by H. M. Wolfe
And it felt like home, warmed by Ardan’s presence, lightened by his shy, barely-there smile. Without him, however, it was nothing more than a cold, uncomfortable cave. But Alasdair was hungry and in desperate need of a shower, covered in all kinds of substances as he was. Unlocking the door, the redhead let himself into the room, and there he was.
Ardan. He stood in the middle of the room, completely still, staring at the door as if he’d expected an important answer to come from that direction. At the sight of the redhead, he opened his arms, just like he’d done more than two years earlier when Alasdair had returned to The Base after briefly visiting Leon.
Without losing another moment, Alasdair ran and encircled the man’s waist, drawing him close, inhaling his scent, nuzzling into his neck, fighting hard not to cry. The redhead put his head on the older man’s chest, staying like that, wondering if it wasn’t a dream, expecting any minute to wake up alone in the cold bed.
“I’m dirty; I need to shower,” Ardan barely whispered in the redhead’s ear. “I missed you, Spitfire.”
“I could use a shower too,” Alasdair answered. “What about taking it together? And I missed you. Like crazy.” He clung to the man’s shirt.
“Good idea.” Ardan nodded in approval, undressing himself with little success as his hands shook uncontrollably.
“Here, let me help you.” Alasdair moved closer to his lover, gently peeling the shirt off him. With dexterity, he moved to the man’s jeans, undoing the fly and unzipping them. “That was easy.” The redhead smiled, heading to the bathroom.
“I want you to see me. No more shadows and secrets between us,” Ardan’s low voice stopped him in his tracks. “Come closer.”
Heart thumping against the ribcage, Alasdair came to the edge of the bed, where his lover stood shirtless, all the scars scattering his torso and sides in plain sight. Even though they had become more intimate, the older man was still very conscious about his flawed body, and he didn’t allow the redhead to touch certain areas.
Under the compassionate, caring and affectionate look of his young lover, Ardan started to shiver, and it took a colossal effort for him not to cover his nakedness, run away and hide. He continued to stand there, head up high, emptying his mind of any thought, waiting for the words that would put an end to his dream of love, of a life together with Alasdair.
But the redhead took his hand, guiding him into the bathroom and under the shower. Hot rivulets of water flowed down Ardan’s body, washing away the stench of death, the sweat and the dirt that covered him like a thin film. In the two weeks he’d spent in that horrible place, the man only showered when the smell of sweat and fear became unbearable.
Alasdair took the body wash he used, and squirting a liberal amount on a washcloth, lathered Ardan’s body from head to toe, energetically scrubbing him. Preparing another washcloth, the redhead handed it over to the other man, who, at first, didn’t understand the message. When he finally saw the meaning of the gesture, an incandescent light exploded behind his turquoise eyes, just like when they’d made love for the first time.
He hadn’t forgotten, Ardan smiled. His beautiful, red-haired boy returned the courtesy gesture from two years earlier when he was offered a washcloth for his private parts. That small, insignificant gesture was of huge importance for the man, and Alasdair just confessed his love in the most priceless way.
While the redhead lightly massaged his tense back, Ardan used the cloth to soap his privates, then turned around, wrapping his arms around the boy, sliding his hands up and down his back, stopping right above the perfectly round, tempting globes of his ass. Standing under the shower’s spray, the two kissed each other tentatively, sweetly, but also extremely passionately.
Their fingers laced, arms above their heads, Alasdair and Ardan abandoned themselves, not to the passion but to the tender, gentle touches of each other’s bodies and calling their lover by his name. Disentangling their fingers, hot breath fanning against one another’s skin, the two of them got lost in a hug that brought not only their bodies but also their souls together.
The two finally got out from under the shower and started to dry one another with the huge, fluffy towels Alasdair loved so much. During that ritual, the two men didn’t break eye contact, not even for a moment, the intensity of their feelings and desire reflected into the other one’s gaze.
After putting on comfortable pajamas, they climbed on the bed, sliding under the covers. Without a word, the redhead hugged Ardan from behind, listening to his even breathing, a sure sign he was sleeping peacefully. Alexander was dead, but that didn’t mean all the shadows from his lover’s past had disappeared, too. Alasdair knew that.
He was there for the long run, fighting by the man’s side, helping him to overcome obstacles and vanquish demons. One step at a time, one battle at a time, one demon at a time.
****
“It’ll be my pleasure to gut the fucker and watch his insides spilling.” Ardan lowered his voice dangerously, gritting his teeth. “Just wait until I get my hands on him.”
“Thank you, son.” Alastair slightly bowed his head in the young man’s direction, a paternal smile playing on his lips. “Will you, please, help me welcome this fine young man into our family?” He looked around the table.
All the other men stood, applauding Ardan, who at first lowered his gaze, then raised his head, looking at them. His turquoise eyes reflected all the overwhelming emotions he experienced at that moment: gratitude, humility, joy, satisfaction, happiness and a lot of others he couldn’t identify.
Alastair himself was the first who left his seat, heading straight to where Ardan sat, hugging and kissing him on the top of his head. Sebastian and Joraan imitated the patriarch, with Daniel, Eugene and Mallory following immediately after the two. Soon, the young man disappeared under the sea of arms hugging him, but he didn’t mind at all. Except for the moments when his Spitfire was with him, Ardan had never felt happier.
“I should’ve done this a while ago,” Alastair affectionately looked at his grandson’s lover, “but the circumstances were always adverse. Every time I look in Alasdair’s eyes and see them shining, I know it’s thanks to you. When I see the smallest of smiles playing on his lips, I know he’s thinking about you.”
“I have no words to express my gratitude for the kindness and trust you’ve shown me, for allowing me into your family and for having your blessing to court Spitfire and be with him.”
“You deserve every good thing in life and more.” Rayne gave Ardan another bear hug. “If it wasn’t for you getting Seymour out of that place of pain and despair, he wouldn’t have saved Gerrard and Gabriel’s life and the two of us wouldn’t have ended up together. I owe you a big slice of my happiness and can’t thank you enough for that.”
“I never had a family, not a real one, anyway, after those who were supposed to take care of and protect me sold me like I was an object. But after years of living a lonely existence, just when I thought the course of my life was set, I came across a boy with fiery red hair who needed to be rescued. I had no idea I was going to be the one who was rescued.” A melancholic smile played on Ardan’s lips as he shook Rayne’s hand.
“Time for the two of you to go home. Your men are waiting.” Alastair gently shoved them to the door. “I’ll stay a little longer, then I’ll take my sweet Mallory and follow your example.”
All the way to The Base, Ardan smiled, thinking about what, or rather who was waiting for him to get home, at the look in those wonderful, emerald-green eyes, at those pink lips and pearly-white teeth. Alasdair. The name left a sweet taste on his lips with a tinge of hot and spicy, just like the boy himself. Careful of the road but with his mind full of images of his lover, Ardan returned to The Base in no time.
“I’m home,” he said, letting himself into the little apartment’s living room, only to gasp in awe at the sight before him. Alasdair, Ivar, Erling and Luca were sitting on the couch, cooing at little Carlin, who was chilling in his p
ortable crib. “Hello, handsome. Come to Uncle Ardan.” The man smiled, picking the baby up.
“Mmm, I missed you.” The redhead hugged his lover from behind as he was busy blowing raspberries on the small boy’s tummy. “How was it?”
“Mostly good, although there are still worries that they’re going to attack us.” Ardan let out a long sigh. “Anyway, we are ready to welcome them if they are so foolish and reckless.”
“I’m scared,” Ivar’s voice was shaking when he spoke. “Master told me once that he’d heard that horrible man talking over the phone about a genetically engineered army of perfect soldiers. If it exists...”
“It doesn’t,” Ardan cut the kid short in a somewhat even voice. “Listen, if that had been a real threat, the army he was talking about would have come to his rescue,” the man spoke much softer.
“I hate to interrupt your discussion, but the big boy here needs a bath before going to bed, so we’re leaving you alone.” Luca discreetly gestured to Erling, who took baby Carlin from Ardan’s arms, gently putting him into the crib. “Ivar, your help is needed.” The young Moretti cast the teen a suggestive look, making him blush.
“I’m thankful to Luca for taking the boys and leaving us alone.” Ardan looked in his lover’s eyes, smiling. “I’m tired as a dog. All I want is to take a shower, and then cuddle up with you.”
“Shower and cuddling,” Alasdair echoed the man’s words, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I like the idea,” he purred, locking eyes with Ardan. They smiled at each other, happy.
CHAPTER 18
“Are you sure about this?” Alasdair’s emerald-green eyes were filled with worry as he took in every line and angle of his lover’s face in an attempt to find something in his expression that he could invoke as a reason to stop, to not do what Ardan asked him.
“I was never more sure about anything in my whole life,” the answer came in a whispered, but firm voice. “I want to be with you in every possible way, Spitfire. I want to feel you inside me, filling my body and my heart with love. You would never hurt me, babe. I know it. I trust you with my life.”
Although Ardan’s voice was quiet, the smile on his face spoke volumes, leaving Alasdair no other choice than to fulfil his lover’s wish. Sucking in a deep breath, he parted the man’s legs, coating his index finger with lube and slowly pushing it inside his twitching, puckered hole.
Ardan winced at the intrusion, his breath hitching, and the redhead was about to pull the finger out when he remembered Lothier’s words. After almost twelve years of self-imposed celibacy, his boyfriend was probably tight as a virgin, so he had to work him open with care and gentleness, and so he did.
Soon, Ardan relaxed, especially when Alasdair started to talk to him, pouring love and tenderness into every word he said. Relax, he said to himself. This is not a monster wanting to use you for his sick, twisted, perverted pleasures. It’s your Spitfire. The one you fell in love with when he was a fiery little thing with a temper to beware of.
The changes in Ardan’s body posture and facial expression were the signals Alasdair was waiting for. Pulling out the finger, he added more lube, then inserted it back, adding the second one and speeding up the pace, scissoring the man from time to time. The tactic paid off, and the redhead pulled the fingers out of his lover’s now relaxed, wanting ass, aligning himself at the hole that was already quivering in anticipation.
The sight of Ardan, writhing and whimpering, pleading with his eyes, asking to be filled again made Alasdair rock-hard. Biting his lower lip, the redhead slowly entered his lover, careful not to hurt him but fueled with a passion and desire more intense than anything he’d experienced so far. He showered the older man with light touches and words of love, calling him ‘sweet,’ ‘innocent’ and ‘virgin,’ because, in Alasdair’s eyes, he was exactly like that.
Moving tortuously slow inside of Ardan, his young lover carefully followed the man’s reactions and, when he arched his back, meeting the Spitfire’s thrusts, the young man responded by intensifying the rhythm of the lovemaking. Light caresses poured from the tips of his fingers, setting Ardan’s sweaty skin on fire. Soon, they were both close to the point of no return.
Taking his lover’s throbbing, aching, swollen cock in his hand, Alasdair slowly stroked it at first, then pumped it into oblivion. The older man emitted delicious sounds of pleasure, which became shallower as he was getting closer to his climax. A deep, low moan tore through Alasdair when he shot his load inside of his boyfriend’s tight, tempting ass, followed by Ardan’s victorious cry.
“Thank you, my love,” the redhead planted a butterfly kiss on his smiling boyfriend’s lips, “for giving yourself to me, for trusting and loving me.”
“It was so good and right, and... I don’t know,” Ardan said, his eyes glazed. “It felt like the first time, for a moment. There was nothing of me from that place, just a boy who was making love with his boyfriend.”
“But it was your first time. As a bottom, I mean.” Alasdair flashed him a grin. “What we experienced right now, what we built is the only thing that matters, or should matter. All the rest is just an ugly nightmare that passed, vanished into thin air.”
“For the first time in I don’t know how long, I’m happy, Spitfire. Really happy, and I’m praying for it to last,” Ardan whispered, a dreamy look on his face.
“We’ll be happy forever, my fearless warrior, and I’ll yell at you all day long and snore in your ear at night after draining you of every drop of energy because we’ll make love for hours before collapsing exhausted,” Alasdair purred in his boyfriend’s ear, putting a smile on his face and making his turquoise eyes brighten from the light inside of him.
“That sounds very good.” Ardan captured the redhead’s lips in a passionate, all-consuming kiss. “Especially the part about snoring together after making love for hours,” he continued, breaking the kiss for air, then hungrily attacking his Spitfire’s mouth again.
After kissing and making out some more, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, an expression of pure bliss on their faces. That day marked Alasdair’s last exam, and they had planned to go back to Connecticut the next afternoon for the last two weeks of a well-deserved vacation. Landon and Drew were a great team, The Base thriving with them as temporary leaders in Ardan’s absence.
Besides offering counseling to the kids they saved from different abusive environments, young Luca Moretti also got involved in running The Base, and to everyone’s pleasant surprise, he had both diplomatic and managerial qualities. The don in him became more visible by the day, to his protectors' and former bosses', Eugene and Claudio Brentano, immense satisfaction.
While he was in Connecticut, Ardan had a series of discussions with Daniel and Alastair, the former CIA director asking him to consider becoming a privileged associate of the Dragons’ House. The position, his lover’s grandfather explained, came with a lot of advantages for him and the crew, and that meant more children saved from the clutches of the monsters who exploited or neglected them, so Ardan had accepted on the spot.
Next morning, the man woke to the sound of voices coming from the porch wrapped around all four buildings that formed the main complex. It was unusual for the guards to hang out there so early in the morning, he thought, especially since the problematic trio, as his brother Caleb, Erling and Avery were known, spent the night at The Base.
A pot of freshly brewed coffee in his hand, Ardan stepped out of the little apartment, going out onto the terrace where the guards in that section, who’d just finished the night shift, were forming a circle. In its center, a kid around thirteen or fourteen was telling something in a very vivid voice, making everybody laugh. Discreetly, the man walked closer and closer, reaching the front row.
“... And then, I kicked him in the balls as hard as I could,” the boy continued his story. “I know it wasn’t a nice thing; it must’ve hurt like hell, but the guy was twice my size. There wasn’t much else I could do. Anyway, this fellow was pissed off,
so he started to chase me around, and the girl ran off.”
“What happened then? Did he catch you?” Landon asked softly, but his voice sounded different than the one he used when talking to the other children. It had a certain inflection that was heard only when the man spoke with his boyfriend, Carlin, and Ardan and Alasdair.
“Nope! No way, dude! I won the district’s athletics championship. I was the school’s pride and joy, won so many trophy’s that they didn’t have any more room to display them,” the kid replied, gesturing vividly. “Anyway, after that, I went to Father Donovan and confessed everything, and he asked if I used bad words.”
“And did you?” Ardan flinched at the sound of the voice he knew so well and loved so much. His Spitfire was standing right there, the same emotion in his emerald-green eyes, the brightest smile on his face. He realized, the man thought, his heart jumping with joy.
“No, cursing is bad. Everybody says so.” The kid energetically shook his head. “Anyway, who wants to know? I’m Lorcan. I already told them.”
“I’m Alasdair, and it’s a great pleasure to meet you.” The redhead came closer, extending his hand.
“Likewise. You’re the one who yells a lot at everyone?” The kid took the hand, shaking it. “Caleb told me, he also said you are a great guy. You look... trustworthy.” He smiled, after examining the redhead a little more. “Perhaps you could also help me? All the others scratched their heads when I told them what I want.”
“And what do you want?” Ardan took a step forward, crouching in front of Lorcan, looking in his turquoise eyes, so much like his own.
“To take me to this Alexander fellow. The other guy must be dead by now, and it’s time for me to take his place as... bed warmer? Funny expression if you ask me.”
