Make Me Soar (19 page)

Dorian wiggled his fingers until a spasm of pain crossed his face. “Better than it was, but not if I move it too much.”

Alan gazed levelly at him. “Then don’t move it,” he said dryly. He didn’t break eye contact, and Dorian’s cheeks glowed. Alan laughed. “That’s you off kitchen duties for a while. Get dressed and we’ll go downstairs and get warmer.” He rubbed his arms briskly. “It’s freezing in here.”

Dorian nodded and left the bedroom. Alan finished dressing quickly. A glance at the clock told him it was only eight thirty. He took one more look into the street, where his neighbor, Bill, was still valiantly trying to give his adorable dog, Penny, her morning walk. Alan chuckled to himself. He’d bet anything that Miss P detested the snow. She was a dainty dog with gorgeous shiny fur who always greeted Alan with enthusiasm whenever he met her and her master in the street. More often than not she carried one of her toys in her mouth. Alan particularly liked the dinosaur.

When he’d finished in the bathroom he hurried downstairs and into the kitchen to put on the coffee. Once it was bubbling away, he went into the lounge and started assembling the fire. It wasn’t long before the kindling was burning merrily, the first flames licking hungrily over the logs. There was little noise from outside; gone were the familiar sounds of passing traffic. It was as if the outside world slept.

Dorian came into the room and sat immediately on the rug in front of the fire. “This is lovely.”

Alan loved the look of contentment on Dorian’s face. He walked over to him and stroked his hair. When Dorian turned his face upward, Alan smiled at him. “You stay here and get warm. I’ll make us some porridge for breakfast.” Dorian pulled a face, and Alan tut-tutted. “It will keep you going
and
warm you up, so I’ll have no complaints, okay?” He gave Dorian a mock glare.

“Yes, Sir,” Dorian said with a sigh of resignation.

Alan hid his smile as he left the lounge. In the kitchen he got out the oats and milk and measured out enough for two portions. He didn’t add sugar but instead reached into the fridge for the jar of honey. As he put the oats and milk into the microwave, a thought occurred to him.

“Did you call Pietro last night?”

A moment later Dorian appeared in the doorway. “No.” His face was flushed. “I was going to, but then I….”

He lowered his gaze, and Alan understood instantly.

“That’s okay,” he said quickly. “Make sure you call him today, though.” Dorian nodded before disappearing back into the lounge. Alan had an idea what lay at the root of the sub’s embarrassment. Dorian was probably ashamed to speak to Pietro, especially if his friend demanded to know what had been going on. Alan knew Leo wouldn’t have said a word, but Dorian wouldn’t know that for certain. Alan’s stipulation that Dorian was not to go back to Collars & Cuffs until he said so was made to give the lad time to put the episode behind him. It was true that time was a great healer, but Alan intended to give a helping hand too.

The microwave pinged, interrupting his reflections. He removed the porridge and spooned it into two bowls before adding honey. Alan took the bowls through into the lounge, where it was warmer. Dorian was sitting in front of the fire, his phone on the table beside him. Alan handed him the bowl and then sat on the couch.

Before he’d taken a mouthful, the quiet of the lounge was disturbed by the phone’s strident tone. Dorian gave him an apologetic glance, placed the bowl on the coffee table, and then answered the call.

“Hi… yeah, I know, I’m sorry… my phone was dead….”

His chin dropped to his chest, and he turned away, but Alan saw him tense up while he listened to the caller.

“Look, I said I’m sorry….” Then Dorian straightened. “When was this?” A pause. “Did he say what he wanted?” Another pause, this time longer. “Okay, yes, text it to me. And Pietro? I really am sorry…. No, I won’t be at the club for a while.” He lowered his head once more. “Okay. Yes, I promise. Bye for now.”

He finished the call and put down the phone with a sigh that tugged at Alan’s heart. In silence Dorian picked up his spoon and began to eat his porridge slowly, wincing at the heat of that first mouthful.

Alan regarded Dorian closely. He ate almost mechanically, staring into the fire, his forehead furrowed. Alan let the silence continue for a minute or two until it became obvious that Dorian was lost in his own thoughts, and they were clearly not good ones.

“What did Pietro say to make you so pensive? I got it that he wasn’t happy.”

Dorian jerked his head up. “Yeah, he was really pissed off at me. But then he told me a guy had come to the club, looking for me.”

“Oh?” Alan forgot his porridge and stared at Dorian. “Who?”

“Remember I mentioned my first boyfriend, Justin? Well, he turned up at the club last week, asking for me. Pietro spoke to him, and Justin gave him his phone number to pass on to me. Apparently he wants me to get in touch with him.” Dorian’s frown deepened. “We haven’t been in touch in nearly six years, so why now?”

Alan was asking himself the same question, but Dorian’s distracted air overrode his curiosity. “You’re not about to call him now. That can wait until you’ve eaten your breakfast—and not even then, if you don’t want to.”

His priority was Dorian’s well-being, mental as well as physical, and the call seemed to have shaken him. He was relieved when Dorian nodded, albeit absently, and started eating again. Alan ate his breakfast in silence, going over and over in his mind what he could do to get Dorian to relax. His mood had improved. The last thing Alan wanted was something to set him back, especially when they were making progress. He’d been encouraged by their conversation at the hospital. He felt for the first time that he’d really gotten through to Dorian.

Then he had an idea, one that made him smile internally.

Oh, this is going to be good
.

He waited until Dorian had finished before he spoke. “Right, I’ll do the washing up. One question, did you bring gloves with you?”

Dorian stared at him. “Gloves?”

Alan grinned. “Gloves. You’re going to need them. When I’m finished in the kitchen, we are going to put on coats, hats, and gloves, and then we are going into the back garden.” He peered at Dorian’s slim hands. “I think I have a pair that might fit you. You’ll need to cover up the bandage.” He got up, took Dorian’s bowl and spoon from him, and then headed for the kitchen.

Dorian cleared his throat. “What are we going to be doing in the garden?”

Alan paused in the doorway and turned to face him. “Building a snowman.”

The expression on Dorian’s face was priceless.

D
ORIAN
STARED
at Alan. “You’re kidding… aren’t you?”

Alan gave a gleeful shrug. “Oh, come on. When does it ever snow this hard in this country? We need to get out there and make the most of it.”

Dorian was trying hard not to smile. “But building a snowman? Really?” It was a preposterous idea, but something about Alan’s suggestion made him feel light inside.

“Didn’t you build snowmen when you were a kid?” Alan chuckled.

He thought hard for a moment. Alan had a point. Dorian couldn’t remember there
ever
being this much snow around when he was growing up. And he had to admit, the idea was certainly appealing. It would be good to leave aside his worries and indulge in a little childish activity.

Just then commonsense prevailed. “I might find it a bit awkward.” He held up his bandaged hand.

“The gloves are thick,” Alan told him. He obviously wasn’t about to cave. “You can scoop up the snow with it and do most of the work with your left hand. I’ll help,” he added, a gleam in his eyes.

Dorian bit his lip, and Alan laughed.

“You
know
you want to. Forget about being an adult for a while and let’s have some fun.”

And when was the last time I had fun?

That did it.

Dorian smiled. “Okay. And yes to the gloves, please.” He looked down at his sweatpants and sweater. “I’ll go change into my jeans and some thick socks.”

Alan nodded approvingly. “I’ll do the washing up and meet you down here when you’re ready.” He exited the lounge with the empty bowls and spoons.

Dorian rose to his feet, left the room, and went upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled out his jeans and the thickest sweater he possessed, plus a pair of woolen socks. He peered out of the window to the back garden below, which lay covered in a thick, pristine blanket of white. Trees stood at the foot of the garden, their branches sagging under the weight of the snow. The sky was a brilliant blue, but there were ominous, heavy-looking clouds on the horizon, a hint that there could be more snow to come.

Dorian descended, warmly attired, and entered the kitchen, where a thick pair of gloves awaited him on the table. Alan beckoned him and then proceeded to help him ease the right glove onto his hand. His fingers were strapped together, and the stitches were hidden beneath the bandage. It briefly crossed Dorian’s mind that building a snowman might prove trickier than he imagined, especially as he would be working with his left hand.

“Here, these might fit you.” Alan held out a pair of green Wellington boots. “They’re a size eight.”

“Great. My size.”

Dorian took them and sat down to pull them on, managing to use the thumb of his busted hand. Alan unlocked the back door, and Dorian felt the chill immediately. He shivered, and Alan chuckled.

“We’ll soon get warm.”

He stepped outside, and Dorian followed, staring at the smooth layer of snow.

“What’s under here?” He didn’t want to be trampling plants underfoot.

“There’s lawn for twenty feet on either side,” Alan told him, “and it stretches back for about fifty feet.” His eyes glittered. “Lots of snow to play around with.” He walked out into the middle of the lawn, his feet leaving deep indentations.

Dorian trudged through the snow that reached the tops of his boots. The air was crisp and still, and he could hear birds tweeting from the trees of nearby gardens. It was a beautiful day.

“Right, I’m going to make my snowman here.” Alan pointed to a spot in front of him. He met Dorian’s gaze and winked. “Mine is going to be a Dom.”

A Dom snowman
. The idea tickled Dorian. “How will we be able to tell that?”

Alan tapped the side of his nose. “Wait and see.”

Dorian grinned. “Well, in that case, mine will be a sub.” He lifted his chin and stared at Alan. “But you need to start first.”

Alan arched his eyebrows. “I see.” He flexed his gloved hands and then proceeded to pile up snow, shaping it into two feet and then adding more and more as he gave his creation legs.

Dorian watched for a moment or two and then moved to stand in front of Alan’s emerging snowman, considering what to do next. Then a wicked idea struck him, and he fought hard to hold back his grin.
Perfect
. He pushed snow into position with his left hand, using his right to pat it down, seeing how much he could use his injured hand. He worked slowly, focusing on his task. He felt the sun on his face, heard the birds singing away, and for the first time in a while, Dorian was happy.

Alan’s chuckle broke through his reflections. “Is he… kneeling?”

Dorian nodded. He glanced up at Alan. “You just concentrate on yours and leave me to mine.” They were bold words, but he was beginning to feel very comfortable around Alan. He liked the Dom’s relaxed personality, and already Dorian had a sense of what Alan would take from him in the way of backchat. Dorian recalled Alan’s reaction when he’d confessed to eyeing up his arse, and he wasn’t worried.

Alan laughed. “Oh, you
are
feeling better, aren’t you?” He shook his head and went back to his construction, muttering something under his breath about mouthy subs, but that smile never left his face.

Dorian smirked and got on with his snowman, now working on building enough height to reach midway on Alan’s. He was working slower than Alan, his hand twinging now and again if he did too much with it.

It took them maybe half an hour until they were finished. Alan’s Dom snowman stood about five feet high, and he’d even managed to give him folded arms. Dorian hadn’t been able to produce something so detailed, but he wasn’t finished yet.

“And now for the finishing touch.” Alan walked toward the back door. “Just have to fetch something,” he called over his shoulder.

Dorian waited for a moment before following him. He stuck his head around the door and listened. Alan was upstairs. Quickly, Dorian nipped into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He pulled out the vegetable drawer, removed four carrots of varying lengths, and then sped back into the garden when he heard Alan’s footsteps on the stairs. By the time Alan appeared at the back door, Dorian was standing by his kneeling snowman.

Alan gave him a wide smile and held up a harness. “
This
is what he needs.”

Dorian laughed as Alan fastened the harness onto the snowman and then poked two holes for eyes and gave it a smile. “Here, he needs a nose too.” He took out a carrot and pushed it carefully into position. “There, that’s better.” Then he rubbed over his chin, as if deep in thought. “Hang on, he’s still missing something.” He bit back a smile as he removed the smallest of the carrots from his jacket pocket and stuck it into the Dom snowman’s groin, angling it upward.