With Everything I Have (4 page)

Sebastian came back around to stare at what
parts of Peter he could see. “Peter , you know as well as I do that
you have feelings.” He had to struggle to keep his voice low.

“Those are different.” Peter scooted out from
beneath the undercarriage but didn’t move to get to his feet. On
his back he looked up, his clear gaze wide and disarming. There was
colour across his cheekbones, not as rousing a red as the autowagon
above him but still flushed, still lovely.

“How so?” Sebastian heard himself asking
while his eyes travelled over Peter’s open collar and rolled up
sleeves. Peter had traces of perspiration at his throat, grease at
his wrists and on his fingertips. His grip was tight on the
undercarriage of the autowagon as he stared up. “You mean physical
passions.” Sebastian realized softly, not asking. Peter looked
almost as he had the other night, half-naked and held down. He
swallowed at Sebastian’s scrutiny and Sebastian licked his lips
before turning away. He heard Peter stand up and brush himself off.
“Passions?” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Do you think those are
separate from everything else that couples feel?” It was a morning
to be especially irked by Peter’s refusal to see the obvious. It
was no different from any other morning yet somehow it was. Perhaps
it was his silly hope the other night that Peter had been worried
about Prudence Dawson. Sebastian didn’t know what had changed to
make Peter bring up the subject of love, but he didn’t much care
for having his lost hopes taken apart like a faulty autowagon. He
snapped. “Physical passions are nice on their own, Peter, but they
are very different when emotion is involved. When love is involved,
they are better.”

He turned back with his fists at his sides,
prepared for an argument.

Peter kept his gaze to the side. “You are the
expert. I cede to your experience,” he murmured, and took his time
wiping his hands on a dirty rag.

Sebastian honestly had no idea what to say to
that. He let out a puff of air then looked at the red auto in front
of him. It was like fire. Like a sunset, or a red-hot iron rod. It
was breathtaking and terrifying in its beauty. Sebastian studied
its shiny curves and nearly considered it art.

“You had something to show me,” he reminded
Peter after a few minutes.

Peter came over to stand next to him. “What
do you think of the colour?” He was suddenly all motion, jerky
twitches of his hands, a soft bounce on the balls of his feet.
Sebastian had an urge to pet him and make him be still. He could do
it, that was the damnable thing. Peter would let him. All he would
lose was Peter for the next few days or weeks.

“You woke me up to ask about a shade of red?”
Sebastian wondered aloud without remarking on Peter’s strange
energy. He quirked a small smile for Peter to see. It didn’t relax
Peter any. He was waiting for Sebastian’s true opinion. “Other
people would have just asked me to breakfast if they wanted to see
me,” Sebastian couldn’t help teasing, enjoying the moment. Peter
was so anxious it could have been Christmas morning. If Sebastian
kept it up Peter might start tugging on Sebastian’s coat and
pleading for his honest opinion of his work.

“I did ask you to breakfast.” Peter did not
seem to get the joke.

Sebastian glanced at him then back at the
auto. “It’s… very bright,” he gave in, feigning disapproval as if
he wasn’t smiling for Peter to see. Peter looked pointedly down at
Sebastian’s ensemble, his black morning coat with the poppy red
lining, the black and crimson embroidered waistcoat.

“’If they are going to stare, then let them
stare’,” Peter quoted a very stupid thing a very young Sebastian
had once said regarding the people who hadn’t hidden their
discomfort at having a quadroon at their garden parties. Sebastian
had never wanted attention but had always received it. He’d learned
to accept it, deflect it when necessary, even enjoy it at times,
but retiring some place quiet and secluded at the end of the day
was his usual goal.

But they weren’t talking about Sebastian.
They were talking about Peter. Sebastian tried again, lessening his
smile. “It’s a beautiful machine, Peter. With more of an eye toward
aesthetics than your usual designs which aim for speed.” It wasn’t
like Peter at all, although Sebastian was certain the auto could go
very fast. Peter avoided looking at him. Sebastian offered him a
small frown of confusion. “But you will attract attention. You will
attract all eyes in fact.” Peter hated, or feared, attention,
Sebastian had never been able to determine which.

“It’s not for me.” Peter’s tone said clearly
that he thought Sebastian was being slow on purpose.

Sebastian shot him another frown. The man was
maddening. A few words from Peter and Sebastian’s heart was racing.
He was furious and aroused and touched. Only Peter could make
Sebastian feel all these things at once.

“Another one for me?” Sebastian tried to stay
light. “I already seem like an extravagant dandy to most.” It was
no good, the autowagon was exquisite and Peter was staring
hopefully at him. Sebastian sighed, not nearly as put out as he
wished he was. “It’s perfect, Peter, as you already know.”

He didn’t think Peter was aware of how his
expression lit up at the compliment. If it wouldn’t have scared him
away, Sebastian would have drawn him forward for a kiss, a small
reward of a kiss across his mouth. Peter, with his practical mind,
who channeled what passion he allowed himself to feel into gears
and engines, had thought of Sebastian and created this. He deserved
a kiss for it. He deserved more than that.

Sebastian bit his tongue to hold his words
back. He had to tread carefully lest he spoil this remarkable
peace. He turned to the autowagon and allowed to tone to become
sly. “But I will like it better if you do all the driving in
it.”

Peter stepped in closer to him, a smile
blooming across his face at the implied invitation to go driving.
Sebastian’s breath caught but the moment was already over. Peter
stopped and lowered his gaze to somewhere about level with
Sebastian’s cravat. His smile disappeared, replaced with a tense
frown. Then he moved away.

“I did interrupt your morning plans. I will
let you get back to them.” Peter bent over his creation until his
face was out of sight. He gave something inside the autowagon a
vicious tug and then swore under his breath. “With the fuel I’ve
been using sometimes there is a knocking sound. I think air is
getting in and I want something else. A new formula.”

Sebastian blinked and headed after him,
pausing to look at reflection in a shiny bit of chromium plating.
On one side of his jaw, nearly invisible, was a trace of beard
burn.

“Buggering fuck.” Sebastian borrowed one of
Peter’s favorite phrases. “Peter—”

“No, it’s my fault. I’m stupid. I should have
fixed this. I am sure the problem is obvious and anyone else would
have seen it by now.” Peter gripped the edge of the bonnet and
pushed his body away before slamming the lid down. The auto rocked
back and forth on its blocks. Sebastian jumped and Peter turned
toward him with a horrified expression. “Are you all right?”

Sebastian barely got a chance to nod before
Peter was chastising himself, his face ashen, his voice a
self-loathing whisper. “So damn worthless. I meant it to be a gift
and I ruined it.” Peter clenched and unclenched his hands then took
a long breath. The momentary outward sign of fury was already gone,
buried until Peter lost control again. Peter shivered. “I’m sorry,
Sebastian.” Peter said those words how he always said them, as if
he were apologising for everything possible about himself. This
time he could have meant anything from the bright red colour of the
auto, to his fit of temper and losing his composure, as if that was
why Sebastian was worried.

“I’m just like him, you know,” Peter offered.
“I don’t even know what I’m saying when my temper gets the better
of me.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. You should go. I have work.”
He spun about in a wild, aborted movement as if he wanted to get
back to work and couldn’t remember what he’d been doing. He looked
quickly away from Sebastian’s eyes. “How many times do you have
witness this before you understand?” His mouth twisted, the only
warning that his composure was more fragile than it seemed, and
then Peter grabbed a tool from a chair and hurled it to the wall.
The crash as it bounced and hit the floor was louder than the
initial contact with the wall but Peter flinched and shut his
eyes.

Eyes closed, so Sebastian wouldn’t see what
he was feeling.

Sebastian was very quiet. “Look at me, Peter.
Tell me.”

Peter tightened his jaw. “You don’t
understand. When I feel, I want… I want to—”

“You aren’t him.” Sebastian strode forward
and broke the rules by putting his hands to Peter’s face and making
Peter look at him. Peter was scowling so Sebastian scowled too.
“You aren’t your father and you aren’t worthless, no matter what he
told you.”

Peter tried to shake his head and couldn’t.
His eyes seemed larger, pleading, but he didn’t look away. A few
moments later he gave a little nod. It was hard to say if he
believed what Sebastian had told him, if he had ever believed it,
but Sebastian released him and stepped back.

Peter turned to the side to compose himself,
just as he did after Sebastian had pleasured him. It had taken
Sebastian far too long to realize that Peter didn’t like Sebastian
to see him uncontrolled any more than he liked for Sebastian to see
him regain his control. For better or for worse, Sebastian’s
opinion mattered that much to him. Peter did not wish Sebastian to
see the demons that he held inside or to think him weak.

It made Sebastian wonder for the thousandth
time how often Peter’s father had frightened or beaten his son to
the point of screaming or tears and then ordered Peter to be
silent.

“If you think I am disgusted by your released
emotions, you are very, very wrong.” Perhaps it was the early hour
but Sebastian did not feel like letting the issue go. Just once he
wanted his words to stick. Just once in this world the good things
people said should carry more weight in the human mind than all the
bad. Peter was afraid of becoming his father when his emotions
surged but he was nothing like the man. “Peter.” Sebastian didn’t
care if they heard him in the house, if Smythe took away his key;
Peter was going to hear this in a way he could not ignore. “You are
a clever, curious, generous man who would do anything for the
people he admires and cares about.”

Peter made a noise in his throat like a
strangled protest. Sebastian kept going. “The only hurts you have
ever inflicted have been entirely unintentional. You are so much
better than your father. You are so much better than anyone else I
have ever met.” Sebastian cut himself off there, too suddenly,
aching at the bared need in Peter’s expression.

Everyone should hear their own graces from
time to time. Everyone usually did, even black sodomites with a
love of bright waistcoats who insisted on making appearances at the
very best parties. Peter simply needed it more than most. Sebastian
should have told Peter these things every day, to hell with his
exposed heart. He should have said this before, made it clear.

Sebastian let out an irritated sound and
stalked back to the door and the telephone on the stand nearby. He
asked Smythe to have breakfast ready and then returned to face
Peter.

“I keep telling you to go,” Peter whispered
without looking directly at him.

“I have nowhere else I’d rather be,”
Sebastian told him, still too raw to resist honesty.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, bringing his
eyes up at last. He seemed startled when Sebastian caught his
breath and smiled at him. The smile surprised Sebastian as
well.

“In all the years of this, Peter, not once,
not once ever in our history when you have lost your temper have
you ever hurled anything my way, or at anyone else for that matter.
Not once have I ever seen you even think of doing so.” Sebastian
let his smile slip away. “You are more of a danger to yourself than
you are to me. We all lose our tempers,” he took a breath, “or our
minds in bed. Do you think I have never lost mine?” It was as far
as he thought he could take the matter despite the growing
astonishment on Peter’s face. “Now, let’s eat, and then you can
take me for a drive in this showpiece. I haven’t been out of the
city in ages and I think you could use an afternoon to run wild.”
Peter
needed
to drive his roadsters the way he did,
especially in a mood like this one.

Peter was coming back to himself. His quick
frown said he’d caught that Sebastian was beginning to tease him
but he didn’t understand the joke.

“You are obviously a man of intense physical
passions,” Sebastian informed him helpfully then felt his head go
back in surprise when Peter nodded gravely in response.

“I know,” Peter told him, sounding as if he
truly did. He sighed as he walked to the door.

~~~

Sebastian held onto the top of the passenger
door with both hands and pressed both of his feet flat to the floor
in a vain effort to keep from being thrown back and forth by the
motions of the autowagon. If he wasn’t bruised and sore by the time
the ride was over he’d be very surprised. Not that he knew when the
ride would be over. Even with goggles on to protect his eyes, there
was something terrifying about looking around at a world flying
past him. What should have been an idyllic countryside was barely
more than a blur, leading him to decide some time back that man was
not meant to travel this fast. He felt the same about dirigibles.
They were amazing machines, lighter than air, but entirely too far
from the ground.

Peter would disagree. He was practically
singing he was so elated to be behind the wheel. His hands slid
over the wheel with confidence, his grip on the gearshift was sure.
Small hills were nothing to his auto any more than a sharp turn
was. Sebastian prayed that the roar of the engine warned any and
all people and livestock off the road, because he did not think
Peter’s speed would allow them to stop quickly.