Chapter 10

I match my pace to Harris's as we jog along a trail through the woods. I can't stop thinking about some of the ideas he threw at me on Sunday. Orienteering. Night lining. Nature walks. I become hyper-aware of the flora and fauna around us. I recognize oak trees from their leaves with distinctive lobes, but the rest of the trees are a mystery to me. Still, I could learn. Or I could hire someone with more knowledge than me. Harris's ideas were far too grand for one person to run alone. I won't be able to hire anyone until I've opened the place and started turning a profit. But at least I can visualize this place opening now. Before Harris, I'd almost completely written my dreams off.

"Penny for them," Harris says.

"Sorry, what?"

He laughs. "A penny for your thoughts. You were in a world of your own. What were you thinking about?"

"Nature trails."

He grins. "Have you got any ideas?"

"Just that I'll need to learn how to recognize more than an oak tree."

Harris jogs on the spot, facing me and points at a tree with smooth, greenish-grey bark and oval leaves. "Ash. It was known as the tree of life in Norse mythology, and in British folklore, it was said to have healing properties."

My jaw drops. "How do you know that?"

"I was in Scouts. My pack leader was an arborist in his day job. He loved geeking out about trees when we went on camping trips and things."

"You're amazing."

"Nah, I just have a good memory."

"Could you name every tree in these woods?"

He looks around. "Most of them. We could figure the rest out together. It's a mature wood."

"How can you tell?"

"The canopy is high, and the ground is pretty clear. Good for night lining." He winks and jogs along the trail.

I catch up with ease. "I can't tell you haven't been jogging regularly recently."

"Are you calling me fit?"

I hum. "You're very fit." I catch hold of him and pull him into a clinch so I can kiss him.

We're breathing hard from the long jog, our hearts hammering. He's got a V of sweat on his grey jumper, and his face shimmers in the sunlight peeking through the canopy. He's gorgeous. I cup his jaw with one hand and tickle his nape with the other as I kiss him harder. He rests his hands on my hips.

"We're supposed to be jogging," he whispers as I release his lips.

"We're having a rest."

I go to kiss him again, but he spins away, grinning.

"If you want to kiss me, you'll have to catch me." He sprints away.

My pulse kicks up a notch. A thrill runs through me. Being taller, I'd bet I'm faster, so I force myself to wait a few seconds to give him a head start. When I set off after him, I'm trembling with need.

I run at breakneck speed along the trail. I should have caught up with him by now. I pause, listening above the thump of my heart, the rush of blood in my ears, and the rasp of my breath. A twig snaps to my right. I spin. He's hiding. I grin and leave the trail, crashing through bushes to pursue Harris.

A moment later, I spot him hiding behind the broad trunk of an oak tree. As I approach, he breaks his cover, laughing as he darts through the forest. I catch him. We tumble to the floor, me falling on him. I kiss his cheek and lift myself to roll him onto his back. I pin his wrists to the forest floor and use my body to trap him. His breathing is harsh, his pupils are blown wide, and his eyes are full of lust. I claim my prize by kissing him fiercely. He moans and sucks my tongue as I plunge it into his yielding mouth.

"That was hot, Daddy," he says.

"Very fucking hot."

We stare into each other's eyes.

Harris's throat clicks as he swallows. "We should do that again."

I arch an eyebrow. "Kiss-chase?"

He nods slowly. "Maybe—maybe more."

"More?"

"Hunt me down and fuck me."

The air whooshes out of my lungs. I get off him and sit cross-legged beside him. "You're serious?"

He pushes up onto his elbows. "I—think so. Is that something you've ever done?"

"No."

"Do you want to?" Is his voice quivering from excitement or fear?

I lick my lips. The thought of chasing him down and fucking him out here leaves my head spinning and my cock aching. "Do you?"

"Yes," he replies in a needy whisper.

"It would be hot."

"Uh-huh."

I run my hand through my hair. "We'd get dirty."

Harris laughs. "Wouldn't that make it sexier?"

I groan. "Yes."

He shifts onto his knees and places his hands on mine. "I trust you, Daddy. Chase me. Catch me. Fuck me."

A shiver snakes down my spine. "I love a boy who knows what he wants."

He leans forward and pecks my lips. "You, Daddy. I want you."

I pull him into my arms, kiss him hard, and then cradle him while I stroke his hair and stare into his eyes. "We'd need to talk it through properly when we're not half-turned on."

"You're only half turned on?"

I chuckle. "All right, I'm fully turned on."

"Discuss it when we're thinking with our heads, not our dicks. Got it."

I lean down and kiss him tenderly. "I'm so glad you turned up on my doorstep, boy."

"I'm glad you weren't an axe murderer."

I bark out a laugh. "Are you sure I'm not?"

"Perfectly sure. You're a kind, strong, sexy Daddy. Fate brought us together."

"I don't?—"

He tickles his fingers through my beard as he kisses me. "That's okay, Daddy. I'll believe for both of us."

"We were going to go to Scarborough today."

"Hmm."

"We'll never get there if we stay out here all day."

"A few more minutes, Daddy."

I kiss him softly and nip his bottom lip playfully. "A few more."

* * *

We begin our day in Scarborough by exploring the castle. It's mostly ruined and only accessible via raised wooden walkways. But the view across the sea from the high vantage point is worth the visit alone. It's a bright day with beautiful azure skies, but as it's still early spring, the weather is crisp and cool.

"It's amazing that anything's left standing after eight hundred years in the wind and rain, isn't it?" Harris says as we stand hand in hand, reading one of many information boards.

"Yes. It's a testament to the skill of the builders and the strength of the stone they used."

He leans against my side. "Do you think they had any clue that the castle would still be standing so far in the future?"

"I doubt it. They were building for the present. Their present."

Harris laughs and rests his head against my shoulder. "I know what you meant. It would be nice to create something that matters. You're getting to do that."

"I am?"

"Yes. With the Open Arms Activity Centre."

His confidence that I can get my business off the ground is contagious. More and more, I believe I can do it.

After thoroughly exploring the castle and all the beautiful views, we wander into town to the beachfront. Several shops are closed, as it's out of season, but we find an open ice-cream store. I treat us to cones with two flavours of ice cream each. We eat them as we walk along the beach. In summer, it will be packed. Now, it's pretty empty, allowing us to enjoy the whisper of the waves as they caress the shore, the spongy sensation of wet sand beneath the soles of our shoes, and the powerful scent of salt. Seagulls wheel and cry overhead.

"Tell me about your holidays here," I say.

"We'd come to the beach most days. Bright and early so we could claim a spot and hire deck chairs and a windbreaker. My parents would relax and watch while Nigel and I built sandcastles and paddled in the sea."

"Did you build sandcastles together?"

"Sometimes. But the older we got, the more competitive we got. We'd build opposing castles and ask our parents to judge the winner. I swear they kept a tally so that no one won more often than the other."

I chuckle. "Probably."

"We'd have fish and chips for lunch, and if we'd been good, Dad would buy us ice cream for a mid-afternoon snack. We'd go for a day trip to Whitby. Nigel and I loved The Dracula Experience. Is it still there?"

I shrug. "No idea."

"On our last night, we'd get to stay up late for a ghost tour."

"You have a lot of happy memories of Scarborough?"

"Tons. Which is why I wanted to spend the week here. But I'm not upset my plans got disrupted. In fact, I'm very glad they did." He smiles and knocks his shoulder against my arm.

I stop him and kiss him tenderly. His lips are cold from the breeze and the ice cream. His mouth tastes of hazelnut and rich chocolate, making me wish I'd chosen those flavors too.

His phone rings. We break apart. Is his brother calling him again?

He wanders a few steps away as he takes the call. I don't listen. Instead, I turn to face the sea and inhale deeply. Sea air always gives me a big appetite. My stomach grumbles, reminding me that ice cream isn't a substitute for lunch.

Harris hugs me from behind and comes to stand beside me. "My car's all fixed."

"I can take you to pick it up tomorrow." We probably won't get home before the garage closes today. Not unless we cut our visit short.

"Thanks, Daddy."

"Lunch?"

"Great plan."

We buy fish and chips and sit on a bench to eat them. Seagulls flock to us, coming closer as they eye our food. One tries to snatch a chip from me, but I let out a stern no, and it gives up, squawking indignantly as it flies off.

"I don't remember there being so many seagulls when I was a kid," Harris says.

"Or maybe there were more people to hassle."

"Probably. We always came during the summer holiday. It was packed. It's much quieter now."

"And colder."

"That too. Did your family have anywhere special you used to go on holiday?"

"No. My parents never took me to the same place twice. We didn't tend to go abroad either. They said there was plenty to discover in the UK, so why bother? Besides, they preferred exploring to sitting on a beach. They were always active."

"Ah, so that's where you got your sense of adventure?"

"I suppose so."

"Did they support your decision to enlist?"

I purse my lips and stare at the sea. "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"They were worried but also proud. They got all dolled up for my passing out parade. The way Mum sobbed, you'd have thought I was getting married. They were relieved when I decided to quit."

"Are you close?"

"Yes. I tell them everything. Almost everything. They don't know I'm into kink."

"Yeah, I wouldn't tell my parents that either. Or Nigel."

"I get the feeling he might use it against you."

Harris frowns. "How so?"

"If he knew you were submissive, I mean. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." I rub my neck. Fuck.

"No. It's fine." He sighs. "You're probably right. He certainly likes to remind me I should be going above and beyond because we're family."

"That doesn't give him the right to take advantage of you."

"I know."

I finish the last of my chips and screw the paper they were wrapped in into a ball. "What next?"

"I don't mind as long as I'm spending time with you, Daddy." He winces. "Too needy?"

"Not at all." I kiss him. He tastes of salt, vinegar, and desire now.

We put our rubbish in the nearest bin and walk along the seafront, gazing at shop windows, whether open or closed. Toward the end of the beach, we find a shopfront painted in bright pink. The sign over the door says it's a party-decor shop. Amazingly, it's open.

Harris drags me inside. "We should look for ideas."

"Ideas?"

"Aren't you a cute couple," the woman behind the counter says. She's in her mid-thirties with rainbow hair, dark make-up, and several piercings. "Are you looking for ideas for your wedding? We've got lots of supplies over there."

Harris's cheeks go bright pink. "Oh, no, we're not—" He gestures between us.

The woman raises her eyebrows and looks pointedly at our joined hands.

"We're a couple," I confirm. Even if only for the week.

"But we're not getting married. We're looking for Pride decorations. I know it's not June, but do you have any?"

"Of course. Pride doesn't have to be confined to one month of the year. In fact, it shouldn't be. Over there."

We shuffle in the direction she's pointing and discover a plethora of Pride-themed decorations, including flags, banners, balloons, stickers, temporary tattoos, bunting, straws, and tablecloths. Not just in the Pride rainbow colors either but in the colors of several of the other flags too.

"Wow," I say.

"You'll be able to find everything you need to decorate for your opening weekend here. This multi-flag bunting and the balloons would be perfect for putting up at the entrance and around the course."

I can't keep my eyes off Harris and the bright enthusiasm in his eyes. He grins as he speaks, and his actions are animated.

"What?" he asks.

"Just marvelling at how beautiful and wonderful my boy is." I keep my voice low so only he can hear me.

His cheeks glow, and he waves his hand dismissively. "No more than you, Daddy."

I kiss his cheek. "Don't diminish yourself, boy. You're both those things and more."

He sucks in a breath. "So are you, Daddy."

We share a long kiss.

"Help me pick decorations out," I say.

"Now?"

"Why not? It'll save me a trip back here in a few months."

Harris rubs the back of his neck. "You don't have to listen to my crazy ideas. It's your business."

"Your ideas aren't crazy. They're amazing. A Pride-themed opening weekend is perfect. Perhaps I can donate all the profits to various charities."

"That's a great idea, Daddy."

We spend the next half an hour selecting decorations to buy. As the owner runs everything through the till, I wince at the cost. She packs the decorations into four large brown paper bags.

"I couldn't help but overhear that you're having an opening weekend," she says.

"Not until June."

"Well, you can't be too prepared. Can I ask what you're opening? I'm intrigued."

"An activity centre."

"Which is going to be an inclusive, safe space," Harris says.

"Do you have fliers? I'd love to share the word," the woman says.

"Not yet. But we'll send you some when we do."

"We will?" I ask.

Harris laughs. "Yes. Free publicity is the best publicity. Speaking of which, do you have some fliers we can take? We can include them in goodie bags for people who attend the grand opening to take home with them."

"I sure do." The owner goes through a door into the back of the shop.

"Goodie bags?" I ask.

"Bad idea? Sorry. I'm getting carried away. It just hit me that we could ask local businesses to donate things to put in them, as well as including fliers."

"Keep getting carried away. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to repay you for any of your brilliant ideas."

"Uh, you're putting me up for a week for free. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything."

Harris chuckles. "Look at us getting all cute and slushy." He pushes onto his tiptoes to kiss me.

"You're an adorable couple," the woman says from the doorway. "Make sure you come back when you are planning your wedding. Here you go. I overheard what you said about donations. Will these make-up sticks do?" She shows us a rainbow roll-on make-up stick with the shop's name and website address.

"They're great," Harris says enthusiastically.

"Wonderful." She puts the fliers and half a dozen boxes of make-up sticks into a bag. "Let me know if you need more."

"We—Miles will."

We leave the shop laden with bags.

"We should take these to the car," I say.

"Then what?"

"Whatever you want. We can stay and explore more of Scarborough. Or we can go home and explore each other." I wink.

"Or both, Daddy? A bit more exploring first and then home for fun?"

I smile. "Both is good."

We put the bags in the boot of the car so they're out of sight and drive a little way down the coast. Our route takes us through a more residential part of Scarborough. A sign catches my eye. I indicate and pull over.

"Is something wrong, Daddy?"

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. Should I say something?

"Daddy?"

I gesture toward the clinic that's advertising same-day results. "I saw that sign and wondered if—" I shake my head.

Harris twists in his seat and peers at the building. "It's a sexual-health clinic. Oh!" He widens his eyes.

"Forget it."

"Tell me what you were thinking, Daddy."

I suck in a breath. "That it would be sexy as fuck to chase you, catch you, and fuck you bare."

He shivers and sucks his lower lip into his mouth. "Oh, Daddy."

"But, uh, I'd understand if you're not interested. It's a big step to take when we're?—"

He puts his hand over my mouth. "Don't say strangers, Daddy. We're not strangers. I've spent more time with you in the last four days than with my last boyfriend in as many weeks. I know you. I trust you. I—" He takes my hand, holds my palm against his cheek, and presses into it. "I'd love to get tested so we can catch me and fuck me bare, Daddy. It will be an amazing way to end a wonderful week." His chin wobbles.

Does he feel the same way as I do? An ache deep in his chest every time he thinks about saying goodbye on Saturday? The ache gets worse with every moment I spend with him. It's ridiculous. At least, I thought it was until his earnest words crept under my skin and found their way into my heart. We do know each other, and as I learn more about him, I adore him more.

"Is that when you want to do it?" I lean closer to him so his breath warms my face.

"Yes, Daddy. Friday night. Is-is that okay?"

I crush my lips to his and kiss him long and hard. "It's perfect, boy. Let's get tested."