by Sean Kennedy
But he couldn’t think about “later.” In the here and now, here was Icarus, or Tobias, or whatever he wanted to call himself. Ezra would call him by any name he wanted, as long as it was attached to this very man who he really knew nothing about. Even that was what surprised him—the fact that he wanted to know more. Icarus had gone beyond a mythical figure; he was now a real man with motive and ideals, and Ezra had swung around from being his captor to willingly considering becoming his follower.
Ezra was so distracted by his own thoughts that Icarus suddenly reversed their positions, pushing against him so that he was now on his back against the tub and Icarus was on top of him. Ezra widened his legs so that Icarus had more access and pulled him down against him so that there was no longer any distance between them. Chest against chest, pecker against pecker, they writhed in the water, which continued to spill out of the bath in small waves, turning the dirt floor into mud.
Icarus dipped his head and trailed kisses down Ezra’s neck to the hair on his chest. The tip of his tongue trailed through the wet fur until it found a home against the pink, pinched nipple resting just slightly above the surface of the water. Ezra moaned as teeth lightly nipped at the bud, and then it was soothed by being taken wholly into Icarus’s mouth, with his tongue calming the rougher affections that had preceded it.
“You like that,” Icarus said, a statement, not a question.
“Fuck, yes,” Ezra spat.
“What about this?”
Ezra could only cry out as his other nipple was pinched between Icarus’s teeth and tugged at gently before the softer process of sucking was repeated. The heat from the play was as self-consuming as that between his legs. Ezra couldn’t take anymore. He reached between them—turnabout was fair play, and he wanted to see Icarus buck wildly, wanting release.
He took both them both in hand beneath the water, and began rubbing furiously. He wanted this to be quick.
Icarus threw his head back and cried out. He now could no longer concentrate on teasing Ezra; he grabbed the sides of the tub and just hung on as Ezra continued to pump them both. Now it was his turn to curse and thrust madly as he sought relief and release.
Feeling his balls tighten, Ezra held onto that image of Icarus caught in the spasms of ecstasy as the barn around them seemed to explode with light.
And unbidden, the name that burst out of him as he came was, “Tobias.”
The man who bore that name only when it suited slumped against him. “Say that again,” he panted.
Ezra exhaustedly kissed him; all he could strain for was the side of his neck. “Tobias.”
“It’s been a long time since anybody else knew that name,” Icarus said. “I like to hear it coming from you for some reason.”
“Maybe I’m finally growing on you.”
“I think you are,” Icarus agreed.
“Say my name,” Ezra prompted him. “All I’ve ever heard you call me is Kneebone.”
“Because it suits you.”
“Well, I want to hear you say my name.”
“Ezra,” Icarus said, tracing his jawline with kisses. “Ezra, Ezra, Ezra.”
“Just what the hell is going on between us?” Ezra breathed, taking it all in.
“I don’t know,” Icarus replied. “But I kind of like it, don’t you?”
Ezra wrapped his arms around Icarus and felt like he was close to heaven. “I do.”
Chapter 18
IT WAS a small ceremony, to be sure, but Lady Bart looked more regal than any queen as she solemnly announced, “Bless the Lilliput, and all who sail in her!”
Jazz kindly refrained from rolling her eyes, and Albert gave a polite round of applause.
Bart waited a moment, and then folded her arms. “Well?”
Leaning across the console, Jazz flicked the starter motor and was thankfully rewarded by the sound of the Lilliput’s primary engine roaring into life.
Lady Bart clapped her hands and gazed with admiration at her partner.
“So does this mean you can fly again?” Albert asked.
“I think all signs are pointing to yes,” Jazz grinned.
“Don’t trust airships,” Albert said gruffly. “If the good Lord meant us to fly, he would have given us wings.”
“And if He wanted us to ride horses for all time, he would have made us centaurs,” Jazz shot back.
“Now, now,” Bart said placatingly to both of them. “Part of man’s greatest mystery is the ability to be innovative and improve upon his lot.”
“Don’t leave out the women,” Jazz growled.
“I never do,” Bart replied with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Albert harrumphed to himself. “Shall I prepare the horses for departure, Lady Bartholomew?”
Unable to stop herself from being so open about what she wanted, Jazz shot Bart what she was sure was a look of abject desperation.
Coolly, almost nonchalantly, Bart acknowledged the look with a small tilt of her head and turned to Albert. “I believe I may travel with Jazille a little further, at least until we find out poor Ezra’s fate. You may return home, Albert. I am sure I am in good hands here.”
Albert looked as if he was ready to disagree with her, but Jazz knew that it wouldn’t do for a servant to argue with his mistress. At least in public. Jazz had seen (and heard) enough behind closed doors to be more than aware that Albert never minded unleashing the full fury of his tongue at Bart, a privilege he kept as he had known her from the time she was a child, many years before she had taken on the moniker of her departed husband.
“If that’s what you wish, Lady Bart,” Albert said stiffly. “I’ll go and attend to the horses now.”
“Oh dear,” Bart said fretfully as he exited the cockpit. “I’m afraid I’ve offended him.”
“Thank you for staying.” Jazz reached for her hand and stroked it gently with her thumb.
“Do you really think Ezra has come to harm?”
“Kneebone is tenacious,” Jazz said softly, “but he’s only human. I can’t help but fear it in the back of my mind.”
Bart kissed her, her lips as gentle as feathers against Jazz’s cheek. “I should go and speak to Albert before he leaves, and give him the opportunity to yell at me and tell me how irresponsible and unladylike I’m being.”
“Hurry back.”
“I will.”
Jazz let her hand drop, and watched her leave for a brief moment before returning to the sensors and satisfying herself that the Lilliput was indeed ready for launch.
EZRA and Icarus had remained in the water together for as long as was decent, and before Ruth would be inclined to come and seek them out for lunch. After their intimacy together, they suddenly became shy, dressing with their backs to each other.
Now they sat at Ruth’s kitchen table with barely a word between them. Ruth kept up the conversation, asking questions of each man, but there was little interplay between the three of them at once. The two men wolfed down the food supplied for them, and like any woman who has children, Ruth was pleased to watch them eat until they were bursting at the seams.
“How long have you been out in the desert for?”
“About two days, ma’am,” Ezra replied politely around a mouthful of chicken.
Ruth made a sigh of disapproval. “Tobias!”
Icarus noticeably jumped, and Ezra couldn’t repress a smile at how much younger he looked around his taciturn sister.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting to be shanghaied,” Icarus said.
“It was a double shanghai, really,” Ezra told Ruth. “I mean, he was meant to be my prisoner, but then we both ended up captives of other men.”
“I believe that’s called karma.” Ruth poured them all more cool water from a stoneware jug.
“Most likely.” Ezra let his eyes wander around the kitchen, marveling at how free it was from modern contraptions. No mechanized refrigeration units for her; an old-fashioned gunnysack safe sat in a corner. It all felt very Spartan, and
Ezra was sure he couldn’t live like that himself, although he had immense respect for the woman.
It was obvious that it wasn’t the way Icarus would have chosen to live his life, either, or else he wouldn’t have developed his wings and been flying all over the countryside.
“Well, it’s all changed now,” Icarus said, perhaps to defuse the awkward pause the references to Ezra’s original intentions with himself seemed to bring up. Ezra shot him a grateful look.
And he found it difficult to tear his gaze away. Funny how Icarus seemed even more desirable to him now, in a crisp blue shirt with only one button undone, hinting at the smooth skin of his chest, even though he had been used to seeing him wearing nothing more than a pair of pants. Of course, a shirt would only get in the way of the wearing of the wings’ harness….
“Do you still have the stuff I left here?” Icarus asked his sister, interrupting Ezra’s train of thought.
“Of course. What else would I have done with it?”
“I just need to grab some of it. Are you putting on coffee?”
“I suppose I could do that.”
Icarus nodded at Ezra. “Keep her company for me?”
“Like I need it,” Ruth huffed.
“Sure,” Ezra replied uncomfortably.
Ruth wasted no time honing in on Ezra once Icarus left them alone. “Did you really intend to turn Tobias in to the sheriffs for a reward?”
“At one point of time, yes.”
He suddenly had the feeling that if Icarus hadn’t been upstairs, Ruth would have crossed the room in one giant leap with a knife in her hand to take him out.
“He’s obviously a better man than you are, because when he had the chance to, he didn’t leave you in the desert to die.”
“I know, lady!” Ezra didn’t mean to snap at her, but he was quickly getting tired of all the judging.
“Don’t you lady me. You’re in my house, and the only reason you’re not full of lead is because my brother has taken some kind of shine to you.”
Ruth knew about her brother’s… proclivities?
Apparently mind reading was one of her many surprising traits as well. “Don’t give me that coy look. I know all about Tobias and what he likes in a partner. I can’t say I understand it, but I’m not going to judge him for it. There’s been enough judging of him by others without me adding to it.”
“Are you talking about his father?”
Her eyes narrowed. “He told you?”
“Not in so many words. Just—I’m pretty good at putting the pieces together of what is said and what is left unsaid.”
“Daddy isn’t as… accepting of Tobias.”
Ezra’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by accepting?”
“I mean he threw Tobias out of home when he was seventeen and caught him with another boy. I was already married and living here by then, so he came to live with me.”
“That was good of you.”
“He’s my brother, what else was I going to do?”
“Obviously not treat him like his father did.”
She harrumphed to herself. “I wouldn’t treat a dog that way, so why would I Tobias?”
Ezra wasn’t exactly sure he liked the analogy, although he was sure she meant well. “Can I ask you something?”
“I guess.”
It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement to go ahead, but he decided to run with it. “You haven’t done anything to incur your father’s wrath. So why—”
“Why am I living in this house in the middle of the desert?”
Her eyes were fiery, and Ezra swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“This is my home. And you’re insulting it.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. But your father is one of the wealthiest men in the country—”
“And he’s a bastard,” she spat. “He practically disowned me when I married my husband, said he was below me.”
“Practically?”
“Well, he said I made my bed when I took Tobias in.”
Ezra felt a warm semblance of affection for her grow within him.
“No great loss,” Ruth shrugged. “I had already resigned myself to this life when I got married.”
“But you married for love. Isn’t that the important thing?”
“Of course.” But then a small smile fluttered across her stern features. “But I would never say a little money wouldn’t help.”
Seemed they had a little in common after all. Icarus obviously felt more betrayed by his father’s disowning of him and had entirely rejected any ties to the old morals of his past. Money was anathema to him now, unless it could be used to help other people poorer than himself, whereas Ruth still held onto a commonsense approach despite her siding with her brother and the probable loss of her inheritance. It made Ezra wonder if the creation of Icarus was just a way to get back at the old man, especially as Tobias didn’t seem to pocket any money for himself. The rejection of money just kept continuing on, in whatever form.
“What are you talking about?”
Ezra turned to see Icarus in the doorway, staring at them with wary interest.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Ruth asked.
“Just a pair of boots. There may be some walking ahead of us still.”
“I can lend you a horse,” Ruth said brusquely. “I’m not going to let you walk into town.”
“Why should we leave in more luxury than we arrived?” Icarus asked, sitting back at the table.
“You already are. Don’t forget you arrived here half-naked, like a heathen.”
“Then I’m walking out like a veritable king.” Icarus grinned.
“I thought we came here for horses?” Ezra asked.
Ruth pursed her lips, glad that her brother was caught out. “See!”
The cuff on Ezra’s wrist suddenly sent out a squawk, making all three at the table jump and staving off the argument that would inevitably follow.
“Sorry,” Ezra said, red-faced. “It’s been acting up ever since we jumped out of that dirigible.”
Open-mouthed, Ruth turned on her brother. “You jumped out of an airship?”
He shrugged.
“Please tell me you were wearing your wings.”
Icarus shook his head. “He took them off me, remember? But we shared a chute.”
Ruth shook her head as if he were mad. “Shared?”
The cuff sounded again. “—ra?”
“Jazz!” Ezra yelled, but in his excitement forgot to hit the response button. He did so. “Jazz?”
“Ez— —bone?”
“Jazz! Come in!”
“Can you —ear —e?”
The cuff gave one more undignified sound and then died off.
“I don’t think they heard you,” Ruth told him.
“Do you think they managed to get a lock on the signal?” Icarus asked.
“I hope so,” Ezra replied. “But we probably shouldn’t expect it. Our luck, in the brief time we’ve known each other, has never been that good.”
An ominous rumble in the distance made Ruth cock her head. “It didn’t look like we were due for a storm.”
Ezra watched ripples form on the surface of the glasses of water on the table. A brief flare of hope blossomed within him. It was a familiar sound; one he loved more than anything. “That’s no storm. That’s a ship coming in.”
Icarus and Ruth both jumped up as one.
“The cellar?” he asked.
She nodded. “You can follow the tunnel out to the back of the barn.”
“Tunnel?” Ezra asked.
“Come on,” Icarus said impatiently. “What if it’s someone looking for us?”
“That’s what I’m hoping!” Ezra said. “It’s Jazz!”
“Kneebone, don’t be stupid! We can’t risk it! We should hide.”
“And I’m telling you, I know the sound of my ship. That’s the Lilliput!”
He could see Icarus’s desperation—caught between wanting to b
elieve him and wanting to save his skin for just a while longer.
“Trust me,” Ezra said gently. “I know my ship.”
And surprisingly, Icarus did just that. He swallowed heavily and nodded. But he couldn’t resist adding, “If you’re wrong—”
“Then you can chide me as much as you like while we rot in our cells.”
“What a satisfying resolution,” Ruth snapped. “Tobias, get in the cellar!”
Her brother leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Like I said, I trust him. For some reason.”
Ruth shook her head. “Well, we are all made fools by men at times.”
Ezra tried to give her a conciliatory look, but she would have none of it. He followed Icarus out of the kitchen and to the front door. As Ezra opened it, sand kicked in, brought by the wind. They both shielded their eyes and stepped out onto the porch.
The sound like thunder was now more recognizable as ship engines, although they still couldn’t see any presence of it. Ezra walked off the porch and turned to look back beyond the house out to the barn, and that was when the Lilliput swung into sight. He felt his face ache with relief as he smiled, and the weight he was feeling on his shoulders began to drop away.
“It’s the cavalry,” he announced to Icarus.
“Your cavalry,” Icarus pointed out, and Ezra was disappointed by his response.
“It could be your cavalry too.”
“We’re on different paths, you and I,” Icarus said.
“What are you saying?”
“You let me go. Now I have to go and do what I always do.”
“You won’t be able to do it forever,” Ezra reminded him.
“Maybe not,” Icarus admitted. “But I’ll keep on doing it as long as I can.”
