Sharp Love (Gambling on Love)

by March, Ava

  A quick kiss and Will climbed out of the bed.

  * * *

  After wiping the oil from his cock, Will dunked the cloth back into the washbasin, wrung it out and tossed it to Jack.

  With a murmured “Thanks,” Jack deftly caught it.

  Giving Jack his back, Will went to the table and investigated the contents of the paper sack. He would have much preferred to see to the task for Jack. To command Jack to bend over the side of the bed. To drag the wet cloth down the crease of Jack’s arse. To wipe every trace of oil from his most intimate skin. He had a feeling Jack wouldn’t object. That Jack would enjoy such attentions. That he might actually ask to see to the task for Will on the next occasion.

  The thought held definite appeal. Jack on his knees before him, carefully cleaning all traces of their activities from Will’s cock and ballocks. The man took great pride in his work. Never did anything halfway.

  A devoted Jack soaping him up, water-slicked hands sliding over Will’s skin, attention focused completely on the task set to him.

  Will’s sated prick began to harden.

  But another time. Another afternoon or evening. He wasn’t of a mind to rouse them both up again, at least not yet. He didn’t want to disturb the quiet post-orgasmic lull. Jack’s guard down, the nervous edge gone. Wanted to simply be with Jack.

  Satisfied he’d given Jack enough time to clean himself up, Will picked up their breakfast and turned from the table. “The smallclothes again, Jack?”

  Sitting on the bed, Jack was pulling the garment up his legs, the wet cloth wadded up and discarded on the floor. A wiggle of his hips, and he tied the string at his waist. “Don’t want to get bread crumbs on my nackers.”

  Valid point. “Could prove a bit uncomfortable.” Will sat on the mattress near the foot of the bed and propped his back against the wall. He pulled out a small orange tart then held out the paper sack to Jack. “Though I’d be more than willing to help you remedy the situation.”

  Leaning forward, Jack took the sack, fingers brushing Will’s. “Of course you would,” Jack said under his breath, the rustle of paper as he reached inside almost drowning out his comment. A hint of a blush crept up his neck.

  Hell, Jack was fun to tease. But Will reined in the urge to play with him further, to tease Jack until the blush spread across his cheeks. He could tell Jack was still getting acquainted with the notion of lovers teasing each other, that the exhilarating clash of embarrassment and lust was something to relish and not jerk back from in defense.

  Still, Will couldn’t let Jack’s comment go ignored. “Friends help each other out, after all.”

  Jack gave his head a shake, a smile tugging with the edges of his mouth. He tore a hunk off the loaf of bread and took a bite.

  Settling in, Will rested his head against the wall and partook of the pastry, which happened to be quite good. The sweetness of the baked orange slices, the flaky crust. Silence fell between them. A pleasant sort of silence that Will had no desire to fill. The sounds of the busy street drifted into the room. The muted drone of carts and horses and men going about their day.

  He should get up. Prod the fire. The coolness in the air was starting to seep into his skin. Instead though, he finished off the pastry.

  “I tried to help out more,” Jack said, voice low, full of contemplation and a heavy thread of guilt.

  Will looked to Jack. The man’s attention was fixed on the bread in his hand, a furrow pulling his brow.

  “You were so resourceful,” Jack continued. “And I wasn’t. I’d have starved ten times over if not for you. I wanted to do more. I hated some of the things you did to keep a roof over our heads. Thought if I could get money for us then maybe you’d stop. But I couldn’t do it. Once I even had a little porcelain figurine in my hand. A dog. One of those small ones with floppy ears that wealthy ladies favor. But...” He shook his head. “I put it back on the shelf. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to do it.” He picked at the edge of the bread’s crust. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more. That I left that burden on you.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Jack. And I’m glad you never stole.” It hadn’t been anything for him to nick something from a shop or to pick a man’s pocket. But Jack? All his efforts would have been for naught if Jack had pushed himself to steal and lost his conscience in the process.

  “But you did everything and I merely...took.”

  “I beg to differ. You saved my arse from a well-deserved beating more times that I care to count.” Hell, just being able to call Jack friend had served as a potent deterrent to any footpads or ruffians who thought to look on Will as easy prey. Even as a young adolescent, Jack had rivaled most men.

  Jack shook his head, as if his willingness to deploy his fists on Will’s behalf had been nothing of any consequence. “At the very least, I should have given you some of my earnings once Gillworth hired me on.”

  “I happen to know the man paid you pennies. Pennies, Jack. Not even enough to live upon.” Gillworth, the greedy old bastard who had owned the livery, had taken full advantage of Jack’s desperation for an honest position. Had allowed Jack to help out at the livery for years before he’d finally agreed to pay Jack a pittance for his labor, claiming the pallet in the stable’s garret had accounted for most of his wages. Will had taken great delight in picking the bastard’s pocket whenever the opportunity had arisen. “And I wouldn’t have taken anything from you even if you tried to push it on me.”

  “I know, but still...”

  “Stop, Jack. Enough with the guilt. We were a team, you and I. Without you, I likely wouldn’t have survived long enough to leave St. Pancras, and without me, Mr. Cottington would have worked you in that damned coalmine until you dropped dead.” The apprenticeships St. Pancras commissioned for the boys in their care had been more along the lines of slave labor than an opportunity to learn a useful skill. “We stuck together, and because of it, we are both alive today. That’s what matters.”

  A heavy furrow crossed Jack’s brow. “Perhaps.”

  “Not perhaps. It’s the truth. Now please, can we cease with the guilt? There’s absolutely no need for it.”

  Jack let out a breath. “Are you still upset with me for leaving to live at the livery?”

  Will hadn’t expected that question, though he was able to hide the stab of pain. “No, of course not. That was ages ago.”

  Jack pulled his attention from the last hunk of bread in his hand, met Will’s gaze. “The truth, Will.”

  He’d felt...betrayed. Abandoned. He had understood why Jack had left. Knew that Jack valued an honest position above all things, even Will. And yes, as Jack had recently reminded him, they had been fighting more often than not at the time. But understanding hadn’t stopped the hurt. Still didn’t stop the hurt. Jack had left him then without a backward glance, and would soon leave him once again without a backward glance.

  And Will knew when Jack was called back to his duties as a carriage driver it would hurt more than it did a decade ago. But he’d rather have that pain than not have this time with Jack.

  As he toyed with the frayed hem of the blanket bunched at the foot of the bed, he considered his response. There was no use whatsoever in baring his soul. Wasn’t as if it would push Jack to give up his position with the duke and remain with him. But he also couldn’t outright lie to Jack. His friend has asked for the truth, so Will needed to give him at least part of it.

  “We’d been together for ten years, since we were but six years of age. It was...odd not living with you.” Not coming home to Jack. Not having Jack to turn to, to lean on. Not having Jack in his life. “You’re the only family I’ve ever known.” He lifted one shoulder in a mockery of a shrug, as if the statement meant little to him when in fact it meant the world. Then he looked to Jack. “Of course I was upset with you at the time. But am I still angry with you for going to live at the livery? No.”

  It was the truth. It wasn’t anger that lingered along the edges of his
heart, but hurt. He hadn’t been good enough for Jack to stay with back then, and he still wasn’t a good enough man for Jack to want to spend the rest of his life with. While he no longer nicked shops or dived men’s pockets, he still cheated and he still sucked cock for spare coins. The only reason why he and Jack weren’t currently fighting was because he had temporarily ceased those activities in favor of spending these days with Jack.

  Jack had never hidden his disdain for the way Will had chosen to live his life, and Will had never apologized for his choices. Nor would he begin to now. In any case, if it wasn’t for Will’s lack of morals, they both would have starved ten times over, as Jack had put it.

  “When do you think you’ll have enough saved to leave London?” Jack asked.

  “Hopefully soon.” He needed to return to the gambling tables in order to continue filling the sack beneath his floorboards. But the tables would still be there, waiting for him, in a fortnight. Whereas Jack would likely be recalled to his duties in Hampshire by then.

  “You plan to purchase a property, don’t you? What sort of property?”

  “A farm.” Where he’d never be hungry again.

  Jack blinked, taken aback. “You’d become a farmer?”

  “You needn’t sound so surprised.”

  “It’s just... I never knew you had aspirations to till the land. The first time you mentioned you were saving for a property was a few days ago.” Jack tilted his head slightly to one side, as if remembering something. “That’s why you have those books and those spinach plants.”

  Will tipped his head. “Can’t very well grow anything if I don’t know a whit about how to go about it.”

  “Have you always wanted to be a farmer?”

  “I wouldn’t say always. I knew I didn’t want to spend my entire life in London.” Where it had always been a struggle to simply make it to the next day. As a boy, his dreams hadn’t been of the fanciful variety, but rather tame. A full plate of delicious food for supper, a soft bed to lie down on at night, a place to call home. And when he was in a particularly wistful mood, he’d dream of having someone to love him.

  Silly, childhood dreams.

  “So when did you decide?”

  Will shrugged. “About the time you went to work for the duke. Decided if I wanted to one day make a change in my life, I needed to start working toward it.”

  Jack’s lips thinned. “I wouldn’t term it working.”

  “I would, and I do,” Will shot back, before he could hold back the reply. Then he let out a sigh. He didn’t want to start an argument with Jack. Not now. “Are you happy in the duke’s employ, or do you have greater aspirations?”

  “I count myself very fortunate to have my current position. When I was a boy, I hoped I could one day be a groom outside of London. At a posting inn or maybe perhaps even a gentleman’s estate. Never considered I’d be able to work for a duke, let alone one who treats his employees with respect and pays them well.”

  All of which Will already knew. Jack had been enamored of horses ever since Will could remember. He had even worked at the livery without pay for years just to have the opportunity to gain experience with horses.

  Do you think I could be a groom someday, Will?

  Of course, Jack. I bet you’d be real good at it, too.

  And Jack’s young eyes had lit up with happiness at the prospect.

  If a horse hadn’t cost so much to keep, Will would have stolen one for Jack ages ago, just so Jack could have spent his hours brushing the beast instead of huddled in some doorway, waiting for the days to pass.

  “But are you happy?” Will asked.

  And why did he want Jack to answer in the negative?

  Because then there might be a slight sliver of hope for them. Because then Jack might want to find a new position, maybe one close to Will’s future farm.

  A pause. Will’s heart lurched in his chest.

  Jack nodded. “It’s more than I ever thought I could have.”

  The stark honesty in Jack’s voice acted as a cushion of sorts, softening the blow. Still, Jack’s nod had hurt.

  But what had Will expected? And he needed to stop asking Jack questions he already knew the answers to. “The duke’s fortunate to have you, Jack.”

  Jack lifted one massive bare shoulder. “I wouldn’t exactly term it fortunate—”

  “I would. You’re a loyal, more-than-competent employee who can be trusted not to nick the silver or to spread gossip about town. Hell, he entrusts his precious Mr. Walsh to your care. I repeat—he is lucky to have you.”

  Jack tipped his chin down, a touch of warmth coloring his cheeks. “Perhaps,” he said, more a mumble than an actual word.

  “Perhaps is damned right.” Will pushed up from the bed. “And it’s getting damned cold in here.”

  “Clothes are known to help with that situation.”

  “As does prodding a fire.” Crouching before the hearth, Will turned words into action. The flames flared, flickering up toward the soot-covered flue, throwing off a welcome wave of warmth. “Are you still hungry? I can stop in at a tavern, grab us some luncheon, if you’d like.”

  “I am a bit hungry...but not for food.”

  Will paused. Had he heard Jack correctly?

  Yes, he had.

  He rested the iron poker against the brick surround. Pushing to his feet, he turned to Jack. “What are you hungry for then?” he asked, doing his best to sound casual and to keep the predatory smile from spreading across his lips.

  The way Jack’s gaze settled on Will’s hardening cock was answer enough. Yet Will couldn’t possibly let Jack off that easily.

  “What do you want, Jack?” He crossed the distance separating them and stopped at the side of the bed, next to Jack.

  Jack’s throat worked as he swallowed. “To taste you.”

  Reaching out, Will ran a hand through Jack’s hair, the black tousled strands like silk between his fingers. “I expect you to lick up every last drop, you understand?”

  Will actually witnessed the shiver of lust briefly grip Jack’s body, seize those massive muscles.

  Jack nodded once. “Yes, Will,” he said, voice gone hoarse.

  He might not be good enough for Jack’s forever, but he was good enough for right now. And as Jack leaned toward him, bowing his head, his mouth opening for Will’s erection, Will found an inordinate amount of pleasure in being Jack’s right now.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next few days passed in a blur of companionable afternoons at the coffee house, pleasant evening meals, and scorching hot nights in Jack’s room at the hotel. It didn’t take Will long at all to recognize that Jack’s soul craved submission. Needed it. Yearned for a strong hand to yield to. And Will was more than willing to provide that strong hand, to help Jack see that there was nothing shameful in wanting to submit to another.

  Will even began playing with anticipation, acquainting Jack with the pleasure that could be found in expectation. Mindful of Jack’s past experiences, Will kept their pace slow. A discreet touch to Jack’s hip, one that carried the weight of more than an accidental tap, on their way back to the room after a short evening’s stroll. A heated stare over a supper of roasted chicken that declared Will’s intentions louder than words.

  With each instance, Jack would start, a bit of restlessness seeping into his movements, a bit of shock that Will would be so bold. But as long as Will maintained an air of casual nonchalance, true worry did not appear to rear its head. And when it came time to crawl into bed together...the way Jack would all but beg to be taken said louder than words perhaps Jack was ready for their play to advance another step.

  Still, even though Will could feel time pressing on his shoulders, even though he knew he only had so many nights at his disposal, he proceeded slowly. He could feel Jack’s trust in him, but it was still a fragile thing. If he moved too quickly, there was a risk he’d push for too much, cause Jack to stumble back, retreat from their bed. And it was almost as if a par
t of him feared if he helped Jack explore all of his submissive desires and become fully comfortable in his own skin, then what would keep Jack from going to another’s bed?

  Ridiculous worry. Jack might no longer need him to procure their next meal or keep a roof over their heads, but Jack was loyal to his core. He wasn’t at all the type to bump Will to the street simply to get from another what he could get from Will.

  And so Will pushed that beyond ridiculous worry from his mind, and focused on what Jack needed and their nights together, albeit at a rather slow pace...but only out of caution, out of care for Jack, his modest giant.

  There were times when Will had to catch himself though. Catch words best left unsaid before they tumbled from his mouth. Catch his heart from reading more into their nights than he knew Jack intended. Those moments when Jack would brush his lips across Will’s as they were settling in to get some sleep. The room dark, Jack’s bare body pressed against his, Jack’s arms holding him close. A light brush of a kiss, the sort Will imagined long-established lovers gifted each other without a second thought. And each time Jack gave himself over to Will, entrusted Will with his pleasure. When he had to remind himself that no, Jack’s submission was not interchangeable with a declaration of love. That it made perfect logical sense that Jack would trust Will above all others. That no, Will wasn’t the special someone Jack had chosen to spend his life with. They had been friends for two decades. After years of self-imposed celibacy, Jack was allowing himself to explore his desires with his old friend. Nothing more.

  And as the days passed, Will tried to ignore how often he had to remind himself of that.

  Will scooted the table closer to Jack’s armchair so they could share supper together, a plan for their evening swirling in his head. An attempt to take their play to the next step. It was beyond time, after all. He could sense Jack’s eagerness, his readiness for more. For blunter commands, for a more wicked game. A game he strongly suspected both of them would wholeheartedly enjoy. Will had just sat down when Jack leaned forward, his attention pinned out the window.