CHAPTER 12

Donnie had been working at the surgery for two weeks, and Will couldn’t imagine how he’d managed without him. Yes, he’d had an admin assistant at his last place—at least, he’d shared one with the other vets in the practice—but Will had been far down the pecking order, and the help had been less than stellar.

Yet stellar was the only word to describe Donnie’s careful and thorough attention to his work.

“The list of today’s appointments is on your desk,” Donnie said, after they arrived together that morning. It was an easy routine, when they’d spent the night before at Donnie’s. Spent it kissing and teasing, and then Donnie had introduced Will to the amazing, astonishing, ecstatic practice of rimming, and Will had found it nigh on impossible to tear himself away from Donnie’s pert, wiggling arse, even when Donnie wailed—and laughed—that he was getting cramp in his thigh, and could he please get his hands and mouth on Will in return, some time before Christmas?

“Mr Cartwright? Are you ready for your ten o’clock appointment?” Donnie was smiling a little slyly at him, as if knowing Will’s mind was elsewhere, but the formal title meant there was a patient involved. Donnie ushered in a young man from the waiting area.

Will had to admit, the spiders were a bit of a shock.

The owner brought them carefully into the surgery in cardboard boxes. He carried two, Donnie brought the third one in to help out. Thank god Donnie wasn’t one of those guys who couldn’t cope with crawly things. That wasn’t to say these weren’t pretty large—and hairy—crawly things.

The young man also seemed calm enough with the tarantulas. He was slim, moved quite gracefully, and had a shock of lovely red hair. Will couldn’t help noticing he also had a smile to die for. He looked at Will very intently as he introduced himself, and with that flash of recognition that acknowledged at first glance they were both gay. But there was no hint of come-on, just a second breath of relaxation. Will wondered if the man had suffered discrimination before. That smile of his was gorgeous but could perhaps be misconstrued by less mature people.

The spiders were very still and were hunched over. For a worried moment, Will thought they might be dead, but then one leg twitched. “I think it’s just dehydration,” he said. “It’s easily cured. Have they been without water for any length of time?” He gently touched one of the spiders’ abdomen. It was shrivelled and seemed sunken,

“You mustn’t handle them too much,” the young man said. He was at least twenty, Will reckoned, but he had a simplistic manner that was more reminiscent of a teen.

Will nodded. “Thanks for reminding me,” he said carefully. He checked the boy’s name on the sheet Donnie had helpfully brought in with the boxes. “Eric. I don’t often get pets like this.”

“You don’t?” Eric looked delighted. “I always wanted something special. They’re good company. But I don’t think they’d been looked after properly before I found them.”

“Found them?”

Eric shrugged. “Tim left our house suddenly. I think his dad turned up, with a new job, and so he went to live with him. Snap, Crackle and Pop had been in Tim’s room, but they were left behind. Until I took them in.”

“Snap, Crackle and Pop?” Will laughed. “You’re too young to remember that advert!”

Eric tilted his head, his gaze steady but puzzled. “It was on the TV. One of the satellite channels.”

“It was an old advert for breakfast cereal,” Will said. Way to make him feel old.

“I liked the sound.” Eric looked at the spiders. “The names suit them.”

Will decided not to question such certainty. “You can feed them water with an eye dropper if you have one. Or I can get you some information on setting up a temporary container with a damp layer, so they can rehydrate.”

“Thank you,” Eric said with sweet politeness. “How much do I owe you?”

“You can see Donnie outside for that,” Will said. “He deals with the billing. Tell him…” He hesitated for a moment, gauging the way the boy had tensed, his hand tightly on his jeans pocket where his wallet must be. “Tell him you qualify for today’s special rate.”

“Special rate?”

“Yes.” Will was making this up on the hoof. He wondered how he could let Donnie know he wanted to charge this boy as little as possible? It didn’t look like he could afford very much at all. Something about his restraint, the awkward fit of his possibly secondhand clothes.

Eric carried his boxes very carefully out to the desk. Will hovered behind him, trying to catch Donnie’s eye over the boy’s bent head.

“Thank you Mr Cartwright,” Donnie said. “I have this.”

“Do you have Eric’s details—?”

“I know him,” Donnie said with a grin at Eric, who smiled back. “Eric lives at Handfart—”

Will raised his eyebrows.

“Handfast House,” Donnie said firmly and clearly, though his mouth tweaked at the sides as he held in a grin. “I caught the end of your consultation, and I’ve run off some notes about caring for tarantulas.”

Donnie handed a few printed sheets to Eric who started reading immediately. Then he seemed to remember where he was and what he should be dealing with. “How much, please?”

“That’ll be six pounds,” Donnie said clearly. His gaze flicked over to Will, who nodded and smiled at him with gratitude.

“Is that all?”

“It’s a special offer.” Donnie took a glance around the waiting room where a couple of other owners waited. Bless him, Will thought, he was making sure they didn’t hear and demand the same special treatment. They all looked like they could afford the usual rates.

Eric handed over the money solemnly and carefully. “Mr Pennington, our caretaker, said it would be more. He wanted me to let them die.”

“Sometimes it’s kinder if the pet is very sick,” Will said gently. “But these guys will perk up in no time.”

Eric didn’t seem to be listening. He was looking at the ledger Donnie had opened when he took Eric’s money. It was a thick accounts book with blue lines and several columns. Donnie had already mentioned something about Will needing a spreadsheet for the accounts, but Will confessed he was in denial when it came to practical I.T.

“It should be twenty five,” Eric said.

Donnie frowned. “What should?”

“Column five. The total on line twelve. You’ve written twenty three.”

Will cleared his throat. “Actually. That’s my handwriting. Sorry.”

“Well, it’s wrong,” Eric said, though his tone was mild.

Donnie tilted his head as if looking at Eric afresh. “Are you good with numbers, Eric? Can you create spreadsheets?”

Eric stared with amazement, as if Donnie had asked Eric if he could put on his own socks of a morning. “Of course. I can set that up for you.”

“No macros or anything?” Donnie glanced quickly, almost guiltily at Will. “I don’t think Will—Mr Cartwright—needs anything that sophisticated.”

“No problem. You need cross checks per week and a summary sheet for the financial year to date. The ability to sort by client name and invoice status.” Eric beamed that marvellous smile of his at Donnie. “I have time on Thursday, between four fifteen and five. I’m meeting someone after that.”

Donnie looked delighted, though amused at Eric’s precision. “That would be great. I’ll see you then.”

Will didn’t know what language they were speaking, as they stood chatting and smiling at each other, but it looked like Donnie had it all in hand.

His heart seemed suddenly too big for his rib cage, which was, of course, ridiculous.

Maybe Donnie had that in hand, too.

 

 

They locked up again that evening. Will liked the routine of straightening the surgery before the end of the day, locking up the medicines, cleaning and putting away his instruments, while Donnie finished the filing, which he wanted to keep up with on a daily basis. Donnie took it even further, preparing a list for the following day’s appointments so he could get the files ready for Will in the morning, making sure all the electrical sockets were turned off at the wall, emptying the rubbish into the appropriate bins in Will’s room.

Will had an ulterior motive too. When Donnie came into the consultation room to tidy the mess Will had inevitably made, Will could scoop his arm around Donnie’s waist and pull him in for a kiss. Or three.

“You taste good.”

“Yeah?” Donnie looked rueful. “I had a curried tuna sandwich for lunch.”

“Maybe I like curried tuna,” said Will, though he didn’t. But all he could taste was Donnie. Donnie’s tongue darted strongly, fiercely, into Will’s mouth.

“Really?”

“Well. No, actually. I prefer sea bass.” At Donnie’s blink, he rushed on, “But I like you, so that’s just as good.”

Donnie chuckled. “And I like you in uniform.”

“Uniform?”

Donnie ran his fingers along the lapel of Will’s white coat. Donnie had slim, supple fingers. Will couldn’t help remembering them on his cock, his balls, stroking his shoulders, his armpits even… His thoughts were rambling and his heartbeat had increased. “Uniform, eh? You have a thing about that?”

Donnie searched Will’s face. “Hey, don’t worry. I don’t have any strange fetishes. At least, not if you don’t share them.”

Will knew without a doubt that Donnie would share anything Will could suggest. Not that anything came to mind: his brain seized up with excitement at the mere thought of getting naked with Donnie. No question that Donnie was the adventurous one when it came to sex, though Will was catching on fast. The nights in Donnie’s bed were a whirl of passion, but also a chance for Will to experience a young man with few inhibitions.

As in the fact that Will would never have thought to mess with Donnie in his surgery waiting room, even after hours, even if everything professional had been tidied away, even if the blinds were down at the front of the shop to shield them from outside passers-by—

But as Donnie sank to his knees, it was obviously not a worry for Donnie.

“Oh god. Donnie!”

“Hush. No one can see us, but the walls are thin. I know, I live next door to the launderette and it’s open until late. I have to turn up the TV over the sound of the driers sometimes.”

“Donnie?”

“Hm?”

Will’s laugh was ragged. “No worries about chatting. I can’t maintain a sensible conversation.”

“I’ll use my mouth elsewhere then, shall I?” And he swiped his tongue over the top of Will’s cock.

And all talking ceased.