Page 47 of Salt Magic, Skin Magic
“Well, no, because you were brought up to respect the experts. Whereas I was brought up to know I’m always right because I’m me. I think you should have a little more confidence in your observations, becauseIthink you’re onto something wonderful.”
“And you’re always right.”
“These days, I have been known to make theoccasionalmistake. It’s the low company I’ve been keeping. It’s tarnishing my infallibility.”
John smiled. “You can still sound like an arrogant little prick when you want to.”
“Yes, can’t I? Perhaps you should make me beg for it again. It might bring me down a peg or two.”
“Ha, it hasn’t yet. Perhaps next time I’llleaveyou begging for it, and read a book by the fireside for a bit.”
“You wouldn’t dare! If you did, you might get a surprise. Perhaps it would be a pleasant one? Do you ever let people fuck you, Mr Blake? Because I would. Like a shot. If you wanted me to.”
John blinked. “I don’t, usually.”
“I didn’t think so. But you have tried it?”
“I didn’t like it.”
Thornby opened his mouth to say; “Well, never mind”, but John added, slowly, “Actually, perhaps it’s more that I didn’t much care for the fellows I tried it with.”
“Then I hope I’m nothing like them.”
“You’re not like them.”
To Thornby, the phrase seemed to ring in the air like the chime of a knife against crystal. John was just sitting there, fingers on the handle of his cold cup of coffee, not even looking him in the eye.
“John, did you just agree to try it again?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time.”
“I’malmostas good at it as you. I’d make you come so hard the chandeliers would turn into swans and fly away—even if you did your trick with those pins.”
John smiled. “We’ll see.”
His eyes, always dark, had gone black with arousal, and something else Thornby couldn’t quite place. But he felt that, given the slightest encouragement, John would probably try anything. Some men just wouldn’t, no matter how you tried to persuade them. Some men, he knew, took one look at him and saw: pretty, skinny, artistic, and made up their minds right there about what he liked and wanted. And it annoyed the hell out of him.
John might have a taste for being dictatorial in the bedroom, but there was something receptive about him, too. Of course, a man might be adventurous in some aspects of his life and conservative in others, but John, for all his wariness, seemed open to the idea of experimentation. Look at all this business about taking advice from a bag of salt! And God, he was handsome. Thornby had thought him good-looking enough when they had met, but he seemed to get more attractive the longer one knew him. It was the way he made the air crackle with possibilities, the way his hands seemed to listen when they were on one’s skin.
Thornby cleared his throat. “Well, today’s going to last forever, isn’t it? The Lazenbys arrive this morning, and then there’ll be shooting, followed by tea, and dinner with about twenty courses. And then music, probably, until I scream.”
John, who had been staring at him, said, “Yes,” as if he hadn’t heard, then sat back in his chair, visibly changing tack. “You know, if I vary the wards when I give her the fertility charm—it’ll be bulky, but she could manage—I could—”
“I think I’ll leave you to it. You should eat, too.”
“Sorry. Talking shop at you again.”
“No, it’s more—if I keep looking at you, I shall die of swollen balls. Did you know, when you’re thinking, you have a ferocious scowl that I really find quite devastating.”
“Thornby. Soren. Wait; before you go.” John reached into his pocket and brought out what looked like an ordinary grey river pebble. “I want to give you this.”
Thornby took it on the palm of his hand and looked closer. It was swirling internally with what seemed to be pearlescent smoke.
“It’s a tracker stone,” John said. “If you put it in your pocket, I’ll be able to find you. I can’t find you using the ordinary methods, but if your father tries that trick with the chain again, I can set up a sigil and it’ll lead me straight to the stone.”
“What a clever thing!” He held it to the light; the grey swirls shifted and sparkled. “Thank you, John. You’re marvellous.”
It was only once he was walking along the passage towards the gun room that he realised what he’d said.
