This Other Country (25 page)

“Wait for me.”

They were awfully polite.

Ben shot back to the bedroom he was occupying and re-emerged wearing some jeans and pulling a sweater over his head, then hopping into shoes. Nikolas handed him his jacket. Ben thanked him civilly once more, and they stepped out onto the moonlit gravel. Radulf went off to conduct his own business, and they stood together under the vast dome of stars, stamping for warmth, while Nikolas lit a cigarette. He tipped his head back and blew a stream of smoke into the cold air.

Ben was still watching him.

Again, Nikolas thought he might be.

Finally, he sighed. “Just say it, Benjamin. Whatever is on your mind. I’ve heard most of your odd pronouncements over eight years. I don’t think anything you say will shock me.”

“Me fucking Kate shocked you.”

Nikolas winced and began to turn away. Ben caught his arm. “I thought so. That kinda answers my question about what we are, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?”

“Tell me!”

“We’ve been together nearly nine years.”

Ben staggered slightly. “Nine years! You and me?
Together
? In a rel…That’s…and Kate knew? Why did she do it?”

Nikolas took another drag on his cigarette. “It goes back a long way. It’s my fault in some ways. I deliberately pushed
us
under her nose. I’m a bad man, Benjamin. You’ll remember this when you regain your memory. I was…impressed with myself that I had you and she didn’t. And I think recently it has been playing on her mind.”

“Huh.”

It was Nikolas’s turn to eye Ben warily for a moment. “I wish now I’d told you when you first came into the kitchen in London. When you asked me who I was, perhaps I should have told you. You don’t seem as disturbed by this as I thought you would be. You were more surprised after the first time we fucked, I think. Shocked, I seem to recall. Actually, I think you might have vomited.”

Ben shook his head. “Bollocks. That’s not true.”

Nikolas grabbed his arm. “You remember?”

Ben shook his head. “No. But I know
that’s
not true. I must have been thinking then what I’m thinking now…” He demonstrated what this was by taking Nikolas’s face firmly in his hands and kissing him, his tongue demanding entry. He mumbled something into the kiss then pulled further away, his nose wrinkling. “Are you sure I like you smoking?”

Nikolas nodded. “Very much so.” He took a long drag and resumed the kiss, the smoke now shared between them. Ben laughed and plunged his cold hands into the back of Nikolas’s trousers, and that was so familiar Nikolas had to stop for a moment and just hold him to regain his equilibrium.

Ben embraced him tightly until they heard Radulf returning and they began to accompany him back to the house. “I’m not staying in that other room.”

Nikolas ruffled his hair. “No. You’re not.”

“But this is going to be difficult for you, isn’t it? I mean, this is all new to me, so everything is confusing…but it’s me but
not me
for you. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it does, because I’ve already thought it myself. You but not you.”

“I may do things that hurt you but I don’t know I’m doing them—like Kate. Fuck, I can’t believe I did that now and in your house. That’s not like me.”

“No, it’s not. I suspect you were very expertly manipulated.”

“She—” Ben idly scratched the back of his neck, apparently realising just in time that this might not be the best topic of conversation.

Nikolas caught him around the neck and tugged his newly shorn, dark hair again. “Don’t worry. I’m not as upset as I was earlier when I arrived home. In fact, when Kate and I have our conversation, I might even thank her. She precipitated
this
. In a way.”

“Why do I get the impression when you say you’re going to talk to her that isn’t going to actually involve words?”

“I’ve no idea. You are very strange sometimes, Benjamin. I’m head of a small charity. What else could I possibly mean?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Quick hard sex on floors was one thing. Deliberately undressing with another man and sliding naked between his sheets was something else. Even Nikolas was finding it odd, because although it was something they’d done without thought, now he was hyperaware, ultra-conscious of what Ben must be thinking, and consequently found himself stiff and ill at ease too. He then had something of a brainwave and returned to the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of ice-cold vodka and two glasses. Ben sat up in the bed and frowned. “We drink vodka together in bed?”

“All the time. I’m Russian, Ben. We always drink vodka.”

“You’re Russian? You told me you were Danish. Do I speak Russian as well?”

Nikolas told him he was an idiot in Russian, and Ben grumbled, “I understood that.”

Nikolas grinned. “That’s because I say it to you a lot.” He filled both—large—glasses to the rim and handed one to Ben. The first taste was beyond describing. It slipped down as easily and with the same sense of coming home as pushing into Ben had earlier.

Ben was sniffing it suspiciously. “Are you sure I like this?”

“Absolutely. Drink up.” He lit another cigarette. They were sitting cross-legged, the bedding tangled around them, and now there was hardly any embarrassment at all.

“What did you do in London? Was it connected to me and this?” Ben tapped on his head.

“In a way. We’re still chasing up loose ends. Nothing for you to worry about. What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing. You look…happy. Do you always look like that after sex?”

Nikolas blew smoke at him. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask you when you’re back.”

“Was this how it was the first time? I mean, how did we…? You must have…bloody hell, I can’t even
imagine
what you did to make me…”

“On the contrary, Mr Rider.
You
seduced
me
one weekend in my own house. I was a happily married man and completely taken unawares.”

“Really? Huh. Philipa did say you’d been very happy together.”

“We were. It was the perfect marriage.”

“But I
seduced
you? So, what…? I was your first man?”

“Most definitely you were. Goodness. You had to…teach me.” Nikolas topped them up again and blew some more smoke at Ben, watching the green eyes with their ridiculous long lashes in a whole new light. He was reflecting he’d started taking Ben Rider-Mikkelsen too much for granted. Seeing him here, like this, raw, before…well, before Ben had met
him
, he supposed, before he’d shaped and moulded Ben into what he wanted him to be…was something of a revelation for Nikolas. Ben Rider-Mikkelsen didn’t eat with his mouth full, spit crumbs all over him and fish teabags out with his fingers. Actually, he still did that, but not with Nikolas’s tea. Ben Rider-Mikkelsen didn’t casually take someone else—a woman—to bed for the afternoon. Although it was fascinating meeting this unformed Ben Rider again—in the flesh, so to speak— he knew which Ben he preferred, which one he wanted back.

But speaking of flesh…Nikolas removed Ben’s glass from his hand and pushed him back onto the bed. He braced above him on one arm, the other hand reacquainting itself with Ben’s familiar features. Ben held his gaze, which was clearly difficult, for it was piercing and intent, fuelled on vodka and the smell of sex. Nikolas put a hand around Ben’s throat. “I think it’s time I jogged some of those memories back for you.”

§ § §

Ben had always been physical. Some of his earliest memories were of running wild on the moors, which stretched bleak and dangerous behind his house in Yorkshire. He’d joined the army, and his love of the extreme had been given a whole new definition. But all that time, during all that excess, all the agony, he’d always felt something was missing, some peak of ecstasy was just out of reach. He’d been right. Beyond pain, there was intense pleasure, and this strange new boss of his took him there that night.

§ § §

Nikolas showed Ben the direct and visceral link between pain and sexual fulfilment for men, showed them what superb physique could reward you with. What trust could lead you to explore. Nikolas, of course, had taken Ben on this journey many times, so for him it was not so overwhelming, so shocking. But he’d never done it all at once to a version of Ben who hadn’t worked up to it suggestion by suggestion, experiment by experiment. Ben’s body was still the same, and Nikolas knew it better than this half-Ben did himself. Nikolas also knew Ben’s limits, and he stayed well away from them. There was a lot he knew how to do within those confines, though.

§ § §

By the time daylight came, Ben was as a wrung out rag on the bed, dazed, bleeding, bruised, but in a place in his head he’d been searching for his whole life—running wild, enduring beastings, excelling at selection, thriving on operations—and he’d found it here in a bed with a beautiful stranger he’d known for approximately three days.

He only roused when Nikolas came in with a tray of tea and a large stack of toast dripping in yellow butter. This tea was in a porcelain pot with matching cups, milk in a delicate jug. Ben tried to sit up but couldn’t on his first attempt. He rolled onto his belly and levered himself back up against the pillows. Nikolas put the tray down and slid into the warm space Ben had vacated. He poured them both some tea.

§ § §

“What’s that word beginning with s?”

Nikolas raised his eyebrows. He’d been miles away, reliving the night. New-Ben was even odder than his Ben. “Shit?”

Ben gave him the look. Nikolas laughed. Both Bens in one Ben body. Life threw you unexpected moments of pleasure when you thought all pleasure was done for the day.

“No. The one that means weird.”

“Surreal?”

“Yep. That’s the one. I’m sitting here like this,” Ben clearly felt he didn’t need to point out the injuries, the bruises, the general state of his appearance, “in a bed with another man. A man I don’t know and drinking tea out of the Queen’s bloody china. Surreal.”

Nikolas frowned. “How did you know this was palace china? Did Philipa tell you I stole it?”

Ben’s mouth opened slightly, but he just shook his head and began to work on the toast. “This is really good.”

Nikolas flicked a small wodge of masticated bread off his arm. “It’s the only thing I know how to make.”

“You want?” Ben pushed the plate to him.

“No. Thank you.”

After swallowing and starting on a second slice, Ben challenged conversationally, “So, you gonna tell me?”

Nikolas was stretched out alongside him now, contemplating the tor rising above their heads. “Tell you what?”

“What you really are. Who you are. One thing’s for fucking sure: you haven’t always been a charity whatnot thingy.”

“I was a diplomat. I ran the Ministry of Industries and Minerals.”

“Bollocks and bullshit.”

“Eat your toast.”

Another few slices went the way of the first. “So, do I ever do that to you?”

Nikolas shuddered theatrically. “No, never. I can’t abide pain. I prefer…flowers.”

“Uh-huh. So how’d you get that then? That was a bullet. More than one.” Ben dug into Nikolas’s thigh scar with a buttery finger, which made Nikolas laugh and turn over sharply onto his belly. That only revealed all his other scars. They got poked at and buttered too. “So?”

“Flower arranging is a very dangerous occupation.”

Ben pushed the tray to one side and with an audible hiss of pain sat astride Nikolas’s thighs, just below his hard, moulded backside. He laid a hand there, brushing the tanned skin with his thumb. “Can I…explore?”

Nikolas turned his head quizzically, staring back up at Ben. “You saw it all last night.”

“Not like this. In the light.”

The winter dawn had just arrived in the room, shafts of light illuminating the bed from the glass ceiling. Ben didn’t wait for permission. He spread his fingers over the cheeks and eased them apart, brushing with his thumbs then using them to explore further, deeper. Nikolas bent up at the waist, his head hung low, groaning. It had been a very long night, and he was fairly sure he was now running completely on empty. Ben lifted up. “Turn over.” Nikolas did. Ben settled comfortably back onto Nikolas’s legs and contemplated everything he saw.

Nikolas smirked. Not empty after all. Ben’s breathing hitched at the sight of Nikolas’s reviving cock, and he trailed his finger lightly across the tip, held its rigid length as it swelled and filled, tapped it lightly from side to side as it swayed independent now, erect.

Ben scrunched his face for a moment and then slapped Nikolas’s cock hard. He laughed as Nikolas rose outraged and complaining. Ben leant forward and mouthed into a kiss, “I’ve done that before. I remembered.”

Nikolas held him off. Ben shook his head and twitched his shoulder in a tiny shrug. “Just that. Sorry.”

Nikolas huffed and lay back. “Typical,” was his only comment.

Ben laughed, slid further forward and took Nikolas inside. Nikolas knew Ben was extremely sore because he winced and complained, but he did it anyway until he was settled and filled. Nikolas folded his arms beneath his head. They looked at one another, not speaking until Ben murmured once more, “Surreal.” He reached forward and placed his fingertips to the inside of Nikolas’s arm, and when Nikolas frowned in incomprehension, he just smiled. “Cool. I remember that as well.”

After a moment, his buoyant spirit seemed to desert him and he pulled off Nikolas and lowered himself gingerly to lie alongside. Nikolas let Ben take his own time to speak. This Ben was the same Ben in all essential ways, and he would talk eventually. Ben always did; he wasn’t the bottling-up kind. Which was just as well, he reflected wryly; a relationship really only had room for one of those.

“Will this be enough for you? If I don’t get my memories back? I don’t know what I’m missing, so it’s not so bad for me. But what about you? If I stay like this?”

“You’ve remembered such essential things perhaps I’ll be satisfied.”

Ben rolled onto his side and propped his head up on one hand. “Are you always like this?”