Chapter Twenty-Four – Shameless
He had only caught a glimpse of the bathroom attached to Bastien's room, and now that he was in it, with the lord of the house preparing a bath for him as if he were the servant and his guest the noble, Lawrence had to admit that he was impressed. Given the limitations of the old castle, the refurbished space offered an alluring effect. The slightly vaulted ceiling was low enough to make Lawrence experience, to some degree, the claustrophobic effect he'd gone through when visiting the repurposed carriage hall earlier that night. However, because the lighting was used cleverly, the bathroom appeared more spacious and inviting.
It was luxurious in an understated way. Like Bastien. Oh, great; the poet in him was comparing Bastien with polished chrome fixtures and porcelain basins.
They moved around each other without any clothes on. That allowed Lawrence the opportunity to admire Bastien from behind, which was, poetry aside, a really good look on him. While he wasn't keen on putting the main suspect on a pedestal – a tall order since he felt well spent and well fucked, giddy on the inside and difficult to control on the outside – he couldn't deny himself that simple pleasure.
Bastien had long, straight legs with harmonious musculature. Tensed as he was in his bent position, he offered a view that wasn't perfectly studied. Lawrence found himself craning his neck to steal a peek at the hint of a ball sac hanging between Bastien's legs. Funny how he hadn't imagined he'd like to stare at a man like that, and now he was doing it.
Absolutely shameless.
Lawrence took a step closer and ran one hand along Bastien's crack. His instant reward was a snicker.
"You are a bit too familiar with me, don't you think, knight-errant?"
"I'm afraid you've invited this sort of behavior by offering yourself up so quickly."
Bastien shook his head, still busy with adjusting the water temperature. "You are so different from everyone I know. Good different."
Lawrence understood well enough why Bastien was serving him back his own words. The lord was taking all the steps needed to get close to his humble subject. He could advise Bastien to lay it on a little less thick, but he didn't want to get kicked out in the cold when he could enjoy having the man in question as his bath attendant.
Instead of running his mouth, he accepted the invitation to climb into the bathtub. Although it was obviously too small for him and he ended up letting his legs hang over, he groaned in delight. There was hardly something more pleasurable than sinking in hot water after a day spent outside in the cold.
But there was, actually, something that could beat that. Bastien was slowly caressing his chest, soaping it. His hands moved with studied elegance, but Lawrence didn't have the heart to hold it against him. It felt too good to start protesting.
Their eyes met in the soft fog, reminding Lawrence of their first encounter. But this time, the air was hot and a different kind of dream was weaving between them.
"When we met--" Bastien started, his eyes darting sideways.
"I wanted to kiss you," Lawrence blurted out.
Bastien's eyes widened in mild shock. Lawrence dared to continue to stare back. He shouldn't have said that, but he wanted to reach for Bastien's mask and yank it off. Hard.
"You can't possibly mean that," Bastien said, his voice flirty and amused.
"What did you mean to say?" Lawrence asked. "You started to speak and I interrupted you." If he was quick to gloss over his untimely confession, maybe Bastien would take the hint. At Veridien, they were supposed to learn the intricacies of human interaction so they ignored when someone was making a fool of themselves in front of them.
"Ah. I wanted to tell you that I set out to seduce you," Bastien said, his mask falling back into place.
Fuck. Missed opportunity. That was a lie. Or only half a truth.
"You can't possibly mean that," Lawrence mirrored his host's words from earlier.
Bastien laughed. His eyes narrowed slightly, and there was a tiny glint of mischief in them. He was so beautiful.
Lawrence grinned and reached out to pinch Bastien's nose. "You're a liar," he said.
Bastien covered his nose, batting Lawrence's hand away. "Don't tell me my nose started to grow."
"That would be too easy. And people around here wouldn't be able to go round a corner without breaking their noses."
"Oh, you're one to talk," Bastien said. He ignored Lawrence's direct stare and began to wash his legs instead. "What happened here?" He wrapped his hand around the arch of Lawrence's foot, pressing against the wound.
Lawrence winced. "I cut myself."
"How? Save for almost drowning yourself during Lustratio, I remember you being more or less whole."
A lie – he needed one, and fast. "I like running. I went barefoot into the courtyard and cut myself on a sharp stone."
Bastien dropped his eyelids and gave him a suspicious, cat-like, stare. "Fine. You don't have to tell me everything." He returned to his bath attendant duties.
Lawrence caught Bastien's wrist. "It's not like you're telling me everything."
Bad move. Bastien reached between his legs and grabbed his balls.
"Ouch," Lawrence said in a deadpan voice.
He was sure his grin matched Bastien's. The kiss that followed was a tad too violent for their interactions so far, but it fit them better. Lawrence dragged Bastien into the bath tub over him, not without the other's help.
Now Bastien was pressed against him, and their crotches were touching. There was no room in the small bathtub for one, let alone two people, but that didn't mean they didn't try. The water sloshed, splashing on the tiles, and Bastien laughed breathlessly while he fought Lawrence to have the upper hand.
Lawrence wrapped one arm around Bastien's waist to keep him from sliding and used his other hand to aim true. A gasp was all the confirmation he needed that his fingers were pressing against Bastien's asshole. It was hot and puffy, a testimonial for the thorough fucking Lawrence had given the king earlier.
"Is teasing all you have?" Bastien asked. "I thought you were a man of action, Lawrence."
His name didn't have the right to sound so aristocratic, but it worked when Bastien's mouth was involved.
"Really? Didn't you have enough already?" Lawrence challenged him while they chased each other's lips.
"Barely."
Of course. Ali had commented previously on Bastien's sexual appetite. As shocking as it had been to Lawrence to hear it, it made him wonder if Lukas had delivered as demanded of him.
So he was merciless as his fingers sank in Bastien's tight heat. His partner's soft grunts of pleasure encouraged him, so he continued kissing and fingering Bastien until they were both breathless.
Bastien squirmed on top of him. Lawrence wished he could see him from behind now. Wasn't that a bit too selfish of him? But that way, his attention wouldn't get stolen away by those dark eyes that could torment a saint with the temptation written in them.
"Lawrence, if you continue--" Bastien clutched Lawrence's shoulders and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Are you kidding me? From so little?" He didn't stop.
Bastien collapsed on top of him, murmuring a few choice words and hiding his face in the crook of Lawrence's neck.
"You're so easy," he teased as he removed his fingers from Bastien's ass.
"And you are a bit too excited yourself to be making fun of others."
"Look who got his voice back."
"You are impossible," Bastien said with a small huff.
"You shouldn't throw stones when your cum is all over me."
"I don't believe that quote is accurate."
"You talk too much. I wonder if I should give your mouth something better to do than correcting others in such an insufferable tone."
Bastien's laughter was subdued but it shook his body, making Lawrence smile.
"Do you want me to say it?"
"Beg for it," Bastien said in a haughty, consciously-grating voice.
"All right. I'm not above it. Suck my cock, Bastien."
Bastien gasped in pretend indignation. "Do you truly expect me to comply?"
Lawrence bunched his hand in Bastien's hair. This far into the game, he wanted to believe that he knew what he was doing. "You want me to talk like this to you," he whispered against Bastien's lips before biting them playfully.
"Hmm," Bastien purred. "Finally, you caught on. I began to fear that you were not as intelligent as I thought you to be."
"Then do it. Get on your knees for me, and I'll praise you into tomorrow."
That appeared to do it for Bastien. He managed to get out of the bathtub with not so much elegance, but efficiency. Lawrence climbed out, too, and he was barely standing when Bastien knelt in front of him.
That, too, was a good look on the king. He had a lovely mouth that looked perfect wrapped around a cock. No, his cock. Not just any cock. Ghosts, begone.
And he kept his word. Caressing Bastien's head slowly, grabbing him by the back of the neck to steady him from time to time, Lawrence expressed into all the words he knew how much he appreciated having Bastien there, in that position, doing what he was doing.
This time, he didn't warn Bastien ahead of time. They were moving from the unfamiliar to the familiar, at least as far as sex between them went.
Bastien opened his mouth to show him, and Lawrence brushed his fingers slowly against his lips.
"You look amazing like this. Swallow it and show me more," he demanded in a slightly shivering voice.
Bastien didn't wince when he followed the order. Lawrence liked to believe that no one was that great an actor that they could do such a thing with so much gusto without meaning it. He helped Bastien up and kissed him at length until his own taste faded from that lovely mouth.
***
"Do you ever wish for something that's impossible?" Bastien asked, rolled on one side, his head propped in his hand, his arm bent at the elbow. He had wrapped himself in a sheet, making Lawrence feel grateful for it, because the temptation was finally out of the way.
"Like ending world hunger?"
Bastien smiled. "At a smaller scale."
Lawrence could think of a few things. "Do you?"
"Yes. I wish all the Herr Beckers in the world to have never been born. Then I'd be able to keep you here."
"So he checks on you. But you know that he doesn't check on me that often since you are so keen on visiting my splendid quarters so often."
"He does," Bastien confirmed. "That is why I need to leave you before the break of dawn each time."
"What are you going to tell him when he discovers your room empty?"
"That I went for a walk."
Lawrence nodded. "Will he buy it?"
"He has no choice. There are limits to their power."
"Their?"
"Herr Becker never does a thing he's not ordered to. This is the Rector's hand."
"Are they doing the same with everyone or only with you?" Lawrence zipped his jacket, ready to go, as unwilling as he was to do so.
"I am the unlucky bastard they're concentrating on for the time being."
"Since… Lukas?" Ghost or not, Lawrence couldn't tiptoe around him indefinitely.
Bastien nodded slowly.
"Are they worried for your safety? Do they think someone might want to hurt you?"
"I don't know what they are thinking. But mostly, I believe they are only worried I might hurt myself."
"So… were they aware? Of you and Lukas being lovers?"
"There are no secrets at Veridien," Bastien recited as if he was quoting from someone else.
"But there is one," Lawrence reminded him.
Bastien gave him a direct look. "Yes, there is one," he said slowly, not blinking once.
Lawrence waited for two beats. But he knew he wouldn't get more than that. "I'll be on my way. Thanks for the bath," he said, smiling as charmingly as he felt himself capable of being.
"Just the bath?" Bastien asked. He gave Lawrence a coquettish grin.
"No. Not only that. However, I can't be too crude."
"But if you were?" Bastien challenged him.
Lawrence closed the distance between them and caught Bastien's head in his large hands. He looked at the handsome face for a moment and then he kissed the inviting lips. "Thank you for your amazing ass and lovely mouth. They are perfect for my cock."
A shudder passed through Bastien momentarily. "Get out, Bear. If you keep talking like that, I'll end up sequestering you."
"It wouldn't be the worst thing, you know."
"I know. But you're right to worry about us being discovered. I don't want this to end."
There was a wistful note in Bastien's small confession. It echoed in a tiny place inside Lawrence's chest, but he ignored it.
***
Morning came too soon. Lawrence woke by habit and dragged himself to the sink. Losing half a night fucking Bastien wasn't and wouldn't be on his list of regrets, but he needed to whip himself into shape and fast. With all the detours orchestrated by the Golden Circle and the Sun King, he had postponed taking another close look at Lukas's notebook for far too long.
After washing with ice-cold water and rubbing his skin raw, he felt fit enough for the task. The notebook was precisely where he'd left it, to his relief. Though he believed that his hiding place was clever enough to not be discovered easily, he had been away from his room for long stretches of time. Someone on a mission to uncover his secrets could stumble upon it eventually if they searched thoroughly.
If he failed to break Lukas's cypher, he would have to surrender the notebook to his uncle, and he didn't want to do that. The presence of the white oak sketch on the first page intrigued him, just as the closed doors on which the tree in question was carved or painted had intrigued him on his first day at Veridien.
Going through pages and pages of shorthand writing didn't help much. They formed words but they made no sense.
Lawrence picked up the photograph showing Lukas together with Bastien again. Although Bastien wasn't looking at his boyfriend but at the person taking the picture, it was easy to tell he was in love.
The chances were he still was. Lawrence wasn't keen on letting himself be fooled into believing that Bastien's interest in him was more than orchestrated attraction. Seeing the advantages he drew from their closeness, he could name himself an interested party. Any analysis beyond that point would lead nowhere.
He turned the picture over. Lies. Three question marks. Two lines. Pursing his lips, he returned to the first written page. First things first, he needed to try the usual methods, shifting letters, recognizing patterns, and establishing Lukas's cypher. Good thing it was Sunday, and even Herr Becker – presumably – rested for a change. Ali would surely come to drag him to breakfast, but there were hours until then.
Hours he intended to put to good use, such as focusing on his investigation instead of doing the same thing too closely with the main suspect as its object of interest.
Methodically, he translated half of the first page and then picked paragraphs that seemed similar from different parts of the notebook. Whenever he thought that a cluster supported repetition, the next came to contradict him.
His own notes were starting to become lengthy and yielded no results. Blowing air hard through his mouth, Lawrence leaned back and placed his hands on top of his head. That couldn't be right. By now, he should have noticed the first cracks. Lukas was either a genius at inventing a cypher or—
His eyes moved to the picture, left with its face down. The only word written there taunted him. Three question marks. Two lines underneath. If he stared at the arrangement too long, he risked becoming obsessed. Obsession could serve the inquisitive mind, but it could also get it stuck in a loop.
That meant emphasis, without a doubt, but what had Lukas been trying to say? The picture seemed to have been placed there by accident, but if it hadn't been—
Lawrence picked up the photograph again. Lukas's hand had been precise. There had been no frustration in the writing of that single word, no hurt feelings. What seemed like such an emotional choice at first glance, it had to be…
A clue.
It had to be a clue. Lawrence straightened up. Three question marks. They added uncertainty, right? About what? The word?
Lies. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The classical instruction received at Veridien left room for ritual and poetry. On Friday, they had read from Ovid's poems.
What if he was looking at this wrongly? Unless he studied the art of cyphering on his own, Lukas must have felt more inclined to develop a key of his own. And ignoring Lukas's education and background would be a terrible oversight.
So the word was placed under the shadow of doubt.
Lies. Lawrence kept repeating the word in his head until it started losing its meaning. He had to be on a wild goose chase, but he had already tried the usual methods. If he failed, it didn't add anything new to his current level of failure.
He turned the picture over and stared at the two young men again. Lukas's apparent scrutiny, Bastien's eyes, so different here, so full of light—
Eyes. Lies. Eyes. Lies. Eyes.
With eager fingers, Lawrence began going through the words he had already written. They were like water, slipping from his hands.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath. That wasn't it, either. Lukas clearly enjoyed mathematical precision, so this loose approach wasn't working.
Unless. He stared at the back of the picture again. Twice underlined.
Eyes. Eyes. Eyes.
Ice.
Four letters turned four letters turned three letters. Twice transformed.
Lawrence couldn't scribble fast enough. The letters shifted once, adding a new letter. But now… he was staring at real words. Which made sense.
He could barely control his excitement as he returned to the first paragraph of lines and curlicues and translated it again.
It was painstaking work, but results were the hard worker's best reward.
After about fifteen minutes, he almost had the entire paragraph ready. As the words poured from his pen, Lawrence began blinking. It was a strange sensation, to intrude like this upon a person's most intimate thoughts.
Especially such strange, ominous thoughts.
Last night, I dreamed that I was in a city I didn't know. I knew I belonged there, yet every street, every corner, every store, was unfamiliar to me. Some say that having such dreams means that you will die soon.
TBC