“Oh.” Wesley watched as Sebastian carefully set the ram cufflinks back in their box. “So that’s the only reason you stayed in the lobby to talk to the innkeeper?”
“Yes.” Sebastian’s waistcoat had come off next, and he’d moved on to unbuttoning his dress shirt. The man could shed formal wear faster than anyone else Wesley had known. “Why?”
Because I thought you might not want to talk to me, or even see me tonight.Wesley shook his head instead of saying it. “No reason.”
Sebastian draped his dress shirt over the back of the chair with his jacket and waistcoat and then disappeared into their room’s private bath.
He’d come back. Did that mean he was willing to talk to Wesley about Valemount’s hunt? Or had he returned to argue, or worse, simply grab his clothes and then leave again?
Wesley set his unread book and glasses on the nightstandand turned off the bedside lamp. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the water run in the bathroom sink.
Acutely, painfully aware that he hadn’t the first fucking clue how to navigate an actual relationship.
Sebastian came back out, turning off the last lamp on the dresser and sending the room into darkness. A moment later, the mattress dipped.
And then Sebastian was sliding under the blankets and curling up at Wesley’s side. “I cannot believe we have to go to a fucking fox hunt.”
“I’m sorry.” The words that had been on the tip of his tongue finally spilled from his lips. “Iamsorry, duck. I promised you this wouldn’t happen, but now here we are.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it is. You were at a hunt ball with my entire hunting club—”
“But you didn’t mean for this to happen.” Sebastian rested his head on Wesley’s heart. “Even if you hunt yourself, you would never have purposefully dragged me to one. You are kinder than that.”
Wesley stared into the soft dark, the shapes of the furniture just visible. What on earth did he do with an angel like Sebastian, who thought so incomprehensibly well of him? Where did he get such faith in the goodness of a devil like Wesley—now, of all times? And how could Wesley ever hope to keep him when he couldn’t even keep a promise?
His fingers itched for Sebastian’s skin, more powerful than a cigarette craving, the urge to prove to himself that Sebastian was real, or maybe to say through touch what he could never seem to put into words. He forcedhimself to keep his arm on the bed. He already had Sebastian against him, and he still wanted to touch himmore? For fuck’s sake, how greedy was he?
“I have come to think that kind hearts shouldn’t have to learn to be cruel,” he said, instead of indulging himself. “Not that I expect anyone else on this earth would believe me capable of such a mindset.”
“Because you don’t have enough people who knowyou.” Sebastian made a disgusted noise. “People are fucking terrible sometimes.”
“Christ.” A huffed laugh escaped Wesley. “None of that, you sound too much like me.”
“No, see, we have always been on the same page about this. Why do you think I like animals so much?”
That got another laugh out of Wesley. “Are you saying animals are better than people?”
“Sometimes,” Sebastian said, with feeling. “You will see, when you go home to Crumpet and Flan.”
When Wesley went home, he wanted Sebastian to be with him. He still hadn’t figured out how to broach Sebastian sleeping with him with his staff. But there, in the warm and cozy bed, with Sebastian’s head a perfect weight on his chest, Wesley let himself have one moment of believing that maybe, somehow, it would all work out, that he could have that perfect fantasy of having Sebastian wherever life took them, be it America or Spain or the Caribbean or his own London home. Maybe he could even learn how to have a relationship, how to satisfy his endless craving for touch through affection.
Or maybe Wesley should just admit he was thinking of fairy tales now.
Sebastian tilted his head up, and there was a lightkiss on Wesley’s jaw. “Sorry if you thought I was angry with you. Sometimes I can’t find words in any language, but I wouldn’t give you the icy shoulder.”
A tiny smile softened Wesley’s lips. “Coldshoulder.” And Christ, of course Sebastian wouldn’t have done that. Did Wesley still not knowhimat all, not understand that the soft heart that didn’t want to hurt foxes didn’t want to hurt Wesley either? When was his first instinct going to be to have faith in Sebastian?
The skin of his jaw still tingled with the echo of Sebastian’s lips. Well, he could damn well start now, with the belief that he could admit something deeply vulnerable and trust Sebastian would never laugh at him.
“Sebastian,” he started hesitantly, “may I ask you a fairly embarrassing question?”
Sebastian tilted his head back, so he was looking up at Wesley. “Of course.”
Wesley wet his lips. “How, um. How do you know what to do?”
“When?”
