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There were certain things Stephen Day had never expected to hear from his best friend, Esther. He’d known her long enough to have quite the list compiled.
It’s perfectly fine that we have different filing systems, Stephen, I don’t expect you to use mine. No, I’m not mad you gave my twins ice cream at 10pm because you’re desperate to be their cool uncle. Of course, Steph, use my coffee cup when you can’t find your own, I won’t sit at stare daggers at you the entire time.
“You’re his sugar baby, Steph, aren’t you supposed to give him your dick with a bow wrapped around it as a birthday present?”
Well, that one hadn’t even been on the fucking list.
“ Es!” Stephen shrieked, scandalised enough to slop precious coffee on his trousers at this early hour of the morning.
Unconcerned, Esther shrugged, her eyes still on her computer screen like she hadn’t just given her best friend something to discuss with his therapist, flicking through the litany of emails on magical miscreancy the justiciary woke up to every morning, “I thought that was how this arrangement worked?”
Stephen spluttered. As tough as it had been keeping his...whatever you called his arrangement with Lucien secret from Esther, her knowing might be worse. Maybe worse than anything.
“I don’t...that’s not...please don’t ever reference my genitals in conversation again?”
“Fine,” Esther pulled a pencil from the bunch that roosted in her updo and scribbled something on a sticky note. From this angle Stephen could see the words ‘violent’ and ‘animated’ and ‘porcelain rabbits’. It went on the ‘deal with later’ side of her computer monitor, “But you have to admit that would be an easy birthday present.”
Stephen grunted and tapped the end of his pen on the stack of reports he was definitely meant to be signing off, “I don’t want to just get him something...y’know. Like that. I want to get Lucien something good for his birthday.”
Esther yawned, pushing her glasses up her face to rub at her eyes. Apparently the twins hadn’t been sleeping lately and Stephen could well believe it, looking at his friend. He really hoped Dan wasn’t performing any important surgeries today.
“But you don’t seem to have any actual ideas, Steph?” she sighed once she was done with her python-like yawn, “You were on about this last night and you’re still saying no to everything I suggest.”
“I know that!” Stephen huffed, rubbing the back of his neck and realising the tag had been sticking out of his jumper all the way to work, “But the man’s rolling in it, there’s literally nothing he can’t just buy if he wants to on a whim and we couldn’t be more different in terms of what we like…how do you get a gift for a man like that?”
Esther scribbled something else down. This went on the ‘deal with immediately' side. Stepehn saw the word ‘blood’.
“You don’t. And he told you not to. Yet here we are.”
Stephen sighed, pushing his hand through his hair, knowing he’d created a hundred more cowlicks. Esther had a point, as she often did. In fact Lucien had told him plainly, repeatedly, firmly that he wasn’t to get him anything for this birthday that coming Friday. He’d said it in his friend’s hearing when they’d all gone for a drink together last week (Stephen introducing Lucien as his friend in the most awkward way possible) and he’d even said it as Stephen had closed the door on the way out that morning. Almost like he’d seen what was going on behind his lover’s eyes.
But it wouldn’t do. Stephen couldn’t explain it, he didn’t want to look into it, he just knew it.
“Here we are,” he grunted, avoiding Esther’s eye.
There was a pause but he heard her sigh, heard her old chair squeak as she turned to face him.
“Look, water’s wet and Stephen Day is overthinking things,” she reached over and tapped his side of the desk so she knew he was listening, “Just think of something that shows you’ve listened to him. It doesn't need to be expensive or unique or anything like that. Just something that shows you see him.”
Stephen absorbed that in thoughtful silence, as Esther got back to actually doing their job. Slowly, steadily, he joined her, sinking into the drudgery their lives at the justiciary became in between the frantic moments of death defying horror. He uploaded incident reports from investigations they’d already done, he had blazing arguments with their Scotland Yard liaisons in exaggeratedly polite email speak, he mapped out their next few days of visits to individuals who’d drawn a little too much attention or events that couldn’t be explained by ordinary practice.
Eventually, after a few hours of barely speaking, Stephen cleared his throat and said casually, “Can we make a stop on the way back from lunch? Just want to pick something up in Covent Garden.”
A smile flickered across Esther’s lips, “Sure...hey, Steph?”
“Hm?” his voice was muffled by his coffee as he took a long pull. It was now ice cold but he wouldn’t be in this job if he cared about such trivial things.
“Forgive my ignorance,” she hummed, “but is it normal to care this much about your gift for a guy who, you’ve assured me repeatedly, is just someone who pays your rent in exchange for sex?”
Stephen opened his mouth, already shaped into indignance and retort, ready to smartly put her in her place. Esther raised her eyebrows expectantly, tilting her head.
And after a few moments, Stephen closed his mouth.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
Lucien had travelled around the world and he’d brought the tastes back with him to London. One of the stipulations in their contract was that he would always pick the restaurant if they went out for food, on one of their dates that weren’t quite dates. Of course Stephen could win him around to his way of thinking and would, shamelessly, if he was in the mood for something particular. But mostly it was more fun to let Lucien drag him to these tiny holes in the wall that had three things on the menu from the other side of the globe, to these places where you were talking above the roar of fires three feet from you, to places where he wasn’t sure how to even begin eating what they put in front of him.
For someone who’s idea of putting effort into dinner was sitting at the kitchen table to eat his boxed macaroni cheese rather than his desk, it had been interesting to say the least.
Tonight, in deference to his birthday, they found themselves in an old favourite. They ate dim sum at a tiny little corner cafe in Soho, with formica tables and flickering lights, operated by an ancient looking Chinese woman who hugged Lucien when he walked in and called him a Mandarin word that Lucien had admitted meant ‘beanpole’. Fortunately, she apparently called him just ‘red’.
They sat in their creaking red leather booth, drinking bottles of Chinese beer and eating potstickers, swapping stories of their days, teasing each other, making each other laugh, as London quietly gathered night around itself. All in all, it was one of the nights Stephen was still struggling to believe actually belonged in his life now, it hadn’t fallen out of some fantasy romance novel people self published on Amazon and had photos of shirtless men on the badly photoshopped cover. He could actually reach over and touch Lucien’s hand, he could taste black vinegar and sesame oil on his tongue, he could hear conversations around them in languages he didn’t know. It was unfamiliar and ridiculous and amazing.
“So. Back to my place?”
Lucien’s voice jolted Stephen out of his disbelief. He realised the plates between them were empty- mostly thanks to him- and their second bottles were empty. Night had fully settled outside the glaring strip lights and his...his Lucien was looking at him like he wanted them to go home right this second.
Stephen grinned back, “That eager for your present, hm?”
Lucien’s eyebrows shot up, his smile turning crooked, “Well. It’s only my birthday for another two hours. We’d better hurry.”
Stephen knew Lucien loved to drive but there was no sense in it when you lived in the centre of London. They took a black cab, Lucien’s dinner suit was completely inappropriate for the tube, about as inappropriate as it had been for a side street Chinese restaurant, but he’d maintained that food so good deserved a little effort. That and, after Stephen had mentioned being underground and surrounded by iron tracks and tunnels made him feel vaguely ill, Lucien had been paying for cabs after all of their dates. He’d not said that was why, using his clothes as an excuse, but Stephen had noticed.
Lucien lived in some truly ridiculous mansion flats in Westminster, old Victorian grandeur and opulence that had been carefully maintained so it was like stepping into a piece of history. Lucien had always said that was what he liked about it. Well, he’d said that he enjoyed screwing blokes on surfaces from a time when doing that would have landed him in jail. Basically the same thing.
So the rickety cage of an elevator and the lavish wallpaper and marbled panels were all from another time but there were the usual modernities of course, making the apartment itself a distinctly interesting place to be. There were so many pieces of Lucien’s travels, silk paintings from China and wood carvings from Indonesia and Japanese pots repaired with gold dust. There were sleek, silver home appliances of the highest quality that Stephen got into frequent arguments with trying to get them to work. There were walls composed entirely of bookcases, filled with books on finance and histories of Asia and guidebooks, a wardrobe with more pocket squares than Stephen had known existed in the world, let alone that one man could own. It was lavish without being ostentatious, old fashioned without being a museum, mismatched without being cluttered. It was a world away from Stephen’s poky studio flat and he was slowly becoming used to being part of it all.
It helped that, as he stepped into it, he was immediately swept into Lucien’s arms and kissed hard enough to bruise. Stephen laughed against his lover’s lips, finding it hard to care that he was being thrown around like a ragdoll when it lit such a fire in his belly, such a desire to lean into it. Only with Lucien.
Because his legs were slung over his lover’s arm, he didn’t feel them hit the sofa, only felt the stomach churning lurch as they went over. And then they were just laughing, clutching each other, a tangle of limbs trembling in a fit of giggles, kisses as messy punctuation.
“It is your birthday,” Stephen murmured, vaguely aware that he had one leg thrown over the back of this very expensive sofa but finding it hard to care, “So you get whatever you want.”
“I always get what I want with you, sweet boy,” Lucien’s eyes flashed, like lightning on his cloud grey eyes, knowing it would send a jolt straight to Stephen’s cock, “But I take your meaning…”
Stephen felt himself shift again, glad he wasn’t prone to motion sickness, as he was carried to the enormous bed in his lover’s arms. As they went, he directed the ether like fingers, undoing buttons and zips and lifting shoes away so they left a trail of fabric behind them, so they were naked by the time soft silk hit their backs. The council very much disapproved of frivolous magic use but, by god, it was useful.
Lucien licked into his mouth, gasping, “I want you to ride me, sweet boy. I want to see your face when I come inside you.”
Stephen didn’t bite down on his whimper, he knew Lucien loved to hear it, to hear his surprise at the filthy things he’d say, the surprise he couldn’t shake after months of their arrangement. He didn’t hide his eagerness either, as he moved quickly, climbing onto his long limbed lover as he rolled back for him, languid and content as a cat. His cock was an iron bar against the small of Stephen’s back, betraying the eagerness he carried too, behind his lazy grin.
“Will you get me ready, my lord?” he shamelessly put on a pout, knowing his kiss bruised lips would look good in the low light.
Lucien’s raised eyebrow was teasing, heavy with that cruelty he liked to use as playfully as he used any of the many sex toys he owned and had made Stephen’s acquaintance, “How is this my gift if I have to do all the work, sweet boy?”
Stephen said nothing, just batted his eyelashes and felt a thrill he kept well off his face when Lucien rolled his eyes and reached for the lube on the bedside table. Since he’d taken up with Stephen, he hadn’t bothered putting it away anymore.
“You’re so good to me, my lord,” was all he whimpered, simpering in a way that would have made him want to curl up and die until he’d send that first message to Lucien. Now it just ran a pleasurable shiver up his spine that started where Lucien’s now slick fingers touched his skin and lit up his nerves. Stephen dropped whatever of his walls might still have remained, letting everything he felt as those fingers pressed into him show nakedly on his face. He let the moans pour heedlessly from his lips, he let his face tighten, he let his whole body shudder, nothing held back or hidden.
It didn’t need to be with Lucien.
Stephen could have sobbed when those fingers withdrew, if his lover hadn’t pressed his free hand to his chest and steadied him, “You’re just ready, sweet boy. You’re ready to take me.”
Stephen nodded, shifting, raising his hips so Lucien could guide the tip of his cock into him. When he felt that first sting and stretch, he couldn’t hold back the gritted teeth and the high whine, so Lucien took his waist and guided him through it, leading him past it until everything was perfect.
The rest was simple, just chasing down their release. Stephen threw himself into it with reckless abandon, bouncing so hard the curls not stuck to his face with sweat rocked and swayed, suspended like he was underwater. Lucien lost his composure pretty damn quick too, gasping every time the tide of their movement drew him up to the hilt, swears and sweetness in a mix of languages pulled from his chest like treasures. Stephen splayed his hands on his lover’s broad chest, the ink there already taking flight as if activated by his electric touch.
“God,” he felt tightness everywhere, it was a miracle he got the words out of his chest, wound as tight as he was, “My lord, I’m there, I’m- fuck.”
Lucien paused his transatlantic, transpacific tirade to groan, “Yes, sweet boy, come on, I’ve got you, you’re mine, all mine…”
Whether it was the words or he’d just taken as much as he could, Stephen didn’t know and didn’t care to untangle it. He just came, blindingly hard, painting Lucien’s chest with white where there used to be white, black and blue. And then, a second later, he almost came again as he felt Lucien spill inside him, so deep it felt like it was somewhere in his stomach, a bright, earthy warmth like he’d just swallowed whiskey. He felt the rawness in his throat of a loud cry but didn’t remember making it.
“Lucien…” he gasped, casting about for him, feeling a slight disconnect between his brain and his body.
“Here,” strong arms wrapped around him, drawing him in, supporting him as he slumped bonelessly across Lucien’s chest, heedless of the mess and the slick sensation of them uncoupling, “Right here…”
Stephen felt strong fingers stroking the shorter curls at the nape of his neck, that contact enough to ground him again, that and the rapid thudding of their heartbeats, just a few inches of skin and bone apart. A few moments like that and he was himself again.
“So,” he rasped, before he had a chance to think too hard on how much he liked being there, “Would you like your present now?”
Lucien’s fingers jolted a little in surprise, “That wasn’t it?”
“I never said it was,” Stephen chuckled, kissing Lucien’s chest and tasting salt, “You just assumed. Give me a second.”
“Tricky little witch,” Lucien sat up as Stephen climbed off, going for the bag he’d left over in the living room, legs a little wobbly but they remembered how to do their job by the time he was on the return journey, now holding a badly wrapped square in his hands.
“I told you not to get me anything,” Lucien sighed, though there was an undeniable curiosity in his eyes, the look of someone who’d always been denied as a boy, who got very few treats early in his life, who couldn’t help but be a little excited at the sight of one with his name on it.
“You told me not to spend much,” Stephen corrected, climbing back into bed. The apartment was old and hard to heat, he pulled the covers over himself briskly, Lucien slipping under to join him.
“You better not have,” Lucien warned, “That’s not how this arrangement works, you know.”
“Promise. You can check with Esther if you don’t believe me, she was there. And, uh, sorry about the wrapping paper, it was all she had in the house left over from the twin’s birthday party. And the quality of the wrapping too, that was the twins. They wanted to help.”
Lucien only smiled fondly as he took the square, wrapped shoddily in cheery princess themed paper. He’d met Esther and Dan’s kids, when Stephen had gotten muddled after a punishing week at work and double booked himself for both babysitting and a night with his sugar daddy, another situation he never believed he’d find himself in. But Lucien had only held his hands up and asked how he could help. Inside of half an hour, Joseph and Sarah had been colouring in the cutthroat trader’s tattoos with felt tips and calling him Lucie.
“Thank them for me,” Lucien chuckled, running his thumb under the sticky tape and unfolding the wrinkled paper carefully, Stephen hovering anxiously at his elbow as it was revealed, “Wait…”
Stephen bit his lip, suddenly hit with the realisation that his gift must seem small and silly, lying there in it’s ridiculous paper, with it’s battered edges and wrinkled pages. He’d found it quite easily in his favourite second hand bookstore in Covent Garden, there was a whole section of these cheesy 80s adventure novels. Stephen had just chosen one with the most exciting painted cover, the one whose back cover had proclaimed loudest about swashbuckling archeologists and ancient secrets and hidden treasures. It couldn’t look more different from the other books on Lucien’s shelves, all leather bound and full of charts and numbers and facts.
Suddenly all he wanted to do was snatch it back and laugh that it had all been a joke, to quickly think of something exciting he could do in bed to claim was his actual present. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to come up with a bow to wrap around his dick on such short notice but at least he’d be in his proper place.
“Um, listen, it was just a silly idea, you don’t have to actually keep it-” his sudden nerves took hold of his mouth and ran away with it, fingers clutching the blanket.
“Are you kidding me?” Lucien’s voice froze the climbing panic, with it’s soft awe, softer than his voice ever got, “Stephen, this is..it’s incredible…”
Stephen’s mouth opened and closed in shock, unsure what to say to that. Because his brain was a bit of an arse sometimes, what he eventually came up with was, “It was two pound fifty?”
Fortunately, Lucien laughed, turning the pocket sized novel over in his hands like it was something truly precious, “You remembered me saying how much I liked books like this when I was a kid. I only mentioned it once and you remembered.”
Stephen paused, his face softening. Of course he’d remembered. It really had just been an offhand comment, when they’d been doing the general kind of chatting that goes on over early dates even when they’re not actually dates. Lucien had confessed a guilty love of cheesy adventure novels, poorly written but somehow captivating for all that, how he’d read them as a child and let them carry him to other places. That sometimes, on his own travels, he’d found himself even at thirty five feeling like the tanned, smirking protagonists of those novels and grinned at himself.
But Stephen was a perceptive man, it was part of his job. And he didn’t just hear they carried me to other places. He heard what hadn’t been said but lurked just behind it in the hollow of his lover’s throat, he heard the because I didn’t want to be where I was. And he knew fine well that Lucien’s travels hadn’t started off as his own idea.
So he had remembered when Lucien said those books meant a lot to him. And now, looking at his strange lover’s face, he was so glad he had.
Something that shows you see him.
Lucien’s arms came around him so fast he almost had the wind knocked out of him. He laughed softly, hugging him back gratefully.
“Thank you, Stephen,” his voice was lower and rougher than usual and, if he was trying to protect himself, Stephen would tell himself it was just from the sex, but he was kind of past protecting himself today, “This is honestly the best gift I think I’ve ever gotten. Just...thank you.”
Stephen felt the truth in his words, holding it protectively, as he pressed his face to Lucien’s bare shoulder, the magpies fluttering between them. And he thought back on what Esther had asked him with that irritating and scary perceptiveness she had, if it was normal to feel this way about someone who was only supposed to be the man who paid you for sex.
It really wasn’t. And Stephen wasn’t sure what to do about that.
But for now Lucien’s arms were tight around him, tight and warm and so safe. And that was all he could bring himself to care about right now.
Stephen just told that part of his brain to shut up.