pay,” he said, and then kissed him. Usually Percy kissed like it was a fight, like he planned to kiss until he was the last man left standing. But now he was pliant, his mouth soft beneath Kit’s. Kit took the leather cord from Percy’s hair and undid his plait, letting the golden strands spill over the pillow.
Percy poured some oil onto his fingers and stroked himself, then trailed his fingers lower, over his bollocks and then along the crease of his arse. Kit sat up, watching intently as two of Percy’s fingers disappeared inside himself. He put a hand on the inside of Percy’s knee, nudging his legs further apart so Kit could watch better. Percy obligingly tilted his hips up, and Kit heard himself make a punched-out-sounding noise.
When he looked up, he saw that Percy’s eyes were on him, watching Kit watching him. Kit felt his face heat, and saw an answering flush on Percy’s neck and down his pale chest. “Look at you,” he breathed, and had the satisfaction of watching Percy redden to the tips of his ears.
Kit bent down and kissed him. Then he skimmed a hand down Percy’s chest, circling a nipple, palming his erection, before coming to rest on his wrist. He kissed Percy some more, rutting his hardening cock into Percy’s hip, feeling his desperation mount.
“Please, Kit,” Percy breathed.
Kit got to his knees between Percy’s legs and just looked at him for a moment, pale limbs against the expanse of blue silk, bright hair fanned out on the pillow. And the expression on his face was so candid and open that Kit had to look away.
He lined himself up and paused, just letting himself enjoy this feeling of almost breaching Percy, prolonging that moment when need overwhelmed every other sensation. Then he pushed in a little and swore at the grasping heat, watching himself sink in inch by inch.
Percy started to boss him around, because of course he did. “Wait, yes, keep going, right there, do that again.” Kit complied and buried his face in Percy’s shoulder, half laughing and half overcome with the pleasure of it, the joy of it being Percy he was doing this with. He slowed his thrusts and kissed Percy, lazy and slow.
Kit took one of Percy’s legs—the uninjured one—and put it over his shoulder. “This all right?” he asked, turning his head to kiss Percy’s ankle.
“No,” Percy said, his words belied by the fact that they were spoken while he arched up into Kit’s touch. “You’re doing this all wrong.”
Kit stilled. “Oh?”
“You were supposed to make it dirty. I wanted to—God, yes, do that again—desecrate this place. And instead, you’re being lovely.”
Kit looked down at him. “If it makes you feel any better, the bedcovers are going to be ruined.”
Percy snorted. “See, this is what I mean. I’m not supposed to be laughing. You’re so bad at this, it’s quite a—” He broke off when Kit tilted his hips up at a different angle, his words trailing off into a guttural moan. “Quite a disappointment.”
Kit carried on disappointing him until Percy reached down and stroked himself until he came, whispering Kit’s name, digging his fingernails into Kit’s shoulders, and Kit tumbled over the edge after him.
After, they lay side by side, catching their breath.
“If you think,” Kit said, getting out of bed, “that anything we do together could desecrate a single fucking thing, you’re an idiot.” He stepped into his buckskins. “And I don’t think you want to desecrate this place, or your memories of it. You love it. It’s your home, for all I’d like to see it rot. But you aren’t going to use me and make out that what we’re doing, what we are to one another, is something vile.” He dug through his satchel until he came up with a cloth to hand Percy, then turned his back while Percy got dressed.
“I meant,” Percy said, coming up behind him, “that this isn’t something I could have if I were who I thought I was. The Duke of Clare can’t have his—lover, I suppose—in his chambers.” He put a tentative hand on Kit’s shoulder. “As an equal. I wanted to do something he couldn’t. And I meant what I said about you being lovely. You always are.”
Kit turned. Percy’s hair was loose around his shoulders, tangled from Kit’s hands. His lips were kiss swollen, his shirt was wrinkled, his neck was red and rough from Kit’s stubble.
“Percy, I know.” He tucked a strand