Heavens, this man was the sole reason he’d attended those accursed events in the first place! “Perhaps,” he uttered with difficulty and lowered his eyes because he couldn’t bear his husband’s penetrating look.
At once Hyacinth threw his arms around Vrila’s neck, jumped up on him, wrapping his legs around Vrila’s hips. He then closed his lips with an impetuous kiss. Vrila had expected anything, but not that…
Gasping, he staggered back a step before regaining his balance and being able to firmly put his arms around his husband. His dearest one. How much Hyacinth meant to him couldn’t be expressed in words. He was everything to him. Without that man in his life, he was nothing. He couldn’t exist without him.
Enticingly, their tongues played with one another while he carried Hyacinth into their bedchamber. Together they sank onto the bed. Hyacinth didn’t release his hold but drew him onto the pillows, kept his arms securely around him. His hands glided up and down Vrila’s back, tugged on his coat until he’d pulled it off his body then made the same motions with his shirt. In excitement, Vrila could hardly restrain himself, all too aware of his husband’s desire. Hyacinth wanted him, was pining for him – what an intoxicating feeling, confounding his senses.
Contrary to the lad, Vrila gave himself time despite his passion, and slowly unbuttoned Hyacinth’s shirt. In an erratic movement, he stroked across his chest where a heart was beating incredibly fast. For him?
He pulled away from his young man’s soft mouth to explore his neck with his lips. Hyacinth inclined his head backwards and moaned when Vrila licked the tender skin over his intensely throbbing carotid artery.
“You have no idea how much I love you,” Vrila suddenly exclaimed and snuggled against his husband who held his breath for a moment. He seemed taken aback by the confession – as if it were a secret for anyone.
“Show me,” Hyacinth demanded in a raspy voice.
Endeavouring to obey the command, Vrila stripped the hindering garment from Hyacinth’s upper body, let his fingertips glide along his warm muscles and kissed every inch of his soft skin. His beloved sighed with pleasure when his tongue circled his navel.
Vrila looked up at his husband who had his eyes closed. His eyelashes cast shadows on his flushed cheeks, while he bit gently on his lower lip. To see him enraptured sent shivers to his lower body.
“I worship you,” Vrila whispered, captivated by the sight. He pulled off the young man’s trousers and carelessly let them slide to the floor. His lust was tinged with remorse. “Maybe it wasn’t always this way. I wanted to have you. From possessiveness, I suppose, because you’re beautiful and affected me in a remarkable way. Like no man before.” He kissed Hyacinth’s thigh, and the lad trembled while something in his features let Vrila know he was listening attentively. “I knew then I needed you; however I didn’t give much thought to your wants or your character. Now I know you’re not only beautiful but intelligent, warm-hearted and adorable.” His eyes were burning. “So much more, even. You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. In the past I wanted to possess you. Now I would do anything for you.” He drew a deep tremulous breath. “I wanted you to belong to me. But now it’s the other way around. I’m entirely yours.”
Their eyes met. Hyacinth appeared to be so unbelievably happy, and that meant more to him than he could bear.
*
Hyacinth was overwhelmed by that declaration of love, one he hadn’t expected to hear. Surely not from his husband, so reticent and secretive in emotional matters, who found it extremely difficult to show feelings. Now that very man had made him speechless – with his confession, with the respect he showed him, with the way he did it.
Vrila kissed his hard length, from base to tip. They were gentle, cautious displays of affection which drove his arousal to the verge of tolerability. A warm tongue licked away drops that were immediately followed by others. Hyacinth emitted a restrained moan when his husband took him into his mouth. He became dizzy with passion. In an unconscious motion, he raised his hips to plunge deeper into the moist warmth. Vrila accommodated his wish, closed his lips more firmly around him, sucked on him and played sinful games with his tongue. Hyacinth barely noticed his husband reaching for the small bottle, but he did quite noticeably feel a moist finger glide into him without resistance. A guttural cry emanated from him, and he burrowed a hand into his lover’s silky hair, who seemed to know exactly how to take hold of him to drive him mad. It was so different from the other times. So much more heartfelt, so much more intimate, and Vrila treated him as tenderly as never before. This time was so much more beautiful than he’d believed possible. It was more than he’d ever dared to dream of when he thought about sex. He didn’t know what to do with all of the emotions stirred up inside him. They produced an almost painful tingling in his stomach.
When Vrila laid between his thighs, Hyacinth clutched him to himself and kissed him to share the sensation equally with him. That kiss was so intense – as though someone had caused the world around him to disappear, as though there were no longer anything else of significance.
Impatiently he wrapped his legs around Vrila’s hips. He wanted him, needed him. His husband obeyed his apparent demand and thrust himself into him with unnecessary caution. Hyacinth moaned into Vrila’s mouth and, seeking to hold on firmly, clamped his arms around his shoulders. “So wonderful…”
He was tense to the point of bursting when he felt Vrila’s hard manhood inside him. One thrust against that delicate spot in him, and one excited gasp by his husband were sufficient to bring him to climax. He exuded between their bodies moist with perspiration and relished watching Vrila during that experience, as he climaxed quickly and hard immediately after him. The face he made when he came was so thrilling that Hyacinth continued to pump, and his lower body tightened again in the most delightful way.
Breathing heavily, they held on to each other, cuddled against one another. Hyacinth had to grin because he felt so unbelievably satisfied. He rested a cheek on the part in Vrila’s hair and breathed in its splendid fragrance.
Who would have thought during that terrible night weeks ago that he’d ever fall in love with his husband? And yet he was holding the love of his life in his arms and was as happy as he could ever have believed possible.
Chapter 17
A hard, persistent knocking at the door woke Hyacinth the following morning. Still sleepy, he kissed Vrila’s forehead. His husband had spent the night in his arms, head on his chest. He presented an alluring sight as he lay there naked in a tangle of sheets, muttering softly without awakening.
Hyacinth watched him, smiling, as he dressed hurriedly. Before leaving the room, he yielded to his longing and once more leaned over Vrila. This time he tenderly kissed him on the mouth.
Again, the knocking resounded throughout house, and with a sigh he looked heavenward. “God Almighty, I’m coming already.”
He hastily stepped out into the living room and recognised Bartie standing outside on the street. Once more holding up a fist to rap against the glass, he then saw Hyacinth and waited for him to open the door. What could Bartie possibly want from them so early in the morning? Behind the man stood a coach whose driver had pulled a hat down over his face. The horses were patiently waiting to start moving again. Was Bartholomew planning to leave on a trip?
“What’s going on?” Hyacinth enquired.
“I have to leave the city for a few days,” Bartholomew replied, the corners of his mouth slightly turned up. Something about his facial expression was disquieting.
“Has something happened?”
“No, nothing. A private affair. Family matter, you know?” He chuckled. It didn’t sound insincere but also not particularly pleased. Much more like extremely harried. “By the way, the whole city is saying the affair between you two must be true love.” He grinned. “Word about last night’s incident has quickly made the rounds.”
Involuntarily, Hyacinth had to smile. He experienced a most profound satisfaction t
hat people knew. The whole world ought to know he was Gavrila Ardenovic’s dearest one. And that the man belonged to him alone.
“I’m so pleased everything seems to have been resolved,” Bartie continued. “Even if I, as your friend, contributed very little to it.” The man didn’t allow him time to say anything conciliatory but stepped closer and grabbed his hand. “Hyacinth, I want you to listen very carefully now.”
With a gulp, he managed to nod. Suddenly he felt queasy.
Bartie pressed a piece of paper into his right hand. “That’s an address. If anything strange should happen while I’m gone, write me a note. Describe what happened, and I’ll be back right away.”
Hyacinth wrinkled his forehead in impatience. “So, what do you think’s going to happen? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bartie, are things okay with you? You’re making me wonder.”
“It’s only a feeling,” Bartholomew retorted with a bemused expression. “The secret society; we’re always chasing after that damn group. Likely nothing will happen, but just in case… it’s extremely important that you let me know about it without delay. Alright?”
“Yes, as far as I’m concerned.” Hyacinth shrugged his shoulders and shoved the paper into a pocket of his trousers. If it was so important to their eccentric old friend, then he’d keep him informed.
“By the way, you two should keep your distance from Haggard.”
“Murphy? Why?”
“The good man came by my place yesterday and asked me if I also found Gavrila suspicious.”
Anger welled up inside Hyacinth. “What?”
“He believes we know almost nothing about Gavrila. And how he treats you verges on abuse.”
“He was in mourning,” Hyacinth countered a bit too gruffly. In any event, Bartie had nothing to do with his aggravation. It was Haggard alone who was trying to drag his husband’s reputation through the mud.
“I know, young man. I never would have had any cause to accuse Gavrila of betrayal. But Haggard, the idiot, has the idea in his head that he might belong to the secret society, using you for its filthy activities.”
“That’s ridiculous!” He bit back and could barely contain his rage.
“Calm down. We need to keep a cool head. It seems to me, we are getting closer to our goal without much effort required on our part. Haggard is stupid and frightened. We needn’t devote any further attention to the matter.”
“Whatever you say.” Presumably, Bartie was right. It was smarter to keep one’s distance from Haggard. The man was not a true friend, anyhow, if he was running to someone else behind their backs, denigrating them. He wasn’t worth getting worked up about. He wasn’t worth the trouble!
Bartholomew sighed and gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulders. “Take care and consider my words. Greetings from me to Gavrila. We’ll see one another soon.” With that farewell a smile flitted across his face; he then turned away and climbed into the coach.
Hyacinth stared at it until it disappeared around the corner. And even a bit longer because he was absorbed in thought.
“What are you doing out here?”
Startled, he turned toward the dark voice addressing him and saw Sergei unexpectedly standing next to him.
“Nothing, really,” he weakly evaded the question because he didn’t want to explain Bartie’s strange appearance. Especially not twice, because he’d have to tell his husband, therefore Sergei would learn about it soon enough.
“May I come in? Is Gavrii here?” Perkovic asked after clearing his throat, looking unsure of himself. He’d buried his hands deep into his coat pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched.
Hyacinth in turn grinned and waved him into the house. “Of course you may come in. Vrila is still sleeping.”
“Really?”
With a hint of pride – because he had been the one who’d enabled his husband to sleep – Hyacinth nodded.
Sergei sat at the table and started to say something, but fell silent when Vrila stepped out of the bedroom. The two looked at one another and nodded, as if the gesture sealed their reconciliation. The corners of Hyacinth’s mouth turned up in amusement.
“Good morning,” Vrila said hoarsely and seemed somewhat uncertain as he joined him in the narrow kitchen.
“Good morning.” Hyacinth blinked softly and drew him close for a kiss and thereby to entice him into a smile.
While Vrila prepared breakfast, he made the tea and carried the filled cups over to the table. He took a seat across from Sergei and drank a hesitant sip to warm himself up after having stood in front of the door.
”The entire town is talking about you two,” Sergei finally stated, his fingers around the porcelain cup.
“Yesterday evening was very… eventful,” Hyacinth replied and winked at his husband who was clearing his throat. Meanwhile, he devoted himself to slicing bread.
“Where have you been these past few days?” Vrila asked to guide the discussion to a less entrapping subject. One less embarrassing to him – his red cheeks clearly indicated his discomfort. Hyacinth was greatly pleased by the sight.
“Here and there.” Sergei shrugged his shoulders. ”Haggard found out something that might help us.”
As the name was spoken, Hyacinth tensed up involuntarily.
“Allegedly, his sister sought the aid of an attorney to sue the man who fathered her daughter. Shortly afterwards, she and her child were murdered.”
Vrila brought the plates and sat down beside Hyacinth. “What sort of attorney was that?”
Sergei hungrily started on his bread and cheese while speaking with a full mouth: “I don’t know. Haggard found a whore who worked frequently with his sister. She told him about it but couldn’t remember the name. Maybe she doesn’t know it at all.”
“Did she know anything else?” Hyacinth enquired while he poked with no evident appetite at his scrambled eggs.
Sergei shook his head. “Nothing meaningful.”
“Hyacinth, you should eat that and not play with it,” Vrila quietly scolded him.
Hyacinth quickly returned his dark glare and worked up the nerve to tell the two of them about Bartie’s visit. Also about Haggard’s stupid accusations. Following that, the room fell silent.
“I already knew about Haggard’s idiocies,” Sergei confessed grimly. “He said the same things to me. I sent him packing.”
“Thanks,” Vrila replied tersely. He then turned to Hyacinth whose distressed expression didn’t please him at all. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Horrified by the question, he exhaled with a gasp. “Of course not!” How could Vrila assume he didn’t stand completely behind him and actually believed such ludicrous nonsense?! Hyacinth was certainly no idiot. In addition, he trusted his husband like no one else in his life.
“No one other than Haggard believes that. Grief has robbed him of his reason,” Sergei interjected with a dismissive wave and, with his fork, scraped up the remains of his breakfast from the plate. “We ought to speak with Tornwauld. He came to mind while I was thinking about Timothy’s encounter. Maybe that lunatic saw who did it.”
Vrila signalled his agreement with a faint nod.
“How is it with Timothy? Is he well again? Have they released him from the hospital?” Hyacinth asked and dreaded hearing the answer.
Sergei’s shoulders raised as he took a deep breath and tugged at Laurent’s red shawl around his neck. “He’s dead.”
The room fell silent again and a sombre mood covered them like a dark cloak. Hyacinth remembered how the old man had sat at their table and told them of his terrible memories. Something cramped inside his chest, and he recognised in his husband’s facial expression that he felt much the same.
“Bartie thinks we’ve nearly achieved our goal. I doubt it,” Hyacinth stated with resignation.
Good people in their circle of acquaintances had to lose their lives, and people he thought were their friends had turned their backs on them. What else was likely to happ
en before they found a solution to the puzzle?
*
As they crossed over the Elwood Bridge, Hyacinth looked at Vrila. The young man had linked arms with him the entire way here. If his husband was still embarrassed by him, he didn’t notice it – not at all. He felt immeasurable relief.
“No little finger kisses today, huh?” Hyacinth muttered and gently furrowed his brow. He looked so attractively jealous that Vrila’s heart beat faster. His husband was jealous on his account!
“No kisses,” he assured his sweetheart. If Tornwauld refused to reveal anything to them without his bribe, then he’d just have to remain silent this time.
“I’ll be curious to know what the fellow might tell us,” Sergei said with harsh anticipation while rubbing his hands.
Vrila thought about the story of Laurent des Carnasses. Knowing about it suddenly made Perkovic’s grim determination more understandable. He now had a better sense of why the man was so intense. If anything happened to Hyacinth, he’d not have the strength to keep on living. As his throat tightened, he forced those dark thoughts out of his mind. Nothing was going to happen to his lad. He’d see to that. He’d do anything for him.
“Tornwauld!” he called into the empty, narrow street they were slowly walking down. He listened intently to the spectral silence peculiar to this island. “Tornwauld!”
Rustling came from somewhere. Each of them looked around, but they were alone in the narrow street. Hyacinth shook his arm and when Vrila turned to him, he gestured upward with his head. Vrila glanced in the same direction and discovered Tornwauld on one of the tin roofs. His legs in tight, black trousers were dangling casually over the edge, and a grin broadened on his face. He was in a nobleman’s frock coat, had certainly stolen it from somewhere. On his head he wore a short-cylinder hat and in his hands he held a black walking cane, probably concealing a dagger within its shaft. In that suit and in the desolate, foggy surroundings he appeared to have sprung from some dismal fairy tale.
A Hyacinth for His Hideousness Page 39