The Queer Principles of Kit Webb

by Cat Sebastian

“Make it so this is what I remember,” Percy said as they fumbled with one another’s clothes. “You may be overestimating my abilities,” Kit said. He wished he could, though. He wished all it would take was a thorough fucking to obliterate Cheveril Castle and all it stood for from Percy’s mind. From who Percy was. Percy had cast off the last of his clothes and stood naked in front of blue bed curtains that Kit strongly suspected had been picked to flatter its occupant. The idea simultaneously struck him as sinfully extravagant and an admirable use of funds. Kit tugged off his boots. “Get on the bed.” Percy arranged himself on a coverlet of the same sky-blue silk. “Oh, there’s oil in the pocket of my coat.” “Optimistic, were you?” Kit shucked his jacket and his shirt, letting them drop to the floor. “Shut up and do your job,” Percy said, spreading his legs and taking himself in hand. Laughing—and wasn’t that a marvel, to be laughing in this place, with this man—Kit got the oil and tossed it to Percy. “You know I haven’t done this, right?” “Why haven’t you, Kit?” Kit sat on the edge of the bed and palmed one of Percy’s bent knees. “It never seemed worth the risk.” Percy stared at him, propping himself up on one elbow. “Let me understand. You, while routinely committing highway robbery and other capital crimes with such wild abandon you’re almost a household name, balked at a little buggery?” “Well, it sounds silly when you put it that way.” “I think we need to acknowledge that...