Page 26 of Peculiar Engagements

Charon was still downstairs, talking to Laurent and Sabre. The courtesans from the House of Silver were all staying in empty rooms in other houses for now, including the House of Onyx, but they probably wouldn’t be allowed to take clients until they had a new place to stay. Percy had invited Yves to stay with him, Nanette, and Simone in his house in town, since the district was effectively closed that night, but Yves busied himself in Charon’s room instead, cleaning his already spotless shelves and rearranging blankets on the couch.

Charon had seemed odd back in the guard house. He hadn’t been odd in the way a person would be after risking his life in a burning building; his demeanor had changed when he sat down on the cell floor. Even his face had shifted, muscles moving in a way Yves hadn’t seen before, his expression that of a stranger. The way he’d held himself was different, and he hadn’t spoken in the lower city accent he had since Yves first met him. His speech was curt despite the soft tone of his voice, his vowels clipped, and there was something unusual in the way he pronounced words likewereandfire.It was the echo of an accent Yves had only heard when he was new to the House of Onyx, and Yves would bet his right arm that it came from Arktos.

Why did interrogating a prisoner, even so gently as Charon had done, make him more of an Arkoudai?

Yves had just finished steeping a pot of tea when Charon came back. He’d set Charon’s favorite books on the side table, the cookie tin he knew Charon usually kept for Yves’ benefit was out just in case, and he had a pair of towels and a case of supplies from his room. He put on his most pitiful expression when Charon eyed the towels. “Tea in the bath, please?”

“You’re using yourspank mevoice,” Charon said. He was still talking a little like an Arkoudai, short and abrupt, without the comfortable roundness of Starian speech. The talk in the cells was probably still weighing on him.

“Yes, but this time it means,you’re covered in soot and tea in the bath is better than smelling like a house fire.”

Charon raised his brows when Yves picked up the cookie tin, but Yves hadn’t pulled out his best pleading-submissive act for nothing. They took the tea to the baths, which Yves had already filled with scented water.

“I know I’m notyoursubmissive,” Yves said, trying not to sound like he was wheedling, “but you might need a temporary one. Just for tonight.”

“I would rather not use my dominance at the moment, Yves.” Charon stripped down, and Yves tried not to stare at the way his thigh muscles shifted as he stepped into the bath.

“Not like that. I mean you might need to come down a little. You’re in the bath, but you might as well be standing at attention.” Charon looked sharply up at him, and Yves kept his gaze demurely downcast as he slipped into the bath. “Let me wash your hair?”

It would probably be easier if he were a dominant. All he’d have to do would be to order people around instead of beg for it—but begging had its own benefits. Yves moved behind Charon and sank his fingers into his hair, which was thick, dark, and curled in the heat.

“Are you visiting Gerakia when you leave?” he asked. “Does that mean you’re going to see one of their colleges?”

Charon twisted his head slightly to look at him. “One or two.”

“Which one?”

Yves kept Charon talking as he gently massaged the smell of smoke out of his hair. He kept his voice low, and when he’d moved from Charon’s hair to his back, Charon didn’t brush him aside. Yves even made him smile with a joke about Kallistoi artisan guilds, and without meaning to, Yves found himself kneeling over Charon’s lap before they were done with the tea. They were seated on a low bench at the waterline, but the air was too full of steam for Yves to feel a chill. Charon had a tattoo over his chest, a symmetrical series of branches with stylized moths in the place of leaves. Yves traced the wings of a moth with his fingers, and Charon took a short, sharp breath. It wouldn’t have been noticeable if they weren’t so close, but Yves could feel it as though he’d done it himself.

“We should go to bed,” Yves said. He felt Charon’s hands at his waist, feather-light, and in the secure, heady warmth of the baths, being loved didn’t feel quite so impossible.

“You’re getting married soon,” Charon said, but he was looking at Yves’ chest with a heat that made Yves shudder pleasantly.

“Not yet.” Yves glanced up at him and down again, a clear sign from any submissive. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just me, Charon.”

But it did mean something. Maybe Charon had his reasons, but Yves couldn’t deny it.

“You’re notjustYves,” Charon said.

“And you’re not just what you were in the cells tonight.” Yves placed his hands on Charon’s thighs and parted them. He sank to his knees in the bath in front of Charon and kissed his inner thigh. “Everyone thinks you want to give it rough. But you should treat me the way you really want to.”

Charon reached down and stroked Yves’ temple. He twined his fingers in Yves’ hair, softly, carefully. Yves took Charon’s cock in his hands, and Charon let out a barely perceptible sigh. His muscular thighs framed Yves’ shoulders perfectly, and when he guided Yves’ mouth to his cock, it was with the light touch of a dom who knew his submissive would anticipate what he wanted. He trusted Yves to behave, and that did more for Yves than any frustrated spanking or half-hearted punishment.

It stood to reason that Charon’s cock was as thick as the rest of him, but Yves was nothing if not determined. He glanced up at Charon as his lips stretched around Charon’s girth, and was rewarded with a satisfying tug on his curls. He took it all at once, with none of the contrived, sloppy gagging many of his clients liked, but with an ease that made him feel more than a touch conceited. He knew Charon could tell he was proud of himself, because Charon cracked the faintest smile. Yves would have smiled back if his mouth weren’t full.

He drew back almost to the head, then down again, delighting in the way Charon’s cock brushed the back of histhroat. Breathing was a necessity for lesser men. Yves worked himself over Charon’s cock, gently cupping his balls with one hand as Charon boxed him in with his thighs. When he finally pulled up for air, Charon held his mouth open with his thumbs, forcing him to sit there and pant.

“Breathe,” Charon ordered.

“Do I have to?” Yves tried to ask, but Charon’s thumbs were in the way. Charon tapped Yves on the cheek and held him there a few seconds longer. Yves squirmed, eager to get back onto Charon’s cock.

When Charon finally let go, Yves took him down all at once again. He held himself there, his nose pressed to the curly black hair at the base, and tried to look up at Charon as though daring to pull him off. He worked his throat and tongue to massage Charon’s cock, and Charon’s legs closed tighter around his shoulders to hold him in place.

You may think you’re proving a point,Yves thought,but I’ll black out on cock if I have to.

“I know that look,” Charon said, and took Yves’ face with both hands. He ground into Yves’ mouth, somehow managing to fit himself deeper still, and Yves felt his throat flutter and seize. Charon moved him halfway up his length, then down again, not giving him enough room to catch his breath. Yves moaned and wriggled in the water beneath him, and he reached down to stroke himself.

He lasted a few more seconds before he had to draw back with a gasp. Charon hooked his mouth open with one hand to keep him in place, and Yves shot him a dirty look.

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