The Gentleman and the Rogue (6 page)

Jem didn't take offense. “If I get the opportunity and it won't cause a great hardship for either of us. Don't want to take a wallet from a vengeful man. I got no morals, I expect,” he said as casually as if announcing he were out of salt.

“How did you know I wasn't vengeful?”

“You might well be.” Jem yawned. “You might be waiting for me to fall asleep, and then you'll drag me to the docks and put me in His Majesty's navy. Or you might cut my throat.”

“Too messy,” Alan said.

“Aha, you
do
know how to make a joke, sir—or so I hope. Would it be poison, then? I'm so sleepy, might well be.” He rubbed his chin, and the rasp was loud in the quiet, nearly dark room. “No, I know what 'tis.”

Alan put his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. “How will I kill you, Jem?”

“With kindness,” came the sleepy answer. “Food, warmth, safe place to sleep. Kindness. Mm. And a body a man could…” But then his voice petered out to be replaced by his slow, deep breathing.

Alan hoisted himself onto an elbow and looked down at the sleeping Jem. Except for the faint shadow of stubble and his thin features, he could have been an innocent youth, although Alan expected he'd been a knowing, conniving sort since he first learned to speak.

As he considered Jem's face and wondered about the man's secrets, Alan realized he didn't detect his usual companion—empty misery. As if testing a sore tooth, he allowed his thoughts to veer into forbidden territory. He shut his eyes and envisioned bodies lying in ditches, the unending screams of horses and men, and later, the screams of women and children as the British invaded the city.

More memories he did not usually allow himself to see or feel flooded his mind, and he didn't fight the horror. Dragging a mangled Badgeman out of the pile of dead and dying. All those bodies of his men and boys, dead due to a general's stubbornness and folly. Coming home to find his family gone—father, mother, and brother as dead as soldiers killed in pointless battle. The nightmares he'd had while the medication for pain killed his spirit. He'd thrown off that yoke, but had been left a husk.

He wondered what Jem would say should he hear Alan's story. He might try to get Alan to laugh it off. He could tell an obscene, stupid jest. God above, and all Alan would want was his embrace. He wouldn't seek anything more lurid than the soothing presence of another person sharing his bed. Determined to ignore the steady thrum of lust, he stripped off his clothes and inched closer to the middle of the bed where Jem sprawled, lightly snoring—a rather pleasant, companionable sound. Alan tried to gain the illusion of comfort from the sleeping man's warmth.

His own behavior tonight had been erratic, crazy. It was lunacy to invite a prostitute and thief to spend the night in his house. Badgeman would probably be up all night, fearing his master's throat had been cut while he slept. But Alan was too sleepy and far too comfortable to care about how his actions might be construed or that he'd have to face reality in the morning. For now, he was content, at peace, and the comfort he gained from curling his body around the other man's was no illusion.

Chapter Five

Jem woke with sunlight in his eyes and a splitting headache that made him not want to open them. Not hungover, although his mouth was as dry as cotton. He slid his hands over the smooth sheet and the warm, hard body, and remembered where he was. A thrill of excitement woke him the rest of the way. This was an intriguing situation, something out of the ordinary, and who knew what the new day might bring?

He ungummed his eyes and gazed at the ceiling above him. No cracks, flaking plaster, or mold stains—he definitely wasn't in Southwark anymore. Reaching up, he rubbed the side of his head and felt a good-sized goose egg beneath his hair. No wonder his head ached. Of course it didn't help that Lord Nursemaid had woken him up several times during the night to make sure he was still alive. When Jem had groused, Alan had explained something about possible damage to the brain from the blow to his head and the need to make sure his pupils dilated properly. It was all nonsense, but Jem had bitten his tongue and submitted to having the other man peer into his eyes by candlelight—a small price to pay for a good, if not uninterrupted, night's sleep in a soft bed.

Jem stroked his hand over Alan's chest, combing the fine hairs between his fingers and touching the smooth skin underneath. He turned his aching head on the plump feather pillow and examined his sleeping companion, enjoying this chance to study him freely.

Lord Alan Bumbuggerer was a very handsome man when he wasn't scowling. His face was still severe, always would be with those deep grooves cutting either side of his mouth and the permanent frown lines between his brows. In sleep he appeared relaxed and peaceful at last. His lips were slack, breath whistling lightly between them. His jet-black hair, shot at the temples with a sprinkling of white, was a vivid contrast to the snowy white linen of the pillowcase. Thick eyelashes swept his cheeks. What secrets lay behind the shutters of his lids where his eyes moved restlessly back and forth?

Stubble darkened his jaw and chin, emphasizing the stark angularity of his bones. Too bony. Too lean. He looked nearly as starved as Jem often felt. No wonder the badger was worried about him, what with the lack of appetite and isolation. The loyal butler-coachman-serving maid must have sensed his master's despair but didn't know how to reach him or cheer him up.

Fortunately Jem did. He scooted closer to the warm body lying beside him and slid his hand down Alan's chest to his groin. The dark hairs were wirier there, tangling around his fingers as he reached for the man's erection. Ah yes, its owner might be asleep, but his cock was wide awake, thick and solid, and twitching at Jem's touch.

He crawled beneath the covers, his headache diminished as all the blood left his head to rush down to his penis. Single-minded—that was what his old granny used to call him, and she was right. When he got an idea in his head, he'd worry it like a terrier with a rat. Sometimes his focus might be an argument or prodding to get to the root of a question as he'd done with Alan last night, but at the moment his attention was on more basic needs—getting a mouthful of cock and making his bed partner groan and writhe.

As he wedged his body between strong, hairy thighs and well-muscled calves, Jem breathed in the musky, salty aroma of the man. A clean smell compared to many of his clients who bathed so rarely their ripe stench was eye-watering—and some were rich gents from whom one would expect better hygiene. But some seemed to think a splash of strong cologne was sufficient to replace a good wash.

Alan stirred and shifted and made a quiet mumbling sound, but didn't fully awaken. Jem took his cock in hand and placed the tip to his lips. He gently drew back the foreskin and licked over the smooth head before sucking the length into his mouth.
That
woke up his lordship. He groaned and tensed. Lovely.

As he sucked, Jem stroked his hand up and down, slow and leisurely, the way a morning frigging should be, as if they had an entire day to loll in bed together. Beneath the covers, sandwiched between Alan's hairy legs, Jem was toasty warm and secure. Too bad it couldn't last, but he'd play out the situation as long as possible. Perhaps he'd at least get another meal before he had to leave.

Alan thrust gently, rising and falling beneath his skilled mouth and hands. Jem swirled his tongue around the salty length of his shaft and sucked deeper. He cupped the other man's sac and fondled his balls for a while, then slid his fingers along the sensitive strip behind Alan's balls and traced delicate circles around the rim of his anus.

A soft gasp came from above. Jem grinned around his mouthful of cock and darted the tip of his finger in and out of the clenching ring of muscle. Oh yes, the master liked that. His hand stole beneath the covers and settled on Jem's head, fingers twining in his curls.

Jem let the other man's cock slip from his mouth to flop against his stomach, solid and hard. If he wanted to make this last, he had to slow down and build up more anticipation. He turned his face into the hand that cradled the side of his head and kissed Alan's palm. He stroked it with soft, tickling laps of his tongue like a grateful dog and was rewarded with another soft groan. It was a rich reward. Jem enjoyed giving pleasure nearly as much as receiving it when the man was one he was attracted to, someone he could envision being with as more than a customer. And Alan definitely fit that bill. Hell, Jem would happily fuck him for free. If he walked away from this experience with a couple of meals and the memory of a night in a soft bed, that would be ample payment.

Alan curved his hand around Jem's cheek, touching him, feeling the shape of his brow, his nose, and jaw. When his exploring fingers reached Jem's lips, Jem drew one into his mouth and sucked it, hard. All the while he continued to explore the other man's arsehole, gently probing, stretching it wider, feeling the muscle spasm around his fingers. Alan thrust back onto his hand, urging him deeper. Jem didn't want to go too far, not without some unguent to ease the way, so he continued to tease around the opening.

He burrowed his face between Alan's legs and kissed his inner thighs, then licked his scrotum, making him arch his back with the need to have Jem's mouth wrapped around his cock again.

At last Jem took pity and kissed his way around the thatch of dark hair to where the man's cock lay twitching against his belly. As he drew Alan's penis into his mouth once more, he tasted the musky fluid leaking from the tip. This wasn't going to last long at all.

Jem resumed pumping with his fist and sucking the head while drilling the master's bunghole with insistent fingers. The heat and tightness of that spot was making his own cock throb and weep with the desire to fill it.

Within minutes, Alan was rocking forward and back, trying to relieve his cock in Jem's mouth and impale his bottom on Jem's fingers. He groaned and shuddered. Jem felt warm jets of spending hit the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, squeezing his thighs tight to control his cock's need to explode.

Alan's wild thrashing, like an unbroken horse, calmed after a moment. He lay panting against the mattress with Jem's fingers still spearing his rear. Jem released the man's spent cock and withdrew his fingers from the clenching bunghole. He crawled up Alan's body to lie full-length on top of him. He poked his head out from under the covers and grinned down at his host.

“Morning. Ain't you glad you asked me to stop the night?”

The pale ghost of a smile haunted Alan's mouth, softening his hard features. “How's your head?”

“Got me a goose egg, but I'm fine. I've a hard head. Nearly as hard as yours was this morning.” He winked and rocked his groin against Alan's softening penis, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

The rocking felt damned good on Jem's erection, so he did it some more, thrusting lightly and enjoying the friction against Alan's warm belly. He'd be happy to stay pressed against the other man's hard body for as long as he'd let him, but supposed he should make some indication toward leaving.

“Thank you for your hospitality, sir. 'Twas a lovely night. Some moments excepted.”

“Yes.” The smile was gone and the frown lines back as Alan took hold of Jem's shoulders and gently moved him off his body. Acknowledgement of what they'd done, what Jem had just finished doing for him, in the light of day was too much for the older man to face, Jem guessed. He couldn't look Jem in the eyes, so close and intimate, so he pushed him away and rolled to a sitting position. Jem watched his long back, the perfect canvas marred by scars and several freckles and small moles. He gazed at the other man's bowed head and wondered what was rattling around inside it.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Alan asked abruptly. “No need for you to leave without a proper meal first. Likely it's another cold, foggy morning, and you should have something hot in you.”

“Bit of brekkers sounds like just the thing.” Jem sat up, legs crossed, arms resting on his bent knees. He continued to watch the curious creature who'd brought him home and surprisingly didn't seem to be in a hurry to see the back of him.

As Alan used the chamber pot and then went to his wardrobe to select clothes, he seemed to be trying to pretend Jem wasn't there—or at least that he wasn't sitting naked on the bed with his erect whang on display. Jem had half hoped the man would think turnabout was fair play and at least give him a release by hand, but no such luck. Alan was not acknowledging his erection.

“We'll go down for breakfast. You should dress,” he advised without turning to look at Jem.

With a sigh and a halfhearted stroke of his cock, Jem slid out of bed and used the chamber pot himself before dressing in the clothes he'd been given. He cast a last, wistful glance at the rumpled bed with those lovely, soft sheets, then followed Alan out the room and downstairs.

The smell of sausage hit him halfway down the stairs, and he could've found his way to the massive dining room by following the scent alone. His stomach rumbled, and his aching head was nearly forgotten as he focused on the table laden with gleaming silver-covered dishes. It was like magic, as if a wizard had made the breakfast appear from thin air, because there was no sign of servants. And how had Badger known when his master would rise or that he'd be hungry enough to eat sufficient food to feed a regiment?

Jem took the seat Alan indicated, enjoying the feel of the carved wood beneath his hands as he pulled out the heavy chair.

Dark, glossy wood pieces like the table and chairs dominated the room. He stared around, memorizing the details, storing them up for later. Jem had an eye for beauty, his mum used to say, sometimes fondly—more often mockingly.

The big badger also dominated the room, but wasn't nearly as handsome as the furniture. He lifted the lid of each serving dish and directed a look at Alan, who silently nodded or shook his head. After placing the dangerously well-loaded plate in front of his nibs, the badger turned to Jem.