Chapter 56 ISLAND HOURS
Eli slowly stirred awake, awareness returning in pieces.
First came the low and dull ache, blooming through his thighs and settling in his back like a reminder he couldn’t ignore. Not pain exactly. More like the echo of being fucked so good. Of being held too tightly, too long, and not wanting it to stop. His limbs felt heavy, his body loose in that way that came after exhaustion mixed with warmth.
Then came the smell of butter, toast, and coffee.
He slowly one eye open and found Anton sitting on the edge of the bed, a tray balanced effortlessly in one hand. There was food arranged neatly on the tray: toast, fruit, eggs, a small glass of juice.
He was already dressed, loose linen shirt half-buttoned, hair still damp like he’d just showered. The sight alone made Eli want to sink back into the pillows and disappear.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Anton said lightly. “You look like you fought a war.”
Eli groaned and pulled the sheet up to his chin. “I feel like I lost one.”
Anton chuckled and set the tray down gently. He didn’t crowd Eli or even tease him. He just adjusted the pillow behind Eli’s back with a carefulness that felt intentional. “Eat first. Complain later.”
Eli tried to sit up and failed halfway, hissing under his breath, but immediately tried to laugh it off.
Anton noticed. “Easy,” he murmured, steadying him with a hand at his shoulder. “You don’t get points for pretending you’re fine.”
A second later, Julian was there.
Eli hadn’t heard him enter, but suddenly strong hands were bracing his back, steadying him with practiced ease. Julian looked infuriatingly composed; hair neat, expression unreadable… but his touch lingered longer than necessary, palm warm against Eli’s spine.
“You overdid it,” Julian said flatly, though there was no reprimand in his voice.
Eli shot him a look. “You say that like I was the only one involved, I wasn't fucking myself, you were the one pounding me like I don't have bones. My back hurts now.”
Anton hummed in agreement. “Yeah, unfair accusation, Julian. You were very enthusiastic.”
Julian ignored him and reached for the coffee, testing the temperature before handing it to Eli. “Drink.”
Eli did, fingers brushing Julian’s briefly. The contact sent a small shiver through him that had nothing to do with cold.
“How do you feel?” Julian asked.
Eli hesitated, then shrugged. “Tired. Kinda… sore. But I think my back is broken.”
Julian nodded once, like that confirmed something he already knew. “I was gentle. We’ll take it slower next time.”
Anton snorted. “That was you being gentle?”
Julian ignored him, reaching for the tray. “Eat first. Then we’ll bathe.”
Eli flushed faintly at that phrasing but didn’t argue. He ate while Anton talked about nothing in particular: the weather, how quiet the island was, how the staff knew better than to hover because Julian is a strict boss…
Julian stayed close, occasionally adjusting the pillows behind Eli’s back, handing him napkins, grounding him in small, precise movements. Or so one would think. He's mostly just saying he care without actually saying it.
The bath came after; warm water, steady hands.
Julian handled most of it, efficient but gentle, while Anton lingered nearby, offering towels, cracking a joke when Eli got shy. It felt strange, being cared for like this, with too much attention, too much softness, but Eli didn’t pull away. He let himself be held in it.
Later, dressed in comfortable clothes, they stepped outside.
The island stretched wide and green beyond the villa, paths cut cleanly through palm trees and stone. Somewhere deeper inland, a low crack echoed; sharp, and controlled.
Eli froze for a second. “What was that?”
Julian glanced toward the sound. “Range.”
Anton grinned. “Thought you might like something different. Have you ever fired a gun?”
Eli shook his head immediately. “No. I—should I?”
“You don’t have to,” Julian said at once.
Anton raised a brow. “But if he wants to, he can. Right?”
Eli looked between them, then nodded slowly. “I… I think I want to try.”
They walked together to a small, open-air range carved into stone. Targets were set up at varying distances, paper pinned to frames. The sea glittered behind it all, incongruous and beautiful.
Julian checked the weapon first, methodical. “Rule one,” he said calmly, handing it to Eli carefully, “you don’t point it at anything you don’t intend to hit.”
Anton leaned in close behind Eli, guiding his stance with light touches at his hips and shoulders. “Relax. It’s not going to bite.”
Julian corrected Eli’s grip, fingers precise, firm. “Breathe out before you pull the trigger.”
Eli’s heart pounded. He raised the gun, hands trembling, sight lining up with the center of the target.
Bang.
The recoil startled him. He gasped, lowering it immediately.
Anton laughed, quick and bright. “You hit it!”
Eli blinked. There was a hole!! It's off-center, but it's still a hit.
“I did?” he asked, disbelief bleeding into a shy smile.
Julian nodded. “Again.”
They stayed there longer than Eli expected. Each shot steadied him a little more. Anton kept up a running commentary; teasing when Eli missed, praising him when he didn’t. Julian stayed quieter, but every time Eli did well, there was unmistakable approval and pride in his gaze.
Afterward, they moved to the open lawn closer to the shore. Anton produced a small case and dumped its contents out: playing cards, dice, a battered deck that looked oddly out of place.
“Games,” he declared. “The winner gets to assign a dare.”
Julian sighed. “You’re insufferable.”
“You love it.”
They played on the grass, sun warm on their backs. The dares stayed harmless: making Julian fetch drinks, making Anton admit embarrassing stories, making Eli choose music and force them both to listen. Laughter came easier than Eli expected. He forgot, for a while, about consequences, about choices.
By lunch, they were sprawled at an outdoor table overlooking the water. Food was laid out nicely. Every dish looking too nice to eat.
Julian poured Eli a drink. “Anything you want? I want to gift you something you’d like.” he asked casually.
Eli thought about it…
“I want…” He hesitated, then smiled shyly. “A Christmas tree.”
Both men blinked, genuinely confused on how anyone would want that..
“A what?” Anton asked.
“A Christmas tree,” Eli repeated. “I’ve always wanted one. I see them in stores, in other people’s houses. I’ve never… had one.”
Julian didn’t laugh. He didn’t question it. He simply nodded. “All right.”
Eli’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Anton leaned back, studying Eli with something unreadable and soft. “You ask for simple things.”
Eli shrugged. “It is… big to me. I've been wanting a Christmas tree since childhood.”
Julian reached out, brushing his thumb against Eli’s wrist. “Then it is big. I'll get it for you. Think about something else too. Something expensive.”