Fishy Riot, page 26
He stopped only when he was fully in, marvelling at the tight heat, the way Sietta clutched his shoulders and pulled him closer, wrapping him completely in heat at the same time he let Taylor smother him and shelter him from the world. He’d never felt so complete.
“Move,” Sietta insisted, breathless and panting, shifting his hips impatiently, and Taylor listened. He pulled back and built a rhythm that almost broke him with his need to concentrate on the loitering push and glide, building it so slowly he wanted to scream in frustration but able to hold it because Sietta was crying out for him, begging for more, pleading for him to go faster.
He made it last, made sure Sietta enjoyed every moment. He waited until Sietta lost control of his words and gripped him so tightly his knuckles were white as he shouted his release and spilled across Taylor’s stomach and hip. Then Taylor filled him, aware there was nothing catching his release but skin and bone. He was marking Sietta in ways he’d never thought he would, and his brain was struck dumb, whiting out with the force of his pleasure.
“Breathe,” Sietta panted at him, and he forced air into his lungs, collapsing over him, pressing them together so Sietta was as covered in his cum as he was.
“Let me stay….” He wasn’t ready to pull out yet, still softening and enjoying the feel of Sietta’s muscles shifting around his cock.
“Can’t move,” Sietta murmured. “Feel so good.”
Taylor chuckled breathlessly, held him tight, and kissed his closed eyelids, his temple, his nose, his cheeks… every piece of him he could reach without having to move. He prayed Sietta had liked it and would let him do it again.
“Thank you,” Sietta whispered against his skin.
“Oh, anytime. Believe me. Anytime.”
“Like… in an hour?” Sietta opened his eyes and smirked at him, winning the laugh he obviously wanted from Taylor.
“Sure.” He didn’t think Sietta would be ready, but that was okay. An hour, a day, a week, Taylor would wait as long as he wanted. He’d never been so happy in his life. He slid out reluctantly and moved off the bed, then reached down to hoist Sietta into his arms and kissed his temple again as he carried him into the shower. He took off Sietta’s cast and left it on the closed toilet lid before turning the water on.
It was hot and cleansing, and he soaped them up before rinsing away the evidence of what they had done, paying careful attention to every part of Sietta’s long limbs. He deliberately teased the new ticklish places he had found, thrilled that no one else had ever found them, that he was the first, and determined to be the last.
He dried them off and put the cast back on Sietta’s leg before curling up around him on the bed.
“You know I love you, hmm,” Taylor mused, grinning at the memory now he thought about it.
“Mmm,” Sietta hummed in agreement. Taylor loved the way his chest vibrated against his. “I knew when you body slammed me into the footpath outside your mum’s house.”
“We were being shot at,” Taylor grumbled at the description.
“Body slam,” Sietta whispered, then laughed.
“Brat.”
He lay there, wrapped tight around Sietta, until he fell asleep. When he woke again, it was to the gentle hum of Sietta’s steady breathing, and he realised with a swell of intense heat in his chest that Sietta was asleep.
THE BEDROOM door slammed open.
Taylor woke to the patter of small feet and had just enough sense to pull the sheet up over their waists before Emma dived on the bed and landed on Sietta. Luckily, Sietta was awake and caught her easily.
Emma, however, froze. She stared wide-eyed at Sietta, her bright smile turning to confusion.
“You’re not Uncle Tay.”
“No.”
“You’re Uncle Sietta.”
“Yes.”
Everything froze for a minute before Emma quickly crawled over Sietta and flopped down between them. Taylor saw Sietta cover his reaction with his hand and cough.
“Good morning, princess.”
“Morning, Uncle Tay.” She beamed at him, squirming a little until she was comfortable and then sighing happily. “Your bed is comfy.”
“Uh-huh.” He looked at the open doorway and saw Brayden carrying a bag of groceries into the kitchen. That explained Emma’s presence, not Bray’s.
“You do know your daughter is in bed with two naked men, right?” Clay’s voice came from somewhere else in the apartment, and Taylor sighed. That explained Bray’s presence.
“She’s not in the bed!” Sietta corrected. “She’s on it!” Apparently this distinction was important.
“I don’t think that makes it any better.” Joel’s voice chimed in.
There was movement, and then Clay appeared in the doorway, a crutch under one arm, wincing as he hobbled his way into the bedroom and flopped down on Sietta’s other side, curling up around him and sighing.
“The hell?” Sietta and Taylor said in unison.
“What? He’s warm. And pretty. And naked.”
“And not Joel,” Joel said from where he was leaning on the doorframe, but he was clearly amused by his partner’s antics.
“Uncle Joel has to go to work, so we’re gonna babysit Uncle Clay,” Emma informed them.
“We are?” Sietta sounded unconvinced, looking from Joel to Taylor and then trying to look past Joel to Brayden, who was being suspiciously quiet on the subject.
“Not you,” Emma corrected. “You’re as bad as he is.” She waved an imperious hand at Clay, who smirked and threw his bandaged leg over beside Sietta’s cast to prove her point. Apparently they were both on the babysitting list.
“Sorry,” Joel apologised. “I have a lecture today and there’s no one available to cover for me.”
“It’s fine,” Taylor assured him, amused that he was apparently being dumped with all three of them for the day. “What’s your excuse, Bray?”
“I’m on shift, Kel has to take Jay to some show thing for school, Emma desperately wanted to take care of Uncle Clay instead of going to day care, and it saves me a hundred bucks?”
“Good excuse,” Taylor and Clay muttered together. Ironclad, really.
“Can I get paid?” Sietta asked suddenly, and they all stared at him. “I mean, he was gonna pay a hundred for day care, right? So….”
“How did I never think of that?” Clay frowned at Emma, no doubt thinking of how much money they could have earned by now.
“I’m going to say because the type of family he grew up in likes to chain children to walls, while the kind of family we are likes to babysit for free because we love each other.” Brayden rolled his eyes, ignoring their horrified looks.
Emma’s eyes were wide as she turned to Sietta, her small face far too serious for any good to happen.
“They chain you to walls?”
“Uh….” Sietta searched for help, but found none. “Yes.”
When in doubt, go with the truth. That was the saying, wasn’t it?
Emma crawled closer, and then closer still until they were nose to nose and Sietta could no doubt feel her breathing on him as she searched his face for something.
“Are you a dragon?”
They all remained perfectly still and silent, and turned to Brayden for advice on that one.
“Honey, no, Uncle Sietta isn’t a dragon, and he didn’t lick the walls for water, to survive. He just got kept like one. Merlin, guys, come on… you watch TV! Emma, honey, Uncle Sietta’s a normal guy, okay?”
She did not look convinced. At all.
“Don’t lick the walls. I’m not cleaning that up,” she whispered to him, then flopped back into Taylor’s lap and curled up, apparently content.
“Welcome to the family, dude,” Clay whispered to Sietta. “When Emma’s giving you orders, it means you’re one of us.”
Sietta studied the small child, then smiled and leaned his head on Clay’s shoulder, giving in. He no doubt thought the Jamesons were weird, sure, but they loved each other. They knew what family was, and they didn’t have to try to make it work. It happened naturally. For Sietta, it had to be like falling into an alternate reality and realising the way family worked on TV or in books wasn’t a fairy tale after all. His parents had simply been more interested in money and appearances than their children, and that was just another sad fact he was going to have to accept and move away from. Taylor hoped that was easier to do, when you were ensconced in a warm bed surrounded by people who accepted you.
“I have to go.” Joel came in and gave Clay a soft kiss. “Be good. Emma. Call me if he’s naughty!”
She saluted him.
“I’m off too,” Brayden said, giving Emma a kiss and a hug. “Take good care of your uncles, and don’t eat all the marshmallows!”
“What if Uncle Tay eats them all?”
“He won’t. I will know it was you, and you will not get marshmallows again.”
“What, ever?” She was horrified, and Brayden nodded sternly. They watched her wilt in his stern glare. “Okay. But can I have ten?”
“Just ten!” Brayden agreed and then abandoned them.
There was a moment, but it wasn’t one of the calming ones where everything stopped and gave you a time out. It was poignant and full of terror as they wondered what was about to come out of Emma’s mouth.
16: No Secret Desires and Boom.
“LEILA, MICAH, out of the pool! Lunch is almost ready!” Ash called from the barbeque where he stood, in board shorts and thongs, flipping sausages and steaks.
“Almost ready is not ready, Ashley!” Leila refused to move from where she and Micah were sprawled over the back of a giant inflatable swan, sunglasses on and empty plastic cups in hand, sprigs of mint sticking out. It was almost the identical shot Micah had put in his Instagram two hours ago, the pair not having moved except to check the ridiculous number of likes they had received since and laughing over the comments asking who the model was Micah was spending the weekend with. They’d passed the twenty thousand mark some time ago, much to Chloe’s amusement.
“When you drip all over your bread and it gets soggy and your sanga falls to pieces, blame yourself!” Kelly struggled to pull the floaties off Emma’s arms so she could eat without hitting herself in the head.
“Ew! No one eats bread anymore!” Leila called back, still not moving.
“I give it a day,” Chloe drawled from where she was lounging, eyes closed at the edge of the patio where the sun was still bright.
“I give it till dinner.” Hayley snickered. “No way is that girl saying no to garlic bread with her spaghetti.”
Taylor ignored them, his gaze fixed on Sietta, in the living room with Daniel, Ben, and Joel, signing off the last of the paperwork that would leave Micah fostered with Joel indefinitely. They’d already spent the morning wading through the charges that the rest of Sietta’s family had faced. Johnathan Salisbury had been given twenty years for the various crimes committed. Louisa had been given twelve, with a chance for parole after eight, much to Sietta’s chagrin. Anders had been given ten years, Viola five—only Viola was nowhere to be found. There were permanent restraining orders for the family, to protect Micah and Sietta. The paperwork had been obnoxious, but Ben had led them through it with ease, explaining everything in almost painful detail. Sietta had simply put his name to everything, page after page until they sat back and Daniel poured them all a drink.
Sietta hobbled out the screen door, still unwieldy with his cast, and sat down heavily in Taylor’s lap, relaxing completely against him and sighing in relief. Joel followed him out but sat beside Clay rather than on him, much to Clay’s chagrin.
“All done?”
“Mostly,” Sietta agreed. “There’s a publisher interested in picking up my book. I have to send them a copy, but I’m gonna let Taylor read it first.”
Taylor was going to hate it. He would be in a foul mood for however long it took to read it, but he wanted to read every page before anyone else got their hands on it. He refused to let anyone have a part of Sietta that wasn’t his first.
“Thank you.”
“So… this grenade they shot you with.” Ben emerged from inside, still in his suit, but he’d taken off his tie and undone the top three buttons, the coat sitting inside on a lounger. He’d even rolled up the sleeves and let his hair down. It was a dramatically different look from the court proceedings he’d been involved in that morning.
“I didn’t get shot with the grenade!” Clay let his head fall back and groaned. “They threw the grenade at both of us, in the dumbwaiter! Then I got shot with a handgun!”
“It just doesn’t make sense that the handgun did more damage than the grenade,” Hayley muttered, waving at his bandaged leg.
“Tell that to the dumbwaiter. That thing’s like a giant hole in the basement. They can’t remove anything from the storage lockers until the repairs are done, but the structural damage to the building is pretty bad, so it’ll be months yet.” Taylor had had to help move the drugs to a different facility, and without the dumbwaiter that had proved a complex task.
“So it killed your building and barely scratched you?” Hayley stared at him dubiously.
“Uncle Tay is instruc-ble.” Emma was finally freed of her floaties and moved straight to Taylor’s side, glaring at Sietta until he obediently moved into an empty chair and gave up Taylor’s lap to the midget.
“Uh-huh….” They were all entirely unimpressed and did not agree with her assessment at all, which was understandable, since while his black eye had healed, he still had a bright pink scar healing from his own bullet wound, though the bandage was long gone.
“Where did they get a grenade?” Ben asked.
“From this raid we did on this illegal import.” Clay waved his hand, indifferent, clearly trying to end the conversation before it got out of hand.
“Yes, but how did they import them?” The conversation had awakened Chloe’s writer’s curiosity. “I mean, this is Australia. We have laws for that sort of thing.”
“Illegally?” Brayden pointed out, clearly dumbfounded that no one seemed to be catching on to that part of the story.
“Yes, but did they bring them in on a boat, a plane, did they build them at home… there’s a lot of ways to do something illegal, you know!”
“We know,” Clay and Taylor said in unison, Clay rolling his eyes.
“It’s pretty easy to smuggle stuff in on a boat,” Ashley pointed out. “We’ve got a lot of coast and not a lot of coastguards.”
“Speculation is not fact.” Ben frowned at them all. “If you don’t know how the guns got here, how are you going to stop it from happening again?”
“Well gee, if that was my job, I suppose I’d have to give it a bit more thought. Fortunately, my job is just to go in when they fail to stop the import, and seize it.” Taylor rolled his eyes. He was so done with the conversation and deliberately turned to Ash.
“So, you got a new car.” A nice shiny, new ute as a matter of fact.
“Isn’t it sweet?” Ash put a massive tray of meat in the middle of the table amongst the salads Kelly had already laid out.
“It’s awesome, Uncle Ash!” Jay came running out of the house, abandoning his movie in the lounge room to investigate the scent of food.
“It’s expensive,” Daniel countered. “What happens when you decide to park it at the fire again?”
“That was one time!” Ashley protested. “And you’ll be pleased to know I got reprimanded for taking my own vehicle to a fire, so shut up about it already!”
“Language!” Chloe scolded. “Do not speak to your father like that.”
“Taylor speaks like that all the time!”
“Taylor’s an asshole,” Clay reminded him, and Ashley sighed and started making a sausage sandwich instead of arguing. Smart boy.
Micah and Leila appeared by the table, dripping a small lake of pool water as they tossed steak and salad on plates and hurried off to bake on the lawn in the sun, trying to find the perfect position to lie in for another Instagram-worthy shot.
“I want to be young again and have nothing more to worry about than whether that filter makes me look fat,” Hayley moaned. “I should never have gotten married.”
“You’re married?” Sietta choked on the cheese square he’d just popped in his mouth, coughing to get it to go down. “To who?”
“Joe,” everyone said in stumped unison, as if this were common knowledge.
“Okay.” Sietta looked around the table, but no one elaborated so he looked to Taylor for answers. “Where is Joe?”
“Joe’s smart,” Taylor replied, nodding as if this was sage information. “Joe works for an engineering firm where everyone is happily married, with kids, and no one wants to work Saturday and miss family barbeques….”
“Joe works Saturdays,” Sietta acknowledged, then laughed at the disgusted look on Hayley’s face. “Joe is wise.”
His phone buzzed, and Sietta fished it out of the pocket of his black jeans, staring at the small Nokia screen, which wasn’t backlit and so was hard to read in the sun’s glare.
“You need a new phone,” Clay muttered.
“Never. This one will never die. It will outlive all of you,” Sietta distractedly disagreed, still trying to read the text.
“Good news?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah, that cellist I mentioned is keen to start playing together.”
Sietta had been panicking about even contacting the mysterious student he apparently liked to stalk in his free time. He’d not been able to go to the guy’s concerts while locked in the basement, but he’d heard about him and sent Micah with a video camera to record him. It had been simple curiosity at first, but eventually Micah had been sent to every single show the poor guy did, and Sietta would sit and watch the footage and ask a hundred questions that Micah didn’t know the answers to. Taylor had heard all about it in an hour-long bemoaning session when they had Micah over for dinner, and Sietta had asked where the guy was playing next.
Taylor had got tickets, and while it was not his kind of music, he’d sat through a two-hour recital of Bach cello solos, and even he had to admit the sound of the instrument was haunting. That did not explain the epic crush Sietta apparently had on the way the man played.
