by Jack Parker
"I think we did alright," he said.
Kurt looked up at him and nodded. Then he got up and took his turn in the bathroom while Emery went to gather the rest of his crew. Georgie was the first to approach him. "Did you get anywhere?" she asked.
Emery nodded. "I think he's all but convinced. How was your date for the evening?"
Georgie held a hand to her mouth, looking a little ill. "Surprisingly charming. Bollocks, I've had more than I should."
"So have I." Emery looked around. "And Kurt's had at least enough to put him over the limit…Blast, who's going to drive?"
"I dunno. Where's Victor?"
He pointed across the way at Victor and Ludkov, who were downing yet another shot each. Georgie and Emery both grimaced.
She looked to him with an exasperated face as Kurt returned. "I'll phone Dave."
Dave showed up not long later, skittery and cautious as always as he stood waiting outside his car. Clearly he was shocked by the mostly drunken state of them and scrambled to open up his doors while everyone filed in. Emery was pushing Victor when the latter stopped just outside the car to sway, digging into his pocket. After a moment of fishing he held out a trinket to Dave. A blood-encrusted nose ring. Emery gawped. Dave's eyes were wide, numbly taking the souvenir as Victor patted him on the shoulder and slipped inside the car. Then his eyes shifted to Emery, who shrugged. "Reckon your inked up prick got his comeuppance."
Dave looked down at the grotesque trophy in awe.
Emery was extremely relieved once they all made it back to the flat. Dave jetted off immediately once dropping them there, terrified by Victor's loud, inebriated tirades regarding London traffic. It would have been a lot more convenient had someone pointed out that any of Ludkov's men could have taken him off their hands instead of bringing him here with them, but it was too taxing an oversight to correct now at nearly one in the morning. He didn't want to risk upsetting a drunken mobster with mysteriously bleeding knuckles anyway. Instead they all sat at the table while Emery made more coffee in the kitchen, Georgie standing at the head of the table to supervise them and watch with wonder as Victor yammered relentlessly. Emery came back with a mug for Kurt just in time to hear the commotion brewing.
"No, no, no, I—I had like three shots. Maybe four," Victor was stating loudly.
"You had eight," Ludkov corrected.
"Since when?" Victor demanded. Ludkov furrowed his brow at him and Victor shook his head. "I mean, no I didn't. You're prob'bly just seeing double after being punched in the fucking face."
Ludkov huffed and slumped back in his chair with a sneer. "I have had harder times recovering from kisses than I had recovering from that impudent little shluha."
Victor snorted with laughter and reached forward to grab a mug set before him. "No, but really, seriously, I'm fine. I'm fine. What's a shluha?"
"For fucking," Ludkov slurred nonsensically.
"What on earth possessed you two to get so utterly pissed?" Georgie demanded. "We're in the middle of a very important venture, you realize. This is quite literally life and death."
"It will be no trouble," Ludkov decided. "Because Hennessey is stupid. And Emery, this man…" Ludkov waved a finger out at him. "Is very smart man."
"Charmed," Emery replied with a slight smirk of amusement as he looked on at them.
"Stupid men kill smart men daily," Georgie quipped, shaking her head. "Aleksei, while I can appreciate how daunting this all must be for you, it is not the time to lose your wits."
"You do not speak to me this way. I am your superior," he replied, but it was completely listless.
"Hey Em, get me a beer, huh?" Victor requested.
"I think you'll be hungover enough as it is," Georgie warned.
Victor straightened up, laying his hands on the table. "Hey shut up, Faraday. You—you think you know everything just 'cause you've got a…cute little…British…ass."
Georgie glared down at him.
Victor shrank back. "Was that inappropriate?"
"Quite, Mr. Scott," she said.
Emery had to bite his tongue damned hard to hold back the laughter. Fuck, he shouldn't be laughing. This was serious. But they were all such an outrageous disaster at the moment.
"Sorry." Victor reached up and scrubbed his face vigorously with his hands. "I'm an asshole, I know. Can't keep my goddamn mind off of sex. It's just been so fffucking long since I got laid."
"What is laid?" Ludkov asked.
Victor didn't look at him, still grinding his palms into his eyes. "For fucking."
"Revisit your priorities, love," Georgie suggested before wandering off to get her own cup of coffee.
Victor continued obliviously. "The last chick I fucked was this fucking awesome Scottish woman…We fucked in the kitchen for hours. Shit. You know that's where I first had sex? Yup. Very first time. On a kitchen counter. With this high school girl who used to bully the shit out of me when we were in third grade."
Emery was shaking his head, snickering quietly until Kurt shifted where he was sitting nearby. Kurt always managed to retain such poise, and to his credit, Emery had absolutely no clue just how drunk he was until he suddenly decided to open his mouth. "My first sexual experience was getting tossed off in a shower."
Emery's back stiffened, eyes wide as he looked down at him.
Victor and Ludkov both erupted into hysterics. Victor was hacking uncontrollably, smacking the table and losing his balance before falling out of his chair to the floor where the howls of laughter continued. Ludkov looked down at him with a drunken grin. Kurt sat with narrowed eyes, seeming very confused as to why he was being laughed at.
"Oh, honey," Emery blurted, grabbing Kurt's head and pulling it into his stomach to shut him up before he could humiliate himself further.
Georgie had come out of the kitchen as soon as she heard the thud to stare with surprise at Victor on the floor. "We'll fit right in with Hennessey's men, I dare say. Look at the fools we've become."
"It's a start," Emery said, stroking Kurt's hair. "And hopefully a temporary state. Sorry about all this."
Georgie sighed and sipped her coffee. "All things considered we're lucky to have made it out alive. I suppose drunk is nearly as good as unscathed."
"But what on earth are we supposed to do now? He wants us to prove our claim and we haven't got the time and…I don't even know where to start."
"Well as much as I hate to pile on straws," Georgie said with a glum face, setting her mug down, "There's a more pressing matter at hand you've yet to see to."
"What do you mean?"
"Hunter Eaton," she reiterated. "You're still being looked for. The longer you wait to claim your inheritance the harder it will be. Questions will be asked. You've got to meet with his solicitor."
Emery looked away. "Can't that bloody wait? A fortune isn't going to do me much good dead."
"I don't know that I'd risk it. I imagine waiting for Hennessey to catch wind that it isn't actually yours yet won't do us any favors."
Emery frowned. How he hated the idea of claiming that money. He never thought that having riches forced upon you could be a bad thing, but the idea made his gut burn with shame. It made him think of that naïve fourteen year old boy he once was, staring up at Hunter with the blind trust of a child, promising him happily that he'd take over everything for him. In that moment he'd thought about how lucky he was to have a stepfather like Hunter who so obviously loved him. Now it just made him feel sick. But Georgie was right. The inheritance was a necessary tool in name.
"I'd like to vomit now," Kurt stated politely into his side.
Emery winced and looked over at the other two men before turning to Georgie again. "Will you be alright with them if I see this one off?"
"Probably not, but I'd rather he not do that at the table," Georgie said. "Go on."
"I'll be back," Emery assured. He pulled at Kurt, who stood dutifully and followed him to the flat's restroom.
Victor tipped his head back f
rom where he was laid out on the floor and pointed after them, barely able to get the words out from laughing. "If we h-hear the shower running, we're gonna know what's up, you fucking fags!"
Emery closed his eyes in embarrassment before ushering Kurt along to the bathroom. Once there Kurt entered without closing the door and efficiently projected an impressive gush of whiskey into the commode. Then he flushed and exited, looking down at Emery blearily.
"Apologies."
Emery frowned and smoothed out the shirt over Kurt's chest a bit. "Christ, I didn't realize how much you'd had. You certainly kept that twit's attention though. Drank him under the table."
Kurt leaned forward to thieve a very cuddly hug that nearly pushed them both over.
Emery choked on a laugh and tried in vain to pull away. He'd never seen Kurt drunk before—not when he himself wasn't already drunker. "Okay. I think you ought to lie down before you collapse."
Kurt pulled back from the embrace, trying to process this logic through his ruined brain before nodding. They made it into the bedroom and Kurt sat on the bed. Emery pulled the things out of his pockets for him and turned around to set them on the nightstand when Kurt's arms wrapped around his waist from behind and began pulling. "Let's make love."
Emery twisted awkwardly to look down at him. "Kurt, I love you beyond words, but I'm much too sore and you're much too drunk."
Kurt nudged Emery's backside with his face and harrumphed. "I'll just suck your cock. That's all I want."
Emery stumbled as he was forcibly turned, setting his hands on Kurt's shoulders to steady himself. "Not now. What you need right now is plenty of water and a couple of aspirin. Let me go and get it." He reached down to try and gently remove Kurt's hands from his belt.
"No. I'll never let you go again. Not for an instant." Kurt pushed up Emery's shirt and began to kiss his abdomen.
"Kurt, there are three other people in this flat right now and the walls are rather thin."
"I don't care."
"You will. Come on now, Georgie needs my help with the others."
The grip on the waist of his pants tightened. "But I need you here."
Emery again couldn't help but laugh. "Look at you; you're such a child when you're drunk."
Kurt smiled as if this were a compliment. Damn that handsome fucking face…He loved that smile so very much.
"Okay," Emery relented. "Suck my cock, then. But let's be quick about it. And quiet."
Kurt quickly undid his belt and unzipped him and a second later had him in his mouth and—oh. Well. That was better right now than he thought it would be. Emery bit his tongue and shuddered, rubbing the back of Kurt's neck. Why not? He'd get Kurt riled up and maybe burn some of the whiskey out of his system. He felt himself fully harden in one great rush of blood and sighed, the remaining alcohol in his own body coming back around to let him know that this was a fantastic idea. Still, letting Kurt do this in his current state felt a bit like taking advantage. After a moment Emery pushed him off, looking around discreetly before pushing him down onto the bed.
"What…?" Kurt tried to ask, but Emery held a finger to his lips.
"Shush. On your back." He then slid out of his pants and got down onto the bed above him, knees straddling his shoulders as he bent forward over Kurt's body and began to unzip his pants. Kurt gasped as Emery swallowed him down. Then he took his cue with a muffled groan and reached up to pull Emery's erection back down into his own mouth. This was a very naughty, compromising position, but Emery doubted the likelihood of anyone choosing to walk in on them. Plus he damn well couldn't help himself. He'd missed this. He'd missed the sort of risky sneaking around they used to do. He'd missed the feeling of a hard prick on his tongue, the feeling of a mouth around his own. He'd missed Kurt, so damned much, and would take every opportunity to prove it that presented itself.
Emery felt himself getting close as Kurt's free hands roamed on his body, massaging his legs, lightly squeezing whatever part of him that wasn't currently in his mouth. He was obviously trying hard to keep quiet but Emery could feel the vibrations of his pleasured groans in his cock. Kurt suddenly lifted a hand and lightly smacked Emery's behind, and the pain the spiked through him kicked him hard over the edge. He clenched his eyes shut and whimpered around Kurt's length, pulsating and quivering as he ejaculated down his lover's opened throat. A few more jets followed and Emery pulled off his task to bury his face into Kurt's thigh and struggle not to vocalize his feelings. He crumpled slightly when the intensity abated and Kurt's continued ministrations became slow and gentle. Emery shook it off and downed Kurt's cock hungrily again.
Kurt was doing a good job of keeping quiet, breathing hard and heavy as he pulled Emery from his mouth and continued to fondle him with his hand. Then his mouth went back to work kissing and licking the reddened skin of Emery's battered rear end. He could feel Kurt's tongue suddenly slide into him and fuck, that certainly was very soothing for the ache. Emery traced his fingertips over Kurt's stomach. He knew he'd be able to feel the right moment of tension, and sure enough it came a moment later, tight under the skin and he pushed the tip in his mouth down past his gag reflex to receive the fruits of his labor. Kurt's back arched hard and his breath became strained, but he held it together, soaking up the euphoric sensations in relative silence. Then he pulled a pillow up to his face and heaved a long groan of relief into it. Emery slowly pulled off, easing his leg over Kurt to sit on the bed beside him, rubbing his overworked jaw and feeling good. Kurt was still clutching the pillow to his face and breathing heavily. Emery smirked and pulled it away from him. "Better?" he asked.
"You're wonderful," Kurt murmured drunkenly.
"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."
Kurt was silent for a long while. "…M'sorry that I'm such a mess. You shouldn't have to…tend to me like this."
Emery stretched out a hand to stroke his naked stomach. "Hush now, you're alright. You're just fine."
"Will you lie with me?"
"I've got to see to the others. Just take it easy. Relax here." Emery crawled over Kurt and off of the bed, looking around tiredly for his shed clothes. He didn't know what they were going to do with the other two. It was sure to be a long night of trying to placate them until they either sobered up or passed out, and then at least one of them should stay awake for the sake of vigilance. Emery pulled on his pants and was zipping them up as he caught sight of his tossed jacket on the floor. He bent down to pick it up and lay it somewhere else when he saw the white paper corner sticking up from the inner pocket. Emery's lips parted and he quickly reached for it, drawing out the sealed envelope addressed to Kurt Gabler. The letter he lifted from Isaacs. Kurt's father. Who he'd met and held at gunpoint. How could he have forgotten about this?
Emery whipped around to see that Kurt was asleep behind him, breathing deep. In all of the insanity that had followed Kurt's return he hadn't even thought about that incident at all. What was he going to tell Kurt? He looked down at the letter, mailed from Munich by one Ilsa Gabler. That must've been Kurt's grandmother. Or mother. He'd never been given their names. The letter inside felt thick. Emery wondered what it could possibly have to say. He thought for a long moment about Kurt's childhood with a dismal sense of resentment. That poor little boy, living in a house with that cantankerous ass of a father and no one to comfort him or assure him of his worth. It must've been dreadful being a child and having no one to look out for you. No one with your best interest at heart. How could anyone who supposedly loved him have allowed this to happen? Emery bit his inner cheek and slowly tucked the letter away. He would have to give it to Kurt eventually. But now wasn't the time. Kurt was in a vulnerable enough state as it was with everything that had happened. One more push and he might snap.
Emery turned and went back to the bed, crouching down and studying Kurt's unconscious features. "I'll never let anyone take you away," he vowed quietly. "Not without tracking you down and dragging you back, and killing whatever bastard is responsible. The c
ruel bits of the world can no longer have you. You're mine now, and I'm going to protect you. Whatever the cost."
Kurt remained unresponsive and Emery stood up before carefully pulling a blanket over him and kissing the crown of his head. Then he crept back out into the living room to see the status of the other drunkards. Victor was still on the floor on his back, apparently telling some story, while Georgie tried to get Ludkov to stop drinking the beer he'd suddenly retrieved. Emery steeled himself and went back over.
"So I lied and told her I was married. And I dunno why, but she hit me. Like, hard. Em!" Victor said, looking up at him. "You were gone a while…"
"Kurt's drunk. I had to get him to bed."
"Haha, gross."
Emery snorted. "To sleep, you pervert."
Victor pointed up at him, scoffing loudly. "Then why do you have cum on your chin?"
Emery instantly looked down in horror, wiping emphatically at his face, only to find it utterly clean. He lidded his eyes as Victor again began to laugh riotously.
"I can't get him off the floor," Georgie noted in exasperation.
Emery bent down, grabbing one of Victor's arms and pulling hard. "Come on, mate. Let's get you to bed."
Victor limply hung his arm around Emery's neck as the latter began hoisting him up. "Why? So you can suck my dick too?"
"You only wish. I'm fully monogamous and I find you plug-ugly, you stupid blighter."
Victor blinked, scratching at his chest. "That's fair."
Emery successfully got him to his feet and looked to Georgie. "I'll get rid of him. But I don't know how to handle that one," he nodded to Ludkov.