There was little else Laurence could do but give up on the door for now. The duke would come get him when he wanted to, and now that he had some of Laurence’s saliva he could damn well do whatever he wanted with it.

Laurence gripped his hair and tugged until it hurt, then hurried to Quentin and dropped to his knees beside him.

“Quen?” he breathed. “Baby?”

Quentin didn’t respond, so Laurence settled down onto his ass and gently drew Quentin’s head into his lap. That churn inside Quentin pulled on him, like a vacuum, and in a way it felt comforting.

He ran his fingers gently through Quentin’s hair, from forehead all the way over his crown and down the back of his neck before he lifted away and repeated the motion. There was no way to rush this, and if Quentin had retreated completely it could be a matter of hours before he regained his senses.

Laurence had nothing but time, so he began to sing softly, hand moving slowly, steadily, as he held his lover close.

* * *

Quentin’s body stirred. Laurence could feel the tension stir slowly beneath his hand, and he maintained a steady pace as his song drifted to an end.

“Baby?” He said it as softly as he could. “It’s me. I’m here.”

Quentin sat up, his movements quick and unsteady. He blinked rapidly in the low light and looked around, then his lips parted, and a faint sound of panic seemed to die at the back of his throat.

“Quentin?” Laurence raised his hands, palms toward him. “Baby, look at me. You’re safe. It’s me. Laurence. I’m right here.”

Quentin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his pale eyes fixed on Laurence. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak.

Laurence’s gut lurched. Quentin shouldn’t recognize this place, and even if it triggered him, he’d just black out again. But this half-way state, the way Quentin’s expression flitted between fear and mania… It felt wrong.

“Baby?” he whispered.

Quentin’s pupils widened. “You aren’t to be trusted,” he breathed.

Laurence blinked quickly. “No, no, that was…” He shook his head. “It’s complicated. Do you know where you are?”

Quentin nodded quickly. “I don’t want to be here,” he whimpered in a small voice.

“Yeah, me either, but we’re trapped. Do you remember how you got here?”

Quentin glanced toward the doors, then began to look lost. “I… went to Paris to get Windsor. That was the closest Rufus could send him. Then we…” He trailed off and gnawed on his thumb. “There was a train.”

“It’s okay, baby. It doesn’t matter. Take my hand.” He offered it, palm up.

Quentin eyed the hand like it was going to bite him. “You said not to trust you,” he insisted.

“Then don’t,” Laurence said. “What can I do to you if you take my hand, baby? Nothing. So take it. Please.”

He bit his lip as Quentin stared at the hand for what felt like a full minute, but then those soft fingers slid over his own, and Laurence was startled by how cold they were.

Quentin’s eyes narrowed, then he leaned in. “You’re warm,” he whispered.

“Yeah.” Laurence swallowed.

Why did he feel like a mouse in a room full of cats all of a sudden?

Quentin’s fingers closed around around Laurence’s, and the vortex tugged on Laurence so hard that it made him sway with shock.

Laurence whimpered as the energy tore out of him. It wasn’t ever anything like this. He always felt Quentin’s pull, but this was like struggling to stay afloat on the edge of a whirlpool, and if he lost himself, he would drown, pulled down by an undercurrent that was too strong to resist.

Quentin leaned closer. He raised his free hand to cup Laurence’s cheek. His lips drifted closer until they were only an inch or two away, and his gaze sharpened as he stared into Laurence’s eyes.

Laurence’s thoughts tumbled over one-another in a desperate effort to work out what was happening. What was Quentin doing to him? Why was he doing it?

Would it kill him?

Laurence’s whimpering grew louder. Cold spread from Quentin’s hands and through his body as the warmth and life were drained right out of him. His own energy fought to renew itself. “Quen,” he breathed. “You’re hurting me.”

Quentin’s lips pulled back slightly and for the briefest of moments he looked like he enjoyed the idea of causing Laurence pain.

Laurence’s breath quickened. His skin tingled, and he felt his cock stir. A moan broke free and he leaned in to press his lips to Quentin’s.

Quentin’s fingers splayed across his cheek, then pushed back into his hair and clutched at curls as he bit Laurence’s lip so hard it made Laurence cry out in anguish.

“Oh, Goddess,” Laurence groaned. “Quen. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much. I thought I’d never see you again.”

Quentin growled under his breath, then jerked his head back. He inhaled sharply, and blinked several times.

The vortex calmed, halting its drain on Laurence’s life, returning the the more usual light tug that he always felt in Quentin’s presence.

Laurence swayed a little and clutched at Quentin’s shoulders. He was horny and exhausted and confused and he didn’t know what just happened but he was half convinced he didn’t want it to stop.

“Laurence,” Quentin croaked. His grasp of Laurence’s hair eased slowly. “Oh my god. Laurence!”

“Mmm.” Laurence squeezed Quentin’s shoulders and tried to focus. Now probably wasn’t the time to suggest they got their clothes off.

The flicker of candlelight caught his eye, and he felt suddenly sick.

No. This wasn’t the place to even think about getting naked. Goddess, what the hell had gotten into him?

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I don’t know,” Quentin admitted. “I don’t feel… altogether well, I don’t think.”

“It’s okay.” Laurence backed away a little. “You’re okay.”

Quentin blinked at him, and he frowned. “You have a beard.”

“Yeah.” He could have laughed at the absurdity of it if they weren’t in such a shitty situation. “Yeah I… haven’t had a great time. But you’re here and we’ve gotta find a way out.” Laurence eased to his feet and tried to avoid causing his crotch any further discomfort as he moved.

Quentin nodded and stood. He swayed on his feet briefly, then wreathed his hand in flame and held it aloft.

“Take all the time you need,” Laurence said, his voice hoarse for a moment. “There’s no hurry, baby.”

Quentin blinked as he took in the room. For the moment, at least, he didn’t seem to recognize where he was. “Freddy took you,” he said slowly, as if it was only just coming back to him.

“Yeah. It’s okay.” Laurence winced as he turned his back on the fire. “Your dad made him do it.”

He cursed the words as soon as they were out of him, but when he glanced back toward Quentin nothing bad seemed to have happened.

“How?”

“Eh.” Laurence patted his hair absently. “When Freddy was in San Diego he met Mikey, my dealer. They kinda seem to have fallen in love or whatever, and your dad threatened to ruin Mikey and kill Freddy if your brother didn’t do what he was told. I think your dad got sick of Freddy giving him the runaround every time he told Freddy to get you to go home, and now Freddy actually cares about someone else who isn’t you your dad was able to threaten him. He can’t threaten you. He needs you.”

Quentin huffed as he made his way toward the door. He wrenched on the handle to no avail. “I don’t know what for.”

“Because you can learn magic.” Laurence sighed as he picked his words with care. “Freddy can’t. I think there’s stuff your dad wants to teach you.”

Quentin snorted. “I won’t-”

“I know, baby. And I think your dad’s maybe figuring it out too. But he isn’t gonna take no for an answer.”

Quentin swayed again. The flame around his hand sputtered and died. Something close to panic swam across his features for a moment, and he pressed his back to the doors.

“Baby,” Laurence said. He spoke calmly as he approached Quentin. “I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?”

“Laurence?” His voice sounded so small that it made Laurence’s heart break.

“Yes. It’s me.”

Quentin screwed his eyes shut, and Laurence waited while he counted down.

Goddess, what the hell had the duke done to him?

Freddy had spent all his time and energy on breaking Laurence, but what the hell had happened to Quentin in that time?

Laurence waited until Quentin’s eyes fluttered open. “You okay?”

Quentin hesitated, then gave a small nod.

“Okay. I think your dad’s gone away to kill Freddy. Maybe Mikey too.”

Quentin pushed away from the door, and his face flushed with anger. “What? When?”

“I don’t know. It was a while ago but Freddy’s in Birmingham, and I warded the room he’s in. Mikey’s probably in more danger for now. Either way I think we have some time. We just need to figure out a way out of here.”

With a grimace, Quentin dipped a hand into his jacket and withdrew a new cellphone. He tapped at it, but shook his head. “I’m afraid I have no signal.”

“Yeah. I’m not surprised. Hold on.” Laurence closed his eyes and tried to reach Windsor.

Yes!

A flush of excitement rushed through him. The link was weak, but it was better than none.

We’re trapped, he sent to the bird. You remember the window I broke into the house through?

Yes.

I need you to enter the house through that window. There is a drawer inside which has a magic item. I need you to use the item.

Windsor launched himself into the night sky. Yes. What if it does not work?

Laurence hesitated. Why wouldn’t it?

I am not magic.

He cracked his knuckles and shook his head. Try.

Yes.

He withdrew and opened his eyes, then looked up to Quentin.

“Okay,” he breathed. “The cavalry might be coming.”

Quentin raised an eyebrow. “And if it is not?”

Then we’re fucked. But he didn’t say it. Instead he offered Quentin the most confident smile he could muster.

“We’ll think of something.”