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1.
“Morning, gorgeous,” Jesper murmurs, as Wylan stirs and blinks his eyes open. He stretches like a contented cat and shifts closer to Jesper, resting his head on his chest.
“Good morning yourself.” He drapes an arm over Jesper’s stomach, fingers idly tapping out a melody. Their relationship is still relatively new, and Wylan had been worried that whatever was between them would quickly fizzle out, but instead it’s done the opposite, blooming into something wonderful, especially now that Wylan has moved into the Slat permanently.
He loves falling asleep with Jesper beside him every night and waking up tangled up with him every morning, the easy way they work together both professionally and privately. He loves the way they already know each other so well, the way they can tell what the other is thinking with just a glance (although the thought is usually something that shouldn’t be said in public). He loves the way Jesper looks at him, touches him, kisses him.
Wylan tilts his head up, seeking a kiss, and Jesper is never one to turn him down. Jesper cups Wylan’s face in one hand and kisses him slowly, sweetly, like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, and Wylan melts into it. He lets Jesper gently roll him onto his back and press him down into the mattress, their kiss turning into something a little more heated.
“Something on your mind?” Wylan teases, as Jesper settles between his legs, their bodies slotting together. There’s no mistaking exactly what Jesper is thinking about.
Jesper grins and kisses him again. “With you? Always.”
Wylan can’t help but laugh, because that much is certainly true. It’s frequently a struggle for them to keep their hands off each other in public, let alone naked in bed together.
“Insatiable,” he mutters fondly, sliding his hands up Jesper’s chest to rest on the nape of his neck.
“It’s your fault. Saints, Wylan, the things you do to me…”
“I am well aware of what I do to you,” says Wylan, pointedly hooking a leg around Jesper’s waist and drawing him closer.
Jesper groans softly and leans down to kiss along Wylan’s jaw, down his neck, over the hollow of his throat. Tangling his fingers into Jesper’s hair, Wylan tugs him back up and claims his mouth again, pressing his hips up against Jesper’s and sighing softly as their cocks brush against each other. Jesper is hard already, and Wylan is well on his way, and he loves this too, loves knowing just how much Jesper wants him, desires him.
He is about to ask Jesper where their bottle of oil has gotten to when the door to their bedroom is unceremoniously flung open.
“Meeting, now.” Kaz stands in their doorway, impervious as always.
“I thought we agreed you would stop picking the lock and just knock instead? You know, like a normal person?” Jesper doesn’t even bother trying to hide the irritation in his voice.
“You ignore it if I knock.”
“Usually for a good reason.” Jesper gestures vaguely at his position, where Wylan lies blushing underneath him, covering his face with his hands.
“Good morning, Wylan,” says Kaz. “Downstairs. Preferably put some clothes on first.” With that, he turns on his heel and heads downstairs.
Jesper reluctantly untangles himself from Wylan’s limbs and gets up to slam the door shut. “Next time I’m sealing the hinges,” he grumbles to himself as he searches for his clothes.
Wylan drags himself out of the warmth of their bed with a sigh that causes Jesper to turn and wink at him. “There’s always tonight, love.”
“It had better be worth the wait,” Wylan says, finally locating his trousers and pulling them on.
Jesper steps closer to him, runs his hands down Wylan’s sides. “Isn’t it always?” He crowds into Wylan’s space and leans down to kiss him. It does absolutely nothing to help Wylan’s current situation.
Their lips still firmly locked, Wylan turns them to back Jesper up against the wardrobe. He kisses him hungrily, dirtily, until Jesper is panting into his mouth. Only then does Wylan draw away to resume getting dressed.
“You’re a fucking tease.” Jesper peels himself away from the wardrobe. “And I’m leaving now before I end up throwing you back on that bed.”
“You know I’d let you,” says Wylan, pulling on his shoes, and he grins as he hears Jesper chuckle on his way down the stairs.
There’s always tonight.
2.
After the meeting, Kaz sends Jesper and Nina to the Stadhall to follow a mercher he suspects isn’t only dealing in grain. Inej heads to West Stave and the pleasure houses to speak to some of the girls there and Matthias offers to go with her. He knows Inej is more than capable of looking after herself, but he doesn’t feel right letting her go alone. Wylan isn’t needed for anything, so he gives Jesper a brief kiss goodbye and then settles himself into the side room at the Slat that is currently serving as his makeshift workshop. He works all day, interrupted only by Rotty bringing him some food around lunchtime. He’s been working on a new chemical that can be sprayed as an aerosol or slipped into a drink to make a target fall asleep, perfectly mimicking the feel and work of a heartrender.
It’s dark by the time Jesper returns, knocking on the door to the workshop to announce his arrival. Wylan is easily startled when he’s engrossed in his work, and Jesper would really prefer that he kept all of his fingers.
Standing behind Wylan where he sits hunched over the table, he presses a kiss to Wylan’s cheek.
“We’re having some drinks over at the Crow Club. I may have bet Matthias that I could beat him at darts so I need you to come and be my good luck charm.”
“Bet him what, exactly?” Wylan asks, carefully replacing the stopper on a bottle and turning on his stool to look up at Jesper.
“Just a drink, nothing major. I’m being good,” Jesper says with a grin.
Wylan rolls his eyes. “Fine, let me tidy up here and we can go.”
Jesper tucks himself in a corner out of the way while Wylan diligently cleans up his workspace. He knows better by now than to get in the way, so he waits, twirling his guns and chatting about his day, until Wylan is ready to leave.
-
They walk hand in hand over to the Crow Club, collars turned up against the chill in the air. They find Nina, Matthias, Raske, Pim and a few others gathered by one of the dartboards.
“We were beginning to think you’d chickened out,” Nina teases Jesper as they shrug out of their jackets and say their hellos.
“No chance. I’m not going to miss out on Helvar having to buy me a drink.”
Wylan can’t help but grin at Jesper’s cockiness. He’s glad that they agreed on such a low-stakes bet, although Matthias almost certainly knows better than to agree to any real type of gambling with Jesper. Both Kaz and Wylan have made it very clear that they won’t tolerate Jesper running up any more debt, and to his credit Jesper has stuck to his promise.
“Get me a drink, love,” Jesper says, snapping Wylan out of his thoughts.
“Thought I was here for moral support,” Wylan grins, but he heads to the bar anyway.
Jesper and Matthias have started their match when he returns with their drinks, so he perches himself on the table the group have taken over and chats with Pim about his work. Pim works as a bruiser for the Dregs, but he’s passable at demo and has been picking up a few things from Wylan.
“No cheating either,” says Matthias, lining up his throw. “Don’t fabrikate the darts.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jesper replies with a grin.
Wylan can’t help but watch him. He cuts quite a figure in his three-piece suit; the red and purple checked pattern practically subdued for him. He’s loosened his tie and undone the top button of his shirt, exposing the hollow of his throat. Wylan wants to press his face to it, unbutton the rest of his shirt and rip it off him.
Wylan swallows thickly, desperately trying to focus on his conversation with Pim, and hopes that Jesper and Matthias’ competition is over quickly.
-
Jesper manages to scrape a victory, and Matthias grudgingly shakes his hand before sitting down next to Nina to lick his wounds. Pim and Raske start their own game as Jesper sidles up to where Wylan is still perched on the edge of the table.
“Congratulations on your win,” Wylan says.
Jesper grins and nudges Wylan’s legs apart so he can stand between them. Wylan feels his cheeks flush at the position but Jesper only smirks.
“I’ll take that drink any time, Helvar,” Jesper calls over his shoulder, and the Fjerdan grumbles in response. Turning back to Wylan, he presses closer. “I caught you staring. Something catch your eye?”
Wylan rolls his eyes in response, but rests his hands on Jesper’s hips anyway. “You. Always you.”
“Hmm,” says Jesper in mock thoughtfulness. He brushes a stray strand of hair out of Wylan’s eyes then slides his hand to the nape of his neck. “But what specifically?”
Wylan licks his lips subconsciously, too many options springing to mind. The way Jesper’s suit clings to the hard planes of his body, the smooth line of his neck when he throws his head back with laughter, the look of steely concentration when he lines up his throw.
He says none of those things. Instead, he hooks the tips of his fingers into the front of Jesper’s trousers and tugs him closer, looking up at him from under dark lashes.
“You want me to tell you what I was thinking about?” Wylan breathes, his fingers slowly untucking Jesper’s shirt from his trousers.
Jesper leans in, his lips tantalisingly close. “Yeah, I really do.” His voice is scarcely above a whisper.
“I was thinking about how badly I want to tear this shirt off you so I can get my hands on your skin.” The shirt now fully untucked, Wylan lets his fingertips creep up underneath it, scratching his nails lightly through the trail of hair on Jesper’s stomach.
“Go on…” Jesper urges, his eyes darkening.
“Oh I think you can use your imagination,” says Wylan, drawing away with a grin and removing his hand.
But Jesper doesn’t let him go. He tangles his fingers into Wylan’s hair and brings their mouths together in a searing kiss. He swipes his tongue over Wylan’s lips until he parts them, then licks insistently into his mouth. Feeling heat pooling between his legs, Wylan whimpers quietly into Jesper’s mouth.
“Get a room, lovebirds!” Nina shouts and they reluctantly part, both breathing heavily.
Jesper tries, unsuccessfully, to rearrange his trousers. “Come with me,” he says, dragging Wylan up off the table and hurrying him towards the back of the club.
Jesper ushers him through a side door by the bar and toward a locked door, busy fiddling with something in his hands.
“I think it’s locked,” Wylan says, but Jesper only gives him a look before shoving a key at him. “You fabrikated this?”
“Obviously.”
Wylan unlocks the door and they stumble into a room piled high with crates and boxes. “Did you fabrikate this so we could have sex in a storage room?”
“No, I fabrikated it so we could have a nice nap instead,” Jesper says, kicking the door closed and pinning Wylan up against the wall.
“We could just go back to the Slat.” Even Wylan is unconvinced by his own statement.
Jesper huffs a laugh. “Saints, Wylan, I’m not going to make it as far as the Slat.”
Wylan groans, letting his head fall back against the wall, and Jesper takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss along Wylan’s jaw, sucking a mark high on his neck.
Desire shoots down Wylan’s spine and straight to his cock. “Everyone will know what we’ve been doing.” The idea secretly thrills him.
“They know anyway.” Jesper kisses up to Wylan’s lips, sliding his hands down Wylan’s chest and round to grab his arse. In one swift movement, he lifts Wylan up off the floor.
“Oh fuck.” Wylan wraps his legs tightly around Jesper’s waist, moaning softly as the movement brings their groins together. The feel of Jesper’s obvious arousal sends heat pooling deep in Wylan’s stomach, and he can’t help but grind against him.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Jesper breathes between kisses. “You drive me crazy.”
Wylan doesn’t reply, focusing instead on finally unbuttoning Jesper’s shirt. Shoving it open, his hands skim over Jesper’s warm, flushed skin, down to the buckle of his trousers. Despite the slightly awkward position and the way their bodies are crushed together, Wylan manages to loosen Jesper’s trousers just enough to get a hand inside and palms at his cock.
Jesper curses loudly, his fingers digging in to Wylan’s skin where he holds him. He presses his face against Wylan’s neck, sucking a mark and then soothing the sting with his tongue.
“You want to come?” Wylan asks, wriggling his hand until he manages to wrap his fingers around Jesper’s throbbing cock.
“Saints,” Jesper gasps, pressing into Wylan’s hand. “Yes, please…”
“If I get you off now, do you promise to make it up to me later?” Wylan slides a hand up to tangle into Jesper’s hair, jerking him off slowly with his other hand.
Jesper groans, his face still buried in Wylan’s neck. “Anything, anything you want…”
Wylan feels Jesper trembling. He opens his mouth, about to take pity on him and ask to blow him when the door to the storage room opens and light comes flooding in. There’s a sigh, and the sound of a cane tapping insistently on the floor. Wylan quickly withdraws his hand and Jesper all but whines.
“Wylan, I need you to expedite your work on that chemical. Can you finish it tonight?”
Jesper finally lifts his head to glare at Kaz, silhouetted in the doorway. “Can it wait?”
“No. Please put Wylan down. I need him.”
“You’re a prick, you know that?” Reluctantly, Jesper lets Wylan slide to the floor.
“And worse. I’ll be outside.” Kaz turns and leaves, and Jesper glares at the back of his retreating figure.
“I swear he’s doing it on purpose,” he mutters, taking a step away from Wylan as they both try to rearrange their clothes.
Wylan sighs. “I made good progress today, hopefully I won’t be too long.” He leans up to give Jesper a brief kiss. “I’ll see you later.” Smoothing his hands over his rumpled shirt one final time, he too leaves the storage room.
Jesper takes a few deep breaths, preparing himself for the onslaught of jibes he’ll surely get from his friends. He really hopes that Wylan is true to his word and doesn’t keep him waiting too long.
3.
“I’m going to kill him,” Jesper says, stepping into the club and glancing around.
The club is new, bordering on Dregs territory, and the fresh-faced gang running it have caught the eye of Dirtyhands.
“I knew there was something he wasn’t telling us, that skiv…” Jesper continues. Beside him, Wylan has turned a very appealing shade of pink.
“He said it was an event,” Wylan hisses. “I thought this kind of thing only happened in the pleasure houses.”
Jesper barks a laugh. “Wylan, this kind of thing happens all over the Barrel if you know where to go.”
His laugh draws the attention of two men tangled together nearby. The shorter of the two men shoots Jesper a flirty look, and Jesper feels Wylan bristle beside him. He wraps an arm around Wylan’s waist and leads them over to a free booth.
“We should just leave,” Wylan mutters, averting his eyes as they pass another couple who are extremely busy with their tongues in each other’s mouths. He lets Jesper manoeuvre him into the booth.
“We can’t leave, we’ve got a job to do. We’ll just sit here and have a few drinks, see if any of the bosses show up and then go, okay?”
“I’m going to need something stronger than beer.”
“Stay right there,” says Jesper with a wink, and disappears off to the bar.
Wylan tries very hard not to look at the table across from him, where a man is kneeling on the floor, his head between a blonde woman’s legs. Her skirts are preserving most of her modesty - if modesty even matters in a place like this - but there’s no mistaking the noises she’s making.
Mercifully, Jesper soon returns with two glasses of Kaelish whisky. He seems somehow unaffected by the activity going on around him.
“De Vries is apparently a big fan of these events,” he says, sliding into the booth beside Wylan. “The bartender let slip that he wants to hold them once a week.”
“Kaz won't be happy if he starts leeching business from the Crow Club. And I like to think that even Kaz would draw a line at…” Wylan gestures at the bodies around them. “This.”
“No, he’d much rather con people out of their money with cards,” Jesper agrees, looping an arm around Wylan’s shoulders.
The two men from earlier stumble past, heading towards one of the back rooms. Wylan drinks another large mouthful of his whisky and tries not to think about how long it’s been since he spent any time with Jesper outside of work for the Dregs.
“Do you think De Vries will cause trouble?” Wylan asks in an effort to focus his mind on something else.
Jesper shrugs. “Hard to say. He’s not new to the Barrel but seems to think that Kaz isn’t a threat. We’ll see how that works out for him.”
Wylan hums noncommittally and leans against Jesper’s side. He smells incredible, of woodsmoke from the open fire at the Slat and the soap they share.
Across from them, the blonde woman has now crawled onto her lover’s lap, moving her hips in a way that leaves absolutely no doubts as to what they’re doing.
Jesper downs the remainder of his drink and gestures at Wylan’s almost empty glass. “Another?”
“Please,” says Wylan, eyes fixed on the table and not on the woman who is becoming more and more vocal. He studies the grain of the wood, idly traces watermarks and beer stains with his fingertips as Jesper extracts himself from their booth and disappears to the bar again.
The blonde woman slides off of her partner and collapses into the chair beside him, chest heaving under her corset. Wylan glances up, his eyes seeking Jesper, and finds him still at the bar talking with a pretty girl with red hair. Jealousy flares in Wylan’s chest. He shouldn’t be surprised really, flirting at a bar was exactly how Jesper had gotten Wylan into his bed after all. The sight of it still stings, though.
Wylan watches Jesper wink at the red-headed girl then head back to the booth, two glasses in his hands.
“If looks could kill…” Jesper places one of the glasses in front of Wylan and takes his seat again. “Are you jealous?”
Jesper, the infuriating bastard, has the audacity to grin at him.
“You were flirting!” Wylan says through gritted teeth. He takes a sip of his drink and replaces his glass on the table a little too forcefully.
“Wy… Wylan, look at me.”
Wylan refuses to, intently studying the table again. There’s a stain of something that could be red wine, but is more likely blood, on one of the corners. He wonders if the table is made of oak or mahogany.
Jesper cups Wylan’s jaw with one hand and tilts his chin up, forcing Wylan to look at him.
“She’s one of the gang members.”
“Oh.” He feels his cheeks flush, and lets his eyes slide back to the table. He thinks it’s mahogany.
“Yes, oh.” Jesper runs his thumb over Wylan’s cheek. “You know I only want you.”
Wylan’s eyes flicker up to meet Jesper’s impossibly tender gaze again and he swallows thickly.
Jesper leans forwards and kisses him gently, almost chastely, and Wylan is having absolutely none of it. He slides a hand to the back of Jesper’s head and kisses him harder, barely managing to conceal the jealousy still bubbling under the surface, the desperation he feels.
“Tell me that you’re mine,” he says, nipping at Jesper’s lower lip. He sounds hideously possessive but he doesn’t care. He needs to hear it.
Jesper shoves at the table to create some space and tugs at Wylan until he crawls into his lap, his knees bracketing Jesper’s waist.
“Tell me,” Wylan says, almost pleading with him, his fingers tangling into the tight curls at the nape of Jesper’s neck.
“I’m yours.”
Wylan surges forward to kiss him again. He forgets that they’re in public - not that it would matter anyway at this particular event - and that they’re meant to be working, all he can think of is Jesper. Saints, he’s missed him. They’ve been so busy during the daytime and so tired by the time they fall into bed that all they’ve managed is a brief kiss goodnight before falling asleep.
Now all he wants is to kiss him and press their bodies together until they’re both hard and aching, to drag Jesper to bed and then take him apart piece by piece.
Jesper groans softly into Wylan’s mouth, holding his face with one hand while the other drops lower, between his legs, to palm at his rapidly hardening cock.
“Jesper…” Wylan says, a note of warning in his voice. “We’re in public…”
“Yeah, at a fucking sex party, who’s going to notice me touching you like this?”
Wylan wants to protest, really should protest in fact, but the idea of it turns him on far more than he’d like to admit. Jesper is right, no one would notice or even care if he let Jesper rub his cock through his trousers until he came, wouldn’t bat an eye if Jesper dropped to his knees and sucked him off right there.
“You’re a terrible influence,” he says, but he doesn’t move Jesper’s hand away.
A wicked grin spreads across Jesper’s face. “Darling, you knew that already.”
He tugs Wylan in for another kiss, hand already busy between his legs again. Wylan keens and presses closer to him, hips rocking slightly against the friction of Jesper’s hand, heat lapping at his insides.
“Didn’t know you were so into this kind of thing,” Jesper murmurs, and his voice is low and dangerous. “I’d have taken advantage of it much sooner.”
A quiet, desperate noise escapes the back of Wylan’s throat as he tries desperately not to think about Jesper making good on that particular promise. He nips at Jesper’s bottom lip until it’s red and swollen, then draws away to admire his handiwork, catching Jesper’s eye and finding a mischievous glint there.
They stare at each other, Wylan’s head spiralling with thoughts of dark alleys and storage rooms, Jesper’s hand a constant, dizzying pressure on his aching cock.
“Hey, don’t I know you?” A man, drink in hand and already staggering a bit, is squinting at Jesper.
Wylan quickly slides off Jesper’s lap, feeling his cheeks flame, as Jesper eyes up the man.
“You must be mistaken, I don’t think we’ve met before,” says Jesper, all charm and good humour, but Wylan sees his eyes dart to the door. They weren’t supposed to be recognised here.
“Nah, I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere…”
Their conversation is drawing more interest now, the man’s booming, slurred voice interrupting the patrons and their activities. Wylan slowly reaches into his pocket, hand closing around one of his emergency flash bombs.
Realisation dawns on the man’s face. “Yeah that’s it, you’re Brekker’s sharpshooter ain’t you?”
Wylan taps Jesper’s hand with the little code they’ve devised, counts down inside his head. When he reaches zero, he throws the bomb and they both cover their eyes as brilliant white light explodes around them.
The man cries out, temporarily blinded and it’s enough for Wylan and Jesper to dart out of the club and down a few side alleys until they’re sure that there’s no one behind him.
They both lean back against the wall, glancing sideways at each other, and burst into peals of laughter.
4.
Jesper looks up with a smile at the sound of Wylan entering the kitchen. “Morning, sleepyhead. I was just going to make coffee and bring some to you.”
He pours the beans into the grinder as Wylan crosses the kitchen and gives him a quick kiss.
“Have you been awake long?” Wylan asks.
“Only an hour or so. You seemed pretty out of it, so I thought I’d let you sleep.”
“Must be all that fresh Novyi Zem air you keep telling me about,” says Wylan with a grin, hopping up onto the kitchen counter and watching Jesper as he grinds the coffee beans. “Where’s your da?”
“He’s gone to the market,” Jesper says, adding water to the ground beans and lighting the stove.
He turns to smile up at Wylan, who tugs him closer by the nape of his neck and presses their lips together. With Wylan on the counter, he’s a little taller than Jesper, and Jesper has to stretch to reach Wylan’s mouth. It’s a novel feeling.
He slides his hands up under Wylan’s shirt to rest on his waist, his skin still warm and soft from sleep. Jesper desperately wishes that they were anywhere else right now. On the ship to Novyi Zem he’d told Wylan how small his father’s house was, how thin the walls were, and they’d both reluctantly agreed to keep their hands off each other, but it had been a losing battle right from the start.
Wylan presses closer, arching into Jesper’s touch, a soft noise escaping the back of his throat.
Saints, if only they were somewhere else, somewhere more private where they could be alone together. Somewhere with no interruptions, no one knocking on their door or barging in on them, no schemes or heists or trouble calling their names.
Jesper never thought he’d want to leave his life of chaos behind, could never imagine wanting to build a life, a home, with someone, but Wylan changed all of that. He’s better than the brightest piece of Barrel flash, better than the feeling of winning every game of cards, better than the adrenaline of a really, really good fight.
“Everything alright?” Wylan asks, drawing away from him.
“Yeah, I…” Jesper huffs a laugh. “I’m just really fucking in love with you.”
He is rewarded with a dazzling grin.
“Say it again,” Wylan says, running a thumb over Jesper’s cheek.
Jesper turns his head to kiss Wylan’s palm, unable to drag his gaze away from Wylan’s wide, dark eyes. “I’m really fucking in love with you.”
“Again.”
Their faces are inches apart. Jesper can feel Wylan’s breath tickling his cheek.
“I’m-”
Wylan surges forward and closes the gap between them. The kiss is messy, quickly growing heated as Jesper pulls Wylan to the edge of the counter and brings their bodies together. Wylan groans, tangling his fingers into Jesper’s hair and presses his hips against Jesper’s. Jesper can feel him growing hard, and it sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine to know that he is the one that makes Wylan feel this way.
“Exactly how firm are you on not fucking me in your childhood bed?” Wylan asks when they part to breathe.
“Rapidly becoming less so,” Jesper says, his own cock starting to throb in his trousers.
Wylan hums in approval and kisses him again, grinding against Jesper’s obvious interest.
They really should stop, Jesper thinks, before he ends up tearing Wylan’s clothes off and taking him right here on the kitchen counter. If they had their own place they could do this wherever and whenever they liked. Images flood Jesper’s mind: an expensive bed that doesn’t creak, Wylan straddling him on a plush sofa, his shirt half undone and eyes gleaming, bending Wylan over a kitchen table in the middle of the day and-
“I’m back boys, hope you’re hungry because I got way too many- ah.”
Colm Fahey flinging open the back door and entering the kitchen has them both springing apart like guilty teenagers.
Jesper clears his throat, silently willing his erection away. “We were just…making coffee.” He glances at the stove. The coffee is definitely burnt.
Colm raises an eyebrow. “So I see.”
Wylan slides off the counter top and rearranges his shirt. His cheeks are red with embarrassment. Fortunately, Colm busies himself putting away the vegetables he’s brought back from the market, turning his back to them in the process.
“You know, back when your ma and I got together, there was this one time-”
“I absolutely do not want to hear whatever you’re about to say,” Jesper hastily interrupts, returning his attention to the unsalvageable coffee.
Colm just laughs. “Make me a cup too, will you? I need to go and see to the chickens.”
“I’ll bring it out to you,” says Wylan as Colm leaves the kitchen. He glances up at Jesper and leans in close to him. “How’s that resolve holding up? Still adamant on not fucking me?”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Jesper says, forcing himself to stay focused on the coffee. “But ask me again tonight.”
Wylan only smirks at him.
5.
It’s late by the time Wylan and Jesper return to the Van Eck mansion, the setting sun a swathe of murky yellow over the sky.
The council meeting had dragged on for hours, far longer than necessary. Wylan had somehow managed to feign an aloof sort of interest throughout, but Jesper had quickly grown bored and distracted, wishing he had his revolvers to fiddle with. He’d focused his attention on Wylan instead, on his perfectly tailored mercher’s suit, stark black against pale skin, on his delicate, elegant fingers idly tapping out a tune against the table. And then his mind had started to wander, his boredom quickly replaced by an altogether new issue.
Jesper manages to wait until the front door closes behind them before he pins Wylan up against the nearest wall, diving in to kiss him desperately. Wylan is startled for only a moment before enthusiastically kissing him back, fisting his hands into the lapels of Jesper’s suit jacket.
“Saints, what’s brought this on?” Wylan asks breathlessly as Jesper pulls his jacket off of him.
“Meeting was boring, started thinking about how good you look in black, might’ve got carried away.”
“Might have?” Wylan says, as Jesper shrugs out of his own jacket too and throws both in the general direction of the coat stand.
“Definitely,” Jesper amends, leaning in to kiss Wylan hungrily again, relishing the soft, needy sounds that he makes. He drops his hands to Wylan’s trousers, making quick work of unfastening them, feeling a spike of arousal as he realises that Wylan is already half hard.
“Probably shouldn’t…in the hallway…” Wylan manages to say, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie.
“Perhaps not,” Jesper concedes, pausing briefly to remove his own shoes before lifting Wylan clean off his feet and carrying him into the nearest room.
He stumbles into the parlour, Wylan’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, their lips locked together. With less finesse than he’d like, he deposits Wylan onto the sofa and lies down on top of him.
Wylan tangles his fingers into Jesper’s hair, tipping his head back against the arm of the sofa and baring his throat, and Jesper eagerly kisses a trail down it. He can’t resist sucking a mark on the way, there’s just something about the way the bruises stand out against Wylan’s pale skin.
“Jesper, the councillors will see that…” Wylan mutters.
“Good,” says Jesper, sucking a matching mark on the other side of throat, grinning as Wylan squirms underneath him. “Let them know that you’re mine.”
He unbuttons Wylan’s shirt, finally getting his hands on the soft, smooth skin of his chest, and kisses lower, before he’s unceremoniously tugged up by his hair, back to Wylan’s lips. He groans into Wylan’s mouth as clever fingers undo his trousers and shove them down over his hips.
Jesper wastes no time in getting his hands under Wylan and tugging until he raises his hips for Jesper to pull his trousers off of him. He chucks them onto the floor, ignoring Wylan’s protests of how expensive they are.
“You’re a Merch now, you can buy fifty more pairs if you want to,” he says as Wylan’s hands snake down his chest and into his underwear. “Saints…”
“How about you tell me what you want, hmm?” Wylan’s face is a picture of innocence, but his fingertips brush along the length of Jesper’s aching cock as he speaks, and Jesper struggles to form a coherent thought.
“Oh fuck, anything,” he manages eventually, entirely too distracted by Wylan’s hand now wrapped around him and stroking him slowly.
“Anything?” Wylan asks, and opens his mouth to say something else, but Jesper shuts him up with a kiss so heated that Wylan is soon whimpering underneath him, Wylan’s hands returning to their previous place in Jesper’s hair.
When Wylan breaks away to breathe, Jesper ducks down to his chest again, his fingertips hooking into Wylan’s underwear. He kisses down to Wylan’s stomach, traces the outline of each muscle with his tongue, grazes his teeth against his skin, listening to Wylan’s breathing growing more unsteady the lower he goes.
He glances up at him, starts to pull down his underwear and-
“Mr Van Eck, Florian was wondering if…Oh, goodness.”
The arrival of Agnes, their housekeeper, has them quickly rearranging themselves. Wylan covers his lap with a pillow and Jesper stifles a laugh.
Agnes, flushed and staring pointedly at the floor, continues. “My sincerest apologies, Mr Van Eck, Mr Fahey. I was just coming to ask if you required dinner. I was unaware that you were… otherwise engaged.”
Jesper snorts at that, earning him a whack on the arm from Wylan.
“No, that’s alright, Agnes. You can tell Florian to leave for the night.”
The housekeeper leaves with a polite nod, and Wylan sinks back onto the sofa with a groan of embarrassment.
“Must stop forgetting that there are staff here,” Jesper says. “That’s the second time this week.”
Wylan throws the cushion at him. “Just take me upstairs, would you?”
Jesper glances sideways at him and winks. “With pleasure.”
+1.
Wylan’s been restless all morning. It’s summer, the middle of a heatwave, and the air inside the mansion has been stifling all day. To make matters worse, Jesper has spent half his time trying his best to distract Wylan from his work, pouting whenever Wylan insists he read something to him, greedy hands touching him at every opportunity. Worse still, he’s been flouncing round in only a pair of thin, cotton trousers and a white shirt, open over his bare chest. The combination leaves very little to the imagination.
Wylan has no idea how he manages to hold out for as long as he does, but soon after lunch he orders his staff home to enjoy the nice weather, insisting that he and Jesper will be absolutely fine and no, please don’t come back to make dinner in the evening.
“You sent everyone home?” Jesper asks after the last person has finally left.
“I did. And I swear to Ghezen, Jesper, if you don’t take me upstairs right now and fuck me absolutely senseless, I’ll-”
But quite what he will do is lost in the eager press of Jesper’s mouth against his. Stumbling, hands all over each other, they manage to make it to their bed, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.
Finally naked, Wylan shoves Jesper down onto the bed and crawls up his body to kiss him again.
“You’re infuriating,” he says, nipping at Jesper’s lips, before quickly moving down to his neck, sucking a mark by his collarbone.
Jesper laughs breathlessly. “You love me.”
Wylan hums his agreement and travels lower, tongue flicking over a nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his abdomen. He bypasses Jesper’s cock - not hard yet but on the way - choosing instead to kiss the side of Jesper’s knee, the inside of his thigh.
“Wylan…” Jesper tangles his fingers into Wylan’s hair, not pulling, just holding him.
“Yes, my love?” He kisses a little higher, one hand sliding up Jesper’s other leg to wrap around the base of his cock.
“Tease,” Jesper huffs and Wylan just lifts his head to grin at him. He shifts a little to finally put his mouth where Jesper wants it, closing his lips around the head of Jesper’s cock and running his tongue over the slit.
Above him, Jesper groans and lets his head drop back against the bed. Wylan continues his exquisite torture for a few moments before finally taking Jesper fully into his mouth. The grip in his hair tightens.
“Saints, give a man a warning next time, yeah?” Jesper says and Wylan has to pull off to laugh. “I didn’t mean stop!”
Wylan only laughs more. “Stop making me laugh then and let me blow you.”
Jesper grins at that, grabbing Wylan’s free hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
“Infuriating,” Wylan mutters, but he’s not really complaining, already taking Jesper into his mouth once more, feeling him harden by the second.
Jesper groans softly, pressing his hips up a little, and Wylan takes the hint, letting himself be held in place by his hair as Jesper shallowly thrusts up into his mouth. He’s always considerate, careful not to make Wylan choke, never rough about it.
Wylan rests one hand on Jesper’s hip, letting him use his mouth, and strokes the fingers of the other hand up the inside of Jesper’s thigh, between his legs. He presses a knuckle against his perineum and Jesper curses, but doesn’t tell him to stop. He keeps going, massaging with his knuckle, feeling Jesper’s cock start to leak in his mouth. It’s not long before Jesper tugs gently at his hair, pulling him up and off.
“As incredible as your mouth is, I believe there was something about me fucking you senseless?”
“I might have said something along those lines,” Wylan says.
Wiping away the saliva running down his chin, he moves back up the bed to settle on his back as Jesper retrieves the bottle of oil.
“I aim to please,” Jesper says with a grin, and it’s so corny and terrible Wylan can’t help but giggle and tug him down into a kiss. Saints, he adores him.
He hears Jesper uncap the bottle, and then there’s a slick hand wrapped around his cock, and Wylan sighs into Jesper’s mouth. Jesper strokes him lazily, like he has all the time in the world, until Wylan grows restless, wriggling his hips impatiently, wanting more. Kissing slowly along Wylan’s jaw then back to his lips, Jesper spreads a little more oil over his fingers before pressing one smoothly inside Wylan’s body.
Wylan groans into Jesper’s mouth, their kiss quickly becoming more heated as Jesper adds another finger, well aware of how much Wylan can take and when. Wylan tangles his fingers into Jesper’s hair to pull him closer and Jesper responds by pushing his fingers deeper, twisting them, crooking them until Wylan is panting. He reluctantly draws away from Jesper to breathe, and Jesper promptly moves down Wylan’s body and takes his cock into his mouth with no warning.
His head slams back against the bed. “Fuck, Jesper…”
Jesper only hums around him, working him with his tongue while he fucks him with his fingers. Heat spreads up Wylan’s body, the desire he’d tried to dampen all morning set alight again by the combination of Jesper’s fingers and mouth.
Ghezen he wants to come, wants Jesper to carry on playing him like he’s the most beautiful kind of instrument until he spills down his throat-
Jesper removes his fingers, pulls off Wylan’s cock with a pop and gives him a wicked grin.
Wylan stares, panting, heart hammering, then kneels up to grab the oil and pours it into his palm.
Infuriating.
He shoves Jesper onto his back again, wraps his hand around his cock and strokes firmly, more than strictly necessary, then straddles him. Jesper automatically brings his knees up to support him, and he wastes no time sinking down onto him. He bites his bottom lip, trying to stifle his groan. He’s still far too close to coming.
Jesper runs his hands over Wylan’s thighs restlessly, finally settling them on his hips and starts to slowly rock up into him.
“Ah, fuck, that’s perfect,” Wylan gasps, moving his hips in time with Jesper’s.
He wants to try and last longer, for this not to be over so soon, but he’s too far gone. His eyes drift closed as the pleasure rapidly coils inside him, his muscles tensing with anticipation.
Jesper knows - he always knows - because he’s fucking Wylan harder, the hands on Wylan’s hips encouraging him to rock against him more and it’s so fucking good, his skin is blazing, his body trying to turn itself inside out as he dances on a knife edge. And then he’s coming, untouched, his body trembling as wave after wave rolls through him, Jesper’s fingers digging into his hips the only thing keeping him from floating away entirely.
As he comes back to himself, he’s aware that Jesper has stilled beneath him. Wylan can hear him breathing raggedly. He finally manages to drag his eyes open again, staring down at Jesper underneath him, and realises with a jolt that he’s still hard and he still wants more.
“Fucking hell,” Jesper says, sounding hopelessly aroused. His eyes are fixed on the mess on his stomach, on Wylan’s still-hard, leaking cock. “Are you okay, should we-?”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Wylan groans, fingers splaying on Jesper’s chest to steady himself as he starts to move his hips again, grinding onto Jesper’s cock, a needy noise escaping the back of his throat.
“Oh Saints,” Jesper breathes. “Wylan…”
Suddenly he’s moving, surging up and flipping them so Wylan is on his back, pinning him to the bed. He grabs Wylan’s legs and pulls them around his waist, then slides an arm underneath Wylan’s hips.
“You’re so fucking hot, can’t believe you’re still fucking hard.” His voice is low and rough, his eyes dark and glinting with something wild.
Wylan can only groan and wrap his arms around Jesper’s neck, scraping his fingers through the tightly coiled hair at his nape as Jesper starts to thrust into him. He tugs Jesper down to smear their lips together in a messy kiss, panting into his mouth.
Jesper bites at his bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth then soothes it with his tongue until Wylan is squirming and arching underneath him.
“You feel amazing,” Wylan says when they reluctantly part to breathe, sliding his hands over Jesper’s shoulders and down his back to grip his arse. He rocks up against him, pulling Jesper deeper, watching as he grits his teeth.
“Shit, oh fuck…”
Whatever resolve Jesper may have had snaps. He grabs hold of Wylan’s hips to hold him in place and fucks into him relentlessly.
The sound of their bodies meeting over and over fills the room and Wylan can only cling to Jesper like a man drowning. His entire body is on fire, his skin burning where Jesper holds him. With every thrust, Jesper’s cock nudges against his prostate, sending white hot sparks up his spine, and it’s fucking sublime.
He looks up at Jesper, quickly getting lost in his dark-eyed stare, as pleasure bubbles inside him, spilling over, seeping into his every pore. His cock throbs, neglected, and he quickly wraps a hand around himself, hissing in pleasure at the contact.
Above him, Jesper makes a strangled noise and curses loudly, hips stuttering for a moment before he’s fucking Wylan harder still, his eyes squeezed shut. He comes with a cry, burying himself deeper in the tight heat of Wylan’s body, and Wylan feels his cock pulse and throb inside him.
He’s beautiful, the most beautiful thing Wylan’s ever seen, better than any piece of art, brighter than all the stars in the sky.
“Fuckfuckfuck.” Wylan jerks himself off quicker as Jesper groans, still working his hips.
He’s on the edge again, teetering, breath hitching as every thrust pushes him higher, lost in the feeling of it all, of Jesper still inside him, the slick slide of his hand over his cock, the sound of Jesper’s ragged breathing.
“Let me see you,” Jesper says, and that’s enough to tip him over.
He comes again, toes curling, feeling as though his entire body has lit up from the inside. He spills over his hand and his stomach, dark spots dancing at the edge of his vision, the sensation far more intense than he ever could have imagined.
His mind hazy, he’s distantly aware of Jesper peppering the side of his face with kisses as he carefully withdraws and lies beside him. Once his breathing has evened out a little, Wylan rolls over to face Jesper.
“Does that count as ‘senseless’?” Jesper asks with a grin, tugging Wylan into his arms.
“I think it does.” Wylan just about manages to rest an arm on Jesper’s waist, his limbs feeling heavy and useless. “I can’t believe you made me come twice.”
Jesper groans softly. “Don’t, that’s going to be replaying in my fantasies for weeks.”
“Fantasies? We could just try and replicate it…”
Jesper only groans again. “Unless you’re up for trying to replicate it very, very soon, I suggest you stop talking.”
Wylan just laughs and strokes Jesper’s waist where his hand rests. It’s far too warm for a proper cuddle, but he tucks himself in as close to Jesper as he can bear.
“Can’t believe you sent all the staff home to enjoy the nice weather,” Jesper says after a long period of companionable silence.
“What can I say? I’m sick of being interrupted.”