The hallway was darkened behind him. Nicodemus could not guess the time. He sat up more, absently wiping perspiration from the back of his neck.
Bel was dressed in a clean shirt and trousers, with suspenders hanging at his thighs. One of his shirt sleeves was rolled up, revealing a sloppily wrapped bandage around his forearm.
“Who bandaged you?” Nicodemus demanded hoarsely, reaching for the cup and finding it filled with water, which he downed. His throat remained dry.
“I did.” Bel put his other hand on the wrapping. “In case you were indisposed when you woke.”
“Hmph.” Nicodemus grumbled to himself, unhappy withsomethingabout this statement, even if he was not sure what. He studied Bel again from crown to toes, looking for a sign of something and not finding it, whatever it was. “Are you well?” he wondered, trying to recall what was bothering him, then pushed himself up to sit fully upright and blinked as he remembered why Bel was bandaged in the first place. “You’re here,” he stated, cursing himself. He tried to focus. “Where are the others?”
Bel did not react to any of Nicodemus’ alarm. “I sent them back to whatever it was they were up to.” He might have been amused to have phrased that in that way, but it didn’t show on his face. All that did slip through his mask was a hint of uncertainty when he paused before going on to say, “I also wrote a note for Holt. But I can throw it out if you wish.”
He had no call to be nervous when Nicodemus was the one who had been waiting. Nicodemus picked at his nightshirt, lifting it to get some air near his skin. He muzzily studied Bel again. Bel was in his stocking feet. His hair sparkled as if it had water in it, possibly from when he’d washed up. Or possibly he’d washed it because it had blood or something worse in the strands.
“Have you eaten?” Nicodemus glanced around the rest of the room, scowling until he saw a familiar tin on a bookshelf.
“Have I eaten?” Bel echoed in apparent disbelief. “You aren’t going to ask what happened?”
Nicodemus stood up on wobbly, uncooperative legs to reach for the tin. He waved a hand dismissively and nearly tumbled to the floor in the process. “The creature is dead or you wouldn’t be here.” Heat curled through his torso. He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, clutching the tin to his chest. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have come. You wouldn’t risk me.”
Bel drew in a breath but said nothing. His eyes, however, were brilliant.
Nicodemus stared back at him. Bel was dressed casually but his hair was neatly tied. He might have shaved; there was not a trace of shadow along his jaw. He looked nearly as scrubbed up as Nicodemus had when he’d left the house to find someone.
He didn’t think Bel had done that for the creature. But the idea made him restless. He reconsidered and decided hewasinterested. “Was it quick?”
He got a glimpse of a brief, satisfied smile. “Yes. It was terribly disappointed. So was I, for different reasons.”
A slow shiver went down Nicodemus’ spine. “Oh?” he asked faintly.
Bel inclined his head. “But I had somewhere to be. Which I was sure to tell it.” He paused, watching Nicodemus closely. “Yeah, I thought that might please you.”
It very much pleased Nicodemus to know that the hideous, merciless creature had suffered in its last moments, tortured by jealousy and envy and the loss of Bel. It deserved more, but it hadn’t expected that. Nicodemus was sure of it, because he was only realizing now how much the thought of losing Bel to someone else would have hurt him.
He considered how long that thing might have been after Bel, or someone like him, and its agonies as Bel had made it clear that it was Nicodemus he was returning to.
Then he smiled. He imagined it was a mean smile, like one of Bel’s.
He had to swallow several times to be able to speak. “I got you a gift as well.” Bel should be courted, but not with horror or bodies. At the moment, that meant more of Nicodemus’ cookies. “Here.” Nicodemus held out the tin.
Bel came forward the few steps necessary to take it, but not any farther. He opened it, raised his eyebrows, and then took one. He ate it slowly, after setting the tin down on the stand by the bed. That put the tin next to several of the items Nicodemus had set out in preparation for his rut; a hand towel, a jar of salve, several tubs of the lubricating concoction, and the clay cock. The rest of it, the extra towels, the canteens, were piled in Nicodemus’ one chair. Bel must have seen it all already. Nicodemus looked away from his rut accoutrements without acknowledging them, or how he might possibly be blushing. If he was, he couldn’t distinguish it from the rest of the heat coursing through him.
Bel finished the cookie, then glanced to the tin as if considering another, which was extraordinarily pleasing. Nicodemus was not sure if one could home-make for a monster. He didn’t think so, not by the rules of most of society. But they were not a part of that society, and in any case, he was Nicodemus the peculiari, who had shaped the Realm. He would do as he pleased. “I can cook you something later, if you like.”
“Can you?” Bel asked with real surprise.
Nicodemus reconsidered. “Probably not,” he answered. “It’s a matter of hours now, possibly less.” He picked at his nightshirt again. “There isn’t much food available here anyway. Although I did mention that Alistair might leave some downstairs for you in the coming days. I am not sure he approved...of this.”
“Not sure I do, either,” Bel said, but raised his hands when Nicodemus turned to him in bewildered hurt. “I said I would, innocent,” Bel went on. “And I will. Butyoushould have doubts.”
“Oh.” Nicodemus sighed in relief. “This again.” He straightened, a little, although he mostly wanted to lie back down and curl around a pillow. But he was notthatinnocent, not about his rut, and he would prove it. “I prepared.” He listed off the items as he gestured to them, the towels and the drinking water to spare trips downstairs. “My lubricating mixture you will recognize,” he added primly. “There will be chafing no matter what I do, but it helps. This is the phallus that—” he was reluctant to say Holt’s name, now, in his bedroom, with Bel here “—can be used when you are tired but I am not. Well, when Iamtired, but not enough to grant me peace. There is a salve for aches as well, you should use some of that if you need to. I also have cleaned myself again.”
He felt reasonable and experienced when he was done, and had no idea why Bel would not come closer. Nicodemus fanned the hem of his nightshirt to cool himself a bit more, and dropped his head to look at his feet, which were bare. He had been walking around barefoot and Alistair had not said anything. Nicodemus was going to catch a cold at this rate, and that would not be pleasant while dealing with everything else.
Which he might have to do alone, no matter what Bel had said earlier.
He peeked upward to find himself still under observation. “That is, if you want this?” he asked, voice low and with a hint of a rasp. “To take your pleasure from me?” Or, no, Bel had said it differently. Nicodemus was to take his pleasure from Bel.
Bel inclined his head. “I was kind of hoping to sleep first, if the matter isn’t urgent. I have had a long few days and it seems I will need my strength.”
