Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

The highlightof Sawyer’s day was his brief phone conversation with Casper. Even though Casper had sounded exasperated and uncertain of things he should have been confident about. Sawyer felt deeply guilty for pulling focus from a man who probably had more to offer the university and the world than most of the people walking the earth. But just hearing the sound of Casper’s voice and falling into that easy sort of conversation with him, even if the topic was unhappy, made him feel like all would be right with the world.

The rest of his day was miserable by comparison. Rebecca had done a good thing by making a statement on his behalf, but evidently, the cadre of press who interviewed him at his photo shoot and at the mini-junket for Start at the Beginning that he had to run to once that nonsense was done hadn’t gotten the message that he didn’t want to talk about his personal life.

He’d had to sit through a dozen questions that seemed custom-designed to goad him into talking about sex and dating and his relationship status. They weren’t kind or polite questions either. The sense of entitlement that the press had was appalling, and if it wasn’t for years of training that enabled him to keep a smile on his face and an easy manner as he answered questions, Sawyer would either have broken down in tears or shouted in rage at the violation of his personal life.

It hadn’t helped one bit that one of the interviewers at the mini-junket had asked him about “set shenanigans” during After the War filming. The interviewer was doggedly determined to pry stories of late-night bedroom-hopping and behind the scenes mischief, not just for him, but for the entire cast and crew. The man had gone at it like someone was considering a reality program about the sex lives of actors in Regency costumes.

Whatever the case, Sawyer had no intention of feeding that sort of gossip beast. Ever. Even when the interviewer hinted that, if Sawyer played his cards right and spilled the tea, he could end up as the headliner of After the War. The most frustrating part of the entire debacle was that Sawyer was meant to be promoting Start at the Beginning, and the co-stars from that film, who he’d liked and gotten along with before, and who were sitting right there with him during the junket as the inappropriate questions were asked, had clearly resented the distraction from their work.

It was all too much, and as Sawyer returned to the Chameleon Club after midnight, he felt as if he was carrying a sack of boulders on his shoulders. At least the night concierge, or whatever The Brotherhood called the man sitting behind the security desk by the club’s front door at one in the morning, let him in at once and without question.

Sawyer nodded to the man, then slumped his way through the foyer and on to the long, echoey, marble hallway that led past a few sitting rooms and the grand ballroom-slash-dining room to the stairs that would take him up to Casper’s suite.

Halfway down the hall, he paused at the open entrance to the ballroom. Everything was dark, but security lights cast a dim glow over the dozens of round tables where members of the club came to enjoy meals or conduct meetings. The buffet tables on one side of the room were empty, and the small dais at the far end where a band sometimes set up to entertain the club was vacant, the few mic stands and chairs left in place looking like skeletons in the dim light.

The only lifelike detail in the entire room was the glass case containing a large, stuffed chameleon that sat on the mantel of the large fireplace. The chameleon, George, had small museum lights shining on it, and Sawyer had the feeling that George was keeping watch over all of them.

Sawyer wasn’t certain why, but he felt drawn into the room and over to George. His footsteps echoed with a lonely click at he crossed the cavernous room, making him feel like he was a part of something that stretched back into the hallowed halls of time.

“What do you think I should do?” he asked George once the two of them were face to face.

Casper had told him the story of how George had existed in the Chameleon Club even before it was a club, how the patron and founder of The Brotherhood, George Copeland, Marquess of Wilmore—a randy devil who had more young lovers than there were gems in the Crown Jewels—had sent his favorite lovers on scavenger hunts as part of the terms of his will, and how those quests had ended with the grand, Georgian house on Park Lane being bequeathed to them all as a refuge and social club. George the Chameleon had been the hiding place of the final clue that had made his namesake’s ultimate wishes clear.

Sawyer, like so many men before him, felt as though he were consulting the founder himself by addressing the two-hundred-year-old stuffed lizard.

As if George had answered him, Sawyer followed the lizard’s line of sight. It seemed to be watching the door to the kitchens.

“Hmm. Good idea,” Sawyer said, pretending seriousness. “I barely had time for supper earlier, and I’m starving. It’s always easier to think after a sandwich. Thank you, George.”

He smiled and reached up to pat the side of George’s case, as if patting the lizard himself, then headed across the ballroom again, grinning to himself over how easily he’d fit into The Brotherhood life and how safe he felt within the walls of the Chameleon Club. But then, if everything Casper had told him about the place and its history was true, that was the entire point of the club.

He was still smiling when he quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside. He was certain the kitchen of the Chameleon Club was as off-limits in the middle of the night as the kitchen at Wodehouse Abbey, and even though he felt far more secure where he was now, he still didn’t want to get caught.

Of course, the second he opened the door enough to poke his head into the dim room, he found Casper sitting at the long metal table that ran through the center of the room, illuminated by a single light over the sink off to his side. Casper appeared to be eating ice cream, and at the sight of Sawyer’s head, he froze with his spoon halfway to his open mouth and a look of alarm on his face.

He was beautiful. Everything in Sawyer’s soul felt so right at the sight of him. Casper was in his pajamas, wrapped in a toweling robe, his hair sticking up at odd angles, as if he’d tried to sleep, tossed and turned a bit, then given up and come downstairs for a snack. He flushed a delicious shade of pink at the sight of Sawyer, and even though he maintained his shocked expression, his eyes went all soft and warm.

“Out of bed after curfew, are we, Dr. Penhurst,” Sawyer said in his best headmaster voice, stepping all the way into the room.

“I was waiting up for you,” Casper said, lowering his spoon into his bowl. “Gosh, you’re home late.”

Everything about those words made Sawyer feel as if every trial he’d had to endure and every nightmare that celebrity brought with it meant nothing. He couldn’t help but smile broadly as he walked over to stand beside Casper. He just wanted to look at the gorgeous man and feel better. Leaning in to kiss his slightly chilly, sugary lips was almost an afterthought.

“Everything ran so late,” he said, trying not to whine.

Then again, if he was going to whine to anyone, it would be Casper. And Casper would probably be sympathetic.

Not probably. Casper was sympathetic.

“Here, have a seat. You look like you need some ice cream, too,” he said, slipping off his stool and offering it to Sawyer.

Sawyer shook his head. “I barely ate any supper,” he said. “I was really hoping for a sandwich.”

“That can also be arranged,” Casper said with a smile, heading for the fridge.

Sawyer walked with him. The club’s kitchen was three times the size of the kitchen at Wodehouse Abbey and contained all of the equipment needed to run a large restaurant. There were two fridges and a door over to the side that Sawyer was reasonably certain led to a walk-in fridge or freezer. Casper knew where he was going and what he was looking for, though, and took out sandwich meat and mayo from the fridge.

“Bread is just over there,” he said, pointing to one of the many counters around the room. “Is there anything else you want?”

Sawyer shook his head as he grabbed the bread. “Just for the whole world to stop being so obsessed with other people’s lives,” he sighed.

Casper laughed, somehow making the sound sympathetic. They met up again at the table, where they sat side-by-side as Sawyer made his sandwich. “After my interview this morning, I definitely know how you feel,” he said.

“Again, I’m sorry about that,” Sawyer said, wincing. “I hope I didn’t cause more harm than good.”

Casper shrugged and picked up his ice cream spoon again. “It’s a natural human reaction to be interested in gossip and to follow the lives of people who are deemed special,” he said, then took a bite of ice cream. Once he’d swallowed, he went on with, “Celebrity has always been a thing, whether it was Roman gladiators who gained a following or medieval Christian martyrs who inspired cults of followers. Idolizing people who are seen as special or gifted or touched by God is just what humans do.”

“I don’t feel particularly touched by God,” Sawyer said. “Though my mum would probably say differently.” He gasped and put down the finished sandwich that he’d just picked up. “Oh God! My mum! She called me earlier and left a voice message, but I was in the middle of an interview. I never called her back.”

More feelings of sweeping guilt pressed down on Sawyer.

Casper swallowed a bit of ice cream, his eyes going wide, and said, “Is she alright? Do we need to go over there and help her? Have your father or your brother upset her?”

“No, nothing like that,” Sawyer sighed, picking up his sandwich again. “She was worried about me, actually. She said everything had returned to normal in the house, Dad and Kenny had gone to work, Derek had called her to complain about his wife, and that she wished I’d come home.”

Casper seemed visibly relieved. “As long as she’s alright.”

Sawyer made a sound meant to convey that “alright” was a relative term and started in on his sandwich.

It might have been well past midnight, they probably shouldn’t have been loitering in the Chameleon Club’s kitchen, eating club food, and knowing there were security guards awake in the building was unnerving, but Sawyer felt the crust of the cares that had stuck to him all day peeling off and dropping away just being there with Casper.

With that feeling of peace and contentment came some of the thoughts he’d had throughout the day, though. When he was halfway through his sandwich, he said, “I like this so much more than acting.”

“What?” Casper asked, scraping the last of his ice cream from the bottom of his bowl. “Sneaking into a kitchen in the middle of the night and eating a sandwich?”

“Yes,” Sawyer laughed, leaning his arm against Casper’s. “Sneaking around with you.”

Casper leaned into him as well, and the two of them smiled at each other. Their mouths were so close, but Sawyer didn’t feel any urge or pressure to kiss him and perform.

“There’s a huge part of me that really does want to give it all up,” he said wistfully.

Casper tightened and pulled back in alarm. “What, this? Us?”

“God, no!” Sawyer said, putting his sandwich aside and swiveling to face Casper. “You’re the only thing I actually want right now. But I want to keep you sheltered from all this invasive crap that people are throwing at me. I don’t want to be part of this mad celebrity world anymore if it interferes with what we have.”

Casper relaxed a little, but he still looked troubled. “It’ll all blow over,” he said. “You love acting. You’ve told me several times. You can’t give it up.”

Sawyer grimaced. “I think I could still act without being a star,” he said. “Plenty of people do.”

“But don’t you love the doors that are opened to you now?” Casper asked shifting so that their knees bumped against each other. He rested a hand on the side of Sawyer’s face. “You do enjoy it a little, love,” he said. “If you didn’t, you would have bolted ages ago. You’d be painting houses with your dad.”

Sawyer huffed a laugh and glanced down. He pressed his cheek into Casper’s hand, feeling so much safer with Casper holding him.

A sudden, dangerous thought poked at him, filling him with a combination of excitement and dread. He glanced up and met Casper’s eyes.

“Do you ever want to fuck me?” he asked.

Casper blinked and lowered his hand. “Is this a trick question?” he asked, his voice low and rich with desire.

Sawyer shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. Or maybe I feel something more that I’d like to explore.”

Casper eyed him sharply. “Do you?”

Did he? Sawyer had no idea how to answer the question. He loved Casper, he was certain of it. He felt safe enough with Casper to try things he’d never wanted to try before. But he also had the deep, gnawing feeling that he would lose all the good things he had if he didn’t push himself to do more, to be more for his love.

If he didn’t overcome his fears, Casper would leave him for someone who could give him more.

“I want you to be happy,” he said at last, his breath gusting out and his hands shaking a little. “I want to be enough for you.”

“Darling,” Casper said, leaning in and kissing him briefly. “You are more than enough for me.”

The words and the sentiment behind them were beautiful, but Sawyer had spent all day being hounded by people who had implied he wasn’t really in a relationship unless they were having sex morning, noon, and night.

“Are you certain?” he asked, standing so he could slide his arms around Casper, sandwich forgotten.

“So certain,” Casper said, pulling him close and slanting his mouth over Sawyer’s.

There was more fire in their kiss than had been in any previous kisses. It was a lot, and it had Sawyer’s heart beating a mile a minute, but it wasn’t bad. It was the sort of excitement that came with the first, huge ascent of a roller-coaster, knowing that exhilaration waited once the zenith was reached.

He was never going to grow as a person, grow into the person Casper needed him to be, if he didn’t let the roller-coaster take him on its mad and terrifying journey.

“Do you want to go upstairs and fool around a little?” he asked breathlessly.

Casper inched back to study Sawyer, his eyes filled with desire and need. He took his time, like he was trying to figure out if Sawyer really meant it or if he was being led into doing something he didn’t want to do.

He must have been convinced, because he breathed out, “Absolutely,” and slipped off his stool, grabbing Sawyer’s hand.

“Shouldn’t we clean up our mess?” Sawyer asked with a laugh, looking back at his half-eaten sandwich and Casper’s empty ice cream bowl. At least they’d put the things that needed it back in the refrigerator.

“Later,” Casper said. “We’ve got things to do now.”

Sawyer laughed as the two of them ran, hand in hand, through the ballroom. That sound and the sound of their footsteps echoed in the night-hollow room. Sawyer could have sworn he saw George winking at him from his perch above the fireplace.

They made it upstairs to Casper’s suite without being caught or interrupted. As soon as they were safe inside, the door closed and locked, and made it to Casper’s bedroom, Casper turned and pulled Sawyer into his arms again for another, searing kiss.

The very few times Sawyer had found himself in a similar situation, he’d freaked out and bolted. That same energy was there again, but instead of making him want to run, it fed his need for more. He kissed Casper back breathlessly, trembling as Casper tugged his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, then spread his hands across the bare skin of Sawyer’s sides.

“Is this alright?” Casper asked between kisses.

Sawyer nodded, too stimulated for words, and reached for the tie of Casper’s robe.

“If it gets to be too much, tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” Casper said.

“I…I don’t think I want you to stop,” Sawyer said, equal parts panic and desire. “I don’t know what to do, though. I’ve never…do we need condoms and lube and all that stuff.”

Casper laughed softly, pulling Sawyer’s shirt up over his head. “No, we won’t need any of that. We don’t have to fuck to make love.”

Sawyer felt like an idiot for not getting that sooner. He still wasn’t certain he got it entirely. Wasn’t that what sex was all about? Banging and tops and bottoms and all that? He was embarrassed over how little he knew about sex at his age.

Casper, at least, knew what he was doing. He shrugged out of his robe once he had Sawyer shirtless, then tugged off his own T-shirt. Then he stepped into Sawyer to kiss him again, bringing their naked torsos into contact.

It was entirely different than kissing someone when fully clothed. The intimacy of the moment had Sawyer’s head spinning, but he loved it. He forced himself to be brave and to touch Casper the way instinct told him to touch as they kissed softly and sweetly.

He liked it. He loved the feeling of Casper’s body heat and the soft brush of his chest hair. He’d had to wax all his off for a shirtless scene in After the War, but he liked the sensual feeling of Casper’s hair, especially against his nipples.

“Are you ready for more?” Casper asked, panting slightly, as he dropped one hand to take Sawyer’s.

Sawyer nodded. “Yes. Just tell me what to do.”

Casper kissed him again, then turned to pull the covers on his bed down. He tugged Sawyer towards him, then reached for the fastenings of his jeans.

“We’ll just kiss and touch and get each other off for now,” he said. “And if that feels like too much, we’ll stop, cuddle, and sleep.”

“You’re sure you don’t want more?” Sawyer asked, trembling as Casper unzipped his jeans. His brain might have been hesitant about what they were doing, but his cock certainly wasn’t. It was just about to burst free of his briefs as Casper pushed his jeans down around his hips.

Casper glanced up at him from where he’d been watching his work. “I just want you,” he said, leaning in for another kiss.

It seemed silly, but that reassurance opened the floodgates for Sawyer. He wanted this. The fears and guilt and fraught emotions he’d always associated with sex and the things other men wanted from him drifted away, and he was able to push his jeans down the rest of the way, then, after a quick, deep breath, slip out of his briefs.

Casper must have sensed some of his anxiety, because he ditched his pajama bottoms as Sawyer got naked so that they were both exposed and vulnerable together.

For a second, Sawyer had to pause and look. Not just at Casper, although the sight of Casper’s thick shaft and tight balls was amazing and sexy as hell, but at seeing his own erection right there with Casper’s. It was something he’d never thought he’d see, but he loved it.

He loved it even more when Casper reached for him and gently stroked his hand over his cock and around his glistening cockhead. Sawyer sucked in a breath at the burst of pleasure that hit him.

“You okay?” Casper asked.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said breathlessly. He glanced up to meet Casper’s eyes again and winced. “I’m not going to last.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Casper said, tugging Sawyer over to the bed and slipping between the sheets with him. “Just feel it. It doesn’t matter if you last thirty minutes or thirty seconds.”

“Are you sure?” Sawyer gasped, swamped by so many feelings as they stretched out, side by side, facing each other.

“I’m very sure,” Casper said.

He circled his arm around Sawyer to bring their bodies into full contact, then leaned in for another kiss.

Sawyer fought the raging self-consciousness that tried to yank him out of the moment as he kissed Casper back and let his hands explore his lover’s body. He should have learned to do all this in school, not in his thirties. Casper probably thought he was ridiculous. He’d start laughing at any second and push Sawyer out of bed.

That didn’t happen. Instead, Casper reached between them, touching Sawyer’s balls and stroking his cock so gently that Sawyer felt his impending orgasm surge to life. He didn’t stop there, either. He left his touching for a moment to find Sawyer’s hand and to guide it between their bodies as well.

It was so simple, probably too simple, but Casper showed him without words how to touch and stroke, and in no time, the two of them were panting and straining and moaning as they gave each other pleasure. It was a far cry from the porn Sawyer had watched and the expectations that had been heaped on him, but it was so good.

It only took a few minutes for Sawyer to gasp, “Oh God, I’m coming!” before his body reacted to the intimacy and sent seed spilling over both their hands. It was thrilling and amazing and embarrassing all at once, and Sawyer had never experienced pleasure like it before. He’d never come with another man until Casper.

He wished the sensation could last so much longer, but too soon, the pleasure ebbed, giving way to uncomfortable feelings of shame and guilt, knowing he must have looked like a fool.

But just as he opened his mouth to issue a whole string of apologies, Casper let out a tight moan that resolved into a sound of deep pleasure as more warm wetness spread between them.

Sawyer was amazed. He’d done that. He’d gotten Casper off. He was desirable enough to do that to another man, and it had been wonderful.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Casper panted, smiling, before hooking his hand behind Sawyer’s head and drawing him close for a kiss. “You were wonderful, you are wonderful,” he added, before kissing him again.

Sawyer believed him. He kissed Casper back, his heart full to bursting. Maybe he wasn’t the greatest lover in the world, but he was awake now. He couldn’t imagine rushing into porn-level sexual gymnastics, but if Casper was satisfied with small moments of greatness like they’d just had, maybe he would be enough after all.