As they approached, he realised it was merely a messenger holding a large box under his cloak.
“Mr Hyacinth Ardenovic?” he asked in a friendly tone and glanced at Vrila who nodded faintly in Hyacinth’s direction and muttered something about husband.
“A package for me?” Confused, Hyacinth took it and stared at the man as he said good-bye with a curt bow and polite words then continued on his way. He probably still had work to do or wanted to make it home quickly and escape the bad weather.
Inside, Hyacinth threw his coat carelessly over one of the chairs at the dining table and opened the package which, thanks to the courier’s forethought, had remained dry.
Vrila glanced over his shoulder with suspicion after he’d hung their outer garments in the wardrobe cabinet. “Who’s it from?”
“I don’t know.” Hyacinth shook his head. In the box was an assortment of sweets. All of them were affectionately wrapped with small red bows. Someone had exerted considerable effort for him, and he had the impression Vrila wasn’t the least bit thrilled about it. Nervously he pursed his lips and reached for the letter inside a red envelope. Who sent him such a thing? He didn’t have any friend who’d send him such a present. Uncomprehending, he scanned the lines written in an artistically intricate lettering.
Dear Mr Ardenovic, enclosed you will find a token of my gratitude for rescuing Billy. I hope you like chocolate. With the most cordial greetings, Gregory Merriweather
No, it really had been an awful idea. His first intuition was actually correct; it was idiotic to have given that man his address.
Although for totally different reasons than he’d assumed.
”Show it to me,” Vrila exclaimed angrily and snatched the letter from his hands to read it himself. His expression turned darker. “Who is that?”
“Someone I met by accident,” he replied in a raspy voice and tried to calm his quickening pulse. Vrila had every reason to be enraged. Hyacinth would have been as well because he was aware of the impression the gift might leave.
“By accident?” Vrila repeated between clenched teeth. “Are you trying to take me for an idiot?! What are you up to with this guy? What’s going on between you and him?!”
“Nothing at all,” he declared honestly and as softly as possible considering the situation. His feelings were stirred up not only because he was at odds with his husband once again, but also because he might have to confess he’d gone to see Stephen Bishop.
“Were you involved with him?! Tell me!” Vrila crumpled the letter in his balled fist, his knuckles turning as white as the paper. The posture of his body indicated he’d have preferred to bash something in.
“Don’t throw a tantrum,” Hyacinth admonished him, furrowing his brow.
Those words simply caused Vrila to shout even louder. “So? I’m not supposed to throw a tantrum when I have to see that my husband has an admirer he meets in secret to do God knows what? Please tell me how I’m not supposed to throw a tantrum!”
“You’re giving me headaches with the nonsense you’re talking! I don’t have any admirers! And I most certainly have never met anyone in secret! When would I even have the chance to do so? We’re together all the time!”
“Then who is this Gregory and why is he sending you a whole box full of chocolates, dammit?!” Vrila was becoming hoarse from yelling, and his voice broke at dammit. The expression on his face was the essence of rage, but a peculiar pain was hidden behind it – something Hyacinth could sense.
“I can understand why you’re jealous. I’d be as well,” he admitted calmly. “But I swear to you, I haven’t had another man since we’ve been married. I met Mr Merriweather by accident and rescued his cat. We ran across each other again in the library, and he asked me for my address so he could send me a token of his gratitude. Mr Wiplay was there; he can confirm I’m telling the truth.”
“How did you get to know him? Tell me, and I’ll decide whether or not I believe you,” Vrila growled, not particularly convinced, but he was at least willing to listen.
Although Hyacinth would have preferred to keep the story to himself, he began to speak: “I was at City Hall and was walking through the corridors when a kitten came running up to me. It was being chased by one of the clerks’ hunting dogs. I picked it up and protected it from a terrible fate. For this reason, Gregory Merriweather is grateful to me. A certain Mr Gavenish, the owner of the dogs, and a Mr Harsh are my witnesses, if you wish to cross-examine them.” He gulped and dared a look into Vrila’s dark eyes. “Although I hope, of course, you trust me enough to recognise that I’m being honest and wouldn’t cheat on you.” How could he ever prefer a man other than his own?
Vrila appeared to be struggling inwardly. By outward appearances, he didn’t believe him but obviously wanted to compose himself. “What were you doing at City Hall?”
Once again Hyacinth tried to force what little saliver he had down his constricted throat. “I was looking for Stephen Bishop.”
That admission caused Vrila to flinche as though someone had struck him. “You spoke with him?” he asked further in a raw voice and seemed uneasy. He was no longer able to look into Hyacinth’s eyes.
“We had a conversation. He told me who your father is and what your brother did.”
Vrila drew back a step as if he’d stumbled, and Hyacinth held out an arm to prevent him from falling, but his husband seemed to be standing at least halfway steady on his feet. “It wasn’t how you think it was. It wasn’t the way it might’ve appeared. Dimitri disciplined me to make a better man of me.”
“Someone who denies his true nature?” Hyacinth exclaimed drily. He felt considerable frustration with Vrila for defending his brother instead of realising that man had been an evil piece of shit.
Vrila gasped, apparently close to tears then turned away from him. “He didn’t understand it; it wasn’t his fault but mine. He’d raised me the way he thought was respectable. He shouldn’t be held responsible for how he did it.”
“Naturally he is responsible for his conduct! Who would it be otherwise?!”
“He couldn’t do anything about his views. He couldn’t help it if I disgusted him. He didn’t do anything unjust.”
“Yes he did!”
“No he didn’t! You don’t understand!” Vrila asserted and grasped his head with both hands and tugged at his hair.
Hyacinth was disgusted with Dimitri and angry with Vrila because he attributed all of the guilt to himself for being his brother’s victim. “Say it! Say that the bastard beat you!”
Suddenly Vrila lunged forward. Gasping in surprise, Hyacinth drew back. For a moment he believed Vrila would strike him for calling his brother a bastard. But his husband pounded his fist against the table rather than take out his rage on him. “Yes, dammit! He beat me as far back as I can remember, but I’m the bastard! As you know, it was my father, not his, who forced himself on my mother!”
Hyacinth spoke more steadily so as not to escalate the situation. “You aren’t the scum in this story, Vrila. You couldn’t do anything about how you were sired, and you can do even less about the fact that you are who you are. If those people didn’t recognise what a wonderful man you are, then they weren’t worth calling themselves your family.”
“You’re talking like a moron from one of those stupid, melodramatic opera pieces,” Vrila growled, and his expression turned as hard as it had been a few days before. The shadow in his face caused a cold shiver to run down Hyacinth’s back. “It’s ridiculous to say such things. I’ve gone through hell. My life consisted of being beaten, kicked and cursed at from every side. Then you come along with your empty platitudes about worth and innocence and all of that shit. You don’t have the slightest idea!”
“Do you think my life was easy?!” The personal attack hurt him, especially since he wanted nothing more than to console Vrila, dammit, and make it clear he loved him! “I don’t mean to say it was just as bad as yours, but I do have an idea about what it’s like to be beate
n and locked in closets! That night, my father intended to kill me in front of everyone, and you dare to say I have no idea what it’s like to suffer. You damn shit ass?!”
With those words he turned on his heels and stormed into their bedroom then banged the door behind him so loudly it nearly fell off its hinges.
*
Flinching, Vrila stared at the door that had slammed behind Hyacinth. Sapped of strength, he sank down on a chair, laid his arms on the table and bedded his head between them while drawing convulsive breaths. Why had he spoken so accusingly when he did know how hard a life Hyacinth had led? How could his mouth have uttered such stupid words?
His eyes burned behind closed lids. Once again he’d acted with contempt toward his husband.
Hyacinth had done nothing to merit such treatment. Quite the contrary. He had defended him against Dimitri who’d expressed nothing but hatred and disgust for him his whole life long.
The multitude of emotions experienced a short time ago overwhelmed Vrila like tidal waves. First of all he’d been horridly jealous, next shamed to the core, at last enraged then ultimately horrified.
Now he was sitting here regretting what he’d said. He wanted to take it all back, but words couldn’t be made unspoken.
Now Hyacinth knew what a pathetic creature he was. The son of a rapist. A man who couldn’t defend himself against his own brother. A feeble blemish on anyone’s shirt…
Nevertheless, his husband was still here, had manifested through deeds and words his affection for him. He hadn’t pushed him away after discovering what had happened. Only Vrila’s own stupidity and his idiotic babble had caused him to flee. In the end, he himself was guilty of this misery that gave him painful heartaches – from feelings of guilt because he’d made such unfounded accusations against his adorable young husband.
And from fear that he might lose Hyacinth.
*
Hyacinth didn’t know how much time had passed. It seemed like an eternity. Meanwhile it was completely dark outside.
For quite some time Vrila had paced back and forth in the living room, most likely in front of the hearth, then had busied himself with dishes.
He assumed dinner was cooking on the stove, but he had no appetite. And even though his damn husband was a great cook, at the moment he had no appetite for his food! Or to even eat together with him! That’s the last thing he wanted to do!
Just minutes before, a strange rustling could be heard at the door as if someone had shoved something under it. With a sigh he got up from the bed where he’d been lying with his face buried in one of the pillows that had smelled so enticingly of Vrila.
His heart beat faster when he glimpsed the book; it was actually thin enough to fit through the gap under the door. Had Vrila written him a message? Gulping, he picked it up and sat down before cautiously opening it, as if a beast might leap out from between its pages and devour him neck and crop.
I’m a damn idiot for repeatedly hurting you. I don’t do it intentionally. I couldn’t do that. I don’t know what makes me act like this, even though I like you so much. Once again I have to ask for your forgiveness, although I know you shouldn’t pardon but rather punish me. Regardless of what you decide, you will always be my dearest one.
Devotedly Hyacinth stroked over the words in black ink and attempted to suppress his emotions. He wanted to stay angry at this man. Why couldn’t he? In a flash of quiet desperation, he grimaced and grasped his forehead. He couldn’t remain furious any longer. Not after these endearing lines which had surely cost Vrila a good amount of effort. He simply couldn’t.
*
When the door behind him opened, he wasn’t courageous enough to turn around and look into Hyacinth’s eyes. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” he asked hoarsely in a peculiar sounding voice.
“No,” came the reply from the young man standing only a few steps behind him.
Vrila lowered his head while his heart skipped a beat and his stomach constricted in a painful cramp.
Suppressing a sense of bitter nausea, he dared ask the question causing him panic: “Are you going to leave me?” Not until he finished speaking did he realise he’d spoken almost inaudibly.
Hyacinth responded with an irritating, joyless laugh. “You are such an appalling imbecile. Sometimes I wonder whether you actually completed your studies or wrote your medical licence yourself.”
Even before Vrila could answer, a slender hand grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around. Their eyes met and his breath caught as he gazed into those splendidly bright green irides. “I’m sorry,” he choked forth to prove his remorse was genuine.
“I know,” Hyacinth replied in a surprisingly soft tone while scrunching his forehead. “Of course I’m not going to leave you. And we can’t have dinner yet because we have to make up first.” As he expressed those words, a smile crept onto his lips. The lad embraced Vrila’s waist and gently pushed him up against the sideboard. His eyelids lowered only slightly. Finally, he leaned forward and kissed him.
Gasping with horror and moaning with pleasure, Vrila opened his mouth. He slung his arms around his husband and drew him close. As close as he had feared he’d never be allowed again.
Everything inside him was in upheaval. His fear was expelled by different, sweeter emotions as they stood in the kitchen and kissed. He deserved neither that young man nor his affection but he enjoyed those like nothing else in the world. Hyacinth meant everything to him. Everything.
He followed him willingly into the bedroom. Not for a moment did they let go of each other. How much he desired that slender, warm body cuddled so perfectly against his own. How much he needed those passionate kisses in which they exchanged breaths. How intensely he longed to make Hyacinth his and coax sighs of pleasure from him.
However, the lad seemed to be carrying out different plans. To his confusion, Vrila was not forced onto the bed, but rather up against the wall. Hyacinth opened his shirt and softly stroked him across the chest, caressed his shoulders and affectionately fondled his neck with his fingers. When he bent down to kiss Vrila’s scars – every single one of them – he closed his eyes and pressed his lips together because they suddenly began to tremble. The emotions Hyacinth caused to erupt from him were almost too much to withstand.
It was ridiculous, but he had the impression that Hyacinth, with his gentle affection, took from him all of his memories of the war and its barbarity – extinguished them as though all of it had never happened.
Where did he get this ability from? How could he cause his memories of those terrible events to simply disappear? No doctor nor any kind of medication had succeeded, but Hyacinth seemed to have no trouble healing him…
Moaning quietly, he laid his head back as hot lips circled his navel. His heartbeat accelerated when his trousers were pulled down over his weak legs. Hyacinth curled his fingers around his stiff manhood and aroused him with gentle motions while covering his abdomen with kisses. Finally he licked his hard, throbbing length in a seductive movement from the base to the tip. Vrila bit his tongue so as not to scream. His skin broke out in beads of sweat, and he felt hotter than he had ever before.
Soft lips wandered down to his scrotum and nibbled on it. A moist tongue fluttered across his skin, and he emitted an inarticulate sound of pleasure that transformed into a loud groan when Hyacinth took his cock into his mouth.
Vrila’s quivering fingers sought for a way to grip the wall, and unconsciously his knees buckled partly because they had become incredibly malleable when he was surrounded by damp heat and drawn deeply into it. He wanted to observe his lad but didn’t dare lower his head and open his eyes because he feared Hyacinth might return his gaze and look into his face contorted with desire. That would have been unpleasant to him. Very unpleasant. So he had to be satisfied with sensing his husband, which threatened to drive him to the verge of insanity. And dangerously close to the verge of a climax he was trying to delay. Not an easy effort when Hyacinth had drawn him in so deeply,
feeling his throat tighten around the tip of his cock. That thought sent additional quivers throughout his body, so he chewed on his lower lip, but the slight discomfort did little to help.
Shortly before he came, Hyacinth withdrew from him with a jerk. He pushed him over to the bed and shoved him onto it. The young man hurriedly removed his clothes and presented his body to him, enticing Vrila to lick his lips. Surprised, he noticed how Hyacinth’s skin glistened with perspiration, and his breaths sounded more rapid than normal.
Vrila’s eyes wandered up and down, left not a speck unseen while admiring what he saw. By doing so, he suppressed the fact that Hyacinth seemed to be doing the same with him. Suddenly, the lad sat up on Vrila’s thigh and grabbed the bottle from the bedside table then dripped some of its contents onto a hand. Softly he oiled Vrila’s manhood.
While he was being caressed, he stared at his husband who appeared to be in deep concentration. He followed the perfect line of his lips, stroked those sweet cheeks with his gaze and gaped at his hard cock. If Hyacinth hadn’t released him right at that moment, he’d have come in his delicate but strong hand.
Vrila attempted to sit up because he knew what the man expected – after having prepared him – but Hyacinth shoved him back onto the pillows and slid up a bit higher to a sitting position on him. Protesting silently, Vrila reached for his husband’s arms and tried to throw him onto the pillows next to him. To his astonishment, Hyacinth was stronger in his tenacity – due to his superior position – than he, and he failed to push him away. Once again he was beset by nervousness and fear of failure.
A stern glare from under blond, constricted eyebrows met his. “You’re going to be looking at me, Vrila. I want to see in your eyes if I’m really the one you desire.”
“You know that’s not what it’s about,” Vrila protested as hoarsely and quietly. “Please. You know I desire you, but…”
A Hyacinth for His Hideousness Page 33
