fell in love with first, the fact that I think a lot. He says, although I don’t know how true this is, that he can almost hear me thinking. I always did suspect he could read my thoughts. I do often take a long time before I answer questions, not because I want to say the right things but because it takes so much effort to say it at all.

  I stutter rarely now, but sometimes it can still rear its ugly head, usually when I’m upset, or angry or trying too hard to say the right thing. Zak is one of only a few people in my life that waits for me to get my head in gear. How did I not know from the beginning that he was made for me?

  “I was thinking about what you just asked.” I grunt, taking another sip of my coffee. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. I was up late working on a project, so I’m feeling delicate and gritty-eyed this morning. “Y-you want to go shopping for Christmas Trees?”

  His question has thrown me a little. I’ve never been one for too many Christmas decorations. Whilst Christmas, for most people, usually means family and friends and parties and stuff, it never has for me, not for a long time. I have a small fibre-optic tree I put up in the conservatory and some garland lights I string over the fireplace in the living room but that’s about it.

  Before Zak burst onto the scene, I was alone for five years, except for Zen, of course. In the years before that, when I was with Greg, we always had a big fake tree to impress the clients he would invite to our, I mean, his annual Christmas party. He never wanted a real tree. He said it made too much mess. I never really argued. I just went along with whatever he wanted because it was easier than trying to tell him what I wanted. I never wanted the parties either, but again, he never cared what I wanted anyway, so it wouldn’t have done any good trying to tell him that.

  “Niall!” Zak chides. I’m lost in thought again. “What the hell are you thinking about that’s making you frown so deeply?” he presses an index finger into the crease between my eyebrows. “What the hell is there to think about? It’s tree shopping. It’s not a question of if we’re going but when.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start shopping for a tree, Zak,” I eventually manage to admit. “I’ve never had a real tree, before.”

  Zak looks shocked. Devastated, in fact. I don’t think he can quite fathom how I’ve ever celebrated Christmas before now without a real, live tree.

  “What, never?” He gasps. “Like, even when you were a kid?”

  “D-definitely not when I was a kid.” I’m resigned to the fact that my childhood Christmases were not like that of others. “My parents always took me somewhere exotic for Christmas, so we never had any decorations at home. Christmas days were always spent in a hotel somewhere far flung.” There’d usually been trees in the hotels we stayed at, but they’d never been our trees.

  “And what about now?” Zak still seems to be reeling from the fact that I didn’t spend any of my Christmases at home. “Does your mom come over? Do you go to her?”

  Zak has yet to meet my mother. I haven’t been putting it off or anything. My mother and I are just not that close. She knows Zak and I are living together, but I figured I’d spare Zak and Rachel the pain of having to listen to what my mother thinks is just another disappointing life choice.

  “He’s how old?” she’d spluttered when I’d told her the news. It was just after Zak and I had declared our feelings for each other and I was still on cloud nine. “If you’d married and had children when I told you to then by now I could have had grandchildren that age, Niall, really.”

  I’d decided to end the conversation there and then. I hadn’t wanted to hear any more, and I definitely did not want her saying those things in front of Zak or Rachel. My mother would not hold back, I was sure. She wouldn’t care that she might be hurting anyone’s feelings. I haven’t spoken to her since, which isn’t a hardship, because we rarely spoke anyway. I doubt she’s noticed.

  “My mother still goes away for Christmas,” I inform him. “She decided she wanted to keep up the tradition after I moved out to live with Greg. She never saw any reason to stay in this country when she could be somewhere warm, being waited on hand and foot.”

  “Sh-she never stayed, even when you and Greg split up?” Trust Zak to draw straight to that co
nclusion from what I’ve told him.

  It’s true though. Even that first Christmas without Greg, my mother had taken herself off to Trinidad for the entire months of December and January and left me to spend Christmas and New Year alone. I don’t have any other family. Most of the people I’d called friends had actually been Greg’s friends, and my chosen career is conducted in relative isolation, so I have no work colleagues either. I’ve been on my own every Christmas ever since. Except for Zen, obviously.

  “What did you do?” Zak’s voice is a whisper and I see he’s upset now. “You split up with Greg five years ago. Did you spend every Christmas alone?”

  I nod. He definitely reads my thoughts.

  “The first two years I was completely on my own. After that, I got Zen. It wasn’t so bad, though,” I explain. “I was always so busy working right up until Christmas, that spending the holiday alone was actually quite relaxing. I might even go as far as to say that I enjoyed it.”

  I know he finds it difficult to understand how I could have been happy living on my own without much contact with others. He’s so gregarious and I’m just not. How can I make him see I wasn’t unhappy? Because I think he’s actually quite worried, which is sweet, and I love him for it, but unnecessary.

  “I would listen to how others stressed about getting everything organised and how many they were cooking for on Christmas Day and think myself lucky I had only myself to please. I usually do what the hell I want on Christmas Day. I still have a special lunch, because I like cooking, but I spend the entire day in my pyjamas and never even switch on the TV. I even walk Zen in my PJs because there’s never many people around.”

  I don’t suppose Zak will let me do that this year. I’m not all that sure how I feel about it. I’ve already spent Thanksgiving with him and his mum, because they’re from America, and that is a big holiday over there. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with him. He fills my world with light and noise and laughter, but I do need to recharge my batteries every now and then.

  Zak acted like a kid at Thanksgiving. He was so excited to share the holiday with me. It was fun. Rachel and I cooked dinner together. She keeps trying to recruit me for her catering business because apparently I have a magic touch when it comes to seasoning things. I always find it quite funny that she, a professional caterer, would think my unprofessional tinkering with seasonings and flavours would be any good. It was never appreciated by anyone else I know.

  Whenever Greg organised a dinner party he paid caterers. He never thought my cooking was good enough. I am so well rid of him.

  “I swear to god, Niall, if you don’t answer me right now, I am going to go and buy the biggest ass Christmas tree you’ve ever seen and cut a hole in the ceiling to fit it in the house.”

  “I believe you would as well.” I snort. I now have a mental image of Zak dragging the biggest Christmas tree ever up my—our drive.

  Without warning Zak jumps around the breakfast bench and into my lap before I can put up any sort of defence. Not that I need to defend myself from him. Far from it, but he is six foot three and I am five foot nine. Him sitting in my lap is a bit like Buddy the Elf sitting in his elf dad’s lap, without the dad tag, obviously, because…well let’s just get that out of my head right now, because…hmmm!

  “Oh-ho, Niall.” Zak laughs as his arms snake around my shoulders and he wiggles around so that he’s actually straddling my lap. “Someone’s getting excited about shopping for Christmas trees.” He nuzzles my neck and I giggle and squirm.

  Until I met Zak I do not recall ever having giggled, or squirmed, but he just has to push his warm nose against my neck, and breathe hot sighs across my skin and I’m giggling and squirming and gasping.

  After that, everything is a blur. It always is. Even after three months, sex with Zak is exhilarating, energetic and never the same twice in a row.

  “I don’t think we’ve done it in the kitchen yet,” Zak murmurs into my ear, and that’s it. I’m lost. It doesn’t matter that I’m knackered after working long hours over the last two weeks, to finish a project before Christmas. It doesn’t matter that I’m not a morning person—at all. All that matters is just how much his touch can turn me on. It doesn’t even have to be his touch. Just hearing his voice has me in a hot mess, so him on my lap, with his hand dangerously close to fondling my nether regions, has me completely dazed.

  “Zak!” I give a strangled gasp as his hand easily finds its target inside my pyjama pants. “I’ve only j-just got out of b-bed.”

  “And I am so glad, because I need you right now.” His low tone sends shivers up and down my spine. “You were too tired last night.”

  He’s right. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, something that’s happened a lot over the last two weeks. I do feel a little guilty about it. He never complains, he just saves it all up for later.

  “Oh god.” I almost squeak, because his hand just squeezed around my cock.

  “I want you, Niall,” he whispers before covering my mouth with his in a passionate, mind-blowing kiss. “I love you.” He draws back to meet my gaze and I catch my breath.

  That blows my damn mind. I doubt I will ever get used to hearing him say those things. How is it possible that I’ve become the object of such affection and desire? I’m not that sexy, except when he looks at me that way, it’s like he doesn’t see anything else. I’m his only focus, his only thought.

  I can’t speak now. My brain won’t let me. I can’t return the verbal sentiments, because the words get stuck. This is another of those times my stutter rears its head. Zak’s name is the only word I can murmur, gasp or whine, as he climbs off my lap and lifts me onto the kitchen bench.

  “I wanna fuck you right here, Niall,” he growls in my ear. “If you don’t want that, just shake your head.”

  All I can do is give a helpless moan and nod, because why the hell wouldn’t I want him to take me over the kitchen bench?

  “Unless, of course, you wanna fuck me.” Zak’s low tones continue to send signals down my spine to my groin.

  Oh god, this is another aspect of sex I never thought I’d experience. Zak loves to switch. I’d never topped until I met him. He was my first. I’ve discovered I love it, but I think he loves it more. He screamed my name. That was a first too.

  Right now, though, I need him inside me. It just feels so damn good.

  I answer by shoving my tongue into his mouth, wrapping my legs around his hips, pulling him as close as I can.

  “Me on top?” Zak checks. I nod. “Here?” I nod again then think of at least one drawback. We decided to go without condoms a few weeks back, but there is still the matter of lube.

  “L-l-l-l-l…” I grimace. There’s nothing worse than a stutter to turn off the heat.

  “Jesus, you’re so hot.” Zak groans in my ear, completely undeterred—in fact, fired up more by the fact I can’t get my words out. It makes me laugh, and he laughs with me. “Are you saying lube?”

  I nod. This is the one and only time Zak thinks it is acceptable to put words into my mouth. This is the one time I’m very glad he seems to be able to read my mind.

  “I got it covered,” Zak tells me with confidence. “We’re in a kitchen, Niall. There’s plenty of oil.”

  He points out the array of cooking oils that are somehow close at hand. It’s almost as if he planned this and made sure we were positioned within easy reach.

  I gasp, raising my eyebrows in a question as I meet his sparkling gaze. He bites his lip and shrugs.

  “What can I say?” He smiles a little sheepishly. “I missed you over the last few days. I was almost to the point of bursting into your office and clearing your desk, I got so horny. Then, last night, while you were sleeping, I had plenty of time to plan the perfect…nnnngh!”

  He doesn’t finish because I kiss him again. I pull him to me and stop his words with my tongue. Sometimes it’s the only way to stop him talking. I swear he takes one breath in the morning and another at night before he
goes to sleep. He’s like one of those free divers who can hold a lungful of air for fifteen minutes, except he makes a lungful of air last all day. Boy does he talk. I love it. I love this. I love him.

  I try to convey all that love in my kiss. I can say it out loud later, when things aren’t so heated. Zak knows this, and he never expects me to say anything during sex.

  “Niall.” Zak pulls from the kiss a little breathless and flushed. He fumbles with the cord of my pyjama bottoms. I’m not wearing anything else. That, I realise, is probably what has him so horny, although, I never knew my body was that amazing to look at. I’m a little skinny. He happens to love skinny.

  He, on the other hand, is bloody ripped. Jesus. That first time we made love, when he took off his shirt, I almost fainted. I think I might have licked him all over. I could do that now, but I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to get through much foreplay this time around. He’s so bloody hard.

  Pyjama pants are discarded and oil is drizzled with style, over his fingers. Oh god, I hope he hasn’t picked up the garlic oil, or worse, the chilli oil. He’s not the best cook in the world and I remember attempting to explain the difference to him just a few days ago when I caught him trying to cook pancakes in the extra hot chilli oil.

  “Ch-ch-ch…” I moan as a finger presses against my entrance. Zak leans in, between my legs, his breath hot on my ear.

  “It’s okay, I got the extra virgin.” He snorts. Sometimes his sense of humour can be very puerile. I snort too then gasp as his well-oiled fingers press inside me.

  “Zak.” His name is stretched out as a sigh and I don’t know why, but when I say it like that it seems to turn him on even more.

  More oil is drizzled over Zak’s cock and I help, because I love to see the look of pure pleasure on Zak’s face when I touch him.

  I pull him closer, wrapping my legs around his waist as he tips me back, holding me with his strong arms. Slowly he pushes in. Slow because it feels better that way and also because we know from experience it’s over too fast if he doesn’t take his time. For both of us.