“I suspect you would have preferred to hear we used to fuck for an audience,” Wesley said dryly.
“I wouldn’t be judging you for that,” Sebastian said. “Do you go on fox hunts together?”
“Surely that isn’t relevant.”
“It’s always relevant, because you should leave the foxes alone.”
“Would it soothe your marshmallow heart if I remind you that I don’t own dogs and I despise most people?” Wesley said, placing his top hat on a hat stand hook. “I’d hardly join entire parties to track down a single fox. I’d sooner keep the damn thing in my garden.”
“Oh.” That looked like it had, actually, made Sebastian feel better. “You should get dogs,” Sebastian said. “But not for hunting, to keep as pets. Like your neighbor’s little Maltese, Powderpuff.”
“Absolutely not—”
“And no shooting any of the animals when we go to the zoo.”
“Whenwe go to zoo.” A hint of a smile played on Wesley’s lips. “Listen to you, telling me what to do, confident I’ll capitulate to your whims. Where did cautious, polite Sebastian go?”
Sebastian hesitated.
Wesley stepped closer, behind one of the chairs. “It’s not an insult,” he promised. “It’s an observation. Or perhaps it’s a brag.”
“A brag?”
“You’re so quiet and careful with everyone else.” Wesley rested gloved hands along the high back of the chair. “But sometimes, when I get you alone, I get this other side of you, where you think you can order me around and give me a hard time.”
Sebastian leaned forward, arms folded on the top of the settee. “I think you just called me a pain in the ass.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Wesley said, still with a hint of a smile. “And no one would believe me if I told them. They only know your reticent, unreadable side, but I get the impertinent, bossy side, and to be honest, it’s maddening how attractive I find it.”
“So you think I’m acutepain in the ass?” Sebastian tilted his head, looking amused. “That’s an odd thing to like.”
“Not at all. At least, not for a man who keeps handcuffs in his bedroom.”
Sebastian’s amused look became a grin. “So you’re finally going to admit what they’re for?”
How could he rile Wesley up this much with nothing more than a little flirting? “And here you are again, talking to me like you never talk to anyone else,” Wesley said. “I think you don’t show this part of yourself easily, but I get it, just like I get you immediately stripping off every bit of your formalwear the instant you walk through my door. It’s as if the real you comes out just for me, and so yes, that is a brag.”
They were on the second floor, and with the wide-open curtains and glowing lamps, they were probably framed in the window like a play on a theater stage for anyone on the sidewalk. And what a sight Sebastian was, down to his waistcoat and rolled-up shirtsleeves, looking very much ready for Wesley to get the rest of those clothes off and get to the skin beneath.
Wesley’s skin still itched for nicotine, and shadows still haunted Sebastian’s eyes. Sebastian desperately needed a respite from his memories, and Wesley desperately needed something to occupy his hands and mouth.
How very lucky that they had each other.
There was a slight flush across Sebastian’s cheeks that suggested he was also feeling the anticipation of touch. “I guess I do show you things I don’t show anyone else.”
Wesley’s gaze automatically dipped to Sebastian’s wrist, where his arm was turned just enough that he could see the edge of the tattoo. The edge of a lion that only showed himself to Wesley.
He stepped forward, from behind the chair.
“Curtains are still open,” Sebastian said. “People in cars and on the sidewalk can see you.”
“They can see you too.”
Sebastian was already walking toward the drapes. “Yes, but really, no one cares about me,” he said. “But we just ran into men you know who questioned why we were together.”
“Yes, and I handled them,” Wesley pointed out. “You still seem to be under the impression that you carry sole responsibility for shielding my delicate reputation. Do you not understand how terrifying I am to most of society? That I am always the meanest, most powerful person in any given room?”
“You’re notmean,” Sebastian said, because of course he did. “And you used to be.”
