Chapter 8

After showering, fucking, and showering again, we doze on my bed, cuddling, kissing, and talking until our stomachs complain. We relocate to the kitchen, where I put Harris's wet, muddy clothes in the washing machine and prepare food while he sits at the table with a laptop, his lips pursed and brow furrowed. His concentration face is sweet.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Putting some advertising ideas together for you, but I'm missing one key ingredient."

"What?"

"A name."

"Harris?"

He laughs. "I'm flattered. But I don't think we know each other well enough for you to name your business after me."

"I walked into that, didn't I?"

He holds his thumb and forefinger up. "A tiny bit. I'm guessing the previous owners put up the sign on the road?"

"Yes."

He half closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head. "Nope. Can't remember what it was called."

"Murphy's Assault Course Challenge."

"Huh. Well, that's boring."

I bring our food to the table. It's nothing fancy. Pasta with homemade sauce and a salad. Harris shuts his laptop and pushes it away as I put one of the plates in front of him. I can't resist leaning down to kiss his forehead. He lifts his head at the last second, so I reroute my kiss to his tender lips.

"Thank you, Daddy."

Is he thanking me for the food or the kiss?

I sit adjacent to him. "The owner's surname was Murphy. This used to be a livestock farm, but it wasn't making enough money, so he sold off most of the fields and built an assault course on what was left. Apparently, he made decent money for a bit, but then he got sick and was hospitalised. He eventually moved into a care home but refused to sell. He had no family, so the property was vacant until he died. Then it was put up for auction."

"And that's where you come in?"

I nod.

"So this is a fresh start for you and the property? It definitely needs a new name and a fun logo. I can help with that."

I put my hand on his arm. "You don't need to."

"I want to."

"Thank you." I might be starting to believe in luck, fate, or whatever you want to call it. I can't think of any other way to explain Harris coming into my life exactly when I needed him to.

"Amazing food, by the way. Thank you, Daddy. I can't imagine you did much cooking in the army."

I chuckle. "No. Not much. Most of our food was cooked for us."

"Did you learn to cook before or after?"

"After. When I left the army, I moved in with my parents briefly. They made it their mission to teach me how to cook five good meals. Several cookbooks later and I can make more than five."

"Impressive. Remind me to thank your parents." Harris's face goes bright red. He puts his knife and fork down and waves his hands. "Not that I'm likely ever to meet them. I'll be out of your hair tomorrow." His expression falls as he slowly lowers his hands to his lap.

Tomorrow. The thought makes me sombre too.

"I'll thank them for you, boy," I say in a forced light tone.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Can you cook?"

"Yeah. As tempting as it was to live off microwave meals and takeaway, I decided it would be healthier if I learnt to cook. Mum's one of those people who loves to feed everyone. The kitchen was her palace, and woe betide anyone who intruded when she was cooking. It was great while I lived at home, but when I left, it was like being chucked into the deep end of a pool without armbands when you can't swim."

"I can imagine."

Harris picks his utensils up and eats a few mouthfuls of his lunch. I do the same, even though my appetite isn't what it was a few minutes ago.

"You must have some idea of what you want to call this place when you reopen it," he says.

I sigh. "No. Until a few hours ago, I'd convinced myself I'd never reopen it."

"And now?"

"Now? I still don't know. You've given me lots of fantastic ideas, but I'm not sure I have the funds to turn any of them into reality."

"You won't if you try to do it all at once. You need to create a business plan, showing what you'll start with and how you'll grow the business over time, with costings and projected earnings."

I gape at him. "I thought you were in marketing?"

He laughs. "I am, but I helped Nigel—my brother—come up with his business plan when he wanted to open his own business, and now one of my many, many workcaps is keeping the day-to-day accounts. He pays a freelance accountant to do all the tax stuff."

"You're amazing."

He blushes and dips his chin. "I'm really not."

I lean over, cup his chin, and lift his face. "You are, boy."

His blush intensifies, making his skin glow. "Thank you, Daddy. We can start a business plan this afternoon if you want. Or you can tell me to sod off and stop interfering."

"You're not interfering. You're inspiring."

He puts his utensils on his plate and rubs his palms over his radioactive cheeks. "Stop it, Daddy. You're making me blush."

"You're beautiful when you blush." I give him a long, lingering kiss.

As we part lips, we lock gazes. Damn, I'm going to miss him. How can he have got under my skin so completely in less than twenty-four hours?

"Names," he says decisively and carries on eating.

I shrug. "Run for Miles?"

Harris wrinkles his nose. "That sounds more like a charity."

"Run With Miles?"

We smile at each other and shake our heads.

"You're right. Bad idea," I say.

"It's not bad. It's just not… catchy."

"Outdoor Warriors?"

He scrunches his lips together.

"Adventure Warriors? Ugh, this is hard."

Harris taps the end of his knife against the table lightly. "Do you have a pen and some paper?"

I nod and go to get some from one of the kitchen drawers. Mum bought me a shopping list pad with an attached pen as part of a moving-in gift. All it's done is gather dust since I moved in.

"Write down every word and phrase that sums up what you want this place to be."

He eats while I complete the task he's set me.

"Now underline or circle the things that are most important to you."

I take time to consider each word carefully. Harris takes our empty plates and washes them up. When he returns to the table, I've circled inclusive, safe space, and friendly.

"Think of names that encapsulate those three things, Daddy," Harris says softly.

I jot some ideas down, but most feel silly when I commit them to paper.

Harris jabs his finger beneath one of my ideas. "That's the one, Daddy."

I stare at what I've written. Open Arms. A knot of emotion forms in my throat. "All I've ever wanted is to be welcomed for who I am."

"I think that's what most queer people want—to be accepted."

"Open Arms Activity Centre."

"I love it, Daddy. But what matters is that you love it. Do you?"

I flip to a clean page and write the name down in block capitals. "Yes."

Harris squeezes my hand. "Let's figure out how to make the Open Arms Activity Centre a reality."

* * *

We spend the afternoon discussing ideas and creating a business roadmap. Harris is animated and full of ideas, leaving my head buzzing with possibilities. I've gone from writing this place off to believing I might be able to turn it into something special, all because of him.

While I cook dinner, he creates ad mockups on his laptop and shows me his ideas. They all look amazing to me, but what would I know?

"I know it's an extra expense, but you should hire a professional photographer to take pictures of the course and you. In your army gear, of course," Harris says.

"I guess a pro will have the equipment and know-how to really show the place off."

"Exactly. Do you want me to add it to the to-do list, Daddy?"

"Please. Do you want wine with dinner?"

"Wine? You're spoiling me, Daddy."

"Is that a yes, boy?"

"Yes, Daddy."

I pop the cork on a nice bottle of red I've been saving for no reason other than that I don't like drinking alone and set it aside to breathe while I finish cooking.

A few minutes later, Harris brings his laptop across. "I've got some logo ideas for you to look at."

"Is designing logos part of marketing?"

"Eh, it's more of a hobby. Nigel asked me to design the logo for his business. You'll want to hire a pro to design something better when you can afford it, but hopefully, one of my ideas will do for now."

While I move the stir-fry I'm making around the wok, I study the three designs on his laptop screen. The first is the outline of an assault course with a rainbow around it. Next, a silhouette figure helps another up a wall. The third is the clasped hands from the second design, with a subtle rainbow fade in the background.

I kiss his forehead. "These are amazing. I need to pay you for these designs." I won't take advantage of him like his brother does.

"No, you don't."

I take the laptop, close the lid, put it on the worktop, and pull Harris against me. "I'm not expecting you to work for free, boy. Let me pay you."

"You're letting me stay here. Do you know how much a night in a bed and breakfast plus three home-cooked meals costs? This is the least I can do to repay you."

"Haven't you already paid for a bed and breakfast?"

He purses his lips. "True, but that's not your fault or your problem. You could have turned me away last night. You didn't have to let me stay an extra day. Accept the logo designs, Daddy. Please?" He pushes onto his tiptoes and kisses me.

"You're too generous." I peck his lips and return to stirring our food so it doesn't burn.

"So are you. Not that I'm complaining. I love being on the receiving end of your generosity, Daddy." Winking, he grabs his laptop and spins away.

I turn the hob off, transfer the stir-fry into a serving dish, and carry it to the table. I fetch the wine and two glasses and pour a generous amount into each.

"Did you grow up in Lancaster?" I ask.

Harris raises his eyebrows. "You remembered."

I smile and sip the wine.

"Yes. I was born and raised there. You must think that's boring."

"Why?"

"You must have seen most of the world during your time in the army."

"It was more a case of seeing a lot of a few places."

"Even so, I bet you've seen more of the world than me."

I shrug. "Maybe. Do you like Lancaster?"

"Yes. It's pretty and close to the seaside. They've been doing the promenade up in Morecambe. Trying to rejuvenate the faded splendour."

"Is it working?"

"Eh. Kind of. As long as you face the sea and don't turn around."

I chuckle.

"Dinner is amazing. Thanks, Daddy."

"You're welcome, boy."

Harris grins and shows his appreciation for my cooking by stuffing his mouth full of stir-fry, which he washes down with a gulp of wine. "What about you, Daddy? Where are you from? Do your family live close?"

"I grew up in York. When my parents retired, they relocated to Pickering."

Harris frowns. "I have no clue where Pickering is. Sorry."

"West of Scarborough. South of here."

"So, not far from here?"

"It's closer to Scarborough than I am."

He winces. "I got crazy lost, didn't I?"

"I'll guide you back to the main road to Scarborough. As long as you stay on it, you won't get lost again."

"Tomorrow?"

We lock stares.

My stomach drops. "Tomorrow."

Harris drinks half his glass of wine in one go. I do the same and top our glasses up.

"Do you have any siblings?" he asks.

"A younger sister. Anne. She's a doctor, married a doctor, and then moved to Australia."

"Australia? Wow. You're from a real jet-setting family."

I laugh, glad of the diversion from the weird, heavy feeling in my chest.

"Do you visit her often?"

"I've been across once since I left the army. I want to go more often, but I sank all my savings into this place. They've arranged to come here for Christmas. Well, to my parents', but that's close enough."

"A festive family reunion will be lovely."

I push my empty plate away and rest my chin on my upturned palm. "What's your dream job?"

Harris blows out a breath. "Now you're asking. Marketing for a company I believe in, I guess. A company that makes a positive difference in the world, however small."

"I hope you find what you're looking for."

He rolls his eyes. "I've got to start looking first. I have a job."

"A job you don't enjoy."

He droops his shoulders. "It's okay. I love marketing. If that's all Nigel asked me to do, I'd be content."

"Would you be satisfied with ‘content'?"

He stares at me, lips slightly downturned. "What do you mean?"

"Why settle for content when you could find a job that makes you happy?"

He fidgets in his chair. "Content pays the bills, and I'm helping my brother out."

"But are you happy, boy?"

"Well, no. But that's more to do with Nigel heaping tons of extra work on me than anything."

"Do you think he'll ever stop doing that?"

Harris shakes his head. "I know. I know. I need to get out and find something else, but it's not that simple, Daddy. He's my brother."

"That doesn't give him the right to use you. No one else would put up with the way he treats you. Why should you?" I ask softly.

"I shouldn't."

"Do your parents know?"

Harris blinks. "Know what?"

"How Nigel treats you at work."

"No. Why would they?"

"Maybe they could intervene."

"I'm not going to rat my brother out and cause friction in the family. Besides, I'm an adult. I can fight my own battles."

"True, but are you?"

He slumps his shoulders.

I hold my hand out and wriggle my fingers. He takes my hand, allowing me to tug him out of his chair and onto my lap. I stroke his cheek and kiss him.

"I'm sorry, boy. It's not my place to question how you live your life."

He rests his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Daddy. You haven't said anything I don't already know. But can we change the subject now?"

"Of course. Do you want to move somewhere more comfortable?"

"I'd like that."

We take the wine and glasses to the lounge. We sit at opposite ends of the sofa, facing each other, our legs tangled, as we nurse our wine glasses.

"What's the nightlife like around here?" Harris asks.

"Non-existent beyond a few pints at the local pub. Given that it isn't all that local, I need to make them non-alcoholic pints."

"Okay, I have to ask. How did an ex-soldier who lives out in the sticks get into kink?"

I look him in the eyes and wait until he's sipping his wine to reply. "Porn."

He swallows the fruity red liquid despite coughing. "You got to watch a lot of porn in the army?"

"Yes. And of course I went to kink clubs when I was on leave."

"Oh. Of course."

"It was a lot easier when my parents lived in York. I'd stay with them and get a train to Leeds or Sheffield to go to clubs."

He strokes my shin with his foot. "You should go to the kink club in Manchester."

"Will I find you there?"

He smiles and rakes his teeth over his bottom lip. "Maybe. What are your hobbies, other than working out?" He finishes his wine.

I drain my glass and refill our glasses, emptying the bottle. I gesture to the room. "Decorating."

Harris snort-laughs. "Really?"

"No, but right now, decorating takes up most of my time."

"The house is going to look amazing when you've finished."

I arch an eyebrow. "And you're basing that on?—?"

"The hall, kitchen, and your bedroom."

I slip my hand up the leg of his jeans and stroke his shin. "I enjoy reading. We used to play football on base."

"I love football."

"Playing or watching?"

"Both. I used to be on the school team. And who doesn't love watching fit men running around a field for ninety minutes?"

I shrug. "I prefer watching rugby."

Harris hums. "Well, yes. There's lots more hugging in rugby."

"Don't you mean tackling?"

"That's what I said." He grins.

"I enjoy jogging."

Harris mock-gasps. "Me too. We should go jogging together tomorrow. While I'm waiting for a tow truck to arrive." The enthusiasm in his voice fades during the second statement.

"I'd like that."

The light returns to Harris's pretty blue eyes. He empties his glass and stares into it. "Do you have more wine?"

"Yes."

I stand, lean down to kiss him, take the empty bottle into the kitchen, and collect a full one. I pour each of us a glass and settle on the sofa again. Harris moves so he's lying between my splayed legs, with his back resting against my chest. He strokes my thigh as he sips the wine. I loop my arm around him and tickle my fingers over his forearm.

"What are your plans for your week in Scarborough?" I ask.

"I didn't really have any. I needed to get away, and Scarborough was the first place I thought of. We had a few holidays there when I was a kid. We spent most of our time on the beach, building sandcastles and splashing in the water. I'm probably a bit old for that now, and it's too cold."

"So your main priority this week is rest and relaxation?" Why am I asking him that?

"Yes."

"Harris—"

"Hmm?"

"That will be nice for you." I drink more wine.

"That's the hope. I'll jog. Probably not every day, despite my best intentions. Read. I'll go to the castle. If I want to run the risk of getting lost again, I might drive up the coast to Robin Hood's Bay and Whitby or down to Filey."

I kiss his temple. "Sounds like you'll have a lovely week."

"Yeah."

I sip more wine.

"And you'll be decorating, I expect?"

"Yes." It doesn't feel appealing.

"And ticking things off the to-do list we created, I hope?"

I chuckle. "Yes, boy."

"Good." He snuggles against my chest and drinks his wine.

"Harris—" The words I want to say die on my tongue again.

He downs his wine. "You like the sound of my name this evening, Daddy. I like the way you say it." He pours himself another glass and fills mine up.

"Harris." I bury my face against the crook of his neck and inhale.

He giggles. "Are you trying to seduce me, Daddy?"

"Do I need to try?"

"No."

Fuck it. It might be crazy, but I don't want to say goodbye. "Stay."

"Um, you already asked me to stay the night. Are you drunk, Daddy?"

I slosh my wine. "Not yet. A little tipsy, maybe. I've never been a big drinker."

"Me neither."

"I mean it, boy. Stay."

"Stay—?"

"Yes. Spend your holiday here. With me."

Harris runs his finger around the rim of his wine glass, creating a soft ring. Is he thinking about it? His silence is killing me.

"We've been getting along and having fun, haven't we?"

"Yes."

And yet he's not saying yes. I'm a fool.

"I'm sorry. It's a stupid idea. You've paid for a bed and breakfast for the week. You want to go to Scarborough."

He takes my wine glass, puts both on the floor, and kneels, facing me. He cradles my face in his hands. "Are you being serious, Daddy?"

I hold his wrists gently. "Yes, boy. I'd like you to stay."

He kisses me. "I could help you decorate. We could work on your business plan some more."

"Or we could relax and have fun together. I'd jog with you each morning. I could take you to Scarborough for a day. Or Whitby. Or Filey. Wherever you want to go. Whatever you want to do. Let me spoil you for the week, boy."

"Sounds amazing, Daddy, but you forgot something."

I arch an eyebrow. "I did?"

"Sex, Daddy. You forgot to say we'd have lots and lots of sex." He kisses me between each of the last five words.

I nuzzle his nose. "Yes, there will be lots of that. Will you stay?"

"Yes, Daddy, I'd love to."

My heart soars. "What about the bed and breakfast you've booked?"

"I'll ring in the morning and say I don't need the room anymore."

"Will you get your money back?"

"Probably not. But it doesn't matter. Something better came up. Something much better."

I put my arms around his back and smoosh his chest against mine. We kiss for a long time, our tongues dancing, our lips barely parting. Even our hums of pleasure are in tune. His eager lips and tongue taste of rich, fruity wine. He's staying. I don't have to say goodbye for a few days at least. I've never been so enchanted. Never been so lost. Yet in an odd way, it's as if Harris has found me.

"Let's go upstairs," I say.

"Gladly, Daddy."

I'd carry him, but I'm too tipsy for that. Instead, I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom, even though he knows the way.

"We've had too much to drink to play," I whisper as we tumble onto the bed in a mess of seeking hands and desperate lips.

"I know, Daddy."

We undress each other. I find lube and a condom. Then we lie in each other's arms, him stroking my cock, while I tease and warm up his arse. I need him. Fuck, do I need him.

"I want you inside me, Daddy. Now," he whines.

Is he ready for me? "Patience, boy."

He pouts. "I don't want to wait. I'm aching for you."

Damn. I'm aching for him too. My cock throbs with desire. I roll the condom on, slick my length up, push him onto his back, nudge his knees apart, and kneel between them. He's fucking glorious. I lean down to kiss him and weave my fingers between his. Not to hold him down. Biting and nipping are off the cards too. I don't trust myself to stay on the right side of pleasure and pain.

He wraps his legs around me and presses his heels against my lower back. "Need you, Daddy."

I stare into his beautiful eyes as I enter him. Slowly. Gently. He releases a soft gasp, his pupils dilating as my shaft eases deep inside him.

"Oh, Daddy." He squeezes my hands.

I smile and kiss him as I move my hips in short, slow rocks. I muffle his whimpers and moans with my lips. Delight in the little puffs of air he breathes into my mouth with each forward thrust of my pelvis. His channel is hot around my length. His legs hug me tight, drawing me deeper inside him. His heart flutters against my chest, delicate and delightful.

"Daddy."

I claim the word, swallowing it to lock it somewhere deep inside. I tighten my grip on his hands and brush my thumbs over his as I lengthen my strokes and quicken my pace.

"Daddy!"

Our mouths crash together, our lips fusing, our tongues tangling in the most delightful, toe-curling way. His hips rise and fall in time with mine, pulling me ever deeper inside him. We're eager. Desperate. Our breaths devolve into ragged pants, but still, we kiss. We move our hips in perfect rhythm. Cling on to each other's hands as though something is threatening to tear us apart. It's beautiful, needy, and raw.

I can't hold back. I kiss him through my orgasm. Hold him as he tenses and trembles, and cum splatters between us, hot and sticky on our heaving bodies.

I press my forehead against his collarbone, gasping as a million emotions swirl within me, powerful and intoxicating.

"That was wonderful. Thank you, Daddy."

I seek his lips out once more, thanking him with my mouth and tongue instead of words. "Do you mind if we stay like this for a while, boy? I want to stay inside you. Want to hold you."

"Mind? I'd fucking love it, Daddy."

I release his hands and hug him. He strokes my back and hair. We lie still long after our breathing returns to normal, our hearts have stopped pattering crazily, and his cum has cooled on our skin. My eyes become heavy. I move.

He pulls me close. "Don't go, Daddy."

"I need to clean you up, boy."

"Can we stay exactly as we are for longer, Daddy? Hold me."

"I can do that." I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be but in his arms, with my cock buried inside him.