Lonely Hearts (23 page)

Everyone mingled in the kitchen for a few minutes, nervous for Lejla but with no real way to help her. Mina declared she and Jilly would take turns with Aaron and Giles, hanging out in the kitchen for when she came home. Elijah was about to put himself on the rotation when Baz led him out of the room, toward the stairs. “I have something to show you in our room.”

The
something
was the suit Elijah had worn to Walter and Kelly's wedding, minus shoes, socks and tie. Three lengths of three-inch-wide black silk lay innocently beside the suit, and unlit candles dotted the room.

Baz came up behind Elijah, wrapping arms around his waist as he nibbled on Elijah's neck. “Would my lord like assistance getting dressed?”

The British accent and silky tone made Elijah instantly hard. He shut his eyes and reached over his shoulder to catch hold of Baz's hair. “Now? You want to play demon and earl
now
?”

Baz kept teasing Elijah's neck, moving his hand to brazenly cup Elijah's erection. “Lejla won't be home for hours. Besides, you were up late. You could use a nap.”

Elijah's cock happily filled Baz's hand, but his gaze kept straying to the silk ties. “How kinky is this going to get?”

“As kinky as you want.” Baz drew on Elijah's earlobe with his teeth. “Might I suggest, master, you allow me to blindfold you whilst I prepare the chamber?”

Elijah tugged on Baz's hair. “There are three ties. So one is the blindfold? What are the other two for?”

Baz chuckled and nipped Elijah's ear. “Come now, my lord. Surely you have imagination enough to figure that out.”

Elijah sat on the bed, arms spread wide, his wrists tied in loose silk knots against the headboard. Behind the wide, Baz-scented third silk tie, he kept his eyes closed as he listened to Baz putter about the bedroom. In the distance he occasionally heard their housemates, who he hoped to God had no idea Elijah and Baz were playing kinky anime role-play in their room.

Barefoot, his dress shirt half-undone, his dick in a state of permanent semi-arousal inside his trousers, Elijah's world was nothing but darkness and tension as he waited to see what insanity Baz was about to lead them into.

When gloved fingers stroked his cheek, he jumped, but when Baz sat on the edge of the bed, Elijah couldn't help leaning into that touch.

“There, there, young master.” Baz still used the sexy British voice, and it made Elijah shiver. “I've dispatched your attackers as requested.” He clucked his tongue and ran those gloved fingers across the open vee of Elijah's shirt. “You seem to have become somewhat compromised. I fear you've been given a powerful aphrodisiac and are no longer fit to travel.”

Elijah felt ridiculous. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say—Baz had been vague on a script, which was just as well, as Elijah would have ruined any attempts to follow it. Unwilling to spoil the moment, he held still and waited, until Baz's wandering hands made it clear they would wander near Elijah's crotch but not onto it. Elijah tipped his head back and groaned when his efforts to push into Baz's grip failed. “Stop teasing.”

“I'm afraid there's no joke about this, my lord. The drug they gave you is quite powerful. You must ride it out as long as possible—if you give in to your carnal desires too soon, the drug will kill you.” Gloved fingers skated over Elijah's nipples. “I cannot allow you to break our contract, so I must guide you through these treacherous waters.”

The only thing treacherous was the way Baz kept tormenting Elijah without leading him to so much as the same zip code as relief. Elijah arched as Baz lightly pinched a nipple. “Stop.” He tugged at his wrists. “Untie me, Baz.”

The pinch came again, along with a slap on his hip. Elijah swallowed a moan. Baz didn't have to say a word for Elijah to know his boyfriend wanted him to stay in character. He felt foolish, though, so he said nothing, hoping if he waited it out, Baz would take them naturally to the next phase of the game.

Three minutes later he broke his whimper to gasp out, “Sebastian. Untie me, Sebastian.”

“I'm so sorry, my lord. You're a danger to yourself right now. For your own safety, I must keep you bound. But if you wish, I will remove your blindfold.”

“Yes,” Elijah said before he could dissect whether or not that was a good idea.

He hissed when the fingers at his nipples ground out even more tantalizing circles. “Remember how you must ask me, young master.”

Elijah ground his teeth as he tried not to chase Baz's teasing fingers. In the show, the demon butler always made Ciel give deliberate commands, and Sebastian always responded the same way. Elijah bit back his assigned line in defiance, but he didn't last long against those fingers. “Sebastian, I order you to remove my blindfold.”

“Yes, my lord.”

As the silk came away, Elijah blinked in disorientation as he adjusted to the soft red glow. His libido kicked up at the sight of the deliciously disheveled Sebastian in front of him. His tux was neatly buttoned up, but he had subtle eyeliner on, white gloves and…

“Holy shit, you dyed your hair black?” Jesus—this was a temporary color, right? Elijah hadn't realized how attached he was to Baz's light brown hair. Then he saw no, it was a wig.

Baz cupped Elijah's cheek, his expression all concern. “Dear me, you're further gone than I thought. Perhaps I should leave you alone to your torment and stand guard so no one sees you in this deplorable state.”

Elijah tried to lift his leg to trap Baz with it, but Baz had them pinned with his hip. “Don't you fucking dare.”

Baz pouted, his naked eyes even more sensual in the red light. “So many hours remain until you are free of the poison, so much torture you must endure. How kind of you to insist I observe. You know how I delight in your discomfort.”

Elijah had never been more pissed off and turned on at the same time in his life. He could barely keep in character, especially when Baz kept touching his chest. “Stop playing around. Fuck me.”

“So
vulgar
. So desperate. Alas, much as I would love to see you open for me in such a deliciously carnal way, as I have said, I cannot until the danger has passed.”

Elijah wished Baz would come closer so he could bite him. “Enough. No more games.
Fuck me.
Or at least put your hand on my dick.”

“But you
love
games, my lord.”

Baz put his hand on Elijah's cock—rested it casually over the lump in his trousers, remaining immobile when Elijah thrust into it. When Elijah cried out in frustration, Baz laughed.

“You're so pretty when you're desperate, young master.”

Elijah tugged on the silk ties. “Suck my cock, Sebastian. I order you to suck my cock.”

“Yes, my lord.”

An eternity passed as Baz undid the button and the zipper. He withdrew Elijah's throbbing dick with tender, careful touches, and pressed his hips firmly into the mattress. He glanced up at Elijah with an expression promising mischief as he sucked the barest tip of Elijah's cock into his mouth.

Elijah groaned and fought him, but Baz wouldn't let him thrust, would only hold him in place, technically sucking but mostly licking and teasing. At first Elijah thought the tingle was his own anticipation, but when Baz worked his lips deliberately over the glans, the prickling sensation on his genitals became intense. “What the fuck is that?”

“In anticipation of your requested fellatio, I applied extra lip balm.” Baz tongued Elijah's slit, working his lip over the hole until Elijah hissed. “It's possible I used a product with excessive peppermint. I took the liberty as I imagined the sensation would be a pleasant distraction from your unfortunately necessary delayed gratification.”

Elijah was willing to bet Baz had slicked peppermint
oil
over his lips.

Baz licked Elijah's cock before withdrawing. Removing a small yellow tube from his pocket, he re-smeared his lips and lowered them to Elijah's balls. Elijah became delirious at this point, and when Baz took off his trousers and pushed Elijah's legs back, he didn't fight, only whimpered as Baz worked his peppermint lips over his taint and hole. When Baz finally kissed his way up Elijah's body, Elijah had tears leaking out and running down the sides of his face. His grip on the role-play was weak—he'd accepted the torture because he'd gotten addicted to the sexy glances and smiles his personal demon kept giving him. His dick, balls and ass burned with peppermint oil, and when Baz reapplied his lip balm while staring at Elijah's nipples, he gave in to his inner whore and begged for it.

“Please.” He watched, dizzy, as Baz bent to take first one, then the other nipple into his mouth.

His cock ached when Baz was finished. He whispered and tried to meet him for a kiss, but Baz pressed still-gloved fingers to his lips and sat up, leaving Elijah bereft.

“May I suggest some refreshment, my lord.”

Baz produced a silver tray with a pair of gummy rings on them—they were, Elijah knew, marijuana-laced. Elijah nodded, opening his mouth to receive the treat, groaning when Baz delivered it via his mouth. Baz kissed his neck as Elijah swallowed.

“Only a few more hours, my lord, and I may give you your release.”

A few more hours.
Elijah opened his mouth to say no, but Baz put the gloved fingers inside as he resumed his lazy nips and licks of Elijah's nipples.

As the drug burned into his system, Elijah became more and more wanton, ordering Baz to suck his nipples, to fondle his cock. Feeling as if he were nothing but one big fucking erection, Elijah rolled over the edge and embraced the kinky game full-on.

“Sebastian, I order you to stick your tongue in my ass.”

“Yes, my lord.” Baz sucked briefly on the center of Elijah's belly. “Might I suggest some fingering also, and that you allow me to place a large pillow beneath your backside for more complete access.”

Elijah drew his knees up until his ass stuck out and his belly quivered. “Just fucking do it.”

He watched, buzzing and so horny he hurt, as Baz pushed a doubled-over pillow underneath Elijah before positioning himself at the foot of the bed. He pressed on Elijah's thighs, opening him wider, then withdrew a small bottle from his jacket pocket. When the cap came off, Elijah hissed at the smell. “Fuck you and your peppermint.”

“Alas, you will need to wait to be fucked, master.” Baz pushed a peppermint-oil-soaked finger against Elijah's hole. “But I will happily torment you sexually to pass the time.”

Torment he did, and Elijah watched it all—Baz's finger disappearing inside him, burning even as the thumb of his other hand made Elijah ready to accept Baz's silky tongue. Elijah struggled, gasping and crying out and swearing at Baz as he teased Elijah without giving him any kind of resolution. When Baz brought out proper lube and switched his oral ministrations to Elijah's dick as he pushed two, three fingers inside, Elijah began to punctuate grunts around demands. “Fuck me, Sebastian. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Baz pulled off Elijah's cock with an audible pop as his fingers wormed deeper. “How shall I fuck you, my lord?”

“With your fucking dick.”

“But
how
, young master? Do you want it slow and dogged, or fast and rough?”

Elijah kept trying to bear down on those fingers, but Baz kept the rhythm uneven. “Fast. Hard. Rough. Fuck me into the fucking wall. Untie me so I can rake my fingernails over your goddamned back, you fucking bastard.”

Baz kissed his way up Elijah's chest and teased the corners of his mouth. “Use the words I prefer, darling.”

Elijah wanted to bite him. “I order you to fucking fuck me into the wall with my hands untied so I can claw your skin off.”

“Yes, my lord.” Baz kissed him hard but quick. “However, I cannot untie your hands. Those I leave bound because you require a reminder.”

Elijah watched Baz kneel between his legs, undoing his trousers. “What reminder?
Unf
,” he grunted as Baz pressed his cock bluntly at the entrance to Elijah's body.

Baz kept pushing in, tucking Elijah's legs over his shoulders, and he stared at Elijah from beneath his jet-black hair as he buried himself inside. “A reminder that
we
are bound. No matter what you perceive has come between us, I am yours, Elijah.” He thrust shallowly, stroking Elijah's cheek. “And you are mine.”

For a moment they stared at one another, the game paused.

This was Baz,
his
Sebastian, speaking to Elijah. Telling him, in the middle of kinky role-play, to not ever talk about breaking up because of the political nightmare again. Saying, basically, Baz was prepared to be pretty irrational and insistent about keeping Elijah around. He was staking his claim.

This game, this demon role-play—this was what he feared had been his reality. That Baz was a devil tormenting him, threatening to consume his soul. Without having ever seen the show or read the books, he was convinced he was Ciel Phantomhive in a contract with Black Butler.

Except he knew now Sebastian Acker could wear all the wigs he wanted, could play all the games in the world, but he'd never be dark. He wasn't even Howl with his heart in a demon's belly. He held it aching in his own bare hands, desperate to give it away, terrified to try.

He had, for quite some time now, been passing it to Elijah. Over and over and over.

Elijah melted, broke in half, swallowed hard. He nodded. “Yes. I'm yours.”

I'll keep your heart safe, Baz. As best I can, for as long as you'll let me.

Chapter Nineteen

Lejla returned late that evening, looking weary. She disappeared out back to smoke with Elijah, and later in bed, Baz got a rundown.

“She said it was okay. They weren't surprised, but they weren't happy. Her mom cried, her dad worried about how safe she was. But it was a start.”

“Does she need anything?”

Elijah shrugged. “Time.”

There truly wasn't much else to do except support her, which they did as they'd always done. As August wore on, though, they all, including Lejla, became distracted by the imminent dawn of school resuming.

Giselle and Stephan continued to litter Baz's email with talking points and media guides, which he kept meaning to read but never did. He was too busy helping Liz almost daily now, and he'd had lunch with Ed from therapy twice. For the first time in his life, he talked openly and often about his injury. Not about
getting
injured, but about what a pain in the ass it was to live with chronic pain.

One day in the middle of August someone knocked on the door of the White House. Baz braced himself, ready for it to be reporters, but Damien and Marius stood on his front porch.

Baz opened the door wide, frowning at them as they came into the foyer. “What in the world are you guys doing here?”

Damien gave him a look of incredulity. “Jesus, Baz, what do you think? You don't answer our texts half the time, and you turn down every suggestion we make to get together.”

Marius didn't seem pissed half as much as he was concerned. “We saw the articles about your uncle and your mom.”

Christ. This was a goddamned intervention. Baz rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, it's fine. Sorry I've been bad about being in touch.”

Damien appeared ready to launch into an angry lecture, but Marius stilled him with a hand on his arm as he glanced around the living room. “Looks great in here. Different, but good.”

Baz hadn't thought about the place looking different, but it did. Giles had brought in a new chair. Jilly had brought new curtains. Aaron and Brian had turned some of the posters they'd done for Lejla's coming-out party into living room art, and they hung on the wall by the television. The corner by Fred's practice room was a sea of computer parts.

It was weird to stand there with Damien and Marius, who
didn't
belong in the White House anymore.

Baz turned away from the living room and the conflicting feelings it generated. “You guys eat yet? Care for an early lunch?”

They went to the noodle bar, where they ate and Baz gave them the story on the new house order, including the addition of Lejla. “Sid's been great about giving up his room, and I think this is the best environment for her.” He swished his fork through his noodles. “It's important she know people have her back. I had you guys. Now it's my turn.”

Damien shook his head. “We get distracted for six weeks, and you become an adult. Could graduation be next?”

They were teasing, but Baz told them about meeting Ed and possibly volunteering at Halcyon Center. “I haven't been there yet, but I'm already convinced it's going to be exactly the kind of thing I'm looking for. Helping people at Saint Timothy and the White House, except concentrated. And younger. Half the reason I haven't gone to see it yet is I worry if I like it as much as I think I will, I won't want to go back to school at all. I'm pretty sure my parents would flip the fuck out if I went to school for six years and managed to come out with no degree whatsoever.”

Damien arched an eyebrow. “Why don't you talk to the dean about getting a degree in liberal arts?”

Baz laughed. “What, major in
nothing
?”

“Not
nothing
. It's nonspecific, yes, but basically it says you went to college and studied broadly. You have to have fulfilled it a billion times over, but you could declare it and do some kind of independent study, make this last semester a kind of capstone course. You might not even need to take any regular classes, only have meetings with an advisor.”

Baz's brain was spinning out possibilities of making his work with Liz and volunteering at Halcyon Center an internship, but when he heard
last semester
, his mental record scratched. “Wait—
what
? You're saying I should graduate in December?”

Damien shrugged. “Why not? By January you could be doing what you want.”

Baz balked. “I don't
know
for sure what I want.” His first thought was
no more choir rooming with Elijah
, but his second thought was how great it would feel to be a real adult like everyone else his age. His head spun with new possibility, and he tried to anchor it with doubt. “Isn't it failing to drop out of school?”

Damien was a dog with a bone now. “Not drop out, Baz.
Graduate.
And of course you don't know exactly what you want. None of us do.” He exchanged a glance with Marius, some kind of somber knowing passing between them. “It's weird, being done. I'm not going to lie. I miss the insulating bubble of college. I get why you keep hanging on. But I'm here to tell you, it's all kinds of fun too. I miss living with you guys, but I'm having a ball setting up house with Stevie. She's nuts with wedding planning right now, but it feels
good
. I'm moving forward. It's scary as hell, but it's good scary.”

Marius nodded. “Med school is intense. Crazy intense. But I'm already learning so much, and I just started. Living with Kelly and Walter is good too, and it makes me motivated to not only focus on school. Today, for instance. When I ended up with this odd day off at the beginning of the week, I thought I'd use the time to study or get to know my peers. But then I heard Kelly and Walter fussing over making plans with their friend Rose who just moved to town, and I thought, no. I want to make sure I don't lose the friends I already have.” He grimaced. “I'm sorry. I should have been better about reaching out.”

Warmth bloomed in Baz's chest. “You were busy with med school.”

“It doesn't matter. I told you I'd be there for you, and I wasn't.”

Damien sighed. “Same. I'm sorry.”

Baz wanted to tease them out of the heavy moment, but he couldn't. It meant a lot to him that they came to see him. “It's okay. I mean, yeah, it sucks not having things the way they always were, and I'm frustrated being the guy time forgot. But that's my bad, not yours. And—well, I'm doing okay.”

Marius quirked an eyebrow. “You still with Elijah?”

“Yeah.” The smile blooming on Baz's face was one he couldn't stop. “He's a handful, but you know me. Adds to the challenge.”

Damien smiled back. “Good. I admit, when he threw down with me at the wedding, I had hope. May things keep going well for the two of you.”

Marius's expression became grave. “Talk to us about your mom. Did you know this announcement was coming? Is it affecting you in any way?”

Shrugging, Baz gave them a quick review of his mom's forewarning, her asking for permission, the addition of Giselle and an exponentially increasing number of staff he had to sift through to try and get his actual parent on the phone. To his surprise, instead of nodding and offering their best wishes, Damien and Marius frowned and glanced at each other in silent, sober conference.

Baz frowned too. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Damien rubbed his stubble and grimaced before replying. “She really made you tell her it was okay to drag you through her mud?”

“That's not what…” Baz trailed off, stunned as he realized it
was
what she'd done.

Marius turned his palm face up on the table. “I know she's wanted to run for public office for a while, but it is a bit crass to do it
now
. This wasn't a great time for it to happen to you.”

Baz held up his hands. “This is how my family rolls.
Life
is a political opportunity.”

“
Their
lives, Baz. Not yours.” Damien sighed. “Never mind. This arguing isn't going to help you, and it's not why we're here. We wanted to check on
you
, to hear how things were going with
you
. Tell us everything.”

Baz did. It was hours before they drove Baz to the White House, and when they parted, it was after a pile of hugs and vows they would do better at keeping in touch with each other. It had been a wonderful surprise, a great time out with his best friends. But their comment about his family kept ringing in his ears.

Their lives. Not yours.

Baz wandered into the practice room and found Elijah huddled at his computer. He glanced up blearily when Baz entered, but he smiled. He was eating one of Liz's sugar cookies, drinking coffee Brian had made, writing his fantasy novel, which he'd taken over at the expense of all his erotica, even though he was pretty sure fantasy would sell a billion times worse than the lackluster numbers his erotic shorts were bringing in. He didn't care, he said. He was excited about this one, and he knew what to do with it now. Something about the hero trying to cast an enchanted box of emotions into a demon's furnace. It didn't make a ton of sense to Baz, but Elijah was happy when he wrote the story, and that meant Baz was happy.

This was his life. This was what he wanted. And he
had
it, already, right here in front of him.

If only he could figure out the way to make sure he kept it.

Elijah did his best not to let the online articles get to him. He tried not to Google himself, but it felt too much like leaving a door unguarded, so he compromised by doing it only twice a day. The Wednesday before classes restarted, he talked about it with Pastor. Schulz surprised him by suggesting it was time he contact his lawyer.

“Am I in trouble?” The thought made him want to throw up. How could his dad trying to fucking shoot him land
Elijah
in jail?

“No, but you need to keep them informed. Is your dad's trial soon?”

“Not until after the first of the year. They keep pushing it back. I had no idea it took so long.”

“Check in with your lawyers. If they don't feel anything needs to be done, fine, but let them know.”

Walter wasn't exactly Elijah's lawyer, but the firm he interned at handled Elijah's interests regarding the trial. Walter listened as Elijah detailed the wingnut diatribes, how they were getting worse. He asked Elijah if he could come in the next day for a meeting at the law office where he worked.

“Is this bad?”

“Not bad, I don't think, but I want you to talk with Bob. I'd rather be overly cautious than have this blow up in our face. It would be smart to give you a good PR script in case any of these reporters decide to talk to you.”

Elijah rubbed the beginnings of a headache out of his temple. “Great. So I've got the ones hunting Baz on one flank, my own on the other. It might be easier to switch to correspondence courses and hole up in the house.”

“Who's hunting Baz?” When Elijah explained about the senator thing, Walter became concerned. “Is there any chance you're free today? Even if we can't snag Bob, I'd like to start working up your talking points.”

Elijah ended up going over pretty much immediately. Baz was out at therapy with Liz, so Elijah texted he was taking the Tesla and went into the Cities. He was too unsettled to eat lunch, but Walter made him choke down a doughnut and cup of coffee as he spread out printouts and articles across a conference room table.

Walter had shed his suit jacket and tie, his shirtsleeves rolled up as he sifted through the papers. “Okay, I think I've been through the whole of it, and the good news is this is all smear.”

“How the hell is that
good
?”

“Because it's not factual. This is a twisting of minor details, attempting to conflate them into something substantial. The way it's so coordinated makes me think these are Howard's lawyers trying to start a parade on the side street in hopes people don't notice your dad's attempted murder. Premeditated murder. The county prosecutor will flay them alive. They're hoping if they can spin you into enough of a nightmare, the jury will be conflicted. But even if you
were
a monster, there's no way it'd justify trying to gun you down on a public campus—and injuring someone else in the process.”

“The thing is, it's not untrue, what they're saying. I
did
trick my parents into a year of college. I
did
fake a conversion.”

Walter sat beside Elijah and turned his chair so he could lean forward on his elbows. “You never, ever say those words to anybody else. I'm not telling you to lie—but that's an interpretation, not the facts. As a minor, you ran away from home because you felt unsafe. You went back to South Dakota because you determined you were choosing between two relative unsafe situations, and it was better to suffer emotional abuse than physical.”

“Nobody abused me, not really,” Elijah interjected, but Walter held up a hand.

“You've told me you sold yourself so you could eat, to find shelter from the cold. You were about to be beat up in a back alley for refusing to prostitute yourself when Baz found you. During none of this time were you a legal adult. Did your parents tell you to get out? Did you leave because of threats? Did you recant your orientation and fake a religious conversion because you determined if you didn't, you'd be kicked out again or beaten?”

Elijah's head swam. “Well…yeah, but I did do it to get back at them. I
was
vicious. I wanted to be.”

“I understand. And as your friend, I applaud it. As your lawyer-in-training, I'm telling you the court of law isn't the place to throw down. On paper, you're a child of abuse, and when you stood your ground, your father tried to take your life. That's the only story the public gets to hear. Everything else is spin.” He took Elijah's hand. “You have nothing to feel guilty over. But whether it's pride or a need to justify your choices, I will tell you all day long, and so will Bob, your father's attempted murder trial isn't the place to work stuff out. That's where we nail him to the fucking wall.
That's
where he pays. For being a shitty father. For
forcing
you to make the choices you did. For nearly killing Baz, and you, and Giles, and Aaron, and me and Kelly. He needs to pay. Don't let the assholes try to make this about you. Don't
you
make this about you. It isn't.”