A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 13

CHAPTER 13: GUILT EDGED PLAYGROUND

© Josh & Sadie Rose 2006

"Okay guys and girls, this is the one you've all been waiting for. No... not the end! * tsk * you know very well what I mean! After the trials and tribulations of C. twelve I was amazed at how easy this chapter was to write. It was kind of like it was meant to be and I was with him for every inch of the ride. Anyway, I hope it's as much fun to read as it was to write! I'll shut up now..." * grin *

THE USUAL TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY. COPYRIGHT MEANS MINE AND LITTY'S! THIS STORY OR ANY PART THEREOF TURNS UP ON ANOTHER SITE WITHOUT MY SAY-SO, MY BIG, NASTY LEGAL PEOPLE WILL COME DOWN THERE PRONTO AND KICK YOUR BUTT-SO!!

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IRISH CREAM:

He woke from a vivid dream, where everything was bathed in a lurid purple light and he was sprawled in a throne-like chair whilst asexual, naked creatures writhed and twisted around him, barely touching him or even looking at him. He could feel and taste their hunger though. It made his head ache and his nerves jangle irritably. For a little while he was lost in a place that looked like some dimly remembered fairground from a childhood holiday long ago.

When he and Skye were small, long before mum and dad separated, they had gone to visit his Gran and Grandad Wilde in Lancashire. His Gran was from Liverpool Irish stock, a large, loud, jovial woman with tight white curls. Dad's father was like an older version of him, his shock of white hair was a little thinner than dad's mad, salt and pepper barnet but he had the same narrow features and intense blue eyes. Grandad had moved down to the south looking for work when his sons were in their late teens but never settled there. Rayne's dad Jimmy and his brothers found work in Kent and Essex but Gran and Grandad moved back up to Wigan and had lived there ever since.

They took their grandchildren to Blackpool for the day and Rayne still had vivid memories of the noise and colour. Everything seemed too big and too loud after the sleepy seaside gentility of Dymchurch. He clutched at Mum's hand as they explored the Golden Mile and the Pleasure Beach, screaming along with her on the larger faster rides; rollercoasters that ripped out his stomach and stuffed it down his throat so that he could barely breathe, yet left him howling for more once they got off. They rode rockets that flew so high he could see the shimmering sea and the rooftops of the houses all around them. Mum had loved the River Caves, sliding almost silently through the darkness on a boat that carried them from one lurid vision to another. The water was a blue so vivid that he asked did it have toilet cleaner in it and made everyone laugh, but privately he found the illuminated scenes in each of the caves disturbing and inexplicable. Huge faces loomed out of the darkness and sounds boomed from hidden speakers, making him jump at every turn. He was petrified that that juddering boat would stick in one of the tunnels and they would have to get out and make their escape on foot wading through murky water that might have any kind of monster lurking in it.

In his dream he stumbled through Plexiglas caverns that dripped with glowing, turquoise wetness; hearing the loud, forced joviality of adult laughter as he was captured and hauled into one of the caverns. Mere feet from the gilded pleasure boats that glided silently through the empty caves of his nightmare, he was dragged struggling from the shadows and forced to his knees in the eerie light. The passengers ignored his screams as he was stripped and raped in plain sight before them. He could hear Uncle Brian's coarse laughter as he asked if anyone else wanted a turn.

The heat of another man's body was very real against his own. He felt powerful arms wrap themselves more tightly around him and lashed out violently with a little yelp of protest.

"No!" He screamed the word aloud and tried to twist himself into a knot to escape his captor. "Stop it! Please! No! NO!! I don't want to!!"

"It's all right," a warm, familiar voice breathed the words into his ear and the caverns melted away like spun sugar in the rain. "It's okay, Rayne. It's just a dream."

He could feel the tears in the back of his throat, hot and salty, as many tears as it took to fill a pint pot. The effort of swallowing them was just too much and he curled up miserably into the pillows, burying his face in the soft linen as they poured out of him; crying until it physically hurt to cry any more.

"It's okay," Paddy said, over and over, stroking his hair and his face with a gentle hand. "Sssshhhhhh.... It's okay. It's through now."

Rayne kept his eyes closed until he knew that he would not burst into tears again. He was conscious of the ache in his back and the stretched, gaping sensation between his legs that only reminded him of the wanton things he had done with Aldo and Barclay earlier. That in turn recalled Aldo's words to him before they made out.

'Let's get you stretched and ready for him.'

He kicked and pushed his way clear of Paddy's embrace now, huffing with shock as he reached the farthest corner of the mattress. Only then did he stop and face the Irishman, once he was sure that PJ Mc Namara was not going to pounce on him and pull him back down onto the bed. They were in yet another room, this one fitted with polished, dark wood and pale wall hangings. The bed was made with crisp, clean, cream-coloured linen. It smelled good and felt good under his hands and knees.

"Don't touch me," he warned tremulously.

"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?" Paddy was watching him with a slightly bemused expression on his handsome face. He was nude; only his lower legs covered by the rumpled sheet as he lay on his side, his face cupped in one hand, the other draped across his exposed hip. To Rayne's surprise he was not hard. His cock lay at ease against his lower thigh, smooth and dry; the skin as supple as folded silk. "Clay told me what you did this afternoon. Did you tell 'them' to stop? Did you beg them to stop fucking you, Rayne?"

He swallowed hard as some of the blood rushed back to his cheeks. As he dimly recalled he had begged for the exact opposite, as he was sure now that Clay and Aldo had already gleefully related to their boss. Rayne closed his eyes again, feeling like such a fool. Paddy probably thought he was a complete slut. And he would be right about that!

Weakly he shook his head.

To his surprise, Paddy did not jump on that right away. Instead he asked; "What were you dreaming about?"

Rayne swallowed and thought on his feet.

"I dunno, it was all mixed up. There was a fair and a water ride. I can't remember it now."

"You were freaking out. I thought you were trying to get away from me at first but then I realised that you were still asleep," the other man told him with a little smile. "That was some nightmare. I thought someone was trying to kill you."

"I can't... I dunno..." Rayne muttered, looking away before the fear showed up in his eyes again. He did not want to think of Brian; not here.

"I didn't think you were scared of me," Paddy said quietly. "I thought you were up for it. Was I wrong, Rayne? Did they hurt you this afternoon?"

He felt his heart quicken and for a moment it hurt to breathe. How could he even begin to tell this man what he felt? That he wasn't scared of the sex, just of the way that Paddy McNamara made him feel! It was too stupid for words. Paddy would laugh at him. Men like McNamara did not fall hopelessly in love with nobodies like him. He bit his lip and shook his head.

"I'm not scared. You just... I was dreaming, that's all. I thought you were someone else."

Paddy sat up then and leaned forward so that the covers fell away from his tanned, powerful body.

"Can I touch you now?" he asked and Rayne looked up at him in surprise.

It still seemed odd to him that someone like McNamara would ask for permission as if he was a society virgin in a nineteenth century period novel. The smile flickered across his lips like a brief flash of sunlight seen through the clouds and then gone again.

"There's no law against it."

A big hand reached out for him and cupped his face, stroking his cheek and his hair gently, touching his lips and his eyelids with a contact light as gossamer. He shivered involuntarily.

"Are you all right?" Paddy asked him.

Rayne nodded his head just the one time.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He had to clear his throat twice before the words would come out.

"N-no. That's... it's okay."

The Irishman smiled at him now.

"You 'are' beautiful," he said, in a low, husky tone that made Rayne shiver again. "I sure hope Barclay remembered to set the cameras running before he tooled you this afternoon!"

Rayne's teeth came together with an audible click. He pulled away automatically, an incendiary glare on his face.

"You... you're just as bad as Leland!" he spluttered furiously, almost tumbling off the bed in his haste to put distance back between them. "You pretend to be nice as pie with me then you play a trick like that!"

Paddy was laughing and shaking his head though, visibly amused by the reaction.

"Now that's more like the Rayne I know!" he declared good-humouredly. "It was just a joke, baby. I was teasing you. I'm sorry."

"Some joke!" Rayne scowled at him, eyes narrowed. "It wasn't very funny."

"You scare me when you pull away inside yourself like you did just then," Paddy told him tenderly. "I worry about you."

Rayne's eyebrows twitched upward at that.

"You don't have to," he said defensively, at last.

"I know, but I can't help it," the bigger man answered him with another little smile, slightly apologetic this time. "Sometimes you're tough as nails but others you seem so fragile that I just wanna look after you."

"I don't need anybody to look after me," Rayne flashed back at once. His expression was suspicious again. "I can look after myself."

"Christophe didn't seem to think so," the big man reminded him archly. "He seemed to believe that he could do as he liked with you. Or was that what 'you' wanted?"

Rayne felt his face heat up again at the reminder of his experience at the hands of the Frenchman and his friends. It was bad enough that he had let his guard down so far that such a thing could be done to him but to have Paddy and the others witness his humiliation as well was more than embarrassing. He had wanted the earth to swallow him up.

"Yeah!" he said vehemently and turned away grinding his teeth irritably.

"So you want me to hog tie you and stick a dildo up your sweet ass before I take you, huh?" Paddy leaned back in the nest of pillows and folded his arms. Rayne did not have to look round to know that he had a smile on his face.

He was too clever by half, this fucking Paddy!

"Try it and I'll castrate you with my teeth," the boy warned him.

"There's no shame in being vulnerable," his companion told him quietly now. "We all go there at some time in our lives."

Rayne shook his head at that and turned back rather reluctantly to face the Irishman. He doubted very much that this muscled up freak had ever been vulnerable. Time to nip this particular line of inquiry in the bud, he thought.

"What were you arguing with Leland about this afternoon?"

"Tell you what," Paddy said sweetly, unswayed by his diversionary tactics. "You tell me what you were dreaming about and I'll spill the beans on Leland."

"I told you, I can't remember. It was a dream, it's gone now." He stared defiantly at the older man. "Why were you gone so long? We didn't get to film this afternoon."

"Did that upset you, baby?" McNamara grinned at him wickedly. "Were you actually hoping for my big cock in your ass today?"

"In your dreams!" Rayne said with a shake of his head. "I thought you were pissed off because they were wasting time, then you waste all afternoon arguing with him."

"I don't like it when people fuck me about," Paddy said rather more coolly. "And he's been fucking me around for far too long. Mikka told me you hadn't read the treatment, 'and' he told me that it wasn't your fault either."

Rayne blinked at him, privately astounded.

"You were mad at him because of me?"

"Why not?" P J McNamara was watching his reaction with one of those clever, guarded little smiles. He unfolded his arms and snuggled down into the pillows more comfortably now. "It put you off your mark and that never looks good on the camera. If you weren't so fucking good at what you do, I'd have said that could be enough to screw up an entire morning's shooting, and that would have really pissed me off!"

"Yeah?" Rayne was looking at him speculatively. He had never seen Paddy lose his temper but he imagined that it could well be a formidable sight. "I though you were mad at me," he added finally, with a little sigh.

"You weren't concentrating towards the end, don't think I didn't notice," Paddy remarked sternly. "But given the circumstances I'm prepared to let that go just this once. I guess we can film the close-ups again sometime."

"I know you'll enjoy that," Rayne said sarcastically.

"I thought you enjoyed your work too," Paddy told him crooking a finger in his direction. "C'mere."

"Why?" Rayne stayed put for the time being on the very edge of the huge bed.

"Because I want you to," McNamara answered. "And because you get a reward if you're a good boy. You wouldn't want to miss out on a reward, would you?"

"Conniving bastard," Rayne said with quiet conviction.

For a little while the Irishman just looked back at him with a twinkle in his steely blue eyes that promised he was up to no good. Then he leaned forward and closed his fingers around one of Rayne's wrists drawing him firmly back across the bed, protesting wildly, until he tumbled forward into the bigger man's lap with a little squeak of indignation.

"That's better," Paddy said at once, letting go of his arm and stroking his hair affectionately. He snuggled down a little further, getting underneath the boy and running his hands suggestively up and down Rayne's naked back, then pulling him closer until their noses were almost touching. "Much better," he breathed quietly.

Rayne could feel his steady heartbeat, lying sprawled on top of the other man like this. It was a quiet rhythm that pulsed between them; a mesmerising, intimate thing. He was sure that Paddy could feel his own pulse, running like a flock of startled sheep in his chest. He had stopped fighting once the Irishman had him where he wanted him. There was no point in it really. Now he rested his hands in the pillows to either side of the other man's head and braced himself there, staring down at his captor and trying to look serious.

"Is it?"

"Don't you think so?" Paddy winked at him. "Much more comfortable, yes? A whole lot nicer, I think."

"You're just as bad as Leland," Rayne reminded him. "Just a dirty old man, aren't you?"

"Less of the old, thank you! I'm only forty two," McNamara said with a shake of his head.

"Nearly as old as my dad," Rayne Wilde grinned at him fiercely.

"Cheeky little bitch, aren't you?" his companion retorted, running his hands down over the boy's buttocks and thighs, spreading him a little wider. "Does you father like to ride you hard, though?"

"That is such a disgusting thought I might just be sick on you!" the youngster declared, pulling a horrified face.

Paddy's hands moved slowly back up to his shoulders again, but he did not adjust his position astride the older man. Instead he pillowed his cheek against Paddy's shoulder and let his arms creep around the fellow's neck. In contemplative silence, the Irishman stroked his back and let his fingers run steadily down between Rayne's thighs, tickling and teasing him until he was squirming restlessly in the big fellow's arms.

"Is that good?" Paddy rumbled quietly in his ear.

"Mm-hmmm," Rayne responded in the affirmative, nuzzling his neck comfortably. It did feel nice and curiously enough he was quite relaxed. After the nightmares of this morning he had not believed that he could be this close to Paddy and feel so calm. He was getting hard against the Irishman's firm, sculpted belly and adjusted himself a little to let his sex rise between them. Only as he eased back down again did he feel the rub of his partner's own rising erection between his legs.

"Christ!" he exhaled softly, feeling his heartbeat quicken again in response. "It's like straddling a man's arm!"

Paddy's fingers moved slowly up his back to the nape of his neck, towing him down again firmly and gently until their lips touched. Rayne pulled himself closer, letting his mouth press against Paddy's until they were kissing instinctively, moving together in a silent synchronicity that was guided purely by need. His hands roamed through Paddy's thick, dark-red hair as his lips surged wetly against the Irishman's mouth and their tongues clashed and sparred like independent creatures in the cavern between their parted jaws. His mate's hands prowled over his body relentlessly, stoking and soothing his passions as they writhed against one another on the bed. Rayne could not believe that he could still feel so horny after the things he had done this afternoon with Aldo and Clay. It was insane. He had never felt this way for another man in his life. He was not gay, for god's sake! This was incredible though.

"Ohhhh boy, you're good at that!" Paddy sighed breathlessly as their lips briefly parted, then came together again, moving softly against each other. Rayne caught the Irishman's upper lip between his own, towing gently on it, turning his head so that the tilted tip of his nose rubbed against Paddy's somewhat skewed prow. He could not deny it. Just lying here, kissing him felt better than anything he had ever known. With Angelica there was only lust. He had never been in love with her, nor she with him, but the fucking was incredible. Even with Skye it had never been this good. He could never be with her without a creeping sense of guilt. It was always fabulous sex, and he loved his sister more than anyone else alive, but he was plagued by the sheer 'wrongness' of it every time they were alone together.

Paddy McNamara had not even entered him yet and he was on fire. No man had ever made him burn like this, as if his whole body was wrapped in a rising inferno. He had never believed it possible. He fucked men because they paid him to do it. Yet, if Paddy had no dick at all this would be enough, he thought, his head spinning.

"Are you okay?" his lover whispered, nuzzling his ear, kissing his neck and shoulder hungrily.

"Yeah," he exhaled tremulously. "Yeah, it feels good."

Ever so gently, Paddy gripped his body just below the ribs and rolled him over into the soft, clean smelling sheets. He began to kiss Rayne's torso and belly, running his tongue up and down over the younger man's skin, circling his nipples with the very tip and tickling the stiff, dark buds that protruded from his skinny chest. Rayne arched his back with a little moan of appreciation, stroking his hands through the older man's hair again as Paddy kissed his belly and the head of his leaking cock. He swept his clever tongue slowly down the length of the boy's shaft then kissed his way back up it until Rayne was panting eagerly under him.

"Still good?" Paddy grinned up at him playfully.

"Mmmmmmhhhhhh!" Rayne nodded fervently. It was so good that it robbed him of speech. As Paddy's mouth did ingenious things to him down below he simply closed his eyes and gave in to the feelings generated by that light, sensuous contact with his skin. Skilfully, Paddy wrapped him in the warm wetness of his mouth then released him and blew gently on his flesh until he was almost ready to beg for a more urgent kind of loving.