Chapter 24 - More Than A Kiss
After a few days absence due to feeling a little in need of a break from Freeman's, Sawyer decides to visit Warrick.
Back to Chapter 23
You want to stay with me in the morning
You only hold me when I sleep,
I was meant to tread the water
Now I've gotten in too deep,
For every piece of me that wants you
Another piece backs away.
'Cause you give me something
That makes me scared, alright,
This could be nothing
But I'm willing to give it a try,
Please give me something
'Cause someday I might know my heart.
'You Give Me Something' James Morrison
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s993u4qAyiw
Slowly making his way up the hill towards Freeman's, Sawyer stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He'd had a hard night the evening before, gambling away far more than he'd won for a change, and drinking even more. Things had definitely taken a turn for the worse lately, and Sawyer hadn't been near Freeman's in the last few days.
This morning, however, when he'd woken up in his room sticky-tongued and wooden-headed, he'd cursed the booze and decided a walk to visit Warrick-whom he hadn't seen since the day after he'd let Naveen bind him in ropes-would be the best way to clear his head. Sawyer couldn't think about that particular scene in any other way right now. It had been too disturbing, and was part of why he'd decided to keep away from Freeman's for the meantime. He didn't want to think on the other part of the why either.
The idea of a quick visit with Warrick didn't seem such a big deal though. He hadn't even been doing that for these few days, far too worried he'd accidentally bump into Jack, who had been there a couple of times when Sawyer visited after Warrick had first arrived. This morning, however, he hoped the doctor wouldn't be in attendance. If he was, Sawyer intended to simply slip away again. It was too early to expect to run into Naveen in the hallways with any luck, anyway.
Coming up to the gate of the place and starting to feel a little warm in the pleasant fall day, Sawyer paused to loosen his collar somewhat and was surprised to see the man he was intending to visit out in the sunny garden. It was the first time he'd seen Warrick up and about and the mulatto was looking good. Much better than just a few days ago when he couldn't sit upright for long and was still being attended fairly regularly by his carers. He was apparently alone now though, and Sawyer smiled gladly. He wouldn't mind talking to him by himself and properly now Warrick was back on his feet. They'd hardly had much chance before, and Sawyer needed to be sure his latest find was happy enough to have been saved and brought somewhere like Freeman's.
"Warrick?" he called discretely, not wanting to scare the man, as he entered the gate and headed towards the garden.
It had been the camellias that had done it. Tired of inaction as he healed, Warrick had paced the public rooms. The servants had been bustling around restocking and cleaning in preparation for the evening to come. He had just sat at the piano and tentatively struck a couple notes when he was gently nudged away so the gleaming wood could be burnished until it glowed. He'd next wandered to the windows where the sun poured through the stained glass panels above creating a kaleidoscope on the carpet. The sun's warmth drew him outdoors, and the surprise of the well-tended garden brought a smile to his face. Long, graceful fingers explored the varied textured leaves, and brought fragrant blooms up to his nose.
Then the camellias, blush pink, gentle scented, and memories of René assaulted him. Long walks along the rocky coastline, smoky evenings in the cabaret, quiet voices whispering against sated flesh in a tangle of damp bed sheets, all of these moments and more nearly brought Warrick to his knees.
On the light breeze, ghost-like, his name came to him in a tone reminiscent of his dead lover's soft questioning. A shiver running through him, Warrick's knees did wobble. When he spun around, René's beloved form wavered before him, until sea-foam green eyes and soft tendrils of blond hair overlaid his vision.
"H-hello..." wavering at first, the smile that lit his face dimpled one cheek and lightened exotic green eyes.
Sawyer couldn't help smiling in reply to the way the dusky-skinned man's face lit up at seeing him. A tightening in Josh's chest was ignored as he cleared his throat and approached the green-eyed beauty. With everything happening lately, there was no reason to include Warrick in the confusion swirling through Sawyer's mind. He was just glad the man he'd managed to extricate from the filthy bathhouse with Marton and his bouncers' help was looking so much better than when he'd first been brought here.
"You're looking well," Sawyer told Warrick as he stopped a mere step away from the beautiful man.
Not wanting Warrick to think he was trying to push for anything like what had happened at the Coast before Warrick was ready and able to start work, Sawyer hooked his thumbs in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet, studying the plants Warrick had obviously been admiring before Sawyer called to him.
"You like camellias? Miss Marg and her chinks have done a fine job this year. The garden here is certainly becoming something for her to be proud of."
While Sawyer didn't have a great deal of love for women in his bed, Josh's mama had taught him well and his background of being at home equally with fluttering debutantes and hard-working newly-freed slaves had made him every inch the southern gentleman in any woman's company. However, there were some he distinctly admired more than others. Marg easily fell into this category, as did the widely-girthed cook they employed at Freeman's.
Warrick smelled better than the flowers, Sawyer decided as he took a deep sniff to better appreciate everything on offer nearby. He snuck a sideways glance to admire the much healthier-looking man beside him again. He wouldn't mention how often he'd been to visit Warrick since he arrived, then perhaps it wouldn't matter that Sawyer hadn't been seen here for a few days. He still wondered if Warrick had missed him, but there was no easy way to ask.
"They must be looking after you, anyway," he decided, giving Warrick a more open examination, the pleased smile still dimpling his cheeks.
Warrick couldn't say the same about Sawyer. Despite the dazzling grin, dissipation showed in the pasty complexion and dark smudges beneath the amazing green eyes. "Yet you look like hell," he teased, then his own smile turned bashful. "It's thanks to you, and them, I... thank you," was all he could say without choking up and embarrassing himself further.
It was more than that he most likely owed his life to this man. There was something else that drew Warrick to Sawyer. The man embraced life on his terms, the rest of the world be damned. That attitude both thrilled Warrick and scared him, because he could fall for this man--this client--and that was something he could not allow to happen.
Only remembering that Sawyer had visited at odd times when he was still floating in and out of consciousness, Warrick didn't realize Sawyer had been there daily. "Are you here to see someone in particular, to... er...‘unwind' upstairs?" he stuttered, shuffling his feet until a spasm made him flinch.
Sawyer's smile faltered at the words about his own looks, although he knew Warrick was partly teasing. It was probably much truer than he'd realised. Sawyer wasn't someone who immediately checked his appearance in a mirror each day and it hadn't even occurred to him that he looked worse for wear, even though it should have done after his hard living the last few days. Briefly, he wondered if Jack looked as bad, but he pushed the thought away before it became anything too powerful.
"You're welcome," he offered instead, leaning forward to sniff more fully at one of the flowers, and at the same time allowing him to turn his face away from Warrick.
At Warrick's question, Sawyer drew a breath to answer, wanting to make things clear, but before he could do so, the mulatto appeared to waver on his feet and Sawyer immediately put out a hand to steady him, his words forgotten. One hand against Warrick's hip, it was almost automatic to place his other hand at Warrick's other side as he furrowed his brow in concern.
"We should get you sitting down," he said from much closer now, his worry for Warrick almost secondary to the wave of desire that passed through him at their proximity. Unable to stop himself, Sawyer licked his lips as he studied the other man's face. "There's a bench seat over there; let's get you on it."
Warrick tried to protest, but the wrap around his midsection was too tight, triggering another spasm. He breathed shallowly as Sawyer helped him sit. "I'll be fine soon, just can't catch my breath," he panted. Every breath that he did draw was filled with the scent of the man next to him. Mon Dieu, he felt like a school boy again, body tightening in desire just being in proximity of such a sensual man. Sawyer was here as a client, not to be catering to an invalid.
"Thank you," Warrick repeated, "I will be fine, and don't mean to keep you from your business." He squirmed in embarrassment and plucked at the tight binding visible in the opening of the loose shirt he wore.
Sitting next to Warrick, Sawyer kept one arm around the man's shoulder loosely, unsure what to do with his other hand. Sawyer's eyes dropped to the binding around Warrick's chest as the mulatto fiddled with it.
"I... I came to see you, actually," Sawyer admitted, a slight flush rising as he reached his free hand towards Warrick's, stopping himself at the last moment from touching more than just the other man's hand. He couldn't meet Warrrick's eyes as he drew away from touching him altogether, although he stayed on the bench, still close enough he could reach if needed.
"You're obviously not fully healed. Is that too tight? Should I help you back inside to have it seen to?" he asked, finally lifting his eyes to the amazing green ones that seemed out of place on a dark man, but that gave him an added attraction that doubtless turned more heads than just Sawyer's.
He swallowed hard at the sight of them, sure he should move away, but all Sawyer could think now was how much he wanted to kiss this man. His eyes dropped to the luscious full lips and unconsciously he licked his own. Remembering how uneasy Warrick had been at the bathhouse when he'd asked to do just that, Sawyer held himself back. He shouldn't be thinking like this at all. Kissing that way was not for men and their whores.
"You... you did?" Warrick's cheeks also heated and his eyes lowered to Sawyer's hand that hovered and then moved away.
When Sawyer mentioned taking him indoors, Warrick called out a harsh "No!" eyes flying up to Sawyer's bowed head. "I'm sorry, I mean only Cook and the others, they mean well, but they don't have the same touch as..." Warrick's voice trailed off before mentioning that the doctor hadn't been around in days. The softness in Sawyer's eyes snared him, and his breath caught in his throat.
Sawyer's eyes rose at the harshly blurted word and he frowned slightly at the explanation following. Who? Whose touch was he referring to? Sawyer forgot the question before he'd even asked it at the look in Warrick's eyes, and unable to stop himself this time, he leaned in, kissing the softness of lips he'd wanted to caress this way since he first saw them.
It was completely different from kissing both Naveen and Jack, not that he'd had much opportunity to do this with either of those men recently. Naveen, because he just didn't allow many kisses to Sawyer; not usually this kind of chaste, exploratory kiss, anyway. And Jack, because they simply didn't kiss this way any more. Sawyer carefully shut out the memory of two very different nights much more recently that had included such delicate caresses from each of them, and gave in to the warmth of Warrick's lips.
Confusion swirled around Sawyer's mind even more now he was kissing another man. Closing his eyes, he allowed a hand to wander into Warrick's tight curls, holding the mulatto close with a gentle touch.
Images of Matt, naked and wanting, merged with ones of Naveen, his eyes harsh but full of a different kind of need. Both of these men kept Sawyer close somehow in a kind of inexorable hold he couldn't quite fathom. He didn't want it to be so and he was loathe to call either situation love. Love held no answers for Sawyer; no peace and no beauty in the end. All it seemed to cause was pain and he didn't want to live that way any more.
The feelings coursing through Sawyer every time he saw or touched Warrick, though... what was it about this man that seemed to draw him in? Sawyer didn't know, but in his own unique way, he was as difficult to resist as either of the others, and unlike most of the whores Sawyer used to forget them, somehow it wasn't just about sex.
At the first brush of lips to lips, Warrick froze. Not since René, had anyone kissed him; had he allowed any kisses. Sex, now, was only an act to be endured; a means to an end. Any physical reaction on his part was only something any man would feel from direct stimulation. The passion he once exhibited freely with his lover was suppressed; dead, he now thought, like his beloved René.
He responded slowly, lips softening and then firming under Sawyer's. Long lashes fluttered down over startled green eyes when his head was cupped gently, a puff of surprise slipping out. The kiss had to have only lasted a moment, but time seemed to stand still as each part of Warrick's body and mind reacted. His lips tingled and small shivers coursed under his skin. Amazement, wonder, and other emotions he thought long dead flitted through him.
Finally letting Warrick go, Sawyer looked away over the garden, a blank expression on his face, trying to fight the whole confused mess inside his mind.
"Sorry," he murmured.
Warrick's ears were ringing when Sawyer pulled away. "I... don't... I haven't... kissed... Why?" Curiosity won out over his stuttered protestations and Warrick put out a hand to turn this gentle man--who confused the hell out of him--back face to face.
Sawyer couldn't look into Warrick's green eyes for too long, and a slight flush rose to his face as he tried to work out what response to give to the puzzled question. Dropping his own eyes, Sawyer murmured, "Because I couldn't stop myself."
Fighting the blush, he lifted his head again, trying not to show the emotion spiralling inside him. Part of what the man said registered properly suddenly and the implication seemed unlikely, given Warrick's nature.
"You haven't kissed another man before?" he asked, brows creasing in question, "Never?"
Warrick snorted. "No, I have, but," a grin transformed his face, "Re- erm, my lover only." The slight flush on Sawyer's cheeks and the dimples that always seem to be lurking, ready to pounce and catch others unaware, snared Warrick's attention. Mesmerized, the mulatto watched the indentations flash first on one side and then the other. "You asked me before... about kissing, yes? It's something you do often?"
Sawyer wasn't sure how to answer at first, his eyes following Warrick's as they seemed to study his cheeks. The grin that had lit up the other man's face was truly beautiful and Sawyer hadn't been able to resist echoing it. He knew some people found his dimples interesting, but he wasn't sure their supposed charm was worth much.
"I suppose so," he agreed in the end, "Although more as part of..." lovemaking he'd been going to say, but it hardly seemed an appropriate way to describe his interactions with whores, "...the sex act, when it's good and you like the man enough. Most of the..." whores "...boys here are attractive enough so it's easy and fun, although some of them don't really go in for it much."
His eyes darkened a little, thinking of Naveen. He wondered how Naveen felt about Sawyer kissing the other whores, and especially how he'd feel knowing Sawyer had kissed Warrick outside of sex like this. Outside of what had happened with Naveen for the first proper time just last week, the only other man Josh had kissed in such a way recently was... He shut down the thoughts immediately, smiling again and reaching fingers to touch Warrick's lips softly.
Nodding in agreement, Warrick somehow understood what Sawyer wasn't saying also. Obviously this man had a real lover--or lovers--at one time or another, someone who shared more than sex with this enigmatic man. Someone like his René... he forcibly turned away from comparing his love to the man at his side.
Sawyer tried to make light of what he'd done since it very definitely wasn't during sex and he didn't want Warrick to think he expected that now; or worse still that it implied Warrick was more than just a potential sexual partner because it was so obviously tender, like lovers might share.
"Besides, your lips are irresistible, like water to a thirsty man," he smirked, "Taste as good as they look, too."
When Sawyer complemented him, Warrick chuckled, the tension from the too tender emotions easing, "And you have a gilded tongue like a con m...Sawyer" he laughed outright, small dimples of his own flashing as he tipped his head back. "Mr. Twain's work; you've adopted the name of his southern grifter. So, do I call you Tom?" the green of Warrick's eyes twinkled with his joking when he met the other's gaze.
Sawyer laughed too; Warrick's chuckle as infectious as his smile.
"No, just Sawyer," he huffed, shaking his head lightly and looking down while trying not to remember a time when he was someone else, a younger man called Josh who fell in love with another young man, and especially trying not to remember the last time he had made love to that same man.
"They call me that for the tales, it's true, but I'm not so much of a con man as people would have you believe," he smiled back into the jade eyes, "Mostly I come here for the card game. What? Even you don't believe me?" he laughed, seeing the look on Warrick's face.
"What?" Warrick replied in turn, "Did the eye-roll or the incredulous snort give me away?" His grin spread, and he relaxed back against the bench. This easy camaraderie was much better than the confusing--no, the complicating--kiss. He was just a whore, now in an establishment so far beyond what he ever could have conceived only a month ago, but still, just a whore.
Met under different circumstances, the man at his side could easily be a friend or more... and once again, Warrick shied away from thoughts along that vein. He was just a whore, and Sawyer a client at Freeman's. A cloud scudded across the sun, making him shiver and reminding him of the tight binding around his midsection. Involuntarily Warrick's hand plucked at the strip of white fabric against the dusky skin of his breastbone.
Sawyer narrowed his eyes as Warrick touched the bandage around his chest once more, and suggested, "Are you sure I can't help you back inside? Where do they have you staying now?"
He doubted Marton would still have Warrick in Sean's suite if he was able to move around. No doubt he'd be up in one of the attic rooms, probably sharing with one of the other whores, even if he was still unable to work yet. Sawyer didn't really go up there; had no idea of the layout or even who shared with whom. It was none of his concern and usually it wasn't even something that occurred to him, but today he found himself wondering who they'd put Warrick in with and how Marton arranged such things. There couldn't be that many rooms up there, and Sawyer looked up vaguely as if he could spot Warrick's room by gazing at the windows, although from this angle one looked very much like another and it was doubtful he'd even see someone standing right at a sill, unless they were leaning out the window.
Naveen's dark eyes flitted across his mind and Sawyer frowned, a tug of guilt assaulting him for some reason he didn't want to think about as he looked back down at Warrick. Almost without thought, Sawyer put a hand to the bandage on Warrick's chest, fingertips stroking the warm bandage as he tried to shake off thoughts of Naveen being displeased with his attention to Warrick.
Sawyer had almost forgotten about the man he was with as he realised that touching other men had for so long been about getting a reaction from Naveen. Of course Matt--Jack--was different, and now, it seemed Warrick was too. Uneasily, Sawyer took a breath and coming to with a jerk, he smiled into Warrick's eyes as he withdrew his hand quickly.
"Sorry, just... just... does that need loosening?" he asked awkwardly, hoping his embarrassment wasn't showing too obviously.
Warrick's breath had caught when Sawyer's palm burned into his chest. For long moments all thought emptied from his mind as blood pounded in his ears. Just an innocent touch, but this wasn't the dispassionate touch of the Doctor, or the women, or even the few times Mr. Marton had briefly touched him these last few days. His eyes flew to the long shapely fingers caressing just a hair's breath below his own flesh.
Want and need of things Warrick had no right to battled for acknowledgement, demanded that he open places in his heart long locked shut. As if sensing the internal war, Sawyer's hand jerked away. Looking up, again, the blond's seafoam green eyes snared Warrick, held him within their thrall. "Yes," he answered to whatever Sawyer wanted, at that moment willing to give him anything he wished.
Sawyer blinked, studying Warrick's luminous jade eyes. The man seemed as far away as Sawyer had been for a moment as he touched Warrick.
"I should get you inside then," he said distractedly as he was caught in the depths of emotion swirling in the other man's eyes once again.
Giving in to the draw, Sawyer leaned forward, his hand finding Warrick's smooth jawline and running fingers down it to encircle his neck and pull him in closer with a gentle touch, making their lips meet for a second time.
A sigh escaped Warrick's lips when Sawyer pulled him close. The soft brush of lips wasn't enough and he pressed forward. Noses bumped until he tilted his head, sealing their mouths together. Still, it wasn't enough. Lost in the moment Warrick brought a hand up to thread in Sawyer's silky locks. His tongue swept out, licking along the top bow of wide lips in a silent plea for entrance.
That was all it took really. The touch of tongue against Sawyer's mouth had him opening his lips eagerly, welcoming Warrick's tongue inside. Closing his eyes and forgetting everything around him, including the fact that they might well be seen from any of the windows of the house not to mention the neighbouring buildings, Sawyer wrapped his other arm around Warrick's back and waist carefully despite the way his thoughts were going.
The hand in his hair reminded him of Matt, but Warrick tasted more like Naveen did in the brief taste he'd actually been allowed. Both things drove him on and Sawyer twined his tongue wetly with Warrick's as he massaged the other man's neck with strong fingertips.
Echoing the massage, Warrick groaned softly. Sawyer's teasing tongue urging his on, he plundered the moist cavern of the other man's mouth. It had been so long since he'd been allowed to take the lead in anything of a sexual nature. Like a butterfly unfurling its wings, hidden feelings and sensations stretched and grew within the whore.
Warrick held Sawyer's head steady, wrapping his other hand over an angular shoulder, and pressed the conman into the bench back. Tobacco and a hint of some spice and something that must be Sawyer alone burst on his taste buds, heightening the desire pooling in his groin.
Sawyer's pulse pounded through him as Warrick practically took over the kiss, spikes of lust shooting straight to his cock and making it harden painfully inside his breeches. Sawyer finally had to pull back a little, both of them gasping but reluctant to part for long.
"I swear to God..." Sawyer rasped, going back for more before he could tell the man what it was he was cursing to the Almighty for. Sawyer's hand slid from where it was gripping Warrick's neck and slowly traversed down over the open neck of the man's shirt, dipping inside and seeking a dusky nipple to play with.
Need this, need this, need this ran through Sawyer's mind over and over, stopping him from considering anything more right now. He hadn't been to visit Naveen since the disturbing session whereby he had admitted how he'd felt about Matt--without saying who the object of his affection was, thank God--and it had been a few days since Matt's--no Jack's--visit to Sawyer's rooms; that encounter no less disturbing and confusing in the end, and Sawyer hadn't found time nor energy to seek out a simple fuck in between the subsequent drinking and gambling.
Sawyer certainly wasn't going to think on this being anything more than a simple need to climax, anyway.
The tweaking of his taut nubbin did it for Warrick. Unfortunately not in the way either man intended. A zing of discomfort shot straight to the unhealed section of his ribs. Tearing his mouth from Sawyer's, a deep groan escaped his lips. Eyes closed and head thrown back, the cords of his neck stood out in relief. To anyone watching, he would appear to be in the throws of passion, and obviously Sawyer surmised the same. The slim fingers continued to pluck and tease, and the blond's mouth nibbled a trail down Warrick's neck.
"Non... stop... can't breathe..." Warrick entreated barely audibly.
"Oh Jesus!" Sawyer gasped, lifting his head in panic at Warrick's words.
He pulled the shirt open, searching desperately for the end of the bandage, thinking only to loosen it so that Warrick could take a decent breath. Christ! He hadn't intended to hurt the man, just... Oh, God! Sawyer looked around them, a flush rising to his face. They were in the open for God's sake, in broad daylight. Much as it didn't bother Sawyer that he was a lover of men, these were still not times to be advertising the fact so publicly! Where on earth was his mind? Centred firmly in his loins, evidently.
"I'm sorry; so sorry," he murmured, finally locating the end of the binding and beginning to work it loose as he looked worriedly back at Warrick's face, "Is it okay if I do this? I mean... you're not going to start bleeding or anything? You'll breathe more easily without it, won't you?"
"Ribs, no blood," Warrick gasped. If it had been possible for it not to look like a grimace, he would have smiled at Sawyer's manic apologies. Expressions flitted across the gambler's face faster than could be classified. Blond hair tickled his flesh each time Sawyer leant close, long arms reaching around unwinding the long strips of cotton. With just the first few turns Warrick could breathe easier. He took a couple experimental breaths, eyelids fluttering when his senses filled with Sawyer's clean scent.
What was it about this man that made him forget himself? His side was throbbing (though he could breathe a little easier), and Dieu! they were out of doors where any passers-by could have observed the kisses they'd shared. As he'd already told himself, Sawyer was a client of the house, not someone Warrick should be kissing like a close lover. Even considering all that, the brush of Sawyer's hair and arms again stirred things Warrick had long thought dead.
At first, Sawyer was just desperate to have Warrick feel better and able to breathe, then as the other man's face gradually began to look more relieved, Sawyer became aware once again of how irresistible Warrick was--his fresh smell and his smooth skin--so intoxicating this close. Sawyer held himself in check as he finished unbinding the bandage, thoughts of Naveen suddenly filling his head.
What would the Dom think if he knew how close Sawyer was coming to... to what? What on earth was he even thinking? Warrick was a whore for Christ's sake! Not that Naveen was anything more... and Jesus, there was Jack too--not a whore, but... Sawyer shook his head, the confusion he felt spiralling through him and almost making him dizzy.
Kissing Warrick was just making things worse, wasn't it? No matter what feelings he thought he had for him, surely it was only in direct response to his uncertain feelings for each of the other men. None of it made the least bit of sense. He couldn't feel anything, not properly; not for any of them. He wouldn't allow it. Sex was one thing, but emotion? No, he couldn't do this, not right now.
Standing up, he spoke to Warrick more gruffly than the man deserved, "C'mon, let's get you inside," and held out a hand to help Warrick up.
Warrick turned his left hand around to allow Sawyer to assist him upright. He kept his right arm pinned to his injured side. Internally he also berated himself for allowing; for not stopping; for instigating, he emphasized to himself, some of what just happened.
Lost in their own thoughts, both men were silent as they made their way around back to the kitchen entrance. In an attempt to not bury his nose in Sawyer's clean smelling hair, Warrick raised his head. A movement caught his eye and he squinted into the shrubbery on the bordering property. He could see nothing but the greenery fading into fall colors and the brown outbuilding behind. Must have been his over-active imagination, Warrick thought as the pair rounded the corner.
Several minutes passed before the bushes gently rustled again, having ensured that the garden was free from any hangers on. Hugh adjusted his position against the tree trunk and smiled to himself, crossing his legs comfortably and putting his hands behind his head.
This was just too perfect. The smile widened considerably, Jackman popped a cigarette in his mouth and let it hang there as he pondered the best way to use the little indiscretion that he had just seen. A cute indiscretion, but he wasn't there to comment on that, after all. Oh yes, Sawyer was definitely a man he needed to speak to. And what was a bit of blackmail between friends anyway?
Hugh chuckled and stretched in slow, lazy pleasure. Finally he might be able to get his teeth into this hunt, get the damned job done and be back onto more pleasurable things without the fear of someone breathing down his spine constantly. Not that there wasn't the possibility for pleasurable things in the hunt... Jackman's lopsided grin grew once more. All work and no play made anyone a dull boy, and he couldn't do that. It was just plain rude.
He grinned again and settled back to watch once more. This was proving a very profitable day indeed.
Since the ill-fated scene with Joshua--the one where he had discovered what it meant to Sawyer to love--Naveen had barely the will to go through the day. All he could think of was his client and the doctor. What their domestic life would be like. It began to infect his dreams, to the point where they became a nightly occurrence. It haunted him, he was sure, simply because this was a facet he had never seen of a man he thought he knew so well.
And it didn't help that he now shared his room with another. Warrick, his one rival for Joshua's attentions. Naveen was used to being worshipped and adored. To have another take that from him was not acceptable. He refused to call any of this jealousy; that feeling was for those whose emotions ran deeper than Naveen's did. It was merely anger at having a prized possession taken.
Then to add insult to injury, the tall mulatto's fingers wandered at night. He always brought the East Indian to aching hardness, only to drift into the deepest of sleeps. Naveen had taken his cock in hand more times than he could count in the past week. He was sure that he had not been as hormonal since he was a young man.
In an attempt to recapture who he was mere weeks ago, Naveen turned to Hatha Yoga as a form of meditation. If only he could reconnect with his sense of being, and channel his stray energy, then the rest would fall into place. His room was rather cramped, but in the days since he had last seen Sawyer, he felt no urge to practice his Ansanas where he could be seen.
Today, however, the sunlight beckoned him. Naveen felt the need to reconnect with the Earth, and do the hard labor that was required to make his patch of the garden flourish. It was nearing autumn, and his prized saffron was beginning to bloom. The spice he gathered from them around this time of year was so rare, he let no one--not even Marg--near them.
Naveen moved to the window to check how many bright purple blooms he could see. Pulling aside one curtain, he cast his eyes down on the beautiful back garden of Freeman's, and his heart promptly stopped. Joshua. Sitting next to Warrick. Tanned fingers were trailing over plump lips, almost reverent. Naveen's eyes closed, and he took several breaths in hopes of calming himself.
His eyes snapped open when Warrick's joyful laughter reached his ears, his Josh's familiar tones following soon after. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to watch once more. He watched as they touched, gazing soulfully into each others eyes before coming together to kiss once more. Something vile and unfamiliar twisted inside Naveen's chest. It was not so long before that he and Joshua had shared such a kiss. A kiss that had been unlike any other Naveen had ever experienced. A kiss that had ended in Joshua's rejection of Naveen. His hand clenched the fabric in his hand tightly.
Naveen couldn't stop the noise that escaped his lips as his roommate lowered his client back against the stone bench. It was low and animalistic, seemingly coming from the area of his tailbone. It increased in volume as Josh reached for Warrick's nipple. Naveen hoped, for their sake, they were not about to fuck where he could see. A tearing noise came from near the Dom's ear, and the fabric in his hand gave slightly.
When Warrick tossed his head, and Sawyer followed by ripping open the Mulatto's shirt, the drapes and the rod came crashing down. This only fueled Naveen's rage, and next in his path was a small end table. Grabbing his pitcher of water, he threw it as hard as possible. It crashed against the door with a satisfying smash; porcelain and water flying in every direction. The still-rational part of his mind knew that he would have to clean this up before Warrick returned from fucking his Joshua, but for now, it felt fucking fantastic.
Word count: ~ 5975
On to Chapter 25
Back to Chapter 23
You want to stay with me in the morning
You only hold me when I sleep,
I was meant to tread the water
Now I've gotten in too deep,
For every piece of me that wants you
Another piece backs away.
'Cause you give me something
That makes me scared, alright,
This could be nothing
But I'm willing to give it a try,
Please give me something
'Cause someday I might know my heart.
'You Give Me Something' James Morrison
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s993u4qAyiw
Slowly making his way up the hill towards Freeman's, Sawyer stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He'd had a hard night the evening before, gambling away far more than he'd won for a change, and drinking even more. Things had definitely taken a turn for the worse lately, and Sawyer hadn't been near Freeman's in the last few days.
This morning, however, when he'd woken up in his room sticky-tongued and wooden-headed, he'd cursed the booze and decided a walk to visit Warrick-whom he hadn't seen since the day after he'd let Naveen bind him in ropes-would be the best way to clear his head. Sawyer couldn't think about that particular scene in any other way right now. It had been too disturbing, and was part of why he'd decided to keep away from Freeman's for the meantime. He didn't want to think on the other part of the why either.
The idea of a quick visit with Warrick didn't seem such a big deal though. He hadn't even been doing that for these few days, far too worried he'd accidentally bump into Jack, who had been there a couple of times when Sawyer visited after Warrick had first arrived. This morning, however, he hoped the doctor wouldn't be in attendance. If he was, Sawyer intended to simply slip away again. It was too early to expect to run into Naveen in the hallways with any luck, anyway.
Coming up to the gate of the place and starting to feel a little warm in the pleasant fall day, Sawyer paused to loosen his collar somewhat and was surprised to see the man he was intending to visit out in the sunny garden. It was the first time he'd seen Warrick up and about and the mulatto was looking good. Much better than just a few days ago when he couldn't sit upright for long and was still being attended fairly regularly by his carers. He was apparently alone now though, and Sawyer smiled gladly. He wouldn't mind talking to him by himself and properly now Warrick was back on his feet. They'd hardly had much chance before, and Sawyer needed to be sure his latest find was happy enough to have been saved and brought somewhere like Freeman's.
"Warrick?" he called discretely, not wanting to scare the man, as he entered the gate and headed towards the garden.
It had been the camellias that had done it. Tired of inaction as he healed, Warrick had paced the public rooms. The servants had been bustling around restocking and cleaning in preparation for the evening to come. He had just sat at the piano and tentatively struck a couple notes when he was gently nudged away so the gleaming wood could be burnished until it glowed. He'd next wandered to the windows where the sun poured through the stained glass panels above creating a kaleidoscope on the carpet. The sun's warmth drew him outdoors, and the surprise of the well-tended garden brought a smile to his face. Long, graceful fingers explored the varied textured leaves, and brought fragrant blooms up to his nose.
Then the camellias, blush pink, gentle scented, and memories of René assaulted him. Long walks along the rocky coastline, smoky evenings in the cabaret, quiet voices whispering against sated flesh in a tangle of damp bed sheets, all of these moments and more nearly brought Warrick to his knees.
On the light breeze, ghost-like, his name came to him in a tone reminiscent of his dead lover's soft questioning. A shiver running through him, Warrick's knees did wobble. When he spun around, René's beloved form wavered before him, until sea-foam green eyes and soft tendrils of blond hair overlaid his vision.
"H-hello..." wavering at first, the smile that lit his face dimpled one cheek and lightened exotic green eyes.
Sawyer couldn't help smiling in reply to the way the dusky-skinned man's face lit up at seeing him. A tightening in Josh's chest was ignored as he cleared his throat and approached the green-eyed beauty. With everything happening lately, there was no reason to include Warrick in the confusion swirling through Sawyer's mind. He was just glad the man he'd managed to extricate from the filthy bathhouse with Marton and his bouncers' help was looking so much better than when he'd first been brought here.
"You're looking well," Sawyer told Warrick as he stopped a mere step away from the beautiful man.
Not wanting Warrick to think he was trying to push for anything like what had happened at the Coast before Warrick was ready and able to start work, Sawyer hooked his thumbs in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet, studying the plants Warrick had obviously been admiring before Sawyer called to him.
"You like camellias? Miss Marg and her chinks have done a fine job this year. The garden here is certainly becoming something for her to be proud of."
While Sawyer didn't have a great deal of love for women in his bed, Josh's mama had taught him well and his background of being at home equally with fluttering debutantes and hard-working newly-freed slaves had made him every inch the southern gentleman in any woman's company. However, there were some he distinctly admired more than others. Marg easily fell into this category, as did the widely-girthed cook they employed at Freeman's.
Warrick smelled better than the flowers, Sawyer decided as he took a deep sniff to better appreciate everything on offer nearby. He snuck a sideways glance to admire the much healthier-looking man beside him again. He wouldn't mention how often he'd been to visit Warrick since he arrived, then perhaps it wouldn't matter that Sawyer hadn't been seen here for a few days. He still wondered if Warrick had missed him, but there was no easy way to ask.
"They must be looking after you, anyway," he decided, giving Warrick a more open examination, the pleased smile still dimpling his cheeks.
Warrick couldn't say the same about Sawyer. Despite the dazzling grin, dissipation showed in the pasty complexion and dark smudges beneath the amazing green eyes. "Yet you look like hell," he teased, then his own smile turned bashful. "It's thanks to you, and them, I... thank you," was all he could say without choking up and embarrassing himself further.
It was more than that he most likely owed his life to this man. There was something else that drew Warrick to Sawyer. The man embraced life on his terms, the rest of the world be damned. That attitude both thrilled Warrick and scared him, because he could fall for this man--this client--and that was something he could not allow to happen.
Only remembering that Sawyer had visited at odd times when he was still floating in and out of consciousness, Warrick didn't realize Sawyer had been there daily. "Are you here to see someone in particular, to... er...‘unwind' upstairs?" he stuttered, shuffling his feet until a spasm made him flinch.
Sawyer's smile faltered at the words about his own looks, although he knew Warrick was partly teasing. It was probably much truer than he'd realised. Sawyer wasn't someone who immediately checked his appearance in a mirror each day and it hadn't even occurred to him that he looked worse for wear, even though it should have done after his hard living the last few days. Briefly, he wondered if Jack looked as bad, but he pushed the thought away before it became anything too powerful.
"You're welcome," he offered instead, leaning forward to sniff more fully at one of the flowers, and at the same time allowing him to turn his face away from Warrick.
At Warrick's question, Sawyer drew a breath to answer, wanting to make things clear, but before he could do so, the mulatto appeared to waver on his feet and Sawyer immediately put out a hand to steady him, his words forgotten. One hand against Warrick's hip, it was almost automatic to place his other hand at Warrick's other side as he furrowed his brow in concern.
"We should get you sitting down," he said from much closer now, his worry for Warrick almost secondary to the wave of desire that passed through him at their proximity. Unable to stop himself, Sawyer licked his lips as he studied the other man's face. "There's a bench seat over there; let's get you on it."
Warrick tried to protest, but the wrap around his midsection was too tight, triggering another spasm. He breathed shallowly as Sawyer helped him sit. "I'll be fine soon, just can't catch my breath," he panted. Every breath that he did draw was filled with the scent of the man next to him. Mon Dieu, he felt like a school boy again, body tightening in desire just being in proximity of such a sensual man. Sawyer was here as a client, not to be catering to an invalid.
"Thank you," Warrick repeated, "I will be fine, and don't mean to keep you from your business." He squirmed in embarrassment and plucked at the tight binding visible in the opening of the loose shirt he wore.
Sitting next to Warrick, Sawyer kept one arm around the man's shoulder loosely, unsure what to do with his other hand. Sawyer's eyes dropped to the binding around Warrick's chest as the mulatto fiddled with it.
"I... I came to see you, actually," Sawyer admitted, a slight flush rising as he reached his free hand towards Warrick's, stopping himself at the last moment from touching more than just the other man's hand. He couldn't meet Warrrick's eyes as he drew away from touching him altogether, although he stayed on the bench, still close enough he could reach if needed.
"You're obviously not fully healed. Is that too tight? Should I help you back inside to have it seen to?" he asked, finally lifting his eyes to the amazing green ones that seemed out of place on a dark man, but that gave him an added attraction that doubtless turned more heads than just Sawyer's.
He swallowed hard at the sight of them, sure he should move away, but all Sawyer could think now was how much he wanted to kiss this man. His eyes dropped to the luscious full lips and unconsciously he licked his own. Remembering how uneasy Warrick had been at the bathhouse when he'd asked to do just that, Sawyer held himself back. He shouldn't be thinking like this at all. Kissing that way was not for men and their whores.
"You... you did?" Warrick's cheeks also heated and his eyes lowered to Sawyer's hand that hovered and then moved away.
When Sawyer mentioned taking him indoors, Warrick called out a harsh "No!" eyes flying up to Sawyer's bowed head. "I'm sorry, I mean only Cook and the others, they mean well, but they don't have the same touch as..." Warrick's voice trailed off before mentioning that the doctor hadn't been around in days. The softness in Sawyer's eyes snared him, and his breath caught in his throat.
Sawyer's eyes rose at the harshly blurted word and he frowned slightly at the explanation following. Who? Whose touch was he referring to? Sawyer forgot the question before he'd even asked it at the look in Warrick's eyes, and unable to stop himself this time, he leaned in, kissing the softness of lips he'd wanted to caress this way since he first saw them.
It was completely different from kissing both Naveen and Jack, not that he'd had much opportunity to do this with either of those men recently. Naveen, because he just didn't allow many kisses to Sawyer; not usually this kind of chaste, exploratory kiss, anyway. And Jack, because they simply didn't kiss this way any more. Sawyer carefully shut out the memory of two very different nights much more recently that had included such delicate caresses from each of them, and gave in to the warmth of Warrick's lips.
Confusion swirled around Sawyer's mind even more now he was kissing another man. Closing his eyes, he allowed a hand to wander into Warrick's tight curls, holding the mulatto close with a gentle touch.
Images of Matt, naked and wanting, merged with ones of Naveen, his eyes harsh but full of a different kind of need. Both of these men kept Sawyer close somehow in a kind of inexorable hold he couldn't quite fathom. He didn't want it to be so and he was loathe to call either situation love. Love held no answers for Sawyer; no peace and no beauty in the end. All it seemed to cause was pain and he didn't want to live that way any more.
The feelings coursing through Sawyer every time he saw or touched Warrick, though... what was it about this man that seemed to draw him in? Sawyer didn't know, but in his own unique way, he was as difficult to resist as either of the others, and unlike most of the whores Sawyer used to forget them, somehow it wasn't just about sex.
At the first brush of lips to lips, Warrick froze. Not since René, had anyone kissed him; had he allowed any kisses. Sex, now, was only an act to be endured; a means to an end. Any physical reaction on his part was only something any man would feel from direct stimulation. The passion he once exhibited freely with his lover was suppressed; dead, he now thought, like his beloved René.
He responded slowly, lips softening and then firming under Sawyer's. Long lashes fluttered down over startled green eyes when his head was cupped gently, a puff of surprise slipping out. The kiss had to have only lasted a moment, but time seemed to stand still as each part of Warrick's body and mind reacted. His lips tingled and small shivers coursed under his skin. Amazement, wonder, and other emotions he thought long dead flitted through him.
Finally letting Warrick go, Sawyer looked away over the garden, a blank expression on his face, trying to fight the whole confused mess inside his mind.
"Sorry," he murmured.
Warrick's ears were ringing when Sawyer pulled away. "I... don't... I haven't... kissed... Why?" Curiosity won out over his stuttered protestations and Warrick put out a hand to turn this gentle man--who confused the hell out of him--back face to face.
Sawyer couldn't look into Warrick's green eyes for too long, and a slight flush rose to his face as he tried to work out what response to give to the puzzled question. Dropping his own eyes, Sawyer murmured, "Because I couldn't stop myself."
Fighting the blush, he lifted his head again, trying not to show the emotion spiralling inside him. Part of what the man said registered properly suddenly and the implication seemed unlikely, given Warrick's nature.
"You haven't kissed another man before?" he asked, brows creasing in question, "Never?"
Warrick snorted. "No, I have, but," a grin transformed his face, "Re- erm, my lover only." The slight flush on Sawyer's cheeks and the dimples that always seem to be lurking, ready to pounce and catch others unaware, snared Warrick's attention. Mesmerized, the mulatto watched the indentations flash first on one side and then the other. "You asked me before... about kissing, yes? It's something you do often?"
Sawyer wasn't sure how to answer at first, his eyes following Warrick's as they seemed to study his cheeks. The grin that had lit up the other man's face was truly beautiful and Sawyer hadn't been able to resist echoing it. He knew some people found his dimples interesting, but he wasn't sure their supposed charm was worth much.
"I suppose so," he agreed in the end, "Although more as part of..." lovemaking he'd been going to say, but it hardly seemed an appropriate way to describe his interactions with whores, "...the sex act, when it's good and you like the man enough. Most of the..." whores "...boys here are attractive enough so it's easy and fun, although some of them don't really go in for it much."
His eyes darkened a little, thinking of Naveen. He wondered how Naveen felt about Sawyer kissing the other whores, and especially how he'd feel knowing Sawyer had kissed Warrick outside of sex like this. Outside of what had happened with Naveen for the first proper time just last week, the only other man Josh had kissed in such a way recently was... He shut down the thoughts immediately, smiling again and reaching fingers to touch Warrick's lips softly.
Nodding in agreement, Warrick somehow understood what Sawyer wasn't saying also. Obviously this man had a real lover--or lovers--at one time or another, someone who shared more than sex with this enigmatic man. Someone like his René... he forcibly turned away from comparing his love to the man at his side.
Sawyer tried to make light of what he'd done since it very definitely wasn't during sex and he didn't want Warrick to think he expected that now; or worse still that it implied Warrick was more than just a potential sexual partner because it was so obviously tender, like lovers might share.
"Besides, your lips are irresistible, like water to a thirsty man," he smirked, "Taste as good as they look, too."
When Sawyer complemented him, Warrick chuckled, the tension from the too tender emotions easing, "And you have a gilded tongue like a con m...Sawyer" he laughed outright, small dimples of his own flashing as he tipped his head back. "Mr. Twain's work; you've adopted the name of his southern grifter. So, do I call you Tom?" the green of Warrick's eyes twinkled with his joking when he met the other's gaze.
Sawyer laughed too; Warrick's chuckle as infectious as his smile.
"No, just Sawyer," he huffed, shaking his head lightly and looking down while trying not to remember a time when he was someone else, a younger man called Josh who fell in love with another young man, and especially trying not to remember the last time he had made love to that same man.
"They call me that for the tales, it's true, but I'm not so much of a con man as people would have you believe," he smiled back into the jade eyes, "Mostly I come here for the card game. What? Even you don't believe me?" he laughed, seeing the look on Warrick's face.
"What?" Warrick replied in turn, "Did the eye-roll or the incredulous snort give me away?" His grin spread, and he relaxed back against the bench. This easy camaraderie was much better than the confusing--no, the complicating--kiss. He was just a whore, now in an establishment so far beyond what he ever could have conceived only a month ago, but still, just a whore.
Met under different circumstances, the man at his side could easily be a friend or more... and once again, Warrick shied away from thoughts along that vein. He was just a whore, and Sawyer a client at Freeman's. A cloud scudded across the sun, making him shiver and reminding him of the tight binding around his midsection. Involuntarily Warrick's hand plucked at the strip of white fabric against the dusky skin of his breastbone.
Sawyer narrowed his eyes as Warrick touched the bandage around his chest once more, and suggested, "Are you sure I can't help you back inside? Where do they have you staying now?"
He doubted Marton would still have Warrick in Sean's suite if he was able to move around. No doubt he'd be up in one of the attic rooms, probably sharing with one of the other whores, even if he was still unable to work yet. Sawyer didn't really go up there; had no idea of the layout or even who shared with whom. It was none of his concern and usually it wasn't even something that occurred to him, but today he found himself wondering who they'd put Warrick in with and how Marton arranged such things. There couldn't be that many rooms up there, and Sawyer looked up vaguely as if he could spot Warrick's room by gazing at the windows, although from this angle one looked very much like another and it was doubtful he'd even see someone standing right at a sill, unless they were leaning out the window.
Naveen's dark eyes flitted across his mind and Sawyer frowned, a tug of guilt assaulting him for some reason he didn't want to think about as he looked back down at Warrick. Almost without thought, Sawyer put a hand to the bandage on Warrick's chest, fingertips stroking the warm bandage as he tried to shake off thoughts of Naveen being displeased with his attention to Warrick.
Sawyer had almost forgotten about the man he was with as he realised that touching other men had for so long been about getting a reaction from Naveen. Of course Matt--Jack--was different, and now, it seemed Warrick was too. Uneasily, Sawyer took a breath and coming to with a jerk, he smiled into Warrick's eyes as he withdrew his hand quickly.
"Sorry, just... just... does that need loosening?" he asked awkwardly, hoping his embarrassment wasn't showing too obviously.
Warrick's breath had caught when Sawyer's palm burned into his chest. For long moments all thought emptied from his mind as blood pounded in his ears. Just an innocent touch, but this wasn't the dispassionate touch of the Doctor, or the women, or even the few times Mr. Marton had briefly touched him these last few days. His eyes flew to the long shapely fingers caressing just a hair's breath below his own flesh.
Want and need of things Warrick had no right to battled for acknowledgement, demanded that he open places in his heart long locked shut. As if sensing the internal war, Sawyer's hand jerked away. Looking up, again, the blond's seafoam green eyes snared Warrick, held him within their thrall. "Yes," he answered to whatever Sawyer wanted, at that moment willing to give him anything he wished.
Sawyer blinked, studying Warrick's luminous jade eyes. The man seemed as far away as Sawyer had been for a moment as he touched Warrick.
"I should get you inside then," he said distractedly as he was caught in the depths of emotion swirling in the other man's eyes once again.
Giving in to the draw, Sawyer leaned forward, his hand finding Warrick's smooth jawline and running fingers down it to encircle his neck and pull him in closer with a gentle touch, making their lips meet for a second time.
A sigh escaped Warrick's lips when Sawyer pulled him close. The soft brush of lips wasn't enough and he pressed forward. Noses bumped until he tilted his head, sealing their mouths together. Still, it wasn't enough. Lost in the moment Warrick brought a hand up to thread in Sawyer's silky locks. His tongue swept out, licking along the top bow of wide lips in a silent plea for entrance.
That was all it took really. The touch of tongue against Sawyer's mouth had him opening his lips eagerly, welcoming Warrick's tongue inside. Closing his eyes and forgetting everything around him, including the fact that they might well be seen from any of the windows of the house not to mention the neighbouring buildings, Sawyer wrapped his other arm around Warrick's back and waist carefully despite the way his thoughts were going.
The hand in his hair reminded him of Matt, but Warrick tasted more like Naveen did in the brief taste he'd actually been allowed. Both things drove him on and Sawyer twined his tongue wetly with Warrick's as he massaged the other man's neck with strong fingertips.
Echoing the massage, Warrick groaned softly. Sawyer's teasing tongue urging his on, he plundered the moist cavern of the other man's mouth. It had been so long since he'd been allowed to take the lead in anything of a sexual nature. Like a butterfly unfurling its wings, hidden feelings and sensations stretched and grew within the whore.
Warrick held Sawyer's head steady, wrapping his other hand over an angular shoulder, and pressed the conman into the bench back. Tobacco and a hint of some spice and something that must be Sawyer alone burst on his taste buds, heightening the desire pooling in his groin.
Sawyer's pulse pounded through him as Warrick practically took over the kiss, spikes of lust shooting straight to his cock and making it harden painfully inside his breeches. Sawyer finally had to pull back a little, both of them gasping but reluctant to part for long.
"I swear to God..." Sawyer rasped, going back for more before he could tell the man what it was he was cursing to the Almighty for. Sawyer's hand slid from where it was gripping Warrick's neck and slowly traversed down over the open neck of the man's shirt, dipping inside and seeking a dusky nipple to play with.
Need this, need this, need this ran through Sawyer's mind over and over, stopping him from considering anything more right now. He hadn't been to visit Naveen since the disturbing session whereby he had admitted how he'd felt about Matt--without saying who the object of his affection was, thank God--and it had been a few days since Matt's--no Jack's--visit to Sawyer's rooms; that encounter no less disturbing and confusing in the end, and Sawyer hadn't found time nor energy to seek out a simple fuck in between the subsequent drinking and gambling.
Sawyer certainly wasn't going to think on this being anything more than a simple need to climax, anyway.
The tweaking of his taut nubbin did it for Warrick. Unfortunately not in the way either man intended. A zing of discomfort shot straight to the unhealed section of his ribs. Tearing his mouth from Sawyer's, a deep groan escaped his lips. Eyes closed and head thrown back, the cords of his neck stood out in relief. To anyone watching, he would appear to be in the throws of passion, and obviously Sawyer surmised the same. The slim fingers continued to pluck and tease, and the blond's mouth nibbled a trail down Warrick's neck.
"Non... stop... can't breathe..." Warrick entreated barely audibly.
"Oh Jesus!" Sawyer gasped, lifting his head in panic at Warrick's words.
He pulled the shirt open, searching desperately for the end of the bandage, thinking only to loosen it so that Warrick could take a decent breath. Christ! He hadn't intended to hurt the man, just... Oh, God! Sawyer looked around them, a flush rising to his face. They were in the open for God's sake, in broad daylight. Much as it didn't bother Sawyer that he was a lover of men, these were still not times to be advertising the fact so publicly! Where on earth was his mind? Centred firmly in his loins, evidently.
"I'm sorry; so sorry," he murmured, finally locating the end of the binding and beginning to work it loose as he looked worriedly back at Warrick's face, "Is it okay if I do this? I mean... you're not going to start bleeding or anything? You'll breathe more easily without it, won't you?"
"Ribs, no blood," Warrick gasped. If it had been possible for it not to look like a grimace, he would have smiled at Sawyer's manic apologies. Expressions flitted across the gambler's face faster than could be classified. Blond hair tickled his flesh each time Sawyer leant close, long arms reaching around unwinding the long strips of cotton. With just the first few turns Warrick could breathe easier. He took a couple experimental breaths, eyelids fluttering when his senses filled with Sawyer's clean scent.
What was it about this man that made him forget himself? His side was throbbing (though he could breathe a little easier), and Dieu! they were out of doors where any passers-by could have observed the kisses they'd shared. As he'd already told himself, Sawyer was a client of the house, not someone Warrick should be kissing like a close lover. Even considering all that, the brush of Sawyer's hair and arms again stirred things Warrick had long thought dead.
At first, Sawyer was just desperate to have Warrick feel better and able to breathe, then as the other man's face gradually began to look more relieved, Sawyer became aware once again of how irresistible Warrick was--his fresh smell and his smooth skin--so intoxicating this close. Sawyer held himself in check as he finished unbinding the bandage, thoughts of Naveen suddenly filling his head.
What would the Dom think if he knew how close Sawyer was coming to... to what? What on earth was he even thinking? Warrick was a whore for Christ's sake! Not that Naveen was anything more... and Jesus, there was Jack too--not a whore, but... Sawyer shook his head, the confusion he felt spiralling through him and almost making him dizzy.
Kissing Warrick was just making things worse, wasn't it? No matter what feelings he thought he had for him, surely it was only in direct response to his uncertain feelings for each of the other men. None of it made the least bit of sense. He couldn't feel anything, not properly; not for any of them. He wouldn't allow it. Sex was one thing, but emotion? No, he couldn't do this, not right now.
Standing up, he spoke to Warrick more gruffly than the man deserved, "C'mon, let's get you inside," and held out a hand to help Warrick up.
Warrick turned his left hand around to allow Sawyer to assist him upright. He kept his right arm pinned to his injured side. Internally he also berated himself for allowing; for not stopping; for instigating, he emphasized to himself, some of what just happened.
Lost in their own thoughts, both men were silent as they made their way around back to the kitchen entrance. In an attempt to not bury his nose in Sawyer's clean smelling hair, Warrick raised his head. A movement caught his eye and he squinted into the shrubbery on the bordering property. He could see nothing but the greenery fading into fall colors and the brown outbuilding behind. Must have been his over-active imagination, Warrick thought as the pair rounded the corner.
Several minutes passed before the bushes gently rustled again, having ensured that the garden was free from any hangers on. Hugh adjusted his position against the tree trunk and smiled to himself, crossing his legs comfortably and putting his hands behind his head.
This was just too perfect. The smile widened considerably, Jackman popped a cigarette in his mouth and let it hang there as he pondered the best way to use the little indiscretion that he had just seen. A cute indiscretion, but he wasn't there to comment on that, after all. Oh yes, Sawyer was definitely a man he needed to speak to. And what was a bit of blackmail between friends anyway?
Hugh chuckled and stretched in slow, lazy pleasure. Finally he might be able to get his teeth into this hunt, get the damned job done and be back onto more pleasurable things without the fear of someone breathing down his spine constantly. Not that there wasn't the possibility for pleasurable things in the hunt... Jackman's lopsided grin grew once more. All work and no play made anyone a dull boy, and he couldn't do that. It was just plain rude.
He grinned again and settled back to watch once more. This was proving a very profitable day indeed.
Since the ill-fated scene with Joshua--the one where he had discovered what it meant to Sawyer to love--Naveen had barely the will to go through the day. All he could think of was his client and the doctor. What their domestic life would be like. It began to infect his dreams, to the point where they became a nightly occurrence. It haunted him, he was sure, simply because this was a facet he had never seen of a man he thought he knew so well.
And it didn't help that he now shared his room with another. Warrick, his one rival for Joshua's attentions. Naveen was used to being worshipped and adored. To have another take that from him was not acceptable. He refused to call any of this jealousy; that feeling was for those whose emotions ran deeper than Naveen's did. It was merely anger at having a prized possession taken.
Then to add insult to injury, the tall mulatto's fingers wandered at night. He always brought the East Indian to aching hardness, only to drift into the deepest of sleeps. Naveen had taken his cock in hand more times than he could count in the past week. He was sure that he had not been as hormonal since he was a young man.
In an attempt to recapture who he was mere weeks ago, Naveen turned to Hatha Yoga as a form of meditation. If only he could reconnect with his sense of being, and channel his stray energy, then the rest would fall into place. His room was rather cramped, but in the days since he had last seen Sawyer, he felt no urge to practice his Ansanas where he could be seen.
Today, however, the sunlight beckoned him. Naveen felt the need to reconnect with the Earth, and do the hard labor that was required to make his patch of the garden flourish. It was nearing autumn, and his prized saffron was beginning to bloom. The spice he gathered from them around this time of year was so rare, he let no one--not even Marg--near them.
Naveen moved to the window to check how many bright purple blooms he could see. Pulling aside one curtain, he cast his eyes down on the beautiful back garden of Freeman's, and his heart promptly stopped. Joshua. Sitting next to Warrick. Tanned fingers were trailing over plump lips, almost reverent. Naveen's eyes closed, and he took several breaths in hopes of calming himself.
His eyes snapped open when Warrick's joyful laughter reached his ears, his Josh's familiar tones following soon after. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to watch once more. He watched as they touched, gazing soulfully into each others eyes before coming together to kiss once more. Something vile and unfamiliar twisted inside Naveen's chest. It was not so long before that he and Joshua had shared such a kiss. A kiss that had been unlike any other Naveen had ever experienced. A kiss that had ended in Joshua's rejection of Naveen. His hand clenched the fabric in his hand tightly.
Naveen couldn't stop the noise that escaped his lips as his roommate lowered his client back against the stone bench. It was low and animalistic, seemingly coming from the area of his tailbone. It increased in volume as Josh reached for Warrick's nipple. Naveen hoped, for their sake, they were not about to fuck where he could see. A tearing noise came from near the Dom's ear, and the fabric in his hand gave slightly.
When Warrick tossed his head, and Sawyer followed by ripping open the Mulatto's shirt, the drapes and the rod came crashing down. This only fueled Naveen's rage, and next in his path was a small end table. Grabbing his pitcher of water, he threw it as hard as possible. It crashed against the door with a satisfying smash; porcelain and water flying in every direction. The still-rational part of his mind knew that he would have to clean this up before Warrick returned from fucking his Joshua, but for now, it felt fucking fantastic.
Word count: ~ 5975
On to Chapter 25