Chapter 1: S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y
John inhaled deeply. The rich aroma of the leather filled his nostrils and stiffened his cock at the same time. He shifted on one foot, adjusting the crotch of his jeans. Dark-haired, sherry-eyed Percy stood before him, wearing his gift: a gorgeous, expensive, black soft-leather jacket.
“You look—very fuckable,” he said, a playful smile turning up one side of his mouth. He grabbed the new jacket in both fists and pulled Percy roughly to him, kissing him hard on the lips. Their stubbly beards rasped against each other for a minute until Percy pulled away.
He gave a low chuckle. “I thought we were going out tonight.”
“We are,” John agreed. “Soon. But first…” He steered his lover into the living room, backing him up until his legs touched the sofa. He gave a quick push and Percy fell backwards, landing heavily on the soft cushions. John pulled his body over top of Percy’s, climbing up him like a lizard climbing a branch. He flicked his tongue out to heighten the effect, teasing the man’s lips with the wet point.
“You just got me dressed, and now what?” Percy laughed, squirming under him.
“Now you can just get undressed.” John tugged at Percy’s button-fly jeans and they popped open, revealing the elastic waistband of his undershorts, then lifted up his white t-shirt and bent his head, planting kisses on the smooth, naked belly. Percy was strangely hairless for a dark-haired man, and the difference from himself turned John on. He pulled at the tight shorts, releasing a growing erection that just begged to be licked. The second his tongue touched down, Percy gasped and brought a hand to the back of John’s head.
“Save some for later,” Percy murmured.
John didn’t reply—his mouth was full. As he sucked hard on the head of his boyfriend’s cock, Percy tilted his pelvis up to meet him. His fingers massaged John’s scalp in encouragement. The full, soft lips were traveling up and down his shaft now, then parting again as Percy’s prick dove to the back of John’s throat. After a few more minutes of sucking and licking, Percy’s gentle grip on John’s head tightened and his body jerked upward in warm release. John swallowed greedily, licked his lips, and looked up. His sky-blue eyes glittered and he grinned. “Now we can go.”
He jumped up, fetched his own jacket from the closet, and pulled it on. Percy struggled up, fastening his jeans, and eyed the slightly older man with a combination of love, lust, and amusement. “You’re really going to wear that?” His chin gestured to John’s jacket which, like his own, was black and leather.
“We’ll look like twins!”
“So everyone at the club will laugh at us.”
“They can just sod off then.”
“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you, darling?” Percy came closer and cupped John’s face in his hand.
John shrugged. “One of the perks of being a lord.”
“I don’t think everyone at the club knows you’re a lord. There might be a few you haven’t told yet.” Leaning in, Percy pecked the perfect cheek.
“What d’you mean? I don’t brag. I’m just honest.” John patted his pockets to make sure he had his wallet, phone, and keys.
“Too honest, some would say. Not me, of course,” Percy hastened to add, seeing the tiny frown forming between his love’s brows. “Anyway, we’d best get going. It’s going to be murder trying to find a cab at this time of night.”
They left the flat, shutting the door behind them. John locked it and returned the keys to his pants, which were still fitting a little uncomfortably. He’d greatly enjoyed pleasuring his man, but he would need his own release before the night was over. In the meantime, he made up his mind to torture himself.
Percy’s tight ass wiggled invitingly as he strode down the hall to the elevator. Once inside, John pushed him up against the glass wall. Percy grabbed John’s crotch through the denim and whistled appreciatively. The door opened and John moved away quickly.
“Hello, you naughty boys! What mischief are you getting up to tonight?”
“You know us, Mrs. Halloran.” Percy threw an arm across John’s shoulders.
“Yes, I do! I hope you can manage to stay out of trouble.” The elderly woman smiled.
“How is Queenie, Mrs. H?” John asked, recalling the last time they’d spoken to their neighbour.
“Much better, thank you. The vet says she should be right as rain in about a week.”
“Well, I’m very glad to hear it.”
The door slid open again and they all stepped out at the ground floor. Mrs. Halloran turned to head down the hallway. “Don’t stay out too late! Even young men need their sleep. Not that you two do much of that. The walls in this place are paper thin, you know!”
John closed his eyes and sighed. “Oh dear God in heaven.”
“Sorry, Mrs. H—we’ll try to be quieter!” Percy shouted as they walked out the front door. He was still giggling by the time they reached the busy corner.
“Have you no shame?” John asked, holding his hand up for a cab.
“Have I no shame? Who was the one who liked the sight of me in leather so much, he had to push me down and molest me?”
“Molest? Is that what you’d call it? Guess I won’t do that again, then.” He smirked as a car slowed down and parked by the kerb in front of them.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it!”
They slid onto the backseat and Percy rested his head on John’s shoulder. John’s hand automatically fell to Percy’s knee.
“Oi! None of that in my cab!” the driver called back.
“Excuse me?” John blushed with anger.
“You heard me.”
“We’re not doing anything.”
“Forget it, John,” Percy whispered, lifting his head.
“No. No, I will not forget it!” John leaned over and kissed Percy’s cheek, and the cab screeched to a stop.
“Right. Get out.”
“I’m taking a picture of your number. You’ll hear about this.” John pulled his phone from his pocket as he followed Percy out of the car.
“I ain’t scared of you, ya fairy.” The man started to drive away just as the door slammed shut.
“Fuck you!” John shouted. “Asshole.” He looked at Percy, who was rolling his eyes. “Sorry, but aren’t you pissed?”
“Yeah, of course. But I’m used to it. And I just want to have a nice time tonight. Come on, let’s grab another one.”
Chapter 2: Cows Get Rained On
In which Lord John gets something he's expecting and something he isn't.
It was raining by the time they reached the club. John paid for the cab and hurried to the door, where Percy was already standing under an awning, trying to protect his new leather.
“Cows get rained on, you know,” John said as he joined him.
“Yeah, but cows don’t have skin like this. This jacket is what a cow would look like after a month at a posh spa.”
The doorman let them in and they headed straight for the bar. Loud dance music was pounding out a steady bass beat that sent vibrations through the floor. It wasn’t John’s preferred genre, but he was determined to have a good time. The couple hadn’t been out dancing in weeks. Percy had been too busy with his job at the embassy, and John had been filling his time with charity work. His inheritance provided him with more than enough to live on, and he hadn’t found a career that suited him yet.
Despite the noise, the bartender somehow understood what they wanted, handing Percy a vodka with cranberry juice and John a beer. They drank quickly, with the desperation of two people trying to capture the promised magic of a Saturday night. When the next song came on, they set down their glasses and Percy dragged John by the hand onto the dance floor, snaking an arm around his back and shuffling in close, grinding his body against John’s and then backing away. He repeated this game several times until John’s long fingers clutched his waist and pulled him in close for a beer-flavoured French kiss. A couple of women dancing beside them whooped and cheered them on. This was a friendly place they’d been coming to for months now, ever since they’d met. Straight, gay, and more adventurous couples could often be seen doing their best impressions of Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing. John wasn’t normally one for public displays, but he was in fine form tonight.
Pulling away as the song ended, Percy let his eyes travel openly from his partner’s chiseled jaw to the sexy tufts of dark hair visible in the open neck of his unbuttoned custom-tailored shirt and down below the designer belt to the swell of his crotch, the soft curve of his scrotum outlined in the slim-fit denims. John saw the look and returned it, writing a love note with his tongue over the pillowy paper of his lower lip. The ache had returned—a dull throbbing as the blood surged to his genitals. He leaned in close to Percy’s ear. “When we get home, dear, I am going to come inside that sweet, tight arse of yours.”
“Why wait?” Percy shouted back. A song he liked had begun to play—something by The Cure—and he was feeling the thrill of a night out with the love of his life—a love who just happened to be the most beautiful person in the entire perspiration-scented room, male or female. John shot him a quizzical eyebrow and he continued. “Let’s go to the lav.”
John’s eyes opened wide, but Percy took his hand and led him down the narrow, sticky stairs to the washrooms. A middle-aged man with hair and lipstick like Robert Smith’s was snogging his girlfriend against the wall across from the men’s room, but he didn’t bother to look as the two men squeezed past. A teenaged boy—definitely underage—shot them a knowing glance as he zipped up his pants and left, leaving them alone with a flickering fluorescent light, a row of dirty urinals, and two stalls with creaky wooden half-doors. Now that they were there, Percy was hesitant. John kicked open both stall doors, one after the other, with the toe of a stylish black ankle boot, wrapped his hand around Percy’s bicep, and hauled him into the farthest stall.
He threw the bolt across and went immediately for Percy’s fly. His grip closed on the cock he almost felt to be an extension of his own as his partner fumbled with his belt buckle. Soon, warm fingers were gliding over John’s hair-streaked abdomen to the treasure below. His jeans and undershorts fell to his knees and he moaned softly as Percy stroked him, molding his rod from clay to steel. Percy closed in for a kiss but John spun him around and bent him over until Percy’s hands were flat against the filthy toilet lid.
“I need you now.”
Percy whimpered in agreement. John yanked his pants down hard, spit into his hand, and rubbed the wetness between Percy’s pale, hairless buttocks. With one finger, then two, he probed his lover’s ass, closing his eyes as his attentions elicited a low groan from the man in front of him.
“Take me, John.”
The lord eased his stiff prick in gently at first, then slammed his way home, gripping Percy’s hips as he drove into him over and over again. He heard a sharp noise like a squeak but it didn’t come from Percy, so he didn’t care. All the delicious frustration of the evening was building inside him, threatening to burst out. Percy thrust backward against him and John felt himself go as the door to the stall beside them creaked. They were too far gone to stop now. John reached forward, helping Percy to his second orgasm of the night, and the tension in his own body released into his lover in a hot, pulsing stream. He leaned against Percy’s back for a moment, resting his flushed cheek on leather, then helped him up. They fiddled with their clothing, replacing it quickly, then kissed. A thump on the dirty floor next to them made them look down. A man’s legs could be seen sticking out from under the short partition between the stalls, a pair of shiny black brogues at the ends.
“Stay here,” John said, opening their door. He looked around the washroom and, seeing no one, rapped gently on the neighbouring stall. “Excuse me, sir. Are you all right?” His only reply was silence. He pushed the door open slowly.
“Oh, Jesus Christ!” the voice behind him cried.
“I told you to stay put!”
“I’m a grown man, for God’s sake, John. What the hell… Is he ill?”
John bent forward to study the man. His face was pressed awkwardly against the base of the toilet and one of his arms was pinned underneath his torso. John felt under his chin for a pulse, and found none. “I think… I think he’s dead. Call an ambulance, Percy.”
Chapter 3: Should You Be Touching That?
John and Percy find themselves in the middle of a crime scene, forced to answer some awkward questions.
“Expensive suit, shoes, and watch. Clean shaven. No visible wounds.” John was poking around in the dead man’s pockets now.
“Should you be touching that?” Percy’s voice quavered slightly.
“I’ll put it back before the police arrive. Besides--” he held his arm out to show Percy his sleeve-covered hand—“I’m not leaving any fingerprints.” He flipped open the wallet with the same hand. A driver’s licence was tucked under a clear plastic window embedded in the inner flap. “Laurence Masters. Sorry about your luck, Larry.” He made a note of the address, then replaced the wallet in the man’s jacket pocket. “Maybe he had a heart attack.”
“Because he was so shocked by our goings-on, you mean?”
“This is no time for jokes, dear.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
They both stepped back as the heavy lavatory door swung open and a middle-aged man and a younger woman, both in ill-fitting suits, strode in.
“DI Jones, and this is Sergeant MacIntosh,” the man said, gesturing to his partner. “You the ones who found the body?”
“Yes, regrettably. Lord John Grey,” John said, holding out his manicured hand. Seeing that Jones had no intention of taking it, he went on. “This is my partner, Persev—Percival Wainwright. We were… availing ourselves of the facilities when we heard a noise and saw the poor man on the floor.”
“Right. Were you both at the urinals?”
“Um, no. In the other stall, actually.” John jutted his chin out in a posture that Percy had seldom seen him use.
“Which one of you was in the stall?” Jones persisted.
MacIntosh cleared her throat. “Sir, I think I hear the ambulance arriving. I can take their initial statements if you’d like to direct the medics in.”
Jones nodded brusquely and hurried off as fast as his sturdy frame would allow.
MacIntosh was an auburn-haired beauty, and nearly as tall as the men. She smiled and looked from one to the other. “I hope you don’t take any offence to this question—I’m just doing my job. Were you both in the same stall at the time you saw the dead man?”
John nodded. Percy shrugged.
“I’m not interested in charging you with anything, although I’m sure you realize that public—well, as I said, I’m not concerned. I only want to know what you were doing, and where, because you seem to have been at the crime scene, or at least next door to it, when the man passed away.” She smiled again. “Did you see or hear anything odd, or were you too occupied to notice?”
“I heard a noise. I guess it must have been the lavatory door opening. Then a little later, I heard a creak, which I recognized as the other stall door, and, not long after that, a kind of a thump as his body hit the floor. I assume.” John reached beside him for Percy’s arm and clasped it tightly.
The sergeant was nodding. “You said ‘a little later’ and ‘not long after that’—can you be any more specific about the time, or the length of time in between noises?”
“I was… I don’t know… A few seconds? Less than a minute between the first two. Maybe a couple of minutes before the last.” His cheeks were aflame from recalling what he and Percy had been doing.
“Thank you. And you, Mr. Wainwright, did you hear the same sounds?”
Now it was Percy’s turn to blush. “Uh, I… didn’t hear… Just the last one. I heard the thump just before we saw the body—his legs.”
She turned back to John, who was wearing a watch. “Do you know what time it was when you came down here, and how much time had passed before you heard the first noise, Lord Grey?”
“John, please. It was half past midnight, 12:35, to be precise, when we came down the stairs. Only a few minutes—maybe five—before I heard the first noise.”
“Great. Did you see anyone on the stairs when you came down, or anyone else in the lav?”
“There was a man and a woman at the bottom of the stairs, and a young man just coming out as we went in.”
“Would you be able to describe these three people?”
“He’s very observant,” Percy chimed in proudly. John gave him a nudge with his elbow.
Jones returned then, holding the door open for the paramedics. “Get their statement, MacIntosh?”
“Yes, sir. The gentlemen have been quite helpful.”
“Can I wash my hands now?” Percy asked with a grimace.
Chapter 4: Can't Sleep Here
John and Percy must go to the police station to help the detectives with their inquiries.
Three hours later, they were about to leave the police station. Percy couldn’t figure out why they’d needed to make “a formal statement at the station” when MacIntosh had already taken their statement, but John had ignored his grumblings and off they’d gone. After retelling their story (minus a few personal details) to a detective constable who had typed it up and had them sign it, the two men had worked with a sketch artist to recreate the likenesses of the people they had seen in and near the loo.
When Percy had told the artist that one of the men had “hair like Robert Smith,” he’d received a confused look in reply.
“Inspector Smith, d’you mean? He doesn’t have much hair.”
“No, I mean the singer from The Cure!”
“The what now?”
Exasperated, Percy had given up, shaking his head, and John had provided a thorough description.
Now it was nearly five a.m., and they were heading out the door. Before he followed Percy down the steps, John turned his head to catch a conversation between Jones and another man.
“Did the pathologist ring yet?” Jones was asking.
“And?” The older man attempted to keep his temper in check.
“And she says it’s murder. Heroin overdose.”
Jones’s eyes flicked toward John as he slipped through the door and pulled it shut behind him.
Out on the street, traffic was light. The waking sun suffused the smoky horizon with a sickly orange glow. Percy grabbed John’s arm and leaned against him. “Fetch a cab, darling. I need my bed.”
“Yes, of course. Soon.” John hooked his arm through Percy’s, but his attention was focused on a building across the street. “Let’s just get a bite to eat first, hmm? I’m ravenous.” He started off across the road, dodging vehicles and pulling his shocked, exhausted boyfriend with him.
They entered the American-style diner and sat across from each other in a grubby booth atop under-stuffed vinyl cushions that leaked foam. Percy tried to make the best of things by guzzling syrupy coffee and perusing the menu for something that might keep him from nodding off.
“What about blueberry pancakes?” He looked at his partner, who was staring into space with glazed eyes. “John?”
“I said, what about blueberry pancakes?”
“Yes. What about them?”
“Would you like some?”
“Oh. I’m not very hungry. But you go ahead.” He appeared to be studying a metal sign with Elvis Presley on it that hung on the wall above the till.
“You said not five minutes ago that you were ravenous.”
“Did I? Oh, yes. Now that you mention it, I am a bit peckish. All right, I will have the pancakes. As long as they’re those fluffy American kind.” He smiled.
“You’re worrying me, John. Is it just sleep deprivation, or is it something else? Did seeing that…body…upset you?” Percy stretched a hand across the table to pat John’s arm.
“After breakfast, I’ll see you home and then I’ll just nip out for a while.”
“John! Tell me what is going on.”
Finally, John faced his lover, with fire in his eyes. “It was murder, Percy. I want to visit the dead man’s address and see what I can see.”
“Oh, no!” Percy rolled his eyes. “Here I was hoping you were just psychologically traumatised. No, John, please! Don’t get obsessed with this. Leave it to the police to solve.”
“More coffee?” The handsome young server asked.
John grinned and held out his mug. “Please. I’m going to need all the caffeine I can get.”
With his semi-photographic memory, he easily recalled the address he’d seen on the victim’s driving license. Once he’d eaten enough doughy morsels to please Percy, John paid the bill and held out his hand. “Up you get! Can’t sleep here.”
Percy had finished a heaping plate of food ten minutes earlier and slumped against the corner of the booth, dozing despite the four cups of coffee. He groaned but rose to his feet, using John’s arm to steady himself.
“You’re not really going there, are you? Won’t the police be all over the place?”
“Most likely. I only want to drive past. Won’t be long. Come on, let’s get a cab and get you home.”
By a quarter to seven, Percy was asleep on his own bed, flopped diagonally across it, still wearing the clothes he’d worn to the club, minus the leather. John spread a blanket over him and crept softly out of the room. Thirty minutes later, his cab was driving down a crowded street in a very unsavoury part of the city.
“There it is,” the driver told him, pointing out the window to a tiny, dilapidated row house. The front door was bright red but its peeling paint created stripes of brown at odd angles. “You want me to stop, guv?” An unmarked police car was parked at the kerb.
“No, thank you. Back to where you picked me up, please.” As the car made a narrow U-turn and retraced its journey along the potholed road, John leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. What were you up to, Larry? he wondered. What was a man with a watch like that doing living in a house like this?
Back home, he tried to focus his mind during the elevator ride up. Could it be as simple as a rich man fallen into hard times because of a drug habit? But no, he looked well kempt, and he would have sold the watch and the clothes for drug money. A poor man who’d only recently made his fortune, selling drugs, perhaps? None of it added up. Maybe Laurence Masters didn’t have a taste for heroin at all, and whoever killed him didn’t much care if foul play would be suspected. To end a man’s life in such a way, with a heroin overdose in a seedy loo, the murderer must have had personal reasons. Or not—was it a cleaner, more professional death than a car accident or a stab wound? Why not just shoot him?
John’s lids felt like lead as the elevator door swooshed open. He stumbled into the flat, threw off his jacket, stripped off his pants and shirt, and crawled into bed next to a warm and gently snoring Percy.
Chapter 5: The Sun
Later that day, John and Percy awake, safe at home.
John awoke to Percy’s touch, a warm hand smoothing lightly over his bare skin, brushing a nipple. A beam of afternoon sunlight had snuck into the room through a gap in the blinds and was highlighting the sleepy face with the parted lips.
“Did I wake you?” Percy murmured, bringing his teeth to nibble on John’s ear.
“Good.” The hand slid down to nestle between John’s thighs, cupping his balls and massaging gently. “Because I’m hungry for brunch.”
Percy shifted down the mattress and before John could formulate a rational thought, a wet mouth closed over his soft cock. With one long suck, it hardened, and John was instantly alert.
“Ugh, don’t, I haven’t even showered since--”
Percy took his mouth away only long enough to assert, “I don’t care.”
He had given himself a quick wash in the loo at the police station the night before, John remembered, and relaxed. He rolled onto his back and tilted his hips for easier access. Percy dragged his tongue from the base of John’s erection to the tip, licking and teasing him until he begged for more.
The next suck was so intense, it bordered on painful. He brought a hand to the dark, curly head and gripped tightly, weaving his fingers into Percy’s hair. After several minutes, he pulled away, and Percy stared up at him. “I want your cock,” John whispered huskily.
His partner’s eyes opened wide. “You want me to fuck you?”
“No, dear. I want you to make love to me.” He held his hand out and pulled Percy up beside him, turning his lover’s face toward his own with his slender fingers. “You know you’re the only man I’ve allowed…inside me…for years.”
Percy’s golden-brown eyes swam. “I know.” He pressed his lips to John’s and they kissed deeply, too much in love to concern themselves with morning breath. Percy broke away finally to scoot to the edge of the bed, pull his rank t-shirt off over his head, and wriggle out of his jeans and underwear. Next, he opened the little drawer of the bedside table and removed a small jar. When he returned, he saw that John had stretched out on his stomach, legs spread, arms folded comfortably under the lofty pillow. There was a drowsy smile on his face and his eyes were closed.
John shivered slightly when Percy’s slick finger touched him, but within seconds, he was melting into the cushy bed, enjoying the feeling as the finger probed deeper and deeper. A second finger joined the first, stretching his desire. By the time Percy’s hardness rubbed against his ass cheeks, he craved the full feeling that only a prick as long as Percy’s could provide. He tried to quell his impatience as soft kisses peppered his muscular back, yet when the other man’s stiffness began to push insistently against his opening, he tensed.
“It’s all right, my love. I won’t hurt you,” Percy cooed, pulling back and dipping back into the jar. He spread the magical stuff liberally onto his cock before reattempting his entry. Very slowly and gradually, he sank into John’s ass. It was a privilege he hadn’t had in weeks, as John usually preferred to be the pitcher rather than the catcher. He only let Percy in when he was feeling particularly secure and relaxed. “Thank you,” Percy said as he started to tenderly move in and out.
“For trusting me.”
“There can be no love without trust, and I love you more than anyone.” John’s voice was muffled by the pillow, but Percy heard every word.
“Anyone?” He was panting now, thrusting harder and faster.
“Yes, anyone. Oh, God, yes…” John reached a hand down between his body and the mattress, closing his fist around his own cock.
“Even more than James Fraser?”
Jamie. The name made John pause for just a second, messing up Percy’s rhythm. They recovered quickly. “I don’t think of him anymore, Perseverance. Only you.”
“You wouldn’t rather he was making love to you right now?” Percy seemed to be turning himself on with his anger and jealousy, with the knowledge that he could possess Lord John Grey like this, and Jamie could not. Would not. He sped up a little more as John pushed back against him.
“No, I wouldn’t.” Would I? John wondered. He had a sudden image of the red-haired Scot, shirtless, chopping wood on his family’s land, sweat dripping in glistening rivulets down his bronzed body, then setting down the axe and picking up a bottle of beer, pouring the ice cold liquid down his throat and wiping his chin with a big, dirty hand.
“I’m sure! I’m…coming…”
The two men came as one, locked together in their desperation: Percy, desperate to evict James Fraser from their lives once and for all, and John, desperate to hold onto what he’d felt for Jamie, even as his love for Percy grew big enough to block out the sun.