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Chapter two

Misty

“We’re leaving.” Kenny’s voice was rough around the edges and Aaron doubted it was just from a day of giving keynote speeches on the twisted architecture of the human mind to a bunch of academics.

It was way more visceral than that.

Aaron blinked away from the kiss, then smirked as he ruffled Kenny’s tousled hair away from his neck and nuzzled into him. The scent of him—familiar, addictive—was enough to make his pulse quicken and the remnants of a day’s work locked inside stuffy academia, with his collar buttoned and tie fixed, had created the delicious sheen of salty sweat Aaron craved.

“You only just got here.” Aaron grazed his mouth along the sensitive curve of Kenny’s neck, the coarse hairs from his beard rasping his lips, then licked a line up to his earlobe. “You said you wanted to dance with me.”

“I do.” Kenny tightened his arms around him, their bodies swaying in time with the upbeat, pulsing rhythm. “We have.”

“Barely longer than any other man in here has.”

Kenny gave him that devastating stare. The one that usually had Aaron stripping for him. Couldn’t exactly do that here. Now. Which was probably Kenny’s issue, to be honest. But Aaron wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.

So he pulled back enough to catch the hunger in Kenny’s eyes. And he could already feel the semi he had growing in his suit trousers, and yeah, that was a turn on. But Aaron had spent the past couple of days holed up in the hotel room with Kenny coming back from the conference late, fucking him, then falling asleep. They only had one day left, and Aaron wanted more .

“Hot Gym Queen over there has been trying for my arse all night.” He kissed down Kenny’s neck, back up to his ear. “Don’t let him think I come that easy.”

“But for me, you do.”

“Yeah, but that’ll damage his ego. Imagine what that would do to his state of mind.”

“I could refer him to an excellent therapist who would help him process his misplaced entitlement and guide him toward understanding how constant comparisons only reinforce unhealthy attachment patterns.”

“God, you’re cruel.” Aaron suckled on Kenny’s earlobe. “It turns me right fucking on.”

Kenny squeezed him closer. “Then let’s go. I can be crueller.”

Aaron leaned in for a hushed whisper. “And I can be really defiant.”

“I know.”

Aaron captured Kenny’s lips in a fierce, desperate kiss to prove his point. To claim. Promise. And dare . But Kenny didn’t meet his wildness with the same force. He didn’t push or take control. He simply… let it be. Kissing Aaron back with languid indulgence, as though he was savouring the moment. Savouring him. As if not just kissing Aaron for the heat or the hunger, but for the simple pleasure of being able to.

Here.

Out in the open, beneath the flashing lights, with envious eyes all around.

Eventually, Aaron pulled away, gave a crooked smirk, then twisted in Kenny’s arms, pressing his back to Kenny’s chest and meeting the Gym Queen’s wide-eyed stare with a wicked grin. He wasn’t ready for this to end. Not yet.

When Kenny had asked him to come with him to Barcelona, Aaron had imagined moments like this. Not stolen. Not secret. Just them. No classroom walls between them. No stolen hours in the dead of night. Just Kenny’s hand in his, out in the open.

Yeah, okay, he was also up for the rampant sex in the plush hotel room. Making use of the complimentary sauna and steam room in the accompanying gym. Maybe even sunbathing naked at the Mar Bella Beach where Kenny would lather him up with cream in places the sun didn’t even reach. But he also craved a little more than that.

Because that’s what their quasi-relationship had been so far. Fucking . Lots and lots of fucking. And while they burned like fire together, sometimes Aaron craved their quieter moments. The times when the flame didn’t roar but softened, sparkling gently between them. And this trip had planted a seed of hope he couldn’t shake. He wanted to give Kenny something different. Something normal .

But Aaron wasn’t sure what a normal relationship even looked like. Most of what he knew were bits and pieces from books, movies, and hushed conversations. His memories of his parents’ marriage certainly weren’t morsels to draw upon. So before the trip out here, he’d called Jayden, his old mate from the care home, who’d held down a relationship for three years now despite the odds. Jayden had laughed, half in disbelief, when Aaron asked what people in love actually did .

And that was the crux of it.

What he had with Kenny—the sneaking around, the secret touches and the late-night visits where he’d sneak into Kenny’s house just to see the startled, hungry look in his eyes—it didn’t feel normal . It felt as if he’d stolen it. And stolen things were easier to lose, because no one valued them.

He didn’t want wanted to lose this. Kenny .

So he let the music pulse through him, let it guide him, swaying and shimmying in time with the beat and danced around Kenny as if he were the pole he’d been wrapping himself around for shits and giggles back at uni. And as he spun, he caught Kenny watching him with half-lidded eyes, dark and dangerous. But they weren’t entirely on him. He kept one eye on the Gym Queen whose hunger was palpable.

Aaron felt that electric charge.

Part thrill. Part unspoken warning .

Then Kenny slid his hand up the back of Aaron’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair to twist him around, and yanked him back with such possessive force, it robbed Aaron of air. Especially when his next kiss wasn’t so soft. It was fierce. Commanding. A raw declaration burning away any room for ambiguity.

You’re mine.

“All right,” Aaron panted as he dipped away. “Let’s go.”

Kenny grabbed Aaron’s hand, lacing his fingers tight with his, casting one final smug glance over his shoulder at the man still watching them, stunned and envious. He then led Aaron through the crowd, weaving past bodies until the pulsing music fell behind them like a fading heartbeat.

The night air met them at street level, the city alive with laughter and passing conversations in Spanish and Catalan. Aaron took a step left, but Kenny’s arm forced him right.

“Uh…hotel’s this way, doc.” Aaron pointed up ahead. He knew the way back, having been holed up there for two days whilst Kenny gallivanted around the University of Barcelona. He’d only ventured out to get food from the all-inclusive buffet or for a brief walk around, wanting to take in the sights with Kenny. Plus, he’d walked here from the hotel an hour ago, when Kenny had texted him to say the conference was over.

Their little game. To give Kenny his usual fix of a pickup after a conference.

No matter that his pickup had been the bloke he’d been shagging for nine months.

Kenny tightened his grip on Aaron’s hand and tugged him in the opposite direction. “We’re not going to the hotel.”

“We aren’t?” Aaron stumbled to follow beside him.

“No.”

“You know our outside endeavours haven’t really worked in our favour.”

Kenny threw him a look. Aaron chuckled, remembering the time Aaron had attempted to give him head whilst driving to work. Aaron had choked on Kenny’s cock when Kenny had skirted up a curb. After that, Kenny had put a stop to him doing really stupid things.

The next day had been a small shower incident.

Aaron had selective hearing. And, like he said, could be really fucking defiant.

Kenny glanced back at him with a small, knowing smile that was frustratingly cryptic. So Aaron let him have his fun and walked hand in hand along the narrow streets, past clusters of people gathered outside tapas bars, the air rich with the scent of garlic and fried calamari. Somewhere nearby, a guitarist strummed a soft, melancholic tune, drifting through the alleyways like smoke.

Aaron took in everything. The wrought-iron balconies bloomed with potted geraniums and trailing vines, leaves dancing in the hush of the warm night breeze. Cafe lights spilling onto cobblestone streets. He’d never been on holidays before. Never even owned a passport until Kenny suggested he come on this trip. Thanks to Jervine pulling those strings, his application for an Aaron Jones passport had been fast tracked. And now, here he was. Walking through a city that felt like a living canvas, every street a painting of colour and life.

Colours he’d never seen. A life he’d never had.

It was all new. Vibrant. Surreal. And Kenny’s hand linked with his made it even stranger. Like a dream he wasn’t sure how to fit into. His hand felt huge in Kenny’s grasp, as if everyone could see it. Their connection laid bare under streetlamps and starlight. Every passing glance felt magnified, eyes lingering too long. It took a while for his heart to stop its restless thrum, for him to settle, but Kenny never let go, and, bit by bit, the awkwardness melted away.

He peeked at Kenny. The calm steadiness in his stride, the small, content smile at the edge of his lips making Aaron let out a lingering breath. He had something up his sleeve. Something he was pure giddy about. And Aaron’s heart yearned for whatever it was. He wouldn’t say that, though. Kenny knew too much about his feelings without Aaron having uttered a word. So he kept his mouth shut as Kenny finally stopped in front of an old stone building, its facade weathered but elegant, with tall arched windows framed by intricate wrought iron where soft music floated from inside. Rich, live, and unmistakably romantic .

Kenny pushed open the door.

The room was like something out of a dream. Grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its crystals shimmering with soft light, hardwood floors gleaming, worn smooth by decades of dancing feet. And a crooner stood by a piano, her velvet voice weaving through the room as she sang an old ballad. Aaron knew what song it was. So would Kenny, and Aaron’s mouth fell open.

“What is this?” he asked as couples swayed beneath the chandelier, dancing together in the ballroom.

Most were older. As to be expected of such a place. Men in pressed suits with greying hair and women in elegant dresses whispering as they moved. Aaron watched them promenading across the ballroom, then noticed younger couples dotted in there too. A pair of men were together, their bodies close, expressions serene as they moved in unison to the soft rhythm of the music. And close to them, two women laughed quietly as they twirled, cheeks flushed with joy.

Jesus . Kenny really did do his research.

After a brief exchange with the man on the door, Kenny led them both inside the hall, which could have catered to a royal wedding, and he weaved through the tables toward the bar.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Aaron looked at all the drinks. “What do you have in a place like this?” He felt his usual JD and Coke might not go down so well here. “A fucking cocktail? Shaken not stirred?”

Kenny chuckled, then turned to the barman. “Two whiskys. One neat, one with Coke.”

The server went off to get the drinks, and Aaron shook his head. “You’re a sly prick.” He swatted Kenny’s chest with the back of his hand as the music swelled to a dramatic end, couples all twisting and turning.

“I pride myself on it.” Kenny paid for the drinks, then held his glass up in salute.

Aaron clinked his with it and they gazed out to the couples as the piano and singer started another rendition.

“Admit it,” Kenny said into his ear. “It’s better than beefcakes grinding against you.”

“Depends who the beefcakes are.” Aaron took a sip of his drink, lips curving around the rim.

“Perhaps I should have stood on the sidelines longer. You might have found one to your choosing. As from where I was, it seemed you weren’t all that interested.”

“They have to fight for me.” Aaron winked. “The ones who stay the round, get to pound.”

Kenny laughed. “That so?”

“Uh-huh.”

“As I recall, that first night, I walked away from you.”

“That was different.”

“Yeah.” Kenny knocked back his whisky. “It was.” He angled his head. “Come on.”

“What?”

“I didn’t come here to sit on the sideline.” He held out his hand. “I said I wanted to dance with you. So dance with me.”

Aaron hesitated, pressing the rim of his glass to his lips as he took another sip of whisky and Coke. The burn in his throat was nothing compared to the nerves in his chest. As much as he wanted this—to dance out in the open with Kenny —there was still that familiar, gnawing apprehension.

Like stepping off the edge of a cliff into the unknown.

But with Kenny steady in front of him, hand outstretched, eyes filled with quiet reassurance, looking so striking, like something out of an old black-and-white film, timeless and achingly real, Aaron’s unease cracked. A slow fissure widened with every second he met Kenny’s gaze. So he tipped back the rest of his drink, letting the warmth spread through him, and then— fuck it —he slapped his hand into Kenny’s with a resounding smack.

Kenny laced their fingers, and Aaron let himself be led through the maze of tables to the dancefloor. The moment Kenny turned to him, drawing him in, the world outside them faded, shrinking to just this. Them .

They’d danced like this before. Late at night, in Kenny’s kitchen, bathed in the soft hum of lamplight. Their shared love for old classics had stitched those moments together, weaving something unspoken between them. Dusty Springfield’s mournful ballads. Lesley Gore’s rebellious ache. Etta James’s velvet yearning. Patsy Cline’s haunted lullabies. Not just music, but a language only they understood. A refuge.

And here, in this room of strangers and swaying figures, that connection thrummed between them again when Kenny settled his hands on his waist, firm, knowing, pulling him close. The way he did in bed. The way that made Aaron let go . So he closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him, but the melodies were already etched into his bones. His mother’s voice haunted every note, soft but sharp, always humming along in the back of his mind. These were the songs of his childhood, the soundtrack to a life long since shattered.

But now… it was different.

The past didn’t sting quite as much, because this wasn’t the past. This was Kenny’s gift. A way to take something ruined and reshape it into something beautiful. Something that belonged to them.

Then Kenny looked at him. No restraint. No masks. Just that quiet, unwavering gaze that always saw straight through him. The affection behind those dark eyes hit Aaron like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, fighting the heat rising behind his eyes. He’d never known softness like this. Never let himself crave it.

Because this wasn’t like the way Kenny usually touched him—hard, fast, desperate. As if the world would tear them apart if they didn’t claim each other first. This was tender. Slow. The way Kenny looked at him when he was inside him, when he wasn’t thrusting, wasn’t moving—just staring. Holding. Sharing breath, as if it kept him alive.

Aaron clenched his jaw, gripping Kenny’s shirt to steady himself. If he didn’t hold himself together, he’d cry, or worse—say it.

“I hate you.” He didn’t mean it.

Kenny chuckled, a low, knowing sound, brushing his lips over Aaron’s ear. “Liar.”

The warmth of Kenny’s breath sent a shiver down Aaron’s spine, but it was nothing compared to what boiled in his chest. His pulse pounded, his body screaming with words too big to contain.

I love you.

The words hovered—so close, too close. He had swallowed them down for months, forcing them back every time Kenny pulled him in. Every time they shared a quiet moment where the world outside didn’t matter. Every time Kenny was inside him, holding his gaze, refusing to look away.

But he couldn’t say it.

Not yet.

Because Aaron didn’t trust himself to know what love was. Love, in his mind, was warped. Conditional. Fragile. Dangerous. His mother’s cruelty still echoed in his head, her words a curse that never loosened its grip. “You will suffocate anyone who gets too close.”

So if Kenny said it first—if Kenny loved him first—then Aaron would know. He’d know this aching, unbearable longing wasn’t a mistake. Wasn’t just need or obsession.

That it was real.

That it was love.

Because Kenny knew better than anyone how out of reach love had always been for him.

The moment cracked as Kenny’s voice dipped close, deep and intimate. “So what did you do all day while I was working?”

Aaron exhaled, letting go of the words he wouldn’t— couldn’t —say. “Spa. Steam room. Sauna. Got a massage.”

Kenny hummed in approval. “Nice.”

Aaron peeled himself back just enough to watch Kenny’s reaction and pouted. “No happy ending, though.”

Kenny flexed his fingers on his waist, and his voice turned dark with promise. “Good. I give you the happy endings.”

Aaron fucking hoped so.