The Stars Over Bittergate Bay

Chapter 17

17

I t started to rain as they trekked back to the house, an almost laughable inconvenience, since they were already soaked to the skin. Sidney had Ginger on her leash, and Jonas’s arm tight around his waist. Sidney was too exhausted to feel much beside the comfort of the warm weight of Jonas, and it was nice that Jonas didn’t seem inclined to let go. When they reached the front door of the cottage, Jonas pushed it open and let Ginger run inside, leash trailing behind her. Mrs. Byrne shrieked with joy from the kitchen. Sidney moved to follow the dog, and Jonas put a hand on his arm.

“Just wait out here a minute,” he said. Father Michaels came into the foyer, followed by Mrs. Byrne, her outfit newly muddy and damp. She thanked Sidney and Jonas a dozen times each, and at some point, Jonas slid the keys to the truck into Father Michaels’ hand.

“We’ll leave you boys to get cleaned up,” Father Michaels said, taking Mrs. Byrne by the elbow and guiding her to the truck.

“That was kind of you,” Sidney smiled. Jonas didn’t smile back.

“I need to tell you something.”

The walk home had been quiet, but Sidney had gotten so used to Jonas’s silences that he’d been lulled into a false sense of security. Water trickled down his spine and Sidney tried not to shiver.

“Okay.”

“My friend was trying to do some incredibly unethical experiments in the caves.” Sidney sighed in relief, almost smiling, which were the wrong things to do. Jonas’s eyes narrowed.

“No.” Sidney tried to explain. “It’s not— That’s bad. Horrible. And I’m sure it put you in a terrible position. But I did figure that out already. Back in the spooky underground death trap.”

“You knew?” Jonas demanded. Sidney frowned.

“Well, the location doesn’t exactly scream ‘this has been peer reviewed,’ does it?”

“But the mushrooms?—”

“You were working with the mushrooms to create a linked communication network between realms,” Sidney said. He’d understood that much, after all. “What was he doing?”

“He was trying to create Mycelian clones. I’ve never been fully sure why.”

“The people? The race?” Sidney asked. Jonas nodded. “Why?” Jonas shrugged, looking miserable. Sidney supposed it was hard to assume good intent, when the man had kept his work a secret from Jonas. “But you stopped him?”

“Or it didn’t work and he gave up.”

“Which was it?” Sidney asked. Did it matter? It seemed like it might. Jonas bit his lip.

“Both. I figured it out and told him it had to end, but he’d already given up. Then he left.” Jonas’s face was lined with worry, and Sidney wondered what had brought about this confession. And supposed he could guess at the nature of their relationship. The research partner slash ‘friend’ and Jonas. The omission was almost telling enough.

“I understand, Sidney. If you don’t want to—” Jonas took a step back, his hand finally dropping away. Sidney caught him by the fingers.

“I want to go inside and take a hot shower. I want to eat lunch with you and talk about your mushrooms and my charts. Whoever that person was, you weren’t him. And you stopped him when you knew.”

“Is that enough?” Jonas asked, sounding hollow. Sidney’s heart broke for him a bit, even as he nodded.

“It is for me.”

Sidney meant it. Jonas stared at him for a long moment, waiting. Waiting for Sidney to call him a monster. To say that he was leaving. Sidney squeezed Jonas’s hand.

“Come on. We need to get out of these clothes.”

The house was uncomfortably cold. They stood in the foyer behind the closed front door and shucked coats and boots. Jonas sighed at the state of the floor where Ginger had left streaked, muddy paw prints. Sidney shivered, his shirt and sweater clinging to his skin. They didn’t speak until Sidney was halfway up the stairs, Jonas several steps behind.

“Use my bathroom. I’ll turn on the steam.”

“You have a steam room?” Sidney asked, miffed that this was the first he was hearing of it.

“Sort of. I installed steam pipes and a valve. The whole bathroom is a steam room, if I want it to be. And judging by the way you’re shaking, you need it.” Sidney made a sound of dissension in the back of his throat, but his clothes were too waterlogged for him to try and argue the point properly.

The bathroom in Jonas’s bedroom was larger than the one in the hall. Emerald tile lined the bottom two thirds of the wall; dark planks of wood along the top reminded Sidney of pictures he’d seen of rainforests. Copper fixtures and the oversized copper tub shone like beams of sunlight coming through a high canopy.

Jonas turned a couple of valves on the far wall. The shower head was wide, big enough for two to stand under, even if one of the two was the size of Jonas Rookwood. Sidney was cold enough that the thought of showering with Jonas was taking a back seat to the way he wanted to be able to feel his fingertips again. Feel them against Jonas’s skin, maybe.

Jonas moved efficiently, perfunctorily, as though this was nothing to him. Which, it didn’t have to be. Sidney knew, now, that there had been others. And that they’d just trekked through the places where Jonas and his ‘friend’ had worked most closely together. Maybe Jonas and his ‘friend’ had done this same thing once. Came back soaking wet from the caves and stood in these very spots. Maybe a dozen times.

Jonas kept his back to Sidney as he pulled his shirt off over his head. Dark lines of ink snaked over his shoulders, stars and plants and lines and curves, tempting Sidney to examine. To touch.

But, suddenly, nothing Sidney and Jonas had done together had context. How had it compared to this ‘friend,’ this ‘partner?’ Had it been more meaningful? Or less?

Sidney was momentarily overwhelmed by the sharp resurgence of embarrassment and doubt. Jonas glanced over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow at Sidney.

“Are you alright?” Jonas asked. Sidney ducked his head and tried to unbutton his shirt with slippery fingers.

“Fine. Sorry.” He didn’t look up again until he’d shrugged out of his shirt, his hands on his belt. Was he fine? Maybe. Jonas was still looking at him, but his mouth was a thin line, brow furrowed. Sidney frowned. “What?”

“How’s your leg?” Jonas’s voice was low and firm. Almost impersonal. Sidney hesitated. “The injury from the merfolk, I mean.”

“I know,” Sidney said, because he had known. “It’s fine. Healed.” Jonas huffed, glancing toward the tub where the copper tubes were beginning to emit a slow line of steam. His huff hadn’t been a happy sound. And Sidney wondered what response he would have preferred. Jonas’s shoulder looked fine. He couldn’t have expected Sidney’s injury to linger much longer than his own.

Jonas turned on the shower, and Sidney unbuckled his belt and pushed his sodden trousers off his legs, holding the corner of the sink so he could step out of them. Jonas was twisting knobs and avoiding Sidney’s gaze like it was his job. Which was frustrating. They couldn’t both be embarrassed. The past was the past. At least, it was for Sidney. Compartmentalized, as best he could. And after the day he’d had, Sidney wasn’t inclined toward any more discomfort. If he wanted to know where he stood with Jonas Rookwood, he was going to have to talk with the man.

Sidney took a breath and then a step forward.

“Jonas.” Jonas looked over at him, expressionless. “What’s wrong?” Jonas’s shoulders hunched, as if Sidney was going to try and push him over.

“What are you still doing here, Sidney?” Jonas asked. Sidney frowned.

“Do you not want me to be here?”

“No.” Jonas shook his head. “No, that’s not what I—” He rolled his lips beneath his teeth, glancing toward the mirror and then quickly back to Sidney. “I mean, what do you want from me? From this place?”

“There isn’t—” Sidney stalled, wishing for better phrasing and then plowed forward because there wasn’t any. “There isn’t anything I want from you. I’m just… well, I’m enjoying myself, I suppose.”

“You nearly died today,” Jonas said.

“But I didn’t.” Sidney shrugged. Jonas dragged a hand over his face and groaned. “You want me to leave?”

“I want you to stay. But I’m not good company.”

“You’re excellent company,” Sidney corrected. “I enjoy talking with you. It’s refreshing to share my work with someone who understands it. My passion for it. Whether or not it’s ‘worthwhile’ or ‘valuable.’” Jonas shook his head and took a half step forward, toward Sidney.

“Your work is valuable because it’s yours. That’s more than enough.”

Sidney bit his lip. Respect was a surprisingly potent aphrodisiac. So was understanding. Sidney didn’t let himself think too hard about either of those things.

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever to me.”

“Nonsense,” Jonas grumbled. His cheeks looked flushed.

“Yours too, then.” Sidney said. “Your work is incredible. You’ve done so much, and I don’t think you should downplay it the way you do.”

“It hasn’t all worked. And you nearly died.”

“Failing isn’t the point. Trying is the point. Learning is the point.”

Jonas kissed him. Grabbed him by the wrists and pulled Sidney close. Sidney melted against the heat of him, the warmth of his skin. Jonas’s hand barely brushed against Sidney’s abdomen before he jerked it away.

“You're freezing! Gods. What are we doing? Get in the tub.”

When Sidney took off his shorts, a shiver of anxiety traveled down his spine and he resolved not to look at Jonas. After what had happened at the cove, it was silly to be nervous about bathing together. It was perfunctory. Not sexual in the slightest.

Thankfully the shower was so gorgeously, perfectly hot, that it was easy to forget to be embarrassed. Sidney groaned as he leaned back under the water, letting the heat thaw him all the way to the bone. He could hear Jonas getting in on the other end of the tub and did badly want to look. Instead, he washed himself, scrubbing away the salt and silt residue from the bay water. When he opened his eyes, Jonas was leaning against the tile, watching.

Sidney had about three and a half seconds to appreciate the sight of Jonas fully nude. He could have been carved out of marble, each firm muscle well-defined, the black ink on his skin could have read like the labels of an anatomy poster. His thighs were thick and Sidney wanted nothing more than to be between them. Touching them. Biting them. He was hard. They were both hard. And Sidney was shaking again, but for an entirely new reason.

Jonas took two steps and slid his arms around Sidney’s waist. Sidney leaned into him and all he could feel was the places where their bodies touched. The soft brush of Jonas’s fingers across the small of Sidney’s back. And the way their mouths fit together.

Jonas’s skin was slick and firm beneath Sidney’s fingers. The muscles in Jonas’s thigh twitched at his touch, and Sidney shifted his weight onto his heel so that he could step back. Get onto his knees. Swallow around that perfect cock.

But Jonas pulled him close and they were kissing again and it was gentle. Tender and slow. Jonas skated his hand over Sidney’s ribs almost reverently, and Sidney was caught off guard, made breathless by the touch.

There had always been a clean line in Sidney’s mind between types of romantic encounters. There was being desperate to have someone physically. The skin crawling ache for sensation, mad with lust. Then the other sort, strictly the purview of fairy tales and romance novels: being held and kissed and caressed like something precious. To be cherished and maybe even loved.

The way Sidney wanted Jonas had become more complex. When they looked at each other, Sidney had the sense that he’d been granted witch sight all over again. His understanding of Jonas, and of himself, was new and shifting. And Sidney was eager to explore it.