Kid Gloves

by Anna Martin

  It is comforting to think that my words are being kept so close to your skin, to your heart. Yours are kept tucked under my pillow.

  Dalton

  DALTON,

  Sometimes it feels like these months apart are passing so quickly, we have already achieved so much here on the ground and we are preparing to move on once again tonight. The only time I feel like time is standing still is when I have time to close my eyes and think of you, sweet memories of that time we spent together. For some reason I cannot quite fathom that feels like so very long ago.

  Our commander is, as always, keeping plans of our movements close to his chest but he has given the impression we are moving further up the border, a journey that would take several days. I only say this so you do not worry for any delay in the delivery in your letter to me, or my reply.

  My hand is working perfectly; it is certainly warmer here than it is in London but I am used to it, and my new hand has adapted admirably.

  I have notified the commander of my intention to leave the company once my term has been completed. He was a little surprised; in the last meeting we had after I had injured my hand I had stated quite surely that I intended to return to full service as soon as I could. Nevertheless, he is supportive of my decision and has referred me for several other positions that are based in London. One of them is for the Queen’s guard!

  Tell me about the shop, Dalton? Tell me about London, or something of home?

  Tell me what I might have waiting for me when I return?

  Your Finn

  DARLING FINN,

  I am not surprised to hear that you have been referred for such a prestigious position—you are, without a doubt, exceptionally skilled. There is a third role for you to consider, though. It is not for any Queen, but a lowly merchant who makes replacement limbs. You see, this merchant has cause to expand his business into that of rehabilitation, an area where he sorely lacks experience.

  There is a place for you here, Finn, as my partner, if you want it.

  London is sweating under an increasingly warm summer and I cannot say that it is a pleasant experience. News of my business seems to be spreading over the country—I today received a lady from Scotland who had made several days’ travel to come and see me for an arm, not unlike your own. This lady requires a replacement almost to her shoulder, though, after hers was lost in an accident. I have not asked how. It seemed impertinent.

  I have had cause to return to the doctor who first recommended my corsetiere. The pain in my back has increased in recent months, the result, the doctor has assured me, of a lack of movement. I am to leave the shop more often, to take longer walks around our fine city. I was forced to admit that I leave the shop so rarely now, having employed a young boy to collect the money owed to me by various people.

  Tonight come nightfall I intend to take a lap around Victoria Park. I hope it might lift my spirits as well as alleviate some of the pain.

  I wonder if when I look up at the moon tonight you will be looking in the same direction? If both our gazes will be trained to the same place at the same time, almost as if we were looking towards each other. Maybe I will imagine that you are looking up at the same time as I, and maybe that will ease some of the pain in my heart.

  Always, your Dalton.

  DALTON,

  I train my eyes to the moon every night. Even when it is cloudy and overcast or raining I look in that direction, hoping you might see me reflected in the cool light. My heart hurts for you, too.

  I hope that your back is recovering—the doctor is right, you should take plenty of exercise. It is good for the soul, as well as our earthly bodies. That’s what Tennessee tells us, anyway.

  Tennessee offered me an examination, to see if my body had been injured by yours. I told him that we are not intimate in that way. He seemed a little surprised at first, then nodded as if it made sense. Have you had relations with him before, Dalton? I won’t be upset if you have, I am merely curious.

  The offer from the merchant took me by surprise, I will admit. It was not a position that I ever thought would be available to me, but I do believe it will be a good fit for us both. I accept your offer, Mr Dalton, and hope that we may negotiate the finer terms when I return to London.

  I will admit that I ache for home more than ever. We are further away from England than I have ever been before. It is a source of continuous distress for me, each mile that we travel takes me further from you. But that is to change, soon, we have received word from the commander that our return journey has now been scheduled. I have not been given any more information than that, but please be assured that as soon as I have been given my leave I will not stop to rest until I am home.

  Anxiously yours,

  Finn

  MY FINN,

  Firstly, no. Tennessee and I have never had an intimate relationship. We are friends, nothing more, I assure you.

  I have taken to walking around the park twice a day, once after I have taken my lunch and again in the evening. It seems to be improving and you were right—the combination of fresh air and exercise has lifted my spirits as well as helping with the pain.

  Knowing that you are so very far away is a constant worry, as is the fact that you could, at any time, be in danger. My greatest fear is that I might never be able to speak the words to you that are in my heart…. I want to be to you like a husband is to a wife, Finn, and like a wife is to a husband. I want to protect you and keep you safe, and keep a home for us both. We can be both of those things to each other, both husband and wife, let no one tell you any different.

  Have I written too much, I wonder? Made my feelings too plain? Oh well, there is no changing them now, I have committed ink to paper. You should know, Finn, that I can think of not one thing that I would not do for you, please don’t forget that. Please hurry home to me.

  I am now, and always, yours.

  Dalton

  DALTON,

  News at last! The unit who will be taking over our duties here are on their way from London, our commander announced it this very morning. It is a journey of a few weeks, then we will have to formally hand over, then we can start our return journey.

  It will cause me untold pain to write this, but I must—please do not send me any more letters. I cannot be sure they will arrive, and it may put us both in danger if they fell into the wrong hands.

  There are so many things I am desperate to tell you, to return the words you have given to me and many more. Let me tell you them in person, Dalton? We are counting hours and minutes, now, not months and weeks. I know that six months have long since passed, and I am sorry that it has taken longer than anticipated for me to finish this mission and return to you. But be sure, I am coming. I’m coming home.

  I’m sorry that this letter is so short. We are pressed for time, trying to ensure all our work is done here before the next unit arrive. Please know that as soon as the commander releases me from duty I will not stop until I am home.

  I will see you soon. So soon.

  Your Finn

  THE warmth in those summer evenings had just started to once again leech away, drawn into the darker evenings and lost among the stars. Layered in an extra coat, Finn walked the familiar cobbled bricks of Columbia Road, drawn down toward the little shop.

  There was no guarantee Dalton would be at the shop; he could have left to do one of a hundred different chores. Finn had hoped to make it before nightfall, but it had taken longer than he’d expected to stable and settle his horse before walking across the vast city.

  A light shone out through the still grimy windows, and a sigh made its way through each of Finn’s weary muscles. He pushed open the door, noticing how the light seemed to bounce off the clean copper and off into the night. Through the doorway to the workshop Dalton was hunched over something or other and looked up in irritation at the distraction.

  “Finn,” he breathed, his expression immediately lifting.

  Finn smiled, and the weight of the world rose fro
m his shoulders. Less tired than he, Dalton leapt through to the shop and into Finn’s arms, and for a long while they simply clung to each other. Finn crept his hands under the fabric of Dalton’s shirt and molded them to the warm, soft leather underneath. It was a strange comfort, but a very real one.

  “How are you? How was the journey?” Dalton demanded when they finally drew apart. He kept one hand on Finn’s arm as he moved to shut and lock the door, extinguish the lamps, and settle the shop for the night.

  “I’m… I’m tired,” Finn said.

  “When did you sleep last?”

  Finn shook his head. “Days ago. I wanted to get back as soon as I could, they sent me on with food, the others are still on their way back. I need to go to a debrief….”

  “Later,” Dalton said firmly. “Not now.”

  “No. Not now.”

  Finn allowed himself to be led upstairs to where a fire was already crackling in the grate. He dropped his pack and started pulling at his clothes.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No, I’ve eaten.” He hesitated before remembering it was okay for him to ask. “Could I take a bath? I don’t think I’ve had a hot bath for… a long time.”

  “Of course,” Dalton said, chuckling. “It won’t take long. The water’s already hot.”

  While Finn stripped out of his dirty clothes, Dalton set the tub before the fire and filled it with the hot water from the tank. His partner looked thin, Dalton decided as Finn lowered himself into the steaming water with a deep sigh. There was a bottle of rum in his cupboard that hadn’t been touched in some time; Dalton poured a measure into two mugs and offered one to Finn.

  “Here,” Dalton said as he knelt by the side of the tub, exchanging the rum for Finn’s washcloth and soap. “Let me.”

  He started with Finn’s arms, scrubbing them clean with cloth and hard soap until the skin pinkened, and the hairs became silky soft. He took a pair of scissors and trimmed the nails on Finn’s left hand, cleaning the dirt from them and filing the rough edges away.

  “I’ll replace this leather for you tomorrow,” he murmured as he washed around the metal hand, pleased to see how smoothly the fingers moved as Finn sighed again and nodded.

  “Tennessee said that it could do with tuning? I’m not sure what that means.”

  “It’s not a problem, he just means cleaning and oiling and caring for the joints. I can do that too.”

  “Thank you.”

  With his eyes closed, Finn didn’t seem half as world-weary as when he’d walked into the shop, and Dalton refrained—just—from kissing him as he scrubbed away at his chest and back. When his attentions moved to Finn’s feet, he groaned, long and deep, a reaction to the unique pleasure of having one’s aching feet deeply massaged.

  “You’ve had your hair cut short.”

  “Yes,” Finn said grimly. “The company barber got to me.”

  Dalton chuckled and lathered the soap onto his hands to work through the short, neat curls. He thought Finn might be all the way asleep by the time he rinsed the soap out.

  “Come on. Bed.”

  While Finn lazily dried the worst of the water from his skin Dalton stripped down to nothing but his corset, then unlaced that too.

  “That’s a new bed,” Finn said suddenly.

  “Yes,” Dalton said with a barking laugh. “Did you only just notice?”

  “I’ve been distracted. Why did you get a new bed?”

  “The last one was old,” Dalton said, taking Finn’s hand and leading him to the new, larger, much more comfortable bed. “I could afford to replace it, so I did.” He turned back the blankets, and Finn slid in between them, shuffling back to make room.

  They settled themselves in the most natural position: Dalton lying back against the pillows, Finn’s head on his chest. Almost immediately, Finn’s breathing evened and deepened.

  “I wanted you to come home to somewhere you felt safe,” Dalton whispered as he gathered Finn up in his arms and drew the blankets over them both. “This is a bed for two.”

  He kissed Finn’s hair and let him sleep.

  IT WAS dark when Finn woke with a start. He had rolled away from Dalton in his sleep, and the new bed felt strange compared to rough ground or lumpy, uneven tavern mattresses. He tried to make his return to Dalton’s arms smooth and quiet, but Dalton woke anyway and silently fitted their bodies back together.

  The smell of the skin where neck met shoulder was one of Finn’s most favorite things in the whole world. He inhaled deeply and pressed his cheek there, then brushed his lips over Dalton’s neck in the softest of kisses.

  “Am I dreaming?” he murmured. “This must be a dream. It’s too perfect to be real.”

  “If you’re dreaming I am too,” Dalton replied. He hadn’t intended to sleep, and then Finn’s warm body and deep breaths had lulled him into a light nap. “Let’s not wake up.”

  Dalton twisted his head so their lips could meet; a slow, soft, aching kiss that recharged and reconnected their bodies like no other act could. With their naked limbs already twined together, there was no hiding their arousal, nothing to stop desperate fingers from gently touching and stroking and stoking.

  Finn leaned in to press his chest fully against Dalton’s, wanting to feel those softly tickling hairs every time he inhaled, exhaled. Dalton’s hand cupped Finn’s cheek, gently turning his face so their kisses could grow deeper, tongues licking, teeth gently biting, lips desperate for contact.

  They rolled together again, completing the action with Dalton’s body on top, his arms a protective halo around Finn’s head.

  “I want you to be a part of me,” Finn said as he wrapped his arms around Dalton’s waist. “I want you inside me. Before I wake up,” he added with a smile, his eyes still a little glazed from sleep.

  Dalton shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

  “You won’t.”

  “What we have together is just ours, Finn,” Dalton said softly, stroking the hair back from Finn’s face. “You don’t need to feel pressured to do something that you’re not ready for.”

  “You aren’t pressuring me,” Finn said. “Like husband and like wife to each other, that’s what you said? Well, I want you to be my husband now.”

  “Sweet boy,” Dalton murmured, his lips pressing soft kisses to the seam of Finn’s mouth. It was a physical effort for him to tear his body away, to cross quickly to the other side of the room for the few things he needed; some oil, and to refill a mug with another measure of rum.

  When he passed the mug to Finn, Finn raised his eyebrow in a question.

  “Drink that first,” Dalton said. “Trust me.”

  Finn complied, swallowed, shuddered as the rich alcohol slipped down his throat.

  “What was that for?”

  “To relax you. And it helps lessen the pain.”

  “Dalton,” Finn said with a knowing smile, taking the older man’s hand and tugging him down to the bed. “I had my hand so badly trampled by a horse that it was amputated. Do you think I’m scared of the pain?”

  Dalton smiled, twining his living, hot, blood-filled fingers with the copper imitations attached to Finn’s wrist. Finn’s fingers slipped between his own, the thumb gently caressing his wrist. Dalton watched the movement, mesmerized, wondering for the hundredth time if he would ever be able to really understand how this felt from the other side. He knew, from what Finn had told him, that it was almost exactly the same. But Dalton wouldn’t ever know what was different.

  “When you’re with me it feels incredible,” Dalton said softly, still looking at their twined fingers.

  Finn nodded. “Make me feel that way.”

  It was a request Dalton couldn’t refuse. He untangled his hands from Finn’s and started a slow, familiar exploration of Finn’s body, lingering over the wonderfully sensitive nipples that puckered under his touch and a new scar on Finn’s ribs. It didn’t look like a serious injury, but Dalton kissed it better anyway.


  He rubbed his thumb over Finn’s tight entrance, smiling a little when Finn jumped at the sensation. Finn looked right back with an old, familiar defiance in his eyes, challenging Dalton to press on. With little care for the blankets and sheets, Dalton poured a generous amount of the oil on to his hands, quickly slicked it over Finn’s cock to make him gasp and squirm, and then pressed his thumb back at Finn’s entrance until the muscles relaxed, and it slipped inside.

  “I wish you could see what I see right now,” Dalton said as one hand glided over Finn’s cock, the other twisting and teasing inside.

  “Wh-why’s that?”

  “You look incredible.”

  Finn gasped on a laugh, and his hands grasped tightly at the sheets beneath him. One flesh, one metal, both perfect, as far as Dalton was concerned.

  “I’m ready. Please.”

  Dalton gripped Finn’s face and kissed him hard, a distraction, Finn realized, from the twisting pain that arched his spine from the bed as Dalton pushed inside. Finn whimpered, then cried out, his fingers scrabbling for a hold on Dalton’s shoulders.

  “Breathe, sweetheart,” Dalton implored. “Breathe.”

  Finn nodded and sucked air into his lungs, finding that when he exhaled he relaxed and it suddenly didn’t feel so intense. Another moment, and it started to feel good.

  Dalton felt when Finn started to relax and held still until his partner started to move of his own accord, gently rocking himself on to Dalton’s achingly hard shaft. Their eyes met, and Dalton was momentarily stunned at all the shades of color suddenly evident in Finn’s irises: not just brown, but green and gold too. Finn’s lips parted, shiny pink, and he cried out again as Dalton filled him all the way.

  Their bodies trembled lightly, and Finn buried his face against Dalton’s neck, scared of the intensity in his partner’s gaze. Words that he was even more terrified of danced on the tip of his tongue, desperate to escape, to be whispered into Dalton’s ear when they were joined all the way with nothing left between them.