Just a Little Danger

by Merry Farmer

  Everett whipped to face him again, his heart squeezing in his chest. Both sides of Patrick’s statement stung, and both left him miserable for their respective lots in life.

  He didn’t have a chance to answer the statement. A knock sounded at the door. Patrick leapt up to answer it, receiving a covered tray containing their supper from a member of the hotel staff. He set the tray on the table at the end of the sofa, then returned to lock the door.

  “Did you tip the man?” Everett asked, scooting to the edge of the sofa to look under the tray’s lid.

  “Did I what?” Patrick walked back to the sofa.

  “Tip the man.” Everett grinned, already knowing the answer. He shook his head. “You’ve a lot to learn about staying in hotels, love. I’ll make sure to leave a large gratuity before we check out.”

  Patrick flushed as he drew one of the room’s chairs to the side of the table. The feast that had been sent up for them was probably magnificent, but Everett’s appetite was nonexistent. He picked at the roast pheasant and potatoes. Patrick ate as though it were his duty, but Everett had the sense that he didn’t taste anything. He supposed there was no such thing as not having an appetite for someone who had come so close to starving as a child.

  That thought brought him full circle. All of his bottled-up fear and misery from seeing Chisolm that afternoon overflowed, spilling its contents through him.

  “It’s all about power,” he began in a barely audible voice, eyes downcast.

  Patrick stopped in the middle of chewing to stare at him.

  “It’s not about love—or even sex, and certainly not pleasure—at all,” he went on, feeling as though he were in danger of gagging at any moment. “I’m sure that someone, somewhere would rush to call Chisolm out for being a queer if they knew what happened all those years ago, but it wouldn’t be accurate. He didn’t love me. He didn’t even like me. He doesn’t like boys, girls, or anyone. He got off on the knowledge that he held complete sway over every aspect of my life and he could do with me as he pleased.”

  Patrick set his fork down and faced Everett squarely. “Tell me.”

  Everett dragged his eyes up to meet Patrick’s. The stony anger he saw there was strangely relaxing. “I’ve told you that my father sold me to Adler for the price of a few bottles of gin when I was eight years old.”

  Patrick nodded and swallowed.

  “Adler sold me to Chisolm for ten times that amount within a week.” Everett’s gaze lost its focus. “At first, I couldn’t believe my own luck. I was taken to the country, where I’d never been before. I was scrubbed, given a haircut, and dressed in fine silks. Everything around me was beautiful and clean. Chisolm discovered right away that I could sing and put me to work entertaining his guests. I was convinced the whole thing was a miracle.

  “Until I ended up in his bed.” He fought down a wave of nausea at the memories. His whole body began to shake. “I will spare you the details of all the ways a grown man can use a small boy. If you aren’t aware of what they are, then I would rather die than put those things in your mind. But rest assured, Chisolm left no depraved stone unturned. He made no secret of his desire to break me. Young fool that I was, I believed that if I went along with everything he demanded, he would consider me broken and stop.”

  Everett paused, hearing the screams of his younger self, the way he’d begged for mercy.

  “He never did stop. Far from it. And he insisted on sharing his toy with guests to his estate.” Everett raised his eyes to Patrick with a shaky grin. “But he continued to dress me in silks and to order me to sing for his guests. And then to perform in various bacchanals and plays as I grew older. He threatened to turn me into a eunuch on several occasions as well. Thank God he didn’t.” He laughed ironically. “I think I proved too valuable to him as a virile youth, very much sought after by his political allies and those he wanted favors from, to damage the goods.”

  “I assume you got away from him eventually,” Patrick said after a long pause.

  “Did I?” Everett made a sour face. “Did it look to you like I’ve gotten away from him when the two of us stood face to face this afternoon?”

  Patrick glanced sympathetically at him.

  Everett shook his head. “I made several attempts to escape, starting when I was twelve. The punishments for each failed attempt were harsh. I still bear the scars.” He sucked in a sudden breath to steady himself. “I finally succeeded in getting away when I was fourteen, one of the few times Chisolm took me to London. Lucky for me, I’d befriended a rather well-known actor who enjoyed participating in Chisolm’s debauched weekends. It was rather like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, but at least I felt as though what I was doing was under my control instead of forced.”

  “But you were only fourteen,” Patrick said.

  “And as any bull-headed youth of fourteen will tell you, even the illusion of being in control of your own body and your own destiny feels like immeasurable freedom after being a slave for six years.”

  Patrick flushed, looking sick. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You weren’t responsible. You were likely mired in your own problems at the time.”

  Patrick nodded.

  Everett shrugged, feeling as though a slight weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Every rotten thing that happened to me after escaping from Chisolm felt like a gift from God. I threw myself into a life on the stage with so much enthusiasm that I’d made a name for myself within years. And honestly, the rest of the story from that point is anticlimactic. I made my own decisions. I commanded the stage. I took lovers when I wanted them to prove that no one would control me, body or soul, ever again.” He paused. “But that was all a lie. Chisolm always has and always will control me.”

  “He will not,” Patrick insisted, suddenly vehement.

  The show of anger on his behalf was so endearing that Everett laughed. “Yes, he will, love. He set out to break me all those years ago and he succeeded. You saw that much for yourself today.”

  “I refuse to accept it.” Patrick stood, shifting to scoot across the sofa to Everett’s side. “You are the master of your own destiny. That’s what attracted me to you. Whatever hold Chisolm continues to have over you is an illusion. You have to believe that.”

  “I have to believe it, do I?” Everett lit with amusement, pivoting to face Patrick. Their knees bumped. Even that cursory contact was a comfort to him. “Forgive me, darling, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?”

  Before Everett could reply, Patrick took his face in hand and swayed in for a kiss. It wasn’t the clumsy sort of kiss he would have expected from a man of almost no experience. It was passionate and heartfelt. Patrick’s mouth was hungry for his, and Everett instantly gave him everything he needed. He moaned deep in his throat and reached for him, teasing Patrick’s lips with his teeth before brushing their tongues together. In the space of a heartbeat, he went from cowering in fear at his own memories to longing to feel Patrick as a part of him in every way.

  As suddenly as their kiss began, Patrick stopped. “You see?” he panted, eyes alight with lust. “You tell me if Chisolm still has power over you when I can spin your head with just one kiss.”

  Everett wanted to laugh. Patrick was the sweetest, most desirable, most precious thing he’d ever had in his life. He was pure goodness in a world filled to the brim with evil. “How could you ever doubt that I want you to have and to keep or think I would grow tired of you, you silly man,” he said, launching himself into Patrick’s arms.

  Their mouths met again in a furious kiss that had both of them panting for breath in no time. Everett pushed Patrick flat to his back against the cushions scattered across the sofa. He drew wild groans of pleasure from Patrick as he ravaged his mouth with lips and tongue. His hands spread across Patrick’s unforgivably dull suit, undressing him as fast as he could while so overwrought with need. As soon as he unbuttoned Patrick’s jacket and
waistcoat and pushed them open, then undid the buttons at the top of his shirt, he dragged his lips and teeth down over Patrick’s neck, nipping, tasting, and sucking as he went. Without a lick of shame, he deliberately left a mark on Patrick’s shoulder, just below his collar, that would remind both of them that they belonged to each other.

  Patrick struggled to push Everett’s jacket off of his shoulders and to unbutton his waistcoat, but Everett didn’t leave him much room to maneuver. Their clothes were askew and their bodies already overheating when Everett propped himself above Patrick and said, “Let’s continue this in the bedroom.”

  Patrick nodded and rolled off the sofa, staggering to his feet, so quickly that Everett laughed. He stood as well, grabbing Patrick’s hand and leading him on to the pristine, hotel bedroom. As soon as the door was shut behind them, they rushed to throw off the rest of their clothes and shoes, stealing kisses and touches as they went.

  Everett finished with his clothes first and moved to pull back the bedcovers on the room’s large bed. He was taken utterly by surprise when Patrick came up behind him, embracing him tightly and kissing his shoulder. Better still, his thick, hard cock fit snugly into the cleft of his arse, sending a jolt of lust through him that had him as stiff and erect as a monument. With a burst of utter frustration, he realized he hadn’t brought anything with him that would ease that sort of congress.

  “You have the most magnificent body I’ve ever seen,” Patrick murmured in his ear, apparently unfussed when Everett didn’t immediately bend over and beg to be fucked. “I could spend a lifetime learning it.”

  The sweetness of the statement was a thousand times more alluring than any quick and deep thrust. He inclined his head toward Patrick’s, nuzzling against him, then took hold of one of Patrick’s hands. “Please do, darling,” he whispered, sliding Patrick’s hand down his abdomen to grasp his prick.

  Patrick sucked in a breath as Everett guided his movements. The man was a fast learner, and within seconds, he was stroking Everett in a way that had his knees ready to buckle with pleasure. He intended to compliment Patrick on his dexterity, but all that came out was a shattering moan of pleasure. At the same time, Patrick jerked against him, pleasuring himself against Everett’s arse.

  Neither of them could keep up the coordination needed to carry on that way. Everett rolled out of Patrick’s reach, flopping onto his back on the bed and dragging Patrick with him. He sighed with pleasure as their bodies made contact in a thousand places. They ground their hips together in a way that sent shivers through Everett, even as he grasped Patrick’s face and held it as still as possible so he could kiss him. Their tongues did what their cocks couldn’t without preparation, but it was enough for him.

  “I’m yours,” Patrick growled, breaking away from Everett’s mouth and shifting to kneel between his legs. “And you are mine.”

  Similar words had been used to batter and threaten Everett years ago, but coming from Patrick’s lips, they left him feeling utterly transported with joy. Almost more so than the shattering jolt of pleasure as Patrick pushed his knees aside and bent to draw his cock into his mouth. Everett’s eyes flared wide for a moment as Patrick teased his head with his tongue and tested how much he could take. It didn’t matter that his attempt was clumsy and hesitant or that he didn’t seem brave enough to go more than an inch or so, it was the most erotic thing anyone had ever done to him. Everett threaded his hands in Patrick’s hair, tugging slightly and letting out a sound of appreciation.

  “I’ll get better, I swear,” Patrick said, panting, as he straightened a bit.

  “Love, you’re wonderful,” Everett said, or at least tried to say. Patrick closed his hand around his cock, working him with such a deft stroke that a powerful orgasm snuck up on him before he could finish his sentence.

  He felt that orgasm through his entire body as seed erupted from him. It shook him to his soul, spreading fire through his veins. If that wasn’t bliss enough, as the bone-deep contentment of pleasure radiated through him, turning his body to a useless but satisfied mass of jelly, Patrick straightened, planting his knees on either side of Everett’s hips, and took himself in hand.

  Everett’s heart raced at the erotic vision above him. The transported expression on Patrick’s face as he jerked into his hand, stroking himself at a punishing pace, was enough to ignite all sorts of sparks within him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sweat that glistened on Patrick’s chest, the power in his thighs, and above all, the absolute pleasure that pinched his face. Patrick wasn’t shy about vocalizing what he was feeling either, and by the time he let out a cry, spilling himself across Everett’s abdomen with an impassioned curse, Everett groaned right along with him.

  As Patrick collapsed to his side, Everett felt as though they’d shared the wildest forms of intimacy instead of something young boys merely experimenting would have laughed at. Everett didn’t care. He wiped his abdomen with the corner of the bedsheets, then curled into Patrick, entwining their bodies.

  “I love you,” Patrick panted as he nuzzled against Everett’s neck. His words were hazy and soft, as if spoken in a dream.

  “I love you too,” Everett said with a smile, though he was fairly certain Patrick was already asleep and couldn’t hear him. It didn’t matter. Patrick had proven the point he’d set out to make. For the first time since his fractured childhood, Everett wondered if Chisolm truly controlled him after all. In Patrick’s arms, he felt free.

  Chapter 16

  The bed beside him was empty when Patrick awoke the next morning. For a moment, he wondered where he was. Sunlight streamed in through a window to his left. The sheets encompassing him were crisp and cool and had the scent of lavender and musk on them. The bed itself was soft and comfortable, which was a sure sign he wasn’t at home. Only when he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes did the reality of his situation flood back in on him.

  He blinked up at the ceiling, letting a faint smile play across his lips for a moment. He couldn’t believe that those lips had been wrapped around Everett’s cock the night before. Never in a hundred years would he have considered himself brave enough to follow his urges like that. He was certain he’d made a mash of things, but it had felt good. The whole, carnal encounter had been natural and wonderful, as wonderful as sleeping soundly with Everett at his side. Everett hadn’t woken in a panic once during the night.

  Patrick’s cozy thoughts dampened. He knew all the reasons Everett had nightmares now. His whole body clenched with misery at the thought of the abuse young Everett had suffered. He wanted to push the vague ideas of everything Chisolm, and who knew how many others, had done out of his mind, never to consider them again. How Everett had gone through all of that and come out with even a shred of sanity was a mystery. It proved to him that Everett had reserves of strength that he had only begun to see.

  He stretched in an attempt to banish the pain and tension of thinking about Everett’s life, then pushed himself to sit. Every instinct within him wanted to find Everett and just be with him. But as he swung his legs to the side of the bed to get up, Everett marched through the door wearing an elaborate silk robe, a tray in his hands.

  “Don’t get up,” he said, alarm in his expression that was almost innocent in its eagerness to please. “Stay right where you are, love.”

  Patrick let out a confused breath and sat back against the pillows and the headboard. “What’s that?” He nodded to the tray Everett carried.

  With all the pride of a child presenting his elders with a particularly choice frog captured from a pond, Everett set his tray over Patrick’s legs and removed the silver dome covering its contents. “Voila!”

  Patrick sucked in a breath at the sight that met him, utterly overcome with emotion. So much so that tears stung his eyes. The tray in his lap contained a pile of eggs, several sausage links, slabs of ham, beans and mushrooms, toast with butter and jam, and tea. It was a feast the likes of which he had never seen, something he had barely dared to dre
am was possible. The rich, savory scent of it wafted over him, whispering of home, security, and love, things he’d never had.

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered everything the hotel serves,” Everett explained with a casual shrug, sitting on the bed beside him. “I know how important a good meal is to you, so I splurged.” He swiped a finger across the jam spread over the toast, then sucked his finger seductively.

  The teasing in Everett’s eyes turned quickly to distress, though.

  “Heavens, darling, why are you crying? It’s only jam.”

  Patrick shook his head, trying his best to be grateful and to appreciate the loving gesture, but he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing. He hid his face in his hands, shame and adoration and a sense of wild, unfathomable love filling every fiber of his being.

  “No, sweetheart, don’t cry, please.” Everett pulled Patrick’s hands away from his face, leaning in to rain light kisses across his lips and cheeks. “Whatever I’ve done wrong, I didn’t mean it, I swear.” He kissed Patrick several more times before the tray started to slip sideways, putting the cup of tea in danger of spilling. “Here, let me take this away,” he said, reaching for the tray.

  “No!” Patrick stopped him a little too loudly, closing his hand over Everett’s on the tray’s handle. He forced himself to look into Everett’s eyes, knowing the full force of his affection and his shame were on vibrant display. “My whole life, all through my childhood, I had to fight for every scrap of food I had. You’ve just laid a feast out for me like….” Words failed him. There was nothing like the beautiful gesture Everett had just made for him.

  Understanding dawned in Everett’s eyes. He smiled, gently at first, but within seconds, that smile turned into a typically wicked grin. “If I had known how easy it is to touch your heart, I would have brought you breakfast in bed much sooner.”

  He leaned in to plant a passionate kiss on Patrick’s lips, then inched back and plucked a piece of toast from the tray.