Cold Hands, Warm Heart: steampunk gay romance Page 4

  "No," said Jason, turning his face away even as he let Jess take care of his hand. "It's not that bad, just bleeding a lot."

  Jess made a sound in his throat. "You ought to have help in the kitchen."

  "Oh, they help sometimes, but there's always more to do, and there's always things I want done my way, you know?"

  Jess snorted and shook his head as if he got it. He bandaged the hand carefully, and they didn't speak to one another again for a while.

  The meal was a success; they'd made enough that there were even a few leftovers, though in this household, he doubted any would last through the night. There were too many hungry people in and out all the time.

  Jason discreetly arranged it so that Jess could have a bath and borrow some clothes while they washed his. Then, after working on the dishes, cleaning up the kitchen the best he could, and getting a couple of things prepped for tomorrow — bones cooking on low on the back of the stove, making broth for tomorrow's soup, tough stew meat chunks marinating in vinegar, garlic, oil and herbs, and bread dough rising under clean kitchen towels — Jason headed up to bed.

  Jess was there, waiting for him, looking nervous. He was just finishing drying off his hair, which was still damp and curled even harder now. He looked kind of scared and small and defeated, as if he regretted staying.

  Jason sat down beside him and took his hand. "I meant stay as a friend. I said it, and I meant it. If you want your own bed — if you can settle for a couch somewhere — it can be arranged. I just thought it would be warmer if we stayed together." There were no spare rooms tonight.

  Jess nodded shakily. "I would like to be warm," he said, which was as close as Jason had ever come to hearing him admit what a bad place he was in right now.

  They climbed into bed together, lots of quilts over top of them, and turned off the light. They lay there gingerly next to one another, quiet, breathing in the silence.

  He had the sudden certain feeling, without knowing how he knew, that Jess's heart was breaking. In the warm bed, trying so hard not to move and disturb his host, thinking of the man he really wanted and how wrong his life had gone — his heart was breaking. He was glittering and tough on the street, but now he was warm and fed and safe, and the hurt was just oozing off him.

  Jason made a sound in his throat. "Jess," he said softly. "Can I put my arms around you?"

  "All — all right," said Jess in a shaky voice that told Jason he'd been right. He moved closer hesitantly.

  "Come here," said Jason gently, and pulled the slender, hard-muscled man into his arms. Jess smelled clean and felt tense and tearful. Jason cuddled him close, kissed the side of his face, and stroked his hair back. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "Just let me know how to be the friend you need."

  Jess let himself be held, breathing roughly. Soon he held onto Jason in return. "I want him so bad and he just doesn't know I exist," said Jess brokenly. "He only wants Harry."

  "I know how it is," said Jason softly.

  "Who?" said Jess, stilling. "Your boss?"

  He snorted softly. "Harrold — the doctor."

  Jess was silent a moment. "Oh. He is pretty."

  "Thanks." He sighed, a hopeless sound. "I feel so foolish, and yet I can't stop wanting him. I don't know why."

  "Yeah," agreed Jess softly, fervently.

  He understood perfectly.

  They fell asleep after a while, comforted by the warmth and closeness, the intimacy of talking softly in the dark and holding onto a sympathetic body.

  #

  After that, Jess helped Jason in the kitchen. It was barely spoken about, but he stayed and helped. He was excellent at following Jason's gruff, grunted directions, falling into step with him in the kitchen, helping with the lifting and peeling and scrubbing. It was difficult, hot, heavy, and taxing work, especially when everyone was in and out of the kitchen all day, eating or chatting or working on things at the table.

  They worked steadily most of the day through, preparing meals and cleaning up after them. Jason found it was excellent to have help who didn't seem intent on annoying him. Jess also didn't demand conversation, something Jason was not adept at on the best of days. They worked in silence for the most part.

  Jess took Helena's measure pretty quickly and kept an eagle eye on the little girl, didn't her steal as many ingredients out from under their noses. She was a scamp, and delighted in the attention from getting into trouble — so they refused to report her to Graeham and instead dealt with it themselves whenever they could, largely by chasing her out of the kitchen when she was in a naughty mood, and snatching stolen things from her hands before she got away.

  In a way, Jason didn't begrudge her the difficulty she made. She enjoyed the attention, and Jess was good with her — good at catching her and stopping her without actually hurting or scaring her. It was better she get out any naughtiness inside herself here at home than on the streets, where she could be in real danger and get in trouble with the law. As it was, she sometimes snuck things and got away with it, but most of the time, they kept her from being too outrageous with her thefts.

  After the first few days, Jess was part of the family. He ate there, he helped in the kitchen, and he slept in Jason's bed. They didn't talk about it much, but even after the guests had mostly moved on and the spare rooms hadn't yet filled up again, Jess stayed with Jason, in his bed.

  It was warm and friendly, and comfortable to have someone to hold. Jason let himself be tender with Jess in bed, after that first night when it had felt good for them both. He drew him close for a chaste kiss and cuddle on the cold nights when they didn't both drop off instantly. It felt good to have someone to hold, and Jess trusted him. They were gentle with each other.

  Of course, they soon started having sex, too, which was another reason not to have separate beds. It was nothing complicated or athletic: just hands and skilled touches and sometimes rubbing together, getting one another off with a minimum of fuss.

  Jason was ashamed of himself the first time their friendly nighttime routine turned sexual — fingers stroking lower, hands growing possessive and mouths finding places to kiss that weren't quite so chaste.

  "It's all right," said Jess softly, kissing him back. "It's all right."

  "You know we don't have to," said Jason, his voice trembling a little, because Jess had very nice hands that seemed to know what they were doing, and were doing it very generously to his cock. "Don't feel you have to."

  Jess gave a soft laugh and touched him even more firmly. "I don't," he said quietly.

  "It's all right," he repeated again when Jason finished, biting back his cry and feeling wet and sick and ashamed of himself at the same time he felt good and clean and happy.

  "It's all right," said Jess gently.

  It was odd to feel both ways, but Jason had always had that: the shame of hiding his body and wants, trying to resist but never quite able to. It was no different with someone else.

  He hated for anyone to see his face afterwards, or even to look at himself in the mirror. Even taking care of his own needs still made him ashamed sometimes. It was confusing. He had been a farm boy who wanted so much to be good, and yet was horny and couldn't stop touching himself. It was no easier in the army, and so hard to find privacy even for that.

  "Do you mind, for me?" asked Jess softly, guiding Jason's hand to his own hard cock. "If you mind, just say so. I won't insist. It would just feel good to have somebody else's hand on me for once."

  "Yeah," said Jason. "It's fine." He touched carefully, stroking firmly, giving Jess the best one-handed hand job he could. He was gentle but firm, and it didn't take long to bring Jess off.

  Jess bit back his cry as he writhed a little more, biting his lip, closing his eyes, his face holding anguish and pleasure all at once.

  "Jason," said Jess softly, after he had stopped panting. "If you have a handkerchief, I can clean us both up."

  "No need," said Jason stiffly. He'd already started cleaning himself up, and ha
nded the rag awkwardly to Jess afterwards. The room smelled of sex, but it was too cold to open the window. "For what it's worth, I really didn't invite you here for this."

  Jess looked at him shyly, and Jason looked away.

  "It's all right," said Jess. Hs gave a bitter little laugh. "I know who you want — and who I want. It's okay. This isn't the world's next great love affair, but it also doesn't have to be something shameful. We helped each other get off. And excuse me, but if I end up staying with you, I'd like to keep doing that. But don't make me into a reason to feel bad. Just…do what feels right for you. Okay?"

  He stretched out, arms over his head. He looked very handsome in the low lighting, debauched and pretty and worldly-wise, not hard-hearted but rather just practical and kind.

  "Okay?" he repeated.

  Jason nodded, looking away again. He still couldn't bear to be looked at.

  "Do you want to put your arms around me and go to sleep?" prompted Jess.

  "Okay." Jason moved closer, turned the light off again, and tugged Jess close. It felt good to have someone to hold, and sex and the hard day's work had worn him out; he fell asleep almost immediately.

  #

  Jess left the room quietly whenever Jason had a chance to be alone with his doctor, even for a few minutes only. And Jason never remarked on Jess's occasional absences, and the way he returned sad and resigned and heartbroken, no doubt from visiting his dear friend Carl.

  Jason didn't know what Jess saw in the older man that was worth breaking himself up over. Carl was very nice in his way, but he didn't seem like the sort of man someone would have a heartbreaking, unshakable longing for. He seemed more like a normal, nice guy who was lonely and sad and friendly. Not gorgeous, not the kind of guy a person couldn't get out of their head and heart — except clearly he was for Jess.

  Jess brought over his canvas bag and few belongings, and quietly washed and put the things away, settling in.

  After a couple of weeks, he reluctantly accepted a small salary from Graeham, in addition to his room and not-inconsiderable board.

  He ate almost constantly as they worked, that mechanicalized metabolism driving his hungry and exhausted frame to fill itself on whatever was handy. He ate strips of raw potatoes, any leftovers he found, and spare ingredients whenever they had them. Jason even took a break now and then from whatever he was doing to fry eggs for Jess, because he knew Jess, who was perfectly capable of doing so, wasn't going to fry his own. He ate at the edges of things, leftovers, things that people left out to be used up — and anything Jason cooked for him, absolutely anything.

  He would sometimes stand by Jason's elbow, watching the eggs fry with a single-minded hunger, waiting, watching, and wanting. He never said a word while he ate. He gave his food utter concentration.

  After a time, he seemed less thin, although not a great deal less. He was not starving to death, but he was also not going to put on weight easily, since his body burned fuel fast just keeping him alive.

  At night, Jason soothed and comforted him, as much for himself as for Jess. They both liked it — holding and being held, kissing and cuddling and making out, and then helping each other to climax with easy strokes and careful hands.

  Jason preferred when they could keep the lights out so he felt less ashamed of himself. Jess was gentle with him, didn't push him to stop feeling bad, just treated him carefully.

  They were gentle with each other during the day as well. Working side by side, Jason would sometimes reach out and give Jess a stroke down the back, or rub a hand roughly yet tenderly over his hair. Jess leaned against him once in a while, just lightly, or gave him a nudge with his shoulder.

  Jason kissed him once in the cellar, when he found Jess down there looking particularly unhappy. He kissed him and held him close for a minute, and they both closed their eyes. Then he opened his eyes, sighed, let Jess go, and helped him carry the potatoes upstairs.

  It was a neverending stream of food through the kitchen. But the work was easier with Jess's help, and the nights were warmer sharing the bed with him, less lonely, and Jason and Jess fell into a routine that felt comfortable and safe.

  Kissing Jess felt easy and good, a little distraction and a comfort to them both, and he liked doing it when they were alone, running his hands gently here and there, kissing tenderly and intently till Jess seemed happy and distracted and hungry for more.

  Sometimes he spent so much time kissing, Jess started to squirm and complain a little, wanting more, faster. Jason was good at making him wait, found it amusing that Jess could be so impatient.

  After about a month he used his fingers inside Jess, because it made Jess feel very good when he stroked just the right spot. He learned the man's spots, the ones that made him feel really good. He enjoyed, with a kind of smug satisfaction, being the one to set him off, causing a wild desperation in Jess that hadn't been there at first.

  For himself, Jason was content with a hand job and some kissing and cuddling. He didn't enjoy having his body explored too closely most of the time, although in the dark he didn't mind Jess's hands going where they wanted, sensitive and tactile.

  He spent a great deal of his time kissing Jess, letting out his tender, touchy side, letting his mouth have free reign to explore and be gentle, to kiss here and there, to comfort.

  Jess never complained about being cuddled. He felt safe in Jason's big arms, enjoyed the closeness. Sometimes he hid his face against Jason's chest and groaned when it was time to get up, to leave his arms.

  Jason even started to miss him on the nights he went away to stay with Carl. It was odd, because he wanted Jess to be happy, but he began to dread those nights, because Jess always came back afterwards so miserably unhappy, and it took time for them to settle back into a comfortable routine. He was as gentle as he could be when Jess was low, considerate about putting Jess's pleasure first.

  They rarely talked during intimacy. But Jess was so expressive nonetheless. Jason liked bringing that out in him, making him feel good instead of as awful as he'd felt for so long.

  Neither of them went back to the fights. They just didn't feel the need right then. Jason mentioned them to the boss, but in a low-key way, telling him what he knew frankly but not presuming to guess more. That it was connected with betting he knew; what else might be going on there he didn't.

  Jess said that he'd been paid, if not much, and the food and cash had made it worth it to him. But he was a practical man, and it wasn't worth it to him right now. He stayed home. He chopped potatoes. He touched Jason in bed.

  And the days passed into weeks, into months, into seasons. Jess and Jason, always together, comforting each other quietly and working hard together. No one commented, remarked, scolded, or teased. Nobody really cared.

  But Jason noticed, and started to care very much, when he realized his heart wasn't fluttering half so much around the doctor — when he found his day was no longer dark and grim when Harrold was gone, but only slightly less bright.

  And sometimes, when Jess looked up at him from under those dark lashes, his gaze quiet and intent, Jason didn't think about Harrold at all.

  #

  The injured man eventually found a job in the countryside — through Graeham, of course, and probably only because of his son. The two apparently stayed vague about the mother's whereabouts; still, he finally deigned to accept a helping hand from Graeham's connections, but only because he wanted a better chance for his son.

  Graeham's children were a handful at the best of times, although he did his best by them.

  Helena, as the youngest and newest, was getting into egregious trouble now, trouble impossible to hide from the boss; he even caught her at it one day when Jess and Jason were busy in the kitchen.

  She stole a whole handful of butter, instead of taking any of the things she could've rightly taken, and would've enjoyed much more.

  Graeham was shocked, and talked to her for a long time. After that, she had to start doing chores in the kitche
n, which were not particularly helpful, but at least meant she caused less trouble. She seemed to improve a bit after that.

  Jess and Jason went to market together sometimes now, and the little girl tagged along when she could. When she wasn't stealing and being naughty, she wanted to be friends. She wanted one of them to carry her on his shoulder at all times — until she immediately wanted down, and would writhe around in an attempt to get down on her own if they weren't fast enough. She particularly liked to perch on Jason's shoulder, since he was so tall.

  "I can see the whole world!" She stretched her arms out like she was flying.

  Jason's mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh at her.

  One of her feet kicked his chest accidentally, and he winced. Jess caught her ankle and held it still. "No kicking, now," he said.

  "Yeah, yeah. He's so tall! I wanna be this tall when I grow up!"

  She would probably be the size of Jimmy, if she were lucky. They'd had similar early lives, and even with regular meals, she'd shown no signs of growth spurts. But she was learning to read, to behave at least a little bit, and the boss was endlessly patient with her. Her life would not be terrible.

  "Don't we all," said Jess with a little grin at Jason. It was kind of cute, almost like he was admiring Jason.

  He enjoyed the implied compliment, and stood a little taller for it.

  #

  Jess's fingers fumbled and a potato slipped, plunk, into the sink, sending a little wave of water splashing up at him. "Shit." He blinked, looking furious, and wiped savagely at his shirt.

  "What's the matter?" asked Jason, looking over at him. "You're all right." He pushed a towel into Jess's hands.

  Jess's mouth tightened as he scrubbed at the dark wet stain spreading on his front, angry and too fast.