15

Ilya didn't know what to make of Julien. He'd chatter in a way that made Ilya think he was warming up, then he'd go cold again. Well, not cold exactly, but distant. All Ilya could think of to do was be his normal self and if Julien didn't respond, then at least Ilya would know whether his lust was going to stay unrequited. Julien was an enigma. If they hadn't shared that moment on the phone, maybe Ilya would have given up, but they had and he wasn't giving up. Not yet anyway. There was something hidden inside Julien and Ilya wanted to touch it, free it.

Oh God. Listen to me. For a brief moment, he thought of Arkady. That one shared kiss had let Arkady hope and it was Ilya's fault. But he sort of understand Arkady's obsession now.

By the time they'd reached the cottage, Ilya was exhausted. Walking through shifting sand for the last stretch had tired him out. He bent to take off his boots by the door, went a little lightheaded and leaned on the wall. "I need to lie down."

He almost asked Julien to come and lie down with him, but…

"Then go and lie down. I was going to make spaghetti bolognese for dinner. That okay?"

Ilya nodded.

"Your bedroom's the one on the left."

"Thank you."

"Left,"

Julien called as Ilya deliberately reached for the wrong door handle.

"Sorry."

He wanted to think Julien had been watching his arse but more likely, he just wanted to be sure he went into the right room. Ilya's case stood in the corner by the wardrobe. Even though he was tired, he unpacked his things. He didn't have much. He hung up his clothes and slipped his iPad and phone under the bed. He was too tired to look at them now. The bag of Lego figures went with them. He'd give those to Julien later.

Ilya stripped to his underwear and curled up under the covers, pulling a corner of the duvet into his fist. He started to think of what he'd make with the wire. Little animals. Birds. An otter. Mice. Fish. Maybe he could sell them in a local town. He'd enjoy making a living that way. Though he'd have to be making a lot and selling in multiple outlets before he earned enough to support himself.

How long was Julien going to let him stay?

Is my father still looking for me?

Once his mind had started to run, he didn't think he'd sleep, but he did.

When Ilya woke, it was getting dark outside. He used the bathroom, had a wash, pulled on a T-shirt and jeans, and put the Lego figures in his pocket. He found Julien lying stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed. The creases in his face had gone. He no longer looked sad or stressed. Ilya could have looked at him for ages, but maybe that was a bit creepy. So while he waited for him to wake up, he sat at the table and, with one of the rolls of wire and a pair of pliers, he made a seagull with outstretched wings.

He was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't notice Julien had woken until he felt him at his back, his breath hitting his neck. Every nerve ending in his body flickered to life.

"You've just made that?"

Julien sounded incredulous. "How long have I been asleep? Three days? It's a fantastic eagle."

Ilya growled. "It's a vulture and it comes to life when it eats living flesh. You should worry."

Julien sat at his side. "How sturdy is it?"

"You could bend it if you wanted to, but if handled gently, it'll keep its shape."

Julien turned it in his hand. "Is this what you did in St Petersburg?"

"I designed and made jewellery, and taught engraving and enamelling. But in my spare time, I liked making things similar to this. If they were for the shop, I'd have put precious stones into them. This seagull would probably have brown diamonds for eyes, or maybe smoky quartz or tiger's eye. Though, I could put in any polished stones really."

"If you need anything else from Amazon, just tell me. Though not diamonds."

Ilya put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the Lego figures. "These are what I got for you in Battersea."

Julien laughed when he saw them. He stood up the one in morning dress. "Me when you first saw me. This is normal me."

The one in grey. "And Superman because…?"

"Because you are. To me."

Desire raged through him like a wildfire. You are my superman.

Julien laughed when Ilya had wanted him to gulp and simmer, then kiss him. Darn it.

"The one for your keyring is either you after you've fallen into a bag of Skittles or it's me."

"It will remind me I need some colour in my life. Thank you! Right. Ready to eat? Well, once I've cooked the spaghetti. And have you taken your medication?"

"Yes to food and no, not yet. I'll get it."

"Stay there. I'll bring it over."

Julien brought him a glass of water and the bag from the hospital. "What have they given you?"

"Just a course of antibiotics."

"No wine for you then. I did get you something to drink."

Julien went over to the fridge, filled a tumbler with ice and added half the contents of a small bottle. He turned on the heat under a saucepan, then brought the drink to Ilya.

"It smells like mojito."

"Taste it."

Ilya laughed. "It tastes like mojito."

"But has no rum in it."

"It's lovely. You heard me tell the princess in pink that it was my favourite drink?"

"Yes, though I didn't know if you meant it."

"I did. It was the only thing we had in common. She was supposed to be my carefully selected future bride."

"How were they going to make you say yes at the appropriate moment?"

Ilya shrugged. "I have no idea. Drug me? Threaten someone if I didn't cooperate? To be honest, if they'd threatened to strangle a puppy, I'd have said yes. I don't like anyone to be hurt. Animals or random strangers. My father sees that as a weakness. I think compassion is a strength."

"He couldn't make you stay with her."

"Not unless we had to live at Sandridge. I don't know what he was thinking. I felt sorry for Emilia. What was she going to get out of it? Money maybe? Married for a few years, then a quick divorce? A bit of work with a turkey baster and my father might have had grandkids. Was that the plan? Maybe she was going to be forced into it too. My father could have threatened her family. Or perhaps I just wanted her not to be an evil money-grabbing bitch and maybe she was."

Julien went back to the hob and put spaghetti into the now boiling water.

"Will you tell me why you're no longer a doctor?"

"No."

"Why you steal stuff for a living?"

"No."

"Do your parents know you're a thief?"

"No."

"What do they think you do?"

"Insurance."

"That's a sort of theft. They never pay out as much as you hope."

"But people try to cheat companies by making bogus claims and anyway, I'm not working in insurance."

"Okay. Do you want to kiss me?"

He ought to have asked that when Julien was facing him so he could have registered his reaction. Ilya wasn't surprised when Julien neither turned nor answered.

"At least tell me why you're helping me."

Ilya had just about given up hope of getting an answer when Julien spoke.

"I've always tried to do the right thing. To be a good brother, a good son. I worked hard. I wanted to make my parents proud. But…other people saw a situation differently to me and my life careered out of control. I want to help you because it's the right thing to do. For once, maybe I can make a difference in a good way."

Ilya hadn't missed that gap when Julien had spoken. There was something more to it than doing the right thing. But even for a pushy guy like him, Ilya knew when to stop.

Dinner was delicious, and Ilya was relieved Julien hadn't given him too large a portion.

"Why does your father choose to live in the UK instead of Russia?"

Ilya had been relaxed until that point. Maybe Julien was giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"He has a home in Russia too. He'd never admit it, but he likes England better. He can look more important here. Live in a big house, have his daughter married to some distant member of the royal family. Make sure his son's not gay. He's playing at being respectable, though he's not."

"Do you know anything about his business interests?"

"Not as much as he wishes I did. Some of what he does is legit. Oil, chemicals, agriculture, timber. The other side isn't. Oil, chemicals, agriculture, timber."

He chuckled.

"When sanctions were introduced against Russia—and by the way, I'm on Ukraine's side—he probably diversified to other industries. I think, but I have no proof, that he does private deals for people in the Kremlin and other rich Russians, as well as for businessmen in this country. He's probably spying for both sides, precariously lining his pockets, and he wants to use me in some way. Real gem of a father. And he came from nothing."

"Really?"

For someone who didn't even want to think about his father, he knew he was saying too much. Though what did it matter? If he dropped back into his father's clutches, he'd likely end up dead. "His parents were poor. They died when I was eleven. I met them when I went to Russia during the summer holidays. My father could have afforded to buy them a better place to live but he said they didn't want him to. I wonder now if they were ashamed of him. They were always kind to me, happy to see me, but we never stayed longer than a day.

"My mother was English. I vaguely remember her parents buying me a pony just before she died. I don't know what happened to it. My father told me that they hadn't wanted her to marry him, and she had nothing to do with them after she had. I wish I could remember my mother. Sometimes I have these images in my head of a woman with kind eyes throwing me up in the air and catching me, but I don't know if I'm making that up."

"Are her parents still alive?"

"I was about eight when my father told me they'd died."

He huffed.

"Did she have any brothers and sisters?"

"My father said not."

"How did your mother and father meet?"

"She got into trouble in the sea at a resort in the south of France and he saved her. That's what he said. I have no way of knowing if it's the truth. You're frowning. What are you thinking?"

"I'm still wondering why he was so insistent on you not being gay."

"And what would your father think if you told him that you were gay?"

He received no answer to that question. In part, Ilya understood why a parent might not want to hear that news from their child. Life wouldn't be easy. No one wanted their kid to struggle with prejudice. At least things were better now than they had been, though not in Russia.

Ilya started to help fill the dishwasher until Julien told him he was doing it wrong, so he went and lay on the couch with his arms behind his head, the hem of his T-shirt pulled up so he was exposing a strip of skin. He hoped it looked accidental, just like the scratching of his hip bone under the waistband of his jeans.

He was pretty sure Julien glanced at him, but not certain. So he rolled onto his front, hugged a cushion and stuck his legs in the air. Did that do anything for his arse or not? He dropped his legs.

"Are you about to hump the couch?"

Julien asked. "Don't make a mess."

"I'll clean it up."

"Go to bed."

Ilya rolled over again. "You coming with me?"

"No."

When Julien started to walk off, Ilya said, "Can I call you if I need you?"

Julien turned to look at him. "Why would you need me?"

He could think of a lot of reasons. Any one of which might be the reason his cock was thickening. "I might see a ghost."

"You're on your own with a ghost."

"But you're Superman."

"Switch the lights off."

Julien disappeared into his room.

Ilya flicked them off and went to bed, but left his door open. He left the bathroom door open too, but there was no sign of Julien.

Once he was lying in bed, he thought about what else he could try. Naked sleepwalking? Crying out after a bad dream? Just climbing into Julien's bed?

Maybe he doesn't fancy you.

Ilya did not need to listen to that voice. There was something between them. It wasn't even tension; it was a feeling that the wires running between them were waving around, trying to connect and when they did, everything would light up. It would happen sooner or later, and Ilya wanted it to be sooner, so he made the first move. He took out his new phone, put Julien's number in his contacts under 24601, took a deep breath and called him.

"Hello?"

"Don't panic. It's me. I bought a phone."

"I was hoping you hadn't stolen it."

"I'm not the thief."

Julien laughed. "That trick with the borscht? Again in the car?"

"Were you impressed?"

"Yes. So, what's wrong? Did you want something and you're too lazy to get up and get it?"

Sort of. "I wanted to talk to someone and I only have your number."

Though he had others in his head.

"Which you remembered, which is also impressive."

"I always remember important things. I switched the lights off."

"Right."

"You'll be glad to hear there are no ghosts."

"The night is still young."

Ilya whined. "Are you busy?"

"Rereading Les Misérables."

He turned on his husky voice. "What are you wearing?"

"Nothing."

Ilya gulped. "Did you hear that gulp or should I have made it louder?"

"I heard it."

"Do I have to beg?"

"Night, bratkin."

"No! Talk to me."

"You need to sleep."

"My hand's around my cock,"

Ilya blurted.

Julien didn't say anything, but he didn't end the call. Ilya kicked off the covers.

"Oh God, I'm so hard."

Ilya moaned dramatically. "There's a tiny pearl of precome forming at the tip and I can't make up my mind whether to lift it off with my finger or let it roll down to my balls. It makes me shudder when I do that." The next moan was real. Oh fuck.

Julien stayed quiet.

Say something! But he didn't, so Ilya did.

"I don't have any lube. I'm licking my fingers. I was going to buy lube…and condoms at Battersea but I decided I needed to get back to your place before I collapsed. I'm guessing you need jumbo sized."

He paused. "Like me."

Julien gave a quiet laugh and Ilya's heart surged.

"I need to use my other hand. I'm going to put the phone on the pillow near my head. One hand's around my balls, the other's around my cock, the other is up my arse. Oh God. Not really. Not without lube. And I don't have three hands, that would be cool. My fingers are moving up and down on my cock and I'm dragging my other hand over my abs and my thighs."

He began to breathe more shallowly. I am so turned on!

"It feels good. I wish I had a butt plug so I could fuck myself. Hard."

Oh God, I wish I did. "I'm wet now. Precome all over my fingers. There's such a lot of it. I'm stroking the head, ooohh, dragging a finger around the ridge, over the top… Ahhh. I wish you were doing this to me."

Ilya didn't expect to be this close, this quickly, but knowing Julien was listening thrilled him.

"I can feel a buzzing in my groin,"

Ilya whispered. "I could drag this out…" He really couldn't. "I want to keep edging for a while, but I need to come so bad. Yes, yes… Oh fuck."

His vision blurred and come spurted over his hands and chest as he gasped through the orgasm. So good. And it would have been so much better if he'd opened his eyes to see Julien standing there watching him.

"Want to lick my dick?"

Ilya whispered.

He heard an intake of breath but there was no answer.

"I haven't made a mess on the bed."

"Good."

Still there then.

"If you like, you can subscribe to my YouTube channel. How to make Julien hot and bothered."

Julien chuckled.

"What are you thinking?"

Ilya really wanted to know.

"That I shouldn't have let myself get to like you so much. Night, bratkin."

"Night."

Not quite the way Ilya had wanted this to play out, but it was a step in the right direction.