The sheltering tree, p.26
The Sheltering Tree, page 26
Alastair hummed, followed suit, then backed Jay up against the fridge.
Oh, God. Jay sucked in a breath. Alastair pressed himself close, raising a shiver across Jay's chest, then nudged playfully beneath Jay's chin to gain access to his neck. As his warm, searching mouth began a feast of Jay's throat, Jay scrunched a hand into his hair and let himself relax, trembling a little. His tattoos suddenly burned to be touched.
"Fuck, I missed you," he thought—then realised he'd said it aloud. He couldn't take it back, even if he wanted to.
Alastair teased aside the collar of Jay's shirt, murmuring his name against his skin.
As the oven timer began to beep again, Jay contemplated tossing all the food out of the window. He tightened his grip on Alastair's shoulders and sighed in protest, not wanting to stop.
Alastair's amused rumble felt more like a purr than a laugh. "I believe that's your garlic bread," he said, flashing his tongue behind Jay's ear.
Jay bit back a gasp. "Tastes better burned."
"Mm?" Alastair said, stealing a nip of Jay's earlobe. "Convenient."
Jay's eyes rolled back into his head. Before he could draw breath to moan, a second timer exploded across the kitchen. The novelty Father Christmas's shrill ringing was much harder to ignore.
"The chicken?" Alastair said, audibly smirking.
"Yeah," Jay groaned. "Probably not as good burned."
Alastair hid one last kiss against Jay's neck and eased back, releasing Jay from his embrace. "Can I help you serve up?"
"Think I can manage," Jay said, breathless. As he gathered up the shards of his thoughts from the floor, he glanced around for something for Alastair to do. "You could take the wine over to the couch, maybe? Get comfy?"
Alastair nodded. He retrieved the bottle and both glasses, and with a last dark-eyed smile, he strolled away towards the sofa.
Jay watched him go, every inch of his body still echoing. Jesus, I'm not going to survive this. He was glad he'd suggested the cosy privacy of a home-cooked meal, not the very public setting of a restaurant. If they ended up eating their dessert in bed, then so be it.
Jay took his time to arrange everything properly on both plates, making sure it all looked nice. Everything had turned out well in the oven, the cheese just starting to brown, the tomatoes juicy but not soggy. It seemed as if the universe was looking out for him, giving this date every sprinkle of luck it could spare. As he portioned out the rice, Jay wondered if Alastair knew this was a date. He'd brought fancy wine as a gift, which seemed like a hopeful sign, and he'd worn nice clothes. Something about a cashmere jumper said 'new boyfriend' to Jay, not 'casual hook-up', and he hoped he wasn't the only one who thought so. Alastair had picked up on Jay's fragrance; he'd noticed how tidy the place was. Surely he realised Jay was pushing the boat out, too.
Surely. Surely you know.
As Jay brought both plates towards the couch, Alastair waited with a pleased look of anticipation. He looked as comfortable and at home on Jay's couch as if he spent most evenings sitting there. For a few giddy moments, Jay let himself imagine what it might be like to do this several nights a week—cooking for Alastair, relaxing together on the sofa after work. Back rubs, candles, conversation.
Please, God. Let me have this.
Jay put the plates down on the coffee table with care, biting his lip.
"I hope it's alright," he said. "If it's crap, there's almond peach galette for afters. If that's crap too, we'll just binge on Milkybar yoghurts. I bought two packs, just in case."
Alastair smiled without comment, patting the vacant cushion beside him. Come here.
Trying to ignore his building nerves, Jay settled down at his side. Alastair's arm went around him, coaxing him closer, and even this felt like they'd done it a thousand times. They fit together to eat like a happily married couple in a film.
Jay gathered his plate from the table into his lap, hoping against hope he'd not overdone the garlic.
"Where did you learn the recipe?" Alastair asked, reaching for a piece of bread.
Jay held his breath.
"My head of marketing gave it to me years ago," he said, watching Alastair scoop up a little of the sauce. "I wrecked it the first time I made it. Massively over-cheesed it. Think I've cracked it now, though."
Alastair lifted the garlic bread to his mouth. He bit down, and time itself seemed to execute an emergency stop. Jay's heart stopped with it. He watched, motionless, as Alastair began to chew.
Alastair's eyes closed. He lifted his fingertips to his mouth.
"Oh, Jesus," Jay said, his stomach plunging through the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Don't eat any more. I'll fetch the Chinese menu. Pretend this never happened."
Alastair stifled a laugh around his mouthful, chewing determinedly, then swallowed.
"You'll do no such thing," he said. "It's wonderful. It's delicious, Jay. Now please relax. I've never felt someone go so tense in all my life."
Jay let out all his breath at once. "Are you sure it's alright? You can tell me if it's awful. I won't mind."
"It's magnificent," Alastair said. He leaned close and kissed Jay firmly between the eyes, his face filled with affection. "It's perfect. You can relax, darling. I promise you."
Darling. Jay's toes curled tight inside his socks. Oh, fuck. Darling.
"I'm glad I brought a decent vintage," Alastair said. "This more than deserves it." He took another bite of garlic bread, reaching for the bottle. "Shall I top you up?"
Jay smiled, happy little bubbles streaming through his veins. "Sure. Thanks, sunshine."
Jay had planned to put a film on with dessert—something classic and soft, maybe funny. In the end, the whole idea slipped his mind. Sitting and talking was too good to interrupt. Long after the dishes were soaking in the sink, he and Alastair remained together on the couch, laughing and kissing as they chatted. On Alastair's request, they had a second portion of dessert. He scraped the bottom of his bowl clean, chasing down every last little speck of peach galette.
The candles soon began to flutter, their flames idling low in deep pools of hot wax.
I don't want you to go, Jay thought, watching Alastair lean over and fill their glasses with the last of the wine. Being together like this felt as natural as anything in the world.
Alastair looked up into Jay's eyes, his pupils dark and soft.
"Thank you for dinner," he said. He put the empty bottle aside on the coffee table, then gathered Jay's socked feet into his lap. "You're an incredible cook, Jay."
Jay grinned, shining with the compliment. "Thanks for coming to look after me," he said, resting his cheek against the back of the sofa. As Alastair's thumbs began to rub slow circles into his arches, his toes flexed on their own. "It meant a lot. I was a mess, and you just..."
"You realise it was an honour, don't you? There's no reason to thank me."
"An honour? Seeing me all sad and pathetic?"
"Seeing you vulnerable." Alastair's smile grew soft, his expression tender as he rubbed Jay's feet. "Besides, I'm still holding you to your debt of reciprocation."
Even the dream of it raised warmth in Jay's chest—being the person Alastair reached for, the one he wanted in a moment of weakness. I'd literally cross oceans to look after you, Jay thought, briefly lost for words as he looked back into Alastair's eyes. I'd fetch you the moon if you needed it. You know I would.
"Just say when," he said. "I'll come running. No matter where you are, I'll be there."
"I look forward to it," Alastair said, as his thumbs found somewhere special near Jay's left heel. A helpless shiver travelled up Jay's back, stretching him out and cutting his breath.
"Ahh—"
"There?"
"Mhm. There."
Alastair peeled off Jay's sock, wrapped both hands around his foot and concentrated on the knot he'd found, watching with pleasure as Jay squirmed.
"Should I be rescuing that wine glass from you?" he asked.
Jay tipped the glass's contents back in one swig, clicked it down on the coffee table and pushed it away.
"Problem solved," he said, fanning his toes.
Chuckling, Alastair continued his work, rubbing his way upwards from Jay's heel. Jay slumped into the cushions and swallowed most of a groan. He let the rest escape him as a sigh, so happy in this moment that he feared he might just melt. Little curls of enjoyment were swirling through his blood, his cheeks flushed with the warmth of candlelight and wine.
"Al," he whispered, closing his eyes. Alastair stripped off his other sock for him, humming. "God, you're..."
"Mm?" Alastair set about giving his other foot the same care and attention, working idle patterns with his thumbs. "More than deserved, for that dessert of yours."
Jay gazed up through his eyelashes, settling his arms behind his head. "I can make other desserts, too."
"Can you now?" Alastair murmured, his eyes flashing.
"Mm hmm."
"My waistline should run screaming, should it?"
Give your waistline here. I'll sort it out. "Everybody needs a vice," Jay said. "It's the people without one you need to worry about. They're the dangerous ones."
"Given that I already smoke and drink wine," Alastair said, "it seems I'm already well-supplied with vice."
"You drink good wine," Jay pointed out. As Alastair began to massage his instep, his back arched up off the couch. "Mnnhh—doesn't count if it's good wine—and I only ever see you smoke when I start one up, so..."
"How interesting," Alastair said, his voice soft and teasing. "In fact, I drink wine, smoke, and eat to excess when I'm with you. If memory serves, we also have an ambitious amount of sex. Apparently you're good at tempting me into things."
Jay grinned, stretching enough to tug the hem of his shirt free from his jeans.
"You never complain," he said. "I inspire you to live life to the fullest. I'm your joie de vivre, keeping you young."
Alastair's smile became a smirk, delight dancing in his eyes. "I think you're overestimating the magnitude of an eight year age gap. You're hardly performing services to the elderly."
Biting the corner of his lip, Jay decided that he dared. "I think you were probably born elderly, weren't you?" he said. It earned him a huff, but no denial. "You're having a lot more fun since me."
Alastair smiled, gliding his fingertips up around Jay's ankle. "I am," he said. "Vices and all. I'm... happy when I'm with you, Jay. A little more myself somehow."
Jay's heart gave a tug. He looked up into Alastair's eyes, wondering if this was the right moment to start the conversation.
"Happy to help," he murmured. He watched Alastair lean down to kiss the narrow strip of bare stomach exposed by the bottom of Jay's shirt. "Must wear you down sometimes, putting on a front at work. Being what everybody needs you to be."
Alastair nodded, nosing beneath the fabric. "Very much," he said. "It's... comforting, being able to put that aside."
Jay smiled a little. "You haven't had many boyfriends over the years, have you?"
Even the word, boyfriend, seemed to cause a tentative shift in the air. Jay couldn't be certain it had happened outside of his imagination, but it lifted Alastair's eyes to his own.
"Hardly any," Alastair said. It looked like it brought him relief to admit it. "I never consciously turned away from relationships. They just... well, dwindled as I rose up the ranks."
Listening, Jay down to stroke Alastair's cheek.
Alastair kissed his palm. "These things take time to establish," he went on. "Time I didn't have. I can't regret the choices that I made. When I made them, I barely even saw them for choices. But you're right. It's... been a lonely journey to success."
Jay nodded quietly, unsurprised to hear it. "Tough at the top?"
"Mm." The edge of Alastair's mouth lifted. "Still," he said. "Only two years of it left."
"Two years of...?"
"Commissioners usually serve no more than five. I'm approaching the end of three. No plans to challenge tradition."
Jay hadn't realised. He blinked, brushing his fingers through Alastair's hair. "Do they really just demote you after five years? Seems harsh."
"No," Alastair said, half-amused. "We normally retire."
"Really?"
"Dropping down after leading the force would be very strange. And the new commissioner won't want a predecessor haunting the hallways, questioning all their changes. It's an expected part of the role."
Jay smiled, wondering why the thought made him happy. He supposed he'd be glad for anyone lucky enough to retire young, good years of life left ahead of them. In Alastair's case, it seemed like it was deserved.
"That'll be great for you," he said. "Taking down the front you've built, I mean. Getting your personal life back."
"I'm planning to keep myself busy, but... well, you're right. A new stage of life." Alastair's eyes brightened, his expression fond as he nuzzled his nose against Jay's stomach. "Thank you for helping me to practice."
Jay grinned. "I'm a glimpse of freedom, am I?"
"You're a glimpse of many things," Alastair said, running his hands up Jay's side. "Would you say that you put on a front?"
"You mean at work?"
"At work. In general."
Jay thought about it, curling his fingers gently at the back of Alastair's neck. There was an obvious answer, one he quietly swept aside. This conversation wasn't about that. "Honestly?" he said at last. "I sort of think we all do."
"Mm?"
"Yeah, I mean... the world's a stage, right? We want everyone else to think the best of us. Want them to know that we're trying, and we're handling things as well as we can."
Alastair seemed almost proud to hear Jay say it, still dotting little kisses on his stomach.
Jay smiled, wondering what about it had pleased him.
"It's life," he went on with a shrug. "Just have to hope you meet someone who fancies what's actually there. Wants what you've got, even when you think you've got nothing."
Alastair took a moment to weigh some risk in silence. "And do you?" he said.
Uncertain, Jay tilted his head.
Alastair clarified, looking up into his eye. "Fancy what's actually there."
If you knew, Jay thought. If you had even the tiniest idea. He paused as the words settled over him, and in their wake a realisation unfolded.
You won't know though, will you? Unless I tell you.
The room seemed to fall still. Even the music seemed to soften, whispering away into quiet, and Jay gazed down into Alastair's face, his throat suddenly dry. He'd felt this way beneath the boughs of the beech tree at Cliveden. In that moment, he'd kept it all in, convinced he'd blow everything apart if he dared to let it out. But this moment didn't feel half as fragile.
Fuck me up. Jay realised this was it, the time to speak. He held his breath. Here goes.
"You make me feel brand new sometimes," he said. "Like I'm a kid again. Like I just want to run around with you and play."
Alastair's eyes sparkled with humour and more than a little understanding. It was enough for Jay to push onwards, overjoyed and terrified at once, so in love he suddenly couldn't cope.
"The first time I ever made you laugh," he said, "sitting there at that dinner in your uniform, I just... I don't know. It lit me up inside. I watched you laugh, and I wanted to see you laugh until you cried."
Alastair listened, now looking at Jay as if the secrets of the universe were written on his face.
Jay went on, begging those perfect eyes to understand.
"First time I saw you naked," he said, "I wanted to make you come so hard you never forgot me as long as you lived. Now I've cooked you something, I want to cook you everything. I want to see you lick the bowl. I just... Jesus, please don't take this wrong. I love that you've poured your life into working for something. It's part of you, and it's your heart, and I can't tell you how much I admire that."
Alastair's eyes began to shine.
"Just don't think that work's all you've got," Jay whispered. Swallowing, he cupped Alastair's face. "Okay? Don't ever think that. Don't worry about retiring. I'll still fancy you like mad."
Alastair's gaze didn't move.
"That will be two years from now," he said.
Jay's entire body braced. This was it. He couldn't stop this coming out. He'd just stepped free from the cliff, and there was nothing he could do but fall, hoping that he landed somewhere soft. All the air shook its way from his lungs.
"Al," he said. His gaze flickered. "Come on."
Alastair said nothing, still searching his face.
"Don't act like you don't know," Jay begged, his cheeks burning in an instant. "Don't tell me it's not obvious I'm..."
Alastair didn't seem to be breathing, watching Jay as if afraid he might explode. "Are you planning to be with me two years from now?"
Fuck. Jay loosened his hands from around Alastair's face, suddenly on the verge of throwing up. I've fucked up. I've—fuck—
"Al," he said. His brain scrabbled wildly for more words. Nothing came. "Al," he whispered, his voice breaking.
Alastair didn't move for a moment, his eyes still fixed on Jay's face. He shifted suddenly, leaning forwards, and Jay had time to drag in half a breath before Alastair's fingers drove through his hair, hauling him up into a kiss.
As Alastair kissed him fiercely, Jay clung to his shoulders and tried to hold on. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Within seconds, he was lying flat against the cushions with Alastair's weight on top of him, pinning him, kissing like they needed each other to live.
Desperate, somewhere close to panic, Jay managed to gasp the words between their mouths.
"It's not just sex," he said. He hadn't planned for it to sound like a plea, but it was too late now. "It's... i-it's more for me. I want us to be something."
Alastair's hands surrounded his jaw. "You are perfect to me," he gasped, holding Jay hard enough to bruise. "Why in God's name didn't you say something?"
