You’ll just have to make more of an effort, Sir, to help me get some enjoyment out of it.
God, he wanted to so much – to give the young man pleasure, to hear him moan, to see him writhing in the sheets with lust. Once again he tried to salivate his dry throat. All night long he’d lain awake and filled his head with passionate thoughts, dreamed, without actually sleeping, of sex with Hyacinth. Now he was so ready to shove himself between his buttocks that his entire body was shaking. He turned quickly on his back and rumpled his hair while wheezing nervously to bring himself to his senses. He wanted him, he needed him, believed he’d die of desire for him.
Without another thought, Vrila reached out, caressed Hyacinths chest, his abdomen, his thigh before he dared touch his manhood. He perceived a prickling between his loins when his hand enveloped it and had to smile because the young man was hard – surely not the worst condition by far…
A shudder coursed through him as he disappeared under the covers and knelt between his husband’s thighs. While he stroked his hips, he brought his mouth to Hyacinth’s stomach, kissing the soft, firm skin. His stomach contracted with pleasure. Cautiously, he tongued across Hyacinth’s cock, and a soft moan escaped him because of the promising taste. He took him into his mouth and closed his eyes as he sucked on him guardedly. He became light-headed and felt drops pearl on his own tip, being himself on the verge of climax.
Slowly he let Hyacinth glide in and out until he finally awoke and whimpered. How sweet he was… so endearing… charming…
Hyacinth was noticeably breathless for a moment, and the next inhalation sounded more like a moan than a normal breath. It dazed Vrila’s senses and brought him a sensation of pure satisfaction. He enclosed him more firmly with his lips, and Hyacinth rewarded him by lifting his hips toward him. Again he groaned with a fragile voice, and the delicious sound sent shockwaves through Vrila’s stomach and groin. The fingers of his left hand kneaded his husband’s soft sack; he shoved his right hand under his husband’s bottom. He pushed a finger in and crooked it in a manner that would please Hyacinth – the physician in him knew the right spot and found it, as he noticed to his own satisfaction.
Hyacinth emitted a throaty cry and grasped him by the hair to push his head down while he shoved himself deeper into his mouth. “Yes…”
Vrila was sweating and insanely aroused. He worked the tip of his tongue around his husband’s throbbing erection.
When Hyacinth, with audible delight, wheezed out his first name, he was finally won over. Heavens, this lad was the nail in his coffin, was his beloved, the most precious being in his life. Too precious to belong to him…
Slender legs embraced him, warmed him in a touching manner and held him there where the young man wanted to have him and he wanted to be. Hyacinth took control by raising and lowering his hips in his own rhythm.
Vrila heaved a startled moan when he exuded into the sheets.
At the same moment, Hyacinth came in his mouth and prolonged the sweet sensation of the climax. For the first time in his life, Vrila was really satisfied. And for the first time in his life, he had given someone else satisfaction – a powerful sensation.
Once more he licked across Hyacinths entire erection and caused the young man to shiver. Then he was released and laid his head on the pillows next to his husband, somewhat rattled since it was now over and his arousal was replaced by shame.
As Vrila glanced sideways, he noticed that Hyacinth was breathless and examining him. He emitted a feeble cough and wished he could hide behind his hair, but it had bedded itself on the pillow beneath him, forced by gravity to remain there instead of covering his hideous profile.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked hoarsely with a sense of shame, although Hyacinth had obviously enjoyed their intimacy.
Nevertheless, he had to hear it from that beautiful mouth.
“You could hardly have missed hearing it, hmm?” Hyacinth stated just as hoarsely and sounded flustered, which was becoming to him. He cleared his throat. “Ehm… I… I have to go or else I’ll be in trouble with my teacher.”
Vrila cast a fleeting glance at him to once again see the face that had such an effect on him. He nodded weakly in response. The fleeting glance became a long gaze as he found himself unable to turn away from the boy while he dressed and stood up.
Hyacinth stopped in the doorframe and turned to him with a mischievous smile: “Thanks for waking me up.”
Then he disappeared, and in spite of himself, Vrila grinned at the ceiling before he covered his face with his hands and laughed tenderly.
*
Bathed in sweat, he stood in the bathroom and gripped the washbasin to regain his composure. Hallelujah! He could definitely record that experience as a discovery of new passions.
His whole body shuddered, and he wondered if all people reacted so intensely to new sexual experiences or whether he was an oddity to be so stirred up by what Vrila had done with him.
When he had his breathing under control again, he quickly washed his most necessary places, brushed his teeth and arranged his locks in an acceptable form by combing them with his fingers.
The muscle in his chest beat rapidly and hard, and he wondered when it would slow down again. Or did it intend to continue at that pace for the remainder of the day?
After drawing in an additional deep breath, he left the house to begin the day with learning.
Well, to be exact, he had started it with something quite different. He grinned like an idiot.
No, no, he’d actually begun with learning, because he had learned something! Something about longing and about how fiercely someone could wish for something. Because now he already longed for a repetition of that sinful kind of awakening. He was burning to repeat the experience and hoped Vrila would fulfil his wish.
Indeed, his husband had taken seriously what they’d discussed yesterday. How Hyacinth regarded their relationship wasn’t a matter of indifference to him. Vrila was also not indifferent to his needs. The warm sensation this insight gave him had nothing to do with feeling lust, rather with a pure bond of affection. His shameless grin transformed into a gentle smile. Everything was churning in his empty stomach. If he summoned up the courage, he’d run back and kiss his husband on the cheek. Although he really deserved somewhat more for the pleasure he’d provided.
Instead, he merely glanced yearningly over his shoulder, observed for a moment the house where Vrila remained then entered the one belonging to Mr Wiplay.
*
Nearly two hours after Hyacinth had left the house, someone knocked at the door, and the insistence of the rapping left no doubt it was Sergei.
Annoyed, Vrila rose from the bed he’d laid down on again, fully dressed after a bath, and reluctantly opened the door.
Perkovic appeared upset and agitated, but still sober. His features were pale, although as a rule he sported a slight summer tan.
“What happened? What did you find out?” Vrila demanded outright, regarding him.
“You won’t believe it.” Perkovic scratched his head and crouched on the sofa. He hid his face with his hands then breathed heavily.
“Well, go on and spit it out. Your histrionics are unnerving me.”
“It seems the murder of Vincent Fowler occurred precisely the same week Dimitri was murdered.” He wheezed and returned Vrila’s gaze while he held on to the red shawl he never removed. “The people at Fortlock told me Timothy was released after the usual six months. Three months ago he left the asylum and returned to Elwood.”
Vrila had to sit down because his legs nearly gave way under him. What could that mean? What did Dimitri have in common with Fowler?
“How could those events be connected?”
“Don’t know. I racked my brains about that while running all the way over here.”
“We know too little about Vincent Fowler to be able to discern a connection.”
“Only, the question is whether Timothy will be of any help. The old man just r
emembers his devils. Drivel like his won’t get us anywhere.”
“What could Vincent Fowler have had in common with Dimitri? I mean, where, if at all, would he have known the man?”
“Timothy said his brother worked somewhere in the slaughterhouses. Dimitri would have certainly kept his distance from those places, wouldn’t he?”
“Without a doubt,” Vrila replied grimly. Dimitri had been a refined gentleman through and through. At least, he had preferred to project that image and would have done everything possible to maintain it.
“I can’t imagine the two having anything to do with each other. I mean, a butcher and an attorney from the rich side of town.” Sergei scratched his head again and bit on his chapped lower lip. “Although I knew neither your brother nor Timothy’s personally, it seems improbable that the two had any ties.”
“Then you believe it’s all just co-incidence?” Vrila enquired incredulously and wrinkled his forehead.
The only reply he received was a feeble shrug. “Over and over the threads keep running together in Elwood. Dimitri, Vincent, Florin Genwood.”
“Maybe I ought to look up Tornwauld again.”
“Your husband wouldn’t like it one bit, would he?” Sergei grinned, and that nonsense caused Vrila’s cheeks to blush.
For a brief interval they said nothing until Perkovic broke the silence: “You did complete that assignment for Howard, didn’t you? What if you give him his information only if in return he gives you information about Vincent Fowler? He must know something; after all, he’s a cop.”
Against his will, Vrila had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. “He seems so keen to get the goods on Ferdill he’ll agree even to that. Most probably.” He nodded thoughtfully. “But I don’t know if he’s returned to town yet. He hasn’t made his presence known even though he must realise that time is wasting.” He had copied several appointment dates from Ferdill’s notebook; Howard had already let three of the five pass. Probably he didn’t dare come near Vrila because he’d been arrested and interrogated by Hathaway. It had been one and the same to Vrila, but since Howard might supply new information, he wanted to speak with him.
“Shall we look him up?” Sergei asked. He looked ready to jump to his feet.
“I’d rather wait on Hyacinth. If he learns we undertook anything without him, he’ll be angry with me again.” Vrila realised only at the last moment how much he sounded like a henpecked husband.
Sergei grinned. “You’ve changed a great deal in the past week.”
Vrila hunched his shoulders because he didn’t want to discuss it, but he had to concede the point to Sergei. He had changed, just like so much else had changed since the boy had stumbled into his dismal life.
And at that moment, he concluded he was beyond the point of having second thoughts about what Dimitri might have thought of their marriage. It made no difference to him how much his brother would abhor what he and Hyacinth did. He felt as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and he could breathe freely for the first time in his life.
Without wanting to, he beamed and stood up fitfully to turn away and hide the smile. He coughed lightly and went into the kitchen. “Hyacinth will be home soon. Would you like some breakfast?“
*
“You’re finally here,” Vrila welcomed him with a delighted expression of relief though he still kept his teeth well hidden. He sounded as if Hyacinth had not only returned ten minutes late, but an entire day.
Hyacinth was surprised by the cordial reception, so unlike his husband. In addition, Vrila had said it in front of Sergei who was seated beside him at the table and greeted him with a nod and smile.
Vrila seemed to perceive his amazement and cleared his throat uncomfortably as if he were ashamed of such an obvious expression of joy. “Sergei couldn’t wait to have breakfast,” he offered as a lame excuse. Hyacinth grinned to himself, because he knew how Vrila really felt. His husband was happy he’d returned and gave him the uplifting feeling of being something special, something important to him. That warmed him to his very core.
“Mr Wiplay held me up. He was very talkative today.” He smiled benignly and turned red as he took a seat opposite Vrila. The thought of how he’d been awakened that morning came back to him. His cock also appeared to remember it. Very inappropriate, since they weren’t alone.
“Hopefully he didn’t talk about me,” Vrila said as he furrowed his brow and seemed honestly worried about such a prospect.
“No, he talked about his parents’ orange plantation in Levona. And that he should have taken it over, but was too bound to the Empire at the time to leave.” He averted his gaze to his empty plate and the covered table where all sorts of delicacies were available. “In the meantime, I’m afraid he’s having second thoughts and is sorry the family property was sold.”
“Can we finally begin eating now?” Sergei begged and made an imploring grimace that evoked laughter from Hyacinth.
“Yes, of course!” Vrila nodded and rolled his eyes.
Perkovic shovelled vast quantities of warm pancakes onto his plate and drowned them in maple syrup then grabbed a fork to spear the baked treat with such zeal that one could almost feel sorry for it.
Hyacinth put one of the thin circles of dough on his plate as well, covered it with strawberry marmalade then rolled it up and took it in his hands.
“Anyhow, I don’t understand why he would reject his inheritance. Who would want to stay here if he could go to where it’s warm and peaceful?” Vrila stated while he buttered a bun and placed a slice of cheese on it.
“I also wondered why but didn’t say it out loud because I didn’t want to make him feel even sadder.”
Sergei grinned. “How empathetic he is. Besides, I have news. Vincent Fowler and Dimitri’s deaths seem to have a connection. At least they happened at about the same time.“ In terse sentences he conveyed again what he’d found out at Fortlock.
“What do we do now?” Hyacinth asked in a croaking voice and scrutinised Vrila with wide eyes. Quick and confused thoughts whirled in his head. Were they a step closer to a solution, or was it a completely different path they were now taking?
“The piece of paper from Ferdill’s house. We’ll give it to Howard. In return he’s supposed to hand over Fowler’s file to us,” Vrila explained and coughed before he continued: “It was good you insisted on looking into the matter with Fowler. I most likely would have let it rest.”
The unexpected praise sent a rush of warmth to Hyacinth’s face, and he lowered his eyes. “We don’t know whether it will get us anywhere. Maybe I’ve just seen to it that we’ll get thrown off track and solve a different murder than the one we want to.”
“Well, somebody has to, if the police isn’t capable enough.” Sergei audibly clenched his teeth. He didn’t seem to have much faith in the authorities. Understandable, but what was the exact reason? How had the police disappointed him so badly?
“You will take me with you when you talk to Howard, right?” Hyacinth enquired when he realised he might not be allowed to come along.
“Of course,“ Vrila replied quietly, maybe even gently. “I know you aren’t going to allow yourself to be dissuaded.”
“You’d have to put me in chains and secure me in a crate with double and triple locks on it.”
Sergei chuckled. “Don’t tell him that twice. You’d challenge him to actually do it if he thought you’d be in real danger. He already seems a bit over-protective whenever it concerns you.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Perkovic,” Vrila warned with a sharp glance from the side while his cheeks took on a hint of colour, causing Hyacinth’s pulse to accelerate.
Their looks met, and he attempted a tender smile, although he was almost too nervous to raise the corners of his mouth. Vrila didn’t respond to it but became redder in the face and concentrated intently on his breakfast roll.
It was sweet, though daunting to some extent. So he was to be proven correct as far as his husband’s c
apability of showing emotions was concerned. That wasn’t what pleased him in particular. The fact that there was something Vrila felt for him gratified him much more. Only why? Hadn’t he believed he’d hate the man the more he got to know him? That didn’t seem to be true now. Rather the opposite seemed to be the case, and he still didn’t know how to deal with it.
After a faint groan, he finished the rest of his pancake and washed it down with a sweetened fruit tea. “As far as I’m concerned, we can leave now and blackmail Howard. That is… I mean exchange things with him, of course.”
*
In front of the police headquarters, Vrila handed a beggar some coins and told him to invite Detective Howard out of the building, bring him to the nearest drinking hole around the corner and not reveal who had sent for him.
As the scruffy fellow went on his way, they proceeded on theirs to a shabby bar nearby.
A few steps led down to a door of well-worn wood where several knifes protruded. Some drunk had probably left them there in an inebriated fit or the owner had collected them to embellish the entrance. It caused Hyacinth some concern, given the likely natures of the clientele there.
As they entered, they were assailed by an unpleasant, sharp odour of alcohol and sweat. Inside were only a few patrons who took no particular interest in them. They were either busied with their own drinking vessels or speaking in grim tones with one another.
Sergei ordered three glasses of water, and they sat down in the darkest corner the place had to offer. A few glances were directed their way by some of the rough-looking customers; Hyacinth grabbed for Vrila’s overcoat and held firmly onto it like a little boy – he really ought to be ashamed, dammit!
“Aren’t you well?” his husband asked in a low voice and turned to examine him closely.
“Everything’s fine,” Hyacinth replied and produced a wheezy, not especially convincing laugh. He made the effort to release his fingers from the black overcoat and wrap them around his glass.
A Hyacinth for His Hideousness Page 19