The Highwayman Came Riding

by Qeturah Edeli

  So, Augustus was a virgin too, whatever that meant. Suddenly, Elias felt a little better about everything. He decided he did not care to know details about Augustus’s old beau.

  “Do you mean to say neither of us really knows what the fuck we’re doing?” Elias asked.

  “Well, I suppose you’ve a better idea than I.”

  “Why, because some redcoat disturbed me?”

  “And you work in a tavern.”

  “And you think all the sods sing songs about what they do with their beaux?”

  “No, but—”

  “Working in a tavern does not mean I know more than fuck all about anything other than alcohol, I assure you.”

  “Ah.”

  “Dashed your hopes, did I?”

  “No, only…”

  “What?”

  “You just look like you should know things.”

  For the millionth time, Elias wished he had even the vaguest notion of his appearance.

  “Well, I know very little beyond the realm of booze, the post, pianoforte, and politics.”

  “You never talk with the working girls?”

  “Certainly, but we talk about France and Spain and America, those sorts of things.”

  “I feel as though there is a vastly untapped resource right in your own garden just waiting to be explored.”

  The idea of talking about men with Emily was horrifying. She was like a surrogate mother to him, wiping smudges from his face when Bess was busy serving, telling the patrons to cease with their teasing, and distracting Elias’s father when he was drunk and combative.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “If you don’t ask them, I will.”

  “You don’t worry what they’ll think of you?” Elias demanded.

  “They take money for sexual favors. What do I care of their opinions of me?”

  “They’re people too, you know.”

  There was a long pause. “You’re right,” Augustus said.

  “Of course I’m right, you pompous twat. Show the girls some fucking respect.”

  “I will.”

  “God, you’re such a snob sometimes.”

  Augustus touched his elbow. “I’ve a lot to learn about…everything. Are you getting cold?”

  Elias, who still wore his cloak, was not cold, though he suspected Augustus, who wore nothing but his coat, must be freezing since they had stopped kissing. They had been in the glen for some time, and it was now the dead of night.

  “A little,” Elias lied. “Care to walk me home?”

  They passed Kenneth Davies, who called out a halfhearted greeting, on the way to the Peach and Pear, but otherwise returned undisturbed.

  Chapter Twenty

  “This Westwood you’re going with,” Elias’s father said to him a few mornings later as they dried tankards and tumblers together. His father rarely woke early in the day, and even less frequently assisted with tidying. He must be curious, for it sounded like Bess had shared only basic details about Augustus. Elias had been annoyed when his father tossed Lord Nelson into the back garden, claiming his fur was getting everywhere, but their interaction had been otherwise pleasant so far. “Is he a good kisser?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Won’t have my boy courting leeches.”

  “No leeches, Father, on my honor.”

  “Good.”

  It was the closest they had ever had to having a normal, friendly conversation.

  When Augustus walked into the Peach and Pear in the early afternoon, Elias’s father was sitting at a table nursing a tumbler of whiskey as Elias wiped down the bar.

  “Eli—oh, I didn’t realize you were open,” Augustus said.

  “We’re not,” Elias’s father said. Then, “I guess you’d be the Westwood sod, wouldn’t you?”

  “Father—” Elias began, but Augustus interrupted.

  “And what if I am?” Augustus demanded. Elias heard the floorboards creek.

  “Stow the knife, Westwood, I don’t fight little girls,” Elias’s father said, sounding tired. “I don’t care if you fuck my son. Sit down. Elias, bring him a compote.”

  “No, I don’t want anything,” Augustus protested.

  Elias put down his rag and went to the kitchen to retrieve breakfast leftovers: a pear compote with cream. When he returned, Augustus and his father were still arguing.

  “What I do with your son—if we do anything at all—is none of your business, you nosy drunkard!” Augustus was yelling. He stopped when Elias neared the table. “Thanks, Eli,” he muttered, panting, when Elias put the bowl of compote and a spoon in front of him.

  “Eat up,” Elias’s father said. There was a long silence, and then the sound of a spoon hitting the side of a bowl.

  “This is good,” Augustus said begrudgingly after a moment.

  “Bess made it,” Elias said.

  “She’s a good cook.”

  “Damn right,” Elias’s father said. “Now finish that, and we’ll talk about how long you’ve been fucking my son without having so much as introduced yourself.”

  “I never said we—”

  “I don’t care,” Elias’s father said. “Only, if you break his heart, I swear to God I’ll cut yours out and give it to him on a platter.”

  Elias wanted to die.

  “I beg your pardon?” Augustus asked, throwing down his spoon with a loud clanking.

  “Treat my boy well. I’ve got my eye on you because he can’t watch out for himself.”

  “I’m blind, not an idiot,” Elias argued, but his father spoke over him.

  “Won’t have anyone disappearing him like they did his poor mother either.”

  “Mother’s dead,” Elias snapped. “It’s been what, fifteen years?”

  “Shut it, boy,” his father growled. “Now take your beau and go upstairs.”

  “Not my beau,” Elias said.

  “Upstairs?” Augustus demanded, incredulous.

  “Let’s go,” Elias said. He did not trust either Augustus or his father in a room together for too long, based on how things had progressed so far.

  “But—”

  “Now,” Elias snarled, so Augustus stood, took Elias by the elbow, and led him to the back door.

  “Here?” Augustus muttered.

  “Through the door. Then there are some stairs,” Elias explained, and let Augustus lead him upstairs.

  “Now where?” Augustus asked when they were at the top of the stairs.

  “Second last door on your left,” Elias said.

  “But wouldn’t your bedroom be the last on the left?” Augustus, who had known where to knock weeks ago, asked. Elias wondered if he had watched the windows to figure this out, which made him wonder what Augustus had seen him do through his bedroom window in the evenings.

  “I don’t want Bess walking in on us. The spare bedroom is the second last. The third last is my father’s room.”

  “Between Scylla and Charybdis,” Augustus murmured as they made their way to the spare bedroom.

  Elias produced the key from his pocket and passed it to Augustus. “You’ll be faster,” he said.

  Augustus took the key and had them in the room within a matter of seconds. He passed it back to Elias, who tucked it into his pocket with his and Bess’s bedroom key. Augustus shut the door behind them.

  “Did your father just order me to take you to an inn bedroom?” Augustus asked, a hand on Elias’s shoulder.

  “Yes.”

  “Does he know what we could get up to in here?”

  “Yes. He cares not a whit what Bess and I do, if we are discreet about the objectionable activities.”

  “So you and I could commit buggery up here, and as long as Kitwick doesn’t know what’s going on, he doesn’t care?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My father’s a simple man, really. He doesn’t give a shit about much beyond his reputation and alcohol. And me doing God knows what in a priv
ate bedroom with another man doesn’t affect what the public thinks of him or his access to spirits.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And I should warn you: my father has a terrible temper. I don’t know what he looks like to you, but even the nastiest drunks in town fear him.”

  “He’s pretty unremarkable looking, to be honest. Tall, I suppose. Bit of a gut. Balding. Looks like a good push would send him spinning. Is he always drunk?”

  “My father’s been drunk for his entire adult life. I don’t think it affects him like other people. He’s manhandled men twice your size after downing three bottles of whiskey in an evening. Don’t upset him.”

  “Are you saying that because the only way I could upset him is by upsetting you? Which I have no intention of doing, by the way.”

  “I’m saying it for your benefit, you dunce.”

  “Do you mean to say that Elias ‘I don’t give a damn’ Burgess cares about me?” Augustus demanded. He tightened his hold on Elias’s shoulder.

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “So you don’t care?”

  “I’d miss you if something happened to you.”

  “You’d miss me?” Augustus gave a bark of laughter.

  “Shut up.”

  “If you’d miss me, surely you must care.”

  “You’ve come to visit almost every day for a month and a half. My days would be different without you now,” Elias snapped, feeling hot. He had not meant for the conversation to go in this direction. He had hoped he and Augustus might kiss a little, since they were given the opportunity to be alone together upstairs.

  “Would you be sad without me?” Augustus asked, brushing Elias’s neck.

  “Fuck, you ass.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “I don’t fucking know.”

  “Should I leave, so you can figure it out?” Augustus let him go, but Elias reached out and grabbed Augustus’s sleeve.

  “Stay!” Elias cried.

  “Ah,” Augustus said. “Gotten attached, have we?”

  “Astoundingly,” Elias muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “I’d rather you stayed,” Elias said, pulling Augustus closer.

  “Why?”

  “I want to kiss you.”

  “Is that all? There are plenty of other lips in Kitwick.”

  “But I like yours.”

  “I’m touched.”

  “You should be.”

  Elias tried to draw Augustus to him, but Augustus resisted.

  “Why do you like me, anyway?” Augustus asked. “Wait, we don’t know that you even do. Let me rephrase that: Why can you stand me?”

  Elias gave a snort of frustration, tossing his head.

  “I’m waiting,” Augustus said.

  Elias knew Augustus would wait forever for an answer.

  “Oh fuck, fine,” Elias said, sighing. Then he said something he had known since he first met Augustus, but had always kept to himself. “You treat me like how you treat everyone else.”

  Augustus gave another bark of laughter. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “See, that’s the thing. No one else does.”

  “Explain.”

  “I’m blind. Poor blind Elias. Poor blind Elias whose mother has been missing for fifteen years. Poor blind Elias whose lush father beats him. Poor blind Elias whose sister does everything for him, even shaves his chin so he doesn’t cut his own throat. Poor blind Elias who can’t hold a job, who’ll never be married, who’d be run over if he ever went to Town. Best keep him safe and locked up, like fine china, lest the real world be too much for his poor blind soul. I had to fight for my post boy job. No one thought I could do it. Everyone thought I belonged behind a bar in the dark and nowhere else.” He was shaking, his breath coming low and quick. This was why he had not wanted to talk about it because then things would get serious. Getting serious gave him a headache. “You’re the only person who didn’t give a fuck. You knew I was blind and you stole everything I had anyway. It was bloody cruel, mind you, but you did to me what you would do to anyone else. So in a twisted kind of way, I’m grateful to you for that.”

  The silence was oppressive.

  “Don’t just stand there now I’ve poured my heart out,” Elias said, his voice tremulous, his head pounding. “You bastard, the least you could do is—” He stopped talking when Augustus’s lips collided with his. It never occurred to him to say anything remotely sassy when Augustus took his face in his hands, parted his lips with his tongue, and kissed Elias like he had never been kissed before. He tasted of pear juice.

  Augustus backed him against a wall, took hold of Elias’s wrists, and pinned them to the wood above their heads. He pressed their chests together, then, as the kiss grew deeper, their hips. Elias drew a wavering breath; Augustus dragged his mouth to Elias’s ear, which he licked.

  “Where did you learn that?” Elias asked.

  “I asked one of the girls,” Augustus murmured, his breath tickling Elias’s neck. “You should really talk to them about more than Napoleon and Nelson. They’re a wealth of information.”

  “Did she show you how to do this?”

  “Don’t be vulgar. Girls are disgusting,” Augustus said. “I’ve got eyes only for you.”

  “Well I haven’t any eyes for you.”

  “You’ve got lips and a whip of a tongue, and that’s just as good.”

  They kissed again, Elias feeling weak at the knees as Augustus pushed a thigh between Elias’s legs. Elias felt a zooming sensation just deep to his navel, then a swell of excitement.

  “Augustus.”

  “Too much?”

  “I…I… This is…” Elias was flustered.

  Augustus apparently felt the reason for Elias’s embarrassment. “Oh.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did I do that?” He pressed a little harder. Elias gasped and gritted his teeth.

  “What do you think caused it, genius?”

  “I’d apologize, but it’s a good sign.”

  “I beg your pardon? Now I’m just frustrated.”

  Augustus took a step back and released him. Elias let his hands fall to his sides.

  “I could…I could, you know—if you told me what you wanted.” He sounded both excited and nervous.

  “What I want?”

  “Yes, how you like—”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “For release.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know.”

  “No.”

  “Come now.”

  “Nope.”

  “But what do you normally do?” Augustus asked, sounding exasperated.

  “I don’t normally have this problem!”

  “You grew up in a tavern, how can you be so—wait, what?”

  “I think if you go away, it’ll go down on its own. I’ll just think of Lord Nelson. The cat, not the man. It’s worked in the past.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ in a garter, is that what you normally do?”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  Augustus grabbed his arm, which did nothing to de-escalate the situation in Elias’s trousers. “Eli. Tell me the truth now. Have you honestly never done it to yourself?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Augustus. If you insist on being so secretive I will be forced to throttle you. Again.”

  “I’ve just never met anyone so…”

  Elias’s temper was reaching inferno levels. “So what, pray tell?”

  “Innocent.”

  “Innocent?”

  “Well, I suppose it makes sense. Bess wouldn’t know, and your father being as he is… But Jesus, did you never just…know? Become curious? Figure it out? Have a really good dream?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “All right. Fine. I guess you share a bedroom with Bess, after all. All right.” Augustus sounded like he was working himself up for something. “So. I’m going to explain to you what to do
. I want you to touch yourself. Figure out what gets you off. Do it a bunch of times over the next week. Make sure you collect it in a handkerchief or…or something. It makes a mess anyone can see. Do it at least once per day. Just try it out. You hear me?”

  Elias was sweating. “Collect what?”

  “Sit down,” Augustus said, leading Elias to the bed. “I’m going to talk you through masturbation.”

  Elias sat on the side of the bed, his feet flat on the floor. There was a scraping sound as Augustus dragged something heavy across the floorboards and set it in front of Elias. The object, which must be a chair, creaked as Augustus took a seat.

  “Undo your trousers,” Augustus said.

  “What?”

  “You can do this with me in the room, or I can just tell you what to do and you can take care of it when I leave. What do you want?”

  Elias considered. “I want you here.”

  “Then undo your trousers,” Augustus repeated, “and take out your…er…Captain Standish.”

  “Would you just call it a dick?” Elias asked, blushing furiously as he obeyed.

  “Dick. Yes. Fine.” Augustus sighed once Elias had freed his erection. “Good,” Augustus said. “Wow. You’re so hard already. Good. All right. Give me your right hand.”

  Elias extended his hand palm-down in front of him. Augustus tsked, seized it, turned it over, and spit into his palm.

  “Ugh!” Elias cried, jerking his hand from Augustus’s grasp. He made to wipe his palm on his trousers, but Augustus grabbed his wrist.

  “You want it wet, trust me,” Augustus murmured. “Now hold it.”

  “Hold it?”

  “Hold your dick. Like you’re holding a broom handle upright.”

  Augustus let him go, and Elias took hold of his dick. He had touched himself before, but never when he was hard, at least not intentionally. His heart thudded.

  “Now what?” Elias asked faintly.

  Augustus touched the back of Elias’s right hand and nudged it up, so Elias’s palm glided over his shaft. “Good,” Augustus whispered when Elias’s thumb reached the tip. “Now down.”

  Three strokes in, Elias knew exactly what his body needed. Augustus let him go. The chair across from Elias creaked as Augustus leaned back in it.