Archive of Our Own

“No. No, absolutely not.” Jerry turns his back to them, his shoulders set in a hard line. He’s fiddling with something on the tea cart against the wall that Alec’s confident has never held tea in its life, or at least not since it entered Jerry’s home. 

“Kid’s got a point,” Lane says, and Alec fights back the urge to bristle at the diminutive. If Lane’s on his side, then he’s on his side, no matter how condescending he can be. “No one would suspect him. You didn’t.” 

Jerry whirls around to face them, lips thin and finger pointed firmly at Lane. “Now listen here—” is as far as he makes it before Lane lets out a chuckle and Alec follows. Jerry’s brow smooths out and he looks heavenward as they have a laugh at his expense. 

“This is a terrible idea,” Jerry continues, which isn’t a no. He sighs, full glass in hand, and walks back over to them. He passes the drink to Alec. Alec isn’t sure what it is, but it’s good. It’s very good. 

“So?” Alec asks, tipping the glass for another sip. He wonders if it’s some sort of gimlet, a new personal favorite that apparently Jerry’s cottoned onto, though this has flavors beyond the lime. It’s more complex than Alec’s used to, and maybe it’s lemon instead of lime, and sugar? It’s sweet, to be sure, and entirely too easy to drink. 

“So,” Jerry echoes. “I guess we’ll start at square one. I’ve got a card in my left pocket. Take it.” 

“Which left pocket?” Alec asks, eyes flicking between Jerry’s trousers and his coat. 

“He’d hardly tell you if you were planning on stealing from him,” Lane says, grinning. 

Point. Alec straightens his shoulders and looks around for somewhere to set his drink down. He’s in the middle of the room, and Jerry’s accommodations are somewhat lacking in furniture such as side tables. 

“No,” Jerry says, “keep it in your hand. You’d have to, at the club.” 

Alec nods, keeping the cold glass in his left hand as he takes a step closer to Jerry. How on earth does anyone do this? Just reach out and slip their hand into someone else’s coat, hoping to chance upon a pocket. Jerry’s watching him, their faces less than half a foot apart, so the game must be to try not to bump anything too obviously, as there’s no element of surprise here.

It’s awkward, trying to reach in with his right hand, but he can hardly trade off the glass now, his hand already underneath Jerry’s lapel. His knuckles brush against Jerry’s chest, warm even through his shirt. He wants to flatten his hand there and let the steady beat of Jerry’s heart calm his nerves. He wishes they were playing an altogether different game.

He keeps his fingers straight and sure, trying to have as light a touch as he possibly can while groping around in another man’s pocket, and he’s so surprised to have guessed correctly that when his fingertips graze paper he nearly gives up all the subterfuge he’s worked so hard for. 

“I can’t— get it out,” Alec admits, unable to slot the card neatly between his first two fingers the way he’s seen Jerry do. 

“Keep trying,” Jerry says, voice low in Alec’s ear. 

Alec nods, determined, and hooks his fingers more firmly into the pocket, Jerry’s jacket moving in an obvious and ominous way. “Drat,” Alec says, pulling his hand back. 

“Not totally useless,” Jerry says, with a kind and teasing smile that does nothing to settle Alec. He wants to show him how useful he can be, has half a mind to. Until Lane snorts in disagreement, and Alec can’t turn to him for fear of what might be showing on his face. 

“You’ll have to rig him up a bell-jacket,” Lane says, slipping into his heavy coat and straightening his hat. “But I’m not going to stand around all night and watch this foolery. Figure out if he can do it or not, then we’ll make a plan to meet Mrs. Turner’s demands.” 

He claps each of them on the shoulder once and then he’s out the door. Alec lets himself sag, taking a big drink of the mystery gin. 

“All right,” Jerry says, “again. Try with your left hand this time.” 

Alec pushes everything he was ever taught about handshakes and not holding a drink in one’s right hand out of his mind and does as directed. It’s easier this way, if he ignores the way Jerry’s watching him like a particularly invested hawk. By the fourth try, he manages to slip the card out of Jerry’s pocket, only to promptly drop it on the floor. He stares down at it morosely, taking a fortifying drink. 

“Come on,” Jerry says, with a nod at the card on the floor. “Again.” 

Alec sighs and picks up the card, feeling Jerry’s eyes on him as he does, before Jerry takes it from him to tuck it neatly away. Alec drops it the next three times in a row, and on the last he refuses to bend down and retrieve it. He ducks his head to Jerry’s shoulder, letting his cheek rest there, drink curled protectively to his own chest. 

He thought they were going to go to dinner, he’s dressed for it, even. He wouldn’t have tried to look so sharp if they were only going to prove Alec’s lack of thievery skills while his stomach growls. 

Jerry laughs, Alec can feel it as well as hear it. “Have you eaten anything today?” 

Alec casts his mind back. Surely at breakfast, but no. No, he hadn’t taken any toast from Mrs. Barzowski this morning, running late as he was to a meeting at a publisher’s office. He’s run all day on tea and, now, gin. “No,” he says, the word muffled by Jerry’s jacket. 

Jerry’s hand smoothes up his spine under his jacket, fingers spread wide, possessive and calming in turns. “I gave you the drink to simulate the pressures you’ll be under to lift at a party,” Jerry admits. “I had no idea it would be so… effective.” 

Alec hums and pushes back into Jerry’s touch. Maybe they don’t have to go to dinner. Maybe Jerry can keep him here instead, or he can keep Jerry here. Either way works for Alec. 

“Let’s get you fed and watered,” Jerry says, as though Alec’s a pet, something to be taken care of. He doesn’t mind it as much as he probably should. “We’ll make a proper thief of you yet,” Jerry jokes, darting in for a quick kiss that’s only kept chaste thanks to the speed with which he pulls away; too quick for Alec to reel him back in and deepen it. 

Jerry holds him down when they fuck that night, after dinner. Hot against Alec’s back and pinning his hands to the bed, their fingers interlaced. 

Alec runs errands early, ducking into a haberdashery last after debating with himself over if it’s worth it. The bag feels hot in his coat pocket all the way home, and he fights the urge to look over his shoulder or slip his hand in to feel it. There’s no way Scotland Yard’s finest can pin him down by what he bought anymore than they’d be able to for complicity in the theft of the late Duchess’s jewels, but he still feels worry prickling at the back of his neck. 

He makes himself finish another illustration in the set he’s been toiling over for the past week, something that requires him to draw adorable animals that he’s to understand will rest above or below a little poem about the pictured creature in an upcoming children’s book. He’s working on a rabbit, trying to get the softness exactly right with light, tapering pencil strokes. Its paws are neatly tucked up underneath its body, ears relaxed and eyes closed, all tidy and safe.

When it’s finished well enough that he can turn it in, Alec lets himself examine the small bag full of his purchase: twelve tiny gold bells. He finds his oldest, most worn coat, one that’s out of style and still a little too big with the weight he’s lost since Cara’s death, despite what he’s added back on thanks to the happiness he’s found with Jerry. It’s painstaking work, affixing the little gold things to the hem, but he’ll make his own bell-jacket, Lane’s jokes aside. 

He’s glad Annabel bullied him into learning how to sew when he set off to live on his own, even if only to temporarily reaffix a button. He’s still awful at it, but the bells seem to be firmly attached enough. He hangs the jacket on his coat rack and tries, time after time, to get into its pockets without setting off the bells. It’s possible he’s even worse at that than he is at the sewing. 

He keeps trying, late into the night, and starts again in the morning. By eleven he’s sitting in his chair, staring at the jacket as if it’s an opponent he’s at war with, when Mrs. Barzowski knocks. 

“Mr. Pyne, sir? I’ve Mr. Crozier for you.” 

Of course Jerry’s calling unannounced. Of course he is. Alec nearly falls off the chair in his hurry to hide the jacket in the wardrobe. He prays the jangling of the bells isn’t loud enough to hear beyond the door. 

“Ah, send him up!” he calls. “Thank you, Mrs. Barzowski.” 

Jerry knocks twice, sharp, and then enters, closing the door swiftly behind him when he sees Alec. Alec is all at once aware of how underdressed he is. Of course he’s worn less around Jerry, but receiving him in such a state isn’t something he makes a practice of. He’s in shirtsleeves and trousers only. His braces are loose, hanging down around his hips, his sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned low. He must look a mess for this early in the day, judging by how Jerry’s eyes are raking over him. 

“Good morning,” Jerry says slowly. “Are you all right?” 

“Fantastic,” Alec says, and distracts him with a kiss. 

It’s not that he can’t tell Jerry what he’s up to, it’s just — he feels so out of his depth here, which is a sensation he’s not unused to with Jerry. For once, he’d like to prove himself on level ground. 

“So you know,” Jerry says, a little while later when his hands are sliding into Alec’s hair as Alec’s mouth slides further down his cock, “this isn’t why I’m here.”

Alec fights his hold to pull off with a nice pop, one that makes Jerry lick his lips, his eyes dark. “That’s nice,” Alec says, grinning up at him before sliding back down, losing some of his earlier nerves to the rhythm of it. To the way Jerry holds onto his hair and thrusts shallowly, gives him a mouthful to moan around before taking it away. Alec hears himself whine and tries to focus. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Jerry asks, holding Alec back. 

“I was hoping you would, maybe after a little whi—?” Alec doesn’t finish the suggestion before Jerry’s on him, bearing him to the ground, both of them laughing. Before the laughter turns to stifled moans. 

Jerry strips Alec’s pants off hastily, reaching down to encircle both their stands with his clever fingers. “Been thinking about this all morning, have you?”

“Yes,” Alec says, pulling Jerry down into a consuming kiss. It’s not a lie, he realizes. He has been thinking about Jerry, after a fashion. Wondering if he could get into his pockets without jingling anything, wondering if that would impress him. Wondering if he could get Jerry to put on the coat, and get him out of his pants without setting off the bells. Or maybe Alec would put on the coat, and he’d have to hold perfectly still while Jerry did whatever he wanted. 

His climax takes him by surprise, and he barely manages to bite Jerry’s clothed shoulder to keep from crying out. Jerry follows him over at that, panting into Alec’s ear, his breath warm and weight comfortable as Alec stares unseeingly up at the crown molding. 

“We have a lunch date,” Jerry groans, but he doesn’t move from where he’s collapsed. Alec’s holding onto him rather tightly, arms looped around his back and one ankle hooked around his calf, which might be part of it. 

“Good heavens,” Alec says. “Is it soon?” 

“We’re probably late already. What a shame.” Jerry pushes himself up, and the smile on his face betrays he’s not upset about it at all. “Time to get up, then.” Alec doesn’t move from his sprawl, blinking innocently up at Jerry. The sun through the skylight is pleasantly warm on his legs. Jerry sighs, shaking his head. “You can’t possibly be comfortable down there.”

Alec shrugs as much as he can, but he holds a hand out for Jerry to haul him upright. “Where are we doing lunch, then?” 

“The same place as our mark, of course. We’ve got to get a feel for him. Or rather, he’s got to get a feel for you.” As Jerry says it, he runs his hand down Alec’s throat, bare and damp with sweat. Alec swallows. 

“I didn’t think you’d want anyone getting a feel for me.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Jerry says, and there’s something rueful about his expression that makes Alec feel markedly better. “But I know who you belong to, and I think you do, too.” 

“I do,” Alec says, meeting him halfway for a kiss. 

The mark, a Mr. Jonathan Carter, son of a surprisingly well-off esquire, is much younger than Alec was expecting. He’s close to Alec’s own age, and the sort of handsome one would find on the stage. Which fits, Alec supposes, as Carter does spend a good deal of time on the stage. He’s soon to embark on a tour of the Continent, his first of any such magnitude, wherein he’ll be peddling his magical wares to the rapt citizens of eight different countries. Before he leaves, though, he has a show at the Egyptian Hall here in London that he’d love to secure Alec’s attendance to.

All of this he shares with Alec while nearly, but never quite, resting a hand low on Alec’s back. What he doesn’t share with Alec is that he’s fleeced the Turners out of thousands of pounds in the last year alone by claiming imaginary expenses and far downplaying the rate theatres are paying him to perform. Mrs. Turner, grown wise, has had enough that she’s willing to hire the Lilywhite Boys to even the score. 

Carter is tall and whip thin, and there’s something about his goatee that’s more than a touch rakish. It reminds Alec a little of Jerry’s beard before he shaved it off following Castle Speight. Carter is loud and gregarious and he insists on teaching Alec a simple sleight of hand trick with a coin. 

Alec doesn’t have to pretend to be bad at it, thankfully; he is without trying. He plays the disappointed role well, he knows, sighing and looking beseechingly up at Carter, and Carter’s smile is a touch too sharp when he orders them another round. 

They’ve been talking for at least an hour, Alec having “accidentally” bumped into Carter as he was about to leave the club. Carter had looked Alec up and down without an ounce of subtlety and immediately shooed off his valet, taking Alec’s elbow and insisting on buying Alec a drink for the disruption. 

“No, really. It’s no bother,” Alec had said, pointedly not pulling away from Carter’s hand. 

“It’s no imposition, really.” Carter continued to lead Alec along. “Alex, you said?” 

Alec didn’t bother correcting him. It might be easier, after all, to hide behind a slightly different mask. He doesn’t feel the need to dredge up Lord Alexander for this, but what’s the harm in going by a different version of the same name? 

After Carter’s procured them a few glasses of champagne each and invited Alec to his show, his valet reappears, a surly look in place that he largely directs at Alec. 

“All right then, no rest for the wicked I suppose,” Carter says with a grin. He flicks his fingers and suddenly there’s a card between them. Alec can just make out, Mr. Jonathan Carter, before Carter tucks the card swiftly into Alec’s breast pocket. He pats it when he’s done, his hand lingering and his smile turning into a smirk. “If you have need of me,” he explains, “don’t hesitate to call.” 

The second he’s disappeared out the door, Jerry’s sliding into the seat next to Alec. He looks grumpy, clutching his own drink rather fiercely, knuckles turning white. “Well?” he asks, his voice gruff. 

Alec brazenly knocks their knees together, smiling at him over the top of his champagne flute. “It went well. No mention of all the benefactors he’s stolen from, but I was hardly expecting any.” 

“I don’t think you’ll have to do any pickpocketing after all. Just keep him flirting and it’ll be distraction enough,” Jerry grumbles. 

“He wasn’t…” Alec trails off, chewing on his lip. He’s not going to lie about it. 

“He touched you,” Jerry says. “In public, no less.” 

“Only once or twice, I promise.” 

“Mr. Jonathan Carter. Illusionist and Prestidigitator Extraordinaire,” Jerry reads off the card that he’s somehow already lifted from Alec’s pocket without his notice. He tucks it into his own, inside pocket for safe keeping. With a significant look at Alec, he says, “For every time that cheap conjurer touched you, I’ll do it threefold.” 

“Maybe I misremembered,” Alec says. Jerry’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Maybe it was more than once or twice.” He barely finishes his glass before Jerry’s shepherding him out of the club and to somewhere decidedly more private. Alec chalks the rest of today up to a stunning lack of productivity.

“Do you know any magic?” Alec asks later, much later. He’s watching his own fingers trace the lines of Jerry’s chest in the late afternoon light. 

“Just what is it you think we’ve been engaged in this last hour?” Jerry asks. 

Alec tips his head back on the pillow to smile cheekily up at him. “Sin, mostly.” 

“Well, yes,” Jerry admits. “Some of that, too. Is this about Carter?” 

“He was trying to teach me a coin trick.” 

“I saw. Were you pretending to be shit at it?” 

Alec feels his face go warm. “Not exactly.” 

“And what, you want to learn how for real?” 

“Not if it’s from him,” Alec says. 

Jerry nods, looking satisfied. “All right then. If I can’t teach you to pickpocket, I’ll teach you to make a coin disappear. Not now, though. Now, we need to plan. You should call on Carter in a day or so. Maybe two.” Alec groans, turning onto his back, already dreading it. Jerry shushes him. “Just be yourself.”

Alec gives him what he hopes is a cutting look. “Be an implacable flirt, you mean.”

“Worked on me didn’t it?” Jerry asks. 

Alec can’t help but smile. “From what I recall, you were rather the pursuer.” 

“Only because I could tell how bad you wanted it,” Jerry says, his arm tightening around Alec’s bare shoulders, pulling him into Jerry’s side. Alec shivers against him, thinking of how badly he did want it. How badly he still does. 

“Yes, because you weren’t interested at all,” Alec says dryly. He pillows his head on Jerry’s shoulder and throws an arm across his broad chest. Jerry hides it well in clothes, but he seems to have kept his army muscles just fine throughout the intervening years.

“Oh, I was completely interested,” Jerry says, his breath brushing Alec’s temple. “I was gone on you almost straight away. A beautiful little lord just waiting to be told what to do, and then you managed to pull the wool over both my and Templeton’s eyes? I was being honest when I said I’d steal anything you’d like. It’s like you were tailor-made for me, love.” 

Alec makes a pleased noise at the endearment, which earns him a kiss on the top of his head. “In any case,” Alec makes himself say, “Carter won’t have the privilege of knowing any of that.” 

“No,” Jerry agrees. “You’ll just have to be your irresistible self, albeit a version with far less… commitments.” At this, he takes Alec’s hand in his, squeezing lightly. 

“I doubt he’ll want me to talk much at all anyway. He hardly did earlier.” 

“Don’t be silly. He’ll want you to tell him how impressive he is.” 

“Is that what all men want?” Alec asks, teasing. He affects a higher register, pushing down his embarrassment at the words. “Oh, Mr. Crozier. I hardly know if I’ll be able to stand after that. How will I manage after you taking me so thoroughly?” 

Jerry growls and Alec finds himself on his back again, Jerry heavy on top of him. “Well I’d hope you’re not saying that to him,” Jerry says to Alec’s collarbone before scraping his teeth along the skin in an indelicate way. Alec groans, clutching at his back. “I’ll give you something to praise me about.” 

He calls on Carter at his townhouse two days later, as directed. He wears his maroon waistcoat, the one that nips him in nicely according to Jerry, accentuating his slim waist with the close cut. Carter is as tall and good-looking as he was at the club, coming to receive Alec almost immediately upon Alec handing over his card to the servant at the door. 

“I’d hoped you’d come today,” Carter says. He taps his temple knowingly, with a private smile for Alec. “Magician’s intuition, wouldn’t you know.” 

Alec bites the inside of his cheek and plays the perfect gentleman. He doesn’t roll his eyes, or say anything about how absurd Carter is, and he’s quite proud of himself. Instead, he forces himself to laugh, as though he’s amused. “Quite so. I’m glad to be welcomed.” 

“I know the fashion is for tea, but might you join me in my study instead? I have the most delicious Armagnac that my brother brought back last he visited our family home.” 

Alec feels trepidation race up his spine. He needs to keep his wits about him, but he has little choice but to follow if he wants to keep up this charade. He keeps a grin on his face that he learned and practiced and perfected thanks to a plethora of balls and comings outs and parties growing up. “Lead the way, old man.” 

“You wouldn’t know it by the name, but my family’s French,” Carter explains, pouring them both a generous portion. It’s a bald-faced lie. Carter’s family is English through and through, according to Lane’s research. “They own an estate in Gascony.” Another lie. The Carter holdings are almost all in Britain, with one outlier in the Caribbean. “It’s sprawling, all lush vineyards and rolling hills. Beautiful.” 

“Sounds it,” Alec says, clinking his glass against Carter’s in a toast. It is good brandy. He can’t help but needle, though. “Do you manage to visit often?” 

Carter freezes for a second, almost imperceptible, but obvious if you know what to look for. Thanks to Jerry, Alec does. 

“Not as such,” Carter says, his voice a lament. “It can be so hard to get to the Continent these days. Please, sit.” 

“Well not for you,” Alec points out, taking a seat. He feigns enthusiasm. “You’ve your tour!”

“Ah yes! Quite right. So kind of you to recall.” Carter smiles at him, but it’s wooden. He remains standing, keeping the physical power of the room for himself. 

Alec shakes his head. “How could I not? It’s so impressive, the reputation you’ve built for yourself. The doors you’ve opened through your—” Alec stops himself from saying tricks. He has a feeling Carter wouldn’t take kindly to the word, especially since Jerry’s been using it so much. “Uncanny abilities.” 

Carter visibly melts, his smile warming. “Thank you for saying so. It’s so hard to make people understand that what I do matters. That it’s worth something.” 

“Of course it is!” Alec raises his glass in a toast and makes sure he only takes a sip. 

“It can be so hard, if you don’t mind me saying so, for men of our age. My father is a remarkable man, of course. He’s managed to make out very well for someone of his standing, far above it in fact. But one craves one’s own distinction, separate from that of...” Carter breaks off in a laugh, looking Alec over. “I’m sure I hardly need to explain this to you, of course.” 

“No?” Alec asks, his gut sinking. 

“If anyone can understand needing to be a man held apart from his father, it would be you, Lord Alexander. Nasty business, all that.” 

“Yes,” Alec says, his throat dry to the point of soreness. They’d assumed Carter would figure out who Alec was, but being faced with the wreckage — the bodies — left in his father’s wake is never pleasant. “Nasty.”

“I understand why you wouldn’t want to carry his name, no need to apologize for that, my dear boy,” Carter says, like they’re not the same age. Like it’s his right to forgive Alec of anything. 

“Thank you, Carter,” Alec makes himself say, looking up at him in the way a dull man might take to be demure. 

Carter is the dullest of men. “I do hope you’ll call me Jonathan, as our acquaintance progresses,” Carter says. Alec merely smiles at him, barely inclining his head in a nod. “I say, there should be more gentlemen like you in the world, Alex. Smartly dressed and clever and so nicely agreeable.” 

He says agreeable the way some men have told Alec he was pretty when what they really meant was easy. Alec grits his teeth into something like a smile and thinks of Jerry, his sure touches and lingering kisses. The way Jerry says he loves him and means it, not as some empty promise to get him into bed. 

“So right, and you as well,” Alec agrees with a smile. 

Carter makes a show of looking at the clock on the mantel. “This might be even more unorthodox than brandy in the afternoon, but would you care to stay for dinner? I have two friends coming over, and I always feel the table is more balanced by an even number. I’d hate to incur bad luck by being odd.” 

Alec swallows a laugh at his own incredulity. Does Carter believe any of the ridiculous superstition he spouts? “I’d be delighted to,” he lies. 

“Splendid!” Carter claps his hands and moves closer to Alec’s chair, all but looming over him. “They won’t be here for another half hour or so. How shall we pass the time?” 

Alec pretends not to take the hint. “Perhaps I could have a tour? From what I’ve seen of the place so far, it’s magnificent.” And I’d like to know where you keep your safe, he doesn’t add. 

Carter is flattered enough to lead Alec throughout the house, following a refreshment of both of their drinks. He lingers overlong in the doorway of his bedchamber, being sure to point out the gauche velvet hangings around the bed. 

“I know they’re a bit old-fashioned, but I find I prefer the doubled sensation of privacy, if you know what I mean.” He winks heavily at Alec, and Alec keeps a smile in place and tries to quell his nausea. 

The safe is in the next room, a spare bedroom converted for storage. There are all sorts of magician’s props, from discarded top hats to silk screens and colorful kerchiefs. The safe is very large, large enough that Alec asks if it’s part of an act, wandering closer so that he can get a good look. 

“Of course not,” Carter says. “What sort of illusion could be demonstrated by safecracking? Do you propose I break myself out of it?” 

Alec thinks of all the clever ways Jerry can crack a safe, and all the other clever uses of his hands. He shrugs, committing the make and details to memory. “I’m not the performer here; I haven’t the faintest.”

“Quite right.” Carter nods. 

Carter’s guests arrive soon after, dressed to the nines and cheery as all get out to see the man. “Alex Pyne!” Carter booms. “Meet my greatest of friends, most illustrious of patrons, the Turners!” 

Alec tries to school back his surprise at Carter’s pronouncement. Standing before him is Mr. Turner, a rather unremarkable man if not for his large mustache, and Mrs. Turner. She’s considerably, but not surprisingly, younger than her husband, and she lights up the room with her smile. She’s also the current employer of Jerry and Lane — and now Alec. 

“Mr. Pyne,” she says, a wide, sparkling grin in place as she offers her hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

Mrs. Turner has the kind of grace and boisterous laugh that can carry a conversation well through dinner. It’s almost impossible to tell she hates the man serving as their host, and even then Alec’s not sure if he’s inventing the sly look in her eye as Carter tells some story or other. She holds herself with such aplomb that Alec feels lifted by it. If she can sit at the dinner table of the man who she recently hired thieves to rob blind, Alec can sit across from her in the employ of said thieves. 

Alec makes his excuses to leave after dinner, sharing his apologies that he’s an awful hand at whist. He’s nearly out of the house when he hears Mrs. Turner call after him. 

She’s followed him down the hallway, and any hope he had that she didn’t know who he was flies out the window when she says, “It is Alec, yes?” Carter had called him Alex all night. Alec can only nod, dumbstruck. She smiles, the cat who got the canary and almost certainly the whole menagerie. 

“A message from our mutual acquaintance, a Mr. Jeremy Brant.” She doesn’t so much as wink when she passes him a folded note, but Alec can see the glint in her eye anyway.

Alec thanks her, his hands shaking, as he hurries out the front door. The note is folded into quarters, and he has no idea where she managed to stash it all evening. 

Come round my place, it reads. You may have to wait. — J

Good, Alec thinks. That’s been his plan since the afternoon anyway, since Carter had called him agreeable. Since Carter had tried more than once to somewhat subtly make advances. Since Carter had looked at him like he was a piece of meat, and Alec had kept a smile on.

Jerry’s housekeeper is familiar with Alec and, blissfully, doesn’t care in the slightest. Alec is given hot water and towels to take up for the basin, and he washes as best he can once he’s out of his clothes, grateful to even splash water onto his face and through his hair. It’s silly, Carter didn’t actually touch him. But he can’t shake the feeling of wanting to divest himself of everything that saw the inside of the man’s house before Jerry comes home. 

It’s how he ends up in the fine, embroidered dressing gown Jerry rarely ever makes use of. The susurrus of flower-embroidered silk skims around his calves, his hair damp and loose. He gathers the sketchpad he keeps in Jerry’s desk and begins work on the next page of his commission: a duck. 

He wakes when the door opens, but he’s still muzzy enough with sleep that once he sees it’s only Jerry he lets his eyes fall shut again. “You got my note, then,” Jerry says softly, and Alec feels a featherlight touch to his head. “Your hair has a bit of a wave to it when it’s not all slicked.”

“Yes, I know,” Alec says into the pillow, and Jerry snorts. 

Jerry takes a step away, and Alec can hear him taking off his coat. “Bad day of it?” 

Alec tries to put the uneasy feeling broiling inside him into words. He turns his mouth from the pillow but doesn’t open his eyes. “Carter… desires me,” Alec says, the words bitter on his tongue. 

“Yes, we suspected as much. Is it really so abhorrent to you?” Jerry asks as he gets onto the bed behind Alec. Alec stays quiet. He needs Jerry to understand that it is, of course it is. He needs Jerry to know how sick he feels.  

“That man, he. He looks at me like I’m— something to be collected.”

“You’re not his to collect, keep reminding yourself of that,” Jerry says firmly, his body warm and solid where he fits himself against Alec’s back, letting his weight rest against Alec’s shoulders when he reaches around to look at the sketchpad discarded on the duvet. “This looks fairly as though it could quack.”  

“I should hope so,” Alec says. “It’d be unsettling if it made some other noise.” 

Jerry laughs, and the room grows somewhat warmer. 

“The safe is in a spare bedroom upstairs,” Alec says. 

“Yes, yes, we’ll get to that. Tell me about you first.” 

“Me?”

“Are you all right?” 

Alec holds onto the arm Jerry has wrapped around him, still in shirtsleeves and all. “I’m yours,” he says. “No one else’s.” 

Jerry drops a kiss to the back of his neck, on the bare skin above the collar of his dressing gown. Alec shivers. “Damn right you are, and nothing Mr. Carter says or does can change that.” 

“I don’t want to sleep with him,” Alec makes himself say. When Jerry doesn’t respond Alec squirms in his hold to roll over, so he can see Jerry’s face. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone, or even flirt with anyone. No one but you.” 

Jerry looks — stunned is perhaps too strong a word, but his voice is soft when he says, “Good.” He runs his fingers around Alec’s face, tracing the shape of his ear before dipping them into the collar of the dressing gown. “Good,” he says again, firmer, and pushes Alec onto his back. 

He pulls at the robe so that it gapes open, billowing loose around Alec’s bare chest. Jerry touches all his exposed skin, and then slides his hands further under the silk without undoing the sash, slow and careful as he runs his palm from Alec’s throat to his waist and back up, from peaked nipple to nipple and around again. 

Alec’s skin heats from the attention, and he wants to undo the knot himself already, be left entirely bare to Jerry’s hands, his eyes. But he waits, trying to breathe steady and not be ashamed of how obvious his arousal is through the silk. 

“You did wonderfully today.” Jerry sits up, his hand heavy on Alec’s sternum, fingers spread wide and keeping him down. The message is clear, and when Jerry takes his hand away to lay a kiss there, and then another to Alec’s throat, he stays still and tips his head back as much as he can to give room. “You are utterly and wholly mine, and I should like to make use of you as I see fit.” 

“Please,” Alec gasps, though Jerry’s hardly asking for permission. 

He slips his fingers into the edges of the dressing gown below the sash and tugs, leaving Alec’s thighs bare, his cockstand already hard and swollen, flushed dark. Jerry ignores it entirely, instead pushing Alec’s legs apart so he can run his hands from the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thighs down to his knees and back. Stroking as one would the flank of a dog or a horse, long even movements of his hands, as though he’s settling Alec. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Alec’s knee, “just lie there for me.” 

Alec isn’t settled in the slightest, holding himself tensely still, trying to do as Jerry’s told him to. He feels like he’s sinking further into the bed somehow, more present now that all his nerves are jangling inside his skin rather than around his mind. Everywhere Jerry touches burns, and everywhere he doesn’t more so. When he scrapes his teeth up the inside of Alec’s left thigh, his lightly stubbled cheek barely rubbing against Alec’s cock, Alec cries out, wordless, his stand jerking and growing wet at the tip. The shine of it is glaring and obvious in the lamplight.

“Good,” Jerry says, his hands cupping the back of Alec’s thighs, lifting them. “Very good,” he continues, dipping his head to mouth at Alec’s balls, then laving the taut skin behind them with his tongue. 

“What are you..?” Alec tries to ask, pushing himself to his elbows and his voice is so breathy, so filled with badly repressed desire that it sounds foreign. 

Jerry lifts his head and fixes Alec with a glare that makes him swallow and lie back down, hands clutching at the sheets. “Good,” he repeats, nipping sharply at Alec’s leg. He goes back to his work, tongue wet and firm as he makes a careful, deliberate progression down to Alec’s ass, holding his legs open as Alec jerks under the sensation. 

“Up,” Jerry says simply, but Alec doesn’t really have to do a thing. Jerry’s already pulling at him, getting Alec’s knees hooked over his shoulders. Alec in flimsy silk that’s left his body exposed, Jerry still dressed between his thighs, his grip punishing as he holds Alec up and open for his mouth. 

And that mouth is just as punishing, relentless as he licks and licks again, following the stunned sounds that Alec is unable to stifle, pointing his tongue to get it — inside. Jerry’s thumbs are going to leave bruises, Alec thinks wildly, his hips jerking, ignorant of his best efforts to hold himself still. Jerry pulls back and Alec whines, dreading an end to this and a reprimand all at once. 

Instead, Jerry brushes a kiss to the underside of his cock. “Touch yourself.” 

Alec is reaching down nearly before Jerry gets his mouth out of the way, and he groans as Jerry’s hands tighten to hold him still. He keeps his strokes slow, how Jerry likes him to do it, but it doesn’t dampen the fire already close to the surface. Despite the bruising grip, Alec’s whole body bucks when Jerry pushes a finger in to join his tongue. 

Another finger and what feels like no time later, Alec shivers, feeling like he’s on the precipice already. As if Jerry can sense it — and he probably can, Alec realizes — he pulls back and says, “Not yet.” 

“Oh god,” Alec says, tossing his head back and groaning. 

Jerry kisses his thigh, and then his cockhead, poking up from Alec’s own hand. “Just a little while longer, I promise.” And then he’s sitting up, carefully placing Alec’s legs on the bed, and then backing up so he’s not touching Alec at all. Alec bites back a whine as he watches Jerry finally disrobe, his hand unmoving on his stand, gripping tight at the base so as not to go off before Jerry lets him.

Jerry slips back between his legs, hovering above Alec on hands and knees. He’s smirking, holding himself there like he’s being careful not to touch. Alec dares to bring his knees in so they box Jerry’s hips. Jerry’s smirk widens into a smile and he lowers himself, kissing Alec’s open mouth. Alec moans, still holding his prick tightly, trying to breathe steady. 

He brushes a kiss against Alec’s cheekbone, just under his eye, before he shuffles back down the bed. Before Alec can wonder what’s going on, or whether or not Jerry’s going to fuck him, Jerry’s pushing two fingers back inside him and saying, “Go on, then.” 

Alec can’t help it, his hand moving almost before he consciously decides to do it. His hips are shifting even as Jerry thrusts his fingers in and out, desperately trying to meet the press of them. Jerry kisses the inside of his knee, and then he’s biting Alec’s thigh, and then again, a trail of sucking bites that are no doubt leaving marks. Alec’s breath catches, and he feels like he can’t get enough air as his head tips back, watching through his lashes as Jerry smiles up at him, his teeth grazing Alec’s flesh as his fingers curl and — 

Alec cries out, his spine bowing, knees spasming against Jerry’s shoulders. He doesn’t manage to catch his spend, and it splatters, hot, against his belly and his wrist and, Alec realizes belatedly, the folds of the dressing gown where it’s still gathered around the sash at his waist. 

It’s only a few glistening, guilty droplets against the black, but the robe can’t have been cheap, it’s silk. Maybe he can buy Jerry a replacement on his monthly allowance, or maybe he’d need to save up a little, but then where would one even purchase something like this without raising a few eyebrows? Maybe he can buy a more traditional dressing gown, surely that would be acceptable. 

“Am I losing my touch?” Jerry asks, and he meets Alec’s confused gaze as he pulls his fingers carefully out, grabbing a damp flannel to wipe off his hand and Alec’s skin. He gets back into bed, pushing Alec down when he tries to sit up, and slowly, still holding Alec’s eyes with his own, licks the spare spots of white marring the fabric. “I don’t care about a couple of stains, and neither should you, after that.” Jerry raises a patient eyebrow. “Or did that not meet your exacting standards, Lord Alexander? Do I need to get you off again before you stop worrying?” 

Alec shivers, thinking about it, and watches Jerry’s eyes darken. “I’m sorry,” he says, “it’s just. It’s a very nice dressing gown.” 

Jerry laughs, but his tone is sober. “And you’re a very nice boy to have in my bed. I value one far more highly than the other, I promise.” 

Even with his release still tingling in his bones, Alec feels restless, knowing Jerry’s still hard. So close and so far. He pushes himself up again, and this time Jerry lets him. “Can I touch you?” Alec is surprised by how breathless he sounds. “I want to touch you.” 

“By all means.” Jerry scoots back toward the footboard to give Alec room, his hard cock bouncing with the movement. Alec scrambles to get his mouth on it and ends up splayed across the bed on his belly. His hands grip Jerry’s thighs to keep himself lifted enough to sink down, taking his cock deep and unable to suppress a moan at the way it fills up his mouth. “God yes,” Jerry says, brushing Alec’s hair away from his face.

It’s like there’s a buzzing inside his skin, and he can’t stop moving his hands, shifting from Jerry’s hips to his thighs to clutching at his free hand resting against the sheets. Jerry turns his hand over, holding onto Alec right back, but it’s still not quite right. Alec tries to get a rhythm going, an easy up and down, but he gets distracted by sucking on the head or trying to tongue along the underside, and then he’ll push back down and let Jerry’s cock rest there on his tongue, pressing just slightly into his throat. 

“Can you hold yourself up for me?” Jerry asks, and it takes a second for Alec to realize he’s being asked something. “Get up on your elbows. Straighten up a little, yes. Open up, there you go.”

It’s easy after that, to simply shut his eyes and moan as Jerry fucks into his mouth. The roll of his hips steady and sure, twitching to get deeper, his fingers petting through Alec’s hair, or firm on the back of his neck. Tracing his lips where Jerry’s cock pushes in and out of them, telling him, “Just like that,” or, “Let me,” or, simply, “Good.” 

Feeling his throat open up around the smooth thickness of Jerry’s cock makes him shiver, even as he settles into it. He has no idea how much later it is by the time Jerry says, “You’re going to swallow for me, all right? All of it now.” Jerry could have been using his mouth for hours or mere minutes, though judging by the ache in his jaw, it’s not the latter. 

He whines and tries to straighten up more from where he’s sprawled between Jerry’s thighs, get his knees under him, but Jerry gentles him with a hand on his shoulder. “Stay there for me,” he says, and Alec nods as much as he can, eager for it when he tastes the first splash of Jerry’s release. 

He swallows and swallows again, mindful of not letting any drip out past the tight suction of his lips, and it’s only when Jerry says, “Shh,” that he realizes he’s been making noise, a desperate, high sound in the back of his throat as he struggles to do as he’s been told. “Did so well for me,” Jerry says, pulling Alec off so he can get them both lying down. 

The pillows are at their feet, but Alec couldn’t possibly care less. He feels boneless, his whole body infused with warmth despite the chill in the air. They should start a fire, he thinks, as Jerry pulls the dressing gown back around him. 

“Are you feeling better?” 

Alex smiles into Jerry’s shoulder. “Much, thank you.” 

“You wore the red one, I see,” Jerry says, eyes flicking to the neatly folded clothes on the room’s single chair. He undoes the loose knot at Alec’s ribs and ties the dressing gown closed again, pulling it tighter than necessary. Spreading his fingers wide around Alec’s waist over the sash he says, “Someday I ought to put you in a corset. Could have one custom made, I know a bloke.” 

Alec’s heart skips a beat, but he keeps his voice steady. “I’m not sure I’d quite fill it out.” 

“I’m not sure I care,” Jerry says airily, and Alec tips his head up for a kiss. “So. You’ve successfully located the safe and ingratiated yourself to our mark. A job very well done so far.” 

“I can’t believe Mrs. Turner was there. She’s…” Alec struggles to think of words to describe the woman, with her warm brown eyes and generous conversational ability, veiling what must be a stunning amount of sharpness and cunning underneath. “Impressive,” he settles on. “I never would have known, if I hadn’t already that is.”

“Most impressive,” Jerry agrees. “She’s a charming creature, if ever there was one.”

Alec feels miffed, ridiculously. Suddenly Jerry’s hand is on his chin, turning his face up. “Nothing like you, to be sure. No one’s as charming as you, my dukeling.”

Alec can feel the flush in his cheeks, but he doesn’t fight back the smile tugging at his lips. “What now?” 

“Do you want to see Carter again before his show?” 

“Only if I must.” 

“Hmm, it’s hard to say. To err on the side of caution, it might be best. Be his friend, and you’ll have every ounce of deniability when he finds his safe empty. I’d rather you meet him somewhere public this time, though.”

“Please,” Alec says fervently. 

“What if you go to the club for drinks? I could probably arrange it so that you’re interrupted, and then you can deny any further invitations as you see fit.” Alec nods, and Jerry stifles a yawn. “How was it besides? Is his house as garish as I imagine?” 

“More so. He did have a rather good Armagnac in his study. You and Mr. Lane should try some when you go.” 

Jerry scoffs. “I bet it’s just average brandy that he paid handsomely for, the idiot.” 

Carter waits less than a day before sending over a request for Alec to visit his house again, which Alec gleefully denies, though he makes sure to exaggerate his apologies on paper. Two days later is an invitation to a show that Alec’s already seen with Jerry, and four days after that is a veritable plea for Alec to have dinner with him at Simpson's Divan.

He counters with an invitation to drinks at the Criterion. It’s nice here, to sit at a table and think of Jerry. He keeps his ankles as far from Carter’s feet as he can, just in case, crossed and tucked under his chair as he leans forward and feigns interest in a long diatribe of how difficult it apparently is to ship magical props across the Channel. 

“I can’t imagine the annoyance,” Alec says kindly, though he has no intention of trying to. He signals the waiter. “Another round, I think?” he asks Carter, turning back to the waiting server without an answer. “Put it on my tab.”  

“Nonsense,” Carter proclaims with a smile. “This’ll be on my dime, just you see.” 

Alec inclines his head. “Thank you, Mr. Carter.” 

“Jonathan, please.” 

Alec merely smiles and moves his glass so it’s easier for the waiter to refill. 

They make it halfway into their fresh glasses when the server comes back, looking alarmed and making a beeline to Alec. “Sir? Apologies, but there’s an urgent message from your brother, the Duke.” 

Alec feigns surprise. “Is everything all right?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything further, my lord. A carriage has been sent, it waits for you outside.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Alec downs the rest of his champagne before reaching across to grasp Carter’s hand. “My brother wouldn’t interrupt unless it was vital.” 

“Of course, of course.” Carter stands when he does, looking uncertain and more than a little annoyed. Alec wonders if it’s because his seduction was interrupted, or that he doesn’t have any title of his own to speak of. “You’ll still be at my show, I trust?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alec says truthfully, given his part to play. 

Lane’s standing near a hired cab on the street, and he smiles broadly when he sees Alec. He opens the door like a footman. “After you, sir.” 

“Shut up,” Alec mutters, but he’s smiling, too. “Good idea, using George.” 

“Did it make him turn purple then?” 

“Not quite, but I’m sure he was on his way. Where’s our destination?” 

“Just a little place, out of the way.” 

“Ah I see. Secluded and quiet?” 

Lane laughs. “I wouldn’t go that far. Your man and Lizzie will meet us there.” 

“Lizzie?” 

“Elizabeth Ashmore,” Lane answers. “Lately Mrs. Turner.”

“Oh!” Alec hadn’t known her full name, as Carter had only introduced her after her husband. He can’t imagine she’d be out this late, or on the side of town they seem to be headed. 

“A bricky girl, our Mrs. Turner. Always been one of a kind.” 

“You two… knew each other? Before the job?” For all that he’s assisting, both Lane and Jerry have been mum on this. 

“As kids,” Lane says. “In another lifetime, for me. Never was anyone like Lizzie, in that scene. I was always surprised she married Turner, but I bet he’s just timid enough for her. Hadn’t seen her in years till she came to me with this whole business.” 

Alec chooses his words carefully. “And I suppose she knew who to come to?” 

Lane shrugs one shoulder, looking out the carriage window. “There’s some that know who I am, or who I used to be.” He looks back at Alec and smiles, shark sharp. “Or who I might be later on.” 

Alec is glad, and not for the first time, that Lane’s on his side. “Duly noted.” 

The bar is, as promised, not remotely quiet, and it’s the kind of revelry that one could never get closer to the kinds of posh crowds at London’s heart. Alec feels buoyed by it, even overdressed as he is. He spots other gentlemen in evening dress at least, and a number of the ladies as well. It’s like a societal party in the country, except everyone seems to be having fun. 

“There they are, come on.” Lane leads his way through to a table in the corner, and Alec’s shoulders relax as soon as he catches Jerry’s eye. 

Mrs. Turner embraces Alec like they’re old friends, flinging her slender arms around his neck before pulling him down to sit beside her, across from Jerry and Lane. “Isn’t this fun?” Her voice is low, so as not to be overheard by any of the neighboring tables. “I feel like a proper swindler.” 

“To be fair, you were swindled first,” Alec says, feeling lost. “Sorry, does Mr. Turner—” 

“I’m free a husband for the evening, don’t worry your pretty head about that,” she rushes to say, but she’s laughing. “I’ve trained him out of concerning himself with my comings and goings. I’m good at it, you know.” 

“Good at what?” 

Her smile is sly, her eyes flitting to Jerry before coming back to rest on Alec. She raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Being a wife.” 

Alec’s breath catches in his throat, nausea building as he tries not to look at Jerry. 

“Oh, darling. Don’t worry about that here, and certainly not with me,” Mrs. Turner says, and she sounds sad, suddenly. Almost contrite. He focuses on the fine lines of her face, thinks of how challenging she’d be to draw, so much life and energy. “You and I, we’ll play our parts well,” she says with quiet confidence, “and you won’t even have to trick your man at all.” 

Alec forces himself to nod, swallowing down the sick feeling. He’s amongst friends. Co-conspirators, even. “I tricked him once,” he admits. 

Mrs. Turner props her chin on her hand, elbow on the table, as unladylike as can be. “How’d that go?” 

“Well,” Alec says carefully. “We’re here now.”  

“He doesn’t hold it against you, I don’t think,” she says, leaning into his side and looking back across the table. Alec watches the other men alongside her. Jerry’s laughing at something Lane has said. His head is thrown back, strong, clean shaven jaw on display. 

He grins wider somehow, when he sees he’s being watched. He winks, and Alec hopes it’s dark enough that his blush isn’t visible. “What are you two talking about?” 

“None of your concern, Mr. Crozier,” Mrs. Turner says primly, but Alec can see the smile dancing around the corners of her purposely downturned mouth.  

“Is that so?” Jerry asks, his smile devilish as he turns his attention to Alec. “Lord Alexander?” 

Alec steels himself and slides his foot under the table so that he can rub his ankle against Jerry’s. Jerry’s eyebrows raise dramatically, and Alec sits up just as straight and proper as Mrs. Turner. “Quite,” he says, put-together as he can manage. He cracks a smile at Lane’s snort. “Should we get down to business, gentlemen? And lady?” 

“First thing’s first,” Mrs. Turner says. “Your man here is quite the actor.”

“Is that so?” Jerry asks. He’s looking at Alec, but Alec’s trying to keep his attention on Mrs. Turner. 

“Yes, he was remarkable. I’d never have known he was part of our game if you hadn’t told me prior.”  

“He’s not shaping up to be too bad, no,” Lane agrees, and Alec glows at the praise. It feels good to help them like this, to play in their world. To prove to them both that he’s worthy of Jerry’s attention.

“Alec will distract Carter, which we could use your help with, Lizzie, if you’re amenable,” Jerry says, and Mrs. Turner nods, an excitable glint in her eye. “And Templeton and I will see to his safe in the meantime.” 

“You’ll not attend the show at all?” Mrs. Turner asks. 

“Not the show, no, but we’ll slip in for the reception after so no one is any the wiser.” 

“We have tickets,” Jerry explains, “and Temp knows a doorman who’ll swear we were there the whole time, if need be.” 

“Owes me a favor,” Lane adds. 

Mrs. Turner laughs. “I’d hate to be him.” 

“What happens after?” Alec asks, and he feels remarkably naive when the whole table turns their eyes to him in confusion. “After you relieve Mr. Carter of his, er, worldly goods?” 

“We’ll lighten his load, and we’ll fence it,” Jerry says.

“I know that,” Alec protests. “I mean directly after. You’ll just pop into the reception?” 

“Of course. May even congratulate the good magician on his show,” Lane says with a grin. 

“We’ll leave as soon as we can,” Jerry reassures Alec, and Alec’s so glad Jerry knows what he needs to hear even when he doesn’t know what to ask. “All of us. We’ll get you out of there before you die of boredom at Carter’s side.” 

Alec nods, relieved, and sinks back into his chair. Jerry holds his eye for another long moment before looking at Mrs. Turner as she speaks. 

“I’ll mention to Charles that I’m feeling tired, it’ll be a breeze.” 

“Right,” Lane says. “And after we fence the lot, we split it twenty-eighty, because Lizzie—”

“Refuses to hear otherwise!” Mrs. Turner interrupts, and Lane holds his hands up in defeat. “You’re lucky you’re getting me to take anything, Lord knows we don’t need the money back, it’s merely the principle of the thing. Besides, there’s three of you and only one of me.” 

“Oh, I don’t think…” Alec trails off, not sure what he was going to say. 

“Surely you’ll receive— he will, won’t he? Don’t say you’re not paying him for this. He’s doing just as much as the both of you.” Mrs. Turner’s voice is fierce, protective, and Alec feels his cheeks burning. 

He doesn’t dare look at Jerry, staring at the edge of the table as he says, “Thank you, Mrs. Turner, but it’s not as though I need the money, either. It’d be silly for me to take any of it.” 

“Of course you’re taking some of it,” Lane booms. “Have you been under the impression we wouldn’t pay you out in kind?” Lane slaps Jerry’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “What have you been telling him?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything of the sort,” Jerry says, soft and even, the way he sounds when he’s at least slightly displeased. “Alec, will you look at me?”

“I’m sorry,” Alec says, risking a glance up.

Jerry looks confused more than anything else, not angry. “Don’t be. I’m sorry. I assumed you knew you were getting a cut.”

“I really don’t need one.” Alec doesn’t, not at all. Not with his proper allowance restored by George, and with the illustrative work that’s started to come in steadier.  

“You’re getting some part of this,” Lane argues. “I don’t care if this one buys you a fancy new suit or something instead,” he says, hooking a thumb at Jerry, “but you’re not walking away with nothing, Pyne.” 

Alec nods, swallowing. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank a man for paying you for hard work,” Jerry says, though his smile softens it somewhat. “Know your worth. I promise it’s a great deal more than we’ll all be getting.” 

Alec doesn’t try to fight the smile, especially not when Jerry’s ankle presses firmer against his. 

“Right,” Mrs. Turner says. “Now that it’s sorted, I am feeling tired, as it turns out, and our dear Mr. Pyne looks it as well. Ferry us home, gentlemen?” 

When they’re safely ensconced in the warmth of Jerry’s rooms, he takes Alec’s hands in his, before either of them have even had a chance to shed their coats. “Did you really think we didn’t mean to pay you?” 

“It’s not like that,” Alec says, searching for the words. Jerry waits patiently, stroking the slowly warming skin of Alec’s hand with his thumb. “I’m helping you out, that’s all.” 

“It’s a job,” Jerry says firmly. “Everyone gets paid on a job, far as I’m concerned.” 

Alec nods. “I understand why you’d see it from that perspective,” he says carefully, “but I—” 

“No buts. I will see you paid for your contribution. You’re the one that has to spend time with that despicable man, after all.” 

Alec considers. “Fine, I’ll accept that.” He looks from their hands to Jerry’s face and back again. “I’d do it regardless, though. To help you.” 

“I know you would,” Jerry says softly. “But I’m not asking you to.”

Alec sighs. “So are you going to get me a suit, like Mr. Lane said?” 

“Or a corset,” Jerry offers with a wicked grin. Alec feels his face flush, amazed he can still be thrown by Jerry after all these months. Jerry uses their joined hands to tip Alec’s chin, kissing him firmly. “Would you rather that?” 

“A corset?” Alec asks, forcing the words out past his shame. 

“To receive your share in a… less traditional way.” 

“Oh,” Alec says. He hadn’t really thought about it. “Yes. Yes, I think I would. Is that all right?” 

“It’s perfect, though I will have to come up with something now.” 

“Best of luck.” Alec leans forward for another kiss, followed by another. “Are we going to stand here all night?” 

“Cheeky,” Jerry says, a hot look in his eyes. “Did you know that you look stupidly good in tails?” 

“Is it the duck again?” 

Alec starts at Jerry’s voice, looking toward the bed where he’s pushed himself up on his elbows, watching Alec. Alec’s curled up in the small window seat, the glass cold against his back through Jerry’s silk dressing gown. He woke up before Jerry for once, starting a fire before picking up his sketchpad. 

“No,” he says. “No, not the duck.” 

Jerry stands and stretches before padding over to him, barefoot, nude, and curious. “What’s gotten you out of bed, then? Let’s have it.” 

Alec turns it toward him, trying not to notice Jerry’s morning arousal. Jerry takes the pad and studies it for a moment, his eyes tracing where Alec’s pencil has been. 

“Oh,” he says softly. He sets the open sketchpad down, his own sleeping face carefully preserved on the page, and reaches out a hand to pull Alec to his feet. He’s smiling as he says, “Can I interest you in a lie-in? I promise not to let you get much rest.” 

“Well in that case,” Alec agrees, heat pooling in his belly. 

“Come here.” Jerry sits on the bed and tugs Alec down, leaving him to either fall face first or scramble onto Jerry’s lap. He settles with his knees on either side of him, hands tight on his shoulders to maintain his balance. Jerry arches a brow at Alec, his hands on the neat bow of the robe’s sash.

“Please,” Alec says, his voice rough. He’s practically as bare as Jerry already, and he rocks his hips down to feel the way Jerry responds with fervor, nearly unseating him. He shoves the dressing gown off Alec’s shoulders, leaning forward to nip at the skin stretched taut over his collarbone. 

His hand trails down, dipping between Alec’s cheeks. With his other hand, he gestures between them, and to Alec hovering over him. “Like this?” 

Alec kisses him. “Anywhere. Anywhere, you know that.” 

“I do,” Jerry says, and he leans sideways to grab the oil, Alec barely hanging onto his shoulders so he doesn’t go sprawling onto the floor. 

He laughs as Jerry rights them, and goes to his knees when Jerry slaps lightly at the back of his thighs. It’s strange, to be this much taller than Jerry, to look down at him while he pets at Alec before pushing a slicked finger inside. Alec shudders and moans, trying to rock back for more. 

“Hang on,” Jerry directs, his free hand clamping onto Alec’s hip to keep him in place. He takes his time opening Alec up, so that Alec is all but shaking above him, clutching his shoulders and gasping against his temple. By the time Jerry slips his fingers free to replace them with his cock, Alec feels like he’s been waiting for hours. Jerry grips his hips and moves him where he wants, keeping Alec there while he thrusts up into him. 

It reminds Alec of Jerry holding him still so he could fuck into his mouth, and he curls over Jerry to hide his face in his neck, trying to keep himself quiet as he’s pulled down and back up, the drag of Jerry’s cock so perfect that he feels wild with it. 

Jerry stops abruptly, threading a hand into Alec’s hair to kiss him. “Go on,” he says, “take what you need.” 

It takes Alec a moment to grasp what he means, what he expects Alec to do. He pushes himself down experimentally, so that Jerry’s buried in him to the root, and then slowly rises back up. He can already tell his thighs will be burning afterward, but it’s worth it for the way Jerry’s watching him, like he’s mesmerized. His dark eyes trail so heavily over Alec’s body that he’d swear he can feel it like a physical touch. 

“That’s it,” Jerry groans, as Alec struggles to find a rhythm. His hands flex on Jerry’s shoulders and he shifts his weight, careful not to rise too far on his knees so that Jerry slides free. There’s something novel in this, controlling the pace of their lovemaking, and the angle, even the depth, of Jerry’s cock inside him. Alec has trusted this to Jerry so far, and happily. 

Before him, all Alec’s experience was in back alleys and dark corners, fast and furtive and hidden away from the world. Jerry’s dragged him, his pleasure and his joy, out and into the light. Alec hired the Lilywhite Boys to steal from his father, but he sometimes thinks he was kept locked up in some safe, too. His true self maybe, or at least his happiness, just waiting for Jerry to crack the code and open the door. 

Jerry releases his hips to brush a hand over Alec’s cheek, tilting his face up to meet Jerry’s eyes. “How does it feel?”

Alec kisses him, trying to convey the bright, open feeling inside his chest with the press of his tongue. Jerry responds in kind, moaning into his mouth and gripping his hips again so he can thrust up to meet Alec’s own movements. It feels so good that Alec has to tear his mouth away, leaning his forehead against Jerry’s to try to breathe. 

“All right?” Jerry asks, and Alec barely manages a nod before Jerry’s moving his hips again, Alec rocking down to meet him, wrapping his hand around his own cock. Jerry kisses his neck, his ear, saying lowly, “I want to see you come.” 

And Alec can do that for him, easy as anything, with Jerry firm and solid under him, his words in his ear. Alec gasps and bites his lip to keep from crying out, his whole body going tight with pleasure. Jerry follows him, his hands tight and grounding on Alec’s skin. 

They stay like that for a few, long moments afterward, Alec curled over him, face hidden in his neck, as Jerry presses kisses into his hair. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he says, so quietly that Alec can pretend not to have heard him.  

There’s an envelope waiting on his desk when Alec gets back to his rooms. It reads “Alex” in large, looping script over the front, and bears an ornate wax seal with what appears to be a skull, some kind of large bird, and the letter C packed into the small space. Alec resists rolling his eyes when he breaks it. A single ticket to Carter’s show is tucked inside. When Alec tips out the ticket, which grants him a prestigious seat in a private box and invites him to the smaller reception afterward, a note slips out, too. 

In the same overly loopy handwriting, Carter has written, I look forward to discussing any notes you have on my performance following the reception.

He drops the note as if it burns, his lip curling in disgust. Alec can’t wait to put all of this behind him, and especially Carter himself. 

He brings the note along when he meets Jerry for dinner the next evening. Lane is supposed to dine with them, but he must be running late. Jerry seems unbothered so Alec pushes down the prickle of worry and hands over the paper, neatly folded from being tucked in his pocket. 

Jerry snorts. “He couldn’t have been more blatant in his intentions unless he spelled out his desire to fuck you.” 

Alec looks nervously around them, but no one seems to have overheard. Jerry moves to hand it back, but Alec shakes his head. “Keep it, please. It makes me sick to look at it.” 

Jerry’s expression softens. “You’re almost through, I promise. And if you need—” 

“I’m fine,” Alec says. “I’ll be fine.” 

Jerry frowns and opens his mouth, presumably to argue, when something else catches his eye. “Lane’s here. Finally.” He is indeed, bustling toward them at a pace that the waitstaff clearly find ungentlemanly. 

“We have to pull you out,” Lane says to Alec, before he’s even collapsed into the empty seat at the table. 

“What are you on about?” Jerry demands, after Lane’s put in his order and has a full glass of port in front of him. 

“Exactly what you will be when I tell you what I just learned. Our illustrious Mr. Carter was the chief suspect in the suspicious death of his last, ah. Paramour.” 

Alec feels queasy. “How suspicious?” 

“Almost assuredly murder,” Lane answers, looking grim. “Found out the bloke was stepping out on him.”

“Christ,” Jerry says, “well that’s that then.” He throws his napkin on the table. “How do we play this?” 

Alec swallows and forces himself to say, “The same.” 

Lane looks at him with disbelief, Jerry with anger. “You can’t be serious,” Jerry says.

“Hear me out.” Alec prays his voice isn’t trembling the way he can feel his hands doing. He folds them in his lap, hidden under the table. “He’ll be on stage for most of it, I’ll barely be alone with him at all. Plus,” he laughs, breathlessly and without humor, “I’m hardly his paramour, right? He’d have no reason to get violent.” 

“Yeah,” Jerry says, voice dry, “until he finds out you’re working to steal from him.”

“I’m not, though,” Alec points out. “I’ll have every ounce of deniability, like you said.” 

Jerry grits his teeth, and Lane laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got a good one here,” he tells Jerry, grinning proudly at Alec. 

“Smart as a whip,” Jerry agrees. He doesn’t sound overly happy about it. 

“Fair’s fair, three way split and all,” Lane says. “I say it’s your call, Pyne. If you don’t want to do it, we find another way. No harm, no foul.” 

“I want to do it,” Alec says, and he tells himself it’s the truth. It mostly is. It can be. He wants this finished with already, and he’s their best lead in on Carter. He can do this. He won’t let them down again. 

Their walk back to Mincing Lane is mostly silent, and Alec prays it’s a companionable silence, though he can tell Jerry is still angry. He points out a nightjar hiding in a frosted birch tree on the way, but Jerry only nods. Alec huddles further into his scarf, grateful his coat is thick enough to keep most of the cold out. 

“Will you come up?” 

“Are you offering a nightcap?” Jerry says with something approaching his normal, devilish smirk.

Alec pretends to be brave. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Lead the way.” 

Alec just manages to lock his door and turn around before Jerry pushes him against it, kissing him hard and fast. His mouth is like a brand, burning away Alec’s uncertainty. 

“The show is tomorrow,” Alec gasps, reluctantly pulling away. “We can’t risk upsetting Carter, or throwing off his routine.” 

“I know,” Jerry says, and kisses him again. 

Alec pushes him back by an inch. “You do?” 

Jerry sighs. “Do you want to hear me tell you that you’re right?” 

“Well,” Alec says, “not exactly.” 

“You are, of course you are.” Jerry kisses him again, cradling Alec’s face in his hands. “But it doesn’t give me any great pleasure to send you to him.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Alec says, and he believes it even less than he did at the restaurant. He wraps his fingers around Jerry’s wrists, and he can see that his hands are shaking. 

“I’ll follow your lead on this.” 

Alec nods once, sharply. “I want to show you something.” At Jerry’s raised eyebrows, Alec shoves him away a little, smiling. “Not that, you fiend. At least not for now.” 

He leaves Jerry by the door and fetches the bell-jacket. He holds it up for perusal, fighting a blush. 

“You’ve been practicing,“ Jerry says, running his hands lightly across the bells hanging from the hem. They jingle merrily. 

Alec puts the jacket away. “I have.” 

Jerry smiles and slips his hand into his inner breast pocket, flashing Carter’s folded note before tucking it away again. He closes his eyes and spreads his arms magnanimously. “All right.” 

It takes Alec four tries to slip it free without marked notice, without Jerry smirking and opening his eyes. On the fourth, when the paper is carefully suspended between Alec’s first two fingers, Jerry opens his eyes and winks. “I hate to say it, but you’ve improved.” 

“You’re angry?” 

Jerry catches his elbows. “Not that you’ve gotten better. But you shouldn’t have need to steal. Let me do all of that for you.”  

“I can take care of myself.” Alec had been for years, after all, before Jerry came along. 

“I know you can,” Jerry says, and kisses him. “And I adore that about you. But I wouldn’t mind helping out in that matter. In all matters you require, really.”  

“Oh?” Alec asks, feigning innocence. He widens his eyes at Jerry for good measure, blinking slowly. 

“You’re a minx,” Jerry says. His kiss is searing, his hands already working at the buttons of Alec’s waistcoat. “Don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger,” he warns, but the words are muffled with Alec’s tongue on his. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I won’t think you’re a coward, and neither will Temp.” 

“You’re one of the bravest men I know,” he adds, pulling away to squeeze Alec’s shoulders and look him in the eye. “You’ve proven yourself to me every day I’ve known you.”  

Alec puts his hands on top of Jerry’s and squeezes back. “I love you,” he says, feeling bereft of anything else worth adding. 

“You too,” Jerry says, and then he’s tugging Alec close and kissing him again, deep and wanting. 

Alec finds himself pressed back against the wall before he realizes they’ve moved. Jerry’s thigh has found its way between his, and he can’t help but grind down against it, lost to his own arousal for a moment. 

“Let me give you something to remember me by when you’re in the lion’s den tomorrow night,” Jerry says. “How shall I have you?”

“You’re asking?”

“I thought that was obvious.” 

“Why does it matter? You’ll do what you like anyway.” Alec says. “Which isn’t a complaint, I assure you.” 

Jerry kisses him. “It matters a great deal to me. I want to know what you want.” 

“I want you to fuck me,” Alec makes himself say, nearly managing to look Jerry in the eye while he does it. “Hard. I want to— to feel you, tomorrow.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Jerry asks, and then he’s kissing Alec, holding his face gently between his hands and pressing in close again. 

They strip each other, and Jerry pulls him to the bed, pushing him down and following straight away, pinning Alec to the narrow mattress, biting at his earlobe. “I want you to be able to feel me inside you when you deceive our Mr. Carter,” he says, his slick fingers pressing insistently between Alec’s legs. Alec gasps when he pushes two fingers forward to start, the burn of it startling and good. Jerry continues, “I want you to think about this through his whole ridiculous magic show. My fingers inside you, my cock. I want you to squirm in your box seat and be left achingly hard during the reception with how bad you want my prick again.” 

“And you’ll give it to me,” Alec says, not quite a question, but he needs to know. 

Jerry kisses him, wet and open. Consuming. He’s hunched over Alec to get to his mouth without stopping his other ministrations. “Of course I will. I’ll drag you right back to mine and have you all over again, rich with loot and drunk off our cunning. Maybe I won’t even get you all the way out of your tails.” He curls his fingers sharply, rubbing against the place inside Alec that makes him want to sob. “Maybe I’ll push down your trousers just enough to take you, spoil you in your best evening dress.” 

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me, Jerry, I—” Alec moans. 

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Jerry rubs his cheek against Alec’s. “I’m going to, I’m going to.” Even as he reassures Alec, he’s pulling out his fingers. Alec can hear the sound of him slicking his cock, and he looks down the length of his own body to see where Jerry has himself in hand. His mouth fairly waters, and he marvels that he somehow always wants this, always needs it, this physical manifestation of Jerry’s affection. 

He bites his lip when Jerry pushes in, trying to hold at least some of the more telling noises at bay. Jerry arranges him with his hips lifted off the bed, cradled by Jerry’s own. He holds Alec down on his back easily, hands tight on his upper arms, namely because Alec isn’t trying to fight his way free at all. He tosses his head back, letting Jerry do as he pleases, knowing he’ll get his pleasure in turn. 

“That’s it,” Jerry says, mindless. “That’s it, like that.”

His thumbs press tight on Alec’s arms, just above his elbows, pinning him, and all Alec has to do, blissfully, is take it. And Jerry gives it to him steady and firm, hips snapping in again and again, burying his cock in Alec as he writhes in Jerry’s grip. 

He suspects that Jerry likes it, a little, Alec playing at being indolent. Alec being idle and lying back, letting Jerry have his way with him. The trouble is Alec would let him do anything, and the real trouble is Jerry would return the favor in spades. 

“Gorgeous,” Jerry pants, staring down at him with something like awe. “It’s almost hard to look at you sometimes.” 

“Sod off,” Alec manages, looking away as he feels his cheeks heat. 

“It is,” Jerry insists. “Hard to see you and not want to bend you over the nearest flat surface, or pin you to the closest wall.” Alec moans, his gaze flicking back to Jerry’s. “Do you know how hard it is for me to not kiss you every time I see you?” Jerry asks, his voice softer. 

Alec feels something crack open inside him, deep in his chest, something that makes everything tight and sharp. He bites his lip and breathes through his nose, blinking rapidly. “Then why don’t you?” 

Jerry’s on him right away, kissing him like he’s starving for it. His hands are too tight on Alec’s arms, but that doesn’t stop Alec from curving up to meet him, groaning into the kiss. It must be difficult to hold himself up like this on Alec rather than a flat surface, but Jerry manages, his thumbs digging harder into Alec’s skin. 

“Alec, I’m going to—” 

“Please,” Alec whines. He can’t get a hand on himself like this, but he can wait. He can wait as long as Jerry needs him to.

Jerry groans as his hips stutter, pressing in deep and hard, making Alec’s toes curl with the feeling, his thighs tightening on Jerry’s hips, trying to keep him there a little longer. Jerry pants into the pillow beside Alec’s ear. Alec kisses his cheek and sees his smile curve. 

“Just a moment,” Jerry says, propping himself up so he can look down at Alec. 

Alec wraps Jerry in his newly freed arms, relishing the strain he can already feel in the muscles. “As long as you need.” 

“Or not at all?” Jerry teases, and he hisses as Alec reflexively tightens around his softening cock in response to his words. “No, I’d say you’re too eager for that tonight.” 

“Probably,” Alec admits. 

“Good,” Jerry says. “I like you eager.” 

He kisses Alec, swallowing his grunt when he slips free. He kisses the point of Alec’s chin, the hollow of his throat, and then takes a meandering path to kiss both nipples before he keeps working his way down Alec’s chest. 

“I want to taste you,” he says, and it’s all the warning Alec gets before his cock is engulfed in the wet heat of Jerry’s mouth. He fights to keep still, but Jerry pushes two fingers inside where Alec’s already wet, practically dripping with come. 

Jerry merely moans when Alec’s hips jerk, pushing further into his mouth, encouraging Alec with a crook of his fingers. Alec gives it up as a lost cause. He was already on the edge from their fucking, and the way Jerry’s watching him, mouth stretched wide for Alec’s shallow thrusts, is more than he can possibly take. 

When Jerry climbs back up to him afterward, his mouth is red and wet, and Alec can’t stop kissing it, thrilling at the taste of himself on Jerry’s lips. Jerry draws away with a kiss to Alec’s forehead, pulling the blankets over him. He lights a fire before rummaging through the clothes strewn on Alec’s bedroom floor. 

“Hush, I’ll be right back,” he says, before Alec can ask. He sits on the bed when he returns, naked and unconcerned. Alec tries to focus on his words. “If I recall correctly, I promised to teach you a magic trick.”

“You did.” Alec pushes himself up, gathering the blankets in his lap as he watches Jerry disappear and reappear the coin from hand to hand, moving slower each time so Alec can see how it’s done before he passes it over. 

“No, try again,” Jerry says, moving Alec’s hands slightly after the first few attempts, and adjusting his grip on the coin after a few more. 

Unsurprisingly, Jerry’s a much better teacher than Carter, and he grins widely at Alec when he finally manages to transfer the coin to his right hand without dropping it on the counterpane or revealing the flash of bronze. “See? Anyone can be a magician.” 

Alec yawns and hands the coin back to Jerry, lying down. “We can’t fall asleep, Mrs. Barzowski will have my head if she sees you leave in the middle of the night. Or the morning.” He curls around Jerry anyway, pulling him down. 

Jerry laughs. “I think she’d let you get away with a lot more. I suspect she likes the secret prestige of having an aristocratic tenant too much.” 

Alec blushes. “Even still.” 

“Even still,” Jerry agrees, kissing his hair. “Go to sleep, Alec, I can see myself out.” 

“It’s fine,” Alec says, or tries to say. He means to get up, but his eyes are so heavy. Jerry shushes him, and he drifts off to the feeling of clever fingers carding through his hair. 

Alec wakes early to find Jerry gone and the fire mere embers. He can’t get back to sleep for the nerves, so he refreshes the fire and practices disappearing the coin that Jerry left on his desk. He works at it until he can do it quickly enough to fool an especially distracted child, and by then his hands are no longer shaking.  

The rest of his morning is spent finishing his last illustration for the children’s book — a fawn unsteady on its new legs — and he takes it to the publisher in the early afternoon. The man leafs through the pages and enthusiastically shakes Alec’s hand after, pleased as punch when he slides over a cheque. 

Alec lunches at the Sketch. He feels lighter, the way he always does when he gets an assignment behind him. By the time he takes the omnibus home to avoid the chill in the air, he’s worried over his next task: keeping Carter distracted tonight. 

A note from the magician himself comes a few hours before the show begins, inviting Alec to arrive early. All the better to receive a private tour backstage, it concludes in Carter’s looping scrawl. 

Alec blanches, but he sends along his agreement all the same. Thanks to Lane’s careful reconnaissance, and Alec’s own experience at the house, they know that Carter doesn’t keep a live-in or even full-time staff. If Alec can ensure Carter’s out of the way even earlier, the easier it will make Jerry and Lane’s part in all of this. He dashes off a note to Jerry and sends it with the first messenger boy he sees, likely overpaying in his haste. 

He wishes Jerry were here now, to reassure him that all of this isn’t going to go absolutely pear-shaped. To settle his nerves or at least provide a diversion. The inside of his arms are bruised from Jerry’s attentions last night, and they ache when he presses on them, different but conjoined from the ache elsewhere. He presses harder, considering taking himself in hand before he decides better of it. More sensible to wait until everything is through, after all. Until he’s safe on the other side of this with Jerry’s hands on him instead.

Alec is ushered into the theatre as soon as he arrives, his full, titled name barely out of his mouth before someone is leading him backstage. Carter, even Alec can admit, looks resplendent in all-white evening dress. His buttons are pearl, his cufflinks appear to be — 

“Ivory,” Carter says proudly, noticing Alec’s gaze. He slings an arm around Alec’s shoulders and tugs him into the warmth of his body. “It’s so good to see you, old boy! You turn out well.” 

He makes no secret of blatantly looking Alec up and down, even pressed close together as they are. Alec’s wearing a new suit, and the wool twill feels heavy and constricting under Carter’s sharp eyes. Jerry hasn’t seen this one yet, or the cornflower blue bowtie made of silk so fine that Alec felt guilty even tying it into shape. The tailor’s apprentice, Alec’s junior by some ten years and blushing furiously, had assured him it brought out his eyes.

“Come now, much to see.” Carter takes his elbow and leads him through the bowels of the theatre, careful to show off but never too much. Lest Alec be, Carter says with a wink, “Unimpressed by the show to come.”

Unfortunately, everything Carter has stashed backstage is interesting, and Alec finds himself asking for more detail against his intentions. He’s seen illusionists before, and he’s always found it all fascinating. 

Cara had been fond of them, and he used to buy them tickets whenever he could manage it. They’d watch from far away on the upper balcony, Cara grasping his arm and wondering aloud how on earth a lady fit in either side of a coffin being sawed in half.

Alec’s far from the cheap seats tonight, put up in a private box with an elderly couple who are also guests of Carter’s. They don’t show much of an interest in Alec since they don’t recognize his shortened surname, and he’s left pleasantly alone when the lights dim. He finds himself rubbing at the inside of his arms, pushing down on Jerry’s marks. He tries not to shift in his seat, despite Jerry’s promises.

Carter doesn’t pretend to saw any women in half, though he does levitate his young, buxom assistant. She lies on thin air, invisibly balanced above a dagger, the sharpness of which Carter proves on an unsuspecting audience member’s handkerchief. At some point there are voices from the great beyond, and at another an alleged ghost floats across the stage making grave predictions about the evening. Blood will be spilled, and that sort of thing. Near the end of the show, Carter borrows a pocket watch from an audience member, making it disappear. It somehow still ticks in the empty box that once housed it, and the audience is utterly silent listening for it. 

The show is a rousing success judging by the applause, and Alec has to grudgingly admit it was almost entertaining enough to take his mind off the night’s real festivities. He moves with the crowd of wealthy patrons to a separate ballroom for the reception after. 

Carter appears, sweaty from the stage lights. Everyone he passes congratulates him on a great show, but the smile on his face looks forced. His expression seems drawn at the corners, but Alec smiles back when Carter reaches him. 

“That was splendid!” Alec says, making himself lean into the hand Carter has seen fit to lay against his back in greeting. 

“Did you really think so?” Carter asks, brushing his hand further down Alec’s back before removing it entirely. He runs his hand through his own hair, heedless of the oil. His gaze is piercing. 

“Of course,” Alec answers, keeping the smile on his face and praying Carter doesn’t try to drag him backstage alone. He grabs a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray, throwing most of it back when one of many well-dressed ladies approaches them. 

He can do this, he can. His part in this is easy, he tells himself. His conviction solidifies further when he spots Lane in a far corner. Lane eyes the crowd, and he makes no move to signal Alec. That must mean everything went off without a hitch, they can leave soon, and, moreover, that Jerry is here somewhere. Alec scans the room without quite meaning to, growing urgent in his search. 

Finally he spots a familiar dark head at the bar. Something inside him loosens all at once, and he feels like he could collapse to the plush carpet in relief. Instead, he drains the rest of his champagne. 

“Does anyone need a refresher?” Alec asks, nodding toward the bar. 

Jerry is ordering when Alec steps close, under the pretense of getting his own drink. He’s jostled by a man behind him, which is all the opportunity Alec needs to move closer, near enough to Jerry to feel his warmth for a moment.

“So sorry,” he says, turning toward the bartender like Jerry’s but a stranger. He feels Jerry’s eyes on him as he orders, and he fights down a blush. He swallows when he sees a certain devilish smirk out of the corner of his eye before he walks back to Carter. 

He manages to make conversation with Carter’s wealthiest fans and patrons for another forty-five minutes, keeping what he hopes is a subtle eye on his watch. Each time he shakes or kisses a hand, he wonders if the smiling face behind it has been swindled the way the Turners have been. He keeps his arms crossed most of the time, so he can press on the bruises without anyone being the wiser, reminding him all at once of Jerry and not to look across the room at him.

When the latest titled couple departs, Alec turns to Carter. “I really must be going.”

A flash of anger flits Carter’s face before it turns to confusion. “Oh?” 

“Yes, unfortunately I have an early meeting,” Alec lies. He forces himself not to apologize, simply shaking Carter’s hand. 

Carter doesn’t let go. “Will you call on me before I sail for the Continent?” 

Alec smiles, hoping it doesn’t look too forced. “Of course.” He won’t. He’ll avoid the man until he leaves for Europe, far more destitute than he was a few hours ago if all has gone to plan. 

As Alec leaves the ballroom, he sees Mrs. Turner swoop in to take her place at Carter’s side, her husband in tow. Alec makes sure to catch Jerry’s eye. He taps his own breast pocket, and he just barely glimpses Jerry’s surprise at finding something there before he heads down the narrow stairs. They lead to a small basement room that sometimes holds the overflow audience during intermission. It’s seldom used now, Carter told him during the tour, as the Egyptian expanded its lobby several years ago. 

Alec leans back against the wall, making sure he’s arranged in a pleasing way, shoulders slumped a little and hands in his pockets. Footsteps alight on the stairs sooner than he expected, and he smiles, his blood humming in anticipation. He opens his mouth to greet Jerry and instead freezes when he sees who it is that’s joined him. 

It’s Carter, his hair even more mussed than it was minutes ago. He stops a few paces from Alec, pushing back his coat to put his hands on his hips. There’s a glint from his cummerbund. At first Alec thinks it’s a watch chain, but no. It’s the hilt of the dagger from his levitation trick.

Alec swallows and tries to keep the easy grin on his face. “Jonathan,” he says, hoping he can exude calm with Carter’s given name. 

“I suppose you think this is all very amusing, don’t you?” Carter walks closer, slow and like he has all the time in the world. 

“I’m glad you—” 

“Shut up!” Carter yells, his face going red with anger as he steps toe-to-toe with Alec. He’s not here hoping for an illicit encounter, Alec suddenly realizes. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“I’m sure I don’t—” Alec cuts himself off as Carter wraps his hands around his throat. He’s not squeezing yet, but the weight of them is heavy and impossible to ignore when Alec swallows. 

“I told you to be quiet,” Carter says, practically hissing into Alec’s face. He increases the pressure on Alec’s neck. “My man told me as soon as he found the safe. I’d forgotten to bring the bank notes I needed to pay back a patron, you see.” 

Alec snorts. He knows Carter’s game, there’s no way he was paying back any patron in full, at least. More likely he lost something at the gambling tables. Carter’s hands tighten. 

“Almost completely emptied out, he said. Can you imagine?” Carter continues. “I really needn’t trouble myself with you. You’re just the whore they sent to distract me, aren't you?”

Alec jerks against his hands without meaning to, anger mingling with his fear. Where is Jerry? The note Alec had slipped him said to meet Alec down here, and soon. He’d been vague, of course. Deniable, in the event anyone else read it, but Jerry’s no fool. What’s holding him up? 

Alec’s vision is starting to swim, black dots gathering in intensity. He’s going to pass out any second. Or worse. There are still no footsteps on the stairs. Jerry’s not coming, and Alec’s going to be murdered right under his feet. Maybe he and Lane were right after all. 

No, Alec thinks. 

“What’s that? ‘No?’” Carter asks, and Alec realizes he said it aloud. “You think you can sway me otherwise? It will be a bit of a mess, of course, the death of a duke’s brother. But by the time they think to look at me, I’ll be on my way to France.”

Alec scrambles at Carter’s hands, his air almost completely cut off. He tries to kick at his legs, but Carter has muscles that Alec’s lacking, slamming him back against the wall so that stars light up in Alec’s already darkening vision. He drops his hands in defeat.  

“Have you ever seen a rabbit pulled out of a hat, Mr. Pyne?” 

“N—no,” Alec manages, forcing the word out with as little breath as he has. Carter readjusts his grip and Alec takes in a lungful of air. 

“They have a look about them. Something around the eyes. Not at all separate to what you have now.” 

“Is that so?” Alec gasps. “I generally find that rabbits aren’t armed.” 

“What?” Carter asks, confused, and then he yells and throws Alec back as the dagger in Alec’s hand stabs into his gut. The dagger Alec lifted off of him without his notice. 

Jerry would be proud, Alec thinks, as his head knocks into the plaster wall again and before his vision goes black for a moment. He blinks and the world rights itself again, a little too bright and too loud, laughter echoing from upstairs, footsteps swift on the descent. 

Footsteps. Alec leverages himself up, and Carter does the same, groaning. His crisp white suit is a riot of red now. He glares at Alec and calls out, “Please help! This lunatic, he’s—” Carter breaks off in a pained gasp, holding his newly bloodied nose.

“Shut up, or I’ll kick you again,” Jerry advises, striding toward Alec. He kneels and flashes Alec’s note before tucking it away. “You are a wonder, aren’t you? I assume you ran him through, and he didn’t do that to himself?” 

It hurts to talk, Alec’s throat aching from Carter’s hands. It sounds like it’s been scrubbed raw. “He was going to—” 

“Hush,” Jerry says, reaching out and then thinking better of it, glancing over his shoulder at Carter. “Christ. Just stay there, all right? Stay down.” Alec has no trouble following his instruction, head throbbing as he watches Jerry tie Carter’s hands behind his back with his own white silk scarf. 

Jerry crouches down beside Alec again. “I have to go, but I’ll be waiting for you after. Outside. Tell them that Carter attacked you because you found out he was stealing.”

“Tell who?”

Jerry winks and walks toward the stairs. “Help, someone!” he yells. “A man’s been stabbed!” 

In the following roar of morbid curiosity, Jerry threads his way out of the room and up the stairs, leaving Alec alone with Carter and two dozen other audience members. They’re joined in short order by the police, and Alec’s stomach turns over. 

“You the one that did that?” One of them asks, a sergeant by his stripes, hooking his thumb over at Carter. 

Alec is very aware of the blood staining his cuffs and palms. “Yes, but—” 

“Good on you,” the sergeant says. “Made our job a lot easier. Far as I’m concerned, he tried to steal your watch at knifepoint and you turned it back on him.” The man pats Alec’s shoulder firmly, a pleased smile in place. “You all right, son? Need looking over at all? We got a medic on the way.” 

During his examination, Alec puts it together that the police were thoroughly tipped off as to Carter’s thievery. Apparently the Turners weren’t the first of his patrons by any means, and he was stealing from them all. Alec wonders how Lane got all of them to come forward, and how many names would be kept out of the papers. 

Carter is led away in irons, bandages secured around his middle. He opens his mouth as he’s frogmarched past Alec, fury clear on his face, but the sergeant wallops him in the gut before he can get a word out, winking at Alec as Carter coughs and struggles to breathe. Alec feels shaky with relief, no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Well, this is more exciting than the show itself.” Mrs. Turner drops into the chair next to Alec, her eyes bright with victory. 

“I’d say so,” Mr. Turner says, his hand on her shoulder. “I can’t believe that scoundrel attacked you, Mr. Pyne. What a disgrace, I’m ashamed to say he made fools of us, too.” 

Alec smiles at the smug look on Mrs. Turner’s face. His throat feels better now, even if his voice comes out soft. “Sometimes you just can’t have the true measure of a man, Mr. Turner.” 

“Well said. I do hope you don’t let this business reflect poorly on our acquaintance. We’d love to have you over to the house. I fear my wife is quite enamored of you, and she’s not one to take no for an answer.” 

“She doesn’t seem it,” Alec agrees. 

Jerry is waiting outside, as promised, and the stampede of police don’t spare him a second glance. “What’s the verdict? I saw the magician taken away in chains. He doesn’t seem to be grievously wounded, unfortunately.” 

“I’m not concussed, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Hmm, I still think I’d better take you home with me, just in case. Keep a close eye on you.” 

Alec’s breath catches. “Yes, you’d better.” 

“I heard he tried to choke you? It was damned clever of you, slipping that note into my pocket.” 

“Thank god I did.” 

Jerry looks sideways at him. “I don’t know, I think you had it all in hand. Can’t believe you stabbed him.” 

“I lifted the knife off him,” Alec says, watching the road ahead instead of Jerry’s face. “He didn’t realize I had it until, well. Until it was too late.” 

Because he’s not looking, it comes as a surprise when Jerry shoves him suddenly sideways. He lets himself be pushed into the narrow space between a block of tenement houses and a pharmacy, Jerry holding him gently against the brick wall. 

“Brilliant,” Jerry breathes against his lips before he kisses him, his mouth hot and bruisingly sure. 

Alec’s been kissed in his share of dark alleys, but never by Jerry. He moans, his body arching into Jerry’s, already primed and ready for whatever the man has in mind. 

Jerry breaks away and pushes his face into Alec’s neck, running his lips over his abused throat as Alec lets his head fall back to thunk against the brick. Jerry pulls back sharply, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Alec’s head. “Don’t go and give yourself an actual concussion, now.” 

“It would be your fault,” Alec says, and Jerry laughs. 

“Fair enough.” His eyes sweep down Alec’s frame, heavy with purpose. He’s smirking when he says, “Do you need a moment before I hail us a cab?” 

Alec squeezes Jerry’s hip in his hand before trailing his hand inward to brush where Jerry’s just as stiff in his own trousers. He wishes he could raise a single eyebrow in turn, but Jerry gets the message anyway. 

“A moment, then,” Jerry says, resting his forehead against Alec’s. They breathe together, the cold of the night affecting their ardor in degrees. He flexes his fingers on Alec’s shoulders, holding him tight and still. “When I came down the stairs to meet you, all the blood, I thought—” 

“I’m fine.” 

Jerry shakes his head. “I should’ve been there sooner.” 

“Then you would have deprived me of my heroic moment,” Alec says. “Besides, maybe I’m more of a match for you now I’ve stabbed a man.” 

Jerry kisses his forehead before stepping back, a soft smile on his face. “Maybe you’re right.” 

“Do you think he’ll say anything?” Alec asks. “About me?” 

Jerry shakes his head. “No, he’d be incriminating himself more than anything. Plus, no one would believe him. He’s a scamp, and you’re practically royalty.”

“I’m not—“

“I said practically. Really, Alec, don’t let it go to your head.”

“I thought you were going to take me home,” Alec says, laughing. 

“I did say that. I don’t know if I’ll be half this nice once we’re there.” 

Alec shivers. “I certainly hope not.” 

Sometimes Alec feels like all he needs to get hard is the right glance from Jerry, and it’s no different now, when Jerry closes the bedroom door behind them and looks him over head to toe. 

“That’s a new jacket,” he says, and Alec nods. “It looks nice. Take it off before I ruin it.” 

When they’ve scrambled out of their clothes, Jerry pushes him against the door, kissing him once, soundly, the wood cold against Alec’s back, before he yanks him to the bed. He touches Alec’s neck, his fingers ringing it lightly. 

“This isn’t bruising yet. Does it hurt?” He looks morose, and it’s almost an unfamiliar expression on his face. When Alec shakes his head, Jerry runs his hands down to the bruises on the soft skin above his elbows. “Does this? I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Alec whispers. “Not about that.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Make it up to me now.” 

“I intend to. Do you even need me to prepare you, or are you still open from my prick last night?” Jerry reaches for the little jar beside his bed. When his prick is oiled and gleaming, he leans down to kiss Alec, hands on his face. “Turn over for me,” he says, his hands already helping Alec to roll onto his belly. 

Alec’s whole body is trembling, a fine, faint tremor that makes his arms shake as he braces himself on his elbows and knees, all but panting for air as Jerry lines up behind him. The pressure of his cock is as large in Alec’s mind as it ever is, eating up the rest of his thoughts as Jerry pushes in slow and steady. When he’s fully rested inside, he stops, draped across Alec’s back, and hooks an arm around Alec when he tries to rock back for more. 

“Shh, just like this for a moment,” Jerry says, kissing Alec’s nape, the shell of his ear. “Let me feel you like this, stretched wide for my cock. This is what you wanted, right? To feel me inside you? Could you, during the show?” 

“God, yes. Jerry, please.”

Jerry kisses the back of his neck. “I’m going to fuck you, don’t worry yourself over that.” 

Then he pulls all the way out before slamming his hips back in, and Alec can’t help the sound he makes, ragged and wanton and ripped from his sore throat. “Again, please. Don’t stop,” he manages. 

“Oh, I have no intention to,” Jerry assures him, and Alec can hear the tremble in his own voice as he keeps fucking in, violent enough that Alec’s knees are sliding against the covers. “You were aching, weren’t you? All stretched open for me, waiting for me to do this to you again.” 

He wraps his hand around Alec’s leaking prick, and Alec keens. He shudders between Jerry’s cock and his hand, spilling into his fist all too quickly. 

“God, you really are a fucking wonder,” Jerry breathes. “Do you think you can come again for me?” 

“I don’t know, I— keep going, I want you to keep—” 

“I will, I will. Come here.” Jerry pulls out carefully, and Alec lets himself collapse to the bed. Jerry laughs, but it’s a warm, bright sound. “Come on, let me see you.” 

He urges Alec to roll onto his back, even though Alec feels weak. All his muscles and bones are soft, pliant and useless as a kitten. He can’t stop the tremor in his body as Jerry pushes back in, and he doesn’t try to stay quiet. 

“So good for me,” he hears Jerry saying, distantly. “So, so good for me.” 

Jerry’s hand wraps around Alec’s cock and it’s only then that he realizes he’s growing hard again. He clutches at Jerry’s shoulders, pushing his face into his neck so he can pant against his skin. Jerry pulls back, and Alec blinks up at him. Jerry holds onto his jaw with one hand to bring Alec into a kiss, rubbing his thumb under Alec’s eye where Alec can feel his cheek getting damp. 

“Beautiful,” Jerry says, brushing away his tears. “Beautiful and all mine.” 

“Yours,” Alec agrees, kissing him again. “I’m yours.” 

“I love you so much it’s ridiculous,” Jerry says, his hand twisting just right that Alec’s whole body comes off the bed as he shouts and spends again. As if from far away, he feels Jerry’s own release, hears his guttural moan. 

“You’re a wreck,” Jerry says as he cleans him up, running a soft, wet cloth over Alec’s chest and stomach and then further down. 

“Your fault,” Alec points out, before he yawns wide enough his jaw cracks. 

Jerry looks smug. “I have something for you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Your share.” He shakes a box that Alec hadn’t noticed yet. Something heavy rattles in it. Alec pushes himself up on his elbows. “Carter had more than enough cash locked away that I didn’t even have to wait to fence anything. We just nipped over to Stan’s before coming to the Egyptian. Here.” 

The box is as heavy as it sounded, and when he cracks the lid open, Alec can only blink. 

“Allegedly it belonged to a prince or a Russian empress, depending on who you’re talking to. My money’s on a prince, but maybe it was just an heiress.” 

It’s a string of interconnected, large cushion-cut diamonds, and branching off are smaller ones arranged in an almost filigree pattern leading to a point, set so they’d seem to drip down — well, Alec’s chest, apparently. Alec touches it with reverent fingers. He wants to feel the weight of it, the coolness against his bare skin. 

“Maybe not for now,” Jerry says. “You probably shouldn’t sleep in it. But you could hide it under your shirt easily, it should be perfect for your slender neck, once any marks that brute left fade. What do you think?”

“It’s not a corset,” Alec says blankly, and Jerry laughs, closing the box so he can take Alec in his arms. “It’s beautiful,” Alec says between kisses. 

“Then it’s in good company.” Jerry hesitates, looking away for a moment. “Did you want it to be a corset?” 

Alec considers, pulling Jerry to lie down. “No, no I don’t so.” 

“All right.” 

“Maybe next time.” 

“I’ll be happy to get you whatever you want,” Jerry says fiercely, turning to kiss him. “But damned if I let anyone get the chance to put their hands on you again.”

“Understood,” Alec says, pillowing his head on Jerry’s shoulder. He smiles up at him, sly. “My birthday’s in February.” 

Jerry laughs, loud and booming so it echoes around the room, and Alec can’t help but join in, shaking with it against Jerry’s chest. “Well played, Lord Alexander. Well played.”