The Earl and the Executive

by Kai Butler

  “Yes,” Tiral ground out. “More.”

  Shaking his head with a soft laugh, Zev pressed two fingers into him, adding more gel before sliding a third in. “I’m the tutor, remember? We should go at my pace.”

  “More,” Tiral commanded. Zev complied, enjoying the slide of his fingers and the tight clench of Tiral around him.

  Tiral groaned and leaned forward again, his breath hot on Zev’s face. “I’m ready.”

  “Are you sure?” Zev asked. Tiral would feel the stretch. He wanted to take more time, but he felt the urgency as well. They’d waited too long for this.

  Pulling out his fingers, Zev let Tiral’s leg drop and pushed his own shorts off. Smearing more gel into his palm, he stroked it over himself. Biting down on his lip, he focused on not emptying himself immediately. Tiral, splayed before him was too pornographic, too much.

  “Alright,” Zev said, as much to himself as Tiral. He hitched both of Tiral’s legs over his shoulders and slowly pushed himself inside. It was tight and Tiral hissed in response.

  Zev slowed, panting, waiting for Tiral to relax. He stroked his fingers across Tiral’s cheek.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured.

  Tiral’s eyes opened and the look he gave Zev was filled with such affection and love that it undid him. He leaned forward and kissed Tiral again, pressing every desperate feeling into it.

  Bottoming out, he stopped and waited until Tiral gave a little helpless shove with his hips. He didn’t have enough leverage and couldn’t seem to make a sentence to explain what he needed. Zev took mercy.

  He pulled back and then surged forward again, the sensation almost more than he could handle. Shrugging off his own need, he reached between them and began stroking Tiral. He was surprised to find him still just as hard. When Zev touched him, he keened and spilled, hot and sticky, between them.

  Zev paused, hips trembling as he felt Tiral tighten around him, the other man’s eyes screwed shut. When Tiral had finished shuddering, he lay panting.

  “Do you want me to pull out?” Zev asked, the words drawn from an unknown place of strength.

  Opening his eyes, Tiral bucked his hips again. “Finish,” he said. "Finish in me."

  Zev didn’t wait to be told twice. He shuddered forward, and fucked Tiral until he was coming, his hands tight on the bedding, mouth open against Tiral’s neck.

  After the orgasm passed, he felt Tiral’s fingers in his hair, stroking fondly. He pulled out, and carefully lowered Tiral’s legs, rubbing apologetically at Tiral’s hips.

  Smiling, Tiral gathered Zev to him, arms tight. He pressed a kiss into Zev’s hair, and accepted his full weight without complaint.

  It undid him, the openness with which Tiral engaged him. His whole string of lovers had never once treated him as anything more than companionable entertainment. Tiral treated him as though he knew everything about him and loved him because of it.

  The comparison brought him up short, because Tiral didn’t know the whole of it. Wetting his lips, he said, “There are things I promised to tell you.”

  “An explanation,” Tiral agreed. “One you promised would explain why this is all we’ll ever have.”

  Nodding, Zev cleared his throat. He leaned back, propping himself on the generous pillows that littered his bed.

  Tiral waited, his breath steady, even as his heart beat hopefully. He turned on his side, his body a parenthesis next to the rigid line of Zev’s. Zev glanced at him and the expression on his face made the warmth from the bed turn icy.

  “I’d come to Lus to marry. For love, I foolishly hoped, but also for some advantage to the company. An alliance with a family of more power, or even equal, would have been a boon in those early days. I had money and that was enough to get me invited to some places. And from there, well, I never flew as high as I do now. It was ton, but barely. There was a party where I met her. She looked uncomfortable — I thought because the host kept making overtures that made her awkward.” He snorted. “Later I would realize it was because it was not at all the company she’d expected. I believe it was a cousin of hers who’d invited her and she only realized upon arriving that it was all climbers and the nouveau riche.”

  Zev turned and the smile on his face was wry; he shook his head and laughed a bit. “I thought I was special, you see. I didn’t know what kind of people the true ton were. We talked a bit and she let me call on her. I courted her, all very privately, of course. We didn’t attend any of the same assemblies. From that alone, I should have been able to draw the right conclusion, but I was young and stupid and thought myself very much in love.

  “She agreed to run away with me. To the Green. She claimed her parents wouldn’t approve of the match, so we had to do it in secret. An elopement. I thought it all very romantic. When we arrived, there were people inside. She said she’d invited some friends.”

  Zev looked at him. “Your brother was among them.”

  Tiral shook his head, a pit in his stomach forming. He had some idea of where this was going, and he knew that it was not that his brother had been kind to a young, upstart merchant who thought he had the right to marry one of Lecc’s friends.

  “The others aren’t worth naming. Suffice to say, many have had their bankrupt estates purchased by the Laft Group, or a subsidiary of ours. They made me ‘wed’ a pig, of course. For their amusement. They were all quite in their cups by the time we got there and it was all done ‘for a laugh.’ I couldn’t leave, that would be admitting that I had not been part of the joke. That would mean that I had been humiliated on the day I thought I was getting my dearest dream fulfilled.”

  Zev’s lips twitched in a smile. “And it did refocus me. I think that without it, if I had been distracted by some agreeable spouse, someone who I wanted to go home to at the end of a long day’s work… well, I doubt the Group would be what it is today. I suppose I can thank their cruelty for my own success.”

  “Zev,” Tiral breathed, aware that his face felt both hot and cold. He had the urge to cry, but knew somehow that would make Zev feel worse.

  “So I returned to work, and by the time I decided it was time to come back to Lus, it was as though I’d never been here. I'd been forgotten that easily. My own personal hell was nothing more than a weekend amusement for them.”

  “How —” Tiral wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask, but it felt awkward to ask anything after so intimate a story.

  “How did I become what you see today?” Zev asked. “Well, I had some invitations and passes acquired through the greasing of palms and no one knew me. A rather pleasant widow took me on my first year and I think her assumptions were heard and agreed on by the rest of the ton. I was no longer a social climber, I was a seasonal diversion. Not good enough to marry, but good enough to invite everywhere.”

  “Why even come back? Surely if you still wanted marriage, anyone would have come to you?” Tiral asked.

  “I had wanted to prove to them that I was stronger than what they’d done to me. That I was worth more than them and looked down on them.” Zev laughed. “But they didn’t even remember me. That was far crueler than I could have ever been. So instead I merely decided to enjoy myself. It’s a vacation after a long year of work.”

  “So you cannot marry because of what they did?” Tiral asked. It made every sort of sense. Zev was not a man who would take such an experience lightly.

  He was known in his business dealings for never making the same mistake twice. It was how the Laft Group had managed to come out ahead in aeromech design. While everyone else had doubled down on older technologies, Laft Aero had taken the failures of the tech and gone in a new, more profitable direction.

  “I cannot,” Zev whispered. He stared at Tiral with such longing that Tiral swore he could feel the hand Zev wanted to put on his face. “Every time I think on marriage, I remember only humiliation and unhappiness.”

  “I cannot force you, then,” Tiral said gently. “I love you and that will have to be enough.”


  Zev moved closer and then his hand was on Tiral’s face. He brushed a finger along Tiral’s cheekbone, his eyes searching. “Will it be enough? You want someone who can stand with you and promise you things that I cannot.”

  “I do,” Tiral agreed. “But I think I could want you more than that. I think that I could love you more.”

  Zev looked at him in wonder. “I can promise you whatever you want. I love you. It feels as though I have spent my whole life waiting for you. “

  Tiral nodded. His hard-won desires for marriage and security dropped away. He would have Zev, he would have his own career, and that would have to be enough. What use was a ring if the man who put it there hated the sight of it?

  “Tiral, you amaze me,” Zev whispered. He drew close, his breath hot against Tiral’s cheek, and pressed a kiss against Tiral’s skin. Shivering with desire, Tiral reached up to brush his fingertips along Zev’s hair.

  “I love you,” Tiral said again and watched Zev’s eyes close as though he couldn’t bear to look at Tiral.

  “I am so sorry,” Zev said. “Sorry that I ever made you feel less than you are. You are amazing. A blessing. I thought my heart closed and you alone opened it again. You, Tiral.”

  Tiral’s fingers traced along Zev’s jaw, mapping the planes of his face with his eyes. He wanted to memorize this Zev, the one who was vulnerable and open and who loved him like the whole world had stopped.

  “I thought you deserved someone who would marry you and give you the money —” Zev said.

  “Damn the money,” Tiral interrupted. “Damn the estate and the title. I’ve been unhappy for every moment I’ve had it. Except for when I was with you.”

  “I thought you deserved someone who could give you what you wanted,” Zev continued. “The money, security, the safety of your land and your people. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be that for you.”

  “I want you,” Tiral said, his fingers restlessly tracing down the column of Zev’s neck to gently rest on his collarbone. “Tell me.”

  “I want you,” Zev said. “I love you. I’m sorry. You deserved so much better than I treated you.”

  “No,” Tiral breathed.

  “You did,” Zev insisted. “But I promise, I’ll make you happy from now on. I will make you so happy.”

  Tiral smiled and tugged Zev to him for a hard, open-mouthed kiss. He wanted so much and knew that even if Zev could only give him part of it, it would be enough. They were in love. Zev loved him. His heart wavered towards bursting and breaking and he didn’t know what to feel other than amazement that they hadn't died yesterday before he had known such happiness.

  There was a soft chime at the door and Zev drew away with an unhappy groan. Making sure that they were both covered, he called out, “Yes?”

  The door slid silently open, and Ovi stepped in, dressed as immaculately as she had been when she'd greeted them after they'd been taken back to the ship. It must have been well over a day, yet she still looked ready to serve Her Imperial Majesty tea.

  “Sir, Lord Gret,” she greeted them both. “Captain Maston wants to question you again, and I told him that you would be available after breakfast.”

  “Thank you, Ovi,” Zev said, dismissing her.

  She looked at Tiral and said, “Lord Gret's family has also been contacted about his detainment and is demanding to see him.”

  “Will a call do?” Tiral asked unhappily.

  “I'm not sure, my lord,” Ovi said. “I can send a flyer to get them.”

  “That can be discussed after the police have explained what more information we can possibly provide, given that our interactions with Ollir were limited to our endangerment and near death.” Zev pulled back the covers and stood, his eyes narrowing on Ovi’s. They stared at each other for a moment, neither willing to back down. Tiral waited, curious to see which one would give in first.

  He took a moment to admire Zev’s naked form, heat simmering across his cheekbones. He knew it was untoward, and that he should be scandalized, but somehow he was only able to admire his body, as though Zev were a statue recovered from some ancient civilization. Every plane on him looked carved from pale stone, planned by some brilliant artist to best show the male form.

  Ovi gave an appropriate bow and said, “Sir.”

  She primly closed the door behind her, and Zev turned to face Tiral. “I thought she might never leave.”

  “Well, now she has. We don’t dare…” Tiral let his sentence trail off, his eyes tracing the muscled lines of Zev’s body. His clothes did a good job of hinting at his physique but it was an entirely different and better thing to see it under the cool ship lights, where everything was lit and visible.

  Making a face, Zev sighed. “We don’t. She’ll be back in here in ten minutes if we dawdle and then we’ll both be forced to dress in front of her, like schoolboys in front of their mother.”

  “I’ll have you know I haven’t dressed in front of my mother since I was out of diapers,” Tiral said. “Of course, perhaps I was simply a more attentive student than you.”

  “Or perhaps your mother knew you were more scared of your nanny than her?” Zev guessed.

  Nodding at the point, Tiral got out of bed and crossed to the closet. He was surprised to see a few outfits that were in his size. Ovi had informed them that the staff had been left on Lus, much to the consternation of Zev’s valet, apparently.

  “I believe I’m not so rich that I’ve forgotten how to clothe myself,” Zev murmured, his breath hot on Tiral’s neck.

  “You said we don’t have time,” Tiral said, turning to wrap his arms around Zev’s neck.

  “I said we don’t have more than ten minutes to dress, which if we can dress in five, leaves us five to do —” He was interrupted by a firm knock on the door. Groaning, Zev said, “If she’s bugged this room, then we’ll be having a very serious conversation.”

  Zev began pulling on undergarments and pants, a shirt got yanked over his head. Tiral followed suit, although he was more careful with his clothes. He wasn’t sure how Ovi seemed to know what was his, but he appreciated the trouble she’d gone to in order to make their detainment agreeable.

  By the time they were finished, the ten minutes were nearly up and Ovi was standing back in their room, surveying their handiwork. Her eyes were critical and she raised an eyebrow when she saw Zev’s shirt. He glanced down and Tiral saw him begin fumbling with a button he’d missed.

  She nodded and bowed them out of the room, like a capable butler instead of a secretary. Zev led the way, familiar with the ship, and he opened another sliding door into a dining room, set with every sort of breakfast food one could imagine.

  “I thought the staff had been left on Lus?” Tiral asked, confused.

  “There’s a minimal staff we keep on the ship at all times,” Zev said. “A cook is a necessity, and I can’t expect mine to travel with us.”

  Grabbing a plate, Tiral filled it with food from the sideboard, aware of his own hunger only after the scent of grilled bacon hit him. He consumed the entire plate and had already returned for seconds when the door opened again and Maston entered.

  “Ah, good, you’re here.” The captain gave a nod, which Zev returned graciously. The captain was still staring at Tiral and color rose in Tiral’s cheeks as he realized what he must look like, shoveling in food like a scavenger.

  “Captain Maston, I was told we had a reprieve until we’d managed to have breakfast,” Zev said pointedly.

  Ignoring the jab, Maston took his own plate and filled it with some of the fruit that had been decoratively cut. He sat next to Tiral at the table and said, “Irid passion fruit! Quite delicious, haven’t had any since I was pulled off the rim.”

  “You had more questions?” Tiral asked, slowing his consumption of the breakfast quiche to a more reasonable rate.

  “Yes, my lord,” Maston said. “Did your brother sign away any part of the estate to Ollir?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Tiral said. “But my man
is still untangling most of what was done while Lecc was in charge.”

  “We have some evidence that he might have taken an interest in some of the estate in exchange for your brother’s participation in the fake station. I’m told you’re in the process of arranging a sale of the estate,” Maston glanced at Tiral, a red fruit speared on his fork.

  “Yes,” Tiral said, amazed at how steady his voice sounded. He nodded. “We hope to have it finalized within the next two months.”

  “Unfortunately, we’re going to need you to stop any plans you have to that effect,” Maston said.

  “What?” Tiral breathed, the exhalation sharp and shocked.

  “Your estate is considered evidence until we’re able to determine whether or not Ollir had his hand in it at all. Even if he didn’t, there’s always the chance that he left a clue there or planted evidence. We’ll need time to thoroughly investigate. Likely six months to a year, as I know we’ll find more crimes in discovery.”

  “You can’t do that,” Tiral said, his whole body cold. “We simply don’t have the funds —”

  “I already have. As of a half hour ago, the whole estate has been frozen by the crown,” Maston said.

  “But the debt… we’ll run out of money. I’ll be put in the Tangier.” Tiral knew he was going pale, and he could feel his head beginning to spin.

  “Tiral —” Zev started, but Tiral shook his head. This was something he needed to handle on his own. He couldn’t drag a lover into this. He’d promised Zev he wouldn’t tie him down and he intended to honor that.

  “I need to go see to some things. If we need to keep the estate somewhat solvent —” He broke off. Nodding at the captain, he said, “I’m sure you can find me. If we’re not on Lus, you’ll find me on Gret, trying to keep ahead of my creditors.”

  He left the room, aware of how he must have seemed. Biting his lip, he looked left and right, unsure how to get to the flyer bay. Luckily the door opened again, and he found Ovi at his side.

  “This way, Lord Gret,” she said. “I can arrange a pilot if you don’t feel that you can drive yourself.”