He sounded like Vanya remembered when he came, curled forward, fingers gripping Vanya’s heavier robe hard enough to almost tear as he blocked out the sky above. When Soren finally caught his breath and lifted his head, his eyes were more black than gray, dark with desire. Vanya ignored his own throbbing ache for the moment in favor of raising his hand to Soren’s mouth, who needed no guidance to lick Vanya’s fingers clean of his spend.
He sucked on them until Vanya could no longer ignore his own need. Vanya pulled his fingers free and undid his own trousers, freeing his cock. He gripped Soren’s hips and urged him higher. It was easy to push inside, to swallow Soren’s quiet moan as Vanya pulled him down onto his cock with firm hands. When Soren finally settled on his lap, gasping against Vanya’s mouth, he rolled his hips upward, driving his cock as deep as he could into that tight warmth.
Soren took the hint and used Vanya’s shoulders to leverage himself up before sinking back down. He’d already come, but that didn’t stop him from giving up what Vanya wanted. He moved with a fluid ease that only came from years of knowing how to use his body in the field. Soren tipped his head back, swallowing thickly as he rolled his hips, the gauzy robe sticking to his skin from sweat.
Vanya held Soren close as he came, driving in deep to the willing body sprawled over his, listening to the way Soren’s breath stuttered in his chest, half-hard again from his efforts of bringing Vanya over the edge.
When Soren moved as if he was going to get up, Vanya dug his fingers into warm skin, nipping at his jaw. “Stay.”
Soren sighed, his breath ghosting over Vanya’s neck, but he didn’t protest the request or when Vanya finally moved them from the courtyard to his bed.
In the morning, when Vanya woke from a night of indulgence, Soren was still by his side.
Twelve
NATHANIEL
Paradis was a burlesque club and brothel that catered to the merchant class, located on the eastern side of the Serpentine River, snugged up against an inner defensive city wall. The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but neither was it the worst, and the pubs that lined the street ensured Paradis always had customers stumbling through its red door.
Nathaniel and Blaine didn’t stumble so much as drunkenly stagger into the establishment after drinking at two pubs. The smell of perfume in the low-lit foyer made Nathaniel’s nose twitch, but it wasn’t enough to send him back out into the street. Especially not with the greeting they were given.
“Hello, darling,” Scarlette purred as she sauntered down the hallway toward them.
“My dearest Scarlette,” Nathaniel said, doffing his hat in a tipsy sort of bow to the madame of the house. “You look as beautiful as ever.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Clementine.”
Scarlette had the body of a dancer, all firm curves and precise control over her long limbs. Her hair was dyed an unnatural red that matched her lip rouge, the shade bright and gleaming beneath the chandeliers. She wore her hair pinned up, not loose like some of the girls and boys she supervised. The black stockings and red corset she wore with its feathered skirt surrounding her hips matched the color of her hair.
Her choice of colors also matched the blooming bouquet of roses tattooed on either side of her neck, the leaves of the flowers arching toward the center of her throat. Hidden beneath the ink was a set of bank numbers Nathaniel had asked about only once when he didn’t know any better.
Scarlette’s exquisitely painted face dominated by green eyes was ageless, and she looked the same now as she did back when Nathaniel was fifteen and staying out late with his friends, daringly unsupervised. Scarlette had made a living on the stage here as well as between the sheets of her bedroom upstairs. Nathaniel had visited her in both places over the last few years, and while he enjoyed his time with her, he was smart enough not to fall in love with her like nearly all the rest of her returning customers.
Besides, there was a whip-smart young baroness Nathaniel wanted to call on, either here in Amari or in Cosian if need be. Scarlette, he knew, would never begrudge him his change in desires. She was a businessperson as much as he was and understood when desires needed to be renegotiated.
What’s more, she was a cog he was connected to within the Clockwork Brigade, and he was here tonight to introduce her to Blaine.
Scarlette cocked a hand on one hip, the heels she wore putting her at eye level with Nathaniel. “Who’s your friend?”
Nathaniel put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder, smiling widely, still tasting the alcohol from the last round of beers they’d had on his tongue. “May I introduce you to Tristan Arquette, a professor at the Aether School of Engineering and a newly made friend of mine.”
“A pleasure,” Blaine said, bobbing his head a little before listing to the side.
Nathaniel tightened his grip to keep the older man upright. The sloshy feel of too much drink was getting to them both.
“You’ve a bit of an accent. Do you travel much, Professor?” Scarlette asked.
Blaine paused a moment before saying, “I spent some time in E’ridia for my engineering education.”
“That’s the lilt I’m hearing. Do you know any aeronaut captains? My girls and boys do so love when they stop by.”
“Tristan is more interested in airships than their captains,” Nathaniel interrupted. “But we aren’t here to chat about work. Rumor is you have a new show this season.”
Scarlette smiled and easily slipped between them, hooking her arms around theirs. “Rumor would be correct, darling. Let me show you to your table.”
She led them down the hallway toward the source of the music and laughter that echoed through the walls. The beaded curtain that blocked their way was easily parted, and they stepped into a warmly lit room filled with booths, tables, and chaises. Almost every spot in the small theater was filled, men and women alike being tended to by servers for drink, dancers for future tips, and those there to coax willing partners to a room upstairs.
Scarlette dealt in pleasures, both the reality and illusion of them.
