The interior of the coach remained dim and claustrophobic for most of the journey. Johnathan yearned for the moonlit, crisp air outside. It was difficult to gauge the passage of time within the tight quarters, compounded by the snoring Madame Luce, who dozed on despite present odorous company. Johnathan crouched across from her, the thinly padded half seat far too small for his bulk, miserable and choking on his own stink. A constant ache built in his bunched muscles. Each bump and dip in the road rattled through his skull, his jaw throbbing since he’d clenched his teeth together from the moment the coach door closed. His mood was beyond salty after Vic chose to ride up front with the driver to ‘take in the fresh country air’. Desperate to be free of the coach when the rock and rumble of the ride finally ceased, Johnathan wanted to burst from the odiferous box when Vic opened the door. Luckily, cramps locked up his limbs.
“A spit of a town, but it has an inn.”
Johnathan grunted in response, unfolding his length from the carriage to stretch and regain feeling in his limbs. Vic bid their ride farewell, easing them from his compulsion before they pulled away into the night, onto another destination.
Small was an understatement, their current stop over competed with Cress Haven in terms of size and structure. The town consisted of a single road, dotted with a smattering of multi-purpose shops and a two-story inn, the tallest structure in the town. A loose cluster of houses could be seen beyond the center, while a wide river bordered the other side. A sizable dock hugged the shore, the center of the town’s industry judging by the number of boats. The town likely sprung up out of necessity to support the small port, though it was a far cry from the oceanic ports of Boston. Stopping for the night amid a small-town population was not ideal with the Society on their trail, lacking the anonymity of a city or the isolation of the wilderness. Despite his misgivings, Johnathan was grateful for the reprieve. The windows of the inn held a warm glow, beckoning them inside from the damp chill of the night.
Shaking the stiffness from his shoulders, Johnathan followed Vic into the inn, closing his eyes against the sudden light. Warmth enveloped him, a damp heat of kitchen steam and enclosed bodies, that licked over his skin and weighed on his eyelids. Why had sleep continued to elude him when his body appeared to crave it? When had he last managed a true period of rest? Certainly not in that god forsaken coach, crouched down like a vagrant stowaway. Vic steered him to a corner by the stairs, well away from the lamp light since his glasses were long gone.
“Wait here,” he said. Johnathan didn’t argue, letting the wall support his weight. He kept his head down, observing the room through his lashes. There were a handful of patrons seated around the room, enjoying a pint and a meal. Perfume continued to assault his senses, but the sting had dulled after hours of exposure. His reek seemed contained to his section of the room. Through the noxious coat of perfume, he caught a whiff of hearty stew. His stomach rumbled. Johnathan ignored it. The tables were worn but clean. Even his corner was void of spider webs and dust, a promising sign.
The nearest chair called to him. Perhaps he could sit and rest his head for a few minutes before Vic returned. The very idea of moving from his position against the wall sent a wave of fatigue through him. The muscles of his neck and shoulders were winched tight, a mess of knots and taut tendons from his hunkered down position in the carriage and the strange anxiety at being separate from Vic in that confined space. Exhaustion didn’t stifle the kick of his pulse when Vic appeared at his side, threading an arm around Johnathan’s waist to lead him upstairs.
“I’ve had a meal sent up to the room and asked them to draw a hot bath,” said Vic.
The promise of an actual bath nearly drew a moan from him, though he managed to stifle himself. “Are we staying the night, then?”
Vic nodded. “We could both use a respite. I believe we have put enough distance between ourselves and our errant pursuers.” His hand shifted to the center of Johnathan’s back, a gentle brush of long fingers causing his aching muscles to tingle. “And I need to secure our means of passage for the next leg of our journey, now that the train is no longer an option.”
The reminder made Johnathan wince. “I’m sorry.”
A frown creased Vic’s brow. “Whatever for?”
Johnathan stared down at his feet as they climbed the stairs, heat creeping up the back of his neck. “They were probably tracking me.”
Vic snorted. “We don’t know that. The woman was too surprised by your appearance.”
“You mean by that growl?” Johnathan was disgusted by his behavior there, or truthfully, shaken. It was more of a snarl than a growl, ripped from his chest at the mere mention of possible harm to Vic. The animalistic sound echoed in his memory. His hands balled into fists at his thighs.
“Mmm,” Vic hummed, his fingers curling in the fabric of Johnathan’s shirts. “That was something.” He shook himself. “Nevertheless, we don’t know what drew them to the train, and we will be well away before they find us again.”
Their encounter continued to put Johnathan ill at ease. For now, there was little to do except let it simmer in the back of his thoughts, the need for a bath and food dominating all other worries. The door of their room was open, the sound of pouring water within. A young woman in uniform emerged with an empty steaming bucket, pausing at the sight of them. Her curious gaze roved over Vic and Johnathan, a blush coloring her cheeks. Her nose scrunched up when the overbearing scent of perfume hit her, swallowing a cough.
“Your bath is ready, sir,” she wheezed, tucking the bucket under her arm and scurrying away.
Johnathan shook his head, already shrugging out of his coat before he was fully in the room. His vision tunneled on the steaming bathtub, and he tugged his shirt over his head with casual disregard.
“You could at least shut the door before you strip, John,” Vic teased as he did so, throwing the latch. He followed in Johnathan’s wake, picking up his discarded clothes with a huff. “Honestly, at least drape your clothes on a chair. I’m not your maid.”
“You could have left it for a few minutes,” said Johnathan, shucking his pants beside the tub without hesitation. The tub was nearly too full, water sloshing over the sides when he stepped in and sank down with an appreciative groan. The sound rolled out of him with utter abandon. Johnathan shoved himself down under the water as much as his long legs would allow. The tub was woefully inadequate for someone his size, but he managed to scrunch down so the water lapped at his sore shoulders, folding his legs against the opposite tub wall until the copper sides creaked.
Ignoring Vic’s snort, Johnathan let the heat sink into him for a beat before he reached for the bar of soap on the nearby stand. He itched to scrub the perfume from his skin and hair, though rinsing the suds from his scalp would be a logistical nightmare. If he had to thrust his arse up to manage it, he would wash the cloying scent off every inch. His fingers paused, tangled in his hair. Awareness caressed the back of his neck. Johnathan glanced up through the stinging suds to find Vic watching him. That quicksilver gaze riveted on the droplets rolling down Johnathan’s naked chest.
Johnathan sucked in a strained breath. A resurgence of heat made his lungs a bellows, working in time to the rising beat of his pulse. A pulse that sent blood rushing directly southward, the hot water already giving his cheeks a ruddy hue. The water concealed the rise and twitch of his cock bobbing against his leg in response to Vic’s attentive gaze. Johnathan cleared his throat and shifted in the water, wiping at the suds running into his eyes.
“That tub is barely bigger than a rain barrel,” said Vic. His steps were silent, the weaving gait of cat stalking its prey. “It amazes me you wedged yourself in there.” A smile curled Vic’s lips. He circled the tub, passing out of sight until his breath tickled the back of Johnathan’s neck. “You appear to need some assistance, my cherub.”
Johnathan snorted at the teasing endearment, letting his head fall back to peer up at Vic. The man was peering down into the water, one brow raised.
“You appear to need my assistance in more ways than one,” said Vic.
“Christ,” Johnathan muttered, straightening. The back of his neck must be scarlet. A surge of shyness gripped him, though he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like Vic hadn’t seen him naked before. Except this was different, like their near intimacy in the train was different. The fresh tension in his weary muscles held a pronounced ache, stiffening all over; desire warred with uncertainty and inexperience. How could he want someone so badly and feel like a rabbit in a snare trap at the same time? Vic leaned in, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. His bare forearms circling around Johnathan, who shivered at the gentle scrape of Vic’s shirt against his neck. Cool hands pressed flat over Johnathan’s chest.
“Relax,” Vic whispered. “You’re overthinking, my lamb.”
“I can’t help it,” said Johnathan. “I—”
Vic stopped his words with a quick tweak of his nipple, Johnathan jerked in surprise. “Hush. Let me take care of you, John.”
He opened his mouth to inquire how when Vic began kneading the tight muscles of his chest and shoulders in masterful strokes. Johnathan moaned loudly from the sensation, his head lolling against the rhythm of Vic’s touch. The long-seated tension he’d carried since their flight from the train finally eased its grip on him.
“Close your eyes,” said Vic.
He obeyed, grunting when water poured over his head. Vic shifted his ministrations to Johnathan’s scalp, working his fingers through the tangled mane in between slow pours of warm water. The pungent perfume dissolved in the clean smell of soap, mingling with the citrus spiked odor that was uniquely Vic. Johnathan inhaled a deep breath, surreptitiously drinking in the other man’s scent, drawing it into his lungs, until it permeated his being, heightening his awareness of the other man. Vic’s long fingers flowed down, tracing the curve of his neck, over the planes of his chest, before they dipped beneath the water and wrapped around Johnathan’s eager flesh.
His eyes fluttered, a gasp rising. Vic was already there, swallowing the sound, his velvety tongue stroking inside Johnathan’s mouth, a teasing touch and go until Vic drew back to nip at his bottom lip. Johnathan gripped the sides of the tub, the copper whining in his grip while Vic worked him, drawing forth sensations Johnathan never managed to illicit during his own quick, fumbling ministrations. He’d been a lad, trying to satisfy an urge beneath a scratchy wool blanket on his cot in a crowded dormitory. Johnathan’s current situation was a far cry from those clumsy motions, his back bowing as a far different tightness pervaded his lower region. Vic’s hand stilled, giving him a squeeze he answered with a hiss through his teeth.
“Let me taste you,” Vic whispered, his lips against Johnathan’s damp temple.
Johnathan blinked, panting. It took a long moment to latch onto Vic’s words through the haze of pleasure. “Taste? All right.” He tilted his head to offer his neck when Vic’s hands released him and shifted upward, wrapping around his waist. Johnathan didn’t have time to process the intent when he went airborne. A yelp squeezed out of his throat, failing wildly before those same hands guided his descent to the bed. Johnathan bounced, shedding droplets of bathwater on the sheets. Wide eyed, he glanced at the tub across the room, a trail of splattered droplets marking his passage through the air. Vic loomed over him wearing a satisfied smirk, still fully clothed between Johnathan’s legs. He went perfectly still when Vic’s head lowered, strands of auburn hair tickling his thighs.
Vic blew a stream of cool air, making his stiffened cock flex before the wet heat of his mouth enveloped Johnathan, taking far more of him than he thought possible. He grasped at the damp sheets, digging his heels into the mattress for purchase. Vic pinned his hips with one hand. Sensations boiled under his skin, a great tingling swept through his veins, while pressure built again, deep in his balls. The depth of sensation scared him, unlike anything he’d felt before, while still human.
A small whimper escaped his taut throat. Johnathan thrashed, tendrils of shame and disgust creeping through him, threatening to puncture the swell of pleasure rising inside him. He didn’t realize Vic paused in his ministrations until he reached up to cup Johnathan’s face. “Stay with me, John,” Vic commanded. That quicksilver gaze snared him, offering no reprieve. “Watch me with those lovely burning eyes.” The words sank their hooks into him. Johnathan couldn’t breathe, watching Vic lower his head back down, his gaze fastened on the sight of Vic’s tongue teasing the crown of his cock, lapping at the liquid beaded there.
“You’re here with me now,” Vic murmured against his skin, the vibrations of his mouth sent tingling ripples through Johnathan. “Give me your pleasure, John.”
Hell couldn’t pry his gaze from Vic’s mouth. Watching his lips close around him, the inward pull of his cheeks when Vic drew him deep. A purr rose from the man’s throat, the sensation too much for Johnathan. His senses spiraled, scents and colors crackling together in a delicious siege. A final stroke of Vic’s tongue along the underside of his cockhead tipped him over a precipice. His hips jerked against Vic’s hold, but that silken mouth didn’t release him, taking everything until Johnathan collapsed back against the damp sheets, breathing hard. Vic gave his shaft a last long lick and crawled over the sheets to lay beside Johnathan. A hand reached over to smooth his wet hair off his forehead.
“Still with me, John?”
Dammit all. His gaze darted to Vic’s wicked mouth. “I might have blacked out for a moment there.”
The playful smirk on Vic’s lips made his hunger rise again. “I consider that a job well down.” He gave a lazy stretch, tucking an arm behind his head.
“I can’t believe you threw me across the room,” said Johnathan, part awed, part flustered by the act. Vic tossed him as if weighed less than a stray cat.
The smirk broke into a full grin. “The expression on your face was rather marvelous.”
The room was quiet aside from Johnathan’s panting breaths, slower now. The aftershocks throbbed through him, a constant fizz, hyper aware of Vic’s proximity though he doubted he could reciprocate from the languid exhaustion threatening to drag him under. Vic smoothed his thumb over the crease between Johnathan’s brows.
“You’re not even five minutes post orgasm and already thinking too hard. What’s churning in that head of yours, my pearl?”
Johnathan pursed his lips at that one. “Pearl? Honestly?” He gnawed the inside of his cheek. “This feels…imbalanced between us.”
Vic made a face at him. “You don’t need to measure sex with an abacus and ledger, John. There is no debt of pleasure you owe me.”
Turning on his side, Johnathan studied Vic’s expression, trying to find the right words to explain the worries that gnawed at him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Those silver-grey eyes watched him, glimmering in the lantern light. “Must I remind you I cannot divine your thoughts. Tell me what you mean.”
This was the difficult part. Words were never easy for him, and intimacy like this was a new unfamiliar world. Johnathan pulled the words forth, halting and hoarse. “You’re older. You have so much more…experience. How could I possibly measure up? I want to give you what you give to me, but I’m…afraid I can’t satisfy you.” Afraid to fail and offer nothing of worth.
A smile reclaimed his mouth during Johnathan’s stilted explanation. “My dear idiot, you aren’t the first virgin I’ve taken to my bed.” His fingers snagged in Johnathan’s hair, forcing his head back for a rough kiss. “I’m a patient man, John, and I eagerly await every attempt you wish to make.”
Johnathan scanned his face. Trembling, he reached toward Vic’s trousers. The other man caught his hand, lifting it up to kiss his knuckles.
“Much as I would love for this to continue, you do need rest,” said Vic. “This is just beginning between us. You do not have to push yourself to catch up.” He sat up, pulling the damp sheets up over Johnathan’s waist. “Our lovely attendant will bring up dinner soon. Try to claim a few hours while you can. I’ll wake you to eat.”
Johnathan’s eyelids dropped. Again, he hovered on the edge of sleep. His skin still hummed from Vic’s proximity. His consciousness fought to tip over an internal cliff. At some point, Vic left to secure a means of travel for the next leg of their journey and hopefully to feed. Despite his rather hale and hearty performance earlier and his insistence he was fine, Johnathan worried for the man. The warmth and comfort of the room let him float there, in between sleep and waking, until an awareness crashed into him.
Startled, Johnathan sat up in the empty room, his heart pounding in his chest. His senses were in overdrive. Not from panic, his pulse sang with an acute alertness. His claws flexed outward, shredding the sheets beneath him. Fire licked against his ribs, a dangerous stirring. His gaze snapped around the room, searching for what pricked at his nerves. A covered bowl of stew sat on the table, the tub still full of now tepid water. Johnathan’s nostrils flared. Vic’s scent was present but slightly faded, a sign he hadn’t been gone long.
Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Johnathan focused on what his senses told him. Another scent teased the air, one of sweet honey, burnt vanilla, and sex. His teeth clicked together. Worse, the scent grew stronger, and a terrible suspicion took root. Johnathan scrambled out of bed, yanking on his trousers and shirt in a clumsy stumble to the door. He yanked it open before he’d finished buttoning his shirt, inhaling the thick honey-sex scent that drenched the air. There was another scent, threaded deep within the enticing smell. It whispered of sulfur and flame.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Johnathan sidled along the wall, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. He’d have to find another pair of those dreadful goggles if he had any hope of blending in. The scent was even thicker here, tangible enough to taste.
The hour was late, but the room was plenty full of patrons, drinking and carousing. Surprising for a town this size, though the adjacent dock had to operate on long hours to accommodate incoming and outgoing trade. Johnathan’s gaze swept the room, moving over the grizzled visages of the men, weathered and wind burnt from hours exposed to the elements, and fastened on her.
She wound a sinuous path through the crowd, her trailing fingers stroking arms and shoulders. Every man she touched followed her with their gaze, a gleam of hunger in their eyes. Their gazes greedily drank in her generous curves, thinly cased in a scandalously thin gown, little more than a chemise. Her vast portions of bare skin were a rich brown, complimented by a scattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. A wave of blue-black curls fell to her tapered waist, swaying with the ‘come hither’ motion of her hips. One of the men said something to make her laugh, a deep, unfiltered sound, straight from the belly. Johnathan’s hackles rose. A silent snarl caught in his throat.
The woman paused, eyelids fluttering. Her gaze swept upward, catching his. Doe eyes widened; her scarlet pupils were dark enough to be mistaken for brown in the low light. She swallowed hard, giving the entrance of the inn a measuring glance before she pressed her shoulders back and sauntered over to Johnathan’s corner.
“Hello, love,” said the demon.