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“He was highly efficient.” Rackham snorted. “Efficient. Yes, you could say he’s that.” “He saved my life on three occasions over the space of a week,” Crane said. “I’d go so far as to call him competent.”
Stephen Day had reddish brown curls to Crane’s sleek and imperceptibly greying light blond, and pale skin to Crane’s weather-beaten tan; he was twenty-nine years old to Crane’s thirty-seven and appeared younger, and mostly, he stood a clear fifteen inches shorter than Crane’s towering six foot three.
“Don’t touch me! I can ruin him, and I will, if you lay a finger on me.” “The hell you will. You’re terrified of him. That’s why you’ve brought this horseshit to me. If you tried this on Stephen, he’d mince you into dog food, you hopeless fucking flit.”
I love how in awe Lucien is of Steph’s power. He doesn’t view him as someone in need of protection because of his size and is well aware that his lover is a force to be reckoned with. 🥰
He could not, in conscience, run and leave Stephen alone.
Crane, who hadn’t got rich by jumping in to fill silences, waited.
“It’s all right, sweet boy, sweetheart,” he murmured, moving to kneel between Stephen’s legs. “I’ll take care of you.”
In bed (over a desk, against a wall), “my lord” was a breathless, frantic submission, a plea to be mastered, a wholehearted surrender to Crane’s demands and desires. On the page, it made this letter as much a billet-doux as a summons, and thinking of Stephen writing the words gave Crane a jolt straight to the groin. Whatever the little sod was up to, he had known this would bring Crane running.
“He told the one about the crabman pretty much as it happened,” Merrick offered. “He what?” Merrick grinned unsympathetically. “What, you thought he’d keep a story like that quiet? But he was spot on with it, as I recall.” “That...individual can count himself lucky he’s dead,” said Crane. “And I’ll speak to you later, you turncoat.
Crane sighed. “It is actually possible to accept help without marking yourself as a weakling, you know.”
The material he’d selected, with no help from his sartorially inexperienced lover, was a subtle heather mix with tiny flecks of red and yellow, a quiet, autumnal effect that set off Stephen’s hair and eyes perfectly, and it was flatteringly cut, without any ostentatious attempt to make up for his lack of height or breadth. He looked, Crane thought, delightful: well dressed, bright-eyed and freshly fucked, the latter point hopefully lost on the men gathered around the table with them.
“Cor, dear.” Merrick shook his head. “You have got it bad, ain’t you?” “Shut up.” “I’m just saying. Round his little finger.” “Shut up.”
Indeed, Merrick. 😂
Merrick gave him a look. “Means you need to do a bit more thinking, that’s what. You reckon if I was a Long Meg like you, I’d act like I ruled the world too?”
This is supremely unfair. Lucien is trying his best to take something off Steph's plate and why shouldn't he? He loves him!
Merrick hunched his shoulders. “He deaf or what? That racket’s giving me a headache.” “No, that was you getting sloshed with a small child.”
😂😂😂
“I may be all those things but I’m not a magician. Christ, you’ve seen what he can do, and you’re telling me he feels intimidated by me? He scares the hell out of me!”
I’ve no desire to see you hurt. What do you want me to do?” “Perhaps we shouldn’t...be together. For a while.
No. 😫
Leo Hart guessed about you.” “She’s never met me!” “Not you personally. That you exist. That there is someone, for me.”
I love that Crane is so lovesick for Stephen. it would have been easy to have the smaller man be cast in effeminate, pining role. Steph is occasionally insecure about class and physical attributes, but Lucien, unquestionably masculine, is far more worried when it comes to the question of whether Steph loves him, and it is so endearing and delicious.
Stephen, Stephen, where are you when I need you?
Crane felt it like a wave, cresting through his body, a rush of goose pimples through muscle and organs and bone. The hair prickled on his head, and stood up visibly on Stephen’s, as his eyes flashed black, white and blue. Stephen pulled harder, lifting Crane higher, an almost orgasmic feeling of exquisite tension running through him. Esther was shouting and Leonora was wailing and Dr. Gold was grunting with agony or pleasure as Stephen lit the power in Crane’s blood into spectacular, glorious life
he flung a desperate look at Crane, who took two strides forward at that mute appeal, unclenching his fists from the white-knuckled nail-in-palm position that he had used to make himself keep silent, and put both hands possessively on Stephen’s slender, shaking shoulders.
“You are not resigning on my account,” Crane said harshly. “He has not put a foot out of line, Mrs. Gold. He has not done a damned thing wrong.” Stephen gave an almost-laugh. “Lucien, we’re breaking the law.”
Esther flung herself into his arms and wept, choking with angry sobs. Stephen muttered something incoherent, face pressed into her shoulder, and Esther thumped him on the back with a hard fist. “Why didn’t you say?” she managed through her tears. “Why didn’t you just say?”
“Esther’s bark is worse than her bite. Well, actually, it isn’t, but she’s entitled to do some barking anyway. Steph’s put her through a miserable few months with all this.” “It hasn’t been very entertaining for him either,” Crane returned swiftly, and saw a glint of something like approval in Dr. Gold’s expression.
Always defends his sweet boy.
Stephen snuggled closer, rubbing his face on Crane’s chest, trembling slightly. “Oh God, I’m such a coward. Don’t let me go.” “I don’t intend to,” Crane said, caressing the curly hair,
“You know, Gold’s right. You’re a fool, and I’m another. Between us, we’d barely make a village idiot. God damn the man,” he added as footsteps sounded, coming down the stairs. “I will talk to you later.” “What does that mean?” said Stephen warily. “Shout at. Fuck. Adore. Come here.” He pulled Stephen’s chin up and planted a hard kiss on his mouth, then let him go just as Dr. Gold banged the door open,
“Why didn’t I say what?” demanded Merrick. “‘Hey, them two Chinese shamans, they was shamans from China?’
😂😂😂 Merrick is the BEST!
“Since when did you talk to the law?” demanded Leonora in Shanghainese. “Since his nobility’s been fucking it,” Merrick returned. “You want the shortarse on your side.”
“That’s him, the little one? Yours?” Leo asked. “Yes.” I hope.
“Not your usual type,” she observed. “His usual type is dangerous buggers,” Merrick said. “And there’s no change there. Do not piss Mr. Day about.”
“It occurs to me that I have never fully appreciated my good fortune that you were the shaman that came to help me. Not only that I got my hands on your delectable arse, but that apparently most of your colleagues would have turned into power-mad lunatics through my malign influence, whereas you remain the strongest and the best man I know.
you could follow Tom to hell and not notice where you were going till your shoes caught fire.”
“I like to make you know your master,” Crane said. “It’s only fair. The rest of the time, you’ve got me so thoroughly enslaved, I might as well be wearing a collar with your name on it.”
“Look. I am quite sure I’ve told you how remarkable you are. I know I have. Magical, and infinitely fuckable, and extraordinarily brave. I’m also well aware that you’re a better man than I will ever be. I’m fairly sure you have no idea just how glorious you are, which is fortunate for me, because the more time I have with you, the more aware I am of my own very obvious flaws. And I realise you don’t entirely trust me—no, let me say this,” he insisted as Stephen tried to interrupt. “I realise that and I don’t blame you, but I want—I would like—you to give me a chance to demonstrate that you
...more
My life changed four months ago, and I utterly failed to understand that until just recently, and therefore...I may have omitted to tell you that I love you.” He took a breath. “That’s all.”
You know perfectly well that I’m all yours, Lucien, or you should. I’ve got your tattoo, for heaven’s sake. I’m marked for life.
it’s not that I don’t trust you. I just...struggle to believe that someone like you could really want someone like me.
“How long do you want?” “The rest of your life.” Crane watched Stephen’s eyes widen. “For now, how about a fortnight?” “Done,” Stephen said. “And...done.”
“God, sweet boy. I love you. I think I need to say that quite a lot.”
“Any time.” Stephen’s voice was a little shaky, ...
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He didn’t have to watch that look of pain and loneliness come back to Stephen’s eyes. He could take away the money worries, the fear of arrest, the quiet, constant fretting about a lonely future. He could treat Stephen as he deserved, and what was for certain, he would find a way to make sure the little sod was curled up in his bed every night, returning home to him, instead of vanishing wordlessly off to unexplained dangers. My little witch. Mine.
“Who cares about them?” Town snapped, but his eyes flicked away as he spoke. “Stephen Day does. Remember him? Short chap, reddish hair, one of the most dangerous men in London, on his way here right now to rip your spine out through your arsehole.
“God, you’re useful. Useful, beautiful, remarkable.”
“Ssh. It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.”
“You won’t need to,” Crane said, feeling Stephen’s hands pulse against him, his straining prick swelling as he rode him harder and harder. “Not that you’ll be able to talk for my cock in your mouth, of course. In your mouth, in your sweet arse, taking my pleasure and making you come till you’re sobbing for mercy, because that’s exactly how you like it, and I will always give you exactly what you want—”
Romantic in the most disturbing way possible. 😂😂😂
They clutched each other, gasping and whispering broken words of love and lust as the tattooed magpies fluttered back and forth between them.
“Are you all right, sweet boy? That was what you needed?” Stephen tipped his head, considering thoughtfully. “Yes. I think it was, actually. Thank you.”
“So you tell me,” said Stephen, eyes warm with affection. “Not always, though, I hope.” “Certainly not. If you want to take charge of the fucking again, you can damned well save my life to earn it.” “Now, wait a moment. That means I’m already owed at least three more—”
“That’s giving me ideas.” Stephen’s eyes widened. “Not in a church, Lucien.” “I’ll have ideas anywhere I damned well please.”
🙄😂🥰
