The candles had gone out by the time Pip had woken, but the clouds had turned to watered ink, even as snow continued to fall. He scrunched his shoulders and nuzzled Lord Westcott's collarbone. A smile came to his lips at the young lord's warmth, his faint smell of roses. Lord Westcott's arm hung around his shoulders, and he released a quiet moan as Pip pressed a soft kiss to his chest.
More minutes passed and Pip knew he did not have any more time to linger. With a sigh, and a weight in his chest that felt heavier now than any time before, Pip sat up, and moved to swing his legs over the bed. He would only return to his room and change. No one had to know he'd started the day in Lord Westcott's chambers.
It doesn't hurt too badly, Pip tried to tell himself. I've done it before.
And in the end, it couldn't have hurt more than the thought of Lord Westcott waking and saying, with no small amount of pity, Imagine what the others would think if they knew you'd spent the night here. Why don't you just return to your room and come back in a few minutes?
Pip was only beginning to wonder if he could change quickly enough and come back before six when Lord Westcott groaned and reached an arm around his waist.
"Where are you going?" he whined, his eyes still closed and his brow furrowed as he pulled Pip back to his side. He buried his face in Pip's neck. "It's too early," he muttered. "Go back to sleep."
Pip stared at the ceiling, not knowing what to do as Lord Westcott nuzzled deeper into his side. He slowly put his arms around Lord Westcott's shoulders, giving him time to pull away or dismiss him. When he did not, Pip was not reassured.
"Er, perhaps I should return to my room?" he asked into the peaceful silence.
"What for?" grumbled Lord Westcott, his arm around Pip's waist tightening. "D'you need something important?"
"No?"
"Then shush," he said, stretching a leg over Pip's, and running one hand down his side. Pip felt a tingle follow his touch.
And he knew he ought to have simply enjoyed the bliss, but his mind so rarely allowed him to let the odd go.
Hence, his question which he knew would only bring trouble; "What if someone finds out I spent the night?"
Lord Westcott was undeterred. "What if someone finds out you spent the night?"
"Well, wouldn't that bother you?"
He huffed, impatient, and looked up. "Would it bother you?"
Pip swallowed. It was silly to be flustered at the close proximity of his and Lord Westcott's faces, and yet here he was, momentarily speechless at the beauty of his long lashes, his rosy cheeks, the black curls falling over his brow.
"I . . . I don't think so?"
"Is that a question?" he said. "Or are you telling me?"
He swallowed. "I'm telling you."
"Good," he said. Pip may have believed Lord Westcott had not been concerned about his answer had he not leaned up to press his lips to Pip's in a long kiss.
Pip cupped his face, stilling him. "You really want me to stay? Until breakfast? You won't change your mind?"
Lord Westcott frowned. "No, Pip, I won't change my mind."
"Are you certain?" insisted Pip. "Because I can be downstairs in seconds, and no one would know I was here."
Something in Lord Westcott's expression fit into place, and he softened. He kissed Pip's lips again. "I want you to stay with me." He kissed Pip's cheeks. "Forever, if you'll let me keep you that long." He kissed each of Pip's eyes, making him laugh despite his anxieties. "And damn what anyone suspects or thinks."
Pip could not admit that he did not completely believe him, but he wanted to be with Lord Westcott for as long as he was allowed. He wanted to be allowed this dream a little longer.
"Kiss me again," he whispered, and Lord Westcott grinned, leaning down. He merely pecked Pip's lips, and moved back again.
"Call me 'Robert'."
Pip's eyes widened. "No!"
" 'Robbie', then."
"I can't do that!"
"Then I won't kiss you anymore," he threatened, grinding his hips into Pip's and making him gasp.
"You must be joking," he breathed, and instead of responding, Lord Westcott bit his lower lip and grinded into him again. "S-Stop that. If you're not going to kiss me—"
"Call me by my name."
"No."
He thrusted again, nuzzling Pip's neck once more, his lips brushing Pip's skin and further igniting the simmering heat pooling in his stomach.
"You still smell like the earth," he grinned. "How? It's been snowing for days."
He pressed a kiss to Pip's neck, and took the bit of sensitive skin between his teeth. Pip gasped and clutched his back.
"You—"
"Say it."
Lord Westcott began grinding as he was sucking a bruise into the base of Pip's neck. Pip clawed down his back, but it seemed to only spur him on.
"Ah—ah—I c-can't! It feels odd!"
He hummed. And then the grinding and sucking both suddenly stopped.
"And this?" he said as he hovered above Pip but wouldn't touch him. "How does this feel? Frustrating, I'd wager."
"You really won't kiss me?"
"Not until you call me by my name."
Pip clenched his jaw. He was hardened and his heart was still racing. He wanted Lord Westcott's mouth on him, Lord Westcott's hands. That was the only reason, he told himself, that he turned onto his side, avoiding Lord Westcott's eyes, and growled, "Robert."
"What was that?" he said, and Pip could hear the grin in his voice. He hated loving that silly grin. "I didn't quite hear you."
"Robert," he said again, his eyes on the candle sitting on Lord Westcott's desk. "I want you to kiss me—"
His words were cut short as Lord Westcott turned his chin, and took his lips hungrily in his own. Lord Westcott lay down behind him, pressing the front of his body against Pip's back.
"Finally," he said as he wrapped an arm around Pip's waist and spread his fingers over his stomach. "Another second and I would've given in."
Pit bit his lower lip to keep from giggling, and then his mouth hung open, all humour gone as Lord Westcott sucked the same bruise into his neck. Pip thought just the sound of the young lord's tongue against his skin, the sound of his urgent sucking would be enough, but then he felt Lord Westcott's length slide into him, and he gasped, gripping the sheets desperately.
Lord Westcott kept a hand on Pip's hip, keeping him steady as he thrusted into him, his chest hair damp and sticking to Pip's back as he moved and grunted in Pip's ear. He reached down and gripped Pip's own hardened length, moving in rhythm with his thrusts. Pip turned and caught Lord Westcott's mouth in a deep, filthy kiss as they both reached their climax almost at once. They lay there, sweating and panting together.
"No one ought to be awake for another hour," said Lord Westcott into his ear, sending shivers up his spine.
Pip turned half his face into the pillow to hide his blush. "Honestly. Aren't you hungry?"
Lord Westcott pressed long, languid kisses down his ribs, his waist, his hip, his arse. He spread Pip's cheeks apart, making him gasp, and licked his lips at the sight before him. "Starving," he breathed.
As Pip and Lord Westcott were dressing an hour later, Lord Westcott pulling Pip in against him every so often to plant kisses on his shoulder or the nape of his neck or his lips, Pip spotted An Eternal Flame on his desk.
He threw his shirt on over his head, and grabbed the book, flipping through the pages. He glanced up at Lord Westcott, now busy rummaging through his closet, and began to read:
'Balanor stared at the beautiful Avlanc whilst he slept, bare and content beside him on the fur of their most recent hunt. The sun glimmering through the trees should not have reached them so easily, yet it did. It touched Avlanc's shoulders and hair, turning him gold. Otherworldly.
'It was as though the very forces of the earth were treasuring Avlanc, showing Balanor that he, a broken dragon, could never be enough for him. An unease rose in Balanor's stomach and he reached an arm around Avlanc's waist, keeping tight hold of him.
'Avlanc stirred from his sleep. "My love?" he murmured, and when he saw that Balanor was not in any danger, he allowed his eyes to flutter again, and he curled in against Balanor's naked chest, his source of warmth.
' "I'm here," said Balanor, holding Avlanc tighter against him, even as the earth seemed to say, You cannot keep him. He was too damaged, too dull to belong to a creature so powerful, so beautiful.
'Balanor wanted to fight these forces, these threats to his love. But he found all he could do in response was hold Avlanc tighter to him and whisper, "I'm here."'
"What're you doing?" Lord Westcott peered over his shoulder and Pip quickly closed the book. He snickered when he saw the cover. "I thought you didn't want to read that anymore?"
"I don't," said Pip as he set the book down, a lump lodged in his throat. "I was right to stop, I think. It only seems to get worse as the chapters go on."
Lord Westcott's brows furrowed, though he was still smiling as though he couldn't help it. Pip had never seen him look so happy. "What're you talking about?"
Pip swallowed and shook his head, managing a smile of his own. He hesitated only a moment before he interlocked his fingers behind Lord Westcott's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Lord Westcott returned it eagerly, one hand on Pip's chest, the other on his back.
When they pulled away, Lord Westcott was fiddling, amused, with the torn buttons of Pip's shirt. "What happened here, I wonder?"
"Shut up," said Pip, pushing him back. "You're very fortunate my waistcoat will hide this."
Lord Westcott scoffed. "You're not going out in that, it's freezing."
Pip scratched the back of his head. "All right, I suppose I can find you in the drawing room after I've changed."
"There's no need," he said, tossing Pip a white shirt he had pulled out of his closet. Now Pip realized what he'd been rummaging for.
Pip's eyes widened. "I—I can't wear this!"
"Why not?"
"It's . . . too big," he said, the argument weak to his own ears.
Lord Westcott giggled. Pip didn't think he'd ever heard him giggle before either. It was turning out to be quite a strange, but wonderful morning. "It's cold out, Pip, you're going to be wearing more than one coat. No one will notice. And," he stepped towards him, "in any regards, it would probably do a better job hiding that."
Pip had no idea to what he was referring, then Lord Westcott poked a spot on the base of his neck, and he hissed. He ran to check in the mirror and found the purple bruise that Lord Westcott had left with his tongue and teeth. The memory sent an echo wave of pleasure down Pip's spine that he had to actively ignore.
He grit his teeth at the sound of Lord Westcott's quiet laughter. "Stop enjoying this."
"I cannot," he said, and hugged Pip from behind, his chin hooked over Pip's shoulder. He pressed his nose to Pip's hair and inhaled his scent. "I love you," he whispered, and Pip's eyes fluttered shut.
He turned in Lord Westcott's embrace and did his best attempt at a scowl. "You're lucky you're so handsome."
He laughed. "Otherwise you'd never put up with me?"
"I'm a very shallow person," he said. His voice softened despite himself, "Aside from your wisdom, and heart of gold, and protective, wonderfully surprising nature . . . your looks are really all you've got."
Lord Westcott's smile widened. He gently pushed Pip's hair back from his eyes. "Say my name again."
Pip huffed. "No."
"Why not?"
"It's odd!"
"How is it odd?" he demanded. "What if I called you 'Mr. Kensley' again?"
"Well, that's different."
"How?"
"I'm a servant," he said, "and you're my master."
Lord Westcott did not seem surprised at his response, though his smile dimmed. "You're going to insist on that, are you?"
"Of course," he frowned. "Would you rather have someone else constantly at your side and following you around?"
His shoulders fell. He sighed. "No, but—"
"Then it's settled," he said.
"That doesn't bother you?" he said. "Being servant to the man who touches you in bed?"
"What's wrong with it?"
"You deserve better than that," he said. "So much better."
Pip thought of the story he'd just read. Of Balanor's doubts and fears. He cleared his throat. "Nonsense," he said. "I'm quite accustomed to it."
Pip finished dressing and promptly held out Lord Westcott's waistcoat and coat. Lord Westcott said nothing as he took them, his lips pursed in that way that meant his mind was running at too quick a pace for anyone else to catch up. Pip had learned not to ask until the answer eventually presented itself.
Finally, Lord Westcott beckoned him forward with a finger, and kissed his lips. "I'll show you, Philip Kensley," he whispered against his lips, "what loving you means to me."
Pip frowned. He was only just about to ask Lord Westcott what he meant when someone downstairs announced a visitor had come.
Lord Westcott and Pip shared a raised brow, and hurriedly finished patting themselves down before going to check. Now that there was no schedule to abide by, everyone was only just beginning to wake up, so no one much noticed that Pip had emerged from Lord Westcott's chambers after not returning to his own room the previous night.
They stepped outside, and Pip immediately scrunched his shoulders against the cold. Lord Westcott seemed to notice this and went to put an arm around him, but Pip stepped back. Lord Westcott could only be confused for a moment before they realized the carriage coming through the golden gates was one of their own.
Miss Bradley and Jane just emerged, and Miss Bradley hissed at the cold and clung to Pip to keep warm.
"Who'd you go and get this time, Robbie?" she asked him.
"Oh, that's right," said Lord Westcott, hitting his palm to his brow. "Our Christmas guests, I'd nearly forgotten."
Pip blinked. "You don't mean . . ." he trailed off. For right then, the footman hopped down from next to Mr. Acker and opened the carriage door to let out Thomas. Around his shoulder, he had a large bag filled with what looked like fabric poking out the top that Pip knew did not belong to him. He shot Pip a relieved smile and turned to help a tall woman with dark hair curled at the back of her head, a kind weary smile, and a long pink coat that Pip recognized as something he'd bought her with his very first wage.
Pip smiled. "Mother!" He ran down the steps and might've slipped on the ice had Lord Westcott not caught him with a hand around his waist. He cleared his throat and muttered a "thank you" before he left Lord Westcott's side and closed the distance between himself and his family.
"Pip," his mother sighed, her arms out. "My child, how I've missed you."
Pip ran into them, his nose pressed to her shoulder, inhaling the scent of the fancy perfume he'd also bought for her for her birthday a year ago. She only wore it on special occasions. Pip wondered if she was trying to make a good first impression.
She cupped his face, her dark brown eyes searching his face, a white cloud forming before her with every breath. "You look happy. Are you happy? Have you been eating enough?"
"Here," said Thomas, "let me look at you." He turned Pip this way and that by his shoulders. His eyes lingered on the spot just above Lord Westcott's shirt . . . on his neck . . .
Pip pulled away. "H-Honestly, Thomas," he said, raising his collar a bit more. "I'm all right."
"Leave your brother alone," said his mother, patting down her coat. "Er, hello, erm . . . Lord Westcott?"
Lord Westcott bowed his head respectfully. "Call me 'Robert,' please. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kensley."
She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear. "Adeline," she said. "Please, Thomas," she whispered, tugging Thomas's arm as he moved to investigate a bird that had flown around the corner of the manor.
Jane popped up suddenly. "Are you really Pip's mother? You should be. You're very pretty."
"My," Adeline chuckled. Despite her coat, she didn't seem to mind kneeling in the snow to take Jane's hand. "What a beautiful little girl you are. What's your name?"
"Jane," she said. "I'm Robbie's sister." She turned to Miss Westcott who had only just emerged and was slowly coming down the steps with Miss Bradley's help. "Isolde! Helen! Come meet Pip's mother! Isolde's my other sister, you see," she told Adeline. "We have another brother, too, but . . . he left a few days ago."
"Left?" said Thomas at once. "Mr. Reed? Where? Pip, is he hurt? In danger?"
"It's a long story," sighed Pip. "And no, he's not. You mustn't say things like that, Thomas."
"Yes," he muttered. "Yes. Oh, mother, get up, or you will surely be ill!"
Adeline stood with the help of her sons, and Pip dusted the snow off her coat. She smiled at Lord Westcott. "It was very kind of you to invite us over for the Christmas holidays. I hope we will not be a burden to your family."
"Nonsense," said Lord Westcott. "Pip's family is my family."
Jane seemed very pleased with his words, and Thomas blinked, startled, but Pip was busy thinking quickly. "O-Oh, Helen! Come meet my mother, Adeline! And you, Miss Westcott! Oh, mother, it's terribly cold out here, we should go inside now!"
His mother looked surprised, but Pip was already ushering her back towards the staircase where Misses Westcott and Bradley had just descended.
"Oh," panted Miss Bradley, "I'm so happy we made the trip. All right, greetings in the entrance hall, it is! Isolde, turn around, we've got to go back upstairs."
"Hello," said Miss Westcott to Pip's mother and brother as they ascended together. "Isolde Westcott, pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise."
"Pip," said Lord Westcott, "can you come here a moment?"
Pip patted his brother's arm to make certain he had hold of their mother, and returned to Lord Westcott's side as the carriage rode away towards the stables.
"Yes?" he huffed.
Lord Westcott regarded him a moment. Then, "I wonder if I may kiss you."
"Oh. Er . . ."
He reached for Pip's waist and leaned in, but Pip stepped back, out of his reach, at the last moment. They stood in silence. Lord Westcott did not look surprised.
"Is there a reason you don't want me to touch you in front of everyone?"
Pip could not look at him. He tugged at the white shirt he wore. "What if you change your mind?" he whispered.
"What?"
"Telling everyone," said Pip, unable to help the flow of words, "telling my family, it's permanent. If—if you change your mind . . ."
"About us?" he said. "Pip, I told you I love you."
"Oliver said the same thing," muttered Pip, and Lord Westcott fell silent. "And now, I . . . I love you in a way I never knew I could. This—this feels so much stronger and so much more consuming . . . and if you were to decide you don't want to . . . to be with a servant," he whispered these words so quietly that he worried the wind had carried them away and he would be forced to repeat them. "Well, I don't want everyone's pity and disappointment."
Lord Westcott stepped up to him. "Do you really think I could stop loving you?"
Pip sniffled against the cold, the wind biting his cheeks and nose. He raised his chin, defiant. "What I think doesn't matter. I won't risk that pain. Just the thought of losing you is suffocating enough. This would kill me."
To his surprise, Lord Westcott's lips quirked into half a smile. "And if I could show you?"
Pip shook his head. "You keep saying that. What do you mean?"
Lord Westcott's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, but instead of kissing Pip, he pressed their foreheads together. "You'll see, my love."
He stood straight again, smiling genuinely at Pip's furrowed brow, and walked past him towards the stairs.
"Come along, Pip," he said. "It's rude to keep everyone waiting."
***
One more week to go.