21

21

Fen decided he wasn't going to give Ripley a chance to leave his side. If he could have held his hand, he would have done but he sensed Ripley wouldn't want that. Yet almost as if he knew how knotted Fen's stomach was getting, Ripley occasionally touched his arm or his back or shoulder in reassurance. All names Fen heard went in one ear and out the other. He really hoped it didn't matter. He was in awe of the house, which was totally amazing. His father probably lived somewhere like this. The thought annoyed him. I don't bloody care where he lives.

The huge Christmas trees in the hall and the lounge—both of them artificial—looked like something you'd see in a magazine featuring the homes of the rich and famous. They were perfectly decorated, and themed to within an inch of their lives. Rustic in the living room, with little wooden stars and ornaments, silver and blue in the hall. Presents were already piled beneath the one in the main room, wrapped in shiny paper with ribbons and bows. It all looked…false. Fen wondered if those who owned the house had done any of it.

He wanted to buy Ripley something for Christmas, except he'd made his feelings about this time of year quite clear. Still…Fen would think about it. He shook the hand of Matthew, who looked surprised when Fen had been introduced. Fen didn't bother wondering why. Ripley must have known about this party for ages but maybe only decided at the last minute to bring him. Cressida gave him a smile showing off her veneered teeth. Matthew dragged Ripley away to talk to someone and Fen tried to think what to say to her.

"One of my best friends is training to be a doctor at Guy's."

"That's where I work."

"Oh. Well, I'm not going to ask if you know him because that would be stupid."

She smiled. "What's his name?"

"Morgan Hughes."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"Phew."

"What's with the crutch? Injury?"

"Affectation. Or it might have been the kicking I had from a sheep."

She looked at him as if he were mad. Of course she did. He was an idiot. She excused herself to talk to someone less stupid, and Ripley came back. He introduced Fen to various people as they drank and ate exquisite canapés. Fen found himself edging closer and closer to the blazing log fire while he constantly fended off questions about his crutch. He knew people didn't mean to be nosey but there was no way he wanted to constantly explain his BMD.

No one was sitting on any of the couches and chairs, probably because they'd disturb the perfectly plumped cushions, but after Ripley had, yet again, been manoeuvred away to talk to someone else, Fen sat down. Even the distressed coffee table was a feature, with vases of different coloured Christmas sprigs sitting alongside an ordered pile of hardback books. Fen tilted his head to read the titles. The Cold War Deconstructed. Eat, Drink, Nap, Live. English Gardens. Simple Living. He almost snorted at the latter. This house was as far away from simple living as he could imagine.

"Injury?" asked a man who sat next to him.

No more, please! "Mountaineering accident." Fen mentally groaned. He wouldn't usually have let it get to him. But then he'd never been to a party like this. Maybe he'd become braver since he'd been with Ripley. This was the fourth person who'd asked and the fourth different answer Fen had given. Base jumping and being knocked down by a police car had been added to the sheep attack.

"You're younger than Ripley's usual type."

Fen's arms prickled. "He's a bit young for me, but he has lovely hair. I do like a good head of hair."

This guy was rapidly losing his.

"And a fat wallet?"

Arsehole. Before he was tempted to say that out loud,Fen pushed to his feet, slotted his arm in his crutch and looked for Ripley only to see him coming towards him.

"What did Spencer say?" Ripley asked.

"How do you know he said something?"

"Because I know him and you look pissed off."

"He said you were extremely lucky."

"I thought you didn't lie."

"I'm not. You are a lucky guy." But Fen told him what had been said and what he'd said too.

"He's a twat. Though he will have you down as a gold-digger now."

A bell rang and dinner was announced. Ripley led Fen through to a dining room where staff were waiting to show them to their places. They were two seats away from the head of the table. Unfortunately, the seat next to Fen was occupied by the man he'd just been speaking to.

"Fen you've already met Spencer, this is his wife Matilda," Ripley said.

Fen shook their hands. "Good to meet you."

"If only it was," Ripley said quite audibly.

Fen tensed but Spencer chortled.

"Can I take your crutch, sir?" asked a waiter. "I can put it against the wall behind you."

"Thank you." Fen handed it over and sat down.

"What happened?" Matilda asked.

"Shark attack," Fen said.

"Australia?"

"Scotland."

"You told me it was a mountaineering accident," Spencer said.

"I fell off a cliff into the sea and was attacked by a shark."

Ripley almost choked, but Spencer rolled his eyes and turned to his wife.

"Sorry," Fen whispered to Ripley.

Ripley put his hand on Fen's knee under the table and squeezed. "Just be you. Say what you like. Though I wonder if you'll run out of reasons to explain the crutch."

"I won't."

The meal was excellent, course after course of elegantly presented food. Several people complimented Cressida.

"Did she cook it?" Fen whispered.

"No. They use the same caterer every year."

"So all she did was choose a menu?"

Ripley shrugged.

Fen tried everything, but didn't eat much, nor did he drink a lot but he enjoyed listening to people talking to Ripley and didn't care too much that no one talked to him. In any case, they were discussing things he knew little about. Politics and the law.

"I didn't know you could get grapes that small," Fen said quietly when they brought out the cheese, which he'd refused.

"They're called champagne grapes." Ripley moved them from his plate to Fen's side plate. "Tiny, seedless and very sweet."

"Like me."

"Just like you.

Fen put one in his mouth and hummed. "Oh they're lovely."

"So what do you do for a living?" someone said.

Fen had just put more grapes in his mouth so he quickly chewed and swallowed.

"Matthew's talking to you," Ripley said.

"Sorry," Fen said. "I was in grape heaven. I repair and restore antiques."

Fen became aware the noise level in the room had lowered. Was everyone listening?

"Isn't repair the same as restore with an antique?" Cressida asked.

"When I'm restoring, as far as I'm able, I bring an item back to its original state. Repairing is making something functional again without major regard to its value as an antique."

"Which do you prefer?" she asked.

"Repairing. People are too quick to discard things they no longer see any need for when a little work can make them useful again. Whereas in restoration, damage can be part of an antique's charm; the wear on a walking stick handle, the faded patina on a table top, circular marks made hundreds of years ago by mugs and glasses. The real value in an antique is in the work of the person who first created it. Restoration mostly lowers the value."

"So you shouldn't restore?" she pressed.

"It depends. If you plan to resell, then the less you do the better. Heavy cleaning can damage a piece of furniture, or destroy a hallmark. But if it's something you bought because you liked it, you can do what you want with it, though you should take into account you might adversely affect its value. A tarnished silver plate might be worth more discoloured than brought back to its original shine."

"What do you think is the most valuable thing in this room?" Matthew asked.

"Your wife," Fen said instantly and there was a ripple of amusement.

"Good answer." Matthew kissed Cressida.

Fen had been gripping Ripley's hand tighter and tighter, though his grip eased when people laughed. Someone else took up the conversation and Fen relaxed.

"Well done," Ripley whispered.

Fen hadn't wanted to let Ripley down. He knew he was out of his depth.

Orders went in for post-dinner drinks though Fen didn't want one. Ripley asked for a sambuca and when the waiter set light to the glass of liquid topped with coffee beans, Fen froze.

"Is it supposed to do that?"

"Yes." Ripley put his palm over the top of the glass.

"Ouch. What are you doing?"

"Doesn't burn. Look." He showed Fen his hand. "No fuel for the flame."

"Okay. Why three coffee beans?"

"They represent health, happiness and prosperity. The flame toasts the beans." Ripley took a drink. "Have a taste." He handed the glass to Fen who sipped it.

"It's nice."

"Do you want one?"

"No. I'll probably tip the glass over, flames will shoot up my arm, and my hair will catch fire followed by the room. Could you have picked a more dangerous drink?"

Ripley laughed.

When they were back in the living room, Ripley introduced Fen to a sharp-suited man in his forties.

"Billy, meet Fen. Fen, this is Billy."

"The most important person in chambers," Fen said. "Good to meet you."

Billy's lips quirked. "Did he pay you to say that?"

"Damn it, you'd have paid me!" Fen glared at Ripley.

"Always best to get the money settled first," Billy said, then turned to Ripley. "I've heard decisions over silk are being made soon."

"How do you manage to hear everything before anyone else?"

"It's a skill. One you wish you had."

"True. You couldn't persuade William to come tonight?"

"He'd rather be tied to a chair with his eyes taped open and be forced to watch Match of the Day while being fed plain Pringles."

Fen chuckled. "But the meal was lovely and my interrogation was quite gentle really."

"Ah, you didn't warn him of what's to come, Mr Belmont?"

Fen clapped his hands to his cheeks. "Do we play Monopoly? Truth or Dare? Twister? Swap partners? Have an orgy? Do dangerous experiments?"

Both Ripley and Billy gaped at him.

"Which one is worrying you?" Fen asked.

"All of them," Ripley and Billy said together.

"Particularly Monopoly," Billy added. "This lot are cutthroat. Present company not excepted."

"Matthew and his wife like to come up with something different for entertainment after dinner," Ripley said. "And everyone has to take part. One year it was Truth or Dare—that got ugly. You'd think lawyers would know better. Whoever wins gets an exclusive week in August at the Armstrongs' fully serviced villa in Malaga, which is on a golf course and has a tennis court. And that prize includes private travel there and back."

"Seriously?" Fen gaped at him.

"Mr Burns has won for the last two years," Billy said.

"Spencer," Ripley said.

"Who ignored me throughout the meal."

Billy quietly growled.

"Let's try and win then," Fen said. Though he and Ripley wouldn't be together in August, so there'd be no trip to take. Don't think about that.

Someone tapped on a glass and the room fell silent. Matthew and his wife stood next to the Christmas tree.

"Thank you all for coming," said Matthew. "It's been another hugely successful year for us and that's down to everyone here tonight."

"Especially me," Billy whispered in Fen's ear. "And let's not forget the office staff who weren't invited. Oh dear, he has."

Fen glanced at him and smiled. I like him.

"We've come up with something different this year," Cressida said. "A couple of challenges. The first is drive a needle through a coin. We'll give each pair a hammer, snippers, a coin and a needle. Those who succeed go through to round two. Bend your needle and you're disqualified. Please use the hammers on top of the protective mats outside on the patio. I don't want the floor damaged. Everything else you require can be found in this room or the dining room."

"Ready, steady, go!" Matthew called.

"Have fun," Billy said. "I'm getting a drink."

Ripley sighed. "Me too."

"Come on," Fen said. "I know how to do this."

"I don't want the holiday."

"You want Spencer to win?"

"No."

"Then go and get the stuff. Make sure you pick a pre-1992 penny. I'll get the rest of what we need."

Fen had never actually done this before but it was something he'd read about. He pocketed a cork from the dining table, then collected two solid straight-edged pieces of wood from the basket by the fire in the lounge. Ripley came over to him.

"Outside now," Fen whispered.

He knew Spencer and his wife were watching and wondered if they'd seen him pick up the cork.

"Tell me what to do," Ripley said.

"Press the needle into the cork until it reaches the other end." Fen put the pieces of wood on the protective mat, setting them close together, then put the penny on top.

"Done." Ripley held it out.

"Now you need to snip off the eye bit of the needle so it's level with the top of the cork. Put the cork over the coin and hit it hard with the hammer."

Ripley sighed as if he didn't believe him but a moment later, he gasped. "Bloody hell."

"The needle can't bend because it's held by the cork, and steel is stronger than copper. Take it to Matthew."

Fen returned the bits and pieces to their places. When Ripley returned, much to Fen's shock, he pulled him into his arms. "Clever boy."

"You've only just noticed?"

"I've been dazzled by other bits of you."

Fen's cheeks heated.

There was no need for a round two. No one else managed to get the needle through the coin. One man almost drove it through his wife's finger.

"Ripley and Fen are the winners," Matthew said. "Well done!"

"Good thing Spencer and his wife don't have laser eyes," Fen said. "Or we'd be toast."

"I'm feeling a little warm."

"Have I made you unpopular?"

"Spencer has never been a fan of mine. We've come up against each other three times in court and he's lost on each occasion."

"Barristers in the same chambers can act on opposing sides in the same trial?"

"It's not uncommon. Sensible people don't hold grudges about it. We're merely doing our job."

"Can we go soon?"

Ripley glanced at his watch. "Harry will be outside in twenty minutes."

"Okay."

Cressida came over to them. "Very impressive."

"All Fen's doing," Ripley said.

"Lawyers tend not to be very practical. When I saw Ripley check the dates on the pennies, I guessed you might be able to do it."

"It wouldn't work with a new penny. There's hardly any copper in them," Fen said.

"Do you know much about coins?" she asked.

"Not really. I like really old ones though. We sometimes used to get those in the shop."

"You work in a shop?"

"I did. I'm self-employed now. Thank you for a lovely evening. The food was spectacular, as is your home."

"Very kind of you to say so. By the way, I've heard so many explanations for why you're using a crutch I'm beginning to wonder if you need it at all."

"I have muscular dystrophy."

Her eyes widened. "Duchenne's?"

"Becker."

"That's something. Sorry to hear it anyway." She patted his shoulder, then wandered off and Fen exhaled. Ripley put his arm over Fen's shoulders and hugged him.

"Do you actually want the holiday?" Fen asked.

"No."

Well, that solved the issue of Fen not being around.

"Do you?" Ripley added.

"Golf and tennis aren't my sort of thing." Though a free holiday was. "Can you give it to Billy instead?"

"You'd have to ask Matthew."

"Me?"

"The only reason we won was you. You ask. He's more likely to say yes to you."

Fen made his move when Matthew was crossing the room.

"Excuse me, Mr Armstrong."

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to be able to take up your offer of the villa holiday." He lifted his crutch. Read what you like into that. "Would it be possible to give it to Billy instead?"

"What's the issue?"

So his wife hadn't told him yet."I have a disease that causes progressive weakness and loss of muscle mass. No golf or tennis or anything like that for me. I'd rather Billy had it."

"Is Ripley in agreement?"

"He said it was up to me."

"You tell Billy he can have the week then."

"Thank you."

Ripley was talking to Billy when Fen went over. When Fen smiled, Ripley smiled back.

"Are you busy in August?" Fen asked.

"Me?" Billy frowned.

"I've asked your Head of Chambers if you could take the villa instead. He agreed."

Billy gaped at him. "What?"

"Pick your week and tell him."

"You're serious?" Billy looked from Fen to Ripley.

Ripley nodded.

"I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"Harry's outside," Ripley said.

"We need to leave before Ripley turns into a pumpkin." Fen grinned.

Fen's head fell against Ripley's shoulder before the car had reached the end of the street. He was holding Ripley's hand but was clearly asleep. Fen had surprised him tonight. Ripley had wondered whether to bring him, if Fen would feel awkward. He should have known better.

Though Ripley's motives weren't noble. He'd wanted people to see he'd got over Alejandro. He hadn't cared what anyone would think about Fen because he liked him and that was all that mattered. But…he'd discovered he did care what his colleagues thought if they upset Fen. Listening to one after the other question Fen about his crutch had irritated him. He was particularly annoyed by the way Spencer had spoken to Fen. If Ripley had actually heard Spencer say what he did, they'd have been having a few words of their own.

Despite thinking Matthew was a patronising dick, Ripley was glad he'd agreed to Fen's request. Even if he hadn't been aware he and Fen wouldn't still be together in August, he didn't want a week at Matthew's villa. He had no interest in competing for the trifles thrown their way. Ripley was happy to let Billy have it. He'd only met Billy's other half once, but thought he seemed a good match.

They were back in Islington before midnight and Ripley nudged Fen awake.

Fen jerked upright. "Power nap. Sorry. Did I fall asleep before I got in the car?"

"Not quite."

Ripley waited for Fen to get his balance after he'd climbed out before he shut the car door. "Thanks, Harry."

"Thank you," Fen added.

"You're welcome. Good night."

Harry drove off and Ripley followed Fen to the door, ready to support him if he wobbled.

"Why have a party on a weeknight when you have to go to work the next day?" Fen asked as Ripley opened the door and dealt with the alarm. "Was Matthew watching to see who drank too much?"

"It's possible. There were a few younger members who should have been more careful about the amount they consumed. As for the day of the party, well, work shuts down on Friday for a week. People will be leaving this weekend to spend time with family over Christmas so choosing a weekday means no excuse for not going."

"To admire his boundless generosity and his exquisite house."

"No fooling you."

"I need a shower." Fen started up the stairs. "I'll wash you if you wash me."

Words that hardened Ripley's cock.

"If you want," Fen added. "Or if you'd rather go to bed because you need your sleep due to being so much older than me, I'll understand."

"So says the guy who slept the entire way back."

Fen grinned. "I told you it was a power nap. I'm raring to go now. You should get…oooh…five energetic minutes before I conk out."

Moments later, they were entwined together under a torrent of hot water and Ripley wasn't sure if he could wait until they were in bed before he got inside Fen. He was slowly falling apart as Fen kissed him all over. Soap had been involved, but now Fen was down on his knees, licking Ripley's cock and turning his breathing ragged. That mouth… Ripley had his fingers in Fen's hair, holding tight as Fen sucked and licked and teased.

Water streamed down Fen's face, into his eyes and mouth and he was laughing and choking at the same time.

"Don't fucking drown," Ripley managed. "How the hell would I explain that to paramedics?"

Then he found himself bent over, hands on the tiles, his legs spread, with Fen's face against his arse.

Oh God. Oh fucking God…

Fen's tongue slid down the seam of his backside, then into the cleft and as Fen spread his arse cheeks wider, Ripley's knees shook. It had been so long since anyone had done this. Fuuuuck! He's licking… Fen's tongue lapped insistently at his hole, and it felt so bloody fantastic, so overwhelmingly filthy and yet so incredibly hot that Ripley couldn't believe he hadn't already come. Fen licked, then kissed, kissed then licked.

A slender finger joined Fen's mouth, then a hand wrapped around Ripley's balls, a thumb stroked up his cock and Ripley arched his back. I don't want to come yet. Not yet. So good… No matter how desperately he didn't want to come, it made no difference. Ripley lost it. His entire body jerked as he exploded against the tiles. He pressed his mouth into his arm to stop himself crying out, then wondered why he didn't want Fen to hear what pleasure he was bringing him. Except he suspected he knew why. Power and control were his, not Fen's. Right.

When his brain clicked back into gear, he turned, helped Fen to his feet and kissed him.

"That…" Kiss. "Was something else." Kiss.

"I've never done it before."

Ripley pulled him in tight so Fen couldn't see his face. "Can you stay upright a little longer?"

"Depends what you're going to do."

"I've never done it before either."

Fen whimpered. And kept whimpering when Ripley did what he'd never expected to do, never wanted to do until now. They ended up on the floor of the shower, water still pouring over them as Fen flailed.

"You've broken me," Fen mumbled. "Look! Arms and legs no longer work."

Ripley was breathing too heavily to speak. He switched off the water, wrapped a towel around Fen, dried himself, then picked Fen up.

"I was only kidding. I can walk. I wouldn't want you to do your back in."

"Shall I put you down?"

"I can massage your back better."

Ripley sighed and carried him to the bed.

This was more than sex.

Is that a bad thing or good?