With Everything I Have (6 page)

Peter’s moan was quiet, like the almost
imperceptible press of his fingertips into Sebastian’s collar and
then their slow exploratory glide up and over Sebastian’s skin.
Sebastian held himself still, with Peter’s mouth beneath his as
Peter touched him. Peter found the shell of Sebastian’s ear, the
edge of his jaw. He gasped when he reached the line of his hair.
Sebastian had an urge to laugh but couldn’t find the breath for it.
Sebastian licked that red bottom lip instead and burned at the
quickening of Peter’s breathing. He did it again.

Peter grabbed Sebastian’s coat at the
shoulder and held tight. Sebastian was so dizzy he could have
reached out for anything solid to hold onto and still felt lost. He
nearly fell as he got to his knees to come in closer yet barely
noticed. The second he was within reach he nuzzled Peter’s throat
and pulled at Peter’s clothes until he found a discreet spot to
leave a bruise.

Peter groaned for the pressure of lips and
tongue. He let go of Sebastian’s coat and flailed his arm to the
ground, to the blanket, before sliding his hand back against
Sebastian’s neck and holding to that instead. He kicked his feet
apart and shuddered when Sebastian ducked in to mark him someplace
new. Peter brought his other hand up between them and left it
pressed to Sebastian’s chest, his fingers flexing anxiously.

“Go on.” Sebastian was scarcely whispering.
Any louder and he worried Peter would be scared into stopping. But
Peter did not seem frightened.

“What?” Peter demanded, clutching at him. “I
don’t know what to do next.”

“Touch me.” Sebastian didn’t adjust his tone
or make it nice. Peter’s hand closed around his waistcoat, his grip
strong. He yanked on it, his desires evident. Sebastian slid away
enough to settle over Peter’s body, Peter’s legs on either side of
him. They were once again eye to eye. Sebastian did not know what
he looked like. He imagined he was filthy with road dust,
disheveled, but Peter splayed a hand over his cheek and jaw and
rubbed his palm against his beard. He shivered, although he had
felt Sebastian’s beard in far more intimate places. His eyes were
nearly round as he watched his fingers play along Sebastian’s
mouth.

Then Peter released a long breath and closed
his eyes. He eased his legs open, not seeming to care that they
were both still dressed. They might as well have been boys again,
fully clothed as Sebastian ground against Peter under the covers of
their shared bed. Peter’s hand remained in Sebastian’s waistcoat,
his strength enough to pull Sebastian down against him until
Sebastian could feel the full length of Peter’s cock against his
hip and Peter could feel his. Sebastian choked, surprised, and
Peter threw his head back.

Sebastian kissed the skin displayed for him,
sucking a bruise over a small mole that had tormented him as a boy.
Peter cried out at the force of it and pressed both of his hands
into Sebastian’s shoulders. Holding Sebastian in place, Sebastian
realized. The sun and Peter had him burning up but Peter stroked
the back of his neck in absent, soothing gestures that made no
sense when Peter was the frightened one. Sebastian thrust against
him, cursing the layers of fabric, and gave Peter a nipping bite
for beginning this where he could not properly finish it. When that
made Peter cry out his name, Sebastian gave him another bruising
kiss over the same spot.

Peter gasped, electrified and aroused, and
clutched at Sebastian’s back, digging his fingers in to cause pain
and so much pleasure. He held onto Sebastian, so Sebastian forgave
him, urging Peter’s thighs farther apart and rocking against him.
He slid his way up for a kiss and moaned, distracted by Peter’s
eyelashes and how Peter looked at him after he kissed them.

“It is so much worse than I thought,” Peter
murmured, but parted his lips and exhaled. “Please kiss me, Bash.”
His fingers curled into Sebastian’s skin. He was not quite urging
Sebastian down but he wanted to. Eyes wide open, he wanted to.

Sebastian could not think. Peter was clinging
to him, his fingers searching and greedy. Their bodies were close
together, Peter’s hips hitching carefully up to drive him mad.
Peter could not know what he was doing but it was all the sweeter
for his innocence and eagerness. Sebastian groaned and kissed him,
need making him rough, but Peter showed no hesitation. He whispered
something nonsensical, something about birds and flight, and pulled
Sebastian to the ground with him.

~~~

The ride through the country afterward had
been at an almost sedate pace. Sebastian had considered offering to
pleasure Peter before every drive, but he knew better than to
interfere when Peter was trying to reclaim the appearance of calm.
It had been an eventful day and Peter was probably still reeling.
Sebastian thought they both were. Peter was quiet again, except for
the occasional hum and glance in Sebastian’s direction. Sebastian
himself was tired from his exertions yet buzzing in his skin
whenever he remembered Peter’s hands on him.

Peter had not only touched him. Peter had
clung to him and asked for what he wanted. That alone was
significant. If Peter had done that, facing possible rejection, he
had thought about it first. It meant something but Sebastian was
damned if he knew what it was.

They’d sat in comfortable, only slightly
strained silence, through a late lunch at a village pub, and driven
back into the city well after dark. Sebastian would have excused
himself but Smythe and then Bess herself had insisted he stay for
supper. Peter had disappeared to wash off the grime, and dried
spunk, from a day’s driving in an open auto, and after eating had
insisted that Sebastian do the same. Sebastian was more confused
than ever.

Sebastian had never before considered hope
terrible but now he felt eaten alive by it, warm and then cold,
bursting and then empty. He watched Peter distance himself from him
and circle back. He listened to Peter talk about anything but what
had occurred between them on the road and then invent reasons to
keep Sebastian from leaving. Peter’s state of discombobulation was
so great, he stayed in the room when Sebastian started to get
undressed only to freeze when Sebastian glanced at him as he pulled
his cravat free.

Peter’s head went up. He hadn’t bothered to
fully redress after his bath, and his simple white shirt was open
at his throat, exposing the marks from Sebastian’s mouth that he
did not seem to notice. The footmen at dinner most certainly had.
Sebastian had as well. He had a difficult time looking away from
them.

Sebastian began to unbutton his waistcoat,
noting the wrinkles from Peter’s desperate grip, and Peter frowned
and disappeared from the bath room into one of the other rooms in
his bedroom suite.

“Hot water helps with aches and pains,” Peter
commented helpfully from his ridiculous distance.

Sebastian stopped rubbing his backside and
finished removing his clothes. He slipped into the bath water
before responding. “Enormous, deep, comfortable cushions,” he
called out on a sigh as the hot water did indeed soothe away his
discomfort. He reached for the soap then stopped when Peter
reappeared in the doorway.

“Yes, cushions,” a harried, guilty Peter told
him, then looked him over before ducking out of the room. It wasn’t
as though he hadn’t seen Sebastian nude before, although if Peter
had been focused on his work Sebastian could have paraded past him
naked and Peter wouldn’t have noticed.

This, Sebastian recognized at last, was fear.
This was what Peter did before meeting someone new, talking himself
into and then out of the meeting at least a dozen times. Sebastian
had known Peter for so long he had assumed Peter did not do the
same for him. But he must, or at least, he did now, after what they
had done together on that blanket.

He took the soap and cleaned himself up
quickly then got out of the water. He dried off and reluctantly
donned his dusty clothes, leaving his hair the way the road and the
goggles had left it. He kept his waistcoat unbuttoned and didn’t
put on his coat or cravat, taking them with him into Peter’s
bedroom. Peter wasn’t there. That was likely no accident although
it was interesting. Peter had something he wished to say and he
didn’t want it to say it in the bedroom.

Sebastian left his coat on a chair with his
shoes and put his shoulders back before heading into the outer
rooms.

Peter was on a sofa with his notepad in his
lap. He was sketching or writing at a feverish pace but stopped the
instant he realized Sebastian was observing him. He clenched his
hand tight around his pencil then took a breath and put the pencil
down. “You have never done that before,” he burst out, picking up
his pencil again to toss it to the floor. He stared after it as if
wishing it were once again within reach.

Sebastian had a feeling his jaw was slack and
did his best to seem less affected than he was. A bit late,
considering that after they had both finished he had eased down to
murmur, “Beautiful, “ into Peter’s skin as he had always wanted to
do, and Peter had answered, “Bash,” just that, over and over until
he had recalled himself and grown silent.

“What?” Perhaps Sebastian could think of an
answer if Peter clarified his meaning.

Peter narrowed his eyes. He could have been
angry but it was hard to say with certainty. He might have been
embarrassed. “Did you… you have been with many, Sebastian. I know
that from how you know how to please me. But you have never done
that. Was it—?” Peter stopped himself.

Sebastian put a hand to his chest. “We often
did that when we were younger.” There had been moments, rare and
precious, where Peter had dared to touch him then. Only in the
beginning, and then Peter had left school and come home to his
father. They had not touched each other again in that fashion until
after the man’s death. Sebastian tried not to lower his voice but
it was no use. “We would find each other and pull the covers up
over our heads and not bother to undress. I’d kiss your mouth and
you would tremble and put your hands over my arms, at my hips
sometimes.” He could not seem to stop talking.

“Do you think I don’t remember those days? I
will never forget them.” Peter’s eyes went wide. Sebastian almost
didn’t hear the rest of his words over the rushing in his ears. “I
mean, that is not what I mean, Sebastian,” Peter hurried on. “I
meant you’ve never touched me again so soon after taking me.” He
spoke like someone who did not think they should have to speak, as
though his words were obvious. It was a wonder to hear him mention
their school days. Sebastian did not know what to make of it any
more than he knew how to take Peter’s tension now.

“Are you angry?” Sebastian considered him and
took a cautious step into the room. Peter tossed his head and lost
his ability to meet Sebastian’s eyes. “’Taking’ you?” Sebastian
pressed. “Have you been watching romantic picture reels? I almost
prefer it when you say bugger.” The jesting tone was almost habit
but it granted him a tiny moment of peace from the cold fear in his
chest.

Peter straightened, the very image of
discomfort. Sebastian was strangely unsympathetic. Peter had
brought this up; he could go where the conversation took them.
Sooner or later, whatever happened, he was going to have to accept
that Sebastian loved him.

There was a moment of silence. Then Sebastian
frowned and crept closer. There was colour in Peter’s face. His
ears were pink. “You have, haven’t you?” Sebastian realized out
loud in something like awe. First poetry and then romantic moving
pictures. Peter was researching love.

Sebastian thought he might faint, another new
experience. He sat on the other end of the sofa just before his
legs gave out. He took a deep breath. “Did you mind that I touched
you? Did you like touching me?”

“You know I did. You watched me finish and
then slipped your hand into my trousers to stroke me until I could
take it no longer. You took some of my spunk and put it in your
mouth.” Peter was reassuringly blunt about it but he had his steam
now. He was so agitated that the notepad slipped to the floor. His
puzzled frown seemed less like something for Sebastian to admire
fondly and more something for him to answer to. “Why did you? Why
did you do it this time?”

“Swallow?” Sebastian looked away at his own
evasion. “I like to sometimes.” He studied the cabinets, the
gaslights and the shadows they created. Then he sighed. “Even you
yield to baser passions once in a while,” he started, but Peter
interrupted him.

“That is not what I mean.” Peter kicked the
notepad away in a restless gesture.

Sebastian gauged him, wondering how much
Peter would take from him right now in this mood. “You mean why did
I touch you? You touched me first. I can only resist so much,
Peter. Any man would want you.”

“Now you’re lying.” Naturally, Peter did not
believe others would want him. “You lie a lot, Sebastian.”

Sebastian glanced over at him. “That’s it,
pistols at dawn.”

“I can bear the truth, Bash.” Peter scrubbed
at his cheeks.

Sebastian gave him an irritated frown. “Every
time you doubt how handsome you are, how kind, how wonderful, every
time you insist no one would want you, you insult me. I live in a
world where my taste and intelligence are questioned every single
day. It is something you have never done except for when you speak
that way. Think about that before you do it again.”

Peter sucked in a noisy breath and closed his
mouth. Sebastian waited a few moments then glanced to him
again.

Peter was breathing hard. “I did not mean to
hurt you.”

“How do you feel when someone insults me?
When you catch them in a sneer?” Sebastian did not feel cruel
though he supposed he was. His mother would have said he was cruel
to be kind.