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It was all Inej’s fault, of course. When she’d snuck through some unknown window into his heart she must have forgotten to lock up behind her. It was the only explanation for how these other idiots got in.
“I think Kaz likes seeing you like this,” Jesper says, grinning down at Wylan who’s laying on his back, flushed and panting on the bed. “Lovely. So debauched. Don’t you, Kaz?”
The house is empty, save for the three of them – the servants have the night off and Marya’s at the Lakehouse. The windows are secured against the very Kerch storm battering them from outside. The door is bolted as well, and Kaz has taken his usual precaution of placing glass bottles along the bottom. It’s the most effective defense he’s ever devised – any lock can be defeated, but there’s no way around a simple set of bottles. The door can’t be opened without alerting everyone. They can’t be caught by surprise.
It’s safe enough that Kaz has actually stripped down to his shorts tonight. His jacket’s hung up by the closet, and his shirt, waistcoat, trousers, and gloves are folded neatly on the dresser beside his chair. He doesn’t usually, or at least keeps his shirt on, and the cloth of the chair feels strange against his bare skin. But it’s warm enough to be comfortable, and the room is locked tight.
Kaz still can’t touch them much skin to skin, even though he aches for it some nights. Jesper and Wylan laugh, pinning each other to the bed, showing off each other’s best angles to Kaz, seated in his chair, and sometimes he wants nothing more than to march over there and show them what they do to him. The thought of it usually sends him spiraling, but not tonight – tonight, something soft and easy has settled in the room.
Kaz’s eyes scan them hungrily, shifting in his seat against his growing arousal.
Wylan’s face has lost some of its round boyishness in the intervening five years since he’d first washed up in the Barrel. It’s leaner now, blue eyes thoughtful and calculating rather than perpetually lost, reddish gold curls falling along his sharp jawline. He really belongs now, to his house and his power, and there’s no hiding it. From every angle, Wylan Van Eck reminds Kaz of an intricate lock fitted proudly on a shining wall safe. Lovely and perfect, ready for a thief like Kaz to patiently coax open.
“Gorgeous,” Jesper continues. “So close already, and I’ve hardly done anything. What do you think, Kaz, isn’t he pretty?”
“Expensive,” Kaz breathes, eyes fixed on Wylan’s lips. It’s the only word that fits, the only one he can find to explain.
Jesper rolls his eyes. “Seriously Kaz, I…”
But Wylan’s hips give a helpless little jerk, cock twitching, and he groans, just like Kaz knew he would. Jesper’s eyebrows raise.
“Saints, you are both insufferably Kerch.” Jesper sighs fondly, as he wraps one hand loosely around Wylan’s cock. “I already had one Kerch boy, I don’t know why I let you talk me into another.” It isn’t clear if he’s talking to Kaz or Wylan.
He glances over at Kaz, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have to look so smug about this, you know.”
Kaz can’t help it, he is smug – they’re so good together. He knew they would be, even in the early days on the Ferolind when they drove everyone insane with their constant bickering.
It’s not just Wylan. Jesper has done well for himself too – once he’d finally stopped growing upwards, he’d managed to put on some muscle, now accentuated by the candlelight. His hair, no longer cropped short, has been done in intricate little braids that reach the tops of his ears. They sway as he moves. He turns to Kaz again, smiling brilliantly, and ah. Kaz can’t help it, he palms his own cock from the chair near the bed. That grin never fails – his insides twist with both heat and affection.
“Expensive, hm? Is that what you like?” Jesper’s murmuring, alternating looks between Wylan and Kaz, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. Wylan’s hips are moving already, gasping little moans escaping his mouth.
“Jes,” Wylan pants. “Jes, wait.”
“You alright? Should I…”
Wylan sits forward on the bed, hands brushing against Jesper’s chest. He slides them down Jesper’s sides, settling at his hips, craning his neck to look up into Jesper’s eyes. “Wanna suck you,” he says breathlessly.
Their positions flip, so quickly and gracefully it’s like sleight-of-hand. One second Jesper was standing, the next he’s sprawled on the bed with Wylan kissing his way down the soft hairs on his belly.
Kaz bites back a groan, feeling his cock stiffen further.
-
It was a scene very near to this, in fact, that Kaz first touched either of them.
Inej had encouraged him to explore while she was away, with Jesper and Wylan. She’d always known what he thought of them and their damnable smiles - nothing was hidden from the Wraith, after all. So when Jesper first suggested Kaz come by one evening, she’d whispered in his ear that it was a splendid idea. Kaz had been in strong agreement. But of course she’d already known that too.
Wylan had been kneeling on the bed that night, collapsed onto his back, breathing heavily through his orgasm. He’d flopped down a foot or so from Kaz, who was uncertainly perched on the corner of the mattress, still mostly dressed. Ghezen, he’d even still had his waistcoat on.
Kaz hadn’t known what came over him– perhaps something like the impulse that had once made him tell Inej he’d had a brother. But Jesper was gazing down at Wylan with a half-smile playing on his lips and Wylan looked so sweet. Laying there, beaming at Jesper, red-gold curls stuck to his face. There was a reddish mark on his shoulder – from Jesper, kissing down his neck and arms. Kaz stared as the skin shifted slightly when Wylan’s arm moved, the rosy mark beckoning.
Before he fully realized what he was doing he’d leaned over toward it, toward Wylan, and both Wylan and Jesper froze. It felt like they weren’t even breathing – Wylan’s chest stopped heaving, his arm locked in place.
Kaz felt lightheaded and dizzy – the rest of the room fading away, his eyes focused on his target. He braced an arm on the bed. He could smell… sweat, whatever soap the housekeeper used on the linens, the old familiar, gentle scent of the oil Jesper used on his hair. The little mark from Jesper’s mouth loomed larger, and Kaz paused. What was he even doing? This was ridiculous – he wasn’t going to be able to... he’d drown. He felt their eyes on him, and Kaz knew he was stuck. He couldn’t move forward, he wasn’t sure if he could bear their consolation if he moved away.
“You can,” choked Wylan then. “You can, Kaz. If you want.” Kaz knew Wylan meant permission, but something about it rang through him, vibrated down his skin. He could. The little red mark twitched. I can.
Go on, then. The ghost of her voice floated up, a shadow of a whisper. Kaz was filled with the memory of Inej’s voice and her hope, the way her eyes glowed when she talked about the souls she’d saved off the slaver ships. Her quiet smile every time he admitted to meeting Jes and Wylan at the house. Go on.
Kaz didn’t even realize he’d started moving again until his lips brushed gently against the little mark on Wylan’s shoulder. It felt like a lightning bolt, an explosion rippling down his chin to his knees. Distantly, he felt Wylan’s breath hitch.
The water didn’t rise.
He left his lips there a second longer, all three of them stock-still, waiting for some magic to break, for Kaz to panic.
It was coming, if he held that position much longer. He would panic and drown eventually. But not yet. Before it could take him, he drew back, trembling, trying to pull in enough air to keep from toppling off the bed, heartbeat pounding in his ears. He was vaguely aware of Wylan saying something, and moving away.
He sat there a moment, breathing, words flowing from some other conversation around him but he didn’t understand them. The trick to falling is getting back up. You can.
His cane bumped gently against his thigh, and Kaz looked down to see Jesper stepping back, nodding to it. Kaz gripped the cold crow’s head and nearly wept at the relief – the familiar, hard metal biting into his palm. When he finally exhaled, it was though the threat of the harbor went with it, wafting away into nothing. Because it was nothing. He was safe and holding his cane, and he had kissed Wylan’s shoulder and hadn’t drowned.
Glass clinked behind him. Turning, Kaz saw Wylan pouring what looked like bourbon into three glasses. The red mark was still a bright spot on his shoulder, the color matching the high flush on his smiling face.
“A toast!” Jesper beamed, picking up two glasses and leaning over to hand one to Kaz.
Kaz was fairly aware of his ears burning. “Where did-“ his voice sounded even rougher than normal. “This wasn’t in here earlier.”
“It was in the wardrobe,” Wylan replied with a smile, raising the glass to his lips.
“Never know when you’re going to find some reason to celebrate,” Jesper added.
Warmth spread through Kaz, all the way down to his toes.
-
Kaz looks different lying on this bed than either Jesper or Wylan. The most obvious, of course, is that they belong – comfortably draping themselves across every surface in the house, while Kaz has never quite been able to shake his thief’s caution. He still has his shorts on as well, which he needs if this is going to work at all. He’s never been comfortable naked outside his room at the Slat, and here, the scars on his chest and running down his leg only emphasize how much he doesn’t belong on a soft mattress, in nice sheets, in a home like this.
He wants to pretend he doesn’t know how this happened, either. But that’s a lie; he does. He wanted it. Wanted it so much he’d asked, and Wylan knows how to school his face but Jesper never has and they were both so emphatically delighted Kaz nearly bowed out.
The worst thing about sex, Kaz thinks, is how humiliating it is even when it goes well. Even in the best case scenario, if he wasn’t… like he was. Kaz imagines losing control, making all those sounds and sighs, the sweaty unpleasantness of it. The most he’s done with them has been to get himself off, and he likes to wait until they’re busy with each other, so they won’t watch him as closely.
Kaz has faced down the worst gang leaders and killers of the Barrel, a squad of drüskelle, the stadwatch, the Merchant Council, and Inej’s parents when he’d fucked up his Ravkan and called Inej a bitch instead of clever. Nothing’s ever made him shake except for staring down Jesper and Wylan and… asking. If they would touch him, until he came. He’d nearly passed out.
He wants it so bad he’s sick for it. It had been a triumph at first, to finish himself off in the same room as anyone else. The sensation of another person nearby when he was vulnerable was nearly too much for him. And now he’s asked for another person’s hands to be on him, and just thinking about it makes him sweat.
But he dreams about it.
Jesper touches him first, gingerly, with the back of his hand. Kaz’s hips jerk in surprise – it doesn’t feel like a hand, when he holds it like that. No clawing, bloated fingers to drag him down into icy waters. Just… just pressure, rubbing maddeningly at him through his shorts.
It stops.
Jesper is hovering above him, on the bed. Kaz is on his back and Jesper is above, and part of him quails at it – he has to get up, roll over, Jesper needs to get away, because being on your back with someone over you is the worst possible outcome. Part of him expects a boot in his side, a baton to the head.
It won’t come, another part of him insists. Kaz is on his back, but it’s on a bed, because he laid there on purpose, and it’s Jesper over him, his oldest friend and these days something even more than that. The house is locked and Kaz’s bottles are in place and Wylan has eyes on the windows and he’s safe.
“Kaz? You’re alright?” Jesper’s asking, because of course. He touched Kaz as soft as he could but Kaz jumped like he’d been burned– of course Jesper had taken that as a sign to back off.
“I’m alright. Took me by surprise, is all.”
“Good or bad?” Wylan’s eyes are focused intently, blue boring through him when he’s nearly naked on the bed. Kaz is suddenly aware he’s flushed all the way down, and Wylan can see it.
“Good,” Kaz grunts, overcome by the urge to squirm away and avoid their eyes. He can – anytime he wants, he can get up and just leave, but the room is warm and safe. He wants this, aches, asked, and he can endure even something as terrifying as their gaze to get it.
Jesper leans forward again and Kaz’s whole body tenses – clenching his jaw through the wave of anxiety of a person hovering over him – and places the back of his hand against the erection under Kaz’s shorts. Fire blazes up Kaz’s belly at the sensation, tingling all the way through him. Kaz fights to hold his whole body mercilessly still – if he moves at all, it will be to jerk away or throw Jesper off and he will not have this night end like that.
Jesper rubs his hand back and forth, agonizingly gentle against Kaz’s hard length, and a small sound escapes Kaz’s throat, high and surprised. It’s embarrassing, it’s the worst, to be on his back making a sound like that. Kaz wants to bite it back but his hips twitch again and he shivers despite the warmth in the room.
There’s a sound and pressure on the bed, and Kaz snaps his head up to see Wylan, kneeling on the mattress holding his gloves. He slowly puts them on, and Kaz is aware that Jesper is chuckling at his transfixed expression. Wylan’s hands are smaller than Kaz’s but sturdy, muscled in a way that hints at his years of painting and music. This isn’t the first time they’ve played at wearing Kaz’s gloves, for Jesper or Wylan wear them while caressing themselves or each other, but touching Kaz with them– that is new. Wylan hovers a hand over Kaz’s good leg and Kaz nods. The sensation is strange – he knows every inch of the gloves, so familiar they’re part of himself, and one hand gently closes around his ankle and strokes reassuringly. It’s comforting more than anything, even with the strangeness of the gloves being on someone else's hand.
Kaz gasps again when Jesper rubs harder, using longer, firmer strokes on his cock. He’s leaking, his shorts are sticky with it but Jesper doesn’t seem to mind at all, taking care to stroke harder when he reaches the tip. The room is starting to blur slightly, and Kaz has a moment of quiet panic when he realizes he can’t see the windows behind Wylan very well. He should, right? He’s the only one facing them and… Ghezen fuck, he grips the sheets. He can’t, there’s no way to keep his eyes on them when they keep rolling back into his head.
“They’re locked,” Wylan says softly, when Kaz tries ineffectually to crane his neck. “New ones that Jesper made. He put bells on the panes too. They’ll sound if someone tries to open them from outside.”
Kaz tries to nod, but Jesper keeps up his regular, slow rhythm and his neck arches instead. Each stroke drags slowly along, the feeling curling around his cock through his balls, up through his belly and tingling at his nipples. Was it normal to feel it like this? All over his whole body? Kaz has gotten himself off plenty, but he knows what he likes and never bothers to take very long. This time, Jesper’s in control and he’s dragging it out, holding Kaz helpless on the bed, and he hates that but he loves it too – he’s on his back, the ceiling is a blur behind Jesper, and Kaz isn’t sure he could get up if he needed to, but it feels so good, and he’s safe. His hands twitch where they’re clutching the sheets, but the house is secured and no one will touch him except Jesper and Wylan. And they won’t touch his skin.
Every time it seems he might finally tip over the edge Jesper pulls his hand back, leaving Kaz bereft and gasping on the bed. He could just finish himself off, and he considers it for a second. But he asked for this, told Jesper and Wylan exactly what he wanted and by Ghezen he will see this scheme through. He will have this, he will give this. He can. Wylan keeps one hand steady on his ankle and even that is starting to feel indecent, gently stroking his fingers in a countertime to Jesper.
Jesper leans back over him, a shining, hazy vision in the low light, and Kaz squirms. Abruptly he feels an urge to get up, imagining his enemies waiting outside the door, in the corners of the room, ready to pounce while he’s helpless, but Kaz swallows it back. He’s safe, he’s safe, and he’s helpless right now because he wanted it, he wants Jesper and Wylan with him, wants to come with them near him, with their hands on him.
His hips convulse again when Jesper’s hand gently presses back on his thigh, next to his cock. Kaz grips the sheets harder, ready for the onslaught, all his muscles tightening. Jesper strokes along his cock again, with the side of his hand and the shuddering spreads to his stomach – a hook pulls behind his belly and every time his muscles there move it sends shockwaves up the rest of his body, out through his fingers and toes. He’s shaking – when did that start? – his whole body, arms and legs trembling, and he’s not in control of any of it. If it wasn’t for Wylan’s hand, steady on his ankle, Kaz suspects he would simply float up off the bed and away into the night.
“Look at him, Wy. Beautiful.” Jesper says, grinning. Kaz can’t even see straight but he knows Jesper’s expression with absolute certainty, that asshole. Wylan’s too. If he could, he’d blush even more to have them talk about him like this. He’s used to it being the other way, being the one looking. On his back being watched is something new and terrifying and so good he sighs.
“Are you going to finish the poor man off? Or just keep torturing him?” Wylan asks lightly, smoothing one gloved hand on Kaz’s calf.
“Hm, I don’t know.” Jesper smirks. “We’ll have to think about it. You want that Kaz? For us to keep you hard all night and never let you come?”
“I think--” Kaz gasps and shudders again when Jesper strokes him– “I want to– ah, Jes.” Jesper grins devilishly, increasing the pressure before pulling back again.
“You’re being so good. Good for us,” Jesper murmurs, and Kaz’s jaw drops open as something hot and eager surges through him. It’s - he’s not good, he’s never been good, but the word in Jesper’s mouth takes on a new meaning, and he wants it for himself. Another stroke along his shaft and yes, yes he wants to be good, he’ll be good forever. “Doing so well,” Jesper continues, “you could just touch yourself and get off, but you haven’t. And you’re right on the edge too. But you’re lying here and letting us touch you.”
“Oh, he does like that,” murmurs Wylan, keeping the slow, steady rhythm on Kaz’s ankle.
It should be humiliating– he should hate this– but Kaz’s cock twitches at their words, and that hook behind his belly button jerks, sending spasms of pleasure tingling through him. Jesper’s hand is gone again but it hardly matters, with his words replacing his hands stroking up and down Kaz’s sides. Good. Good for us. His hips stutter into empty air and Kaz grips the sheets violently, fighting his body back under control, because Ghezen help him, he won’t let himself come just from the words alone.
There’s a sound and it takes Kaz a moment – Jesper’s talking again. Saying something Kaz can’t understand, and he struggles around the words. But his tone is off and Kaz immediately tries to fight his way back to the surface, teeth clenched. Something’s wrong, something’s happened and he’s too out of it to understand.
“Kaz? Hey, can you hear me? Do you want to stop?” Jesper sounds… worried? Wylan’s hand has stopped moving on his ankle, only sitting there in calm support. Kaz forces his eyes to focus on them.
Kaz takes a moment, breathing. “No,” he chokes, “it’s just more than I thought.”
“But you’re alright?” Wylan insists, damn him.
“Yes,” Kaz rasps, but it comes out as a moan. “Yes, yes, I…” he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, the words circling around in a haze. Yes. Please. Call me good. I can be good. He thinks the word again, good, the way Jesper’s lips formed around it like a pearl perched atop some rich pigeon’s brooch. He shudders.
“I think he wants you to keep going, Jes,” Wylan says, voice dark and delighted. “I think he wants you to tell him how good he is.”
“Kaz?” Jesper repeats. “You’re ok? That’s what you want?”
“Yes,” Kaz groans, “yes, I… yes.”
“Oh ho, you do like that. Saints, who would have guessed?” Jesper smiles down at him and Kaz swears never to tell him how lovely he is.
“So good,” Jesper says, in a low voice, and Kaz gulps in air. He’s heard it before with Wylan, but Jesper’s never used that tone on him. It shouldn’t be doing this to his insides. Kaz will never be able to hear the word again without getting hard. “We should show Inej, when she comes back into port, hm? Show you off to her. Show her how good,” you are.”
And that, just the idea of Inej watching him sends Kaz spiraling down into the hazy whirlpool of arousal – he can imagine her dark eyes on him from the corner of the room. Watching Jesper and Wylan take him apart. Her small, quiet smile of approval. He could be good for them, Inej would watch him be good and it’s… too much, shit.
He wants to be good. He wants Inej to watch him, hear Jesper say how good he is, just for them. For her. He isn’t, he can never be but he wants that word, he’s always been a thief in his heart and he’ll snatch it up for himself. You can, Kaz. He can be good.
Wylan shifts, and Kaz can tell he’s rubbing himself, gently. The same rhythm he’s keeping on Kaz’s ankle with the hand wearing his gloves. Oh. Oh, it’s so nice, and Wylan holds his ankle and his eyes are on Kaz like he’ll never get enough and Kaz wants to be embarrassed but he can’t.
“Ready?” Murmurs Jesper, reaching again for his cock. Kaz’s hips jump when he stops his hand, holding it tantalizingly close. “Kaz? Ready to come?”
Jesper’s asking to be a smug shit, but also asking asking. Warning him, letting him decide how he wants this to go.
Part of Kaz wants to say no, that he’ll handle it himself. Take himself in hand and end it now, it won’t take much, just curl his fingers and twist and he’ll be gone. But he wants this, asked for this, to come from their hands on him, even when part of him recoils from it. It’s his last set of defenses, another piece of his armor falling away. They’ll have their hands on him when he’s really and truly at his most vulnerable, when he’s nothing, nothing but a stupid Barrel rat in the house of rich men with every last protection stripped away. He can say no. He should say no.
But the house is safe. (Jesper said he was good.)
Jesper and Wylan both – they took such precautions, sending everyone away, bolting the windows, letting him put his bottles by the door. The room is warmer than they even like it and he knows, from the new locks to the way they’ve kept watch over the room this whole time, that they want him to be safe enough for this.
“Yes,” he grunts. “Yes, yes, I…” He won’t let himself beg, but it’s a near thing. He’s splayed out on their bed, being touched where it’s safe. Maybe he won’t ever belong here, not really. But he can pretend, he can let them have part of him, he can steal this moment and lock it away forever.
Kaz jumps again when Jesper’s hand makes contact with his cock, and Jes has turned it over so his palm is forward but it’s fine, Kaz can’t feel the grasping hands of the harbor, he only gasps and chokes in relief when Jesper caresses him again, not slowly this time but with quick, heavy strokes. Not frantically fast – Jesper’s still clearly determined to draw this out – but enough, it’s finally enough, each stroke sends Kaz spiraling closer to the edge.
Every muscle in Kaz’s body starts to tighten, contract and he wants to curl up into himself for this, cover his face, hide away, but he won’t, he won’t he won’t. He whimpers, because its building higher and steeper and it’s so much, he’s never… he’s going to fall – dropping from a roof that’s much too high. He’s shaking again, gasping for air – this might actually kill him, can you die from coming too hard? Wylan’s hand soothingly strokes his leg, in Kaz’s own gloves, and he’s safe, he’s on his back falling a thousand feet but the landing is soft.
That heavy, hot feeling in his belly yanks down hard, and Kaz’s whole body rolls and arches, tingling pleasure crashing through him in waves. Jesper’s face is haloed above him. He’s beaming, grinning like he’s won at the tables, and Kaz catches himself reaching out, just before he touches Jesper’s cheek. He wants to feel Jesper’s stubble and skin under his bare hands, but he doesn’t dare – not yet, not tonight, but he will. He’ll hold them. He wants more than anything Jesper’s face in his hands, against his cheek. To bury his fingers in Wylan’s hair and slide an arm around his waist. One on either side (Kaz has always been greedy, he sees no reason to stop now), holding each other and him securely between them, and for once the thought doesn’t send him into a scrambling panic. He just wants, as something hot and sharp unfurls from somewhere deep inside, burning through him, snaking up his spine.
Jesper’s seen Kaz reach for him, of course, and his grin widens, he tilts his head back and fucking preens, just as he rubs harder against Kaz’s jumping cock. Kaz cries out when the orgasm finally slams him like a wave catching a smallboat – Ghezen, what came before was just a prelude. It’s a wild thing, he’s been stalked all night and now he’s in the grips of it, and Kaz is aware he’s trembling, fighting it. He can’t let it take him completely – it’s his own body, he needs to manage, allow it passage through him. But there’s no winning here, nothing can be held at bay – Jesper strokes him harder, and Kaz is powerless under his hands. He’s squirming mindlessly at the same time his hips arch up, his vision greying at the edges and he’s looking at Jesper from down a long tunnel. Jesper’s lips are moving, and Kaz can barely hear him over the sound of his own heartbeat ringing in his ears.
“Breathe,” Jesper says, from somewhere far away. “Breathe for me, there you go, you’re doing so good…”
Another wave slams into Kaz – or maybe it’s still the first wave, he can neither understand nor control what’s happening with his own body – and he jerks, gasping for air, grabbing at nothing, lightning crackling through him, spiraling out and setting every nerve on fire. He cries out again and his muscles contract but there’s still no controlling it. Kaz’s face is wet, and he hopes to everything it’s just sweat, even as his eyes sting with tears. Why would he cry? When there’s nothing to…
Jesper strokes him hard again, Wylan’s thumb moves on his leg and the wave surges up to another crest. He can’t fight it, their hands hold him steady and safe, and Kaz can do nothing but allow them to keep him there. Wants to do nothing but be kept.
Another wave
And another.
Kaz whimpers because it’s still going, and maybe never going to stop. He shivers through it, hopelessly adrift.
The leather of Kaz’s gloves caresses along his shin. Kaz focuses on that. He’s on his back, on the bed in Wylan and Jesper’s house. A smaller wave rolls over him, his limbs loose, and there’s no fighting it, he can’t do anything but feel it wash over him and away.
Another.
Something rough and dry rubs against his face, and Kaz forces his bleary eyes open. Wylan’s hand is still on his leg, thank Ghezen. Jesper’s on the other side of the cloth, murmuring quiet nonsense and wiping the sweat away from his eyes.
Kaz finally curls to his side, hiding his face on the pillow, tucking his arms in. Breathing. They’re still there, he can feel the bed move when Wylan shifts, hear footsteps from Jesper.
He’s flushed with victory and embarrassment. He’s done it, he came, he didn’t drown or panic. Kaz knows he shouldn’t feel so pleased with himself but he does, the same tingling thrill that came from cracking a difficult safe. Maybe he shouldn’t feel so triumphant about something everyone else manages with ease, but he can put that aside for later. He’s won the battle, he got his money, the city, and now this.
Another rough cloth is dropped into his hands, he grips and twists it, the terrycloth biting into the tender skin between his fingers. It’s so perfect, fitting exactly into a hole in his senses he didn’t know he’d been missing. Rough and wild – normally when he’s overcome like this he ends up in a fight, the rhythmic thud of fists and flashing knives dragging him out of his own head and anchoring him in his body. But that isn’t what he wants tonight.
The house is warm and safe, and he can stay if he wants.
Slowly his breathing calms, the towel still wrapped tight in his fists. He shifts, adjusting his leg, and finds a pillow has been propped near his knee.
Kaz finally turns to look and finds Jesper seated on the edge of the bed with Wylan standing. Jesper’s head is leaning against Wylan’s hip, and Wylan – still wearing Kaz’s gloves – is cradling Jesper’s jaw with one hand, while rubbing comforting circles along his neck and back with the other. Jesper lets out a sigh and reaches one arm up to rest on the small of Wylan’s back.
“We’re going to make something to eat,” Wylan says, smoothing a gloved thumb over Jesper’s jaw, before carefully removing Kaz’s gloves. His eyes are soft when they meet Kaz’s. “You’re welcome to join, but I thought you might want a few minutes to dress.”
Kaz nods jerkily from the bed. How do they – he does want to be alone, to settle into his own skin. Jesper stands up and stretches, while Wylan busily scoots the bottles away from the door. “We’ll make enough for three,” he says with a wink.
-
It’s better, back in his clothes, waistcoat buttoned. Kaz feels more like himself.
He sniffs the air, taking in the mess in the kitchen and the bowl of batter Jesper’s stirring.
“Waffles? How very Zenik of you.”
“Strangest thing,” Wylan says over his shoulder, measuring batter into smaller bowls. “Last month a waffle iron appeared in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. Scared the daylights out of the cook, you know. I figured we might as well use it. Here, pour that batter in there.”
There’s a smudge of flour on the side of Wylan’s nose, and Kaz has the sudden, astonishing desire to lick it off. He shrugs it away, turning to the iron on the stove and eyeing the pile of already-finished waffles on the warm plate next to it. “Can’t believe you’re making a guest cook for you. Where’s your mercher decorum?”
“Guests are invited. They come in through the front door, sometimes bringing a bottle of wine. They don’t appear in the hallway in the middle of the night or leave mysterious piles of bandages in the East wing suite. Half my staff think the house is haunted, by the way, so thanks for that. Flip the iron.”
“Also we don’t usually fuck guests,” Jesper adds cheerfully.
Kaz deposits the waffle on the pile with the others. There’s a bowl nearby on the counter filled with clotted cream, three serving spoons stuck in the sides. He almost doesn’t; Kaz is very used to quashing his useless, stupid impulses. It’s why he’s still alive, after all. But they are alone.
(The house is safe, the windows are locked.)
Grabbing a spoon from the bowl, he turns around to face Jesper and Wylan. Slowly as he can, he licks the cream off the spoon handle. It’s sweet and cold, and with their eyes on him Kaz suddenly feels completely stupid.
“Oh no, darling,” Jesper says with a laugh, and something flips over Kaz’s stomach at the endearment. “You’re doing that all wrong. Here.” He grabs another spoon. “Let me show you how.”
“No,” says Wylan, sounding exasperated. “You can’t just lick, you have to get some suction, like this.” He places the third spoon in his mouth and sucks the cream off it, making an obscene popping sound when he pulls it out.
“Now you try.”
Kaz takes another spoonful of cream and puts the spoon to his mouth. Jesper does a fake moan around his spoon and Kaz laughs, dropping the cream on his pants.
“That does happen,” Wylan deadpans. “Always keep in mind where the spoon is pointing.”
Kaz puts the spoon on his plate and piles some waffles next to it, pulling jam from the cupboard. “Maybe you can give me some more tips later.”
“You’re not headed back to the Slat?”
Kaz shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, like this is easy, feeling his ears burn. “Storm means there won’t be much work tonight. I thought I might stay a while, if that’s alright.”
“We’re going to need something more substantial than waffles then,” Jesper says with a grin. “Keep our energy up.”
“Of course, we don’t have to,” Wylan breaks in, shooting Jesper an exasperated look but directing his words to Kaz. “I mean, if you’d rather not.”
“Rather would,” mutters Kaz, certain he’s now blushing all the way down to his toes.
“I told you!” Jesper laughs, looking at Wylan. “Our combined prowess is too much for the scariest Barrel boss in Ketterdam. He’s in our sway. What should we do with him?”
Kaz flicks clotted cream at Jesper. They’re so good together, Jesper and Wylan… and Kaz. Maybe he’s known that longer than he cares to admit. But the night is still young, and they have tomorrow. And the next night. As many nights as they want, really.
“Is that scheming face? Should we be worried?” jokes Wylan, spreading jam on his own waffles.
“I have an idea,” Kaz says, watching Jesper’s eyes light up, Wylan’s satisfied smile. A thousand possibilities wait for them, warm and bright.