Watchful Friends

By Blue Sapphire

Stefan is back at Green Acres, after his adventures with serial murderer Lucas Blackstone, to find his household grown by one.
Michael Winslow, son of Gregory, and Will’s old lover has taken up reluctant residence in the Great Devaney’s home.
Why has he come: to speak with Will; to have it out with him; hurt him; get revenge for his perceived betrayal (what he did with his dad) or something else?
There’s so much anger in him (it must surely erupt at some point?) but is it merely a mask for some other feeling? Where has Michael been these last couple of years, what’s he been doing, and what does the newly hired chilly bodyguard Mr Kline know of it?
Is Michael going to be an issue and, if so, how big of a one?
The tension is high, and everyone is watching everyone else.
William is watching Michael. Is there a chance for reconciliation? Does he want that?
He has eyes on Lucas. How did he come to know Stefan, how did he escape confinement, why is he at Green Acres? For him? Does he want that?
Michael is watching Peter. He sees how protective everyone is of him: Devaney, the stable-hand, the bodyguard, Will, even Blackstone (and he knows who he is even if Peter doesn’t seem to). If he came to Stefan’s with intent to get revenge on Will would going through Peter be the way to do it? Will slept with his father. Ought he even up the score by going with someone he cares about?
The dynamics of Devaney’s household mean that simply having sex with Barrington would do little to upset anything. Peter has earned the right to do what he pleases with whoever he chooses.
Michael would have to do a lot worse than simply have sex with the man to hurt anyone.
Does he really have that sort of hurt in mind?
If he does, he will not get the chance.
Stefan is watching Peter and he swore he’d never take his eyes off him again. But will he be distracted: this time by Blackstone?
That man has invited himself into his home and he finds himself lacking the power to make him leave.
Because he doesn’t want to?
They’ve done things together – some nice; some nasty. Is he secretly keen to keep doing those things?
Devaney is a man used to being in charge regarding...those matters but it was surprisingly enjoyable to cede control to someone far stronger than him, but is it the sex he’s more interested in repeating or the other, redder, things they did together?
There’s still the matter of that film being out there. Evidence of the hurt done to his precious Peter. Sick scumbags are still getting off on it and that will not do.
They should be dealt with but who by?
Lucas is keen to carry on that work, but does he desire Stefan’s aid? That man proved an adept student when it came to the bloody red things but maybe all Blackstone now wants from that man is the other stuff.
William introduced him to the fleshy pleasures, which proved shockingly delightful. He greatly enjoyed Peter’s sweet charms but has only just begun to explore Stefan’s. Would he rather pursue those adventures with him?
Maybe Winslow would make a better pupil and helper in dealing with those scumbags.
Son of a known gangster (killer?), is he a killer too? Mr Kline seems to think so. Just what does he know about the Winslow lad?
That man is keeping a cold-eyed watch but who does he see as the biggest concern: the gangster’s son with his barely contained rage, Will (with his knack of drawing dangerous men to him) or Blackstone (he too knows exactly who he is but is oddly keeping his own counsel on the matter)?
Lucas’s gaze is as far reaching as Kline’s and is everywhere: on Stefan, on Will, on Peter but it is broad enough to encompass Michael too. What is it he sees when regarding him: possibilities or problems?
Is Michael a threat: to Will, to Peter, to Stefan’s unique set-up?
Must Lucas act against the man to prevent trouble?
Will would not like that, but Blackstone is a man not afraid t

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yvonne C.
• Release date: May 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9780463828670

Blue Sapphire

Blue Sapphire is the pen name of English author, Yvonne Carsley. It is the name she uses when writing m/m erotic fiction.

Book preview

Breakfast was a subdued affair. It was not the homecoming anyone had imagined or hoped for.

Peter had eaten alone to begin with, slowly, quietly, picking at the food Edward placed before him while he sat at the kitchen table. Edward himself had said nothing beyond asking him how he wanted his eggs prepared. He’d shrugged in answer, not caring. They tasted of nothing as he forked them into his mouth.

He glanced up repeatedly, his gaze going to the door then back to Edward then again to the door.

It was a while before anyone else came through it and Peter’s heart both leapt then fell as it was Thomas.

What the hell’s going on around here? he whispered, slipping into a chair opposite. I just passed the master in the corridor. He barely acknowledged me. He had a right face on him.

Peter opened his mouth but closed it when Kline suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Any coffee? he asked of Edward.

The man poured him a steaming cupful and Kline moved to stand near the window. He drank his dark brew while casting glances towards the table. Towards him, Peter thought with a little shiver.

No one spoke for long minutes and then William stepped through the door. His gaze was cast down and he looked like he’d been crying. Peter frowned.

Can I have some tea? Will murmured, looking briefly at Edward.

Of course, Master William. Sit down. I’ll get a pot made up.

William hesitated a moment, debating where to sit then slid into the chair next to Thomas, sitting directly opposite Peter but not looking up to catch his eye. Peter frowned again and opened his mouth, meaning to ask about Lucas. How did Will know him? Where from? How long? Why hadn’t he said so earlier?

But then Stefan was there.

He stood tall and silent in the open doorway, staring right at him with such intensity that Peter gulped.

Stefan, he croaked.

Which was seemingly all he could think of to say.

Why couldn’t he come up with anything else? This should have been a joyous moment, a happy reunion. That horrible man had tried to ruin things then, luckily, Lucas had been there to save him. But he’d taken him away and he’d not seen Stefan for what seemed forever. Then on coming back to the house Stefan had been the one to vanish. Where had he been and why?

He gulped again, knowing, or at least suspecting where and why.

He’d been doing something for him, to make things better for him. Everything he did was for him.

Though what in fact could he have been doing that had taken so long? That…man had been taken care of. He had–

No! He was not thinking about that. Not ever. The man had been dealt with was all anyone needed to know. He was no longer a problem. All the bad men had been dealt with.

So where had Stefan been and why? And why now when they were both finally back together in their home was it not the pleasure it should have been? Where had all this tension come from? Even Thomas felt it and he had no idea what was going on.

Where…? Peter licked his lips. Where is Lucas?

He noted the way Will tensed at the name but kept his focus on Stefan.

The guy was staring unblinking at him. What did he know? What did he suspect? Did he know he’d gone with the guy? Was he angry?

You chose him for me, didn’t you, he said with his eyes.

Stefan stared back for long moments then he moved into the kitchen and sat at the head of the table, waving away Edward’s offer of a hot drink.

Mr Blackstone is in the study, awaiting a conversation. He looked around the table. His presence in this house is known only to those of us currently in it and will remain that way. Is that understood?

Thomas and Edward shared silent glances. Kline, standing by the window, still sipping his coffee, was pointedly still but his eyes were hard and disapproving. Though that was just his natural expression, Peter thought.

Stefan looked straight at him with a suddenness that made him draw a quick breath.

You and I need to have a conversation and will do so soon, but for now I need you to bear with me and trust me.

I always have, he replied softly.

Stefan stared at him a moment longer, his gaze relaxing slightly. Then he turned to focus on William.

Look at me, Will, he urged.

He slowly raised his head.

I know you are confused, and I will do my best to clear that up. Do not worry about this situation. No harm will come to anyone and there’s no cause for any shame or embarrassment.

Will swallowed. Why is he here? How can he be here? He was…

I will explain all that. I promise. But not right now. I must discuss things with him first and then there’s your little friend upstairs to deal with.

Please don’t hurt him!

Stefan blinked. Do I have reason to want to?

Will glanced at Peter and could feel Kline itching to say something.

Does someone have something to tell me? Stefan asked sternly, looking around the room.

We all have things that need discussing, Peter said, but you will have to bear with us too. It’s been a long night. The sun isn’t fully up yet and we’re all still tired. We should all go back to bed then when fully rested we can sort everything out with clearer heads.

Stefan nodded. Sensible. Why don’t you and William go on up. I have some things to do and then I’ll join you.

Peter shivered inwardly. Even with everything that was going on, with how strange and confusing it all was, the thought of Stefan once more back in their bed, pressed against him, all warm and hard, was a pleasant one. Stefan’s arms around him, protecting him. His chest against his back, firm and supportive. His lips, hot on his neck. He shivered again.

Go on up now, Stefan said softly. "We’ll talk properly later in the day.

Peter led Will out of the room and only after the duo had left did Stefan’s demeanour reharden. He looked to Thomas.

I want you keeping a close eye on Winslow from now on. I don’t know what’s been going on while I’ve been gone but I’m not happy. That lad should not be here.

My thoughts precisely, Kline rumbled.

Stefan glanced at him, recognising the man from the files he’d skimmed before he’d been called away by Blackstone.

Distracted, he thought, looking the big man up and down.

Is this the one he would have chosen? He was certainly large and imposing. No one would mess with Peter with this brute watching his back. On the other hand, the Winslow boy had arrived while he’d been gone and permitted to stay. Who by? Certainly not this man and surely not Edward.

He smiled inwardly, ruefully.

William, of course. How passionately he’d pleaded. Don’t hurt him. Still such feeling in him for the gangster’s lad. Even after everything that had happened and all he’d done with others. With him.

His lips quirked.

Was he jealous? William was only his now and then, he knew that. Michael was Will’s grand passion. He couldn’t change that. Nor could Blackstone. No matter how wild things had got between them.

His lips turned down.

Mr Kline, isn’t it? he said addressing the man by the window.

My lord. The man stood to attention.

Mr Devaney will do, or sir if you prefer. You are not a fan of Mr Winslow?

I am not certain of his intent, sir. I do not think he is certain of his intent. What I do know is that he has a lot of rage in him, he came here sneakily, has been inflaming feelings and that certain people have blinders on where he’s concerned. He is worrisome.

Perhaps so but Thomas will be enough to keep him in check. I need you to keep an eye on our other guest.

Mr Blackstone?

Stefan looked lingeringly at him, trying to read that unreadable face.

Kline said the name with no apparent hint of recognition, but Stefan did not let that fool him. A man like Kline did not get such glowing recommendations without deserving them. The man did his job well. He had skills and knowledge. He researched thoroughly all those he worked for and with. He had to know about all the people in this house. He had to know about William and his connection to the infamous serial killer.

But now said serial killer was in the house and Kline’s face was utterly unreadable. Would he say something, do something, challenge Blackstone, go to the police?

I was hired to be Mr Barrington’s bodyguard. Are you asking me to neglect those duties?

No. If he leaves this house you will go with him, even if it’s only to take a turn in the garden. While in this house he won’t require such a close watch from you. I am here now. My eyes will be on him. While inside you will keep your eyes on Blackstone. I do not think him a danger to anyone here, but I will want to know where he goes, what he does, who he talks to and what is said. I want him kept away from the other servants. Edward will not be a problem and I will speak with Frederick, but I don’t want others seeing him if at all possible. The less people that know he’s here the better.

Yes, sir.

I am deciding what to do about him, Mr Kline. And what I eventually decide will be my business. I am paying you well am I not?

You are, sir.

And you are a man well known for your discretion on the job.

I am.

Then I think we understand one another.

Yes, sir.

Stefan looked to Edward, whose face was more than readable. Clear disapproval radiated from the man’s every pore, and he knew he was in for a stern lecture later, but right now he could not worry about him. He had to deal with Blackstone first. Him and his crazy ass idea about staying here.

It was crazy, wasn’t it? Such an idea could not be feasible. Lucas Blackstone, the Middleton Murderer, serial killer, and so-called madman, remaining as a guest in the home of Stefan Devaney, Lord of Green Acres. How would it even work?

How would it work logistically? Just set him up in the guest wing of the house and pray none of the casual staff spotted him? The man wouldn’t be able to go outside, lest he be seen by visitors. Not that Stefan was planning on having many of those in the future. There would be no more of…those parties. No more strangers feasting their eyes on his Peter.

There would be no more parties and Stefan rarely invited friends or business associates to his home anyway, preferring to meet with them on neutral ground, in their offices, in coffee shops etc. His home had always been for his private doings.

It might actually work. Edward was not going to say anything to anyone about Lucas. Frederick would keep his gob shut once he’d spoken with him, and Kline, as he’d just said, was known for his discretion. The Winslow lad might be an issue, but he was confident he could find a way to ensure his silence. Which only left the casual staff. And without any parties planned for the foreseeable future he could whittle those down to those few needed to keep the place hoovered and dusted. They did not visit every day and, as long as their schedules were well known, Blackstone could plan his movements accordingly. Logistically it could work.

Stefan rubbed his fingers together, feeling the prickling in the tips and the sweat gathering in his palms.

Was he actually considering this? Lucas Blackstone staying here, in his house, in the house he shared with Peter and William.

Blackstone had ties to each man. Stefan knew all of what the man had done with William. Will had held back no detail, however graphic. As for what Lucas had done with Peter… He wasn’t entirely clear on that. Blackstone refused to be graphic there.

Had Stefan truly wanted him to be? Did he really want to know those details? Did he need to?

He shifted in the seat.

He had ties to Blackstone now and, if he expected Peter to later reveal everything he’d done with the man, wasn’t it only fair that he be as candid with him?

He felt Kline’s gaze still on him and turned away from it.

Why had he done it, he wondered? He’d only ever let Peter go that way with him. He was Stefan Devaney. The great Devaney. Ever the top never the bottom. Always the master and not the mastered. Until Peter. And he’d done that because it had been right and fair. Peter had been so nervous, afraid. Afraid of him, his desires, and what he might do to satiate them. It had taken him great courage to place himself again in his hands, to give him his body when others had used it so, hurt him so badly. It was only fair that he show that same courage. He had never been with another that way and it was right that Peter should be the one to have that.

The only one, he had thought at the time. He’d never even gone that way with William, never even considered it. So why give what was Peter’s to another, to a man like Blackstone?

The first time had been borne of a need to understand, to know something of what had been done to Peter, to share in some small way in his pain. Though, in truth, had Lucas really hurt him that first time? It had been rough, intense, and he limped home sore between his legs, but he hadn’t been truly hurt, hadn’t known that same feeling of sick terror that Peter had felt on waking up on that dusty warehouse floor.

He’d known a little discomfort and told himself it was something he needed. A little punishment for not having seen sooner just how Peter had been suffering.

But what about what he’d just recently done? What had that been about? Blackstone had pleasured him, and he’d let him. Why? And what was he to tell Peter?

All, he knew.

He would tell him all. They would tell each other all. Well, maybe not quite all. There was no need to tell him about the killings, but the other stuff… The personal stuff… That stuff needed to be revealed. If he claimed to love Peter, he owed him the truth. And he wanted it too. He wanted to know what Peter had done with Blackstone. If he’d truly consented. If he’d liked it. He wouldn’t be angry, but he did need to know. And if he expected Peter to be candid with him, he could do no less the other way.

He stood abruptly.

Time to talk to Lucas.

He couldn’t stay here, could he? With him. In the house he shared with Peter and William. It would never work. Would it?

CHAPTER TWO

Lucas was sitting in the chair opposite Stefan’s, one leg slung casually over the other, but there was nothing casual about the way he gazed around the study, drinking in all the sights with his eyes.

This was the room in which the greasy little writer had assaulted William. This was where his connection to Stefan had started. If Preston had not attacked Will Stefan would never have come to see him in the hospital. He never would have requested his help. Never would have arranged for his escape.

He ought to thank the writer, he supposed. That man’s actions had gifted him with Peter and now Stefan. And now he was here, in this house, where sweet William now resided.

He glanced up at the ceiling.

Somewhere above was his room. His, or did he share it? With Stefan. With Peter. Was he up there now, lying naked beneath cool covers, snuggled up with precious Peter?

He turned as the door opened.

Were the two of them naked, cuddled together, awaiting this man to join them?

Stefan. He inclined his head.

Lucas, he intoned after a long pause.

Blackstone watched him cross the floor with measured strides.

The man had hesitated only briefly in the doorway but now he was regaining his confidence. This was his home, his turf. He felt strong here. And why wouldn’t he? He had his people here. The beefy stable-hand, the steely-eyed butler, and the cold-eyed bodyguard who Lucas had spied in the corridor just before Stefan had closed the study door.

He frowned momentarily. Shouldn’t he be wherever Peter is?

Peter is fine right now. Thomas is keeping an eye on the Winslow boy.

And you are keeping an eye on me. Lucas smiled faintly. Or is that to be that guy’s job? He nodded towards the closed door. "Is he my bodyguard now?"

He has his instructions, yes.

And you think him a match for me? Lucas’s mouth quirked. Does he need to be? Do you think I’m here to harm anyone? Your precious Peter perhaps.

I don’t know why you are here. Stefan sat. You said you were leaving.

Did I? I don’t think I actually did. Besides. Lucas shrugged. Where would I go? I’m a wanted man. I should lie-low until the heat has cooled. And why not lie-low here? Who would think to look for the Middleton Murderer in this of all places?

You could lie-low anywhere. Why specifically here? Stefan stared hard at Lucas. Why here? he repeated. What do you want, truthfully? Do you want… He licked his lips, …William or…?

Or? Blackstone flashed a grin. Or Peter. Is that what you were going to say? Do you fear I’ve come to steal him away? He recrossed his legs, smiling inwardly as he saw how Stefan noted the motion closely. Perhaps I’m here for you, Stefan. The Lord of Green Acres got my blood pumping and now I want more. I’ve never tasted such rich flesh before. Perhaps I liked it and wish to taste it again.

Stefan pursed his lips. What do you want? he said again, crossly.

Lucas shrugged. I need somewhere to stay. Why not here? You wanted me to help you, Stefan, to help keep Peter safe from those who hurt him. I have taken care of some bad men, but the world is full of them, and your scary bodyguard out there has but one set of eyes. Your Peter is not yet totally safe. You did not see what I saw.

Oh?

The Winslow boy.

What about him?

He was making himself known to your Peter.

Making himself known?

Getting frisky. Overly friendly.

Touching him? Stefan felt something cold uncoil within him.

A little more than touching.

Hurting him? Stefan placed hands on the table, readying himself to lunge up at a moment’s notice.

I don’t know about that. The lad’s intentions were not quite clear to me. Peter was unclear about them. He’s still very confused about certain things. His confusion makes him vulnerable. The Winslow boy might have been taking advantage. He might not have been. I didn’t see enough of the altercation to fully judge it. He bears watching though. Your Peter still needs watching.

And I will do so.

Two pairs of eyes are better than one.

Mr Kline will be watching.

And three pairs of eyes are better than two. And he’s not the only one who bears watching.

Stefan stared at him. Me?

You have done some things, Stefan. Things you are unaccustomed to. You think you’re fine with them and maybe you are. And maybe you’re not. Such bloody deeds have a way of coming back to haunt us.

Haunt you, do they? Stefan snarled.

Not in the same way they will you. I do not forget the things I do, Stefan. I may not feel the way others feel about things, but I am not unaffected by them. I am still a human being. I know what I’ve done, and I know the importance of those acts. I do not dismiss them lightly. Nor should you. You killed people, Stefan. People who deserved it perhaps but that doesn’t always matter. You may start to feel things about that, and you may need to talk about it. You can hardly share such things with Peter, but you can share them with me.

Are you saying we should become…friends? Stefan scoffed.

Why not? We have shared experiences. We have things in common. We both care about the same things…the same people, he added quietly.

Stefan’s stomach tightened. So, it was about Peter.

Blackstone had done…something with him. Stefan did not know the details and was torn between wanting to know so badly it was eating him up to being afraid to ask. Blackstone and Peter had been together, and he had decided to be all right with that.

Peter deserved whatever pleasure he could get in his life, from whomsoever he wanted to get it. He had taken pleasure from William and Stefan hadn’t minded that. He couldn’t be churlish now and refuse Peter any pleasure he might have got with this man. Whatever made Peter happy made him happy.

One time though. He was all right with it being one time. If Peter had needed a moment with this man, then okay. One moment to take whatever it was he required. That was fine. Peter had had a bad fright, accosted by that man, by a dark shadow from his past. He’d needed rescuing. He’d needed comfort, kindness, and care. From what little he had learned it seemed as though he’d got that with Lucas. He couldn’t be angry. He couldn’t be jealous. And he wasn’t. He didn’t think. Was he?

The knot in his guts felt more like a result of fear, not anger or jealousy.

Blackstone was here to take Peter from him. One time had not been enough for him. How could it have been? No one could know Peter just the once. He was a man who made others want more of him. He had wanted more. Still did. Peter was a delight. His delight. To be without him was unthinkable.

Was Blackstone really going to try and take him though? Would he have to fight him for Peter?

There was a certain appeal to the thought, but Stefan was man enough to consider the fact he might lose. He’d certainly not best Blackstone physically if it came down to an actual fight. The man had proved his strength more than satisfactorily.

But the guy didn’t have to drag Peter bodily from the house to get him. He might need only ask. Would Peter go with him if he did?

Peter loved him. He didn’t doubt that. But Blackstone was him to the power of ten. They looked alike, so alike it really was quite disconcerting. Lucas could have been his slightly older, beefier, taller big brother. Why wouldn’t Peter be tempted? A man who looked like him but was slightly better in every way. A man who had saved him when he had been elsewhere, ignorant of his plight. A man who had continued to keep him safe and had… What? What had it been, mere fucking or tender lovemaking? Had Blackstone pinned Peter to the bed and used him without mercy or had he touched him gently, kissed his scars, kissed his mouth?

He glared across the table.

Had that quirking mouth tasted his Peter’s lips? Had Peter moaned softly and returned the kiss with equal desire?

The knot in his stomach tightened further.

Lucas gazed back at him, softly smiling, knowing what thoughts Stefan was likely thinking.

Ah, Stefan, such fear and so unnecessary. I would not steal him from you. I will know him again. Him and my sweet William. And you, my worried lord. I will know you again. In your bed perhaps, with your Peter looking on. Would he like that, do you think? You have seen him with others many times but when has he seen you with another? Has he ever? Would he like to?

Perhaps something of his thoughts showed on his face because Stefan stood abruptly, colour rising to his cheeks, and swept around the table.

It is too late to be discussing this further.

It is nearly proper morning, Lucas replied, gesturing to the window where the sun was just making itself known in a slowly brightening sky.

Stefan stared at him for a moment. Day. Night. Whatever. I am tired. I’m going to bed.

Lucas’ eyes flashed.

To join your Peter? Will you sleep, my lord? Are you so tired that you won’t take a moment to enjoy him, to make sure he knows you’re back and that he is once again yours?

He moistened his mouth.

Does my sweet William lie beside Peter? Will you enjoy them both?

We all need to get some rest. No one here is clearly thinking properly. Edward will have made up a guest bed for you by now. I’ll have him escort you. Stay out of sight until I send for you again.

Yes, my lord. Lucas grinned.

Stefan’s mouth hardened. We will discuss your crazy ideas more fully when both of us have had some time to think.

He walked away, opening the door and stepping through it, muttering to himself as he left the room.

Friends indeed. Shared experiences, he scoffed.

He clamped down on anything more he might have said, seeing Kline still waiting in the corridor.

Find out what room Edward has placed Mr Blackstone in, he ordered him. Then move in to the room next to his. That way you’ll be close at hand to hear his comings and goings.

Yes, sir. The man will be staying then?

For the moment. As to later. I am musing on that.

And Mr Winslow, sir?

I will think on that too.

Stefan turned his back on Kline and mounted the stairs.

Blackstone possibly here to take Peter from him. Had Michael come to take William?

He halted on the stairs.

It was Peter he loved (and must tell him so soon) but the thought that William too would be taken from him by another was as unpleasant a possibility as having Peter taken. If not for William, he would never have had Peter back in his life so fully. William had given Peter back his courage. To lose either would be unbearable.

Blackstone wanted to stay here. If he let him, he might have to share Peter with him but that was doable. If it was what Peter wanted, or needed, he would allow it. Peter’s happiness was his happiness. But what of Winslow? He’d been allowed to stay here but was it what he wanted, to remain and be close to Will? Sharing William would be less onerous than sharing Peter. William wasn’t his to command and Will had a history with Winslow.

He had a history with Blackstone too.

Stefan would have little trouble sharing Will with Winslow or even Blackstone if it came to that, but would Michael have the same ease?

What was that lad doing here? He would have to find out.

Another discussion for later.

He rubbed at his left temple.

Blackstone, Winslow, Peter. So many conversations needing to be had. And William would have questions for him no doubt. And Edward would want some words with him later. He clearly wasn’t happy about things. He suspected even the unreadable Mr Kline would have a few things to say if he asked him.

He was exhausted just thinking about it.

He carried on up the stairs, down the corridor and stopped outside his door.

He took a steadying breath and entered the room.

CHAPTER THREE

It was past dinnertime when Peter woke, stretching in the bed, wincing at the snaps and pops his body made. He glanced left then right, disheartened to see he was alone.

He’d gone to sleep with Will tucked against his stomach and Stefan pressed tight to his back, the man reaching to hold them both in his grip.

The man had said little beyond the fact they would talk when everyone was better rested. There had been no lovemaking but, as Peter had drifted off, he had felt Stefan’s mouth press lightly to his right shoulder, his lips warm against a patch of skin that had not been touched by a burning cigarette.

A very light kiss but one that had gladdened Peter. He didn’t know why Lucas was here or what he might have told Stefan but whatever the man knew he wasn’t angry. There had been tenderness in that soft kiss and his arms around him had spoken volumes. A tight grasp that had encompassed him and Will. Mine, Stefan had been saying without speaking. Mine, regardless of what might have happened with others.

He’d drifted happily into sleep but now he was awake and neither Stefan nor Will was here to greet him. Was Will with Michael, catching up, talking about the future…their future? Was Stefan with Lucas? What were they talking about?

Perhaps Lucas had told Stefan nothing yet but was doing so now.

He sat up in the bed, feeling suddenly cold and hugged his knees to his chest.

Would Lucas tell Stefan everything, all about the warehouse and…that man, and what they had done after?

What worried him more, Stefan finding out what he’d done to Hargrave or what he’d done with Lucas?

You got him for me, didn’t you, he thought again.

Lucas had been at Stefan’s house the night of the party when that monster had accosted him. Very conveniently there, he’d thought afterwards. Luckily so but still good timing.

He hadn’t just been passing by. Stefan had invited him. He was almost sure.

Lucas Blackstone: tall, dark and handsome; looking so much like Stefan Peter had at first thought it was him. The man had rescued him, taken care of him, and told him he’d been asked to do so by Stefan. Stefan had hired him as a… As a what?

He wasn’t Kline. No bodyguard him.

Assassin, he’d also thought at the time. Hired killer. Stefan had hired a man to kill other men. Men who had hurt him. And he’d hired a man who was almost his literal twin. Why do that? He must have known he’d see the similarities and find them attractive. Had it been his plan? Had Lucas been Stefan’s idea of a gift to him. It certainly felt like something he’d do. Stefan had been so angry at what had been done to him (William had even said he’d cried!). He’d wanted to avenge him but men like Stefan did not dirty their own hands. Guys like Stefan hired others to do their bidding: lawyers, accountants, cleaners, cooks. Why not killers too? To Stefan Lucas would be just another employee. He would have rationalised it that way.

But why hire a guy who looked so much like him? There had to be other men like Lucas in the world, men with skills. Why choose one who was almost the spit of him?

He knew why.

Stefan had wanted to press the message home. Those men hurt you and they will pay. I will make them pay. I will avenge you. I will honour you.

But, unable to do it himself, because he was no mad killer, he’d hired a guy who looked so much like him that it was as though it had been him.

Peter shivered again, imagining that it had been. Stefan with him in that warehouse, his hand around his as they’d thrust the knife in together. Stefan who’d made love to him in that cottage in that narrow bed only just big enough for two.

He hadn’t cheated because it hadn’t really been Lucas. It had been Stefan in disguise.

He hadn’t been cheating because even if it really had been Lucas Stefan had chosen him for him. He’d been a gift. Whatever Lucas was now telling Stefan it didn’t matter because Stefan wasn’t angry. How could he be? It had all been his doing, his plan.

Still, Peter shivered again.

It was one thing to be almost sure that Stefan had planned all this and was therefore okay with the results and another to know that Lucas might now be telling him every detail of what occurred after his rescue from the library.

Was Lucas telling him all: his getting on his knees to suck the man’s dick in that grimy bathroom, then having sex back at the cottage – in the bed, then the shower, then in the bed again – Lucas touching his scars, fingers between his legs, going inside, the man kissing him so delightfully.

He would have stayed longer in that house if Lucas had wanted it. He’d wanted to spend more time with him. He’d enjoyed the kisses.

Was Lucas telling Stefan that?

He liked it, my lord. He loved it. He moaned and pleaded for more. He was scared at first, but I was gentle and once he knew he could handle my girth he craved more. There was hunger in his kiss. There was love in it.

Peter clambered out of the bed and hurriedly dressed.

He had to see Stefan now, had to tell him. It was just something I needed in that moment. Don’t be angry. I still love you. I’ve always loved you. You know that don’t you? You must.

As he was pulling on his shirt he wondered if it wasn’t the sex stuff Lucas was telling Stefan. Perhaps it was the other stuff.

Sliced it off he did. Your precious Peter, your sweet weakling, your fragile lad. He took that knife and sliced that offending member right off. And shivered with pleasure when it plopped to the floor.

Had he?

He could barely remember cutting with that knife, the knife Lucas had gifted him, which he still had and was keeping hidden from Stefan.

Some part of his mind knew exactly what he’d done but he couldn’t seem to recall what feelings had been attached to those actions at the time.

Had it given him pleasure to hurt Hargrave in such an intimate fashion? Had it given him satisfaction or outright giddy happiness. You did what you did to me. You deserve this. I hope it fucking hurts. It pleases me to hurt you. Is that what he’d felt at the time?

He couldn’t remember.

Suddenly all he could remember was the smell of blood. Not smell… Stink. Stench. Reeking stench. A hot sharp odour that stung his eyes and made them water.

So much blood pouring from the man’s wounds. A torrent of blood. As there had been the night he’d been attacked.

All that blood leaking out of him down there. A river of it it’d seemed. Blood dripping down his face, drying to a smelly crust. The taste of rusty metal in his throat.

He struggled not to gag now and forced himself to continue dressing before he went to the door and yanked it open with a shaking hand.

He bit the end of his tongue as a figure nearly bumped into him in the corridor.

My apologies, Mr Barrington. Kline stepped back.

No. No. My fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Peter noted the large bags being held in the other man’s strong hands.

Huge bags that he hefted as though they weighed less than nothing.

Going somewhere?

Just switching rooms. These are the last of my things then I’m done. Mr Devaney thought I’d be more comfortable sleeping across from Mr Blackstone.

Oh?

Was Kline guarding Lucas now? Why? Did Stefan want to be sure he and that guy would not have a chance to even speak, let alone anything else, without witnesses?

Anything else?

What anything else was he contemplating? Him and Lucas had been a one-time thing, right? It had just been something he’d needed in that moment. They weren’t together now. He was home. Stefan was home. They were together. He wanted no one else. He needed no one else.

Except for William.

And Thomas.

Stefan didn’t mind about William. Would he mind about Thomas? If he minded about Lucas, why was he letting him stay?

Stay while being watched by Kline.

Yes, but still remaining. He could have sent him away. Why hadn’t he? Did he have further plans for him?

Lucas’ job as – he gulped – assassin was over. There were no more bad guys for him to kill. So why wasn’t Stefan sending him on his way? Did he have other plans for the man?

An image leapt into his mind. Him and Lucas together in Stefan’s bed, William with them (he knew Lucas from somewhere), and Stefan watching.

He shuddered.

That would be something Stefan might have done before – one of his little games – but was it something he’d do now?

Was it something he’d like? Stefan and Lucas, so alike as to be practically twins. What would it be like to have them together in the same bed?

He swallowed, feeling his cheeks warming as Kline stared at him with his unreadable face.

Where is Mr Devaney now? he asked, forcing calm into his tone.

I believe he’s having words with Mr Winslow in his room.

And…Mr Blackstone?

Still asleep I believe. Mr Mayfair is downstairs in the library. Some more decorations have been brought down from the attic and he wanted to add them to the room. He didn’t wake you because he said you needed the rest. Kline peered at him. Did you get any? You look…troubled.

I’m fine. There’s just a lot going on and with it being nearly Christmas it’s just a little extra stress. I’m fine really, he insisted.

As you say, sir. Kline gripped his bags tighter. Well, I must get on. If you plan on leaving the house today, please alert me. I may have been given extra duties by his lordship but my main one is still your protection.

I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while. Not until the weather improves. I’m not much for the cold.

Very good, sir. If you change your mind, be certain to let me know.

I will.

Peter turned and headed off downstairs.

Kline stood for a moment, watching him, his mouth pursed in thought.

----

Michael struggled to keep from squirming.

He would not squirm. He’d faced worse than the so-called great Devaney. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? Standing there trying to stare him down. Did he not know who he was? Who his father was?

His mouth thinned briefly.

He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t like him. Had never wanted to be like him. Though for a short time he had. But it had been necessary, a way of surviving. That time was over. He didn’t need to be his father, to be like him. It probably wouldn’t work with this man anyway. The likes of Stefan Devaney weren’t cowed by people like the Winslows. Lord Devaney, he sneered inwardly. His kind looked down their noses at everyone. Fucking arrogant snooty bastard.

Snooty bastard that Will was currently fucking.

Being fucked by, he amended.

He knew how William preferred it. He knew what he liked. I wasn’t his first but as close as, he sent with his eyes. Whatever you do with him, your lordship, he’s likely comparing it to what I did. Are you so much better? Did you do things with him that can even compare? He smiled faintly, thinking of the kitchen and the bandstand. How long ago that now seemed. They’d been practically kids, but they’d known well what they wanted. Each other. Totally. Kissing, touching, the whole works. No skimping or holding back. Fully immersed in one another, excluding all others.

Michael snarled silently.

William was likely now fully immersed in what he did with this bloke. He was not a one to hold back, whoever he was with.

His brain crackled as he remembered walking in on him and Gregory. Will had been clutching so tight to him, a look of near desperation on his face as he’d fought for every second of pleasure.

Jesus! He hadn’t known he’d seen that so clearly.

He turned away, not wanting Devaney to see the heat gathering in his face.

Michael Winslow, the man intoned behind him. I’ve heard a lot about you. Never thought I’d get to see you but, now, here you are.

Yes, here I am, Michael thought. And why the hell did I come?

He’d had a plan at the time but now couldn’t seem to recall it. Why had he come? To see Will, have it out with him, demand explanations, apologies…get some revenge?

Would screwing Barrington have hurt Will as much as him having screwed his dad had hurt him? Was it actually what he wanted? Would it make them even?

Barrington. Christ, he thought. All those scars and in such intimate places. What sort of monster did something like that to another?

Will had a few scars, he remembered. Faint now, faded after so many years, but Barrington’s had been so many and so vivid on his skin. And Will had not flinched so much on having his touched. Barrington had twitched and squirmed at even the gentlest of his caresses. He wondered if Will had touched those scars.

Of course, he had. Touched and tasted them most likely. He tried not to groan thinking of that. Will’s hot mouth sliding over Barrington’s twitching flesh. Will’s lips nibbling. His tongue licking.

A tonic Barrington had said. Will had soothed him and made him feel better.

Would he do the same for him if he let him?

Of course, he would but would he let him? Should he? Was that why he was here, because he’d missed him and needed him?

He breathed hard.

He didn’t know anymore. He was damned confused. He hated Will, didn’t he? Him and Gregory, naked, bodies entwined, Will’s legs wide open. He couldn’t get that image out of his head. Yet… Yet what?

Would he go to him if Will held out his arms? Would he race to him to kiss again those lips, to touch again that wonderful body, to sink once more into that so welcoming flesh?

Sit down, Stefan uttered behind him. We need to talk.

Michael turned. I’ll stand, he growled.

Very well. Stefan shrugged and he sat, getting comfy in a chair, crossing one leg smartly over the other and gazing up at Michael with interest and maybe a little more.

Michael shivered inwardly.

Such a lot going on in the great Devaney’s dark eyes. Not quite as dark as the other guy’s but close.

He shuddered, thinking of him.

Blackstone. Lucas Blackstone. Killer, criminal, madman some said.

He’d known all three in his life. His own father was hardly a model citizen. Killer, he wasn’t sure, but he was definitely a criminal.

Lucas Blackstone was something else though.

Now images of Gregory were supplanted in his head by images of the killer. Him and Will in a white van, battery-powered lights twinkling above a pristine mattress, Will writhing on black-clad fingers.

He swallowed dryly.

Did Devaney know what kind of man Blackstone was?

Damn, they looked a lot alike, he realised with a start. They weren’t related, were they? Would it be super creepy if they were? Will was likely screwing Devaney now and had fucked the killer in the past. What was he doing with them now? Did he do them both in the same bed, with Barrington watching?

Fucking hell! Why was he thinking these thoughts? Where was his head at lately?

It was this house.

He’d thought so before and he thought so again that this place was somehow…infected with lust. Desire was soaked into the walls. Hunger rose from the carpets. There was a musk in the air. It had wormed its way inside him, making him think things and feel things, clouding his reason.

What had he been going to do to Barrington? He’d had him bent over that chest of drawers, the guy naked, his mouth fastened tight to him down there.

He tried not to lick his lips lest Devaney see the motion and wonder at it.

Barrington had tasted good and something about the added roughness of that tender skin had further inflamed him. He’d have smoothed it right down had he not been interrupted. He would have soothed the guy as Will had.

But then there he’d been, the killer, the criminal, the potential psycho, swooping in like some sort of dark avenger. Barrington knew him somehow. There had been a connection there.

Jeez. What was it with these people? Will, Barrington, Blackstone, Devaney. All connected. Did they all know each other…intimately? He knew Blackstone and Will had been together. And the way the killer had come to Barrington’s rescue like that had seemed an act borne of more than mere friendship. Were Blackstone and Devaney screwing too? Was that messed up? He didn’t know.

This house. He flexed his shoulders. This house. It did something.

What of that big guy he’d seen with Barrington? They’d been more than friendly. And the cold-eyed bodyguard. Was he in the mix? If not, would he be so soon? Would the atmosphere get to him too? He could picture him with Will. William liked big guys and though the guy was cold and exuded a fearsome presence he knew that wouldn’t put him off. If he was willing to part them for a madman a guy with chilly eyes wouldn’t deter him.

Though maybe Mr Kline would prefer Barrington. Or perhaps he’d end up bending over for Devaney. The man was his boss and gave off a very commanding vibe. It was taking all his effort not to give in and sit.

He would not sit. He would not be told what to do. He’d had his fill of that.

He stared Devaney square in the face though it was damn hard. The guy just looked back with a gaze that was briefly vaguely amused but then turned swiftly to thoughtful, then annoyed, then curious. Various expressions raced across the man’s face until it settled into neutrality.

Michael Winslow, he repeated. Michael Winslow, son of Gregory. Why are you here? Never mind, he added. Why no longer matters. What does is the fact that you are here, and I must decide what to do about that fact.

He sat back and placed a hand on his knee, fingers idly tapping.

Blackstone said he caught you…making yourself known to Peter.

Michael studied the other’s man face more carefully.

It was still in its neutral state. Very purposefully blank, he thought, but there was a light gathering in those dark eyes. A light that told him to be wary now.

I will be frank with you, Michael. May I call you Michael? You and I have both done too much to be embarrassed by intimate talk. I have been with your William. Do you still think of him as yours? I have enjoyed him, more than once, and he me, but what I feel for him could not, I think, be called love. A great liking certainly. He is a delight, isn’t he? If I have any love in me, it is for Peter.

Devaney’s tone was suddenly stern. Make sure you listen and hear me well, it said.

Peter is for me, I think, the one. He is special. Precious, he murmured, mostly to himself. He looked hard at Michael. I would do anything for him. Anything, he stressed. I would murder the world to keep him from further harm. It would grieve me to learn that you had hurt him. Did you hurt him, Michael?

No. I did not.

Would he back up that statement if I asked him?

Michael wet his mouth cautiously. I may have come on strong and confused him, but I did not harm him.

But you were…making yourself known to him. Touching him.

Devaney’s eyes were almost black now. Did the guy even have pupils?

Did he consent? Was he willing?

I… He… He was confused, Michael admitted. So was I, he added softly. I was…angry…with Will. He…

Your father. Yes, I know all about it.

Of course, you do, Michael thought bitterly. Told you all about it, did he? Did he cry? Did you tell him to forgive himself?

He caused you pain and you thought to cause him pain, was that it? You saw how it was with him and my Peter, that there is a bond between them. You thought to cause him pain by breaking it.

Michael said nothing to that.

If Blackstone had not interrupted, what would you have done? Would you have fucked my Peter?

Devaney asked the question with a sudden smile but there was no humour in his eyes.

I would not have hurt him, Michael insisted. I saw his scars, he said, forcing himself to meet that dark gaze without flinching. I would not have hurt him. I was just…

Just? What? What would he have done if not interrupted?

"My Peter is a handsome lad and has turned many a man’s head.