Page 10 of Ride the Whirlwind

When he went down on his lover's chest, the man smiled because he sensed that the skin became a little hotter, which said a lot about how his actions affected Keith. Over the decade since the two of them had been together, the younger man never used his voice to express what he felt, but he didn't need to. The bond he shared with Graeme went so deep that the older man learned to read Keith's body language and act accordingly.

His young lover squeezed his eyes tightly shut, a telltale sign that he was close to the edge; however, Graeme decided to worship his body a little longer, making him feel precious, adored, and wanted. He lightly kissed the pink tips of Keith's nipples and smiled serenely when he saw the bits of flesh becoming pebble-hard.

Graeme continued to kiss the young man's body, licking the tiny beads of sweat that started to break out over the surface of his hot skin and making great efforts to reign in his anger at the sight of the dog bite scars marring Keith's torso and legs. If the goddamn bastard who used the then-small child as bait wouldn't have been already dead...

The quietest, softest of moans brought Graeme back to the sweet reality of his young lover writhing under him, begging to be taken. He's ready, the man thought, retrieving the bottle of lube from between the pillows where Keith always placed it for easy access.

Graeme carefully prepared the young man for the intrusion, coated his cock with lube, and started to push inside his partner, who welcomed him, greedily taking everything his protector was giving to him.

Over the decade since they became intimate, the two men found a rhythm of their own, becoming one in every sense of the word. There was no urgency or savage possession in their lovemaking, only tenderness, soft touches, and sweet words whispered in Keith's ear, making him shiver with pleasure, his turquoise eyes brightening and becoming incandescent.

With every slow, gentle thrust, Graeme's orgasm built up in the pit of his stomach, threatening to erupt like a volcano, while his lover's cock stood tall and proud, begging for attention. The older man took the swollen, hard, twitching member in his hand, used the precum as lubricant, and took care of Keith's need, bringing him closer to the point of no return with each gentle or quick stroke.

They came almost at the same time, another expression of the love they had for one another. Sliding out of him, Graeme pulled Keith, who was still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm, to his chest, cradling him back and forth. Gradually, the young man came down from the post orgasm haze, a bright smile making his turquoise eyes shine as he whispered a thank you from the bottom of his heart.

Gathering all his energy, Graeme went to the bathroom, washed Keith's cum off his abdomen and torso, then returned with a damp washcloth. Gently moving it over his lover's flawless skin, the man removed the evidence of their lovemaking, then tossed the cloth into the hamper. Graeme pulled the blankets over a half-asleep Keith, then protectively wrapped his arms around him, drifting into the land of dreams.

He woke up an hour later completely refreshed; all the worries vanished. Careful not to wake the young man up, he left the bed and stepped out, closing the door behind him. As he headed to his bedroom, Graeme suddenly had the feeling something bad was going to happen, but he shook it off in the end.

However, as soon as opened the door, the man froze in place, eyes glued on the piece of paper at the foot of the bed. He went there and picked it up slowly as if it were a bomb and unfolded it. Camlann will bleed. For a few seconds, Graeme stared in disbelief and shock at the three words, but then, a cold smile appeared on his face.

Whoever played this little game has to learn their place, he thought, stepping out of the bedroom and going into his office. There, he blackened the last word, writing another one on top of it. That's more like it. Graeme nodded, satisfied with the result, then went downstairs and placed the note, which now read Camlann will rule, where everybody could see it.

*************

“Are...are you positively, absolutely sure that my husband is dead? Did you identify his body?” Alasdair inhaled sharply, waiting for the answer. “I see. I'll make all the arrangements to...I'll come to the morgue and take his body so I can offer him a proper burial. Wait...why can't I do that?”

“Good morning, dear boy, how are you?” Fabian Bloom appeared in the living room doorway, a bright smile on his face. “Oh, excuse me,” he murmured when he saw Alasdair was engaged in a heated conversation over the phone.

“How could you bury my husband in a mass grave without talking to me first? I don't give a damn about your rules and protocols. I want to bring my husband home. You haven't heard the last of me,” the redhead shouted into the phone, then ended the call.

“I'm always here if you want to talk,” Fabian said in a warm, paternal voice. “Don't carry that burden alone. You may end up crushed under its weight.”

“Some moron called telling me Ardan...there was a riot, and twenty-one inmates were killed. My beloved husband was one of them,” Alasdair whispered, on the verge of crying. “They buried him in a mass grave, Uncle, and I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to him. My strong, gentle, loving Ardan is no longer among the living, and I can't believe he...”

“I can't believe it, either, and I refuse to until I see the evidence of his death. Nephew, I know you are a man who listens to the brain most of the time, but don't ignore your heart, please. What is it telling you?” Fabian put his hands on Alasdair's shoulders, staring into his emerald eyes.

The redhead blinked a few times, then swallowed hard. “I...I had a dream last night. My Ardan made love to me, slow, sweet, and tender, then he kissed my brows and told me to take care of the kids until he gets better and comes home. My husband is still alive, Uncle. He would have told me if...” Alasdair fell silent, unable to finish the sentence.

“I think the same. The blood of ancient Scottish warriors runs through Ardan's veins; he won't die soon,” Fabian said, his voice filled with paternal affection. “Whoever is behind his incarceration and this twisted, cruel prank wants to weaken us. Most likely, destroying The Base is their main goal, but they don't have any idea who they are messing with.”

“You have a plan, judging by the way you speak.” Alasdair weakly smiled. He checked his watch, gasping in surprise. “I’d better go to the clinic now or else Ross will unleash hell on my poor, tiny ass.”

“I think you should stay at home for a few days. The kids may have a hard time assimilating the news about their father. Tarrin already blames himself for indirectly causing his father's arrest. He could use your company.”

“Thank you for the great advice and support. I don't know what I would have done without you and Papa Lance by my side.” Alasdair put his head on Fabian's shoulder, letting out a small sigh of contentment. “And thanks to all the deities for Ira, Elias, and Abernathy, who made Tarrin forget about the negative thoughts that invaded his mind lately.”

“Indeed.” Fabian gently smiled. “Those four became inseparable. They even share the same bed. You should see these kids once they fall asleep. They form the cutest pile of teens. I talked to Lance, and we should order a larger bed for their room.”

Alasdair nodded, grinning. “You should put that on your top priorities list. The boys grow up so fast! Tarrin and Abernathy, the runts of the group, are no more the skinny little asses from three months ago, not to mention Ira and Elias, who grew up into two fine lads.”

“The small ones, as the other two call them, will turn eighteen before we know it,” Fabian spoke in the same voice from earlier. “Well, time flies, and I have to go to The Base and tell the guys about the most recent news.”

Alasdair nodded in understanding, hugging his uncle once again, then watched the man drive off to the sanctuary Ardan established with his help until the car became a black dot. Going back into the house, the redhead plopped down on an armchair in the living-room, covering his face with both hands.

No, he thought, Uncle Fabian is right. I should listen to my heart, and it is telling me that my Ardan is very much alive. He must have a valid reason for not getting in contact with us yet, but he will come back to us, sooner rather than later. A bright smile played on Alasdair's lips as he imagined how tight his husband would hug him and how sweet the man's kisses would be.

Meanwhile, at The Base, in what was known as the Remembrance Hall, the members of the crew in charge of running the place were examining Fabian's expression. They were trying to guess the reason he’d summoned all of them there so unexpectedly, but the man was as enigmatic as ever. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke.

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