Chapter 158 Chapter 159

Chapter 158 Chapter 159

“Maman.” His voice was hoarse, guttural. He didn’t want to sound turned on in front of his mother, but fate had other ideas. Because he still felt it, the fire inside of him, it wouldn’t peter out until Ravi had fulfilled those dark whispers. 
Shreya looked startled, her eyes wide, her hands fretting about like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. 
“So, this is where you walked off to?”
Ravi watched their interaction, not saying a thing, just keeping his hands on Denis’s skin, pads twitching, as it cost him a great deal to stay put. The notion made the blonde burn brighter. 
“This is Ravi,” he said. “I mean, you met, danced. Yeah.”
Her lips quirked, amused at his less-than-refined response. It wasn’t his fault. He was somewhat cock-hungry and suffering from emotional whiplash. To expect him to be coherent at this time was expecting far too much. 
“The car is just outside, Denis, to indulge this close to the ballroom feels a bit too risqué. I don’t think the gossip mill will talk about much else for the next decade if they catch you and Baldwin… entangled.”
He nodded, listening with half an ear; the other ear was occupied, soaking in the whoosh of Ravi breathing. “Car. Right.”
His Maman smiled, and it was warm and kind, perhaps even approving. The world had turned on its head, pigs had gone flying, governments had been overthrown, because his Maman approved of Ravi. 
“He was the one,” Denis said. “At university. He was the one.”
Her eyes widened because she understood. Aarav had reported to her about Denis seeing a Ravi Krauser, this Krauser now going by Baldwin. She shook her head, the smile kept playing at her lips as she muttered: “Only you, Denis, only you.”
Fussing with a few stray strands and smoothing her dress, she nodded curtly at Ravi, the man hogging her son with eyes that shone with hunger. 
“We’ll have dinner tomorrow at the manor. I expect you to be there.”
“I will.” 
If Denis’s voice had been bad, Ravi’s was worse. It was less human and more animal-like. It made the blonde want to swoon, but he drew the line at literally drooling over lads in front of his Maman. As it was, he’d never hear the end of this. 
She looked satisfied, leaving both of them with a wave, rejoining the party, no doubt armoured with an excuse for his absence. The excuse was probably leaning towards a sudden business call and not getting shagged by the rugby player he paid good money for. 
Huh, it sounded bad when you put it that way.
Ravi rose quickly, pulling Denis along. The blonde’s head spun as he made haste to get his legs underneath. 
“Something about a car,” Ravi said, pushing Denis into the wall, kissing the side of his neck. 
The blonde tried to think, tried to remember where they’d parked. But it was hard to think when he was feeling so good, when Ravi’s tongue moved over the cords of his neck, the lad’s canines nipping with promise. He arched his back, hips moving forward to find friction.
“Christ Denis, car?”
“Somewhere out front, I think. Gods- I don’t know if I can-”
But Ravi was amazing and marvellous because he grabbed that honed stubbornness of his and began marching both of them out. They didn’t enter the ballroom, opting to find their way through the mansion using side corridors. Denis tagged along, dazed and confused as Ravi took the lead, their hands intertwined. Once, a long time ago, Denis had guided a hurt Ravi along the corridors of Harvard to the infirmary in a similar fashion. The memory seemed to belong to another lifetime. 
They broke out the door, and the gravel driveway filled with cars. 
Ravi crowded him, big hands fitting over his hips as if he couldn’t quite help himself. “Which car?” he barked. 
Denis’s half-lidded eyes scanned the driveway, finally finding the Rolls-Royce Phantom. 
“There,” he managed as he twisted in Ravi’s arms, biting his lip to keep from moaning at the feel of rough digits tracing the hem of his slacks. The fingers dipped into them, teasing low on his abdomen. 
“Can’t believe I have to sit still in a fuckin car for gods knows how long,” Ravi muttered as he pulled Denis down the stairs, nodding at the chauffeur opening the door to them. 
Thank god it wasn’t ole Whitman driving them today, but a much younger McGregor. He was about twenty years old and had an interest in racing. Growing up north of Glasgow, he’d needed plenty of sponsorship to go from karting to Formula 4. The Arnolds had stepped in. The deal was: McGregor would help out Whitman, who was nearing retirement, the Arnolds would provide him a car and a deal with the Red Bull Junior Team. If Denis remembered right, Fergus McGregor had done well this season, graduating to F3 next year. 
He seemed like the sort of lad who wouldn’t mind some shenanigans. 
McGregor smirked at them, sending a raised eyebrow Denis’s way as they neared the car. 
“McGregor,” Denis’s voice was somewhat authoritative despite being breathy. “Can we pull up the partition? And music, let's blast some loud music.”
“Aye, got ye, boss.” He did a small salute as both of them fell into the backseat, the door shutting behind. 
McGregor was quick to take his place in front, the dark partition wall sliding up, and God Save the Queen blasting loud enough to fool Denis that they were at a concert. 
The glowing blonde was pulled into Ravi’s lap as the car began moving away from Norcross Mansion. He kissed the rugby lad, finding a home in the curve of Ravi’s lips. He laughed, the sound drowned out by the noise of screeching guitars. Should they perhaps wait until they had arrived back at the hotel? Should talk things through before succumbing to the gravitational force between them.
But as Denis looked into Ravi’s eyes, the green emeralds, the only pair of eyes he ever wanted to drown in, he knew it to be true. Ravi loved him. And Denis loved him back.
He screamed it between kisses, his voice overtaken by drums. Ravi laughed beneath him before shouting it back. Despite the lack of sound, Denis could read it in the shape of his mouth. 
“Yours,” Denis shouted.
“Yours,” Ravi answered.
Mine, they both thought. 
The car kept moving, the moon full and high as it shone its silver light over the north of Scotland. This night was serene, the sort of night where the Milky Way could be spotted with the naked eye; the stars sprayed against the black of space. The breeze was warm, and the waves were lapping. It was a perfect night, a perfect start for two boys to find one another again.
Some love doesn't die. Some love persists, constantly expanding, unbidden, spinning out of control, just like a faulty, yet ever-growing, infinity loop.

End