Phantasmagoria

by Madelynne Ellis

  Vaughan left his guests and went up to the solar. He couldn’t hide behind a mask of indifference. His rage burned like a bloody haze. He’d waited too long for this moment. The moment when he’d entwine Lucerne in his arms again, feel his hard body against his, his kisses killing him. Ever since he’d left London, he’d longed, pined for him, and now … All that mattered to Lucerne was Bella.

  Women! He grabbed the poker and jabbed it into the coals. Three years he’d tried to ignore the fact, but he couldn’t any longer. Lucerne preferred women. He would always be second best, to Bella, to whichever belle fluttered her eyelashes in Lucerne’s direction. But he couldn’t be second best any longer. The arrangement had to change. He wanted someone who loved him exclusively, with the same intensity he felt for them.

  ‘Lucerne,’ he breathed into the darkness. ‘It can’t be this way any more.’

  ‘Vaughan.’

  Lucerne entered the solar to find his lover staring resolutely into the flames. He’d been in this room before, years ago, before London, before the time in Rome. It had been the dowager’s domain in those days – Vaughan’s grandmother. Her old bones parked before the fire, her beauty withered, but her hair coiffed and powdered and her décolletage just as low as it had been in her youth. He smiled at the memory of her, wrinkled, powdery, and smelling of ginger and sherry, a feeble guard for two determined young rakehells. They’d sneaked out of the castle, scaled the walls and crossed the moat on an improvised punt made from an old door and a clothes prop, then abducted two local beauties and taken them to the Craven Arms Inn for the night. All he really remembered was a sea of linen and entwined limbs, as the four of them shared the same flea-bitten bed.

  Had Vaughan’s palms brushed the backs of his thighs that night, he wondered, as they’d lain alongside one another smothered in female flesh. Had he thought of leaning over and claiming the night as their own? Even then he’d been courting scandal. That was the reason he’d been summoned back to Pennerley and the watchful eye of the dowager.

  Shortly after that, the 5th Marquis of Pennerley had passed away and Vaughan had taken off for the Continent.

  Lucerne sighed, his smile fading along with the memories of their youth. Sometimes, he wondered just how much easier life would have been if they’d simply remained friends who shared lovers, but not each other.

  ‘Vaughan.’ Not sure what else to say, he hung back for a moment, then cautiously placed his hand upon Vaughan’s shoulder.

  Lucerne felt the shiver roll down Vaughan’s back and curled his fingers into the muscle. He’d never envisaged this as an easy meeting. He knew too well how vengeful and emotional Vaughan could be. The slightest thing might set him laughing or tumble him into the foulest pit of despair. He didn’t dare attempt a caress but without some form of prompt they might be staring into the flames until only cold ashes remained.

  Frustrated, Lucerne rubbed his jaw. Why was it always necessary to go through this drama, this torture? All they ever needed to do was say what they actually meant to one another.

  ‘Are you forgiven?’ Vaughan eventually asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  Yet more dancing. Lucerne sighed. ‘I don’t know. We didn’t really speak of it.’ Taking a risk, he edged his fingers under the collar of Vaughan’s shirt. Despite what he’d told Bella back in London, he did miss Vaughan’s touch. The man could make him come so hard he thought the top of his head would fly off. Besides, life was just plain more interesting with him around … It was just the agony that went with it.

  Vaughan raised both hands and shrugged him off. ‘Then what, pray, did you speak of that was so damn urgent?’ Finally, he turned his head, revealing a carefully constructed mask of indifference, emotions and desires locked away behind a front of conceit and arrogance. But Lucerne had learned to read him long ago. Those eyes, you could fall into Vaughan’s eyes and get lost for days. Every slight, every moment of pain and every fragment of bliss was writ there. Jealousy flicked across their shiny surface. Blind panic troubled their depths.

  ‘Louisa’s dead,’ Lucerne said frankly. He hadn’t wanted to break that particular piece of news just yet; there were issues enough to address without muddying things further but the situation demanded an explanation.

  A sliver of sadness melted into Vaughan’s gaze, brightening their liquid intensity. ‘I see,’ he said, voice chipped and brittle. He paced to the window overlooking the moat. ‘Stupid bastard should never have taken her to India. She was far too delicate to be a soldier’s wife.’

  Lucerne followed him. ‘What would you have him do, Vaughan? Give up his commission?’

  ‘There was no need for them to go. Louisa brought plenty of money to the marriage. Accept it, Lucerne. The man liked playing soldiers and his fixation has cost him his wife.’

  Lucerne felt his head throb. Not this argument, not again. ‘Not now,’ he growled. His two friends had never got along but now was not the time for criticism and blame or for rehashing old slights. A wave of grief washed over him. Lucerne bowed his head. The sorrow wasn’t all for Louisa; at least some of it was for himself and the jumbled mess his life had become. ‘You made your peace with him before they left. Let’s not reopen old wounds.’

  Vaughan shook his head. ‘I made my peace with Louisa. I tolerated him for her sake and for yours. Otherwise …’ He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. The rest remained unsaid.

  Lucerne opened his mouth, then changed his mind and let the words of Wakefield’s defence wash away too. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t speak of it any more,’ he said diplomatically.

  ‘Perhaps not.’ Vaughan twisted the rings on his fingers until the stones lay straight. ‘What do you suggest instead? Miss St John’s charms, perhaps?’

  ‘Georgiana’s announced her engagement.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘To Sir Nathaniel Glenbervie.’

  Vaughan sneered. ‘To that rancid macaroni! Clearly, your prowess as a lover is under dispute if you can lose out to him.’

  Lucerne felt his temperature rise. He was not by nature quick to anger but he’d taken quite enough stick recently and he wasn’t going to take any more. ‘You’re pleased she’s gone, so don’t mock.’

  ‘I never doubted she’d leave. I told you all long that she wouldn’t wait as patiently as Bella.’

  That was it. Lucerne smashed his fist into the back of a nearby chair. The impact smarted, made his knuckles throb. The chair faired somewhat better. It merely skittered over the polished boards and banged against the oak panelling. ‘We both know the only reason I haven’t married Bella is because you wouldn’t have it!’

  There were times over the last few years when he had thought to hell with Vaughan and been on the very verge of a proposal, but always something had stopped him. During that whole time, he’d been constantly riled by interfering matrons, his peers and her brother over his intentions. Goddamn Joshua! But he could hardly blame the man.

  Vaughan calmly rubbed his finger over the new dent in the wainscotting. ‘I left London three weeks ago, Lucerne. How much time do you need? You could have married by special licence within the week.’

  ‘You’d never have spoken to either of us again.’

  Vaughan shrugged. ‘We all face difficult choices.’

  ‘That was a choice you know I’m not prepared to make. Besides,’ he whipped about, causing his coat-tails to flap, ‘she’d have refused me. She lost interest in me the moment you left the house. All she cared about was how quickly she could get you back between her thighs.’ He pushed his hands through his hair and clenched his fist, but the discomfort didn’t help. ‘Oh, but she never gets you between her thighs. I know about the times at Lauwine, but that was before you cared, wasn’t it, Vaughan?’

  He slapped Vaughan’s hands away from the wood and grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘You never gave a thought to the countless other women you’ve risked getting with child. But you couldn’t be quite so heartless on her account. Couldn’t risk father
ing a bastard.’

  Vaughan shifted uncomfortably beneath the vice-like grip. ‘Let go, Lucerne,’ he growled. ‘ She was yours.’

  Lucerne snorted in disgust but held on. ‘She stopped being mine a long time ago.’

  ‘Then why the hell is she still lying between us?’

  ‘I’m not the one who invited her.’

  ‘But you are the one who claims he needs a woman for satisfaction, despite the fact I can make you come with just my little finger.’

  Rage almost blinding him, Lucerne shoved him away. He found the brandy decanter and poured himself a large glass which he knocked back. The second burned on his tongue before he swallowed.

  Vaughan’s eyes glittered as he watched Lucerne, hatred, passion and terror, all there in his gaze. He drew his long hair back into a ponytail then let the dark strands fall slowly through his splayed fingers. Then he raised his other hand and mockingly wiggled his little finger.

  The glass shattered against the hearthstone.

  Lucerne pounced. ‘Damn you!’ he growled as he forced his mouth down over Vaughan’s. He slid one hand up Vaughan’s back and into his hairline as he ground their hips together. He’d make this simple.

  Vaughan snarled as he kissed him but his lips were curiously immobile. Lucerne squeezed his arse and felt a kick of excitement as he felt Vaughan’s cock jerk in response. But he was still resisting. ‘Kiss me, damn you.’ Riled and aroused, he cupped Vaughan’s jaw and forced him to make eye contact again. ‘You left so I’d chase. Well, I’m here now. This is what you want, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not like this,’ Vaughan hissed between clenched teeth. ‘I can’t be forever second best. I don’t want to share you. I don’t want to fuck you for Bella’s pleasure.’ His fingers bit hard into the arm of Lucerne’s coat. ‘I want it to be just us. I’ve tried your way.’ He took a deep breath, and released it with shudder. ‘I convinced myself that if we just left London, it would somehow be fine. Without the distractions and the pressure, if it were just her again …’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, just because I spoke to her first. Her best friend is dead, Vaughan.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Vaughan yelled back. His eyes were liquid and bright. Painfully open. Emotions he normally kept hidden were painted with unnerving clarity in the violet depths. Lucerne refused to look into them, resorted, instead, to a third glass of brandy.

  ‘I can see the truth, Lucerne. You didn’t want to come. You did it out of necessity, nothing else.’ He drew his teeth over his lower lip, shaking his head. ‘I love you. I wish to God I didn’t, but I can’t do it if I have to share you any more. That time is past.’

  It was true, Lucerne acknowledged. He hadn’t wanted to come. He’d told Bella as much. He’d intended to stay away until the New Year or later. ‘I just needed some time alone,’ he said. ‘I’m exhausted. You pass me between you, pin me down, tie me up. It’s not even for my pleasure any more. It’s a game of one-upmanship between you. You’re both so busy fighting, you forget I’m there. Is it any wonder I seek comfort elsewhere?’ He put the glass down before the urge to shatter it as well became too strong. ‘Not that you’ve any right to lecture me on faithfulness. How many times have you shafted de Maresi recently?’

  ‘Not half as many as you’d like to think.’

  ‘And Bella?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Just can’t keep your hands off her, can you?’ Their rapid breaths seemed to bruise the air between them as he let his words sink in.

  ‘Make your choice, Lucerne.’

  ‘The choice has already been made for me.’

  Vaughan bit his thumbnail. ‘ She’ll leave with you.’

  Lucerne forced a laugh. ‘You think so. You really think so. Have you taken in a damn thing I’ve said? She’s in love with you, Vaughan, and we both know it. Lord knows it’s probably for the best. You’re far better suited.’

  ‘You’re being absurd.’

  ‘Am I now,’ Lucerne mouthed, his throat choked by a bitter lump. He swallowed hard. ‘Or are you just scared because really you feel exactly the same way?’

  Vaughan lifted his chin. His lips were thin and set, and his eyes, moments ago so open, were narrowed and glassy. ‘Go. Leave.’ He crossed the room again, this time heading for the door.

  Just a few paces short of it, Lucerne grabbed the back of his coat. ‘No! Admit it.’

  Vaughan’s elbow jabbed hard into Lucerne’s stomach, leaving him bent double, gasping for air; still his fingers remained locked around the thick fabric of Vaughan’s coat. Vaughan shucked it off. ‘I only ever wanted you.’

  Breathless, Lucerne launched himself forwards, hit Vaughan squarely in the midriff and sent them both crashing into the wall. His ears rang with the impact. The oak groaned beneath their weight as they both scuffled for balance and dominance, feet and fists delivering equally vicious jabs. Lucerne snaked his arms around his lover’s body and squeezed until he grew still. The world seemed to tumble in on itself. Everything that mattered was focused on the space in which their breath mingled. ‘I’m not leaving. Not yet.’ His heart was beating wildly and he could feel Vaughan’s too, drumming against his chest where they were pressed together. Desire coiled in his loins. Why did this always have to be the way? The rush he got when they tussled like this ran straight to his groin. For the second time, Lucerne forced his mouth down upon Vaughan’s.

  This time the kiss was salty and aggressive. It claimed. It demanded. When he pulled back to take a breath, Vaughan’s eyes were closed and his mouth slack from the vicious kiss. ‘I know what you need.’ He covered Vaughan’s prick with his hand and kneaded him with thumb and curled fingers.

  ‘No,’ Vaughan whimpered.

  ‘I’m going to fuck you,’ Lucerne said. ‘Just try and resist. And then tell me to walk away.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  Lucerne bent his head, licked and nipped Vaughan’s nipples through his waistcoat and his shirt. He slipped the buttons at his waistband and began to masturbate him with practised ease, his thumb and fingers curled around the shaft. This was what had been missing between them recently: the raw edge of intensity that left him reeling like a drunkard. Their fighting had become a pantomime for Bella’s amusement, not an expression of the frustration and desire they both felt. Society would not let them be together, not without her as a decoy. That was strain enough, without Bella’s desire to add to the mix.

  Vaughan’s mouth was hot and sweet, his nipples two taut little peaks. It wasn’t enough to ravage them through the fabric. Lucerne wanted to taste his skin, to know the heat of Vaughan’s flesh.

  Buttons! There were always too many damn buttons. Lucerne unfastened Vaughan’s, while his partner tried to reciprocate. After the first five, he knocked Vaughan’s hands away and concentrated on unfastening them himself.

  Waistcoats dealt with, his attention turned to their cravats. Lucerne wrenched his off and chucked it aside. Vaughan’s, he drew from him slowly, gently tugging open the knot, then pulling the white linen downwards until it unravelled and slithered to the floor.

  Within just a few heartbeats, Vaughan’s body was quivering in anticipation, his hips rocking to the rhythm of Lucerne’s hand, which cupped them both.

  ‘I need to get inside you, Vaughan,’ Lucerne panted into Vaughan’s rosemary-scented hair. ‘This isn’t close enough. You know that, don’t you?’

  Vaughan squeezed his eyes tight shut.

  Lucerne wetted his fingers and rubbed saliva between Vaughan’s cheeks.

  Vaughan’s breath hissed past his ear in response. His mouth fell open and his head tilted back. ‘Use the oil. Right pocket.’

  ‘Use it yourself.’ Lucerne slipped him the tip of one digit.

  Vaughan fumbled in his coat pocket. He bit the cap off the bottle and spat it out, then upended the contents into his palm.

  The glinting golden droplets rolled past his shirt cuff and down his arm. It was cold against Lucerne’s cock but warmed quickly.
r />   Using the wall for balance, Lucerne lifted Vaughan. He cupped his buttocks, found his anus and worked him loose with two fingers.

  The moment of penetration stole his breath. The tight heat, the sensation of being squeezed, coupled with the novelty of having Vaughan in his arms, their chests pressed together, it was too hot, too amazingly good. ‘Oh, God!’ Acutely aware of Vaughan’s every murmur, every hiss he made between his teeth, Lucerne inched a little deeper.

  The closeness he felt at having him like this surprised him. He should have done this more often. Been active instead of passive.

  Their mouths locked as Vaughan’s hands splayed across his bottom, and teased him. He fluttered his muscles around Lucerne’s cock, tilted his pelvis, making the slide deeper.

  Lucerne groaned, already feeling himself beginning to soar. It was all about the rhythm … He could just about focus on that. Deeper. The strokes becoming longer. Vaughan’s sighs, sharper.

  Nothing else mattered when they were locked together like this, only the fluttery sensation in his groin and the streamers of bliss that poured along his shaft. Just a little more, and he was going to come.

  Vaughan’s moans were a barely coherent jumble of syllables against his shoulder. He sucked his breath in deep, his voice rising on the out breath. Hot semen warmed his abdomen. Muscles clasped him tight, then he too was jerking and groaning with the force of his own climax.

  Slowly his head cleared. Lucerne brushed the hair out of his eyes, where the blond strands lay plastered to his skin. Vaughan’s head lolled warm and precious against his shoulder. He clasped him tight. Just holding him, knowing that what he had to do next would be the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. Expressing his feelings had never been something that came easily. He knew how he felt, but actually saying it was something else.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘But I love Bella too. And I can’t choose between you.’ Gently, he lowered Vaughan back to the floor. ‘Take care of her for me.’ He cleaned himself with a handkerchief, then fastened his breeches and waistcoat. He could feel tears pooling in his own eyes. He didn’t dare look at Vaughan who stood rigidly before him, his clothing still strewn about and unfastened, his stomach shiny with come. If he met his eyes, he knew he’d lose his resolve, and this was the only way he could make either of them truly happy. They might agree to forgive and forget, to begin their ménage à trois afresh, but the poison would still be there. They’d have the same problems over again.