“Come,” S?ren ordered into Kingsley’s ear. Kingsley released hard, so hard he saw light and stars and the sun at night, and if he didn’t stop coming he would die of the never-ending bliss of it all.
Kingsley slumped forward on the seat. He rested on the edge of consciousness, falling back and forth between the darkness and the light. And in that twilight world between life and death, he sensed S?ren’s arms coming around him, S?ren’s mouth caressing his shoulder, S?ren’s hands easing his pants down to his knees…and then he felt cold wet fingers on him and in him. Then S?ren was filling him, holding Kingsley’s slack body back against his chest and moving in and out of him endlessly. And there were words then, beautiful words, but all in Danish, and Kingsley had no idea what S?ren said to him, only that he needed to hear it.
S?ren came inside him, his hands over Kingsley’s hands, their fingers locked together as tightly as their bodies. Kingsley went limp in S?ren’s arms, and they stayed there on the f loor of the Rolls Royce together until they both remembered how to breathe again.
When it was all over and he was weak, drained and too tired to move, S?ren helped him dress. Kingsley must have pleased him, for S?ren allowed him the rare privilege of curling up at his feet and resting his head in his lap for the remainder of their trip back to school. S?ren’s hands shook for thirty minutes afterward. When Kingsley asked him why, S?ren answered, “I didn’t know if I would stop in time.”
“You stopped. I’m fine. More than fine,” Kingsley said, drunk on happiness and contentment.
“I could have killed you.”
“Kill me if you want,” Kingsley said, smiling up at him. “I’d die happy.”
S?ren closed his eyes and laid his hand on top of Kingsley’s head. It felt like a blessing.
“I’m going to do something for you someday.” Kingsley sighed.
“You do everything for me.” S?ren twined his fingers in Kingsley’s hair and tugged it.
“I want to build you a castle.”
S?ren laughed, and Kingsley laughed, although he didn’t know what the joke was.
“I’ve had my fill of castles, Kingsley,” S?ren said. “What I need is a dungeon.”
Sam laughed in Kingsley’s arms.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked, pinching her nose. “So that’s what this is about?” Sam asked. “The club? Your
kingdom? You’re building S?ren the world’s biggest dungeon?” “He’s earned it,” Kingsley said. “His father was as rich as God, and S?ren risked his wrath, risked getting cut off by telling the new wife what sort of monster she’d married. And he didn’t care. I’ve never met anyone like him in my life. I hope I never meet anyone like him again.”
Sam laughed again and wrapped her arm over his chest. She took a ragged breath.
Ragged?
“I remember that day like yesterday. It should be opening night for our club. November thirtieth—we can finish it in time.”
But Sam didn’t seem interested in talking about the club right now.
“You and S?ren fucking in the back of a Rolls Royce.” Sam sighed. “That might be the sexiest story I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“I have better stories,” Kingsley said. “I’ll tell them to you someday.”
“Is it still auto erotic asphyxiation if someone else chokes you, but they do it in the backseat of a car?”
“Whatever you call it, it’s dangerous. That was the last time he choked me. When he married my sister, that put an end to our trysts. She didn’t know about us. But she’s gone now, and I thought when he came here… I hoped, I mean…”
“You hoped you could pick up where you left off?”
“I did. But he’s in love with someone else.”
“Who?”
“A girl at his church.”
“The girl you bribed someone to help?”
“Before you hate him anymore, you should know he hasn’t laid a hand on her.”
“I don’t care if he lays a hand on her as long as he doesn’t ship her off to some kind of reorienting camp, if they get caught together, like that pastor’s wife did to Faith.”