Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Then nearly collapsed to the floor, his legs sagging out from beneath him as Brand let him go and parted their bodies.
He let himself be handled dazedly as Brand set both their clothing to rights—then gathered Ash up, lifting him to sit sideways across Brand’s lap, cradled and sheltered warm and safe in his arms as he came down from that. Too fucking intense. And fuck, he hurt inside so bad, as if he’d been completely hollowed out and left empty…but he wouldn’t change it for anything.
Nor would he change these quiet moments, when Brand extracted a tissue from the desk drawer and produced a bottle of witch hazel from his bottomless pockets and, watching Ash with fond warmth clear in that green gaze, began cleaning his bitten hand gently, tending to him with utmost care.
“Feel better now?” Brand murmured.
“Mm.” With a tired sigh, Ash shifted to lean against Brand, resting his head to his shoulder and closing his eyes. Like this he could feel the chuckle that reverberated through Brand, sardonic yet affectionate.
“Do not think I don’t know you entirely baited me into doing that.”
Ash peeked one eye open, biting back a smile. “Did you mind?”
Brand’s gaze softened, and he kissed Ash’s temple. “No.”
With a pleased sound, Ash tucked himself up and snuggled against Brand, holding himself dutifully still while Brand finished cleaning his hand, then taped a Band-Aid over the stinging spot where he’d bitten himself.
“I liked that,” Ash admitted. “I wish I could stay like that all the time. Like this all the time.”
“Alas, real life must be attended to.” Brand’s arms settled around Ash, warm and comforting. “But we may indulge more tonight, at the manor.”
“I’d like that.” Ash sighed. “I have to work now, don’t I?”
“You do.”
“Nnngh don’t make me.”
“You know that only entices me to make you.” Brand’s arms tightened around him, a tacit reminder of what that strength could do. “Be good, young Master. I’ll make it worth your while.”
Ash peeked at him again, and this time couldn’t restrain his smile. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Biting his lip, Ash murmured, “…stay?”
“Of course.”
And it was as simple as that. Even if they would have to work soon…Brand stayed, letting Ash be small and comfortable and tired and safe in his lap. Ash nearly drifted off, letting himself languish in the pleasant feeling of dozing against Brand, a faint scent he didn’t quite recognize drifting between them, a scent he thought might be…
He opened one eye. “Brand?”
Brand let out a lazy rumble. “Hm?”
“…how do you always have lube?”
A faint smirk curved Brand’s lips. “I have pockets, young Master.”
“Yeah, but…” Ash laughed. “Don’t say it. A proper valet is always prepared.”
With a low chuckle, Brand caught Ash’s chin in his fingertips. “Indeed,” he murmured, and drew Ash up to kiss him.
UNFORTUNATELY, THEY HAD TO PART before noon—when Ms. Vernon ducked in to confirm a question about next week’s schedule, and Brand had to very quickly dislodge his young Master, replace him in his chair, and reclaim his own seat.
He did, of course, have to preserve his young Master’s reputation.
When they were no longer so entangled, it was easier to focus on work—and Brand fixed his focus on sorting through out-of-date accounting records rather than on Ash. Yet he couldn’t help watching him from the corner of his eye; he didn’t even think Ashton realized how well he was settling into his role. His hands were more capable on the keyboard, rattling through emails and stock projections, checking things without needing to be told, gaze sharp as he took in information, asking more informed questions instead of sounding so lost. When the phone rang he actually answered it himself instead of using Brand as a buffer—and in this, Brand stood back and let his young Master have the reins.
And kept his quiet smile of pride to himself, lest he get his bloody damned head bitten off.
By the time afternoon sank in, though, Ash had slowed—drifting off more often, taking longer to notice he’d been spoken to and respond, pulling out of a lost daze and glancing at Brand as if just remembering he was there, before losing himself staring out the window again. Brand tried to keep his own focus, but with that silent, pained need tugging on him he could no more resist than the moth could resist the flame.
“Young Master.” He leaned against the arm of his chair, reaching across to cover Ash’s pale hands, resting lifeless on the keyboard. “You are thinking about your father, are you not?”
As shook himself, eyes clearing, and glanced at Brand with a wan smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is one of a small few options that could cause that expression.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Ash sighed, sagging back in his chair, rubbing at his temples. “Just wait, right? And hope. And grasp on to whatever little bits of happiness I can in between.” A smile tried to cross his lips, but faded before it had a chance to bloom, his mouth a bitter line. “Did you know most people with bone cancer don’t last longer than four years once it metastasizes? And he…” He thunked his head back against the back of the chair. “He’s been hiding it from me for three.”