The Power of Persuasion by Jane Davitt and Wesleysgirl Part Five Giles/Ethan

[janedavitt]

Here's part five of this fic, co-written with wesleysgirl. This part is rated NC17.

Thanks as always to those reading and feeding ::smooches::

Previous parts here



The Power of Persuasion by Jane Davitt and Wesleysgirl

Part Five

"Did you buy candles?" he asked. "Or are there lanterns?"

"I did buy candles," Rupert told him, "and there are oil lamps too." He dumped the bags he was carrying on the wooden table in the middle of the single room and looked around dubiously. "It won't be dark for a while anyway. Plenty of time to get settled in."

He seemed to be rather more subdued now he'd seen the place, which, perversely, cheered Ethan up.

Leaving the bag of food he'd been carrying next to the ones Rupert had set down, Ethan moved over to the bed that was against the far wall, noting that the only interior door in the cottage must lead to the bathroom. "All the comforts of home," he said. "You do realise there's only one bed?"

Rupert glanced around, taking in the bare surroundings. "You're forgetting the couch," he said, walking over to it and giving it a gingerly poke. He wrinkled his nose at the resulting puff of mildew-scented dust. "Let's keep on forgetting it, shall we? It's a double bed, Ethan, and I packed some old sleeping bags. I think we'll manage to share it without incident, don't you?"

"Well, that's a depressing thought," Ethan said, sitting down on the bed. "I know I'm a shadow of my former self, but I shouldn't like to think you'd need the Boy Scouts' equivalent of a chastity belt to protect your virtue." He couldn't help but remember the earlier, rather bruising kiss in Rupert's kitchen.

Rupert arched his eyebrow. "I don't recall you having problems pulling down zips in the past, Ethan, so it wouldn't be much of a protection, now would it?" Ethan got a slow, tight-lipped smile. "And possibly we're defining 'incident' differently?"
"Not if you're talking about sleeping bags." Ethan surveyed the bed glumly. "Although on the other hand we'd be less likely to catch some nasty disease. When do you think these sheets were last washed?" He certainly wasn't overly fastidious, but even he had his limits.

"I don't know," Rupert said, giving them an indifferent glance. "Probably never. I'm not planning to sleep on them, so it doesn't matter. Strip them off and I'll go and bring in something a little less redolent of fish."

He went back out to the car, returning with an armload of what proved to be the quilt and pillows Ethan had used the night before and two – unzipped - sleeping bags.

In the meantime, Ethan had taken off the sheets and for lack of anywhere better to put them, shoved them under the bed. The mattress seemed to be in surprisingly good condition, at least, and as Ethan and Rupert worked together to spread out the sleeping bags and quilt, Ethan couldn't help but feel a sort of nervous anticipation. "There will be heat, won't there?" he asked, rubbing his hands together and watching Rupert out of the corner of his eye.

"And what am I supposed to say to that?" Rupert asked, sounding more amused than anything. "Point to the wood stove and the logs piled up beside it, which you can hardly have failed to notice, or remind you that when we've shared a bed before you've never complained about feeling cold?"

Ethan met Rupert's gaze directly. "We never did have a problem generating heat, did we."

"You know we didn't," Rupert replied, the amusement leaving his voice. "But if you're asking if there's anything left but ashes, I don't know." He smoothed his hand over the covers, adjusting them with unnecessary precision, and then sat down heavily on the bed. "You never stay, Ethan. You come back into my life, disrupt it, and leave, and I've no reason to think this is going to be any different." He turned his head and Ethan saw the conflict on his face. "I can play this game, I can trade innuendo-laded quips with you and I think we both know how that'll end – and I'm not going to pretend I don't want that because I always want you. That never changes. But afterwards? I just don't know."

It took a great deal of self-control not to flare into anger. Or perhaps, Ethan thought, he was just too pleased that Rupert had admitted that he wanted him – that he always wanted him. He sat down on the bed again, careful that there was some space between them. "I wasn't the one who left the first time," he pointed out. "That was you."

"You know why I did. Why I had to." Rupert shook his head. "We can't do this. Can't drag up something from, Christ, nearly thirty years ago and argue over it again. It's pointless." He placed his hand on the bed, his spread fingers a bare inch away from Ethan's hand. "Were you glad I could touch you without being hurt, Ethan? Or does it gall you to realise what it means that I can? How connected we still are? I couldn't help touching you last night, do you know that? I felt... compelled to do it. To go to you. On some level, we're still linked."

Ethan's chest felt tight. "Of course I was glad," he said quietly. "I knew how strong the connection was. Is. I just didn't realise it went both ways." That was the sort of thing that he shouldn't admit, he knew; this conversation was rapidly falling into dangerous territory. Better to concentrate on the concrete and not muddy the waters with emotion. "There's no guarantee that I can't hurt you, you know, just because we've touched a few times and you've walked away from it unscathed."

"That's certainly a risk, but it doesn't seem to be bothering you much as you're doing your best to make sure I can't think about anything but touching you," Rupert snapped. "Or am I supposed to not react to what you're saying? Sorry, but I'm finding that a little difficult given the circumstances."

"No," Ethan said, standing up, deliberately disengaging from the situation. "No, you're right." Clearly the hope that this would be anything more than a brief exercise was nothing but a pipe dream. He needed to get that through his head now. "We'll just focus on the problem, shall we? Not get personal?" There was no possible way he'd manage that, but he could pretend, certainly.

"I think I just made it rather embarrassingly clear that isn't possible, not for me," Rupert said tiredly. "And if you can think of a way we can do any sort of cleansing or healing rituals without it getting personal, I'll be amazed." He stood up. "Speaking of which, the books and my case are still in the car. I'll bring them in."

"All right." Ethan didn't argue.

While Rupert went out to the car, Ethan went over and looked through the bags of food. There was no refrigerator, of course, so nothing that strictly needed to be put away, and he wasn't sure there was any point in putting things in the few open cupboards above the small gas stove, but he began to do it anyway. He was too tired to be hungry despite his long nap in the car or to look up when he heard Rupert come back in and shut the door.

All he wanted to do, really, was to lie down and close his eyes, but he said, "Just tell me what you want me to do, Ripper."

He heard Rupert approach and then a hand reached over his shoulder and took a can of baked beans out of his hand while Rupert's other hand rested briefly against his shoulder. "You look as if you're about to collapse, Ethan." Rupert's voice sounded softer now, almost regretful. "Go and rest. I'll make us a sandwich or something and boil up a kettle on the primus. Or would you rather have a whisky? I brought along the bottle we were drinking last night."

"I think whisky's more likely to lead to me saying things I shouldn't," Ethan said. He didn't want to go even as far as the bed, so he sat on one of the hard wooden chairs at the dining table and watched as Rupert got the stove started.

"Why do you think there's anything you shouldn't say to me?" Rupert asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. "It's not that I think we know everything there is to know about each other, but you're hardly likely to shock me. And if you mean you'd be frank about my shortcomings, well, you do that when you're sober." He filled the kettle and dropped it on the small blue flames flickering around the gas ring.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one paying attention to this conversation," Ethan said. "Because if I am, that can't bode well. I may be too tired to make sense of any of it." He was sure Rupert had complained about Ethan saying things that made him want to touch him, and weary as he was, he couldn't help but think that in his right mind he'd be trying to work out how to say more of them, rather than less.

There was a pause, and he could've sworn Rupert's lips were moving slightly as if he were replaying the conversation. Then he saw understanding dawn. "Oh. You'd be saying – right." He came and sat opposite Ethan, pulling his chair in and resting his linked hands on the table. "I don't exactly object to you saying things that leave me wanting to – leave me wanting you. It's just when you say them and then point out that if I touch you I could end up flying across the room, I'm left feeling rather... frustrated?" Rupert shrugged, looking more than a little uncomfortable. "Is that more comprehensible?"

It hadn't been incomprehensible before. "That's why I didn't want the whisky," Ethan said, looking at the way Rupert's hands fit together. "You're trying to help me – I'm still not quite sure why – and the last thing a decent person would want is to make things more difficult for you."

"It always used to be your favourite hobby," Rupert said with a reminiscent smile on his face. "And you must be feeling tired if you're happy to describe yourself as a decent person." He lifted his hand to scratch at his chin, where the skin was starting to darken with emergent stubble. "I can think of several excellent reasons why I should be helping you – noble ones, too – but when it all comes down to it, I'm doing it out of selfishness. I don't want you to die, you see. I'd survive, I suppose, but I don't think I'd ever be perfectly happy again."

"I didn't say I was a decent person," Ethan said. He wasn't ready to think of himself that way, and didn't think he ever would be. He didn't want to care what other people thought or wanted; it was so much easier not to. "But I don't want to die."

Rupert's lips twisted in what might have passed for a smile. "Finally, we're in agreement on something." He turned his head. "Kettle's boiling. Sure you want tea, not whisky?"

Ethan nodded, propping his chin on his hand and watching as Rupert made the tea. God, he was so tired. "Thanks," he said, when Rupert set a slightly chipped mug and a sandwich down in front of him.

"Try and eat something," Rupert told him, "but don't feel you have to stay awake on my account. I'm going to just finish off a bit of work on that translation I told you I was doing, and then see what I can come up with in the way of damping down what's happening to you; getting it under control a little. You'll have to tell me what you've already tried, so I don't waste time going over ground you've already covered." He reached across the table and Ethan watched through a haze of tiredness as Rupert's fingers brushed against his, lightly, but not tentatively, testing his reaction. "It's been quite a long time since anything happened; is this – do you think it's helping being here? Or is it too soon to tell?"

"I think I'm too tired to tell," Ethan said. "I don't think it's just the electricity that's the problem – the magic's out of control, and somehow something they did made it so that my system accepts power from places it shouldn't. Maybe." He'd done a lot of thinking about it, but in the end grown unconvinced that knowing what caused the problem would enable him to solve it. Taking a sip of the hot tea, Ethan picked up his sandwich, determined to eat if he could manage it.

"From mundane sources, not just mystical..." Rupert sounded thoughtful as if that had triggered a line of thought, his attention turning inward as though he were scanning a mental index, searching for what he needed. "Yes. There's always some blending of the two of course, but they've made it so that, for you, it's a case of no barriers at all. And I'd imagine it's easier to reach for what's closest, most prevalent, which is why there's a possibility it will help you being here." He took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with some tea. "Tomorrow, when you're rested, perhaps you could try doing a very small spell and see what happens."

Chewing seemed much more difficult than it should have been, but Ethan continued doggedly. "All right," he agreed, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He might have agreed to anything at that point. At least the tea went down easily.

"Ethan?" He glanced up. Rupert was studying him, his forehead creased in a concerned frown. "Why don't you just go to bed?" he suggested. "I think sleeping would do you more good than eating at this point."

"Are you sure?" Ethan shook his head then pushed himself to his feet. "Let's just pretend I didn't say that." He realised he was still wearing his jacket as he went over and sat down on the side of the bed, bending down to untie his shoes.

Rupert appeared in front of him as he was working on a knot that was defeating his fatigue-clumsy fingers, kneeling down and pushing Ethan's hands away, taking over the job of dealing with the shoe laces and tugging off his shoes.

"You'll be more comfortable without your jacket," Rupert said, getting to his feet. "But you'd better keep your shirt on until I get the fire going; it feels damp in here."

Ethan's eyelids were heavy and his muscles ached as he slid his arms out of the jacket and let it drop to the floor beside the bed. He didn't care about his shirt one way or the other. Lying down, he pressed his face into the pillowcase, inhaling Rupert's scent, clean and comforting, and closed his eyes.

He listened as Rupert piled logs into the fireplace and smelled the smoke as the fire was lit. The crackle of the flames and the soft hush as the heat drove the damp from the logs followed him into sleep.

The problem with going to bed before the sun had set was that one tended to wake up in the middle of the night. Ethan found himself stirring from a sleep so deep his dreams had been left behind and feeling an instant of panic because there was someone beside him, which, these days, at least, was unexpected enough to be startling.

"Sorry," Rupert whispered, settling down under the covers. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

Ethan's heart didn't seem willing to be reassured – he could feel it pounding in his chest as he tried to will himself back to a state of calm. He slid a hand toward Rupert unthinkingly, but realised what he was about to do before actually making contact. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"About one," Rupert said, rubbing his hand over his eyes, keeping his voice low. "I've made some progress, but it got to the point where the words stopped making sense and so I gave in." Before Ethan could stop him, Rupert reached out his hand and Ethan felt it warm against his shoulder through the shirt he was wearing. "You're shaking. Are you cold? Ethan?"

He swallowed, finding it difficult to answer. "I must have been dreaming," he lied. He hoped Rupert wouldn't take his hand away.

He didn't. In fact, he shifted closer, rubbing his hand reassuringly down Ethan's arm. From what Ethan could see in the faint light thrown out from the dying fire, Rupert had stripped down to a T shirt and presumably, shorts. "You're awake now," Rupert said. "Do you want anything? Are you hungry?"

Ethan shook his head. He moved a bit closer, studying Rupert's face in the dim light. They were both older, and looked it, but Rupert seemed to be aging particularly well, the lines around his eyes etched there as if by an artist's hand. Ethan knew that he was staring, and that it was possibly something he ought to at least try to stop doing, but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. "Only half awake," he said, by way of an excuse in case one was needed.

"And I feel half asleep," Rupert said with a small chuckle. "If you put us together –" He didn't finish the sentence, and the hand moving slowly against Ethan's arm stilled. In the silence that followed, the catch of Rupert's breath was audible, and this close Ethan could see his eyes darken in what had to be a response to his own expression.

Rupert brought his hand up to cup Ethan's face, sweeping his thumb across Ethan's mouth, the way he always used to just before a kiss; half-question, half command. Ethan remembered halting that soft, insistent touch with a kiss or a sharp nip of his teeth; remembered drawing the thumb into his mouth, licking and sucking on it in a preview of what he would do to Rupert's cock, a minute, an hour later, depending on their mood.

He couldn't ever remember turning his head to avoid it.

He didn't now. Instead, Ethan pressed forward, taking advantage of however long this apparent reprieve would last and kissing Rupert. It was clumsier than he would have liked it to be, but Rupert didn't seem to mind, leaving his hand on the side of Ethan's neck and returning the kiss. It didn't last long, but Ethan was wide-eyed and anxious by the time it ended, meeting Rupert's gaze nervously as he waited for Rupert to say something, to reject or accept him.

"I've been watching you sleep," Rupert murmured, sliding his hand around Ethan's shoulders and bringing them even closer, until every word Rupert said left Ethan's face brushed by an exhaled breath. "Wanting to wake you as glad as I was that you were resting."

He turned his head and kissed Ethan, a slow, still-hesitant kiss that seemed to be as much about reassurance as it was about need because there was still a gap between them, whereas normally they'd have had their hands on each other by now, bodies wound together.

"You should have woken me," Ethan said, not quite daring to touch Rupert, letting the other man lead where this went. There was a tiny voice in his head telling him that if Rupert was in control and something went wrong, it would be Rupert's fault, not his.

Another kiss, careful lips encouraging his own to part so that Rupert could explore his mouth more thoroughly, and Ethan made a small sound, wanting more but not prepared to ask for it in so many words.

"Tell me if this isn't what you want," Rupert said in a voice barely above a whisper, sliding his hand over Ethan's back, the shirt he was wearing a barrier Ethan wished would vanish so that he could feel Rupert's hand against his skin. "Tell me because I don't think this is going to end with a kiss if you don't."

"I don't want it to end at all," Ethan said honestly. "I want this. You. I always have."

Rupert's hand moved down, tugging with an impatience Ethan had to admit he found flattering at Ethan's shirt until he'd freed enough of it to be able to slip his hand underneath it, fingers spread wide against Ethan's back.

"Why did I let you go to sleep with this many clothes on?" Rupert muttered, sounding so annoyed at himself that Ethan couldn't help smiling.

"Because I was half-dead on my feet?" Ethan asked, closing his eyes as Rupert's hand stroked over his bare skin. "I'd be perfectly happy to remedy the problem now, though; just say the word."

"And what would I have to say?" Rupert asked, pulling back just a little, though his hand stayed where it was, exploring Ethan's back, lingering over a scar Ethan had picked up in the Initiative and then moving away. "Would 'Please, Ethan, get naked as quickly as possible' work? Or does that lack a certain finesse?"

Ethan laughed. "When have I ever cared about finesse?" He shifted and yanked his shirt over his head a bit awkwardly, letting it fall where it would before getting up to take off his trousers. "I hope I'm not the only one getting naked," he said, looking at Rupert and the way the man's eyes were watching him as he disrobed.

"There wouldn't be much point in that, now would there?" Rupert replied, sitting up and pulling off his t-shirt. "But you can't expect me not to get a little distracted when you're stripping off a few feet away." He threw back the covers and lifted his hips enough to be able to push down his shorts, leaving him naked before Ethan had finished stepping out of his trousers. As Ethan watched, Rupert stroked his cock, already hard, his strong, elegant fingers touching it lightly, his gaze dropping to Ethan's erection. "As you don't mind me being direct, can I ask you to get back here so I can do this to you?"

"There's nothing I'd like more," Ethan said, sitting down again and stretching out beside Rupert. He was aware that he was older, thinner, but he was vain enough to know that he was still an attractive man, and recent events had proven that others thought so, too. He didn't care to dwell on those nameless, exceedingly forgettable encounters, not now, even if he was hesitant to reach out and touch Rupert.

"Nothing?" Rupert said, turning onto his side and meeting Ethan's eyes. "I think I can change your mind about that..." The teasing smile froze in place as his fingers found Ethan's cock as if all his concentration was on what he was touching. With a slow deliberation that had Ethan gritting his teeth, Rupert slid his fingertips from Ethan's balls to the tip of his cock and then wrapped his hand around with a possessive squeeze, leaning down to kiss Ethan without a hint of his earlier hesitancy.

As much as Ethan wanted to close his eyes, he didn't until the moment Rupert's lips touched his. It was too important that he be able to see who he was with because, truth be told, it was still a bit hard to believe. He pressed into the kiss eagerly, moaning against Rupert's mouth as the man's hand did incredible things to his cock.

He wanted so badly to touch Rupert, too. "Don't want to hurt you," he managed. "Or me. Tell me not to worry?"

"I want your hands on me," Rupert answered, turning his attention to Ethan's neck and sucking hard at it, just under Ethan's ear, biting and licking at the sensitive skin as Ethan shuddered in reaction. "And I'm not worrying about anything but how long you're going to make me wait for that." He ran his thumb over the slick head of Ethan's cock, timing it just as he gave Ethan's neck another kiss, an inch lower. Ethan could feel the jerk of Rupert's cock against his thigh, and he didn't need Rupert's bitten-off gasp to tell him how aroused Rupert was feeling.

Cautiously, Ethan reached out and touched Rupert's bare hip, stroking over the skin there as he relaxed when nothing happened. Well, relaxed as much as it was possible to with Rupert's thumb slicking over the head of his cock and his teeth biting at his throat. Ethan moved his hand down along the front of Rupert's thigh and then lower until he was able to close his grip around the hard, eager cock that he knew so well. "Yes," he murmured, tipping his head back to give Ripper better access.

Rupert whispered Ethan's name against his throat, making it sound like a thank you and then seemed to make a deliberate effort to slow things down, so that the next kiss Ethan got was gentler, if no less arousing, with a warm mouth travelling across his collarbone and then back to his lips. Rupert's tongue slid over his in a leisurely glide, and his hand left Ethan's cock to caress his body, Ethan feeling his skin waken under Rupert's touch.

Ethan moaned again, writhing his body sensuously against Rupert's, gasping when it became clear that Rupert still knew him intimately enough to touch him in ways that made his arousal soar. He bit at Rupert's lower lip, breathing harsh and anxious already despite Rupert's obvious desire to keep things slow. "Don't tease," Ethan begged. He didn't want to be touched gently; he wanted Ripper to fuck him roughly, to roll him over and shove that glorious cock into him without further preamble. "Fuck me."

For a second, he thought that was all it would take to get what he wanted because Rupert tensed, his fingers biting deep into skin he'd been stroking and his face tightening as he stared down at Ethan, clearly tempted by the idea. Then he shook his head. "No. Not tonight."

Dismayed, Ethan blinked up at Rupert. "No?" He tried, rather half-heartedly, to pull away, but Rupert was gripping his hip firmly and it wasn't as if he really wanted to get away. "What was all this about then?"

"Was?" Rupert raised his eyebrows. "It still is. Since when did I need to fuck you to make you come? And even if I had thought ahead and added lube to the shopping trolley – which I didn't – it wouldn't make any difference." The hand on Ethan's hip moved over. "You're not well, Ethan," Rupert murmured, dragging the side of his thumbnail slowly down Ethan's cock. "Why don't you just lie back and let me take care of you?" The wicked gleam in his eyes was at odds with the concern in his voice. "And Ethan? Telling me not to tease you is a waste of time. I like doing it far too much to stop."

Ethan shut his eyes as Rupert's thumb travelled over his balls to the skin just below, the touch light. "I'm certainly well enough to be fucked," he protested, without much hope. He wouldn't complain – at least, not too much – as long as Rupert kept touching him.

"Really?" There was a hint of something a little dark in the single word and it didn't do much to change Ethan's mind about wanting to be fucked. "You sound very sure about that. I won't bother asking how you know."

Ethan felt a hand push his legs apart and Rupert moved to kneel between them, staring down at him, his face unreadable in the fading light. "The last time I did this I was drunk, but I can still remember the sounds you made, how you tasted." He wrapped his hand around Ethan's cock, working it slowly, sliding his other hand over Ethan's belly, scratching at it in teasingly light patterns. "You're not easy to forget, you know."

Spreading his legs a bit more, Ethan reached up for something to hold onto, but there was no headboard of any kind on the bed. He had to settle for shoving his hands beneath the pillow and curling his grip around the top edge of the mattress. "Neither are you," he gasped as Rupert bent down and blew warm air teasingly over his erection, making it ache. "Ripper..."

"You're the only one who calls me that these days," Rupert said, ending his sentence with a slow drag of his tongue across the tip of Ethan's cock, tasting it, making a soft sound deep in his throat. "Do you think I can make you forget how to say it in the next five minutes?"

Ethan shivered with desire and lifted his hips slightly, asking for more. "Please." It wasn't a word he used often, but it was one he was more than willing to speak under these circumstances.

He looked down and got a smile from Rupert that made his breath quicken. Then Rupert's lips parted and he took Ethan in as deeply as he could, sucking hard, his teeth scraping lightly along the sides of Ethan's cock and his tongue swirling around the tip. Ethan had been prepared for everything but this sudden rush of sensation and he moaned, tightening his hold on the mattress.

Rupert lifted his head and grinned. "Three minutes?" he said, sounding just a bit too complacent for Ethan's liking.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Ethan nodded. "Thirty seconds, if you keep on like that," he said shakily. "Ripper, please." He'd beg a great deal more for a continuation of that performance.

He didn't have to. Rupert licked his lips and did it again, the warmth and suction causing a bolt of such pure pleasure to shoot through Ethan that he whimpered, the muscles in his arms straining as he clutched at the mattress. Rupert's teeth caused the most exquisite flares of pain when they scraped over his skin, and Rupert's mouth was hot and wet and perfect...

He could feel Rupert's free hand against his thigh, rubbing at it restlessly as if he was trying to distract himself from what his mouth was doing to Ethan. Which was something Ethan didn't think he could do himself because Rupert had begun to concentrate his attentions on the head of Ethan's cock, opening his mouth just enough to take in the first inch and wrapping his hand around the rest, stripping it with ruthless strokes while his lips and tongue tormented and teased – and then slowly allowing it to slip deeper inside again, where Ethan wanted it to be.

The warmth of it soaked into him through his skin, the heat collecting, expanding into his groin as if Rupert were creating something there, some impossibly brilliant sun waiting to burn Ethan from the inside out. He groaned, the edges of his thumbs rubbing against the rough fabric of the mattress keeping him in the moment as he listened to the sound of his own breathing, and Rupert's, and the faint crackle of the fire dying in the fireplace. He wanted this to erase everything else that had come before, leaving nothing but this moment, the two of them together, Ethan where he belonged. Where he'd always known he'd belonged. He'd despaired of ever being here again, and that realisation eddied over and through him at the same time he came helplessly, hips rocking his cock into Rupert's incomparable mouth as he cried out.

He felt Rupert's lips and mouth tighten around him as he swallowed, the additional stimulus just this side of pain, drawing a final spurt from his cock as his body yielded as it had always done. When Rupert lifted his head, wiping his hand across his mouth unselfconsciously, Ethan could barely manage to return his smile.

Rupert moved up to lie beside him, pulling the covers up over them both, his hand coming to rest over Ethan's rapidly beating heart. "Did that wake you up, or make you ready to sleep again?" he murmured.

Ethan blinked lazily and turned, curling his body sideways against Rupert's so that he could feel Rupert's erection pushing insistently along his hip. "I think I could be persuaded to stay awake a bit longer," he said, lifting his chin and pressing his lips to Rupert's, his hand running across Rupert's chest lightly as he tasted the inside of Rupert's mouth with slow licks of his tongue.

"I don't think it'll be much longer," Rupert said with a soft groan, sliding his fingers through Ethan's hair and bringing their mouths together for another kiss. "And if you need more persuading than 'please', I'll do whatever it takes."

Ethan was, when it came right down to it, too weary to move from where he was. Nor did he want to stop kissing Rupert, not when Rupert's fingers were tangled in his hair and he was in such a perfect position to slide his hand down to grasp the eager erection that awaited him. He stroked it, feeling the way it fit in his palm, the way the slightly flared head rubbed over the ridge just above his ring finger.

"Don't stop," Rupert said, a pleading note in his voice letting Ethan know just how close he must be to coming. "God, just –" His tongue thrust hard into Ethan's mouth, silently urging him on, his hand slipping down to grip the back of Ethan's neck, his thumb making rapid circles against the skin he'd bitten to the point where Ethan was fairly certain – even hoped – that he'd left bruises.

Too sated to do more than what he was already doing, Ethan tightened his grip, squeezing Rupert's foreskin so that it slid back and forth along the shaft. He could smell Rupert's arousal and his own release in the air along with the wood smoke, and the little sounds Rupert was making into his mouth were sweet music. "That's right, Ripper," he whispered. "Show me."

Rupert threw back his head, eyes closed, face contorted, doing just exactly what Ethan had asked, although it was probably more of a response to Ethan's hand than his words. Coming hard with an inarticulate groan, his body shuddering in a pleasure Ethan could feel echoed in his own body, still warmly relaxed and tingling, he looked utterly open and vulnerable.

Which, strangely, made Ethan feel terrible and as always, his response to feeling terrible was to deny that he felt anything at all. He coaxed another trembling groan from Rupert and released his cock, bringing his own hand to his mouth and licking at Rupert's come while meeting the other man's eyes. "Have fun?" he asked mockingly.

Rupert closed his eyes and took a moment to compose himself before answering. "Yes, thank you," he replied finally, giving Ethan a look that was verging on wary. "Let me see," he said, getting out of bed and walking over to his jacket, slung over the back of one of the chairs. He pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from a pocket and used it to wipe himself clean. "This is where you pretend this was about as meaningful as any of your one-night stands, and possibly less, isn't it?" He returned to the bed and lay on his back, not touching Ethan, staring up into the darkness. "I'd forgotten that part, sorry."

"I'm hardly about to change my stripes now," Ethan said, not moving from his position facing Rupert. He wanted to touch Rupert, to run a hand along his skin comfortingly, but he wasn't about to get burned again, not if he could help it.

"Of course not," Rupert said in a level voice. "At this late stage, with death imminent, why should you?" He rolled to his side, giving Ethan nothing to look at but his back. "My apologies for complicating a fairly satisfactory encounter – or am I overstating that too? – with the foolish hope that we were actually making progress." He settled himself into a more comfortable position. "Good night, Ethan."

"Good night, Ripper," Ethan said, in as natural and pleasant a tone as he could manage, closing his eyes and telling himself that it was better this way. The last thing he needed was to get his hopes up that this was something more than a temporary arrangement, that Rupert might actually...

No. It was better this way.