Page 74 of The Last Kiss

“This…?” Ash threaded their fingers together, making a fist of both their hands and raising it between them. “This changes the world. You and I, who we are,whatwe are, changes the world. Olive, too. And a thousand others like us, Harry. Slowly, perhaps, but surely, we’ll reshape the world. Love will win.”

Harry gazed at him for a long moment, eyes widening as if seeing something wondrous. Then he took Ash’s face in both hands and kissed him hard, a powerful possessive kiss. “Lovewillwin,” he said, fierce and tender and true. “Hell, Ash, it’s already bloody won.”

EPILOGUE

One year later –17 July 1920, Milford Cottage, Hampshire

Harry woke with a jolt to find Ash sitting bolt upright in bed, one arm stretched out before him, breathing hard. It was early but the dawn chorus was already in full voice and daylight crept past the curtains of their bedroom.

Pushing up on one elbow Harry set a hand on Ash’s back, stroked his fingers over his tense muscles. It had been a while since Ash had suffered a nightmare — a couple of months at least. “Ash,” he said softly. “You’re dreaming.”

“I c-c-can’t reach…”

Sitting up, Harry wrapped his arms around him. They’d made love last night and had fallen asleep naked, so he pressed his bare chest against the chill skin of Ash’s back, hugging him close. “It’s a dream, Ash. Wake up now.”

In his head, he started counting slowly and by the time he reached six Ash started to relax. His outstretched arm dropped to his side, his breathing deepened and he began to tremble. Harry gathered him closer, rocking them gently the way he knew helped, and when Ash’s head finally sank back against his shoulder Harry kissed his clammy cheek. “Alright, love?”

Ash nodded and turned his head to meet Harry’s lips, kissing him with the urgency that often overcame him after one of his nightmares; as if visiting that dark place reminded him anew of the glorious life he’d been gifted. Harry responded readily, all too willing to celebrate life in this most vital of ways.

They sank back together onto the bed, kissing deeply, hands roving across each other’s bodies until Ash’s shivers faded. As morning light suffused the room, Ash pushed Harry onto his back and slid on top of him, their hardening pricks rubbing along nicely together. But his gaze was still distant, crowded with shadows. Harry didn’t mind being a distraction or a comfort — he’d be anything Ash needed — and this was hardly a chore. Ash kissed him hard on the mouth, then moved down to his shoulder and chest, his lips tracing a hot, hungry line towards Harry’s belly and all points south.

Harry groaned in anticipation when Ash’s cheek bumped the head of his prick and Ash looked up through his lashes. No smile yet, too many clouds in those troubled eyes, but Harry saw heat there too. And need. Christ, so much need. Ash licked his lips. “Can I?” he said.

“Yes. Anything you w — ”

Ash didn’t wait for more, taking Harry into his mouth with that same dark urgency. Trying to slow him down, Harry cupped his face, but it only provoked Ash to look up at him again through his thick lashes, lips glistening, and that sight — It almost got Harry off there and then. He had to stare at the ceiling to hold himself back, because he knew what Ash was really after and Harry wanted to be able to give him everything he needed.

Sure enough, with one final toe-curling caress of his tongue, Ash released Harry’s prick and made his slow way back up his body. When Ash kissed his mouth again, tasting faintly of sex, Harry wrapped him in his arms and rolled them both over so that Ash lay on his back and Harry nestled between his thighs.

Gorgeous and fragile, Ash gazed up at him with a wordless plea and Harry loved him more in that moment than he could express in words. He ran his fingers down Ash’s inner thigh to the warm crease of his hip and watched Ash’s abdominal muscles contract, goosebumps rising on his skin. “You sure you’re alright to go again after last night?” Harry said.

With a nod, Ash lifted his hips in invitation and Harry reached up to grab a pillow, and then the jar of petroleum jelly from the bedside table. Their first fumbling attempts at doing it ‘Greek Style’, as Ash had coyly put it, hadn’t been hugely successful. But with practice, patience, and petroleum jelly they’d got it down to something of an art. Ash especially enjoyed being on the receiving end of things when he was troubled. It helped him let go of dark thoughts, he said. It felt like wiping the slate clean.

Once Harry had the pillow under Ash’s backside, he leaned forward to kiss him again. He loved kissing him naked, relishing how their slow tangling tongues mirrored the rutting of their pricks, bare bodies sliding over each other. Bloody beautiful. They often got off just like this, but Ash needed more this morning, his hips rocking up insistently and fingers digging into Harry’s shoulders. Harry smiled against his mouth, nipped lightly at his lower lip, and sat back up.

He teased him for a while, first with his fingers and then with the slick head of his prick, until he was certain Ash was ready and not sore from last night. Then he let him have what he craved, sinking in with a powerful thrust and watching Ash tip his head back, exposing the long column of his throat, eyes closing as his rosy lips parted silently. The velvet grip of his body was intense, but this morning Harry wanted to focus on his lover’s pleasure before his own. So he slid his hands under Ash’s knees, pressing his legs back, and watched Ash shiver. “I love you,” Harry said, starting to move inside him, pulling back, thrusting carefully forward. “I love you so much, Ash.”

Ash nodded, didn’t speak, hips moving in time with Harry’s. Christ, Ash wanted this badly, Harry could feel his need as if it were his own, the tension coiling in his thighs and balls and belly. His need was fierce, his fuse short, and Harry didn’t try to prolong things, not when Ash so clearly needed release. He pressed a kiss to the inside of his left knee, the wounded leg Ash had once flinched from, and when he looked back at his face Ash was watching him with eyes dark and desperate. “It’s alright,” Harry said. “I’ve got you.”

One hand braced on the bed next to Ash’s shoulder, Harry started to thrust in earnest. Deep, hard jerks of his hips that set the headboard knocking against the wall. Ash cried out, lifting his head to snatch a fiery kiss, all teeth and tongues.

Never mind Ash’s urgency, Harry wasn’t going to last long either. Not when Ash started stroking himself hard. The sight of his flushed face, reddened prick in his slick flashing hand, would have been enough to get Harry off all on its own. “Jesus,” he growled, barely holding his release back. “Fuck, Ash. Do it.”

Ash tensed, Harry felt him clench around his prick, saw the rigid cords stand out in his neck, stomach muscles bunching… And then he came across his belly with a hard shout of relief and Harry followed, pressing his face into the hot skin of Ash’s shoulder as his body shuddered with the force of his release.

Wobbly-legged, he carefully withdrew and flopped onto his back at Ash’s side, bones honey-filled and heavy. For a while, the only sounds in the room were their slowing breathing and the chatter of birdsong. But then Ash rolled into him, his breath catching, and Harry wrapped him in his arms and held him until the squall passed.

“Better?” Harry said after a while, once Ash had quieted again.

He felt the answering nod against his shoulder. “It’s been so long,” Ash said quietly. “I’d hoped I was f-free of them.”

Harry stroked Ash’s back, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You know what I think? I think it’s because of today.”

“Today?” Ash looked up, frowning. “What does today have t-to do with it?”

“You have those dreams when you’re fretting about something.”

“I’m not fretting.” But his words didn’t hold much conviction.

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