Hyacinth gave a sudden sob when their fingers touched, and a second later, with no compunction, wrapped his arms around Vrila’s neck.
His husband wheezed and pressed him protectively against himself, gently stroked his neck and cuddled his own cheek against the crest of his head.
“You bear no guilt, Hyacinth. Seymour wouldn’t have wanted you to reproach yourself. And I don’t want you to, either.”
Hyacinth could only manage a nod in reply. It was such a solace to his injured soul to hear that. Even though he’d condemned himself, at least Vrila and Mr Wiplay hadn’t done so.
“I could never hate you,” his husband continued quietly.
Why not? Because he… loved him? That thought made his knees soft and he had to completely rely on Vrila to hold him steady. Leaning against him, he closed his eyes and enjoyed how Vrila’s chest heaved against his with each breath. He was so agitated.
“Can you ever forgive me?” That question from Vrila’s mouth sounded much more like pleading than an ordinary request.
“Yes,” Hyacinth whispered and raised his head to look into Vrila’s dark eyes. “I was so afraid of losing you,” he confessed and saw immeasurable astonishment over those words in his husband’s expression. Vrila loved him, but it wasn’t clear to him that Hyacinth reciprocated those feelings. How could he have failed to see something so obvious? Warm shivers ran down his spine when Vrila’s gaze briefly and almost unnoticeably flitted to his lips. Hyacinth gave in to his longing, without waiting for his husband to amass the courage, and leaned forward. Their mouths met in a loving kiss. His heart was racing.
Only at that moment did he finally fathom how much he’d really missed Vrila’s affections. It still hurt – a brief, painful sting to the core of his heart – then his entire existence was fulfilled with that caress.
All those nights, when he’d lain awake and believed Vrila wouldn’t want to have him again, were banished and forgotten.
His kiss became more demanding and was just as passionately answered. The sweet sighs on his lips reminded him of Vrila’s vulnerability and of the circumstance that his husband hadn’t slept for six days.
Breathlessly he withdrew from those soft lips to lift Vrila into his arms without further ado. Vrila’s throat let out a shocked gasp. “Have you lost your mind? What are you doing?“
Rather than replying, he closed his husband’s mouth with an additional kiss. To his satisfaction he was held tightly around the neck while he carried Vrila into the bed chamber where he’d not lain for the past seven nights.
He carefully bedded him in the pillows and climbed over him, was pulled onto the cool body that he longed for so much. Their tongues played with one another and cold hands explored his back at an impatient tempo.
With breaths trembling they removed their clothes. Vrila exchanged places with him and positioned himself between the legs which Hyacinth had slung around him. A hot, damp mouth explored his neck, caused him to moan. His lover reached for the small bottle, oiled himself, massaged his entrance before he cautiously penetrated with the tip of a finger, sighing with arousal while doing so. He moved around slowly inside him, augmented his longing. Gentle fingers stroked his hard length back and forth, exploring him tenderly.
“I need you,” Hyacinth exclaimed raspingly, when he believed he couldn’t wait a moment longer. He meant so much more than sex.
His husband, his dear, beloved husband, who was so marvellous in his desire, cast an irritated but fervent glance from his exquisitely dark eyes and shoved himself into him with an elongated growl. Their lips grasped for each other, they exchanged hot breaths. Pressed tightly to him, Vrila began to glide into him then pull back and instantly fill him again.
Hyacinth slung his arms so firmly around his neck that it must have hurt, but he couldn’t release his grip, couldn’t risk losing Vrila once more. He needed this man so much. He loved him.
In the next moment he achieved climax and ejaculated with a groan. Vrila shoved his tongue deeper into his mouth and his cock once more into his body as far as it would go then came as well.
Breathing heavily, he laid his head on Hyacinth’s shoulders and pressed his sweaty face in his neck. Hyacinth smiled and enjoyed feeling every inch of his husband within him.
For a while they lay motionless before Vrila withdrew and grabbed for the blanket to cover them.
Hyacinth snuggled up to him and rested his head on Vrila’s chest where a heart pounded passionately. “I missed you so much.” He flung his legs around Vrila’s and closed his eyes to breathe in deeply – for the first time in days. Soft fingers dug into his curls, and with a glance upward, he noticed that Vrila was smiling. For the first time since… It touched him so intensely that he had to turn aside to lessen the pleasant pain in his abdomen.
“Did you know Maurice Lynnen?” he asked in the silence.
“Not very well. When I was Seymour’s pupil, he’d drag me along at least once a week to the man’s shop. He bought things he had absolutely no use for, just to see him. His infatuation with Lynnen bordered on obsession.”
Was he mistaken or did he perceive amusement in Vrila’s voice?
“Do you think Mr Lynnen also cared for him back then?”
“I was too young and too… inexperienced to be able to ascertain such emotions.”
Hyacinth smiled inwardly. Vrila was neither especially young nor as inexperienced now yet still he didn’t notice Hyacinth’s feelings for him. He tenderly stroked along his side, consciously felt his soft skin with his fingertips. “What kind of things did he buy?”
“Chairs, footstools, bedside tables, bookcases. At one time his attic storeroom was so full he inevitably stood facing the collection and decided he had to limit himself to smaller purchases in future. Then came statues, ornaments and all sorts of bric-a-brac which he stashed somewhere or other.” With that memory he clearly grinned, and Hyacinth sensed a pleasant tingling in his stomach.
“What was it about the small statue that meant so much to him?” Seymour’s sacred image was still in the inspector’s hands. They hadn’t been able to bury it with him.
“It was a gift from Lynnen. Perhaps... No, I don’t know.“
”Perhaps what? Tell me,” Hyacinth demanded curiously.
“Well, perhaps there was something to it. I was standing beside a massive oak table feigning interest in its delicate carvings when Lynnen gave him the figurine. Seymour was rather embarrassed, and Lynnen… he was too,” he muttered sleepily. “He appeared to be somewhat nervous. The matter was a bit disquieting for me. I felt like I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, as though I were standing in their way.”
As much as Hyacinth had been able to discern, Mr Lynnen had never married and had left no heirs behind.
“So Mr Lynnen may have had the same feelings but unfortunately also the same anxieties as Seymour,” he stated and, lost in thought, ran his fingers across Vrila’s chest. His husband didn’t reply and his breaths became steadier. “I read about a theatre premier this evening. Could we attend?”
For a moment Vrila seemed to be holding his breath and tensing up before he sighed with resignation. “It’s all right with me.”
Smiling, Hyacinth raised his head and looked into his husband’s face before he kissed him on the cheek to thank him for his submission. Despite their having just slept with one another, Vrila treated him to a surprised glance, as if he had expected no further demonstrations of affection.
Once more, Hyacinth snuggled up to him and closed his eyes. Only an hour ago he’d believed he’d perish from emotional pain, and now… now he was exceedingly overjoyed about finally being able to lie in Vrila’s arms again.
*
The entire city appeared to be assembled in the large room, and Vrila felt absolutely uncomfortable in the stifling warmth from all gathered here. Had it not been for Hyacinth’s wish to attend, he’d have fled from the place right then. However, he couldn’t because he’d promised to take his young man
out. They needed to distract themselves with other matters. He knew only too well how Seymour would have chided him for becoming immersed in mourning.
Bravely he stood in a corner of the hall hoping no one would take notice of him. If he made himself inconspicuous enough, no one could mock him. It was less a matter of him than of Hyacinth. What if they also meant to mock him as well, which had happened once before?
Hyacinth would be profoundly hurt, and Vrila would again do something stupid.
His cold fingers were clasped around his champagne glass. Afraid he’d crush it in nervousness, he finally put it back on a waiter’s tray. He hadn’t planned to drink it anyways.
Hyacinth stood next to him, his hands inside his jacket pockets and looked just as tense as he. His parents were somewhere in the crowd. Those wretched people hadn’t even greeted their son when they’d walked past. Hyacinth had also ignored them, but his anxiety wasn’t hidden from Vrila, nor was his trembling when the young man abruptly grasped his hand and held firmly onto him.
It wasn’t easy – for either one of them. The evening was meant to afford them a diversion; instead, it felt more like a baptism by fire. A test of endurance.
Hyacinth cleared his throat and opened his mouth then closed it again and licked his lips before speaking quietly: “You look handsome in that frock coat.” He rasped and corrected himself: “That is, you always look handsome, but especially today.”
Vrila’s heart stopped momentarily as he examined his husband with a scornful glare. “What kind of nonsense are you talking? Has something made you tipsy? Should I check your temperature?”
“Don’t ridicule me when I give you a compliment,” Hyacinth admonished and jabbed him in the side as punishment. His cheeks turned deep red, and he presented a delicious sight that delivered a few imaginary blows to Vrila’s stomach. Almost simultaneously, they turned away from each other to look toward the stage, where someone was giving a speech which they weren’t actually paying attention to.
“You say such silly things; how could I not mock you?”
“I’m telling the truth. I find you attractive. You can raise your eyebrows in that cynical way a thousand times, but it’s true.”
Vrila grinned against his will. “Make sure nobody hears you. Otherwise they’ll want to escort you to Fortlock.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t going to divert me from your flushed cheeks. You need to try harder or else I’ll have to assume you’re strongly affected by my compliment.”
“It must be this subdued candlelight. My cheeks aren’t actually red,” he parried sardonically, although he sensed the heat in his face.
Hyacinth remained silent for a few moments then spoke again. His voice had nothing embarrassed about it anymore but was rough and hoarse: “Do you remember the day we had that terrible argument and you came to the Pecan Bridge to ask Sergei for help?”
“Yes,” Vrila replied after a gulp.
“When we slept with each other on that day…”
“Quiet, youngster,” he admonished Hyacinth, but the lad didn’t let himself be deterred.
“You didn’t want me to look at you. You believed you’d disgust me then thanked me. For my desire, Vrila. You didn’t even notice how ridiculous that was,” Hyacinth exclaimed and stared at him, his brow wrinkled. “Heavens, you’re the first man who’s ever managed to make me feel hot. I… Well, on that day I told you that you mustn’t assume I see you with the same eyes as these idiots here.” He nodded toward the people around them, some of whom were surely overhearing their conversation. “You said, it wouldn’t make a difference whose eyes looked at you. I… didn’t have the courage to reply to you then. I wanted to tell you that in the eyes of the man who was falling in love with you, you looked captivating.”
Vrila drew an audible breath and felt his knees becoming weak. He couldn’t move or open his mouth. Instead, he stared into his husband’s sparkling green eyes as tears formed in his own.
Hyacinth’s shoulders raised as he inhaled sharply. “Well, I have to correct that statement because it’s not entirely true.”
A flood of cold disappointment overcame Vrila. “Not?”
To his confusion, Hyacinth looked amused at him. “No. It would be a double understatement.” His gaze changed, became softer than it had already been. “In the eyes of the man who loves you, you’re the most handsome man possible.”
Vrila’s heart felt like it would shatter in his chest. He stood there like a complete idiot and stared at his young man who appeared more flustered with each passing second.
“Besides, this man I’m speaking of is me,” he continued, trying to maintain a steady intonation. “So that we’re not talking past each other again here.” He made a strange gesture with his hands to illustrate what past each other meant. He couldn’t have looked sweeter doing so. “You know. We like to do that a lot.” He tugged fleetingly at his cravat and swallowed. “I love you, Vrila. Do you understand?”
At that moment he was incapable of more than a terse nod. He began to lean forward and kiss Hyacinth, knowing no other way to respond. He thought twice about it because they were among so many people; therefore he felt more inhibited than usual.
Surprisingly, his attempted kiss enticed Hyacinth to flash a mischievous smile. “Do you think you’re going to escape from me?” With those words, he grabbed him on either side and forced him back – his soft caress perceptibly titillating.
Vrila had to contain himself to suppress his laughter. Instead he chuckled softly to himself and thereby caused his face to flush. “This is hardly the right time for your peculiar moods,” he resisted breathlessly as he stood with his back pressed to the wall.
“It’s never the wrong time to steal a kiss from you,” Hyacinth replied in a muted voice.
Vrila drew him closely against him – forgetting those around them – and beamed without trying to hide his teeth behind a hand. Although Hyacinth had already stopped teasing him, a soft laugh sounded from Vrila. He ignored the impatient ‘Shh!’ of a guest and dreamily observed the lad in his arms. He just had a moment to stroke one of his blond locks from his forehead, then their lips met. He sighed and embraced Hyacinth more firmly. The young man opened his mouth and enticed Vrila’s tongue into it. Vrila couldn’t resist the invitation and shoved it into its warm dampness. The tip of his nose brushed against Hyacinth’s cheek, but it didn’t bother him. His husband grasped his hair and caressed the back of his neck before he released him to stare into his eyes. Vrila saw a new, never-before-seen sparkle flash in Hyacinth’s eyes. It both impressed and touched him. God, he loved this man so completely it hurt. “My dearest one,” he whispered and touched the corners of Hyacinth’s mouth as he smiled.
For several moments the young man laid his head on his shoulder, and Vrila closed his eyes with a smile on his lips while resting his chin on the part in Hyacinth’s hair.
When he opened them again, he noticed half the room gawking at them. And to his own amazement, it was indifferent to him. He had to laugh, attracting even more stares.
“We’ve properly given the city something to gossip about,” he muttered to his husband who unknowingly gave him such moral support that for the first time he didn’t care how people were staring at him. Their evil words could no longer affect him. Hyacinth protected him from those sorts of insults – with his innocence and his affection that made everything else seem exceedingly unimportant. However, the young man shielded him not only with the warmth of his heart but with deeds as well. Vrila unconsciously thought of how he’d gone after Hathaway because the inspector had insulted him. Only now did he fully comprehend the significance of that action, and his pulse quickened.
Hyacinth shrugged and kissed him on the cheek. “Doesn’t matter. They shall see that you’re mine.”
Vrila graced him with a tender look and brushed a temple with his lips before they turned without interest to the speaker and without letting go of their embrace.
*
He nearly f
ell asleep while the man up front drivelled something or other about the theatre’s dedicated finances.
Not that Hyacinth objected to falling asleep, right here and right now, with his head on Vrila’s shoulder, his arm on the small of his back, but he’d likely be an embarrassment to his husband if he did.
Therefore, he’d pulled himself together, but when the man on stage began thanking each and every contributor individually, it became too tedious for everyone. Quiet conversations at the tables filled the room, and a few highly impatient individuals had already served themselves at the buffet.
“I’m hungry too,” he grumbled to Vrila who immediately pushed himself from the wall, on which – certainly behaviour unbecoming for gentlemen – they had been leaning.
“Then let’s get something to eat. Why should we keep on pretending to pay attention?” He delighted Hyacinth with such a mellow smile which even reached his dark eyes, making them glisten. His expression appeared relaxed in a way Hyacinth had never witnessed before.
Once more, something had changed between them. In the space of a few seconds, with a few words. How could that happen? Was it merely his imagination, or did Vrila notice it as well?
At a leisurely pace they ambled over to the buffet. Hanging onto Vrila, he took a plate and let his husband fill it. Vrila didn’t seem in the least bothered by being employed as his head waiter. Perhaps it pleased him that Hyacinth refused to leave his side.
“Would you like to sample this sauce?”
He merely nodded. In reality it didn’t matter to him for the simple reason that, “None of this tastes as good as what you cook.”
A furtive smile fluttered across Vrila’s lips. “Lick-spittle,” he teased him and tried to express a mocking tone, which sounded gentler than he’d apparently intended.
Hyacinth poked him in the side, which caused him to wheeze. “Stop acting as if you don’t like it.”
Vrila was about to respond when they were interrupted by an age-worn, very pleasant-sounding woman’s voice.
A Hyacinth for His Hideousness Page 37