With Everything I Have (5 page)

Peter would say they were not going fast
enough. On his own he would no doubt have driven much faster, taken
the bends in the roads with reckless abandon. Having Sebastian as a
passenger meant he changed gears less, kept his speed far below
what it would have been otherwise. It helped that the dirt roads
were not smooth, forcing Peter to what he termed a crawl.
Sebastian’s stomach was churning, his mouth was dry, and his hair
was probably a mess. He would never understand Peter’s love for
this, but in their slower moments he appreciated viewing the
scenery with Peter at his side and how content Peter was behind the
wheel.

Of course, there was no one around to make
him uncomfortable or constrain his behavior. A country life might
suit Peter. He had no real reason to stay in the city. Lord knew he
complained enough when Sebastian went to his family’s holdings up
north and left him on his own in London. Perhaps with less people
around Peter might be more at ease. And naturally the country could
always offer him more roads to explore and more cattle to
terrify.

A small herd behind a low stone fence went
bolting in the opposite direction as they approached, only to
absolutely panic at the jarring, echoing bang of a blown tyre.
Sebastian winced and held on tighter as Peter slowed the auto and
steered it toward the side of the road.

“Damn damn damn,” Peter offered when they
were stopped then dared to look offended when Sebastian instantly
hopped out and heaved a huge sigh of relief. Sebastian’s stomach
might never recover. “Did I frighten you?” Peter seemed lost as to
how that could possibly have occurred, but he relaxed a bit when
Sebastian waved away his concern as unnecessary. He trusted Peter’s
driving even if he did not care for the speed. “It’s the holes in
the road,” Peter explained, fretting either over the auto or
Sebastian’s nerves. “They’ve yet to make a tyre that can withstand
them.”

Sebastian shook his head while Peter reached
behind the seats to pull out some tools and a new tyre that he’d
wedged back there. One time during a previous test drive he had
lost two tyres and spent the night in his auto before walking to
town. It was the reason he took a blanket with him now on his
little jaunts. Sebastian pulled his dusty goggles down and grabbed
the blanket from the storage area behind the two seats where
Sebastian also kept the tanks of extra petrol. He took the blanket
with him to a shady patch under a nearby tree. He might as well be
comfortable while Peter made repairs.

Peter took his eyes off his cherry red auto
in order to watch him go. He gave Sebastian another offended stare
when Sebastian groaned as he sat down with his back to the
tree.

Sebastian rubbed his backside without shame.
“Those seats are seats in name only. Again I suggest better
cushioning.”

“I’d prefer something to absorb the impact on
the mechanisms when the auto hits a bump,” Peter called over but
gave him a thoughtful frown. “I did leave space in this one. Enough
room for bench seats or padding to be added. But I wasn’t sure… I
would have to ask a carriage maker. Not that carriage seats are
terribly comfortable either. But it seemed a matter of your taste.
If you really think so I could ask around.”

For Peter, “asking around” was akin to a
nightmare. But if there was anyone he could find common ground
with, aside from a certain war hero MP he admired who was also
known to avoid crowds and sit by himself at gatherings, it was
artisans and craftsmen. It might be good for him to get more
insight on the design of his autos. He already conferred with
chemists and rubber manufacturers. This might even turn out to give
him some new ideas, possibly even gain him some new friends that he
would insist were mere colleagues despite their mutual respect.
Peter had helped more than one mechanic and technician grow their
business but shuddered away from their gratitude. He claimed it was
simply business, as if business alone could explain why he was so
loyal to the tradesmen he discovered, or why he had built Charles
Howard that mechanized, moving chair.

If Peter was going to set his mind to making
the interior of his autos as beautiful as the outside, Sebastian
and the world were in for some wonderful surprises.

“Oh good,” Sebastian did not keep the glee
from his voice, “a problem for you that isn’t about breaking your
neck by speeding into a tree.” He closed his eyes in satisfaction
and eased his head back.

“I like to drive fast,” Peter answered
defensively as he worked. Sebastian snorted. Peter paused, the
noise of his work momentarily ceasing. Sebastian thought Peter was
considering some childish response but when he continued, his tone
was earnest. “I like to feel the wind so sharp that it cuts.”

Sebastian opened his eyes. Peter was
somewhere behind the auto, out of sight as he continued to frighten
Sebastian. “I like seeing everything fly by and knowing I could
slow if I wanted to, knowing I don’t have to. Everything is ahead
of me but also behind me. I could go on forever if I wanted to,
flying like that. It makes my heart pound. Makes me shake, stings
my skin.” Sebastian could almost see Peter’s self-conscious shrug
as he realized the drama of his own words. “And I like that people
see the lines of my autos and want one. “

“Peter, only you would get poetic about your
hunks of metal.” Sebastian was mostly teasing. If his heart was
also pounding, if his blood was also rushing hot and stinging to
the surface of his skin, Peter did not need to know.

Peter huffed at him, or perhaps his work was
strenuous and he was out of breath. “That’s not poetry. Poetry is
those lines about love that you are always reading. And do not call
my autos hunks of metal. They are more than that.” The sounds of
Peter and his tools were oddly reassuring. They meant Peter took
pleasure in the simple act of rebuilding and repair, and that Peter
was not solely devoted to risking death every time he drove his car
alone. Sebastian felt his nerves start to settle and closed his
eyes again. He could not imagine living in a state of such
excitement all the time, though that was how Peter must feel at the
thought of facing a room full of people. Being behind the wheel
merely put the fear under his control, or seemed to.

“Come here and sit with me,” Sebastian called
out when he was reasonably sure from the sounds of it that Peter
was almost done. There were a few more slamming sounds, the auto
set back on the ground again probably, the old tyre being tossed
into the auto to be repaired later, Peter putting away his tools,
and then he heard Peter’s footsteps in the grass. Sebastian cracked
one eye.

Peter flopped onto the blanket only to
immediately sit up to take off his long driving coat and goggles.
Then he flopped down again, parallel with Sebastian’s legs.
Sebastian opened both eyes. Peter was on his back, frowning up at
the sky. The birds in the tree above them were still in a flutter
about the noise the auto had made.

“Do you remember what Mr. Darwin had to say
about birds?” Peter mused and licked dust from his lips. “Autos
aren’t poetry, Bash.”

Peter hadn’t called Sebastian that name since
they’d been fourteen or fifteen. He also usually kept to one
subject at a time.

Sebastian angled his head in Peter’s
direction. “Birds?” he pried cautiously then added, “Then what is
poetry?”

“How birds fly. They offer very little
resistance to the wind. Look at how their bodies curve, how they
tilt their wings, the slope of their feathers. If I could get a
frame like that and use a lighter metal, there is no telling how
fast I could go. Poetry is usually about love.” It was like having
two conversations at once.

Sebastian tried to make sense of them both.
His heart continued to race. “If there was a lighter frame, what
would protect you in case of a crash?” The other topic was just as
alarming. “Have you been reading love poetry?”

“Fast enough to get away from everything. It
scares you, going that fast. When I go that fast.” Peter was eerily
calm. “It doesn’t scare me at all. I’ve been trying to reconcile
that.”

Sebastian waited, suspecting Peter had more
to say, and after a few minutes, Peter hummed and went on. “If I
drove like that you wouldn’t like it, would you?” He didn’t wait
for an answer. “But you wouldn’t tell me to stop. I like that
feeling. I can’t think of anything else that feels like that.”

“I don’t understand.” Sebastian pulled his
goggles from around his neck and threw them to the side.

Peter’s tone was almost dreamy. “It’s like
I’m barely hanging on. I’m exhilarated and short of breath. Sick
and hot, my whole body thrumming with—” Peter stopped to fiddle
with his driving gloves. A moment later he tugged them off and
shoved them away in the general area of his coat. He licked more
dust from his mouth. “Your mother said—”

“What?” Sebastian croaked. He swallowed and
tried again. It still came out rough. “My mother? What did my
mother say? When did you talk to her?”

“The last time she had me over.” Peter
dismissed that question as unimportant, as though Sebastian’s
mother often had him over for tea without either of them ever
mentioning it to Sebastian. “She said you weren’t happy and lately
I have been thinking about that.”

“Not hap…” Sebastian trailed off and put a
hand to his chest. “She shouldn’t have spoken to you.” It was
easier to focus on his irritation with his mother than on the
horrifying thought of Peter worrying about the state of Sebastian’s
heart. “It’s nothing, Peter, please. Never mind what she said.” He
wasn’t begging. Sebastian did not beg. Whatever else people
expected from him, they would never see that.

Peter rolled over onto his side and wrapped a
hand around Sebastian’s ankle. He met Sebastian’s startled stare
with clear eyes. “If you aren’t happy you should do something about
it,” Peter announced with cool logic. “You deserve to be happy,
Sebastian. I want you to be. I want to know that you are. If you
say you must have someone to share your life, and your mother also
thinks it, then I must think it too. ” A small line appeared
between his eyes and he dropped his head. “However…”

Sebastian put his hands down and imitated
Peter for a moment, squeezing handfuls of the blanket as hard as he
could. That ‘however’ might actually be killing him. “Peter?” he
whispered. Peter looked back into his eyes.

“However,” Peter worried his bottom lip, “I
am afraid I could lose you if you do.” His voice was low, hoarse
with the fear he was admitting to. “Is that selfish?”

Sebastian shook his head. It wasn’t the
answer Peter might have wanted but it was all Sebastian had for the
moment. It seemed the time to howl a curse at the sky, or pull
Peter to him, or drop his head to his chest and give up.

Peter took the need to choose from him by
sliding his hand further up inside the leg of Sebastian’s trousers,
up beyond his stocking to the garter holding it in place and
Sebastian’s bare skin. Peter’s lips parted, as if he was as shocked
as Sebastian was. Sebastian couldn’t even think to answer him, not
with Peter touching him. With Peter touching him he could not think
at all.

It had not been a month. It had not even been
weeks, it had been days since they had last done this, and even
then, Peter had never touched him first.

Peter withdrew his hand almost immediately
but stayed where he was, staring up at Sebastian with eyes that
entreated Sebastian to understand. They were by the side of the
road, Sebastian recalled distractedly, wondering just which of his
words Peter decided to listen to and which he ignored and why.
Surely there had been a lecture about discretion at some point, and
yet here they were, not far from the sensuous, dangerous, beautiful
auto Peter had built for him. It was just conceivable that Peter
thought he was being subtle, if Peter ever thought it about it. It
was also conceivable that Peter had no idea what that auto and that
colour might signify, or what it might mean that he had thought of
Sebastian as he had built it.

Peter abruptly jerked his hand back and
lowered his head. “I’m sorry.” He blushed with shame or
embarrassment. Sebastian realized he must have gotten lost in his
wild thoughts and Peter had taken it for rejection.

It could not be allowed, not even if Peter
was building the courage to let Sebastian go and wished to someday
try for intimacy with someone else. Sebastian put a finger to the
reddened swell of Peter’s lower lip. He’d meant it to silence
Peter’s apologies but the rose-petal softness compelled him to drag
his fingertip further. Peter exhaled and lifted his gaze up.
Sebastian tried to imagine what Peter would do if Sebastian slipped
his finger into his mouth. It was almost too much to contemplate,
though Peter’s pupils went wide and dark and the colour stayed in
his cheeks. He did not duck his head away. That was another
revelation. If Peter had considered using his mouth on Sebastian
and hadn’t for reasons that would only make sense to Peter,
Sebastian did not think he was ready to know.

He took his hand from Peter’s mouth and
buried it in the wind-blown tangles of Peter’s hair. Ever so
slowly, Peter slid onto his back, giving Sebastian a puzzled,
impatient look from a new angle. His throat was exposed and after a
moment he darted out his tongue, this time tasting where
Sebastian’s finger had been. Sebastian put his other hand to the
ground and shifted his position. Peter’s hand came up, most likely
in surprise, but Sebastian caught it before Peter could take it
away. He pulled it close and held against his shoulder as he kissed
Peter’s upside-down mouth.

Peter made a sound that more confused than
upset but when Sebastian finally released his wrist he curled his
hand weakly against Sebastian’s collar. “Yes,” Sebastian purred
against Peter’s mouth, not precisely sure what he was saying but
growing hard at Peter’s compliance. “Yes, Peter, like this, this
time.” If Peter was letting him go Sebastian wanted this first.
“This time you touch me.”