With Everything I Have (9 page)

“Yes, Mother,” he agreed softly,
acknowledging both the task he’d accepted and her worry about it.
She failed to realize that he’d accepted that burden a long time
ago.

He thought of the work it must have involved
to coax Peter to tea the first time without Sebastian there, and
the work she had put in to make Peter feel comfortable enough to
return, and realized that was not true. His mother had accepted the
ways of Sebastian’s heart some time ago and determined to help him
if she could. Or she had wanted to see how Peter felt on the matter
and hadn’t trusted Sebastian’s opinion. Peter likely would have
approved of such careful research.

“Mother,” Sebastian added when she had
finally wound down and stopped reciting the guest list at him. She
was worried for him and had been since he’d been a little boy
crying at what he’d overheard said about him. He supposed it was
the way of any loving parent. “Thank you,” he told her, forgetting
anything else he’d been going to say. It didn’t seem enough, but
his mother’s voice broke as she reminded him once more of her
expectations for the evening. A moment after that she was gone.

Sebastian shoved the telephone aside with her
concern lingering in his mind and his eyes on Peter.

Peter continued to draw. Sebastian went into
the bathroom and then to the W.C. When he came out, Peter was still
intent on his notepad. Some papers had been torn loose and crumpled
up, rejected designs littered the floor. The tea tray was next to a
small, greasy motor of some kind. On the tray was a pot, some cream
and sugar, and an extra cup and saucer, presumably for Sebastian.
There was a cup of tea in front of Peter, most likely cold, but
Sebastian walked over and poured himself a cup from the pot. The
tea had gone lukewarm but he drank some anyway.

“I’m surprised you never became obsessed with
dirigibles,” he remarked, watching Peter’s hand go still over the
image of a sleek, strange autowagon. Sebastian wasn’t complaining.
He was grateful Peter had stayed on the ground.

Peter didn’t look up but he did take a sip of
tea. “You don’t like it when I try to fly. You never have,” he
observed calmly.

Sebastian stopped with his tea at his mouth.
He was used to Peter noticing, not to Peter understanding what he
was seeing. “Had some ideas?” he asked as easily as he could.

“Several.” If not for the blush, he wouldn’t
have been able to tell that last night Peter had used his mouth on
a man for the first time, on
Sebastian
for the first time,
and then ducked his head afterward so shyly that Sebastian had
dragged him forward and held him in his arms despite all of Peter’s
squirming. After a while the squirming had stopped and Peter had
adjusted to being held.

Sebastian was paying for it now, he
suspected. “That’s good,” he replied, stiff and uncomfortable to
see Peter acting so carefully.

Peter’s gaze crept up to his face. “Was it
satisfactory for you as well,” he coughed, “last night? I did not
go too far?” His voice became a whisper. “Or ask too much from
you?”

“Well well,” Sebastian responded lightly
despite his embarrassment. He should have stopped to dress. “More
than satisfactory. Very much more then.” He tried to be merry.
Peter squinted at him, then returned to his sketch. A curl fell
over his brow.

“I recall making several mistakes.” His shame
was too much. It struck Sebastian clear through the middle at the
same time he realized that part of Peter expected the worst from
him and always would, despite what his logical mind told him.

“I recall you making none.” Sebastian didn’t
pause or slow to think. He answered and reached down to pull
Peter’s hair back, then to sweep thumb over Peter’s cheek. Peter’s
skin was hot to the touch.

Peter shivered but still did not look at him.
“It was not too much?”

That was enough of that. It was far too early
in the day for Peter to not at least be sure of this one thing.
“Look at me,” Sebastian told him and was taken aback by how quickly
Peter turned to obey. “There is never too much.” It wasn’t entirely
honest, so Sebastian sighed but he didn’t look away. “Sometimes I
might be tired or you might be tired, but there can never be too
much. I will always want that.” He smoothed out the line between
Peter’s eyes and took a deep breath. “I will always want you. I
always have.”

“Your whole life long.” Peter’s voice was not
raised; it was not a question. Sebastian was confused for a moment
or two, unsure when Peter had reached that conclusion, correct
though it was. He could not tell from the tone of Peter’s voice if
Peter welcomed the idea. But in for a penny, he nodded.

“Yes.” It was simple but it was everything.
“My whole life long.”

Peter broke eye contact to stare at
Sebastian’s chest. “You are in love with me.” It was another
observation.

“Yes.” Sebastian was already naked. It didn’t
make it easier but they had come this far, there was no use
stopping now. “I love you.” He was amazed at the lack of tightness
in his chest, how easy it was to breathe now that he had said it.
He said it again. It made his cheeks burn and his head light. He
should never have waited. “I love you, Peter, and I am in love with
you, and I want you. I have done so for years. I have no doubt I
will continue to do so.” It seemed insane to smile at a moment like
this but he smiled at Peter’s bemused expression. He was flying. “I
told you there was a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” He had Peter’s full
attention, every skeptical, frightened ounce of it. Sebastian
touched Peter’s cheek again and Peter’s eyelids came down. His lips
parted though not a breath escaped them as he listened.

Sebastian tried to think of the best way to
explain it before giving up. He was no poet and never would be. He
shrugged. “One is up and down, it’s sickness and joy and physical
passions. Everything you are afraid of when you are out among
people. It’s like… being in the car with you at the wheel. I have
no choice but to hang on with everything I have. And yet,” he
stroked along Peter’s cheekbone, “and yet there is no better place
for me.”

Peter shuddered against him, pushing his face
into Sebastian’s palm. “The other, Sebastian? What is the other?”
He released his tight grip on his pencil and put his hand on
Sebastian’s hip. His other hand followed shortly after, sliding
down to Sebastian’s thigh.

Sebastian allowed himself the pleasure
feeling Peter’s hair on the back of his hand. “The other is steady.
It’s this moment right now. It means that even if you never wanted
me to touch you again, I would be here for you. You are my dearest
friend.”

Peter’s eyes came open. “What if I can’t feel
that for you?” He wrinkled his brow and pulled back to give
Sebastian a worried look. “You are my… you are Sebastian. You are
the best man in the world, I think, on level with Smythe. I won’t
hurt you. That is, I won’t want to. But, you say you love me,
Bash.” He dropped his gaze. “But what if I can’t feel that way for
you? I have tried to understand what it is that would make you
happy, if I should risk losing you or try to be that kind of man.”
Peter breathed hard into Sebastian’s skin. “I cannot lose you but
what if I cannot love you?”

The laugh that burst out of Sebastian
surprised them both, although Peter’s scowl was considerably
harsher than Sebastian felt he deserved. It was possible that
Sebastian was in too good a humour to be an accurate judge, but it
had been a busy night and the discoveries had carried over into the
morning. He held his tongue rather than apologise or explain. Peter
could figure this one out on his own.

After a moment Peter’s eyes grew big. “I
already do,” he realized aloud, surprise rich in his voice. He
looked up. “Sebastian,” he began but stopped. His eyes swept up and
down over Sebastian’s body, no doubt seeing everything there was to
see but for once understanding it. “I already do,” he said again,
adjusting to the idea with a little tremor. He whispered each
realization as it came to him. “I love you. Your autowagons.
Sebastian, I built them for you. I drive them with you. Everyone
knows, don’t they?” It could have been shame or anger in Peter’s
tone. He shuddered, perhaps loathing himself once more, but
Sebastian did not stop petting him, not for an instant. Peter
seemed pained. “They know what I did not. When you are gone from
me, I,” he lowered his head, “feel an emptiness that even food
can’t fill. Then when you are here there are times I can’t think. I
thought it was lust, Bash, passion.”

“Did you?” Sebastian was quite unprepared
when Peter shut his eyes and put his face against his hip. He slid
a hand down Sebastian’s thigh.

“It was terrible when you touched me. But
touching you… the moment I touched you, I knew there was no going
back. I need more, Sebastian. I might need you always.”

Sebastian opened his mouth but couldn’t
speak. It wasn’t hope glowing warm and bright inside of him. It was
hope answered. He thought it might be joy. Peter stroked another
touch down his leg, curling his hand to use the back of his
fingers, and Sebastian knew it was.

Peter’s lips moved against his skin. “You
should have told me.”

“Yes.” Sebastian drew his hand up from
Peter’s shoulders, along his neck to bring Peter’s chin up.

Peter’s eyes took longer to follow suit. “You
are sure you want me? You should have someone better, Sebastian.
Someone you do not have to tell such obvious things. One of the
others you fuck, if they are good to you.” He was holding onto
Sebastian with both hands despite his words. “If they admire you in
public as well as private and when you touch them they—” Peter
broke off there.

Sebastian understood. He had choked on his
own feelings for Peter often enough. “It’s all right, Peter.”

“No, it isn’t!” Peter glared up at him. “If
you find someone, it must be someone who sees more than you as you
are in public.” One of them was shaking. Sebastian put his hands
over Peter’s and Peter tugged them free only to take hold of him
again. “You are bright and laughing and handsome,” Peter told him
tensely. “You are the one who listens to his mother and sees that I
sleep and am fed. The one who forces me to see others, to do
better. You need someone who sees that.”

Sebastian had never been on the receiving end
of so furious a compliment. He touched Peter’s jaw and then sank
down to his knees to look Peter in the face. “You do.” It was his
turn to make an observation. “You see all of that.”

Peter exhaled, his head dipping in a slow,
sad nod. He knew, but he still thought Sebastian better off with
someone else. He was Sebastian’s to touch, so Sebastian touched
him. He had barely laid a finger on him before Peter pushed himself
from his chair onto his knees. He threw himself at Sebastian with
his eyes tightly closed.

The kiss landed on Sebastian’s cheek but
Peter adjusted quickly, turning until he found Sebastian’s mouth.
It was forceful only for a moment and then Peter gasped against his
lips and gave a harsh shiver. Sebastian wrapped his arms around
him.

“Is it so bad?” Sebastian murmured into
Peter’s ear, running his hands over Peter’s back. Peter burrowed
against him.

“Damn it, yes,” Peter hissed but finally went
still. “Would you like me to say it?”

“I’m afraid I do.” Sebastian’s voice cracked.
He wasn’t embarrassed.

Peter huffed at him. “I love you.”

Sebastian did not even have it in him to feel
smug. He closed his eyes. “I know.” It escaped on a sigh before he
opened his eyes again.

“Apparently everyone does.” Peter was not
letting it go. Sebastian had not expected him to. “Your mother
knew.” Peter’s face was burning against him. “Your mother. And the
valet.” Peter did not explain himself on that one. “I think Smythe
as well, Bash.”

Sebastian frowned. “I shouldn’t be surprised
after you let him in here.”

“I didn’t.” Peter seemed outraged at the very
notion. “He brought the tray on his own but only into the outer
room. I brought it in here.”

“You didn’t ask for tea?” Sebastian took a
moment, then recalled the servants watching them at dinner the
night before. “What did he say?”

“To call downstairs when we were ready to
eat.” Peter hummed and sat back. His expression was displeased. “He
seemed almost chipper this morning. I did not get a chance to ask
him why.”

Sebastian considered it and decided to ignore
that happy news in favor of more fascinating developments. “You
love me.” Peter instantly dropped his head to glare up at him.
Sebastian grinned. “I love you.” Peter’s glare only grew more
intense, as did his blush.

“Yes.” He growled. “As everyone knew but me.”
He was easy to soothe. Sebastian tugged his shirt from his trousers
and unbuttoned it. He pulled it from Peter’s body without bothering
to remove Peter’s braces. They were taut against his skin. Peter’s
eyes went very wide.

Sebastian took hold of one brace strap. “You
know more than you think you do, Peter.” He took hold of the other
one. He did not have to pull; Peter came forward on his own.

“I do?” Peter wondered, already whining for
how close their mouths were without a kiss being offered. Sebastian
rewarded him with one, a small one. Peter whined again. “How do
I?”

“Your autos,” Sebastian revealed, running his
hands up and down the braces to feel Peter’s skin, how Peter’s
breathing grew fast. “Your autos say everything, Peter. Even your
rejected designs.” He nodded vaguely toward the papers on the floor
with them.

Peter inched closer. “They are for you,” he
confessed. “I thought… bench seats. Wide bench seats. Wide enough
for you to bugger me.” He was shy and crude and marvelous.

Sebastian nudged Peter’s mouth open then
dropped his head to kiss over the beard burn he had left at Peter’s
jaw and throat. He used his teeth on Peter’s earlobe. “Or,” he
suggested in the wicked tone that his mother despaired of, “wide
enough for you to bugger me.”