The Wild Heart by David Menon Read Free Book Online Page A

them’.
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
    The next morning Mark and Ian were sitting up in Ian’s bed eating toast and drinking tea.
         ‘ At least we’re using plates this time’ said Ian.
         ‘ Yes, that was a very amusing little game we played last night’.
         ‘ We should be locked up for what we did’.
         ‘ Go on then’ said Mark ‘ Bring out the handcuffs’.
         They laughed and Mark stroked the side of Ian’s face. It was clear that this big Irishman carried a lot of demons around but he’d wait until he was ready to bring them out and when he did, Mark would clear up whatever mess they left. He had no idea what they could be but he reassured himself with the thought that he’d be worried if a man of thirty-eight years old didn’t have baggage or demons of some kind or another.
         ‘ The only time I eat breakfast at home is on the weekend’ said Ian
         ‘ You don’t get time in the week?’
         ‘ Well we’re on site by eight o’clock and not having breakfast before I leave means more time in bed. And haven’t you noticed that wherever there’s a building site there’s always a greasy spoon café nearby that serves all the egg and bacon rolls a bricklayer can lay his hands on?’.
         ‘ Yes I’ve noticed’ said Mark, smirking. ‘ Well I’ve noticed all the builder totty in such places anyway’.
         ‘ Behave’.
         ‘ You weren’t saying that last night’ said Mark as he placed a piece of toast in Ian’s mouth. ‘ In fact, you were positively encouraging me to misbehave’.
         Ian fingered the corner of Mark’s mouth ‘ That’s because you’re so good at it’.
         Mark took the plate from Ian’s hand and placed it next to his own on the bedside table with the mugs of tea. He moved on his lips and kissed him. ‘ Enough of breakfast’.
         Once their desires had been sated, they wrapped around each other and although he’d never needed anyone to hold his hand through life, Mark felt the most incredible sense of peace. He ran his fingers through the thick black fur on Ian’s chest.  
         ‘ Ian, you really don’t have to wonder about me, you know’ said Mark.
         ‘ I know’.
         ‘ So you’re not wanting to hold back anymore?’
         ‘ I’m working through it’.
         ‘ And you can tell me anything, you know, anything at all’.
         Ian squeezed his new lover. ‘ Maybe one day’ he said. He didn’t have the first idea about how he could tell Mark that he was an assassin for the state and that he’d dispatched dozens of men to their deaths in the line of duty. That didn’t make for very easy pillowtalk.
         ‘ It’ll be time for lunch soon’ said Mark.
         ‘ What are you doing for it?’
         ‘ Going over to my brother’s in Whaley Bridge. They’re not doing it until four though so I’ll get the train from Piccadilly later’.
         ‘ Do you want to come back here tonight?’
         ‘ If you want me to?’
         ‘ I do’ said Ian ‘ Very much’.
         Mark smiled to himself. This was a result.
         ‘ Mark, I’ve been meaning to ask you’ said Ian. ‘ What happened to your parents?’
         Mark waited for a moment and then told the story. ‘ They’d been on a coach trip to London for the weekend with my Dad’s work. On the way back the driver fell asleep at the wheel and crashed the coach into the central reservation of the M1 which sent it flying across the opposite carriageway. Dad died instantly, Mum died the next day of her injuries’.
         ‘ And how old were you?’
         ‘ Fourteen’.
         ‘ So what did you do?’
         ‘ Well my maternal grandparents moved in with us initially but they soon realised that my brother Simon and I could cope by ourselves. I’ll miss my parents to my dying day and sometimes it cuts through me like a knife when I