The Neverloving Dead (Haunted Hearts)

EPILOGUE

LIFE AFTER DEATH

PATRICK

One year later

E xcitement was beginning to stir in Patrick’s belly – in part, that was down to the sight that greeted his eyes. Mostly, it was for what he and Gethin had planned for afterwards.

“You first, then,” Gethin said. He looked even more gorgeous these days: glowing, relaxed and, now he was free of his murderer, settled. He seemed to take pleasure in everything. Patrick loved it. Loved him. And the man had transformed his limbo.

He looked at him now...

... then down at the two men on the bed, who were both naked, both in their late thirties, both reasonably attractive and both looking nervously at each wall in turn, as if they might actually see something burst from them. One was half-hard, the other appeared more apprehensive. He’d need a little more encouragement.

Which was fine. Patrick and Gethin were well-practised by now and they had a little time: these two were their last ‘spectral visitation’ of the night.

Not just the night, actually.

Stuart had made an extravagant sum from the Soho B but when it had come to it, he hadn’t. It was an unusual arrangement, true, but Patrick and Gethin were in an unusual situation. Both damned now. They looked at it as experimentation. Enjoyment, for themselves and the living. Patrick hoped it might even reassure some of them about what came next: that there was something . Gethin was just pleased everyone was definitely willing, since Orgasm with a Phantasm was the B probably why they’d picked the Fairyland Surprise. “Patrick, we still haven’t sex up Big bloody Ben,” Gethin pointed out, “but I dunno, I reckon we should see how far we can go. At this rate, we might even be able to travel the world one day, like that incubus you met.” He glowed brighter at the thought, knuckles slipping past Jason’s sphincter.

“Oh my god, he’s f...fisting me,” Jason breathed. “Oh my god, Russell. Oh my god. Oh my god.” He was so hard, his cock was almost purple.

“I bet I can make mine come first,” Gethin grinned.

Patrick doubted it.

Gethin just leant forwards, eyes on Patrick, and all but swallowed Jason’s cock.

Jason looked as if he might die.

Below Patrick, though, Russell’s grunts were slowly moving into a more serious, focused register.

Patrick rode him harder, but his eyes stayed locked on Gethin’s. “I’ve never looked forward to spending time with anyone so much,” he said. It was one thing Patrick hadn’t minded waiting for. They were going on holiday, like any other couple. He was having a normal life, a normal relationship.

Beneath him, Russell’s little snarls and pants grew more rhythmic, a little deeper.

An almost normal relationship, he amended.

Gethin’s eyebrows went up, as if realising he might lose his own bet. He began to move his fist a little faster. “Oh my god, I’m splitting,” Jason moaned, apparently in ecstasy at the prospect. He clutched the grey duvet cover.

“I wish I could see,” muttered Russell, who was definitely nearing his orgasm by now.

Gethin rolled his eyes, sucking up the length of Jason’s cock and off. They had a rule that if anyone asked for something specific during one of their ‘play sessions’, they would try to give it. It was far from the first time they’d had this particular request, but it did require a change of position, which was never easy.

On the other hand, they really did want to get away...

Using the fact he was already up to his wrist in Jason’s arse, Gethin pulled to one side, tapping Jason’s thigh to urge him to move, plainly hoping he’d take the hint.

He did, rolling gingerly over and getting to his knees to let Gethin manoeuvre him so his head was facing the statue and his arse was facing Russell, legs wide. Russell hissed, pushing himself onto his elbows.

Gethin’s fist was still in Jason, its invisibility leaving a gaping hole for Russell to look at. The man’s eyebrows climbed, mouth opening – in shock, arousal or both. Gethin began moving his fist: slowly to begin with, to give Russell the best, most thorough view possible.

Russell’s eyelashes fluttered.

Patrick had no doubt which of the two men was going to come first.

Gethin rolled his eyes.

“I love you,” Patrick told him. He really did. He’d never imagined he could love anyone this much.

Jason gasped. Patrick wondered what Gethin had just done. “I love you too,” the Welshman grinned.

“Fuck,” Russell managed, eyes glued to the sight of Jason’s arsehole stretching and pulsing impossibly. Patrick clenched his arse and went faster. A mere minute later, the word was repeated, then again, then again, a little more urgent each time. Patrick kept moving, leaning back a little to let the man deeper, displaying his own cock better for Gethin. His prostate felt fantastic.

“Fuck,” Russell breathed again as Patrick slowed, reading him. “Fuck... I’m coming. Your arse looks so good, Jason. So good. I’m... fuck... Jason, I’m coming!”

Semen spurted inside Patrick – long, strong spatters that instantly began soaking in, rippling through him. Light. Energy. Strength. Life ...

Patrick pulled at the air. Smelled sweat.

He closed his eyes and absorbed it all – the scent and the come – feeling their rightness, relieved to his core that he had this as an alternative to blood.

Jason huffed, head dropping forwards. Gethin dipped his own head around Jason’s hip, which twisted his fist around a little and made Jason groan like he might pass out. A few slightly awkward seconds later, he got his mouth around at least some of Jason’s cock, which was oozing pre-come over the bedding. Patrick could see Gethin was hard too. Enjoying it. Enjoying Jason. Gethin sucked the tip in.

And that was it. Jason’s long, echoing cry rivalled any ghost’s. Russell’s eyes widened as Jason came, in what looked, possibly, to be the most powerful orgasm of his life.

Gethin drank and drank, looking terribly pleased with himself.

Patrick kept wriggling on Russell for a little while, in a kind of slow farewell to his cock – then pulled off. Russell and Jason would want each other now. And he wanted Gethin.

Jason’s head came up. He appeared to be sobbing. He crawled into Russell’s arms.

“Happy Anniversary, honey,” Russell grinned.

Jason sniffed happily, wiping his eyes. “I’m marrying you all over again, just so we can do this twice a year.”

Leaving his cassock off, Patrick pulled Gethin into a hug, which jostled their erections together. “I’m so proud of you,” he told him. He couldn’t be any prouder.

“Proud?” Gethin smirked. “For fisting someone insensible, is it? Who says romance is dead?”

Patrick kissed his mouth, actually tasting Jason’s come. Perhaps not as strong as in life, but it was there. “Yes, proud. Look what you’ve done.” Beneath them, Russell and Jason were kissing passionately, love brimming from them as they clung together, celebrating each other.

“What we did,” Gethin said, reaching behind him to tinkle the bells again – their sign they were leaving. The men’s heads came up.

“Thanks, ghosts,” Russell called.

“Yes, thanks,” Jason added. They both waved at the statue.

“Come on, you.” Gethin kissed Patrick’s nose, bringing another faint waft of semen, then slapped his arse, hurrying him into his cassock and out of the room.

“ Such a shame ghosts can’t change their outfits,” Patrick said, pulling the black tent down over himself.

“Speak for yourself – my shirt’s gonna look cracking in Mykonos,” Gethin winked. “First time in my whole afterlife that I’ll fit in, instead of looking like I died at a Tom Selleck party. Honestly, if I’d known I’d have to wear whatever I died in for all eternity, I’d have been a bit choosier.”

“ You look fabulous.”

“Yeah, but a cassock gives you gravitas, doesn’t it?” He lifted his eyebrows. “And they’re gonna love it at the Tantric Altar. Imagine: ceremonial candles, a serious-looking priest lifting his robes to reveal his giant Staff of Life and give them ‘cum-union’ or whatever it was Stuart said. What am I meant to do? Pop up in my Hawaiian shirt, red boots and bugger all else, serving them pi?a coladas?”

Patrick gave him a look, knowing full well they were thinking the same thing.

“He’d call them penis coladas , wouldn’t he?” Gethin conceded after a few moments.

“He’s probably already written the cock tail menu.”

Gethin chuckled, leaving the bedroom through the closed door and float-walking towards the stairs. “ Jizz and Tonic , Sex on the Spectres ... Although actually,” he turned, grinning, “fair play to Stuart, he’d make sure we were the ones getting served. I mean, talk about living your best afterlife.”

Patrick couldn’t help laughing. He loved knowing Gethin regretted nothing about his decision to stay. About them . He watched Gethin’s back now, enjoying its tanned, muscled curves, so unlike his own. It still amazed him that he could have this: not just connection and pleasure and his senses, but this man. Everything good had always seemed out of his reach. But Gethin said Patrick made him feel valued for the first time in either life, and that he thought Patrick was ‘sexy as sin’, and that he loved his intensity and that his penis alone had been worth getting damned for.

Which Patrick had found was everything he needed to hear.

They floated down the stairs, the polished walnut bannisters gleaming richly in the moonlight.

Stuart would be in bed by now, but he’d said he’d leave a holiday gift on the reception desk. They rounded the bottom of the flight, crossing the lobby, making their way there together. Like most of the wood in the place, the counter was dark walnut and highly polished. There was a snug behind it with a brass plaque over the arched entrance. The plaque read ‘ cwtch ’ – which Gethin had spelled for him over the ouija board. Stuart had stocked it with books, so Patrick could memorise new things for his own book, which he’d be taking with them.

On the desk, beneath a paperweight of a rainbow skull, was a newspaper article. Gethin lifted the paperweight off, frowning.

“Page sixteen,” he pointed out.

In other words, they’d never have seen it on a newsstand.

Local man cleared of gruesome priest murder – Campaign to free Lambeth man is successful .

“It’s Finn,” Gethin said. He beamed.

Patrick watched him, knowing he’d read out the important parts, since he always did. Stuart had known how much this case meant to them – in his ongoing quest to show his appreciation for them making him wealthier than a baron, he’d even donated twenty thousand pounds to the appeal. If he’d had any inkling as to who had actually killed the priest, he’d been polite enough to keep it to himself.

“Finn Doyle was a regular at Gayle’s Bar in Elephant and Castle,” Gethin read, “victim... picked up there on the night of Father Graham’s death... the Manse... Police have still to ascertain the identity of the person who left photographs in Chief Inspector Sullivan’s office, which led the police to link four previous murders of gay men across London with Mr Doyle’s kidnap... yet to find another suspect for Father Graham’s murder... DNA evidence confirmed his role in all four murders... we know all this... blah blah... aha! Police now accept they failed to cross-reference the data properly. Judge Glover also said there was no evidence Mr Doyle had attacked Father Graham. A toxicology expert also testified that the amounts of Rohypnol still in Mr Doyle’s blood would have rendered him incapacitated at the time of Graham’s murder. The Manse door was unlocked. The judge concluded the killer was not Mr Doyle and overturned his conviction.” He looked up, still smiling, folding the article to show Stuart they’d read it, then setting it back under the paperweight. “He’s free. Cleared of all charges.”

“We should bring him back a gift,” Patrick said. They’d visited Finn several times in prison, never saying who they were or what they’d done in case he started telling people ghosts had murdered the priest and was sectioned instead. It would be nice to tell him who Gethin was, at least.

Gethin drifted closer – not that smoothly, since he was still mastering ghost-movement. “See, it’s these little things I like about you,” he said. “So thoughtful.” He paused. “Here, I made you something.”

“You made me... in limbo?” How had he managed that?

“Yeah, well, not so much ‘made’ as ‘pulled some tassels off my boot’.” He handed Patrick a circle of leather with a knot tied in it. “I made myself one too – kind of ‘his ‘n’ his’, you know? It’s not a proposal of marriage, mind,” he added hastily. “It’s just...”

Patrick’s eyes burned suddenly, though he knew he wouldn’t cry. His heart seemed to be growing in size.

“It’s just... as you know, you’re only the second thing I’ve ever committed to. So I wanted to give you something to say that, you know?” He looked less confident again: a Gethin that Patrick hadn’t seen for a long time. The same one who’d doubted Patrick would think he was worth staying in limbo for.

Patrick took the ring and put it on. It fit perfectly on his middle finger. “Thank you, Gethin.”

The light brown eyes remained clouded with doubt. “You don’t think it’s too... much ?”

Patrick pulled him close, enjoying the way their bodies felt together. “Gethin, I love it. I love you. You’re the best person I’ve ever met. And even if it were a proposal of marriage, I might have considered it. If only marriage didn’t involve priests.”

Gethin chuckled. “Yeah, or ‘until death us do part’. Nah,” he added. “The ring’s just something to say relationships always scared the undead shit out of me, but I actually really like the fact we’re together. To be honest, I thought no one would ever want me for more than my looks.”

Patrick squeezed his arse, nuzzling his neck. “I do only want you for your looks.”

Gethin just laughed again. “That’s okay, I only want you cos of your massive knob. I thought about making you a cock ring, but I didn’t have a big enough tassel.” The laugh simmered into a grin.

Patrick kissed it. “You make me glad I’m damned, Gethin.”

It felt like the largest thing he could say. Neither of them had ever wanted to stay in limbo. For Patrick, after two centuries, it had been the worst prospect imaginable. But with Gethin beside him, his rules all falling away and his senses slowly growing, it was true: for the first time, he was happy.

So maybe there was absolution after all, he thought.

Just a better one than he’d expected.

“Yeah, me too,” Gethin replied, knotting their hands together and drifting badly towards the door, tugging Patrick with him. “Now come on – the world awaits. Or Mykonos anyway. Or Eastbourne.”

Patrick didn’t care where it was.

He only cared that it was with Gethin. Now.

In this life.