by Merry Farmer
That was enough to jolt Patrick into action. With shaking hands, he unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged out of his suspenders. He was so vividly aware of Everett watching him undress that he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and barely managed to get his shoes off without falling over. He had forgotten to breathe by the time he made it to the fastenings of his trousers, and his head swam. The only way he was able to get his shirt off and even think of shucking his trousers was because Everett turned away for a moment to peel back the bedclothes on the bed farthest from the window.
As Patrick pushed his trousers and drawers down—without the slightest idea where he found the courage to do it—Everett slid onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. He sat with his hips open and his knees dropped to the side, which provided Patrick with a stunning view of his prick and balls, and more than a hint of his arsehole. The sight was so erotic that Patrick froze as his trousers dropped to his ankles and his cock jumped up.
“Fuck me,” Everett gasped, eyes going wide, as he gazed at Patrick’s sizeable cock. “If I’d’ve known that was waiting for me….” He didn’t finish his observation. Instead, he grabbed hold of himself, stroking from his balls to his tip.
A sweat broke out all over Patrick’s body. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the way Everett played with himself. It was erotic beyond any fantasy he’d indulged in about the man. His hand twitched for his own prick, but he forced his hand into a fist.
“Oh, no,” Everett said, deadly serious. “That’s exactly what I have in mind. We’re going to do this together, since you aren’t ready for anything more. You sit at that end.” He pointed to the foot of the bed. “We’re going to watch each other and enjoy ourselves. And believe me, neither of us are going to last long.”
He was dead right about that. The strange thing was, what Everett was asking didn’t feel like too much. Patrick stepped out of his trousers, kicking them to the side, and rushed to the foot of the bed. What they were doing was sheer madness, but it was also the most tender and endearing thing anyone had ever done for him.
There was no board at the foot of the bed, so Patrick was forced to lean back and brace himself with one hand while stroking himself with the other. He mirrored Everett’s position, sitting with his legs wide open and giving Everett a full view.
“Good God,” Everett hissed as he handled himself faster. “You’ve got the most amazing cock I’ve ever seen.”
Patrick sucked in a breath at the wild compliment. Or perhaps at the glorious pleasure that he gave himself. He spit on his hand so that he could rub harder, which elicited a groan of delight from Everett.
“I’d do the same,” Everett panted, “but I don’t think I’m going to last long enough for it to matter. Fuck.” He fondled the head of his penis before returning to stroking, his eyes boring in on the way Patrick slid his hand furiously up and down his length. “Fuck, I want you in my mouth. I want to suck you dry and then suck you some more.”
Visions of Everett doing just that mingled with the actual sight of the man’s body, sweaty and glowing, the tip of his cock shining with pre-cum, and his face contorted with pleasure.
“I want you in me,” Everett panted. “I want you so far up my arse, pounding me until I scream. I want your big cock filling me and stretching me until I—”
Patrick came apart with a deep groan, milky white erupting from him and spilling across his belly and hand. Everett hissed the most blasphemous curse Patrick had ever heard and jerked his hips as cum burst from him as well. Patrick’s eyes went wide at how powerfully he came and how far he shot. The mad thought that Everett could put someone’s eye out flashed through his mind, and Patrick dissolved into wild, loose laughter.
He let himself go and slumped back, barely able to brace himself on both elbows.
Everett sagged against the pillows, laughing as well. “Come here,” he panted, gesturing for Patrick to join him. “Tell me you’re not afraid of me now.”
A new energy pulsed through Patrick, and even though his body was limp and sated, his soul felt as though it could fly to the heavens and back. “I was never afraid of you,” he said, dragging himself to the other end of the bed and slipping between the sheets with Everett. His fear wasn’t entirely gone, but it felt good to tangle his overheated body with Everett’s. They were both too spent for the moment for Patrick to feel as though he were in any danger.
“What were you afraid of, then?” Everett asked, nestling against the pillows with him. “What are you still afraid of?”
Patrick shrugged, his eyes growing heavy. He couldn’t find a name for his fear, and with Everett’s arms closing around him, he didn’t care.
Everett didn’t press the issue. He let out a long, contented sigh, throwing one leg over Patrick’s thigh. A tiny voice at the back of Patrick’s mind warned him to pull away from Everett and climb into his own bed, but he didn’t have the energy to listen to it. Strangely enough, he didn’t have the slightest interest in listening to that voice for the first time in his life.
Chapter 9
Deep in the night, with the world quiet around them and the sound of soft waves on the beach just audible through the closed window, Patrick was awakened by a strangled cry. In an instant, he was fully alert, sitting bolt-upright and searching for a weapon. His racing heart pounded hard against his ribs as he realized first, that he wasn’t alone in bed, and second, that the terrified cry that had yanked him out of sleep came from Everett.
Everett writhed and kicked in his sleep, fighting against some unseen force and tangling himself in the bedclothes as he did. The bed was narrow enough that Everett kicked and battered Patrick while also attempting to cling to him. Everett’s eyes were tightly shut, but his face was pinched in panic.
“Everett.” Patrick twisted to his side, resting a hand on Everett’s shoulder and shaking him. “Everett, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
“No, no! Get off of me!” Everett gasped in his sleep. “No!” His cries turned pitiful, like those of a young boy.
Every detail of the past that Everett had shared in the last few days curled around Patrick, like vines intent on choking the life out of him. He could guess what nightmares lashed at Everett, and it killed him.
“Everett,” he repeated in as soothing a voice as he could manage, clamping an arm over Everett’s torso to hold him in place and praying for him to wake up.
“Let me go. I don’t want to.” Everett continued to writhe and gasp, though his strength was fading. “Don’t make me.”
“It’s only me, love,” Patrick whispered. He lay on his side, attempting to cradle Everett against him in spite of his struggles. He brushed Everett’s dark, tousled hair back from his face. “It’s only me. You’re safe, love. No one can hurt you here.”
Everett continued to make sounds that never formed into words. The fight went out of him, and he snuggled against Patrick’s body, curling as if he would close into a fetal position. That was impossible with Patrick’s bulk taking up half the bed, so Everett wrapped around him as though he were the only lifeboat in a stormy sea. He nestled his sweaty forehead into the pillow beside Patrick’s head. Within seconds, the tension drained from his body as his nightmare gave way to a deep sleep.
Patrick’s heart continued to race. It was too dark to see more than the outline of Everett’s face, but he stared at it all the same. The moment passed with lightning speed, but the fear it had provoked in Patrick lingered on. It felt like hours before he could get back to sleep.
When he woke again, bright sunlight streamed in through the windows, which had been opened. The bed beside him was empty. Everett was already up, washed, and dressed. He was busy at the far end of the room, laying out Patrick’s clothes and folding both of their things from the day before.
As soon as Patrick rolled over and propped himself on his elbows, Everett turned to him with a broad, carefree smile. “Awake at last,” he said, shaking out Patrick’s jacket from the day before. “
I hope you don’t mind, but I threw out those horrible fish and chips you had stashed away in your pocket. The smell of them turned my stomach and put me off my morning tea.”
Patrick jerked to sit, his jaw dropping open in protest. He only just managed to stop himself from complaining at the loss of perfectly good food. He could only hope Everett hadn’t found the bread and sausage in his usual pouch and thrown that out as well.
That concern was pushed out of his mind by the memory of the night before. Heat rushed through him for a moment as he recalled the intimacy they had shared and how good it had felt, but it was the memory of Everett’s nightmare that propelled him out of bed.
“Are you all right?” he asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing.
Everett abandoned his folding to rake Patrick’s naked body with a wickedly appreciative look. “You’re even more beautiful in the morning sunlight than you were last night,” he said, breathlessly.
Self-consciousness swirled through Patrick, and he glanced down at himself. He was already half erect from sleep, but if Everett didn’t stop looking at him the way he was, he’d be obscene in no time.
Everett tossed his jacket aside and strolled slowly toward him. “Are you certain you don’t want to forego searching for Adler to engage in a different sort of investigation?” he asked, one eyebrow raised rakishly. “I’m very good with my hands, you know, and even better with my mouth.”
Aching temptation filled Patrick. A large part of him wanted to let Everett drop to his knees and do whatever the hell he liked to him. But he recognized the salacious offer for what it was, a diversion.
“You had a nightmare last night,” he said, locking eyes with Everett.
Everett’s clever grin faltered, and the teasing in his eyes dimmed. “No, I didn’t.” He turned away, marching back to the bureau where he’d been organizing clothes.
Patrick narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. “You did. You might not remember it, but you did.”
“I never have nightmares,” Everett said, a little too fast. “I’m far too elegant for that.”
He was lying. Patrick could see it in the set of his shoulders and the tightness of his mouth. And as much of a fool as it made him, being lied to about something so intimate hurt.
“You had a nightmare,” he said with a frown, changing directions to head to the washstand for a quick scrub.
“What could I possibly have a nightmare about?” Everett asked with an unconvincing laugh, still facing away from Patrick. “My life is charmed. I’m the darling of Drury Lane. Everyone I meet either wants to be me or be with me.”
Patrick’s shoulders bunched with tension as he rubbed a wet washcloth over his body, wiping away whatever remained of the intimacies the two of them had share the night before. He couldn’t remove the ache in his heart, though. Everett knew damn well what the things they’d done last night meant to him, even though they hadn’t touched each other while doing it. He’d let Everett into a part of his life that absolutely no one had ever come close to before, and now the man was denying him the same honor. It made him feel as cheap as if he’d offered his arse for Everett to fuck without caring, then paid him and send him away.
“Everything is fine, darling,” Everett said in what Patrick assumed was meant to be a conciliatory voice as he brought Patrick’s drawers to him at the washstand. “You are lovely and beautiful, and I’m quite certain that, given time and care, we’ll be fucking like rabbits, and you’ll enjoy every minute of it without a shred of fear.”
He traced a hand down Patrick’s back to fondle his arse. Patrick tensed so hard he thought his bones might crack, both because the touch felt unbelievably good and because Everett was a rat bastard for suggesting that Patrick could shed his fears when he wouldn’t even deign to share his own. Was that all he was to the man after all? An amorous follower whose heart and soul he could crack open before tossing him aside to move on to the next challenge?
He jerked away from Everett, grabbing a towel from the washstand to dry himself off and snatching his drawers from Everett’s hand. He said nothing as he dressed and shaved. He could barely look at Everett, so deep was his heartache. Everett watched him for a while, desperation in his eyes, before giving up and moving to the unused bed. He mussed the sheets to make it look as though the bed had been slept in when really, that was a lie. Patrick’s heart sank as he watched, wondering how much of Everett was a lie and how much wasn’t.
He was utterly out of his depth. And that wasn’t a position Everett was used to being in. There were certain things he believed steadfastly about himself—that he was strong, inside and out, that he had left his past behind, that he was no longer a victim, and that he didn’t need anyone or anything to prop him up in life.
All of those beliefs had been systematically shattered in just a few days by a quiet, damaged policeman who believed no one cared about him.
The trouble was, Everett did care about him. He cared about Patrick Wrexham more than he’d ever cared for anyone in his life. Getting off with the man the night before had been a thousand times more intimate than the most invasive, tangled sexual encounters he’d had in the past. Waking from one of his interminable nightmares to find himself in Patrick’s arms had been like being wrenched out of hell and into the embrace of an angel. But he couldn’t confess to it. He couldn’t let the man who had captured his imagination and his heart know how pitiful he truly was, couldn’t let him know that the reason he hated sleeping alone was not for the pleasure of it, but to keep the nightmares at bay. He couldn’t go on living if Patrick stopped adoring him.
“We’ll find Adler today, I’m certain of it,” he said with pretend bravado as they paid their fee and entered the carnival for the second day.
Patrick nodded, grunted, and fell into step behind him. Whether the movement was intended to be subservient or a way to punish him for behaving like such an arse that morning, Everett bristled. He adjusted his pace so that Patrick was forced to walk beside him instead of trailing behind like a puppy. Or rather, like a lean and powerful mastiff with a cock that sent shivers through him every time he thought about it. Which was almost constantly since….
He let his thoughts drop listlessly. Now he was lying to himself. As beautiful and awe-inspiring as Patrick’s body, including his cock, was, that wasn’t where Everett’s thoughts kept returning. What he truly couldn’t get out of his head was the way Patrick had smiled and laughed the day before. He couldn’t forget the blissful ache in his chest when Patrick winked at him after mastering the test-your-strength game. God help him, he’d started calling him “Patrick” in his thoughts instead of the infinitely less personal “Wrexham”.
He was besotted. After only a few days in the man’s company. And not for carnal reasons. Well, not exclusively carnal reasons. The magnetic attraction he felt for Patrick was a thousand times more dangerous than Adler, or any of the impossibly high-born men who were responsible for the child trafficking ring.
They’d traversed half the carnival, Everett glancing over at Patrick every few minutes, neither speaking a word, before Everett couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Are you bound and contracted to be a police officer for your whole life?” he asked as they turned a corner and started down a row of tents that held everything from fortune-tellers to freak shows.
Patrick peeked sideways at him, his handsome face set in a frown. “It’s my employment,” he said.
“For the time being.” Everett shrugged. “If you had an offer for other employment, could you take it?”
“I have no other offers of employment,” Patrick said, scanning the area rather than meeting Everett’s eyes.
“But if you did,” Everett pushed on, pretending to search the carnival as well. “Could you walk away from Scotland Yard without so much as a by your leave?”
“I would have to give notice,” Patrick said. Something near one of the tents caught his eye. He craned his neck as they passed before giving
up and searching forward once more.
“So if, for example—and this is merely an example—if a highly sought-after performer who is constantly being hounded by the public decided he needed a bodyguard to keep him out of harm’s way, could you leave your position with the Metropolitan Police for that sort of private employment?”
Patrick jerked his head toward Everett, eyes wide and cheeks pink.
Just as Everett was convinced he would answer, Patrick’s gaze slid right past him. He hardened his jaw, then cut in front of Everett, marching toward something.
“Is that him?” Patrick asked.
Everett turned, so caught up on tenterhooks from his question that it felt like the effort would snap every bone in his body. That brittleness turned to terror, as though he’d been struck across the face, when he spotted Adler peering out from around the corner of a red and yellow striped tent. Vile hatred welled up within him.
“That’s him,” he seethed, and launched into action.
He was fast, but Adler was faster. Adler spotted Everett and Patrick pushing their way through the carnival-goers and rushing toward him. His face registered a split-second of surprise before he turned tail and ran.
“I’m not letting him get away,” Everett snapped as he and Patrick broke into a run.
Winding through the crowded rows of men, women, and children enjoying themselves at the carnival was challenging enough, but as they ducked between two tents in pursuit of Adler, Everett and Patrick had to contend with tent pegs and ropes, piles of supplies and tools for the games and food stalls, and people and animals of every kind, none of which took kindly to three men sprinting into their private realms.
Adler knew where he was going and moved with far more certainty than Everett and Patrick. He kept well ahead of them, jumping crates and darting suddenly around corners, attempting to lose them in the maze of the inner world of the carnival. Everett kept up as best he could, but it was Patrick who kept them on track and within sight of Adler. He leapt the same crates Adler did with amazing speed and agility. As effective as Everett was at parting a crowd of admirers, Patrick proved that he had a knack for forcing bystanders out of the way with nothing more than a glance when he was in pursuit of a criminal suspect. The man might have blended into the woodwork the vast majority of the time, but when it came to a police pursuit, he shone brighter than anyone Everett had ever shared the stage with.
