Slippery Creatures

by KJ Charles

  It was mostly the sounds, though, because it turned out that Kim whimpered when you took him, desperate breathy noises that sounded as if he couldn’t help but make them. Will never wanted to forget those. It was a sweaty, earthy business, all damp skin, hard movements, harsh breath, but those little helpless gasps were so soft, so needy and vulnerable that Will found himself pushing harder to wring more of them out. He held his own climax off by sheer willpower, biting his lip hard enough to bruise, and telling Kim straight out he wanted him to come first, please, do it now with Will inside him. He wanted to feel it. And Kim had, convulsing under Will, thrusting into his hand, and tipping him over into the second hardest orgasm of the night, and also his life.

  He stayed awake just long enough to have a wash, fell back into the bed, and was asleep before he could say good night.

  AND THEN IT WAS MONDAY morning and the world started once more.

  Kim was already awake and dressed, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, when Will made his somewhat bleary and cautious way out of the bedroom in a borrowed bathrobe. He looked up with a smile that was a bit too polite for the circumstances. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

  “Is that tea?”

  Kim was already pouring him a cup—an actual cup, china, with saucer. Naturally he wouldn’t have anything as plebeian as a mug. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks. What time is it?”

  “Half past nine.”

  “It’s what?”

  “I let you sleep,” Kim said. “I thought you needed it.”

  “Don’t you need to go to work?”

  “No. And I assumed your employer would be understanding.”

  Will rubbed at his hair, which felt vaguely sticky, unless that was his hand. “I expect he’ll sack me for not turning up.”

  “I never liked him. Breakfast?”

  “I should get dressed first.”

  “Not on my account. It’s already cooked. Chafing dishes are all very well, but I find bacon can become leathery if one leaves it too long.”

  “Did you say bacon?”

  They ate in the kitchen, a small space that didn’t seem as though it got much use. The heated silver dish held bacon, sausages, and grilled tomatoes for two, evidently not cooked in here. Kim provided hot toast with competence.

  “So you just order breakfast?” Will asked. “And people bring it up?”

  “Well, not usually. I generally have toast.” He had taken just two strips of bacon from the plentiful selection. Will went for the fourth sausage without compunction. “But that’s how it works, yes. It’s a serviced flat.”

  “That’s right, you said. More convenient than servants. I mean, that’s fair. I don’t have ’em in the house myself.”

  It was a joke, mostly. Kim didn’t smile. “I grew up with servants. I was born in a stately home. We had a staff of forty or so. Fewer now, I believe.”

  Will waited to find out where that was going. Apparently it was nowhere, because Kim didn’t add anything. “You believe? Don’t you keep count?”

  “I’m sure somebody does, but I haven’t been welcome in my father’s house for six years.”

  “Right.” Will had no idea how to cope with a statement like that. He took a mouthful of tea. “That... That’s pretty horrible.”

  “I brought it on myself.”

  “Come off it.”

  “Oh, I did,” Kim said. “Ask Phoebe.”

  “She said you’d be your own worst enemy if you didn’t make sure other people did that for you.”

  Kim smiled properly then, a sudden grin that illuminated his face like dawn. It was—no, it was good that mention of Phoebe could make him smile like that. Definitely good. “Did she? Of course she did, the wench.”

  Will had a sudden, violent urge to push. “She told me this was all right with her. You and me.”

  “Yes. I’m a little surprised by that, even for Phoebe. Not surprised that she feels it, but that she sought you out to tell you so.”

  “I said, why didn’t you tell me yourself, and she said to ask you.”

  “Which you haven’t done.” Kim stood, clearing away his plate. He’d left half the bacon untouched. “Wisely. Nothing’s going to change, Will, no matter how much anyone might wish it would. When you walk out of my front door, you’ll still be in possession of information affecting national security, and I’ll still be the shit who lied to you and deceived you and betrayed you in an effort to get it. I can’t change sides now.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “You don’t ask much.” He leaned on the kitchen counter, his back to Will. “If you don’t hand over the information, nobody’s going to help you.”

  “I burned it. I told Libra that, and you can tell the War Office.”

  “I’m sure everyone will take your word for it,” Kim said politely.

  Will pushed his plate away. “When I go home, will I find my shop’s been searched?”

  He didn’t know if that shot went home. Kim’s voice sounded quite normal as he replied, “Possibly, but it won’t be my doing. I haven’t lied to you in, oh, a good twelve hours.”

  “Amazing. Did it hurt much?”

  Kim turned then. “You came here, remember? Not my idea. It was a good idea as far as it went, but it was all yours.”

  That was true enough. “So now what? How does this work? I leave and you report in to Ingoldsby on how we spent the night?”

  “Don’t be a shit,” Kim said, and the worst part of that was he sounded entirely resigned, as though he expected Will to be a shit. “I’m not that bad, and you’re not that stupid.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Christ, don’t apologise. You have every right to expect the worst and I dare say you should. Just not in this case.”

  “Then what now?” Will said again. “I leave here, go back to the shop, we forget this ever happened?”

  “What else is there?”

  He sounded almost like he was expecting an answer, or hoping for one. Will didn’t have anything to offer. Kim’s life had collided with his for the worst possible reasons. There was no point where they fit together except behind a closed door, and what could he say about that? I could come round to fuck now and again, when you aren’t working for the Government or taking your fiancée to parties. No.

  Kim shrugged, as if Will’s silence had been agreement. “Quite. After all, you’ve got more important things on your plate.”

  “And you’ve got Phoebe.”

  “Don’t remind me. And for God’s sake don’t tell her you’ve been round or I will never hear the last of it.”

  “What? I thought—”

  “She won’t be angry, you fool, she’ll be optimistic.” He said that with despairing resignation. “Phoebe is ever hopeful that I will meet a nice man. Don’t ask me what I’m supposed to do with one.”

  “You two really are strange,” Will said. “Why in God’s name are you getting married?”

  “Because her life is not the sunny bubbling stream of joy she makes it appear, and I can at least be of some use this way,” Kim said with a bite in his voice. “Mariage blanc is convenient for both parties, and hardly unusual.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Unconsummated. Marriage for the look of the thing.”

  “I was taught it was a sacrament,” Will said. “Vows. Something to take seriously, not to play with. And never mind you finding a nice man, how about giving her the chance to? What’s she going to do if she falls in love with someone and she’s married to you already?”

  “Are you under the impression we haven’t thought about the consequences?” Kim enquired icily. “It really is not, with the greatest respect, your business.”

  That was pretty final. “I dare say not. Well.” Will stood. “I’ll get dressed and go.”

  “Yes.”

  Will headed out through the sitting room where Kim had sucked him off with such abandoned pleasure last night. He wished he’d got dressed b
efore: he needed to be gone from here. From Kim.

  He was in the bedroom and starting to remove the borrowed gown when Kim spoke from the doorway. “Will.”

  Will pulled the sides of the gown together before he turned. “What?”

  “I apologise for that. I intended to handle this morning a lot more graciously, but—well, I failed. I realise we can’t stay on good terms but I’d like to part on them. May I try again?”

  Will nodded. Kim offered him a smile that seemed real, if tentative. “What I wanted to say, should have said, was that it was a good night. More than good, it was a privilege. Thank you for being so generous with your pleasure. And thank you for trusting me enough to come here at all: I doubt I’d have done so in your shoes.”

  “It was good for me as well,” Will said, wholly inadequately. He wished he could find words a fraction as eloquent as Kim’s. He wished he knew what he’d say if he had them. “Thanks for breakfast. And I’m not going to hope you find a nice man when you have a perfectly lovely woman, but the next arsehole who insults you for enjoying yourself when you fuck, bring him round to my place and I’ll teach him some manners.”

  Kim winced. “That obvious?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “I will bear that offer in mind. Actually, I’ll take you up on it. Thank you.”

  He sounded sincere. He looked smart and well groomed and rich, and his eyes were as raw and lonely and full of wishes as Will felt.

  Fuck it. “You don’t have to go to work?”

  “No.”

  “Front door’s still locked.”

  “Yes...”

  “Suggestion five, then?” Will said. “Since we’re here.”

  They crashed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, kissing frantically. At least Will didn’t have to shed anything but the dressing gown this time. He didn’t undress Kim, just got his trousers open, and worked him with his hand till his prick was leaking and he was gasping.

  “Will. Going to—”

  “Not yet.” Will let go. Kim made a strangled noise that sounded like actual pain, and added several surprisingly vulgar words.

  “You did worse to me last night,” Will pointed out.

  “I did not. Is this vengeance?”

  “I want—I really want you to come while I fuck your mouth,” Will said. “Can we do that?”

  “It might be difficult not to.” Kim spoke with feeling. “I... Christ. You want that?”

  Will had a fair idea of what he needed to hear. He put a bit of gravel in his voice. “I want to hear the sounds you make while I’m doing it. I want you to know how hard it makes me, knowing you love it. I want us both to remember that.”

  Kim’s mouth opened silently. Will dipped his head and dragged his tongue over Kim’s lips. “That’s right. Open wide.”

  Kim did as bid. He didn’t make a sound as Will straddled his chest, but as Will leaned over, he said, “Hold my wrists.”

  His arms were above his head. Helpless came into Will’s mind again. “You can’t touch yourself if I’m holding your wrists.”

  “Please.” Just the one word.

  Will nodded, then another thought came. “Hang on. If it’s too much or I’m hurting you, how will I know?”

  “I’ll bite.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll shake my head, you idiot.”

  Will put his work-hard hands over the slim wrists, pressing down. Kim inhaled, a quick little noise that went straight to Will’s groin. He positioned himself over Kim’s open mouth with a second’s uncertainty, and eased himself down. Kim’s lips closed around his length, and Will thrust, first gently, then a little harder.

  Kim moaned. It could have sounded like distress but there was nothing of alarm in his dark eyes, fixed on Will. Will thrust again, and again, gaining confidence, putting his weight forward so he was pressing Kim into the bed with his arms. Kim was moving under him, twisting with frustrated arousal, and the way his mouth looked around Will’s cock was almost unbearably wrong and filthy and perfect.

  “Jesus,” he said aloud. “I know you want this. I love how you want this. More?” Kim made a desperate noise. Will was slightly fearful of choking him, but he leaned in, going a little deeper, rubbing against the roof of Kim’s mouth. And Kim’s whole body was pushing up under him, thrumming with tension, and the sounds he was making were too much, wet and explosive and desperate.

  Kim tugged frantically sideways with his left hand. Will let go, bowed his head, and thrust deep into Kim’s throat, feeling his lover’s arm move as he worked himself. Kim cried out, the sound vibrating in Will’s length, and they were both coming at once, thrashing against one another, Kim’s spend spattering Will’s bare back, Will gripping the wrist he held savagely as he came with ball-aching force that left him dizzy.

  He lurched sideways and rolled over to thump down onto the bed. Kim lay beside him, breathing harshly.

  “All right?” he said after a while.

  Kim coughed, sounding a bit phlegmy, and cleared his throat. “Very much so.”

  Will gave it a moment, until he was fairly sure he wouldn’t pass out if he sat up too fast, then a few minutes more because he was in no hurry. He really didn’t want to go, to return to the bloody bookshop and the mess of his life. He liked in here with the version of Kim who wanted to make sure he got enough sleep, and told him the truth, and made him feel like a god when they fucked.

  But there was no choice, so he rolled onto his side. “This isn’t a bad place to leave things, so I’m going to go now. Thanks for having me. And vice versa, I suppose.” Kim’s lips curved, almost reluctantly. “So—well. See you.”

  He got dressed in silence, aware of Kim watching him, as debauched as a man could look while mostly clothed on a rumpled bed. Neither of them spoke; there wasn’t anything useful to say. He found his shoes, hat, coat. As he headed for the door, he glanced around. Kim was standing at the other end of the room, watching him.

  “Bye,” he said.

  Kim opened his mouth and hesitated. Expressions flickered across his face, too fast to read, then he gave Will a little smile. “Goodbye.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The bookshop had indeed been raided in his absence. That was irritating. The bolted door had been jemmied, splintering the wood and destroying the lock, and Will was pretty sure he’d need to replace the frame as well.

  Whoever had done it hadn’t bothered with subtlety. All the papers he’d spent hours sorting lay in drifts over the floorboards; books had been carelessly tossed into splayed and crumpled heaps. His desk drawers were all open and, Will quickly saw, the petty cash had gone.

  The War Office wouldn’t have taken the petty cash, he thought, so he probably believed that Kim hadn’t tipped them off. Unless someone else had taken advantage of the open door, of course. He wanted to believe Kim, and wished he didn’t have to think about it.

  There was no post on the mat either. He wondered if that was a sneak thief hoping for postal orders—good luck with that—or Zodiac keeping an eye on his letters for something that wasn’t books or bills.

  Will spent the rest of the morning cleaning up. It was dirty, backbreaking work and he resented it, but there wasn’t a lot of choice. If he couldn’t sell books, he would struggle to make it to whatever distant date the lawyers got on and declared probate. It was quite hard to keep that thought in his mind simultaneously with The people who did this might come after me any day now. That had been another thing that was easier in the war. You took it a day at a time and you never thought about the future at all because of the odds that would be a waste of energy. It made life a lot simpler.

  He nailed the front door shut, and went out over the back walls to find a locksmith, who promised to come over the next day. He found the Messer under the bed, and kept it in his belt while he worked that afternoon.

  Late on, there was a tapping on the window. He glanced up, and saw Phoebe, exceedingly lovely in a close-fitting cloche hat, golden hair curling from
under the brim. She smiled as she caught his eye, and pointed at the door with an exaggerated expression of puzzlement.

  God damn it. He’d told Kim to tell her to stay away. He didn’t want to lie to her now; he didn’t want any more to do with Kim Secretan and his honourable fiancée and whatever peculiar dance they were treading out. He had work to do.

  But she was there. “Two minutes,” he mimed through the glass. He rinsed his dusty hands and face, took the knife from his belt, threw on his jacket, still adorned with the silk peony, and went out to scale the back wall yet again.

  Phoebe was waiting in the street when he jogged up. “Hello, there. Is your door broken?”

  “And nailed shut. Burglars. I had to come round the back.”

  “You’ve been burgled? Will, I am so sorry. How awful.”

  “Yes. Phoebe, I don’t think you should come to see me any more.”

  Her eyes widened with hurt. Clearly Kim hadn’t had a conversation with her yet. “But I thought—”

  “It’s not you,” Will said, keeping his voice low. “Or anything else we talked about. It’s—look, there’s some very unpleasant people with a grudge against me right now. I don’t want you getting hurt by accident and that means you can’t be round here. It’s for your safety.”

  “Is this Kim’s affair?” Will wanted to lie. He hesitated, and was lost. “It is, isn’t it? For heaven’s sake. He must sort it out right away. This isn’t remotely acceptable.”

  “It’s not that easy.” He wished he could just be rude: tell her to go to the devil, send her off crying. She’d be safe that way, and wouldn’t come back, and would doubtless fall into Kim’s arms for comfort which would be better for everyone. “Phoebe, you said we were friends.”