Impractical

by Megan Derr

  Terrell just whimpered and moaned for more, fingers scrabbling on the rug for purchase as he moved in time with Edlin's thrusts. He was eager for more and harder and he had never felt such a desperate frenzy. He shouted Edlin's name as he came, only vaguely hearing his own name cried in reply as his vision disappeared with his breathing very close.

  The world returned slowly and Terrell whimpered again as Edlin slowly withdrew. Edlin lowered Terrell's legs, pulling a kerchief from his own jacket to clean him up as much as possible, before sitting Terrell up and stripping off the rest of his clothing. The air was refreshingly cool on Terrell's overheated skin and despite everything, his cock gave a half-hearted twitch; it just did something to him to be completely naked while Edlin was still completely dressed, with only his cock hanging out of his breeches.

  "Bed," Edlin stated. He stood them up, leading Terrell to the bedroom and pressing him down into the bedding. He stripped off his own clothes, and then vanished briefly to extinguish all the lights. Returning to the bedroom, Edlin climbed into the bed and bundled Terrell close. "I was dreading spending tonight alone. I am sorry for the misery I managed to cause us both tonight, but it cannot be all bad if it means that I sleep with you tonight and will be able to wake you up with my mouth upon—"

  Terrell groaned, too tired to respond to that image and aggravated that his body tried anyway. "Only if I do not wake up first," he countered.

  Edlin chuckled, breaths warm on his skin. He pressed a kiss to Terrell's brow.

  "So am I still meeting your brother tomorrow?" Terrell asked.

  "Certainly, if you wish," Edlin replied. "He was most sorry to have upset you so. I said I would pen him a note in the morning to let him know how everything went. I will tell him that we are all still meeting for luncheon."

  Nodding, Terrell settled more comfortably against Edlin's chest. He had sorely missed this. Soon, though, he would be at Fivecoats and such nights would become a regular occurrence. Just the thought of it made his heart speed up. "What will you have him doing at Fivecoats?"

  "I thought to make him my assistant, actually," Edlin replied. "I have always managed my own affairs here in the city, but taking on Fivecoats has greatly increased my responsibilities. He will make an excellent assistant." He stroked Terrell's back. "Thank you for being so amenable. I realize it is quite out of bounds—"

  "Nonsense," Terrell cut in. "It is entirely within bounds, and quite common really, to hire family. I am looking forward to meeting my newest brother-in-law."

  Edlin kissed him, long and slow and sweet. "You really are quite perfect."

  Terrell flushed. "I am only practical."

  Edlin chuckled, but said nothing more, only kissing him one last time before settling down to sleep.

  Ten

  Kirian had never felt more awkward, sitting in an opulent carriage with a man who need only snap his fingers to see that a bothersome pest like Kirian was taken away. He was exhausted and wide awake all at once, uncertain what to say to Lord Robert and dreading the confrontation with Evelyn—but also just wanting it to be done. What if Evelyn did not take him back? The fear knotted his stomach and burned in his chest, the thought that his damnable temper might have lost him the only thing that mattered causing despair to claw at him.

  "I think your parents would be pleased with you, to know you are following so closely in their footsteps."

  Kirian looked at him in surprise, and then snorted derisively. "My parents wanted nothing to do with the nobility they left behind; they would be horrified to know I married a duke's son. I do not think that is following in their footsteps at all."

  "You chose it yourself, which is unusual. Although as I understand it, while your professor was trying to force the issue, you did not have to go through with it. Neither did Evelyn. If he had wanted out of it, he had only to contact me and he knew it. I think you are both exactly where you want to be and damn whatever anyone else thinks. If you would only stop being so very young about it."

  Kirian made a face.

  Chuckling, Lord Robert added, "My son did not say much when he arrived, beyond telling me the bare bones of the matter, but some of the things he did say were most peculiar indeed. Are you by chance Frederick Cloud?"

  "Yes," Kirian said tersely, and wondered why it felt like something was lifting from his chest to admit it to someone other than Terrell. "For all the bloody good it has done me."

  "As I said, you are being very young about all this." Lord Robert reached into his jacket, pulled out a flask, and took a swallow, then held it out to Kirian. "Fortify yourself, young man, and stop looking so stricken. I promise that if you hold a civil conversation—a skill I would hazard to say you are still refining—and stop acting like a young idiot, you will end the night quite happily. If he wanted nothing more to do with you, he would not have run home."

  Kirian nodded, not really believing that, because Evelyn preferred to be nowhere near his family. Nonetheless, he took a swallow, coughed, and returned the flask. "You have surprising tastes, your grace."

  "Your father put me onto gin in our young and stupid days," Lord Robert replied as the carriage came to a stop. The door swung open a moment later and Lord Robert climbed out.

  Startled, Kirian followed suit, not knowing what to say as he followed Lord Robert up the steps to the townhouse, and then inside.

  The carriage, elegant and beautiful as it had been, was paltry alongside the lavish house. It was beautiful, with a simple and understated elegance that nevertheless dripped with wealth. Kirian did not lack for money, but he had never been comfortable with his unexpected fortune. Lord Robert clearly suffered from no such qualms. It was exactly the sort of life from which Kirian's father had walked away, the life Kirian should have had but never expected or wanted. He had only been comfortable with Evelyn's social status because it never really factored into their lives. Evelyn was estranged and he was alone, and so they fit well together. If Evelyn was reconciling with his family…

  Kirian had never felt so out of place. He handed his coat off to a silent, patient maid, along with his hat and gloves, while trying not to gawk at the paintings, the costly rugs, the crystal dripping from the ceiling. He finally looked at Lord Robert, who was speaking quietly with a footman, then turned to Kirian and said, "Evelyn is in his room. Up the stairs, farthest door on the right."

  "Thank you, Your Grace," Kirian replied, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides and hating that he was nervous about a confrontation. If Terrell had taken him to the play, he would have leapt up on stage without a moment's thought and gone toe-to-toe with all comers, feeling nothing but satisfied as he spent the night in a dank cell until Evelyn came to post his bail.

  So why was he so bloody scared of a simple conversation?

  "Under the circumstances," Lord Robert remarked, breaking into his thoughts, "I feel formality is a bit pointless. You are my son-in-law—Robert will be fine."

  "Yes, your—Robert," Kirian fumbled, startled.

  Robert chuckled. "Up the stairs, last on the right." Then he strode off down the hall and vanished into a room at the end of it. Swallowing nervously, Kirian put a hand to the polished banister and slowly climbed stairs that both seemed to go on forever and end all too soon. At the top, he hovered for a moment, trying to arrange thoughts and words in his head for once. It was important he say the right thing.

  But the words would not come, choked off by a fear that he was not accustomed to feeling and loathed quite vehemently. He had thought himself a mess while waiting to hear from his publisher, but that seemed so trifling now.

  Kirian scowled, annoyed with himself. Damn it, he may be terrified but he was not a bloody coward. Abandoning the stairs, he strode down the hall to farthest door on the right. He briefly considered knocking but decided not to give Evelyn a chance to refuse him and lock him out.

  Turning the knob, Kirian slipped inside—then paused, startled to see Evelyn asleep. To judge from the half-empty carafe of brandy on
the table beside him chair, it was little wonder.

  Kirian quietly closed the door, walked across the room, and set his satchel down beside the chair before reaching out to gently remove the snifter still clutched in Evelyn's hand. He stopped, startled, when his eyes landed on a familiar book in Evelyn's lap—one of his books, a copy Evelyn had sent to Frederick Cloud for autographing. Kirian picked it up and noticed that it was open to the page he had signed, printed with Evelyn's favorite poem.

  The dread he had momentarily forgotten stirred in Kirian's gut again. Were poems and pretty sketches all that made him worthwhile? He closed the book and set it on the table, then reached out and brushed a strand of hair off Evelyn's cheek. Tucking it back, he trailed his fingers back across Evelyn's cheek, relishing the familiar soft warmth of it.

  Evelyn's eyes fluttered, settled, and then slowly opened. He stared at the brandy and book a moment, then sat up straight in his chair—and froze as he finally became aware of Kirian. The sleepiness vanished from his face. "What are you doing here? I told them I was receiving no visitors and that most pointedly included you."

  Kirian flinched, honestly hurt by the words even though he had expected and even deserved them; the cool tone in which they were spoken made it all the worse. He had not been treated to Evelyn's icy behavior since they had agreed to make an honest try of their marriage. "Your father fetched me and brought me here."

  Evelyn glowered and abruptly stood up, forcing Kirian to stumble back and nearly fall on his ass. "Why would he do that? All he has done since my arrival is lecture and yell and reprimand. I cannot see him telling me I am a complete fool, and then inviting you here."

  "I wouldn't say he invited me," Kirian replied. "I meant it when I said he fetched me. He was waiting at our apartment and more or less ordered me to come here with him. He called me a fool, as well. But after we arrived, he told me that I might call him Robert. I think your father cares more than you realize or are willing to admit."

  Striding past him, Evelyn tugged on a bell pull by the door. Not turning around, he asked, "Is that why you are here, Kirian? To tell me my father is not so terrible after all?"

  "I am here to say I am sorry," Kirian said, refusing to be discouraged by the cool tone, the way Evelyn would not look at him—the use of his full name. But still he could not muster the same strength; his voice was more hesitant as he added, "I was also hoping to convince you to take me back."

  Evelyn slowly turned around—but before he could speak, there was a brisk knock at the door. Sighing in annoyance, as if having completely forgotten he was the one to call a servant, he yanked open the door and said with stiff politeness, "A tea tray, please."

  "Yes, my lord," the maid said, and scurried off, not waiting for Evelyn to shut the door.

  Silence fell in her wake and Kirian stared miserably at his bag near Evelyn's feet, despair overtaking him. That was that, he supposed. Evelyn was not thawing. Kirian drew a breath to try and say goodbye, and that he was sorry again, for what little it was worth.

  "Were you ever going to tell me?" Evelyn asked, drawing him up short, the hurt in his voice an echo for all that Kirian felt. "I tried so hard to convince you to trust me, but you would never say a single word. I did not understand how you could claim to care for me, and yet not really trust me at all."

  Kirian frowned. "I do trust you."

  "You would not tell me!" Evelyn snapped. "If you trusted me, you would have told me!"

  "I hate Frederick Cloud!" Kirian burst out, and then winced at how stupid that sounded. He balled his hands into fists at his sides and barreled on. "Everyone loves him even though they've never met him! You adore him, just from exchanging letters! I'm no bloody different than Frederick, but everyone loves him and hates me. No matter how fucking hard I tried to make you adore me more than him, to make you talk to me the way you did him—Frederick always won. He always wins."

  He sat down heavily in the seat Evelyn had abandoned, slowly unclenching his hands and staring at them—calloused, knuckles split from hitting Edlin and then Robert, stained with ink and charcoal. Not the hands of a noble, only of a writer and a brawler.

  "But I do adore you," Evelyn objected, breaking the silence again. "I admit it was the realization you were Frederick Cloud that gave me pause, made me take a chance—but it was you I wanted to know better, Kirian. I wanted to know the man behind Frederick Cloud, the man that everyone seemed to pass by. And—and I wanted to matter enough to him that he would admit his secret."

  Kirian laughed unsteadily, still staring at his hands. "I did not tell you because I was jealous of myself and wanted you to like me just for me."

  Hands covered his and Kirian reluctantly dragged his gaze up. "I do adore you, Kir. If you killed off Frederick Cloud tomorrow and never wrote another word, I would not love you any—" He broke off, flushed faintly pink as he realized too late what he had said.

  The words made it hard for Kirian to breathe for a moment, happiness banishing all the anxiety and despair. He twisted his hands free, grabbing Evelyn's arms and yanking him down for a feverish kiss. He did not break it until they both desperately needed air. "I love you, too," he breathed. "I thought it must be hopelessly obvious."

  Evelyn looked torn between pleasure and exasperation. "The only thing obvious was that I appeared to have lost my husband. I was so miserable that I came home and nearly gave my mother apoplexy from the shock."

  "I thought that meant you had left me," Kirian replied. "I would not have blamed you, even if I was a perfect mess over the thought."

  Sighing, Evelyn said, "I do wish you would stop running when you are upset."

  "I will try," Kirian agreed quietly. "I certainly hated returning home to find you gone—and your father waiting for me, after I had punched him."

  Evelyn laughed. "I cannot believe you punched—" He broke off at a knock on the door and glared at it again.

  "Serves you right for wanting tea," Kirian said, then called out, "Come in!" He kept firm hold of Evelyn, who was still on his knees and settled between Kirian's legs, pressed against him. He smiled at the maid, who flushed and hastily bustled out after depositing a tray of tea and snacks on the table by the door.

  "Honestly, Kir, there is no reason to scandalize the staff," Evelyn said, pinching him.

  Kirian just laughed and kissed his nose. "Be grateful that she came in before you opened my breeches and sucked my cock, and well before you had your cock buried in my ass."

  Evelyn's lips twitched with a poor attempt at hiding his mirth. "Is that what is about to happen, then? Here I thought we should have tea and continue our discussion."

  "My love, I confess to you I am none other than Frederick Cloud. I am sorry for running off," Kirian said, then kissed him. "I know a lack of conversation is what led to this mess, but I think there is a point where enough is enough."

  "You just want me to suck you," Evelyn accused, nipping at his jaw while his fingers worked deftly on the closures of his breeches.

  "That too," Kirian agreed. There were few things as beautiful and distracting as Evelyn on his knees, sucking Kirian's cock like there was nothing else he would rather do. Kirian gripped his hair, unable to not, thrusting into that warm mouth, not even trying to be quiet—

  He came with a cry he barely muffled in time, recalling belatedly that he was in his father-in-law's house. Kirian fell back in the chair and gasped for air, his fingers slowly untangling from Evelyn's hair. Just as he was getting his breath back, Evelyn yanked him to his feet and kissed him hard, then began to divest them both of their clothing. Kirian laughed as he was dragged to the bed and shoved down upon it. His laughter turned quickly to moans, however, as Evelyn settled between his legs and spread him wide, fingers invading his willing body. "Evie—"

  Evelyn said nothing, only kissing him as he slowly pulled his fingers out. He spread Kirian's legs wider still as he lined up his cock and pushed inside. Kirian pressed his head into the mattress, arching up into Evelyn and reaching out
to hold tightly to him as he finally began to move. There was little finesse, no teasing—just a desperate, needy thrusting, Evelyn pulling out and slamming back in—

  Evelyn buried his cry in the hollow of Kirian's throat, fingers so tight on Kirian's hips that there would probably be bruises, before he collapsed on top of him, a warm, heavy, and most reassuring weight. Several minutes passed before Evelyn finally pulled out and rolled off Kirian, settling next to him. Kirian turned, half-draping himself over Evelyn and completely uncaring that they were overheated, sweaty, and sticky. "So, may I take this to mean that I do not need to search for a new husband?"

  Evelyn smacked his chest lightly. "You are most certainly still attached to this husband." He fell silent a moment, then said more seriously, "I was upset with you, Kir, but I would never leave you. Not unless it was by mutual consent."

  "That consent will never be granted, not when I am several pages into an entire bloody ballad inspired by you," Kirian replied, ignoring the part of him that wanted to be shy and not talk about it, the part that only ever spoke of his writing to Terrell and in letters to Evelyn. As nervous as it made him, there was something decidedly pleasant about saying the words aloud, directly to the man himself.

  "Do not be absurd," Evelyn said, flushing again. "You have never mentioned such before, and what on earth is there in me to inspire an entire bloody ballad?"