by Merry Farmer
The casual way Everett told the story sent a chill down Patrick’s spine, putting him off his fish and chips. He kept eating in spite of his sour stomach, though. There was no way to know when he would see another meal.
“Of course, I fell in love with the theater, as you might imagine,” Everett continued, staring dreamily off into space. “The costumes, the make-up, the magic of the whole thing. I knew I wanted to be a part of that world, and I had the good fortune—if you could call it that—of having a keeper who encouraged my interest.”
Again, Patrick’s stomach clenched at the implications behind Everett’s story.
Everett shrugged. “It would be a lie to say my whole life has been nothing but sin and misery. I was given an opportunity to excel in a profession most people are either abhorred by or forbidden from entering. And you know I love it.” He glanced sideways at Patrick, nudging him with his elbow.
“You’re a fine actor.” Patrick smiled. “I’ve seen you perform at least two dozen times.”
Everett’s brow shot up in surprise. “Have you?”
Patrick nodded, feeling unaccountably sheepish for the admission.
“Good Lord, Wrexham. You’ve been a follower all this time and I never knew it?” Everett’s eyes glittered at the idea.
Patrick merely shrugged.
“Why did you never wait for me at the stage door, then?” Everett stood straight, turning to face him. He tossed the remnants of his fish and chips over the makeshift fence and into the grass. That motion made Patrick feel even sicker than Everett’s stories. Wasting food was a cardinal sin.
He stared mournfully at the discarded food for a moment before dragging his eyes up to meet Everett’s. “I admire you,” he said, unsure how to explain the complexity of his feelings. “To stand at the stage door with dozens of others would have meant I was the same as them, just another admirer in a crowd whose names you didn’t know and whose faces you would forget.” He shielded the intensity of his longing for Everett by staring at his chips. “It would have killed my soul to have you think of me as just another follower.”
Everett’s brow lifted, but the heat in his eyes was more regret than surprise, as if he’d only just realized how expendable every admirer who had ever waited for him with baited breath had been to him. “I could never feel that indifferent to you,” he said in a soft voice.
“Couldn’t you?” Patrick met Everett’s eyes, then focused on his supper. The sudden urge to have both hands free so that he could reach for and caress Everett was overwhelming. Not that he would have dared to do something so bold, especially not in public.
Everett studied him, his brow furrowing and confusion taking the place of regret in his eyes. “Can you really not believe that you are fascinating and desirable?”
Patrick closed his hand around the top of the cone holding his fish and chips, crushing it to form a pouch. “Please don’t make fun of me,” he murmured, turning away so that he could stuff the remnants of his supper into the pocket of his jacket.
“I’m not making fun of you,” Everett laughed. When Patrick whipped to face him with a scowl, Everett’s expression grew dead serious. “I’m not making fun of you,” he repeated, fire in his eyes.
Every fiber of Patrick’s body vibrated with need, but it was too much to believe that a star that burned as bright as Everett Jewel could ever think of him as more than a toy to be used and discarded. Even if evidence to the contrary stood right in front of him, gazing at him with flashes of desperation in his beautiful eyes.
Patrick cleared his throat. “We’re here to search for Adler,” he said, straightening and tugging on the hem of his jacket. “We’d best get to it.”
He walked off before Everett could say anything else that might tease or tempt him.
Everett caught up, falling into step beside him. They walked the perimeter of the carnival in silence, pretending to scan the booths, games, rides, and tents for any sign of Adler when what they were really doing was looking in every direction possible, except at each other.
The tension remained high as they turned into a row of carnival games. The noise of bells and laughter, blocks falling, children laughing, and applause crowded around them diffusing the emotion between them. Patrick found himself paying more attention to the smiling men and women enjoying their time than the twisting passions in his gut. Even so, he could feel Everett watching him as though trying to work out his thoughts.
“You’re Everett Jewel, you are.” A young woman and two of her friends stepped into their path, startling Patrick out of his thoughts.
“Why, ladies, you’ve discovered me,” Everett greeted them with a flourish. “How very clever you are.”
In an instant, Everett was on stage again. The transformation was distinct. He stood taller, smiled more broadly, and winked at the girls. Immediately, half the people milling around them recognized the importance of the man they’d ignored just moments before.
“Sing us a song, please,” one of the girls said, clasping her hands to her chest. “I saw you in Adonis a few years back.”
“Did you, darling?” Everett’s teeth flashed along with his smile, unusually straight and white. It made Patrick self-conscious of his own crooked smile.
“You were divine,” the girl sighed.
“How very kind of you to say, love.” Everett took her hand, raising it to his lips. “For that, I’ll bow to pressure and regale you with song.”
He burst into a popular number by Arthur Sullivan that had been repurposed for the burlesque show, Adonis. Patrick grinned and stepped back, letting Everett shine. And shine he did. As he belted out the song in a loud, harmonious tenor, everyone within twenty yards dropped what they were doing to crowd around. The more of them flooded in, the farther back Patrick moved.
He didn’t know how Everett did it. Being the center of so much attention was Patrick’s idea of hell. But Everett lapped up the adoring glances and the fierce applause when his song was over, launching into another, much to the delight of the crowd. He was in his element, shining and virile. He exuded the sort of magnetism that had Patrick’s heart thumping against his ribs. He wasn’t the only one enthralled either, which put him at ease. No one could single him out for watching Everett with the hunger of a man who hadn’t had a solid meal in weeks when at least a dozen other men were staring at him the same way, whether they had the same inclinations that Patrick did or not.
He sent a curious glance across the growing crowd, wondering if it was so very wrong of him to want Everett the way he did when everyone else in the crowd wanted him just as much. Those thoughts were quickly eclipsed when he spotted a middle-aged man in a long coat hovering near the back of the crowd. Rather than watching Everett adoringly, the man narrowed his eyes and hunched his shoulders.
Patrick’s instincts flared to life, and he watched the man as though he would attack. He’d never seen Barnaby Adler before, but if someone had told him the suspicious man was him, he would have believed them. Even if he wasn’t, the stranger obviously had ill-intent. He might not have been anything special in any other area, but Patrick could pick out a criminal from fifty paces in every circumstance.
He started toward the suspicious man just as Everett finished his second song. The crowd applauded, begging for another.
“No, no, I couldn’t possibly,” Everett told them, looking as though he would break into another song at any moment. Instead, Patrick noticed out of the corner of his eye that Everett turned toward the spot where he had last stood. His face fell. “Where’s my copper?” he asked, seemingly making a joke, but with serious concern in his eyes.
Everett spotted Patrick in the thick of the crowd just as the suspicious man realized he’d been targeted. Whether it was Adler or not, the man flinched when he saw Patrick coming toward him. He thrust his hands in his pockets, turned his collar up, and disappeared into the crowd.
“Wrexham,” Everett said as he pushed his way through his admirers, heading toward Patrick. �
��How are you supposed to guard my body if you don’t stay near me?”
As tempted as Patrick was to wince, he recognized Everett’s statement for what it was. By claiming him as what amounted to an employee, he was making the most innocent and iron-clad excuse for the two of them to be wandering a carnival in Brighton together.
The ruse was so perfect that Patrick didn’t bother addressing it when Everett reached his side. “Is that Adler?” he asked, nodding to the retreating man.
Everett stood taller and squinted, then let out a breath. “I have no idea. Adler or not, whoever it is just got away.”
“We should follow him.”
Everett nodded, and the two of them marched after the man. Several of Everett’s followers attempted to come along, but when Everett failed to acknowledge them at all, they gave up the chase and resorted to lingering at a distance.
Whoever the man with the coat was, he had disappeared entirely by the time Patrick and Everett neared the carnival’s entrance.
“I think we’re done for the day,” Everett said what Patrick was thinking, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s getting late at any rate,” he went on.
It was as if Everett’s words were a cue for Patrick to realize how exhausted he was. Searching the carnival was tiring enough, but after two nearly sleepless nights and the journey to Brighton, he was ready to drop.
“If we leave, Adler could get away,” he reasoned aloud.
“If that was Adler, which we have no proof of, how would he know we are after him?” Everett reasoned. “We have a history, true, but he has no reason to think I’m here for any reason other than amusement. And it’s unlikely he knows who you are.”
“True.” Patrick glanced around the carnival again, as though Adler would leap out from behind the nearest tent and turn himself in.
“He’ll be here tomorrow.” Everett moved forward, grabbing Patrick’s elbow and escorting him on. “Besides, I’ve grown rather tired of crowds. It’s time we were alone.”
His words sent a shiver down Patrick’s spine. Nothing in Everett’s face suggested he’d meant the words to be flirtatious. That was almost as unnerving as if Everett had stroked a hand down his arm or wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
They left the carnival, heading back to the hotel through crowded streets. Everett made a few amusing observations about some of the people they passed or about the sea, but Patrick hardly heard them and only responded with a grunt here and there. He was too aware of what waited for them back at the hotel to make casual conversation. The more they walked, the broader Everett smiled and the closer he swayed to Patrick. The light in his eyes overtook any lingering signs of exhaustion, especially when he stole quick peeks at Patrick. If the two of them were secluded in a hotel room together for the night, there was no telling what might happen.
The worst of it was, Patrick wanted it to happen. The truth shocked him. It also terrified him. By the time they climbed the steps of the hotel porch and made their way up the staircase that took them to the top floor and their room, Patrick was trembling with pent-up desire and daunting fear. He knew what he wanted, and he knew he was afraid of it. What he didn’t know was whether he would be able to act on it or whether he would run.
“God,” Everett groaned once they were behind closed doors. He removed his hat and tossed it haphazardly toward one of the room’s chairs. It missed and fell to the floor, but Everett ignored it. He unbuttoned his jacket and threw that aside as well. “I love an audience,” he said, loosening his tie and turning to face Patrick, “but sometimes it’s all a bit much.”
He stopped when he noticed Patrick with his back pressed up against the door. Patrick hadn’t been aware of shrinking to the position, but he was frozen there now, watching Everett, his heart pounding as he waited to see what would happen.
Everett grinned at the sight of him and slowly pulled his tie off of his collar, dropping it dramatically. “Oh, dear,” he said, stalking closer. “It appears I somehow managed to corner you, Officer Wrexham.”
Patrick flattened his palms against the door, telling himself to breathe without managing to draw breath.
“Whatever shall I do with you now?” Everett sidled closer, closing the space between them with agonizing slowness. He moved like a cat on the prowl until he reached the door and planted his hands firmly over Patrick’s shoulders. “What an interesting predicament we find ourselves in,” he hummed, his body leaning into Patrick’s without quite touching him. He brought his lips to within a breath of Patrick’s. “You’ve told me twice before that you can’t,” he said. “But from where I’m standing, what you can’t do now is get away.”
Panic whipped through Patrick, but lust pulsed right along with it. He didn’t dare to move, lest his body come into intimate contact with Everett’s, and yet his cock was so hard it was painful. Everett’s scent filled him, sweetness and spice with just a hint of fish and chips. It was nonsensically erotic, and Patrick groaned as if Everett had slid a hand along his trousers to stroke him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, fully expecting Everett to take wicked advantage and kiss him senseless. Nothing happened, no matter how hard Patrick braced himself. Everett stood where he was, not quite touching him but effectively blocking him from moving. Lust and tension sizzled in the air to the point where Patrick was certain he would explode out of his skin.
As last, when the still frisson between them was too much for Patrick to bear, he opened his eyes.
Everett stared straight into his soul, unblinking. “Would you care to tell me how you can be gagging for a fuck so desperately that the heat of it puts the sun to shame while so doggedly denying what we both want?” he asked in a low whisper.
“I—” Patrick’s throat closed over the single syllable. Anything he said would be humiliating for both of them. But he couldn’t hold back anymore. Not after the day they’d spent together and not after the things Everett had laid bare about his past. “I’ve never done it before,” he blurted before he lost his nerve.
Everett blinked. “Not at all?”
Patrick shook his head tightly, the heat flooding him almost unbearable.
“Not even a little slap and tickle?” The corner of Everett’s mouth twitched, but it wasn’t amusement.
Again, Patrick shook his head.
“With anyone?” A note of incredulity crept into his voice. “Not even with a woman?”
“No,” Patrick croaked. “I haven’t even been kissed.”
Everett’s jaw dropped. He inched back, keeping his hands on the door behind Patrick, still preventing him from escaping. “You’ve never even been kissed?”
Patrick shook his head.
“Bloody hell, man.” Affection and disbelief and sadness jumbled together in Everett’s expression, as though he didn’t know which emotion to settle on. He continued to stare at Patrick, finally saying, “We’re taking care of that right now.”
Before Patrick could react, Everett surged into him, slanting his mouth over his. Patrick knew it was coming, but he gasped in shock and stiffened so hard every part of him ached as Everett caressed his mouth with his own. He nipped at Patrick’s lower lip and brushed his tongue along the seam before sliding his tongue against Patrick’s. The sensation was so overpoweringly good that Patrick moaned in response, digging his fingernails into the door behind him. Everett answered his moan with one of his own, pressing his body against Patrick’s. He used his lips and teeth and tongue to explore every inch of Patrick’s mouth, rendering him helpless.
It was so potent that the tell-tale signs of impending orgasm gathered in Patrick’s groin. That much pleasure alarmed him, and he gasped, pushing Everett away. As soon as he had enough space between them, he dashed to the side, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth.
“I don’t understand.” Everett spun to face him. His frustration was palpable. “You want this.”
“I know.” Patrick gasped for breath. “I know, but—” He didn’t know how to go on. His hands
trembled visibly. He didn’t know where to hold them or what to do with them.
“This cannot go on,” Everett said, oddly serious, walking slowly toward him. “God knows I would never, ever force anyone to do anything they don’t want to do, but you cannot continue to live like this. Especially when you want it so badly I’m afraid you’ll do yourself harm.”
Patrick’s eyes went wide. He would never hurt himself…but deep in his heart, he knew Everett was right. He couldn’t go on the way he had anymore.
Everett’s expression turned thoughtful, and he began to pace. The action seemed utterly at odds with the carnal energy in the room that made it hard to breathe. Patrick was helpless to do anything but watch him ponder the situation.
“You get yourself off, though, don’t you?” Everett asked suddenly as he turned in his pacing.
Patrick’s face went red hot. He nodded, beyond embarrassed by the admission.
It made no sense to him that Everett appeared relieved. “That’s what we’ll do, then.” He stopped his pacing to bend over and pull his shoes off. “Go on,” he said when Patrick just stood there. “Get your clothes off.”
Patrick’s jaw dropped as he watched Everett peel off his clothes. Everett’s bewilderment had turned to action, and the saucy glimmer was back in his eyes. Patrick’s thoughts scattered like dust in a storm as Everett straightened and pulled his shirt off over his head, then undid his trousers and stepped out of them and his drawers. His chest constricted at the sight of Everett’s naked body, his cock proud and erect. Every bit of him was beautiful, from his broad shoulders and surprisingly strong arms to his trim waist and shapely hips. But it was his perfect cock, the hair around it trimmed neatly, that had Patrick’s knees threatening to give out.
“Go on.” Everett nodded to him, eyes dancing with arousal and mischief. “Take it all off. Unless you’d like me to take it off for you.”