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The thing was, Aaron was a genuinely self-aware person – years of struggling with your mental health, counselling, the works, sort of did that to you – and so he’d known from the moment he saw Robert walk into his wedding, six years older but still Robert, still his Robert, all blonde hair and blue eyes and everything Aaron had ever wanted, exactly where this was going to go.
It was why he’d called the police, told them about Robert skipping his meeting, gotten him sent back inside for violating the terms of his license – Aaron had known, even in the moment, that it was a shitty thing to do to Robert, but if he didn’t, Aaron had been entirely certain he’d be ending his wedding night with the wrong Sugden. Robert had just always had that affect on him.
Seeing him around the village – it was hard, harder than Aaron had ever imagined it would be. He’d dreamed of the day Robert would come back for a long time, dreamt up all sorts of scenarios of how it might happen – Robert would get in touch, for the first time in six years, and ask Aaron to pick him up from prison, and they’d go off into the sunset together; or Robert would walk into the Woolpack and sweep Aaron off his feet, like the last six years hadn’t happened. It was childish fantasy, for the most part, and so Aaron had tried to force himself to move on, and forget it, to pretend as though there was no chance that Robert would ever return, but he had, and it was hard, it was really hard to watch Robert exist in the same place as him again and not take, and take, and take.
Aaron had never been good at denying himself Robert Sugden.
That’s why he had to keep Robert at an arm’s length – ignoring him, snapping at him angrily, when Robert did try and speak to him, reverting to habits of old, back when the affair had blown up in their faces and Aaron was angry, furious at Robert for all he’d done, all the harm he’d caused – and admittedly, angry that Robert still hadn’t chosen him. It had taken Aaron a long time to be able to admit that to himself, that even then, despite how much he’d hated Robert, he’d still wanted him to choose Aaron.
If he kept Robert at arm’s length, then maybe there was some chance of Aaron not blowing his marriage up mere months after marrying John. John was good, he was stable, he was safe – and Aaron loved him, he did, but the problem had always been Robert, and the fact that Aaron wasn’t sure if he was capable of loving someone the way he did Robert. That had always been the issue, even before Robert had gotten out of prison – the love Aaron had felt for the people who’d come after, it always paled in comparison to the way Robert seemed to just set him alight.
Aaron tried to tell himself that was good – that the way he had felt about Robert had always been earth-shattering, for better, and often, for worse, and that he didn’t need that in his life anymore, that he needed safe, and stable, like John.
Except –
Well, there was a part of him that still desperately craved the way Robert had made him feel. Struck by lightning, his mum had said. There was truth to that – Aaron had been dumbstruck, the first time Robert had pressed his lips to Aaron’s own, in that layby, and the feeling had never lessened, in the years they’d been together, and not together. If anything, it had only gotten worse, Aaron’s head set spinning, all those years ago, and he wasn’t sure it had ever stopped, not when it came to Robert.
Robert had always made him feel as though he was burning up from the inside out, and the gentle way that John touched him, the way he cradled Aaron as though he was made up of all these broken pieces he was trying to hold together wasn’t enough. Aaron craved the way Robert had been reckless, with him, the way he’d never treated Aaron as though he couldn’t give as good as he got, the way he grinned with delight when Aaron slammed him against walls and threw bitter, hateful words at him.
Aaron missed the way Robert was gentle, too – the way he touched Aaron so reverently, the way he’d worshiped Aaron, the way he’d let Aaron push his hands against the mattress and kiss him, long, and slow, the embraces intimate and syrupy, long nights burned into Aaron’s memory, nights that had happened on the other side of the wall of the flat he lived in with John now, Robert’s moans and whimpers and whispered ‘I love yous’ etched into the brick of The Mill.
He missed him. Aaron had always missed Robert, and he missed him even more now that Robert was back, and maybe that was stupid, but seeing Robert everyday made him miss the other man more.
It didn’t help that Robert was prone to wearing t-shirts, now, the material stretched thin across the broad swell of his shoulders, Robert’s physique different now, a combination of prison and farm-work changing the long, lean body that Aaron had mapped every inch of, the newness of the way Robert looked now something Aaron so badly wanted to see for himself.
He wanted him.
Aaron always wanted him.
He shouldn’t – but he did, and Aaron had never denied himself Robert.
He didn’t much feel inclined to start.
“If you’ve come here to kick off at me, you can give it a rest,” Robert said, in lieu of a greeting, a tired expression etched into every line of his face. Getting older had always suited Robert – Aaron had loved the baby-faced, floppy haired version of Robert who’d first moved back to Emmerdale, all those years ago, but he’d loved the versions of Robert that had come after even more; the ones that were older, more thoughtful, the versions of Robert that had laughter lines and creases in his forehead that hadn’t been there before.
(He could love this version the most – the one that was older, wiser, a Robert that was haunted by his time in prison but still Robert, still his Robert, still scheming and making snarky comments and putting himself in harm’s way, loyal to a fault and still a selfish bastard at heart, everything Aaron had ever wanted for himself).
“Who says I’m here to have a go?” Aaron could barely hide the nerves from his voice. He shouldn’t be doing this – it was the middle of the day, and he was standing in the doorway of Keepers, where anyone could see him talking to Robert, and take that bit of gossip back to John. It was stupid, and reckless, and Aaron knew better – they’d hid an affair for months, and months, last time, he knew it needed to be clandestine meetings under the cover of dark, stolen kisses away from the village they both called home – but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Bullying his way inside the front door, Aaron shut it behind him, leaving the two of them standing in the quiet of the hallway. Distantly, he recognised the sound of the television, some sort of daytime telly playing in the background, the sound of the kettle boiling drowning out the way Aaron felt like he was struggling to catch his breath.
Robert was – well, he’d always been gorgeous, but even more so, now, his blonde hair messy from a day of work at the farm, one of his new wardrobe of t-shirts stretched across his chest, the material a light grey.
He looked nervous.
“Why – why are you here, then?” Robert asked, as if it wasn’t fucking obvious, as if they were going to end up anywhere except here again, as if this story went any other way after Robert crashed Aaron’s wedding, with that stupid, familiar, upturned grin on his face as he went ‘miss me?’ as if he hadn’t turned Aaron’s life upside-down in a thousand different ways since that first kiss they’d shared in a layby between Emmerdale and Hotten.
“Don’t be dense, Robert, it doesn’t suit you,” Aaron shook his head, and before Robert could reply, Aaron kissed him. They’d kissed once before, on the bridge, on the day of Aaron’s wedding, but it had been frenzied, and heated, a clash of mouths that had set Aaron’s head spinning.
This was different.
Now, here, behind closed doors, Aaron could luxuriate in the feeling of kissing Robert, the way his lips moved against Aaron’s familiar, the only difference the scratch of facial hair against his own. It was funny, really – Robert had always complained, when Aaron would scratch his beard against the sensitive skin of Robert’s face, between his thighs, but the complaints had rarely been sincere, given the way Robert had easily, always, spread his legs for Aaron, beard or otherwise – but it was odd, to kiss Robert, and feel the scratch of his white-blonde beard against his own.
Aaron let himself be led upstairs to Robert’s room, the route familiar, a throwback to those tentative early days of their relationship, the first time they’d tried for real.
Aaron didn’t want to think about that, pulling at the soft cotton of Robert’s t-shirt, baring Robert’s body to his own for the first time since Robert had come back. Robert’s body was different, now – still lean, Robert never the type to pack on much weight, or muscle, but it felt stronger, underneath Aaron’s hands, his shoulders broader, but the soft swell of his stomach the same as it had always been, flexing and clenching under Aaron’s hands as they kissed, Robert giving as good as he got.
There were scars on Robert’s body that Aaron didn’t recognise, raised, silvery scars that caught on his calloused fingertips as he held Robert close, reminders that this was a version of Robert he didn’t entirely know, but Aaron couldn’t help but forget that, as Robert easily went to his knees, a gentle push from Aaron all it took to have him blinking up at Aaron, careful, confident hands reaching for the zipper of Aaron’s work trousers.
Aaron had always felt powerful, in moments like this – Robert Sugden on his knees for him, trusting and pliant, a version of Robert only Aaron got to see. Aaron pushed his thumb against Robert’s bottom lip, his ex-husband’s mouth opening easily, obediently, Robert’s hands stilling on Aaron’s hips.
“I’ve missed you,” Aaron couldn’t help but murmur, Robert’s eyes fluttering shut at his words, his expression disbelieving, as though he couldn’t believe Aaron had missed him too. That wouldn’t do. “Don’t you believe me?”
Robert turned his head, slightly, the cool metal of Aaron’s wedding ring pressing against his cheek. “Hard to believe, given this.”
“We’ve been here before – you said you missed me, when it was Chrissie’s wedding ring you were wearing,” Aaron didn’t intend to be cruel, the statement factual more than it was biting, the truth of how their relationship began something he’d long since accepted. He’d felt Robert’s wedding ring made indents in his hip more often than he’d care to admit, Aaron helpless to do anything except accept the scraps Robert had given him, back then.
Robert was quiet, for a second, before he spoke, turning to look at Aaron properly, again, the muscle of his shoulders flexing as he moved. “It took you long enough,” he hummed, deft hands undoing Aaron’s belt, the zipper of his trousers, Robert’s hands warm as they tugged at Aaron’s underwear.
“Yeah, well,” Aaron couldn’t help but let his head bang back against Robert’s closed bedroom door as Robert took Aaron’s cock into his mouth, his ex-husband always looking sinfully attractive like this, eyes wide and his mouth stretched around Aaron’s girth. “Didn’t think you deserved to be rewarded for crashing my wedding.”
Robert raised an eyebrow, the question unspoken.
“Maybe you still don’t deserve a reward,” Aaron carded his fingers through Robert’s hair, the blonde strands soft underneath his palm. “Maybe I just want to be selfish and have you anyway.”
Robert’s lips were red, and shiny, as he pulled off, a cocksure grin on his face. “Be as selfish as you want,” he hummed. “I’ve missed you, Aaron. I’ve missed this.”
Aaron tugged at Robert’s hair, enjoying the way Robert still melted into the touch, Robert always a fan of that slight edge of pain, happy for Aaron to treat him a little roughly. He returned Robert’s grin, an expression he’d learned from the man himself, arrogant and cocky. “Prove to me how much you’ve missed me, then.”