Page 27 of After Life
“And no ghost has ever told you,” I said, repeating one of the first things we’d ever seriously discussed when I climbed down off my skeptical soapbox.
He reached for the book to take a closer look at the page. “I suppose I’ll find out when it’s my turn,” he said lightly. “These look terrifying.”
I hesitated, and when Oscar didn’t say anything else, took the hint and moved on from the topic. at least for the moment. “This is allegedly a Wrecker. The author describes them in a way that reminds me of the concept of genius loci with a hint of landvaettir from Nordic mythology.”
“Land spirits... So, the area itself produces a ghost?” Oscar asked, his frown making his brows furrow. “Or is it the spirit of someone who’d lived here and is just very protective of the land?”
“It depends,” I said, stretching my sore leg out. The walking earlier had felt great for a while, but my body was screaming at me now. Every day it looked more and more like I would definitely need to learn how to accommodate this new kind of normal when it came to my mobility and physical endurance. Oscar shifted, dropping to the floor beside me and, before I could stop him, started to gently but firmly massage my thigh. “I know that’s meant to be helpful but it’s really distracting, too...”
Oscar’s smile was small and beatific. “Orgasms are great pain relievers, I hear.”
“Very distracting, though,” I said, my voice shaking just a little. Oscar’s smile grew, his hands sliding up the inside of my thighs to cup the growing bulge of my erection. “I... I suppose we could do with some distraction right now.”
Oscar surged up as I leaned down, meeting me for a kiss. He kept his hands on my thighs, his thumbs moving in slow circles grazing the edge of my cock. “I’m very good at being distracting,” he murmured against my lips. “Got an A level in it and all.”
I smiled back, our kiss turning a little messy as neither of us could stop giggling for no particular reason. “I don’t know what’s so funny,” I said, nipping his lower lip.
“Nothing,” he breathed. “We’re just happy.”
I hummed in agreement, sighing when the tip of his tongue traced the seam of my lips. He made an enthusiastic sound as I opened for him and I reached between us to unfasten my trousers, popping the button while he worked down my zipper.
Oscar’s tongue traced the curve of my cockhead as I leaned back, sighing at the rough, wet drag of fabric against sensitive skin. “Yes,” I hissed. “Just like that.”
He tugged the waistband of my briefs down just enough to expose the seeping head. “For me?” he murmured, and I nodded desperately.
“All of it.”
“Mmm...”
He’d just closed his lips around the tip when Sandra pounded on the door. “Making dinner!” she snapped. “And don’t you dare ruin that couch! It’s original!”
Oscar rocked back onto his heels. “Shit.”
“We can pretend we didn’t hear her,” I offered, already knowing it was no use.
“Tonight,” Oscar promised. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“How about tonight, we both—”
Sandra’s knock came again, this time with the rattle of the doorknob. “Open up, gentlemen!” she ordered. “This is a historic home! This is not appropriate! I will terminate your stay immediately if you’re violating the integrity of the soft furnishings!”
The door popped open before Oscar or I could get to our feet—we were too busy swallowing our urge to laugh like grebes—and Sandra strode in with all the fire and fury of Boudicca descending on the Romans. She stopped short, seeing us fully dressed, and instead shifted her glare to the book open on the table. “You removed it from the library.”
“Yes,” I said, pushing gingerly to my feet. “I wasn’t aware we weren’t allowed to read any of the books in there.” She narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. “It’s unharmed,” I added. “I’m aware of how to handle old books.”
Oscar shifted to stand behind me, clearly using me for a shield. His fingers twisted into the back of my shirt, and I could feel a tremor race through him as he pressed close.
“It’s just some light reading,” I said, shifting to keep myself between the pair of them. I didn’t like the way she was looking at Oscar. I know that sounds ridiculous, but she was staring so hungrily at him, so intently that it made me want to throw a coat over him or something, protect him from that weird look in her eyes.
“We don’t understand most of it,” Oscar said suddenly. “The pictures are interesting, though.”
I opened my mouth to correct him—we might not understand much of it, but we were definitely getting the gist—but the pressure of his foot atop mine stopped me. Admittedly, I felt a warm glow inside at the realization we’d reached the stage in our relationship where we both agreed on who to lie to and about what, all without saying a word about it.
And it also made me a little worried for what that said about us as people but not enough to really dwell on it just then.
Sandra rocked back on her heels, her jaw working as she stared at the book, then shifted her hard glare to me. “I would have thought you would understand what you have there,” she whispered, voice harsh and shaking. “You, of all people!”
“I do understand,” I soothed, but it was lost on her. “Sandra, we were just looking at the book. It won’t happen again.” It would absolutely happen again but next time I’d be more careful.
