The Queer Principles of Kit Webb

by Cat Sebastian

then his hand was on Percy’s jaw. “It’s just that sometimes, you actually make sense. A man’s allowed to be shocked.” The words came out stupidly tender, an impression that was probably only compounded by the thing his thumb was doing to Percy’s cheekbone. He was afraid it was a caress, that he was actually caressing Lord Holland. Lord Holland who had made an argument for the virtues of crime, Lord Holland who was Percy, who maybe thought Kit wasn’t so bad— He wasn’t sure which of them moved first to close the gap, but that was a lie because it was definitely Kit, it was definitely, lamentably Kit who put his hand to the back of Percy’s head and held it there very carefully when he leaned closer. He moved slowly, carefully, as if giving Percy a chance to think twice. His hand slid into Percy’s hair at the same moment their lips met. It felt familiar—not the brush of lips over lips, not the fact that he thought Percy might actually be smiling—but everything else. The way their bodies fit together. The sound of Percy’s breathing. The way he smelled like lemons and soap. The sure grasp of his hand at Kit’s hip. All the fighting had made them familiar with one another’s bodies, and God knew they were used to wanting one another, so the only thing that was different was the actual fact of their mouths touching, the pure sensation of it. And Percy was smiling, damn him. Kit could feel it with his own lips. It was probably that smug little smile that Kit really shouldn’t like hal...