“Bel!” Elisa called out, younger than everyone but Percy and Billy and so perhaps not as wary of Bel’s reputation as she might have been. Percy was also more inclined to approach Bel. Bel never seemed to mind, which said more than they realized.
Bel turned his attention to Elisa, mask on, all polite, if vague, interest.
Her eyes were glinting with amusement. It made her prettier in a way Nicodemus could not explain. “Did you hear the story of the house that would not be still? How that went down? I know you might have been distracted then.”
If she meant it to be a sly comment, it did not come out that way. Elisa was straightforward about unpleasant things but otherwise sensitive. She was sneakier than most would have suspected, but her jokes were only ever gentle that Nicodemus had witnessed.
“I heard something of it,” Bel offered, apparently ready to listen. “But not the details.”
Nicodemus flipped open his notebook to give himself something to stare at other than Bel’s exposed collarbone or the silky curl at the end of Bel’s hair. The others knew about them, of course. Since they had always known about Nicodemus, he was certain they knew that Bel had been his companion throughout his rut and had kept company with him many nights since; Nicodemus remained as loud as ever, although without his affliction taking over his mind, he didtryto muffle the sounds Bel pulled from him. Bel, of course, never asked him to or even seemed to want him to. Bel liked him loud, moaning or pleading, on the floor looking up at him, or against the door, or squirming beneath him on the bed.
Bel also liked to find him in the kitchen or the basement laboratory and press his thumb to the corner of Nicodemus’ mouth, although he had not bruised it again despite Nicodemus’ hinted requests for him to do so.
Nicodemus could make him do it. He thrilled at the thought, feeling a touch vicious, but knew it was true. Hecouldmake Bel do it. He hadn’t and wasn’t sure why. Fear it might shock the others, perhaps.
Even if Alistair and Donovan had said nothing to anyone else, which they might have, sometimes eyeing Nicodemus warily as if he would spill their secret in retaliation, the others were not unobservant and would definitely notice if Nicodemus had a lip swollen from kisses, or stinging with a cut from a fang. They had surely already seen how Nicodemus had gone from barely being able to look directly at Bel without saying or doing something silly to staring at Bel all the time. More than Nicodemus would like, to be honest, if only because he wasn’t certain if he ought to.
Bel had not stopped watching him, gaze hot enough to leave Nicodemus fumbling and wanting until Bel would find him to take that want away. But no one ever seemed to notice Bel staring, not how Nicodemus did. He didn’t know if Bel hid it from them or if they were simply used to it. As if Bel had watched and wanted Nicodemus for so long that no one thought it remarkable.
No one seemed inclined to speak of it, save Holt, and that only upon his return, in the privacy of his third-floor rooms, to ensure Nicodemus had been well taken care of. It had occurred to Nicodemus then, as it must have occurred to Bel much earlier, that Holt had done his best to make Nicodemus happy, and if he had not held Nicodemus as much as Nicodemus would have liked, or taken tender care of him afterwards, it was because Nicodemus had not asked him to. Or demanded it, as he did with Bel. Nicodemus had not seen to Holt afterward, either, although Holt must have been exhausted.
He'd thought Holt would be relieved Nicodemus had found a replacement, or worried about his choice of Bel. But Holt had taken Nicodemus at his word that the experience had been as healthy and enjoyable as it could have been and that he planned to continue to keep Bel in his bed, and just nodded and said, “That’s settled then,” before clapping Nicodemus on the shoulder.
Nicodemus had no idea what, if anything, Holt had said to Bel.
Hedidknow that Rosa had been sleeping in one of the empty rooms lately, something that made him flush with pride and guilt. He had considered moving bedrooms more than once since that realization. He liked his current room, and it felt presumptuous, daring, to move because he planned to keep letting Bel fuck him, but it also seemed practical if their activities kept Rosa from sleeping.
Nicodemus was ever-pragmatic, as Bel would say.
What Bel would say about the bed situation, however, Nicodemus had no idea. Considering how much Bel had started to touch him even when they weren’t fucking, he suspected Bel would at least enjoy having easier access to him.
In the past week, Nicodemus had missed lying next to Bel and having the weight of Bel’s hand on his hip, and also the way he could turn toward Bel in the dim light of his room and, without a word, Bel would leave the chair to come kiss him.
Nicodemus sighed somewhat forlornly, then frowned to himself at his own foolishness.
Bel quietly commented on the case the others were all discussing. Nicodemus had already filed notes about it in the journals he kept for any future peculiari here to consult, so he didn’t pay much attention to the finer points of their informal review.
In his notebook was a formula, and next to it he had listed several different possibilities for what to add to it. It had occurred to him during his near-week in a lonely bed that he might be able to alter his concoction to give it a nicer flavor, since Bel loved to use his mouth so. But putting in ingredients like sweetener would perhaps make it degrade faster, or develop mold, or change the texture.
He pulled a molasses cookie from his vest pocket and ate it absently as he tried to decide between a specific taste or just a better taste. Bel didn’t care, but Nicodemus did.
Bel did what he pleased, when he pleased, except for with Nicodemus. With Nicodemus, he restrained himself, telling himself it was for Nicodemus’ sake, and perhaps it was. The trait was useful and good when Nicodemus was out of his senses, and annoying in the extreme when Nicodemus was in full command of them.
Nicodemus had given Bel cookies, and coffee with too much sugar, and the softest kisses he knew how to give, but a lubricant that did not taste of medicine would surely also be a suitable courting gift, for the man if not the monster.
He looked over again and found Bel’s gaze on him, full of enough interest and suggestion to make him burn. It had been nearly a week. Bel had no doubt felt much of what Nicodemus had thought of, both in his lonely bed and out of it. Perhaps Bel had thought of it too.
But he would wait for Nicodemus to invite him. Nicodemus stared at him, and then, when his face grew hot in a way that had nothing to do with proximity to the fire, he broke eye contact. He would have preferred Bel to simply take him, rather than wait and wait for Bel to knock on his door. But he should not have had the thought because he was already imagining it, Bel having him in this very room. The others hopefully would take the child away. He didn’t know what to think at the idea of some of them staying to watch. It made him frown but it also made him breathe quicker.
He darted a look up. Bel’s lips were parted. His eyes reflected red-purple flames.
Nicodemus distantly heard the others telling a new story. Something about a stranger peculiari. A rogue, which meant on her own, which always seemed to worry them.
Now that he realized why, Nicodemus tore his gaze away from Bel to glance between the card table and Alistair.
“She’s watching over a whole town,” Percy informed them. “By herself. The town is small and only has one Ring, but still.”
Watching over them to protect them from what? was Nicodemus’ first question, wondering if they were more concerned with State interference or some trouble emerging from the Realm.
