The Beast of Bodmin Moor Page 14

  “Phin, are y—”

  “No…” he interrupted, which was rude, but Phin had done lots that was rude of late and Jake hadn’t seemed to mind. “I’m not hurt…” he murmured, still stroking. Ditto.

  “Y’wouldn’t fess up if you were…” Jake chuntered.

  “You’d know.” Phin shrugged. “I know you would. You just wanted to hear it out loud, as if that made it more true. It’s as true as the fact I would be just as glad it had happened if it cost me my last breath. So there.”

  “Don’t say that…” Jack groaned.

  “So there, or popping my clogs? They were facts so I ’fessed up. You just have a bit of a bee in your bonnet about admitting stuff.”

  “Don’t tempt…fate.”

  ‘Fate’ was a fib, but Phin did playing along. He was good at ‘Go Fish’. “Why? D’you think I’ll get smited?” He did his best not to grin, but it was quite dark in the nook.

  “I think you’d dare the devil himself.”

  “Only if it was worth it,” Phin owned, while he was on a roll, an’ all, “or p’raps, if I was bored.”

  “Phin…” Jake growled. A despairing one. Not at himself.

  “It’s very sexy when your voice goes all growly.” Oops, the snowball situation was getting out of hand. Ah well, at least the question burning a hole in Phin’s head hadn’t thawed its way free.

  “Oh fuck…”

  “Can we do that next?” Oh. Dear.

  “Christ…” Jake let his forehead crash onto Phin’s chest. With a groan like the clang of a dungeon door.

  “Oops…should I not have said that?”

  “I need a drink. And a gun.”

  “My mum always said I’d get myself shot.” Phin did a sigh. A ‘regretful’ one. He hoped.

  “I didn’t intend to shoot you.” Jake humphed.

  “Well, I’m glad I haven’t got a gun, then. I don’t want to die a virgin.”

  “WHAT!?” A whiplash reaction as swift as it was fulsome.

  “I haven’t ever—”

  “I know that…but why the hell would you die a virgin? You are the most encha—”

  “I knew you’d know…” Phin butted in, too abashed to wait for the worst. “I’m sorry…was it very dreadf—”

  “God. No!” Jake snapped, the blue ablaze in the semi-darkness. “Don’t ever think that. Phin, you drive me demented.”

  “I am very irritating.” Phin acknowledged, stifling a sigh that might sound ‘sad’ to Jake when Phin was just telling the truth.

  “No! I meant…oh, shit.” Jake’s fingers snagged in his hair when he tried to do raking them through it. “I meant…demented in the desperate sense. I’ve never craved—” Jake broke off a bit abruptly to prompt; “You didn’t answer my question. What did you mean about dying a virgin?”

  “If you shot yourself.” Phin didn’t beat about the bush, in hopes of hearing what Jake had never craved, all the sooner.

  “Y’what?!” he gaped, agog. Heaven knows why, when it was a fact, pure and simple. Jack sure couldn’t wind his hips like that if he was dead. “You’d meet someone else—someone far better than me—you can’t say that!”

  “I won’t—I don’t want them—I just did,” Phin rattled off, with a shrug. This was the most pointless chat on the planet. His mind was not a pair of pants or a jumper.

  “Phin, listen to me. I don’t want you to feel—”

  “And I don’t want to be a virgin, but you won’t listen…”

  “Grrr…”

  “Grr…y’self. I thought you wanted a drink?”

  “I do,” Jake huffed.

  “Then stop huffing ’n’ puffing so I can go and fetch it.”

  “You’re impossible.” Jack snuffed out a fringe fluttering breath and hefted himself off Phin’s body. The cold cosh of loss was more than a mite abated by the liberal smears of sticky adorning Phin’s skin. Theirs. Not his. He was p’raps grinning like a loon while he did lowering himself to the floor.

  After grabbing a couple of cloths, Phin dipped them into the bowl and did squeezing one out for Jack, then stood under the nook and held it aloft, waving it like a peace flag. Jake was chuckling when he whipped it from Phin’s fingers, which made the grin stretch to ear-licking levels. After pouring two tumblers of brandy, Phin raised them above his head and waited for Jake to retrieve them before clambering back up.

  The fact it was tricky to recall the last time Phin had crawled into bed not wearing half his nightcap was a cherry on top. On that particular topic? It might be best not to confess the scoundrelly shimmer of hope in his heart…

  24. Jake

  He would recognise Phin’s footfall entering the Albion on a busy Friday night, Jake realised, anticipating its rhythm as Phin returned to the alcove. Nevertheless, it was not the tufty top of his head that appeared at the edge of the bed, it was a hand wafting a wet white cloth.

  A flag of surrender; grimly ironic, when only one occupant of this van was succumbing to the wishes of the other two…and his own, of course. Jake still found himself chuckling as he plucked the cloth from Phin’s fingers to swipe across his chest. Deducing that one scent was distinguishable from the other elicited a ‘no shit, Sherlock’ from the subs bench.

  You’ll find yourself substituted as sharpish as your cutting ‘wit’, if you don’t watch it. You’re on borrowed time, as it is. Mine.

  You seriously expect me to believe you’d prefer to be out prowling the moors?

  I’d need your head looking at, if I did. I’m not dogged in denial.

  Why the hell were you so insistent on staying? It makes no bloody sense. None whatsoever. You’re prepared to risk his life? Really?

  No…which should suffice as answer to the rest of your rantings.

  I don’t trust you.

  You never did.

  That makes less sense than sausages for supper.

  ∞∞∞

  Nothing wreaked upon Jake in the last two years suggested that Jack could, or would, put Phin’s safety before his instincts. A fact that left Jake tightrope walking between the jackal and his whisperer—with Phin’s life on the line—rather than his own. About all Jake could do, was hope. Vehemently. Hope for what, though? Neither one would give in, Jack had made that quite clear…and Phin was as dogmatic as the jackal. Worse still, their unholy trio all wanted exactly the same thing. Jake was buggered if he did and buggered if he didn’t…despite neither miscreant being dead set on that particular outcome.

  Two tumblers of brandy were next to appear at the alcove opening.

  “Thanks,” Jake retrieved them and retreated deeper into their nook so that Phin could climb in without upending the lot with an unwieldy limb.

  “Hiya…” The top of Phin’s head and eyes peered over the edge of the mattress like an anime-style Chad, no doubt emblazoned with the legend: “Wot no Fuck?”

  Much to Jake’s amusement, Phin did succeed in wrangling his excessive self into the alcove without knocking their drinks flying. Fortuitous in itself, when it didn’t seem likely that Jake might lie back and allow them to wind up lying in a lake of brandy. Snatching two glasses out of mid-air—before they spilled—might strike even Phin as somewhat extraordinary. Once settled safely on his side, Jake handed Phin his tumbler and mirrored his position, which left them facing one another, heads propped on bent elbows.

  “Will you still be here when I wake up?” Phin asked, in a voice as soft as it was hesitant.

  “I hadn’t intended to leave. Why d’you ask?”

  “I wasn’t being greedy, I promise. I just…like to know stuff…so I don’t get scratchy.” Phin cast his eyes downwards, stealing his gaze away.

  “Asking someone if they’re about to bugger off while you’re asleep doesn’t count as gluttony,” Jake assured him.

  “I’m glad. I just didn’t want you to think I was doing hinting…” Phin was staring into his brandy as if all the secrets of the universe swirled in its depths. Was he avoiding Jake’s gaze, for f
ear of seeing censure there? Or safeguarding his own?

  “Most people are greedy…they just don’t admit it aloud. Quite the contrary, they do their damnedest to conceal their avarice…” Jake murmured, “Self-restraint is the toughest subterfuge…more folk cheat than you’re crediting them with, Phin. Almost everyone lives a lie, in one form or another.”

  “Why?” Phin’s nose wrinkle suggested an assault by a malodorous stench.

  “Either to fit in…or play the role they aspire to, I guess.”

  “That’s a bit daft…like borrowing uncomfy clothes or swanning about in a swanky suit. I would feel scratchy enough to tear my skin off.”

  “Or hack away at it…” Jake sighed, glancing at the gash that might never have been. All that lingered was a score line, now pillow-crease pink.

  “That doesn’t work…only if I’m miffy with myself.” Phin corrected him, with an honesty few were prepared to turn upon themselves.

  I doubt he has a choice, dipshit. Do keep up.

  “But you’re not greedy…except p’raps for bacon and brandy. Sooo. You either fibbed when you said you wanted me, you’re cheating…or you have superhuman self-restraint.”

  Superhuman. Strewth…excuse me while I fall off my legs laughing.

  Ha. Ha. I can’t even argue, you snarky git.

  If it makes you feel better, we do ship super/human. I am super…and you’re sort of h—

  Yes—Thank you for the breakdown. Not. I am familiar with the lingo.

  Colour me stunned…I never noticed the thirty-seven Johnlock fics you inhaled last month. By the way, if you ship our names…you get Ja/ke or Ja/ck. Odd that.

  *

  “Even if you fibbed, I still wish you were greedy enough to do forgetting self-restraint. It never ends well, much like dieting t’death…or sticking a cork up your bum.” Phin managed to opine this with an expression so sage, it made prequel Yoda appear foolish. The corker? Was added after a nanoseconds pause for reflection. “Not in a fun way.”

  “Oh, I am. That’s what worries me…” Jake muttered, half to himself.

  “I don’t believe you…no, that’s not quite right. My guts do believing you…but my head doesn’t.”

  “Wanting something and taking it aren’t mutually exclusive,” Jake sighed. “I want a lot of things I can’t have.”

  “But you can have me, so I’m not one of them,” Phin shrugged.

  “If only. It’s not that easy…”

  “Why? I clearly am. You said you’re not married…and you are not-a-jot impotent. I-I just…” Phin trailed off, rolling his eyes roofwards, as if an alternate reason might be spray-painted up there. “I’ve already done choosing, so it doesn’t matter what you say. I can’t do unchoosing afterwards. And that’s that. I’ve gone giddy now, shall we go to sleep?”

  “Sure…beats slamming my head against a brick wall.”

  “I think that’s supposed to sound like a metaphor…but…it isn’t. D’you do that very often?”

  “Only when I’m pissed off with myself,” Jake admitted. He couldn’t bring himself to tell him any more lies tonight.

  “I think you’re more dangerous to yourself than you are to me…” Twin pools of molten brown all-but bore holes in Jake’s soul.

  “I just…really don’t want to prove you wrong.” A dip of Jake’s head made his hair fall forwards obligingly. Concealing the treacherous sting of his eyes.

  “I wasn’t wrong about Foxy. You were worried he would hurt me, too…but then, animals like me better than people, so…” An impish grin brought all such observations to an abrupt close. For which, Jake thanked his unlucky stars. Profusely. “I’ll go and turn the lamp off, ’kay?”

  “’Kay,” he croaked.

  ∞∞∞

  I hope you’re bloody satisfied.

  Jack just regarded him with an unblinking stare…and the blatant belief that only one occupant of the bed was making a fuck awful mess of everything.

  The light flicked off, then Jake watched Phin clamber up to join him; a lavish streak of ivory gleaming in darkness that wasn’t dark at all…unless Jake closed his eyes. Phin crawled beneath the duvet and lay on his side, facing inwards; arms bent, hands tucked beneath his chin. He didn’t reach out, nor brush Jake accidentally—or otherwise—which felt more bruising than being jabbed with a lethal joint. It was unbearable. Those lustrous eyes were scrunched so tight, it seemed that keeping them shut took more effort than holding them open at five a.m.

  Jake found himself reaching out—to brush aside a few tufty strands of fringe—apparently. Phin’s lids popped apart, revealing big brown orbs that defied their own darkness. As glossy as liquid glass. The apple-strudel scent of hope that flooded Jake’s senses was impossible to defy. He leaned in…until his nose nudged Phin’s, then paused, waiting. It had to be his choice after being rebuffed. A whisper of brandy-warm breath bathed Jake’s face as Phin lifted his chin, just a touch. Enough, to grant Jake access to cherry-ripe lips. Their mouths melted together and for an endless moment neither moved, nor spoke. Even the air seemed to still.

  The jackal sat silent sentry.

  Despite knowing damn well how ludicrous it was, Jake still felt as if his entire life had led to this… sultry shimmer of quietude as dawn hovered on the horizon. He could neither describe nor define it, just knew that it was. Nothing whatsoever happened. Yet everything did. Only the dual thud of their heartbeats bore witness to Jake’s epiphany.

  The jackal just sniffed, a snort of sound which bore a startling resemblance to… do keep up, shit for brains.

  “Jake?” Phin whispered, their lips but a breath apart. “Can we do spooning? I think I’d like that. A lot.”

  “Sure,” he chuckled. “Are you turning over, or me?”

  “You, please. Um, that will fit better.”

  “The real reason, please?”

  “What makes you think I fibbed!?” Phin gasped. Innocence personified.

  “Instinct. What mischief are you up to?”

  “I’m not! Hmph. I just…if you were pressed back there my brain would explode. Oh…and your bum is luscious.”

  “Luscious. Oh gawd,” Jake groaned.

  “Yup…it’s a lush tush. I don’t have any more reasons, so stop fishing and turn over. I have no nefarious plans afoot…” The latter was intoned with lofty aplomb. Utterly incorrigible.

  “That, I suspect, would be a first. Okaaay,” Jake huffed. After dropping a kiss on the end of Phin’s nose, he turned to face the wall, grinning to himself when an arm was curved across his waist. After shuffling closer till their skin fused, Phin curled around Jake’s back, tucking bony knees into the crook of his own. The hip wriggle that followed almost finished him off. Jake froze—with an entirety that suggested lock down—as if some internal security system had been triggered. One so select, exclusive, its very existence was classified information. Clearly. A rumble Jake was not responsible for, vibrated in his throat.

  “Hmm…I love that noise,” Phin murmured into his hair. “G’night Jack, I’m glad you stayed. Too much methinks.”

  “As am I…g’night.”

  Jake conked out almost the moment he closed his eyes. For all the world as if someone, somewhere, finally thought he’d suffered enough.

  25. Phin

  Phin sighed, snuggling deeper into his pillow, listening to Jack’s snuffly breaths as he slept. He had gone out like a light, so he must have been pooped.

  While his own head was all whizzy, it wasn’t in a tired way, despite taking his tablets. There was just too much stuff stomping about in there. Not least the fact that snoozing through the spooning, rather than savouring it, was too sacrilegious to contemplate.

  Jack seemed softened by sleep, stripped of his insistence on being mad, bad, ’n’ dangerous to Phinkind. Yet sometimes—Phin had done some concentrating—he saw glints of something sharp buried beneath his hypercontrol…biting into soft flesh with wince-worthy cruelty. Perhaps that explained why he was so careful, con
trolled; guarding every movement, lest it gouged deeper and betrayed his pain. As silver-sharp as a blade, it felt a lot like loathing to Phin. A smidge akin to his own scratchy…but different. Harsher, meaner, spiteful…but not in the outward way Jake claimed. It was self-directed. He was as dangerous as he feared. To himself.