Page 5 of August’s Thief

CHAPTER 5

Dawson lavished love on his twin as if love was a bottomless well. But so casually too, as though the way he teased him, cuddled him, and so devotedly fed and watered him, was nothing exceptional when in fact, it was spectacular. And in return, his brother’s hazy gaze tracked his every move. His limbs jerked excitedly, and he gurgled with pleasure at Dawson’s every softly spoken word. I felt both privileged and a voyeur.

And yet.

Questions flocked like seagulls. The regular shoplifting, the multiple arrests and Dawson’s studied nonchalance in the face of them. Mikey’s total dependence on his adoring twin with no clear fall-back plan. Their future. And although it was way too early to dream, whether that future had me in it. Whether Dawson wanted me in it. Because while I was tumbling head over heels for him, God knew I was no catch.

“I liked what we did earlier,” he said softly. Determined to be of assistance, I’d helped him manoeuvre Mikey into a reclining beanbag chair covered in a luxurious sheepskin, which Dawson explained reduced the risk of pressure sores before proudly informing me Mikey had never suffered from a single one. He’d done some stretching exercises with him then, a daily routine, to ease the stiffness in Mikey’s spastic limbs. Now, surrounded by cuddly toys, Mikey was sleeping peacefully, and Dawson was snuggled up next to me on the sofa, having insisted I stay a while. I didn’t take much persuading. His fingers, which had been tripping lightly up and down my thigh, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Your face is beautiful when you come, by the way.”

I blushed fiercely, even as my dick stirred and even as I knew it to be a lie. “That’s um… very kind.”

He yawned. “No, it’s not, it’s the truth. But I’m happy to double-check, just to be sure.”

He cupped his palm over my groin, grinning at my involuntary little grunt of pleasure. “You make cute sounds, too.”

Dawson’s lips parted readily as I kissed him. With a hand against his chest, I pushed him back against the cushions. His mouth found mine again as he pulled me on top. “I reckon you’re just a big humbug yourself, Gussie. Hard and crunchy on the outside, with a soft gooey centre.”

I laughed; I’d lost count of how many times I’d laughed today. “I’ll take that as a compliment. You’re…um…very pretty when you come, too.”

“I know.” He threw me a devilish smirk. “And by the way, I’m loving our second date. Are we going steady now?”

“I’ve never gone steady with anyone,” I admitted. My sex life had been a series of disastrous one-night stands in darkened rooms. Once their immediate needs had been fulfilled, my partners hadn’t been able to escape quick enough and not always with good grace.

“Me neither,” said Dawson, much more cheerily. “Got myself a human chastity belt, snoring right over there.”

He cocked his chin to where Mikey lolled in his beanbag, tilted away from us and towards the television, before turning back to me. He arched his groin up into mine as his mouth, stretched wide and fighting between a grin and a kiss, landed on my jaw. “Told you humbugs make your cock hard. We need to get rid of a couple of layers.”

He solved the clothing problem in under a minute. He also turned the tables; I became pinned down by sixty kilos of wiry, taut man, his busy hands moving over my skin, sparking fires wherever they touched. Cupping two handfuls of smooth arse cheek, my fingertips loitered over the sweet divide before skimming down lower to the parting of his thighs. His dick, hot and heavy, rubbed against mine, and a low moan erupted from his throat.

“Fuck, you feel nice, Gussie,” he whispered around my lips. “I reckon that CUPID bot knows what they’re doing, don’t you?” As his legs widened further, I stroked back up to his tight little hole, circling it, wanting to taste it, to open it up with my tongue. Fantasies I’d never had the confidence to play out. Drawing my finger away, I swiped it across his bottom lip. “Wet it for me.”

Need slackened his features as my fingertip breached him. Precum pulsed between us as he thrust against me, each push and pull sucking my finger deeper into his clinging heat. When my searching hit home, he jerked with shock. More wetness seeped between us, the satiny skin of his pretty cock sliding more easily against mine. His hazed eyes turned restless.

“Gonna come, Gussie. You’re so good, I’m gonna come.”

Liquid warmth spread across my belly as, with a shuddering moan, Dawson shattered. I was close myself and tried to get a hand between us. “Nah,” he gasped. “That’s mine.” With a wild shake of his head, he drew back on his haunches, still half hard. His dick glistened with cum; that vision alone almost tipped me over the edge.

Velvet heat enveloped me as his lips closed around my shaft. I threw my arm across my mouth, muffling the escaped groan. He didn’t use much finesse—he didn’t need to because with a couple of sucks, I was there, pumping into his hot mouth, seeing stars, tasting sunshine, somersaulting in freefall. Tumbling into something that I realised, with a giddy sensation, might be bordering the edges of love.

When a blond head thudded onto my chest, I came to myself somewhat. “Best pillow ever, Gussie,” Dawson murmured and promptly fell asleep.

“What were you shoplifting?” I asked a little later. Neither twin had stirred, but darkness had descended, bringing a chill to the room. Worried Mikey might become cold, I’d peppered Dawson’s hair with soft kisses until he woke. “When you were caught?” Ever since our first kiss, I’d prayed drugs weren’t involved; I crossed all my fingers now.

“The usual,” Dawson responded in a sleepy voice from deep within my embrace. “I receive a carer’s allowance and a few other handouts to help with rent and stuff. But it’s not enough, not if I want Mikey to have the best, plus a few treats, and it’s not like I can get a job to top us up, is it?”

“What, you mean you’re stealing food?” Jesus, no one caring for a man as disabled as Mikey should have to resort to stealing food.

“Yeah, we’re living through a cost-of-living crisis, haven’t you heard?” He shrugged. “I guess not. Although this time I got done for nicking socks of all things. I spotted a thick, woolly pair with baby elephants all over them. He loves elephants. Last time it was a box of cereal—Weetabix—and not the supermarket’s own brand ’cos Mikey’s fussy; he insists on the real stuff. Difficult to shove a box of forty-eight Weetabix down your trousers.” Dawson laughed, though without humour. “Your new boyfriend’s a cereal thief, Gussie. And a serial thief.”

From his sheepskin throne, Mikey twitched in his sleep. Disentangling himself, Dawson slipped off the sofa and covered him with a blanket, tucking one of the toys back under Mikey’s thin arm from where it had fallen. Satisfied, he returned to the sofa and laced his fingers through mine with a shy smile. At some point in the last few hours, this thing had moved beyond a date or two. I sensed Dawson felt it too.

“I can’t begin to know what needing to steal food and… essentials feels like,” I began slowly. “I’m spoiled and self-absorbed. And way too self-pitying.” Leaning across, I brushed my lips against his sweet, receptive ones. Never in my life had I been so confident my kisses were welcome. “I think that needs to change. Starting today. For as long as you want me, you don’t need to worry about money. You don’t need to steal anything.”

Minutes ticked by, and he didn’t reply. I wondered if I’d overstepped and gave him a nudge. “Say something, Dawson. I’m not very good at this relationship business. Or putting other people first. But I really want a relationship with you. I think you’re fucking amazing.”

Two arms came around my neck as my new boyfriend buried his face into my chest. “I really want a relationship with you too.” We stayed that way a while, me hugging him close. Pampering him. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were wet.

“Jeez, Gussie, how no one’s snapped you up before now, I have no idea.” He wiped a hand across his eyes. “This is the moment I should tell you I’m too proud to accept your money, isn’t it? That me and Mikey don’t take handouts, that we cope very well thank you very much, that we don’t need someone coming riding in on a white horse to rescue us.”

His eyes blazed with anger, passion, desperation, pride and God knew what else. I didn’t know. Whatever maelstrom was swirling in there, I was greedy for it.

“But fuck, you know something, Gussie? I’m not too proud. Not at all. Believe me, once you’ve been done for thieving bog rolls and marched out of Lidl in front of half of bloody Bethnal Green, you have no pride left. So if you’re offering something? I’m fucking taking it.”

He rattled off a list, counting on his fingers. “I buy Mikey vitamin supplements—they don’t come on prescription, and they’re bloody expensive. We’ve run out. He needs a new sheepskin for his downstairs wheelchair, and I’m saving for that. He needs equipment too. I’m in a big Facebook group that swaps and shares tips for caring for people like Mikey. And everyone is recommending a new heated massage device, which sounds awesome for helping the spasms in his legs, especially first thing when they’re always worse. One guy said he stopped needing the antispasmodic medicine altogether, which would be great ’cos Mikey hates the taste of that one and it’s always a battle, and now I sound like I’m gonna use you for your money and sponge off you, like you’re a fucking sugar daddy or something, but I want you to know that’s not true. If you had nothing, I reckon we’d still be doing what we are because even though you think that shit on your face is important, it isn’t to me. You’re hot stuff, Gussie; you have a great bod, a gorgeous fat dick and your posh voice says my name in such a sexy growl; I reckon I could come just having you saying it over and over in my ear. So yes, I’d be all over you anyhow, although I know that’s going to be hard to believe because—” At this he paused for a much-needed breath, and an anguished, hopeless expression crossed his teary face. “Look at you. That sweater you let me borrow, which I never want to give back, by the way, is the smartest, warmest, fucking item of clothing I’ve ever worn, and I was actually thinking if I never saw you again, I could sell it on Vinted for, like, at least fifty quid, and use the money to buy Mikey a…”

“Hush.” I pressed my thumb against his mouth, hardly recognising myself. Me, who usually lurked in the shadows, now being so bold as to shut someone up, to take charge, to tell them how it was going to be from now on. And blushing to high heaven and back even as my heart sang because this extraordinary, courageous young man wanted, wanted, wanted me. Warts and all—literally. As much as I wanted to make love to him all over again, I pushed him off and sat up.

“Get your phone. Show me this sheepskin thing Mikey needs. And the massage device. Right now. I’m going to buy them, and you’re going to let me, and then you can make a list of all the other things Mikey should have already.” I cast my eyes over the threadbare cushions. “And anything else you need.”

In a few clicks, it was done. I felt elated. Never had my money been put to such good use. Dawson’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’ll never be able to pay you back, you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You already have.”