Chapter 155 Chapter 156

Chapter 155 Chapter 156
Ravi hummed, rewarding Denis for his honesty by looping his hands around his waist. They sneaked beneath his jacket, nothing but a flimsy shirt in the way. His hands were so big that Ravi’s fingers almost touched when reaching around. The blonde shuddered.
“Do you want to talk about it?” It was the most genuine thing Denis had heard Ravi say all evening. The tall lad wasn’t judging him for crying. He was simply comforting, then offering to help him ease the burden. He was too good for Denis, always had been.
Denis shook his head, hands releasing Ravi’s forearms to settle on his chest. Gods, what were they doing? Didn’t Ravi have some dark-haired model to get home to?
“That’s alright,” Ravi said. “We can talk about something else.” His thumbs were stroking over Denis’s hip bones, hands flexing where they kept him in a firm grip. 
The blonde did not think this was appropriate etiquette, not even for rugby lads, but he didn’t dare point it out. He just soaked, like a flower beneath the sun – he soaked it all in.
“You’re making it big in the world,” Ravi flashed Denis a one-dimpled smile. “I think I read about you being number one in Richest Heirs Under Thirty.”
This he could do, small talk. Denis was practically a champion in the sport. 
“Well,” he ignored the wobble in his voice, powering on. “I heard you spend time with royalty. The crown prince and you are apparently somewhat familiar. Friendly even. When’s the wedding?”
Ravi threw his head back, laughing. Denis did neither fixate on his bobbing Adam's apple, nor on how the sound made him startle, then preen. He’d done that, he’d made Ravi laugh. 
“Eddie is a right arse, but he plays decent rugger.”
It was mad how Ravi had changed, from a young and scrappy scholarship student to spending time with royalty, to wearing Brioni suits. Ravi Baldwin is a household name.
“Eddie, is it? Thought it was Prince Edmund the Second of Windsor.”
Ravi pulled him in with ease, forcing Denis to move his legs as he seated himself on top of hard thighs rather than the cold floor. He spread his legs, feeling the corded muscles move beneath. His fingers curled. He could feel Ravi’s heart beat beneath his right palm.
“A mouthful.” Ravi looked lethal in the dim light of the hall, his mouth curled, his raven hair tousled. “Didn’t know you were supposed to be all ‘Your Highness.’ Once I was informed, I’d already met up with the bloke for a week.”
“It’s rudimentary for any self-respecting Englishman to know how to greet royalty.”
There it was again, in the pit of his eyes – hunger. Denis didn’t quite know what to do with himself. So he played it smart; he did nothing. 
“Guess I’m not a rudimentary Englishman.”
“No,” he sounded breathless. Swooning, his mind chimed in. “Guess you’re not.”
Silence settled like a drawn bowstring, the tension thick enough to cut. Denis was still sniffling, his nose stuffy and eyes hot. His lips popped open, and Ravi’s gaze immediately snapped to his mouth, lingering. 
The blonde trembled as he waited for something to give, for Ravi to rise and say that he needed to go, that it had been good seeing him, but he needed to go. He’d stand, then walk out of Denis’s life as swiftly as he’d walked in. That was the only outcome. It was the only-
Ravi kissed him.
 Denis hadn’t known he’d been dying until Ravi breathed life into him. Five years of decay. Was this how it tasted to be alive? 
His hands fit in Ravi’s hair, tugging at the dark curls, the feel of them the same as all those years ago. Ravi’s hands were busy rucking up his shirt, big hands settling on skin, mapping out his waist, spine, slipping beneath the hem of his trousers. They scorched him, branded his skin like a burning tattoo. With each swipe of his hands, his body answered.
It was natural to open when Ravi’s tongue probed, lips falling apart to let him in without a second thought. The hands pulled him forward, urging him to move his hips in sinuous waves. His stomach coiled tight as he fell into the rhythm of Ravi, feeling him around, inside, demanding and pushing. It was the same as always, Ravi taking and Denis yielding. 
Ravi’s hand came up to grip his neck, the hand anchoring him as he rode the waves. It was the same as all those years ago, but it was also different. The lad had grown – changed – he moved with impossible confidence, an authority you did not question.
Their mouths parted, Ravi’s smile nowhere to be seen as he dragged his lips across Denis’s jawline, nibbling. His hot breath danced across the blonde’s ear. Ravi moved lower, mouth fitting against his throat. His teeth sent electrical impulses down Denis’s spine. The blonde’s hands were spasming in the lad’s raven hair. He was painfully hard, on the verge of submitting to the coursing river. He’d dreamt of this, thought of how it had felt when Ravi had held him close and told him he was sweet, that he was beautiful, that he was his good boy. Denis had jerked himself raw to the memories, had not been able to follow through with sex whenever he’d gone on a date because of it. They would touch him, and he would cringe. 
The men's and women’s hands had been fumbling, their hair the wrong shade of black. Every time, he had walked out of the room, red-faced and aching. Those nights, he’d find himself in bed, taking himself in hand and thinking of Ravi holding him down, moving inside of him, whispering filth in his ear. 
Come for me, you’re mine. 
Yours, Denis would whimper into the empty room before spilling over his hand. He wouldn’t cry, no tears to give. But he’d look at the ceiling, heart weeping.
Compared to reality, the memories had grown dim. The world returned to technicolour as Ravi took him apart. He felt Ravi growing hard beneath him, felt his fingers claw his back, grip his hip bones in a bruising hold. He twisted in the embrace, gripping around the silken hair, fingers scratching over his scalp. If only Ravi could bite harder, leave him with a choker of bruises around his neck. Damned be the court of ravenous vultures, busy ballroom dancing. He just wanted something to remember Ravi by, to look at come morning.