Chapter 37
Aaron flung himself back on the bed, breathing hard. His body was glistening with sweat, with... He looked across to Jackson beside him, equally breathless, and smiled.
"That was something else!" he said, his breathing still laboured. "It just gets better every time!"
Jackson stretched languidly, his dark eyes still roaming over his lover's naked body. "That is because I am such a bloody good fuck," he said smugly.
Wriggling around until he was lying on his stomach, his arm draped over Jackson's chest; Aaron lifted his face until his mouth could reach Jackson's lips, until he could kiss him again.
"I'm not going to argue with that," he said as their lips slid apart. He rested his head on Jackson's chest, relishing the smell of sex and sweat mingling on their damp bodies. He let his fingers play on the soft skin in the curve of Jackson's neck, watching the play of emotion crossing Jackson's face.
"I can hear your heart beating," murmured Aaron. "It's going very fast."
"Are you surprised?" Jackson chuckled.
Aaron moved his fingers down to Jackson's nipple, circling it without touching it yet. "Do you think I've made the right decision?" he asked.
In the semi-darkness, Jackson said nothing for a moment. "You talked it through with Finn, with Robbie and Simon, with me even; and it always comes down to you being the only one who knows what knowledge you can live with." He paused again. "Or without."
He thought Aaron had fallen asleep, the silence stretched for so long. He felt his own eyes beginning to close.
"It was good of Finn to come down like that, wasn't it; and Greg too of course. But it must be a busy time for Finn, with the church...Christmas and all that." His voice was quiet in the midnight blue of their bedroom. "It is the right decision though," his voice was full of certainty. "I don't care; I've got everything – everyone – I need." He moved slightly, twisting so that he could look up into Jackson's eyes.
"Okay," Jackson said slowly.
"And Jackson," began Aaron, "d'you mind if we never speak of it again. Never wonder about it."
"Nah, that's fine by me," said Jackson. "I thought you'd gone to sleep," he murmured, letting one finger trail slowly along the firm curve of Aaron's back.
"Was just thinking," answered Aaron. "I'm not really tired just yet."
"Oh? Are you not?" Jackson moved a little, easing Aaron further on top of him. "In that case I'm gonna kiss you again and then I'm gonna make love to you."
Moving quickly, surprising Aaron, he pushed him, at the same time sliding out from underneath his body. Almost before he could resist – had he wanted to resist – Jackson was kneeling across his buttocks, leaning forward along the length of his back; as he sought his lips. Aaron turned his face as far as he could towards Jackson; he tried to raise his shoulders, ease his chest up on his hands but quickly Jackson pushed him down, capturing his hands above his head.
"You're mine, Livesy," he whispered; finding his lips, he kissed them quickly. "And you are just gonna have to lie there and take it."
Underneath him, Jackson could already feel Aaron groaning, trying to thrust the ache building again in his cock hard into the bed.
"Don't move your hands," Jackson whispered in his ear as he slowly let his fingers release Aaron's hands. Then he began kissing the soft skin at Aaron's neck. Moving down, alternating the gentlest kisses with his tongue licking, flicking, finding the most sensitive spots down the long length of his back. Slowly, so slowly; Jackson was intent on making Aaron last as long as possible and there was no rush; they had all night.
Easing his position slightly, the explorations of his tongue had reached the sensitive fold of skin between the round swell of his buttocks. He could hear Aaron's breathing becoming harder, faster; he could see his fists clenching, feel his body tensing, his arse arching upwards to meet his teasing tongue.
Further Jackson explored that tantalising crevice, letting his tongue travel lower. He slid his hands under Aaron's hips, raising them enough to give him the angle he needed as he slid his own body lower down the bed.
Even before his tongue reached his goal; the flower of Aaron's arse, he knew that it was tensing, puckering in anticipation of his tongue flicking around it, over it, exciting him until he pushed it in; just a little.
Groaning, unable to help himself, Aaron pushed his hands, his face, his chest into the bed as he raised his arse closer towards Jackson's face, pushing backwards, demanding with his body driven almost beyond control yet wanting more, so much more than the subtle penetration of his tongue. Even so, it felt good; teasing him, turning him on even more, flaming his desire; unable to help himself, he began thrusting his hips, his swollen cock against the bed.
Feeling his movements; stopping his licking, Jackson pulled Aaron round onto his back.
"Ah no you don't babes," he laughed. "You're not wasting that on the bed; I want to look into your eyes as I fill you, as I rub against you and feel you explode; I want to taste your..."
"Shit Jay! Just do it!" Aaron gasped. "You're such a fucking turn on; the way you touch me, the way..."
"Hush!" Jackson leaned forward, slid a finger into Aaron's mouth, silencing him, letting him suck it, just for a second.
Holding Aaron's eyes with his own, Jackson slid his hands around Aaron's legs, lifting them to his shoulders, raising his arse, his entrance.
Slowly, so slowly he moved, letting the head of his cock nuzzle against the welcoming petals of Aaron's arse for a second before he pushed; watching, drinking in every expression on Aaron's face as he flung his head backwards, arching his back, letting him further in. Then he was thrusting, gently at first, careful of his lover's tender place until he couldn't help himself; could do nothing but push harder, faster, knowing he was hurting Aaron, knowing that was part of it, until he knew he was on the verge of exploding, until he could stay the crescendo no more. Arching his body close over Aaron, they came together, stars filling their eyes, their night and their world, uniting them.
...
Aaron slouched down the road towards the garage, huddled into an old jacket of Paddy's against the biting cold. It smelt a bit; smelt of animals, of...actually he didn't want to think too closely of what the other smells ingrained in the old fabric might be; by the end of the day it would smell of oil, grease and all the other muck of the day from the garage.
He yawned; then smiled to himself, too many late nights; but then! even early nights tended to become late nights; it was just impossible for him to keep his hands off Jackson; off that firm, muscular body, off...he let the jacket fall open, tipped his head back a little to let the bitter air whip his hot thoughts away.
The double wooden doors of the garage were still locked; he rattled them briefly before delving into his pocket for his keys. He wasn't that sharp; it was unusual for Cain not to be there before him; grumbling and moaning.
...
Cain had seen him go past; seen him sauntering by, his smiling face tipped up to the sky, seeming as though he hadn't a care in his world. He needed to get his head into gear; needed to get out there, get back to work, back to making money, wheeling and dealing. But somehow his heart was missing.
...
Aaron already had a mug of coffee half drunk when he heard the small, inner door open and close. He had the radio playing quietly and was whistling tunelessly as he bent deep into the engine of the first car of the day.
"Top up?" asked Cain, nodding towards the mug.
"Yeah. Thanks," said Aaron, not looking up. He was okay, he said to himself, biting his lower lip in concentration; he really was okay, but now, just for the moment, he wanted to be left in peace to get on. He didn't want to be dragged back to thinking again.
He grunted his thanks as Cain replaced the mug beside him; he tried not to notice that he lingered, just a second or two longer than he needed to; that he took a breath, as though he was about to speak. But he didn't.
For a while, Aaron watched him from the corner of his eye, waited for him to come back, to catch him. It was a while before he realised he wasn't going to; it was a while before he could relax.
...
He couldn't stand it any longer, couldn't stand watching him and wondering; it was messing with his head too much; he couldn't breathe, couldn't think – he needed to get out. Growling briefly to Debbie, not caring if Aaron heard him or not, he said the first thing that came into his head; he said he was going to Hotton for parts. Grabbing his keys, he could hardly stop himself from running from the garage so keen was his need to get out of the stifling atmosphere of the garage.
Jumping into his car, revving! accelerating! he lurched up the short lane to the main street, taking the corner faster than was safe; he quickly put the village behind him. He didn't care about Hotton, about parts; he just drove; drove away from the village down the winding country lanes, putting as much distance between himself and Emmerdale as he could.
At last, screeching, he came to a halt in a lay by. Switching off the engine, he closed his eyes; discovered his breathing was fast, laboured; and for a while, for a minute, for an hour, for time that he couldn't measure, he sat in silence, trying to calm his body down even as his mind still raced.
Why did it matter? The question chased around in his head; it didn't matter, it couldn't matter. The uncertainty twisted itself around every thought; a black pit, a swirling morass dragging him down into it. What did it matter? His daughter mattered; she had been lost to him for years but now he loved her with all his heart, with every fibre of his being; he would fight for her, die for her. She didn't know it; he didn't show it, but it was there, a hot, glowing nugget of love, warming his soul.
But his son? Was he his son? Did it matter?
Oh God! It mattered! More than he could ever have believed! His eyes sprung wide open but he stared into nothingness; his breathing was ragged with emotion despite his struggle to control it. Yes! It mattered; more than he could find the words to say! He had to know, for once, for certain!
Did it matter that he wanted it so much; that he wanted it to be; that he wanted him to be his son. Anything else; even the thought of it...an icy chill that had nothing to do with the bitter cold penetrating the car flooded his body. He couldn't even think of that; not now, not yet, not ever!
He sat longer, nursing the pain of not knowing, in his heart. He needed to move, needed to get back to Emmerdale; needed to talk to him, make him understand that he had to know.
He still felt starved of oxygen; he felt lightheaded, dizzy; he put his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes, rubbing unexpected dampness from his face.
He needed to get away; suddenly it was imperative that he get away, get back to the garage as fast as possible.
Instinct took him down the lanes, choosing the right turns to bring him back to Emmerdale. Slower now; he didn't want anyone to know; he didn't want to share his mood with any of them. Slowing to a halt, he parked carefully, climbed out of the car, closed the door. He dropped the keys into his pocket, surprised to feel a small, firm piece of paper there. He pulled it out, it was almost as though he hadn't seen it before. But he had; it had been slipped into his hand. A telephone number; a man offering his help, his support, an ear to listen; in a sudden, jerking movement he ripped the small card in half, in half again; stuffing the remnants back in his pocket.
The radio was still playing; mugs still littered the workbench, one was even abandoned on top of a dark Volvo, the outside of it oil-stained, finger-marked. At first, in the darkness, he could see nothing, but the sound of voices, the sound of laughter drew him into the darker depths of the back room of the garage.
They were sitting together on the old car seats; sitting as though neither of them had a care in the world; his daughter and his…
"Not like you to let the workers slack," he snarled sarcastically at Debbie.
"Oh Dad!" she exclaimed. "Lighten up! We were just getting a coffee; it's damned cold working on the cars, even with the doors shut, these heaters don't give out much heat."
"Well why don't you go home, get a proper warm," he replied, his tone making it clear; this was not a suggestion. "I want a word with Aaron anyway."
She was about to argue, he knew she was, he could tell by the look on her face, that defiant look that reminded him of….too many Dingles. But he said nothing, just waited as, seeing his black expression, she thought better of it for once, as she scrambled out of the sagging seat and wove her way amongst the debris and clutter of the garage. She gave one, backward, glance at Aaron over her shoulder before shutting the door on them both.
Aaron didn't move from his slouched, sitting position, his legs bent, his heels resting on the very edge of the seat, his arms resting casually on his knees, still holding his coffee. He just waited, wondering what Cain wanted to talk to him about; fearing he knew – and dreading it.
Cain didn't look at him; he couldn't for the moment. He moved, paced a few steps around the back room; now that he was here, in front of him, waiting, he wasn't sure what to say.
"So," he began.
"So?" retorted Aaron, still waiting.
"So you okay to be back at work," he continued. "If you need more time off…to think…or whatever."
"Nothing to think about now," replied Aaron shortly, starting to get up, starting to go back to work, starting to end the conversation even before it began.
"Aaron!" his voice was sharp, making the younger man turn.
"What?" he questioned, irritation beginning to colour his tone.
"I'll give you the specimen, you need to do the test. You need to know," he said. "And Chas will need to think about the other blokes…" he added, an afterthought, he didn't really care about them, if it was them. He only needed to know if it was him; if Aaron was his son or his nephew.
"I don't need the specimen from you," said Aaron. "I don't need it because I'm not doing the test."
"What d'you mean? Not doing the test?"
"What I said. I'm not doing it."
"Don't be daft!" exclaimed Cain. "Of course you're doing it. You've got to!"
"I don't have to do anything! anything! I don't want to!" said Aaron angrily.
"But you need to know," Cain spluttered, shocked, hiding it in his own growing anger as he tried to keep the chill fear that was growing in his heart at bay.
"I don't care, Cain," Aaron almost yelled, his face dark with anger. "Don't you understand! I don't care anymore! I don't care if it's you or Gordon or some random bloke she picked up and shagged on a one night stand..."
Neither of them heard the garage door quietly open. Neither of them were aware of the tall, raven-haired figure coming quietly towards them. Neither of them were aware of her until her sharp voice cut across their argument.
"Aaron!"