41. Kyle

CHAPTER 41

Kyle

W hen Kyle woke up, Master Epsilon was back to business once more.

"I've arranged for us to appear before the Coterie to discuss the Mackenroth issue at 8pm," he said, dressed in a fresh, uncrumpled suit and perched on the edge of the bed while he flicked through whatever he was reading on his runepad. Without looking, he gestured at the mug of coffee – ‘ You put the PRO in inappropriate' – resting on the side table.

How domestic, thought Kyle fondly.

"Drink that. I have a number of off-site engagements for the remainder of the night, so you'll have to-"

Kyle yawned. "Mirror."

Akira's brow furrowed, but he didn't look at him. "There are two clients that you may wish to assign to Ben if he does turn up today, but I expect that-"

" Mirror , pet," reminded Kyle.

He watched as Akira's jaw and throat worked in a way that suggested he was warring with himself, and then the man carefully set the runepad aside and glided over to the full-length mirror.

"I'm safe. I'm a good person. I deserve to be happy."

He recited the words without any of the hesitation he'd begun with yesterday, or the hitches in his voice that the constant repetition had driven away. Then Akira was back at Kyle's side, latching a hand around his throat to pin him to the mattress.

The Master's hair was neatly combed, his mouth cleaned of blood, and his expression was impassively blank. He looked equally as likely to murder him as he did to...

Without letting go of Kyle's neck, Akira leaned down and kissed him.

Kyle melted into it, going boneless on the bed as he savoured everything that was being offered. The gentle brush of lips and the fingers digging ruthlessly into his skin. The minty freshness of Akira's breath and the flutter of eyelashes against his cheek. Their tongues met, insistent and explorative, and by the stars, they were back to kissing. They were back to kissing! Kyle's heart soared.

This wasn't just about his man laying that delectable mouth of his on Kyle's, or the tight, uncompromising way Kyle was being held down while Akira delivered such tenderness in the perfect balance offered by his switch nature. It was a restoration of what they'd had for that brief moment in time before the ghost of another man's name had shattered the illusion. This was Akira's apology, perhaps. At the least, a willingness to try again.

Still, Kyle thought, I should make sure . He couldn't go through that again: his heart only had so much pain left before he expected it would give out entirely.

So when Akira finally drew back with a small, pleased smile on his face, Kyle winced. "Sorry, but I have to ask. Robby? Is that going to be...?"

Akira stared back at him, his face falling.

Kyle shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he in no way felt. "It's just that last time you didn't...I mean, I don't expect you to...just tell me if we can do this?"

Brown eyes flashed fiercely in the gloom above his head.

"We can do this," Akira confirmed. "If you want to."

"I want to," Kyle said so quickly that he feared the words had melded into a single syllable. "But Robby?"

"I deserve to be happy," was all Akira murmured in response, and that was good enough for Kyle. He fisted his hands in the lapels of Akira's suit jacket and pulled him down on top of him, kissing him with every bit of enthusiasm and joy he felt in having him in his arms – not just for a play scene or to get each other off, but for this .

Squirming ineffectively like the cutest little kitten trying to get out of bathtime, Akira squawked something about not getting creases in his suit. Kyle dutifully ignored the protests and prevented him from rising, savouring their closeness as he pressed kisses to every inch of bare skin he could find.

"Wait," he mumbled into Akira's mouth when what the man had said before finally registered. "Did you say we're meeting with the Coterie?"

"Yes," said Akira testily, extracting himself from Kyle's arms and exaggerating the brush off he gave his clothes. "And now I need to get changed."

"You look fine," Kyle assured him. He let his eyes linger on the tight cut of the Master's suit and how the expensive fabric accentuated all the right parts of him, and held out a hand. "More than fine. Come back here so I can admire you from every angle."

Akira tipped his chin in haughty dismissal, playing his usual hard to get self. Now that he'd admitted there could be something between them, Kyle didn't mind.

It would make it even sweeter when he got Akira on his knees for him again, crawling and begging.

"I will not. And you have four minutes to get dressed yourself before we need to leave, although I appreciate that's my error in letting your lazy ass sleep so late."

Kyle offered an uncertain glance at the clothes draped around the room. Mostly leather, interspersed with some fishnet, denim, and his Bon Jovi t-shirt. "I don't think I have anything nice enough for the Coterie," he said quietly. "What with my apartment..."

Akira nodded in brisk agreement when he trailed off, even though they both knew that while his eviction might have considerably reduced Kyle's wardrobe, it hadn't deprived him of anything of quality. Kyle's clothes were as far from Akira's fancy, tailored suits as could be.

"Deacon has the same broad shoulders as you." The Master spoke into his ear as he pushed past, all deep voice and effortlessly sexy. "I'll see if he's left anything here you can wear. We'll get you fitted for something later."

Kyle felt a rush of oddness. Waking up to find Akira in bed with him...sort of, getting a suit of his own, running a House...what the stars was the city coming to?

He yawned and stretched before rolling over to give Havoc a scratch under the chin. Yet despite Akira's bitching, Kyle had showered, pissed, and cleaned his teeth by the time the four allotted minutes were up. He shrugged into the grey turtleneck sweater and black jeans Akira had produced, kissed his man on the cheek because he fucking could , and followed a blinking, slightly flushed Akira outside.

The overhead lights were dimmed in recognition of the late hour but the city was alive with movement and colour. The Pinstripes, the sector in which House Epsilon was located and so named for the actually true joke that at least every second building housed some kind of illegal activity or another, was lit up by neon signs advertising a range of vices. They were careful not to offer anything in the flesh trade, though. Prostitution was only available through the eight Houses as a result of the strict hold the Coterie had over Xerxes, a cartel in all but name.

In Kyle's opinion it was too damned early to be awake, let alone venturing outside, but getting to be with Akira as they strode through the streets was worth all the inconvenience.

Yet they didn't speak for most of the walk to the elevators, and Kyle didn't like it. He had a healthy fear of silences, especially ones that came from Akira, because it usually meant the prick was overthinking something.

"The phobia of long words is called hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia," Kyle said to destroy the silence by any means necessary. "That's one huge fuck you , don't you think?"

"The phobia of..." the Master muttered, trailing off, and then shook his head. "How do you know that? Why do you know that?"

"I figured it's something everyone should know. What if it comes up in conversation?"

Now Akira looked exasperated. "Why would it ever come up in conversation?"

"I think the very fact we're conversing about it now is proof enough," Kyle pointed out.

Was that a smile on the old grump's face? Win .

Kyle carefully threaded their fingers together.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to hold your hand. Is that acceptable?" Kyle teased, but Akira seemed to take it as a question of significant weight, turning it over in his mind before finally giving a short, approving nod.

"Oh look! That stall over there has hot dogs!"

Akira wrinkled his nose. "It's our breakfast time."

"Don't see the issue. Oh, Akira! Aren't these vases cute? A tad macabre with the covering of what looks like human skin, perhaps, but certainly...interesting. And look at the detail on these rune-glasses!"

Kyle pulled him from sight to sight, revelling in the chance to enjoy the city at a time he'd usually be asleep. The night markets caught much of his interest, selling everything from delicious smelling food to little carved figurines...to exotically flavoured condoms that, despite not needing the things with their runed dog tags, Kyle wanted to suggest they both try out immediately . For science.

"Must you be so exuberant?" Akira complained under his breath, although his pleased expression suggested he didn't mind at all. "I feel like I'm being dragged around on a leash."

Kyle shot him a wicked smile. "Maybe I want you on a leash, pet. Would you let me put a collar on you?"

Akira gave him an absolutely blistering look. "In this scenario, it is clearly you who is the puppy," he said loftily, "and I am the hapless owner fearing that my arms may be pulled from my sockets. Are you incapable of walking in a straight line?"

That hadn't been a no to the collar question, Kyle noted with interest.

"Woof," he said, and licked a sloppy wet stripe up the other man's cheek. Epsilon's jaw ticked.

"Don't worry, Master," Kyle whispered into his ear. "I know you're not a puppy. These claws are far too sharp."

He clasped his other hand around where theirs were joined, and patted the man's fingers fondly.

The way Akira hissed petulantly and withdrew his hand, nails extended so they scratched along the fleshy part of Kyle's palm, only made his point for him. Oh, he'd be such a pretty kitty, all feisty and independent and yet a complete slut for snuggles.

And sure enough, Akira's hand found his again a few minutes later. For all his complaining, the man's mouth was quirked into a half-smile, and he kept shooting glances at Kyle as if he couldn't believe that this – getting to revel in each other's closeness, not just in the bedroom but out in the city – was real.

They talked and joked and kissed as they made their way up to Level C, pretending for a moment that they were nothing more than two people in love.

It was easy to forget the threat that the Mackenroths posed when surrounded by the vibrant chaos of Xerxes: music and light pumping from the clubs they passed by, the demanding shouts of hawkers, the barely disciplined bustle of the crowds.

And to Kyle's delight, it was Akira who playfully pulled him back when they reached the steps of the building where the Coterie liked to meet, wrapping his arms around him from behind and nibbling on his neck.

Kyle threw back his head, moving his hands to Akira's hips. He hissed out a sharp breath of exhilaration when the next bite brought a sting of pain, laughing delightedly and rubbing himself up against Akira where he was pressed to his back. Ragged breathing met his ears.

The man seemed to be doing enough damage with his teeth that Kyle wouldn't be surprised if the marks were visible on his skin. Perhaps Kyle could punish him for that by having him muzzled later.

Now that was a thought.

"Considering you're the reason for this inconveniently early meeting, Randall," someone said tetchily from behind them, crisp irritation lacing each syllable, "it would be irresponsible for you to also be the reason for its lateness."

Reluctantly, Kyle dragged his neck away from Akira's insistent teeth and hungry mouth.

"Master Theta," he greeted, turning to face him. He even mustered up some false cheer for the prick, so as to not make Akira uncomfortable.

Yet Theta's scornful expression remained in place and he didn't bother to acknowledge him further. His eyes slid to the man by Kyle's side and shamelessly ran down his body. When he spoke, it wasn't to Akira's face. "Epsilon. Perhaps we could play later, you and I?"

"No," Kyle ground out through gritted teeth, just as Akira said, "perhaps." He ducked his head and gave Theta a shy look up through his long eyelashes.

Humiliation and disappointment broiled in Kyle's gut.

Why was it always the same two steps forward, two steps back with Epsilon? Why was he even surprised anymore?

Smirking, Theta ascended the steps and let himself into the building. Kyle rounded on Akira.

"I'm not going to stop you being with anyone else-"

"Good," Akira said shortly, his mouth thinning. "Because-"

"But not him ," Kyle pleaded. He couldn't stand to see that lifelessness in Akira again, like Theta had scraped out his soul and discarded it as thoughtlessly as he had his abused body.

His boss seemed to deflate at that, some of his iciness sluicing away to leave an expression that looked closer to exhaustion.

"I cannot promise never," he said awkwardly, "for there are...circumstances beyond my control. But I can say that I have no intention of kneeling for Theta anytime soon."

"Then why would you tell him-"

"Kyle, be sensible about this," Akira rebuked. "The Coterie hold your life in its hands. Do you really think snubbing one of its primary members minutes before we ask for their help to be the wisest course of action?"

It was Kyle's turn to deflate.

"Oh," he said, feeling stupid and embarrassed. "But I...I don't want you to have to do anything for, you know. Me."

One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose. "Kyle Randall," Akira drawled. "You truly are something."

He dipped his head to give Kyle an affectionate kiss on the cheek and then glided past him and into the building.

Slightly stunned, Kyle followed.