Page 10 of A Case of Possession
He took charge then, rocking his hips, thrusting as deep as he dared. Stephen’s hand on his leg was pulsing violently with pleasure at the rough usage as he attempted to keep control of his lips and tongue; then he made an agonised, urgent noise in his throat, his body jerking, the orgasm spangling through his fingers like shards of glass that shot through to Crane’s groin; and Crane let go all restraint and thrust without mercy, feeling Stephen’s strangled cries vibrating over his cock, and came hard, spilling into the back of his lover’s mouth.
Stephen choked for a second, gagged slightly, then swallowed, as Crane flopped bonelessly back on the couch, letting the aftershocks of pleasure ebb away before propping himself up on his elbows to take a look at his lover.
The smaller man was sitting on his heels, licking his lips. He had lines of tiredness round his eyes, and there were a couple of nasty scratches on his face. He was scruffier than usual, in that he looked like he’d slept in his cheap suit, or more accurately, like he had failed to sleep in it. But his tawny eyes had the golden glow that fucking and sucking always gave him, the combination of pleasure and borrowed power, and that foxy smile was twitching at the edge of his agile mouth.
Crane reached out and pulled him over for a kiss.
“Apart from that,” he said, “have you eaten?”
They sat in the kitchen, at the plain wooden table, while Stephen worked his way through a slab of cold chicken pie and Crane kept him company with a glass of wine and a story he didn’t want to tell.
Stephen listened in silence to Rackham’s threats. They didn’t spoil his appetite, but the sparkle went from his eyes, and Crane looked at the lines of exhaustion on his face and felt loathing of Rackham harden in his gut.
“Interesting,” Stephen said at last. “He came to you, not me.”
“You don’t have any money.”
“No, true, but… He’s made himself noticed by the justiciary recently. I’d have thought he might have asked me for an easier ride.”
“And what would you have done if he attempted to blackmail you into dereliction of duty? He’s not a complete idiot, he must know how well you’d take that.”
“Whereas you just gave him five thousand pounds?” enquired Stephen.
“No, but I’m ready to give him something. Money and passage home.”
“Really?” Stephen put his fork down. “Lucien—”
“We’re not alone in this,” Crane said. “He’s also threatening a friend of mine. And a third man killed himself just last week. He might well have been another victim.”
“Was he a friend too?” asked Stephen with quick concern.
“No, a loathsome piece of work, he was no loss. I’m guessing about him, of course, but it seems too much coincidence that another Shanghai man should have chosen this week to kill himself. I was of the opinion that Rackham needed cash urgently to pay someone off—that’s where Merrick is, trying to find out who—but if he’s on the wrong side of your lot, perhaps he’s just gathering funds to make a run for it. Either way, I’m prepared to pay him to leave the country.”
Stephen chewed his last mouthful of pie, frowning a little. “He’s not in that much trouble with us. So perhaps he’s up to something I don’t know about yet.”
“Talking of trouble,” Crane said. “How bad is this for you? Honestly, please.”
Stephen propped his elbows on the table and ran the tines of the fork over his thumb. “Well. The justiciary have no obligation to investigate normal, unskilled crimes, as such.” He tapped the points of the fork thoughtfully. The metal tines peeled apart, like flower petals. “If Rackham reports me to the Council or the justiciary for vice, it would be quite awful and humiliating, but no more than that. There aren’t enough justiciars for them to discard any lightly.” He ran a finger along one of the tines and watched it spiral. “But abusing one’s powers to cover up one’s crimes of any kind is a different matter. If I came to the attention of the police for, you know, what we do—well, I’ve always intended to deal with that situation by, er…” He waved the fork vaguely.
“Abusing your powers?”
“In a controlled way.”
“Naturally,” said Crane dryly. “But is there any reason you couldn’t do that now? Would Rackham be able to tell, or prove, you’d done that?”
Stephen didn’t answer immediately. His attention was apparently fixed on the other three tines of the fork, which were weaving themselves into a plait.
Crane, who hadn’t got rich by jumping in to fill silences, waited.
“If I was on a watch list, it would be difficult,” Stephen said finally. “That is, if one is suspected of warlockry, or abusing one’s powers, one’s partner and colleagues can be tasked to keep an eye out, and to come down hard at any sign of impropriety. When you’re on a watch list, you’re a marked man, and there is no benefit of the doubt. If I was on a watch list, and I had a run-in with the police, I could be in a lot of trouble if I used my powers. And if Ididn’tuse them, I’d be in a lot of trouble too, because I’d be arrested. So, yes, that would be bad.”
“And Rackham could get you put on a watch list?”
Stephen wrapped the thin metal handle slowly round his finger, as if it were paper. “No. No, he couldn’t do that. Not at all. I’ve spoiled your fork.”
“I have more.”
“Rich in forks.” Stephen dropped the coiled metal onto the table. “Let’s talk about this later, Lucien. I want to go to bed.”
