Page 25

chapter twenty-four

I Found

Kenny stayed in the hospital for a week.

Two days in ICU, monitored closely, hooked up to machines tracking every heartbeat, every breath, ensuring his body wouldn’t shut down on him. Then, once the worst had passed, they moved him to the ward, where a full recovery could begin.

Aaron was there for nearly all of it.

He couldn’t stay overnight, but he arrived the moment visiting hours began each morning and refused to leave until the nurses physically kicked him out at eight p.m. Kenny knew he wasn’t going back to his hall of residence at night. He was staying at Kenny’s house. Waiting.

That was fine with Kenny.

He wanted him there.

Aaron wasn’t his only visitor, either.

Jack came by, bringing coffee that Kenny wasn’t cleared to drink yet and a steady presence that didn’t require words. Fraser came too, when Jack was off duty, cracking jokes at his expense while Aaron glared at him, as if Kenny needed protecting from laughter. His aunt arrived, quiet but warm, assuring him she would handle all the arrangements for his mother’s funeral and he didn’t need to worry about anything. She met Aaron, too. It could have been awkward, but Aaron excused himself to get her tea, giving Kenny a chance to explain the intricacies of their relationship.

When Aaron returned, she hugged him.

Then there was Professor Marwood—Ellie. She arrived hesitant but genuine, offering apologies, regrets, and the formal reinstatement of his professorship application, should he wish to return to his role in the faculty. Dr Pryce wouldn’t be there. She’d been arrested. Currently in custody, awaiting trial, denying everything. Claiming Kenny had lied about the drugging, that he was unstable, that his behaviour was driven by the trauma of his mother’s death and his forbidden relationship with the son of two serial killers. That it was he who’d manipulated her , not the other way around.

The judge disagreed. She wasn’t granted bail.

Still, the case wasn’t open and shut. Kenny would have to testify against her, reliving every moment of what she’d done. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. But that was the thing. Nothing was ever going to be over until she was behind bars and Mable was laid to rest. Even then, there would be an inquiry into what had happened. How Mable had been allowed back into society. Kenny wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a part of it. He was so done with it all. Exhausted.

And whether Kenny wanted to go back to work?

That, too, remained uncertain.

After a week, the doctor discharged him.

His body was still weak, sluggish, aching with every movement, but the hospital had done all they could. Healing now meant time and patience. Two things Kenny was horrifically bad at. And as neither he nor Aaron could drive, Jack and Fraser offered. Aaron sat in the back seat with him, hands laced tightly in Kenny’s, as if he thought if he let go, Kenny might fade away completely.

Kenny welcomed it. The touch, the reassurance, the warmth . The physical affection. But his psychologist brain wouldn’t shut up, wouldn’t stop analysing Aaron’s behaviour, dissecting every micro-expression, every unconscious grip of his fingers, every hesitant glance as though measuring Kenny’s every breath.

The guilt.

It hung off Aaron like a weighted chain, manifesting in the way he clung too tightly, held too long, whispered reassurances Kenny hadn’t asked for. Didn’t need. And Kenny knew why Aaron wouldn’t let go of him.

Fear .

Fear that this would break them, that Kenny would eventually decide it was all too much and run away. That being with him, the son of Frank and Roisin Howell, would eventually cost Kenny too much to bear. He’d lost his sister, his mother, his entire career to the Howell’s. It was a logical step to believe he wanted nothing more to do with any of them.

But Aaron was wrong.

Love was complicated.

So even if Kenny could run, which he physically couldn’t right then, he wouldn’t.

Not from this.

Not from him .

Because he was in love with him.

So when Jack and Fraser got him home, settling him on the sofa, and Aaron fussed around, ensuring Kenny had everything within reach, Kenny saw it for what it was. Guilt transmuted into action. Aaron had always struggled with stillness, with helplessness. He needed to move, to do. Distract himself from emotions he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, process. A learned behaviour. A survival mechanism from a childhood spent clawing his way through situations beyond his control.

But Kenny couldn’t let him continue thinking he had to make amends for things that weren’t his fault, or his burden to bear.

After Jack and Fraser left, Jack having given him the rundown on the case, Aaron bolted upright, eyes darting to the used cups, the half-empty biscuit tin, the scatter of things left behind. He gathered them, ready to disappear into the kitchen, into something to do. Something to fix.

“Hey, leave it.” Kenny tapped the sofa next to him.

“Won’t take me a sec. I’ll go put these away.” He lifted the cups, fingers curled around the porcelain, his movements brisk, almost frantic.

“ Leave them.” Kenny reached for his hand, wrapping firm fingers around his wrist, tugging him down. It took effort. As if Aaron was resisting gravity itself. Plus, he wasn’t up to full recovery yet. He had weeks of physio to get him there. “Sit down.”

Aaron hesitated, but eventually sank beside him, brows pinched, dumping the cups back on the table. “You okay?”

Kenny watched the tension in Aaron’s jaw, the twitch in his fingers, the way he bounced his knee, a tell of his unease.

“I need you to stop this guilt thing you have.”

Aaron’s expression faltered. Surprise. Deflection.

“None of what happened is your fault. Stop acting like you have to make up for it. You don’t.”

Aaron’s lips parted, but no words came out. His gaze darted to the coffee table, to his hands, to anywhere but Kenny’s face. Silence swelled between them, heavy with the things Aaron couldn’t say, with the things Kenny had spent months piecing together. Guilt was Aaron’s shadow, a relentless spectre that whispered lies into his ear— you’re from a family of murderers; you’re tainted; you don’t get to be innocent. He carried it in his spine, in the tension coiled inside him, in the way he tried to earn his place in the world, in people’s lives. Even now, Kenny could see him weighing the words, trying to argue, to rationalise why he should feel responsible.

But Kenny wasn’t letting him.

He cupped Aaron’s chin. “You don’t have to fix anything. You don’t have to earn the right to be here. Not with me.”

Something fractured in Aaron’s expression. A breath caught, a muscle in his jaw ticked, and for a moment, just a moment, he looked like he wanted to believe it.

Kenny pulled him closer. “Sit with me. Just be with me.”

After a long beat, Aaron exhaled, the tension releasing in uneven waves. His shoulders sagged, not in surrender, but close enough and he leaned into Kenny, his body solid and real, head finding its place on Kenny’s shoulder as if it had always belonged there. And Kenny let Aaron seep into him, grounding him. He dipped his cheek, brushing his lips against the crown of Aaron’s head, pressing a kiss there. A silent reassurance, a promise wrapped in tenderness. Aaron’s fingers found his, tentatively at first, then firmer, lacing them together.

They stayed like that, wrapped in the stillness, letting the storm of everything that had happened settle around them.

But it couldn’t go back to how it was.

Too many things between them had blown wide open. A lifetime of trauma, of ghosts lurking in the corners of their minds. Wounds that hadn’t healed, and maybe never would. But together, Kenny was sure— absolutely sure—they could weather the wreckage. That whatever came next, neither of them had to face it alone.

After a long moment, Aaron stirred. He lifted Kenny’s hand in his own, tracing the lines of his veins, playing with his fingers absently, as if memorising him in a language of touch.

Then, so quietly it almost got lost between them, he asked, “Do you think your sister would have liked me?”

Kenny inhaled a deep, aching breath. “She would have loved you. And Mum would have loved you playing the piano with her.”

Aaron smiled. Then, just as fragile, “We should leave Ryston.”

Kenny’s heart stuttered.

For the first time, they were on the same page.

“Yeah,” he said. “We should.”

Aaron nodded, still drawing patterns along Kenny’s hand. “Barcelona was good for us.”

“Yeah.”

“So… we could go somewhere hot? With a beach? You know that was my first time on one, right?”

Kenny lifted his head, turning just enough to look at him. “I didn’t know that. But…I was thinking we should leave Ryston permanently. ”

Aaron lifted his head then, too, their eyes locking. “So was I.”

A dawning smile broke across Kenny’s face. It was all he’d thought about while trapped in the hospital, surrounded by death and memories too thick to breathe through. Getting out. Getting Aaron out. Leaving behind the ghosts, the shadows, the expectations that had long overstayed their welcome. Walking away from all the old wounds that had kept them both tethered here. With his mother gone, there was nothing tying him here. No real reason to stay. He had his job, of course. But he could get a job somewhere else.

If he wanted one.

“Then let’s put that down as a plan,” Kenny said. “I’ll need to look into university jobs. Find a professorship somewhere. Selling this house. Putting Mum’s affairs in order. Maybe there’s enough in her savings for a deposit somewhere. You can finish your degree…”

“You don’t need a deposit.”

Kenny frowned. “We’ll need one to buy somewhere else. Or even to rent until we know where we want to be.”

Aaron turned to him fully, eyes glinting with something Kenny couldn’t place.

“I said,” Aaron repeated, slower this time, “ you don’t need a deposit.”

Kenny furrowed his brow. “Aaron—”

“Did I not tell you?” He winked. “I’m a millionaire.”

Kenny parted his lips, blinking in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Aaron shot him a dazzling, shit-eating grin, then abruptly pulled away, launching out of his seat and disappearing into the next room. Kenny heard the rustling, the sound of something being yanked from a hiding place. When he returned, he clutched a tatty, ripped, mud-encrusted, and blood-soaked rucksack.

His old school bag.

Kenny stared at it.

“Lucky Jack retrieved this from evidence.” Aaron dropped onto the sofa next to Kenny, unzipping the bag and rummaging inside to pull out an envelope. He handed it over. “Got this a few days back. Fuck, I don’t even know what day we’re on. Jervine stopped by. On my birthday. Told me I have access to the Howell estate.”

Kenny tugged out the papers, scanning the contents with a sharp, clinical eye. The words blurred for a moment, too much to take in all at once.

“Didn’t know what to do with it, to be honest.” Aaron dropped his head back onto Kenny’s shoulder. “Don’t want any of their blood money. Still might give some of it away. Remember I told you about my mate Jayden?”

Kenny, still blinking at the figures in the paperwork, managed a distracted, “From your care home?”

“Yeah. He runs an inclusive drama therapy group. Got charitable status. Helps kids in need through drama workshops. Gives them confidence, a place to heal.” Aaron met Kenny’s gaze. “Thought I could donate to him. Still owe him thirty quid, might as well shove a few more zeroes on it. Call it interest.”

Kenny blinked. “That’s…” He cleared his throat. “A wonderful idea. Yes. Yes, you should.”

Aaron hummed, idly playing with Kenny’s fingers. “Then I could use the rest to buy somewhere for us. I ain’t enamoured with using their money, but if it gets us away… if it gives us a little peace… then, let’s use it.”

Kenny exhaled, a slow release of something he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding onto.

A future. A way out.

With Aaron.

Without a power imbalance.

It had always been about getting Aaron out of here. Away from the ghosts, the past, the things keeping him tangled in the ruins of his parents’ crimes. But now, for the first time, Kenny realised he wanted out, too. Not just for Aaron. But for himself.

For them . So they could be each other’s.

Kenny tilted his head, pressing another lingering kiss to Aaron’s temple, feeling the shift between them.

Not an ending.

A beginning .

Then, after a moment, Aaron moved.

He straddled Kenny’s lap, gripping either side of his neck with desperate fingers, and kissed him. It was nice. So fucking nice. Better than any medicine. Any therapy. And the way Aaron’s body pressed against his, with the hunger still there, unfiltered, despite how weak Kenny was had Kenny’s pulse spiking, hands itching to touch, to pull him closer.

But when Aaron deepened the kiss, ready to consume him whole, as if erasing the thoughts of who had last been kissing him that way, fuck, it hurt .

No, really hurt .

“ Ow, ow— ” Kenny winced as sharp pain shot through his chest, stitches pulling and he gripped Aaron’s waist, stopping him. “Not yet, baby. Not yet.”

Kenny hated how the fire in Aaron’s eyes dulled, dimming smaller, more vulnerable. And he swallowed, loosening his grip on Kenny’s neck, climbing off him, retreating to the other side of the sofa.

“That’s okay.” Aaron rubbed the back of his neck, eyes anywhere but on Kenny. “We got more than sex going for us, right?”

Kenny’s chest ached . Not from his stitches, but from how Aaron asked questions, then braced himself for the wrong answer.

“We do,” Kenny said softly.

And they did .

They absolutely did. All those months resisting temptation had given them something far better than sex.

Intimacy .

But that didn’t mean the hunger wasn’t there. Didn’t mean it had lessened. Nor mean Kenny didn’t feel the tension simmering under Aaron’s skin, coiling tight with every passing day of his recovery where Aaron stayed day and night.

And as such, it only took another five nights before Aaron tried again.

And this time, Kenny didn’t stop him.

Because they were already naked anyway, already tangled beneath the sheets, skin to skin, hearts beating in sync. There was no hesitation this time, no fumbling rush. Just Aaron, shifting above him, gaze dark with more than lust, more than longing.

Devotion .

And even though Kenny hadn’t completely healed yet, hadn’t regained his full strength to take the control away from Aaron the way he liked him to, he put his trust in Aaron. Let him do it all. And fuck did he.

Aaron worshipped him with every touch, every kiss, mapping out the places Kenny was still healing, the stitches across his chest, the bruises along his ribs. He kissed them all, gentle and lingering, as if sealing them shut with something stronger than thread.

Devotion. Love .

And there was no urgency. But there was desperation.

A need. Visceral and potent .

To reconnect. To feel alive.

So Kenny let Aaron do whatever it was he needed to and he let himself be touched. Taken apart. Put back together in Aaron’s hands, in his mouth, in the way he kissed him—soft, deep, endless. The way he moved against him, as if trying to prove his worth.

They were more than sex.

But sex was still important.

And whatever storm was coming, whatever ghosts lingered in their past, none of it mattered.

Because this? Them. Together. Was real.

Kenny was never letting it go.

And when Aaron took him into his mouth, savouring every inch, he allowed Kenny to forget the pain. Forget everything except the warmth of Aaron’s mouth, the wet heat of his tongue tracing his length, his lips tightening around him with every downward plunge. And Kenny watched him utterly mesmerised.

Aaron licked along the sensitive ridge of his head, teasing, tormenting, swiping his tongue across his tip as if he was tasting something sacred and Kenny groaned. Loving every cherished second. Then Aaron wrapped his fingers around the base of Kenny’s cock, holding him steady, taking him deeper, forcing more of him down his throat. And the way he moved—controlled, precise, utterly ravenous—had Kenny’s stomach clenching, and he gripped the sheets to stop himself from tangling them in Aaron’s hair and guiding him harder. Faster.

Just as Kenny teetered on the edge of madness, Aaron eased off, dragging his mouth along Kenny’s cock one last time before releasing him with a wicked, satisfied hum. He slid up Kenny’s body, pressing their lips together, deepening the kiss as he reached for the lube on the bedside table. Kenny felt the cold press of it against his skin as Aaron slicked Kenny’s length, stroking him slow, lazy, teasing .

Kenny sucked in a breath, muscles tensing as Aaron carefully straddled him, rose onto his knees, positioning himself, and guided Kenny’s tip to his entrance. God, he needed this. Needed inside him. To feel Aaron around him, tight and consuming, as if he was the only thing tethering Kenny to the earth. And fuck, it was clear Aaron needed it, too. Needed him.

Aaron didn’t look away as he sank down, body stretching, taking Kenny inch by inch, until he’d fully seated, completely connected, exhaling a deep, shuddering moan. There, he held Kenny’s gaze. Nothing hidden. Nothing shielded.

And in a voice that shattered Kenny completely, Aaron whispered, “I love you.”

Kenny’s breath left him, stolen by the sheer weight of those words, how Aaron meant them, how they weren’t just spoken but felt. And he slid his hands up Aaron’s thighs, gripping tight, to give himself over completely.

“I love you too, baby.”

Aaron closed his eyes, just long enough to take it in, before he moved. Slow, purposeful rolls of his hips, keeping Kenny buried deep inside him, keeping him exactly where he wanted. He didn’t speed up. Didn’t chase the urgency. He just rode him. Taking his pleasure at his own pace, moaning softly as Kenny hit that perfect spot inside him again and again.

Kenny could only watch. Only feel. Couldn’t thrust up to meet him. Couldn’t take control. Nor do anything except lie there and take it, stuck at Aaron’s mercy.

And it was fucking heaven.

Aaron traced his fingers over Kenny’s chest, ghosting over the stitches, over the marks Kenny had earned from trying to protect him, trying to keep them both from falling apart. He tipped his head back, eyes fluttering shut, a deep, throaty groan spilling from his lips as pleasure wrecked him.

Even after everything—after all the pain, all the blood, all the ways they’d come apart and put themselves back together—Aaron was still a rogue.

Still fucking dangerous.

And Kenny loved him for it.

Aaron smirked down at him, a glint of mischief behind the haze of pleasure in his eyes. “You okay?”

Kenny gripped Aaron’s hips. “Yeah. You can go faster.”

Aaron hummed, but didn’t pick up the pace. Instead, he kept his maddening, torturous rhythm.

“Not sure I want to.” Aaron dragged his nails down Kenny’s chest. “Love feeling every fucking inch of you in me.”

Kenny groaned, tilting his head back, trying not to beg. “Fuck, baby… you’re killing me.”

Aaron’s lips curved into something dark. “Yeah. Softly. Softly.” Then he leaned down, voice a whisper against Kenny’s ear and he rolled his hips, drawing another ragged moan from Kenny’s throat. “Making sure you know you’re alive.”

Then he rose, taking Kenny almost all the way out before sinking back down, riding him with excruciating intensity. Kenny dug his fingers into Aaron’s thighs, leaving bruises in their wake, marking him as if that could somehow tether him here, to this moment, to him.

He then slid a hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Aaron’s cock, stroking him with the same unhurried intensity Aaron was torturing him with. Aaron shuddered, his control waning for a fraction of a second, and Kenny felt Aaron clenching around him, trembling, strung tight with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Kenny panted, voice thick, desperate, wrecked , tightening his grip on Aaron’s cock. “I fucking adore you.”

Aaron chuckled, tossing his head back as he ground down harder, weaving his fingers through Kenny’s on his length, spreading the slick lube over himself.

“Fuck, lover … ” Aaron groaned, rolling his hips making Kenny’s head spin, his pulse hammer, his entire body tighten in unbearable pleasure. “I love you like this.”

Fuck, Kenny would never survive him.

He gripped Aaron’s thighs, trying to hold on, keep grounded, but it was no use. Aaron was everywhere, around him, above him, owning him, and Kenny was losing himself completely.

“ Baby… ” Kenny gasped, stomach clenching as the heat coiled and snapped inside him. “I’m there, baby, I’m fucking there.”

“ Fuck, ” Aaron panted, grip tightening over Kenny’s to speed his strokes, body shuddering. “That’s it, lover. Just like that. Just like that …”

And as they clasped their hands together, linking their fingers tightly, Kenny’s orgasm hit him like a wave, crashing hard, white-hot pleasure searing through his veins as he came inside Aaron, moans ragged and broken . He shuddered, chest heaving as Aaron kept riding him through it, milking every last aftershock, his own body trembling, pleasure barely restrained.

“Oh, fuck—Kenny—”

Then Aaron was gone.

He came with a strangled moan, spilling down Kenny’s hand and chest, over his stitches, trembling as Kenny massaged him through the aftershocks, through the pleasure, through the wreckage.

Aaron sagged forward, spent, shaking. But he knew to climb off. To not collapse onto Kenny, and he slithered beside him, curling up. Kenny wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, anchoring him as they both lay there, tangled, sweat-slicked, alive.

Aaron nuzzled into Kenny’s neck, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses there, his breath still uneven, his lips skimming against Kenny’s pulse. “You good, lover?”

Kenny smoothed his hands down Aaron’s back, lips to his ear. “Fucking phenomenal.”

Aaron chuckled and kissed him again, deeper, as if he wanted to stay in this moment, like he wanted to keep it.

And Kenny knew, right then and there—

He would never get enough of this man.