The next week dragged on.

This was the part of the con that Patrick had never enjoyed: the set up. For as much as he wanted to make sure that the set up was perfect, he hated the long wait as he settled himself into a role and ensured that his presence, wherever it was, was normal so that no one would second-guess it if, say, he was in a person’s office or behind the counter or in the security room. It was necessary, crucial in fact, but it was also incredibly mundane.

Even Will couldn’t fully dissipate the feeling of waiting and boredom, although he was making it more bearable than usual. Patrick set him up at his friend Mallory’s apartment, but was careful to only have Will meet him at the hotel rather than the other way around unless it was late at night and people couldn’t see. It would make a certain amount of sense if a casino employee were to be seen meeting up with one of his coworkers at a hotel near the casino, but for that same coworker to head back to the employee’s apartment every night? That would raise questions and gossip that they couldn’t afford.

Will seemed to be doing well in his job as a casino dealer. Patrick had befriended one of the managers, who had gotten Will the job after Patrick had spun a tale about Will being a friend who was down on his luck after being kicked out of his home by his asshole father back in England and so wanted a complete change of pace. The manager had accepted this story easily enough, especially when Will showed up all smiles and easy jokes and charm. Patrick was pretty sure the manager was straight but it seemed that no gender or sexuality was immune to Will’s charm, everyone falling a bit in love with him, from the tailor to the coffee shop girl.

It made Patrick feel a little possessive, actually. When the woman at the sandwich shop told Will how sharp he looked that day, or one of the other casino dealers told Will that he talked like James Bond, Patrick wanted to cram right up into Will’s space and glare at the person, make it clear that Will was spoken for, thanks, so get your greedy gaze off of him.

Except that Will wasn’t spoken for, and Patrick had no business feeling envious if someone flirted with Will when he couldn’t. Patrick had instituted that no-sex rule for a reason. Will would probably learn soon enough that you couldn’t get into business with people you were also dating, but Patrick wasn’t going to be the one to teach him that painful lesson.

Although Patrick was now teaching himself a lesson—in not going crazy from sexual tension.

When he’d been playing the cards while Will dealt up in the hotel room, he had gone into the zone. He had been completely concentrated on playing those five different characters, on making each one of them as real as possible, as if he really was at a casino table. There had been this camaraderie, two conmen trying to outdo the other, and he’d loved it. Also, the way Will had looked at him afterwards, his eyes the color of a stormy ocean and full of wonder…like Patrick was someone amazing…it had made a crackle of electricity shoot up Patrick’s spine. He wanted to do anything to get Will to look at him like that again, to look at him like that all the time.

That moment hadn’t exactly happened again, but Will had continued to skirt along the edges of the boundaries that Patrick had set. He’d bump their shoulders together, or brush their feet against each other under the table, or lean in just a little too close, his eyes dancing and blue like he knew he was overstepping the line and didn’t care.

And whenever Patrick got cranky with him, he just took it in stride. Patrick knew he was an ass. He’d been a bit prickly even when Aunt Laura was alive, but afterwards it was just like he had this compulsion to be an asshole, like he had to lash out and he didn’t know why. Whenever he snapped at Will though, Will just… laughed, or said something teasing, and took it in stride.

Patrick had no idea what to do with it, but it was wildly attractive.

Everything Will did was just infused with this kind of easy sexuality. The way he stood with his legs slightly parted and his shoulders slouched, like he was just inviting someone to come and stand between his legs. The way he bit his lip, and the way his eyes would trail up Patrick’s form as they walked, like he was trying to take in every part of Patrick, sear him into his memory.

Patrick didn’t understand how someone could take everything Patrick was throwing at him and then dish it back out with such casualness.

“If you take me to the opera, I swear to God, I’m going to murder you,” Will said, face scrunched up as he examined the tie that he was supposed to be putting on.

“You can’t run this con without me,” Patrick pointed out.

“I’ll wait until after the con to kill you,” Will replied. “You sure I don’t look like a leprechaun?”

He was referring to the fact that his suit was green, which in turn made his eyes look green. Patrick was trying to think of reasons why he shouldn’t just get down on his knees right then and there. He knew there were a lot of reasons, but he was having a very hard time remembering any of them.

“You look great,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll have all the girls swooning.”

“It’s not the girls I want swooning,” Will muttered, putting the tie on.

“You’ll make our waiter swoon, then. We’re just going out to dinner. I want to teach you how to run surveillance on a mark in a restaurant. That’s a great way to get information on someone.”

“What, like if they order a salad instead of the chips?”

“You’re being deliberately obtuse,” Patrick said, batting Will’s hands away to get the tie into a proper Windsor knot. “Honestly, have you ever worn a tie before?”

“I was wearing a tie when we met.”

“And you obviously charmed some poor sucker into doing it for you.” Patrick got the tie to submit and smoothed it down. He thought the black and green stripes looked bold and complimented the rest of the suit.

When he looked up, he started a little and saw that Will was staring right into his eyes. His hand stilled, resting on Will’s chest, and he knew he should pull away, but something about Will’s gaze made him… frozen, almost.

He didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him that way before. There was something raw and covetous and wondering in Will’s gaze. Patrick had seen that look a couple of times, when a client looked at the piece of art they’d asked him to steal. It was desire, Patrick realized, hot and fervent.

He should really step away, drop his hand from Will’s chest, but he couldn’t. He just wanted to keep eating up that look on Will’s face. He wanted Will to look at him like that all the time, like he was something beautiful and priceless, something Will desired.

Will gave a small, fond smile. “You really are just like a hedgehog aren’t you?” He murmured. “All prickly on top but soft underneath.”

“Did you just compare me to a small woodland creature?” Patrick asked. He meant for it to sound annoyed but Will had spoken so quietly that he couldn’t help but match the other man’s tone, and in doing so, the words came out a little teasing and breathless.

“Don’t worry, you’re much more attractive than a hedgehog,” Will promised. “You’re really quite marvelous, actually.” His gaze dropped down to Patrick’s mouth and oh, this was getting dangerous. This was veering into very, very bad territory.

Patrick forced himself to step away from Will, feeling like he was tearing himself away from him. His heart was hammering in his chest and it was all he could do not to ask Will to tell him all the ways that he thought Patrick was ‘quite marvelous.’

“We should get going,” he said, wincing internally at how out of breath he sounded. “We don’t want to be late for our reservation.”

“No, wouldn’t want to be late for that,” Will replied, but he was looking at Patrick like Patrick had just inadvertently revealed something about himself, and Patrick had no idea how to feel about that.

Instead of examining it, he just grabbed his jacket and hustled out the door, knowing that Will would follow.

The restaurant that Patrick was taking Will to was a nicer one, Italian, because Patrick was not above opening the door for Will and telling him that this was his way of apologizing for cutting his trip to Italy short.

The playful glare that Will shot his way was completely worth the hassle it had been to get a reservation.

They were seated at a table that afforded Will an excellent view of a married couple that Patrick had noticed when he’d shared the elevator with them at the hotel. They were on the same floor as Patrick, and clearly unhappy. He’d run a background check on them and now had plenty of information, but now it was time to see what Will could gather from watching them at dinner.

“I landed this table by bribing the maître d,” Patrick informed him. “You’ll need to get used to bribing people a lot. Just never tell them all of why you’re bribing them. Give them half of the reason, or a false reason, or no reason at all.”

Will nodded. He was taking all of Patrick’s instructions seriously, even if he liked to tease Patrick the rest of the time. Awkward feelings of jealousy and longing aside, Patrick was glad that he had chosen Will. Will seemed truly determined to make his way up in the criminal world, and Patrick could tell that when it came to instructing him, Will was listening to everything that he said.

“So you want me to watch them and tell you all that I can figure out just by eavesdropping?” Will asked.

Patrick nodded. “You can run a background check on someone and that’ll tell you a lot, but there’s no replacement for getting up close and seeing them in person. Watching how they behave with the ones they’re closest to is important. They’ll reveal things to that person and around that person that they won’t reveal any other time, and so you need to be watching them then.”

Will nodded. “And what if I’m dining alone? I mean, you’re a good excuse for me to be here. Who wouldn’t be out on a date with someone like you? But what if I don’t have a partner in this? How am I supposed to eat alone without being obvious that I’m eavesdropping and looking like a creep?”

“That’s when you pick up someone and take them out on a date. If possible, take a colleague that you know is in the area so they can just keep up a stream of chatter that you don’t have to really listen to. It’s harder when you’re taking someone out on a genuine date, but it’s fine. You just have to get them to do most of the talking.”

“I can do that,” Will said. “Like I said, I’m good at getting people to do what I want.”

“So you’ve told me…and yet I have managed to be immune to you.”

“Trust me, darling, it pains me to go home alone every night.” Will winked at him, and then went to perusing his menu like he hadn’t just lobbed yet another flirtation at Patrick.

Patrick was seriously considering locking them both in the hotel room for a week once this job was over, or alternately, running away and never letting himself get anywhere near Will again. He wasn’t sure yet which was stronger, the desire to be with Will or the fear of what he was starting to feel.

They looked over the menu and ordered, chatting with the waiter, and then Patrick started up a stream of light conversation. He talked about the weather, about art, about summer in Argentina, about the beaches, about that one time in history when three men crowned themselves Pope, about Oscar Wilde and how The Picture of Dorian Gray was his favorite book but it always made people look at him weird when he said that, and about how he felt like he was the only person in the world who didn’t care about the latest boy band. Will nodded and hummed and said “yeah” or “I agree” or “wow” but for the most part, he didn’t have to say anything. He could have said “yeah” to Patrick stating that he wanted to run away and live as a hermit on a tropical island, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Nobody was listening to exactly what they were saying. It just mattered that it looked like they were having a conversation.

By the time the main course arrived, Will was starting to get a gleam in his eye that Patrick knew well. He’d seen it in Aunt Laura, and various other criminals, and even in himself sometimes when he looked in the mirror. It was that gleam of triumph, of knowing that you’re succeeding at what you’re doing.

“Their marriage is in shambles,” Will whispered. “She gave up her job, and a high-powered one too, sounds like, to follow him around. He’s a diplomat of some kind. Ambassador, maybe. Now, she’s got to play the housewife and she spends all her time shopping and she’s bored out of her mind, and he doesn’t pay any attention to her.”

Patrick was the one doing all the talking so he hadn’t been able to hear what the couple had been saying, exactly, but he had been able to pick up the hushed, tense tones and knew that an argument was brewing.

“He’s arguing that his job is his life and she knew that when she married him, and her argument is that her job was her life as well and he shouldn’t have asked her to give that up and expect her to throw away everything for love of him when he wouldn’t do the same for her.” Will got a mischievous look on his face and looked up at Patrick through his lashes. “Ten quid says she’ll throw a drink in his face by the end of this.”

“You’re on, but I’d like to point out that you don’t have ten quid to give me,” Patrick replied. Will really hadn’t had any money on him and so Patrick had given him some, but it was technically Patrick’s money and he had been paying for pretty much everything. If Will objected to being a bit of a kept man, he hadn’t said anything. In fact, whenever Patrick brought up that it was really his money Will was using, Will would just wink at him like Patrick had said something flirtatious.

“Doesn’t matter when you’re the one who’ll be paying me,” Will replied.

“This is a public restaurant, she’s not going to throw a drink in his face.”

“She will if he insults her self-assurance. She’d be good in an office.” Will put on a Boston accent to match the woman’s but kept his voice low. “‘Tell Lewis he needs to be in my office five minutes ago if he still wants to have a job tomorrow,’” he said, mimicking the woman’s cadences and tone.

“You know you could make a crap ton of money as a mimic,” Patrick pointed out.

“But where’s the fun in just that?” Will replied.

The husband said something and the table with the couple went deathly silent.

“And there you have it,” Will whispered. “He’s just said something about how she wasn’t cut out to be a boss or CEO or whatever it was anyway.”

The silence went on for another second, and then—

Patrick turned around just in time to see the wife throw her drink in her husband’s face. She stood up, shaking with rage, and Patrick thought that she looked completely different from the tight, sad little woman he’d seen in the elevator. She looked taller now. Self-assurance really did suit her.

“I don’t think I’ll see you back at the room,” the woman said, and then she turned and walked out of the restaurant.

Patrick turned back to see Will waggling his fingers, grinning.

“You don’t have to look quite so smug,” Patrick said, handing the money over.

“Oh, but I really do, love,” Will said, tucking the money into his jacket pocket.

“So,” Patrick said, “if you were running a con—say you wanted to get your hands on the husband’s assets—having just seen that, what do you think would be the best approach?”

Will thought for a moment. Patrick liked watching Will think. He always looked so serious then, like he was taking a test in a classroom. “I’d approach the wife, but not as a potential lover. I don’t think she needs that right now. I’d pose as a business person. Maybe get us into a situation where I need her advice and she helps me out, some way that she can show off her skills in a way she hasn’t been able to. I’d gain her confidence as a fellow business person, perhaps a future colleague, and I’d sow more discord between her and the husband. Once I had her trust, I’d find some excuse to need her husband’s information…a business venture, perhaps, or a way for her to really stick it to him, if that’s what she wants.”

Patrick nodded. “Good angle. And what about when the husband finds out about this man his wife is spending all of this time with?”

“Well I’d say I’m gay, but some straight men are weird about that, so I’d say I’m married. Get a friend to pose for some photos and show those off, have a ring, maybe a kid. Be stupidly in love. That’ll really needle both of them, yeah? Knowing that I’ve gotten both love and business, when that’s what they both want and can’t seem to get.”

Patrick had to hold in the smile his face was threatening to give out. “Nice. You’d need to run background checks and establish some good fake credentials, but you could definitely work with this. Good job.”

Will shrugged, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile. “Yeah, well, I’m just learning from the best, is all.”

Patrick didn’t know what to say to that, so he tucked into his food instead.

“So, what were your parents like?” Will asked.

Patrick nearly choked on his steak. “What?”

“Your parents. C’mon, you can’t think I’m not curious about how you got into this whole thing. Me, I was kind of born into it. It’s hard not to get involved in crime and all when all your mates and neighbors are doing it. My dad was already in the slammer when I was three and I haven’t seen him since, and Mum always tried to keep me out of trouble but it was a losing battle. I think she’d be happy to see me now, though, living the high life, handsome guy on my arm.”

“I’m not on your arm.”

“And there’s that prickly hedgehog bit again.” Will grinned. “When are you going to give it up and realize you can’t upset me just by being a little cranky? I know it’s all show.”

Patrick bit back his retort and took another bite of steak instead. When he finished chewing, he asked, “Why are you telling me all this about yourself? It isn’t smart. I could use any of this against you. Like your mom. I could track her down.”

“Good luck with that,” Will said, snorting. “She’s been dead two years, hit and run driver. She was coming back from her late-night shift, you know how drivers can be at three in the morning.”

“My parents were killed by a drunk driver,” Patrick admitted. “I was eight.”

“I’m real sorry. That must have been awful. At least I got a good two dozen years with my mum.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t have to go through the shitty teenage years of arguing with them over everything.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, me and Mum used to have the biggest rows. But she was just worried about me. I can’t blame her for that, not with how my life’s turned out. She must be tearing her hair out, wherever she is. So what did you do after your parents died? Turned right to a life of crime, did you?”

“Yeah, I became an eight-year-old criminal mastermind, didn’t you hear? I held up baby food stores all over the United States.”

Will laughed. “Seriously though, darling, what did you do?”

“You really have to be more careful about sharing information,” Patrick said. “People can use it against you.”

“But you won’t,” Will replied, his easy faith in him making Patrick’s chest feel warm and tight. “You’ve done right by me.”

“I all but blackmailed you into working with me.”

“You were right. If I’d tried to pull anything with your passport, the whole criminal world would’ve been after me. I could’ve gotten into real trouble by accidentally posing as The Jackal,” Will pointed out, jabbing with his fork for emphasis, “and you didn’t turn me into the police, or punish me for stealing from you. You took me on, made me a partner, and you’re giving me a proper education on how to con. I don’t see how any of that makes you a bad guy.”

“I’m not saying it does.”

“Then why are you telling me not to trust you?”

“I’m not saying don’t trust me, I’m just saying, don’t get into the habit of it. I don’t…” Patrick’s breath stuttered and the next few words stumbled out of his mouth awkwardly. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Will looked at him, eyes gray and serious. Now that Patrick had said something, it felt like he couldn’t stop, and he kept talking.

“You’re a real good person, Will. I—you don’t know this, but when I said I work alone, it’s my choice to do that, but it’s also partially that I’m not good with people, usually. I’ve spent my entire life pretending to be other people, lying and cheating and hiding, and nobody’s seen the real me in years…so I don’t know how to be the real me. Not really. I’m cranky and arrogant and demanding and you’re putting up with all of it. You’re not even getting irritated. That’s—I don’t know if you know how sweet that is. I know that you grew up in a rough neighborhood and I’m not saying that doesn’t count, but from what you’ve told me, you had people you could rely on there. That’s why it hurt when one of them betrayed you, because you trusted all of them. And out here, you can’t do that. It’ll take you a long time to build up trust with the contacts I’m going to give you. You’re going to have to watch your back for a long time, and I don’t want you trusting me to turn into trusting people that you shouldn’t. You’re a good person and I don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all. You know, if you can put up with me, that means you can put up with a hell of a lot and it might mean that you’re going to see more good in people than is actually there.”

Patrick felt a little breathless at the end of that, like he’d just sprinted for a mile. Will kept staring at him—no, looking at him, properly, like he could see right down to Patrick’s very soul.

“If you’d let me,” Will said slowly, his voice deep and even, “I’d kiss you right now.”

Patrick thought that his heart stopped for just a second.

Will seemed to be thinking, weighing his words carefully. “Nobody’s looked out for me like this since my crew got arrested. It’s pure luck that I slipped through the police lines and made it out. Since then… it feels like I’ve just been winging it, like I can’t even breathe properly. If I hesitate for even a second, if I stay in one place for even an hour too long, there’ll be the police on me and that’ll be it. Now that I’m with you—I don’t have to be on the run anymore. I don’t have to be so in control anymore, and I need that, because I’ve been feeling so out of control, y’know, just, unable to do anything except run like some stupid animal, yeah? And now you’re here and taking care of everything and I know I might make faces an’ all, but I like that you make me buy these ridiculously expensive suits and teach me how to eavesdrop and make me practice my card dealing. I like that you’re in charge and in control and I know you might think it’s arrogance, but I can’t help feeling like someone’s finally taking care of me and looking out for me the way my crew used to and that’s such a relief, Patrick. You have no idea. It’s like I can breathe again.”

Will didn’t stop looking into his eyes the entire time, like there was a message in there that Patrick had to understand, absolutely had to. Patrick felt himself caught, just like when he’d fixed Will’s tie, and just like when Will had run his fingers over his jaw in the street. Will might think that Patrick was in control but with Will, Patrick felt so out of control, like for the first time he didn’t really have a plan and he was in over his head and he’d drown if he let his guard down for even a second.

“And now,” Will chuckled, sounding a little raw, “you’re telling me not to trust anyone and telling me all about how I need to be wary of everyone, including you, of all people. I don’t know, man, it’s just—it’s real sweet, that’s what I’m saying. You’re all cranky and you put on a show, but you’re soft and gentle underneath it all, I think, and when you do things like this, it just proves my point.”

“I don’t think I’m nearly as good of a person as you think I am,” Patrick protested.

“And I don’t think I’m nearly as good of a person as you think I am,” Will replied. “So how about we just go around thinking the other person’s great and wondering how they put up with the likes of us, and we’ll call it even.”

Patrick laughed, feeling giddy and out of control. “I don’t know how you say I’m in charge when you keep yanking the rug out from under me like that.”

Will shrugged. “It’s a part of my British charm, I guess.”

Patrick snorted, and then the waiter came up to ask about dessert, and they switched topics to talking about which country really made the best chocolate. It was a relief to get away from that subject. Patrick didn’t think he’d been that open and honest with anyone since Aunt Laura had died. It was a rush, but a terrifying one.

It didn’t help that Will was looking at him like he was still thinking about kissing him, and doing things like moaning around the stupid chocolate cake he’d ordered because Patrick was an idiot and let people order things like chocolate cake while forgetting that the person ordering said cake is the hottest person you’ve ever seen and was liable to kill you if they didn’t stop making love to their dessert right the fuck now.

The waiter put the bill down on the table, and Patrick was wondering if Will had gotten a bit of frosting smeared onto the corner of his mouth on purpose, or if Patrick was just losing his mind, when he saw someone come out of the bathroom.

His blood ran cold.

“Will.” Patrick hastily put a wad of euros in the checkbook and stood up. “We have to go, now.”

“Everything all right?” Will looked up at him, concern deepening the lines on his face. “You feeling sick again?”

Patrick didn’t understand. He wasn’t supposed to be here for another two days. Why was he here? Why had his schedule changed?

“Keene’s here. We need to get out, now, before he sees us together.”

If Keene saw them together, he’d be suspicious when Patrick sat down to join their game on the final day, and so Keene wouldn’t play recklessly and risk it all. Patrick couldn’t afford that. Luckily, Will seemed to understand that, because in a flash he was standing, stepping a little to his left so that his bulkier frame blocked Patrick’s face from Keene’s gaze.

Patrick could barely hear anything over the roaring in his ears. Keene was right there, so close at hand. He could just walk over and stab the guy with a steak knife if he wanted to. He could strangle him, watch the light fade from his eyes. He had never felt this kind of anger, this need for revenge before. This was the man who’d used Laura, who’d taken advantage of her love and then walked away and left her to suffer. This was the man who’d set her up and caused her death.

He wanted to destroy him.

But not here. Not now. First of all, for the obvious reason that killing someone in public generally gets you arrested. Second of all, he couldn’t show his hand like that to Will, not when Will was calling him sweet. Will would be disgusted with him—and Patrick didn’t think he could stand that. And third of all, it wouldn’t truly get him revenge. Keene would be dead. What good was that? He wanted Keene to suffer, and the way to do that was to strip Keene of the thing that mattered most to him: his money. Even better, they’d do it through the activity he most enjoyed: the competition of gambling.

Patrick was going to clean Keene out, make him bet everything, and with Will dealing, they’d sweep it all out from under him. Keene would be left with nothing.

He hurried them out of the restaurant, but then he felt Will crowd up against him and press his mouth against his ear.

“I think he was just getting a drink at the bar or something, because he’s leaving the restaurant too.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Patrick ran through his options. He’d chosen the hotel he was staying at because it was the one that Keene was staying at as well, but he couldn’t go back with Will to his apartment in case someone saw them. Their dinner could easily be seen as just two colleagues. They hadn’t behaved in a romantic way at all, despite the heart-to-heart. However, if he went back to Will’s apartment, people would start talking… Monte Carlo was a small world, when it came down to it. Oh, sure, the people who owned the fancy houses and apartments and all, they weren’t always there, but the employees who were there every day? Very small world.

That meant they had to go back to the hotel.

“We can’t walk too quickly,” Patrick whispered. “He’ll wonder what’s wrong.”

“I have an idea,” Will said, “But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“I’ll take anything at this point.” His anger was making it hard to think clearly. “I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Good thing I’m the improviser then,” Will whispered cheerfully, and then he was grabbing Patrick by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him into an alley.

Will pressed Patrick up against the wall, one hand resting at the back of Patrick’s head to keep him from hitting it on the rough brick and the other hand bracing against the wall. “What are the two things people always avoid looking at?”

Patrick could hear Keene’s footsteps coming closer. “What?”

“A row,” Will said, “Which we can’t do right now because that’ll make him remember our faces and voices, or…”

He leaned in, and Patrick had a moment to think, of course, and then Will was kissing him and Patrick wasn’t thinking of anything at all.

It was true—nobody wanted to look at two people making out. It made people uncomfortable. A fight it could go either way, either someone would be fascinated and watch for a minute, or they’d hurry away, and they couldn’t risk Keene being interested in what they were fighting over. Patrick didn’t even think that he was capable of thinking well enough to manufacture a fight at the moment, not when he was still imagining happily stomping the heel of his shoe repeatedly into Keene’s face.

So, making out in a dark alley it was.

For the first few moments, Patrick focused on Keene, or rather the sound of Keene walking by. There was a moment’s pause, like Keene was realizing someone was up to something in the alley, but then Will was swiping his tongue over Patrick’s lip and Patrick opened his mouth instinctively—and then he wasn’t focusing on anything other than Will.

Will could have half-assed it, seeing as this was just a distraction technique, but no, he was kissing Patrick like this was the end of the world, like they could die any second, and that if so, he wanted to die kissing him. Patrick tugged Will closer, sliding his hands underneath his jacket, trying to feel the hard muscle that he knew lurked underneath. Will groaned and worked his thigh in between Patrick’s legs, pressing in and up and oh, fuck, yes, right there.

Patrick ground his hips down, not even really thinking about it, riding on instinct as Will moved his hands to grab Patrick’s waist and ass and pull them more solidly together, hips jerking in little aborted thrusts. Maybe it had been the sort-of foreplay they’d been engaging in the last week or so, or maybe it was just that it had been such a long time since his last partner before Will, but Patrick felt so close already, sparks dancing behind his eyelids and his breath coming in harsh pants. The angle was hard and desperate and perfect, and he just couldn’t resist, the pressure just right and he knew this was breaking his rule, shattering it into a thousand pieces, and he was really going to hate himself for this but first, first this, oh fuck, yes, this.

Keene was already gone, having moved on after that half-second of pausing, but Patrick kept pretending he was there, pretending they had to keep this up, because he didn’t want to push Will away and he didn’t want to stop. He was making little noises into Will’s mouth, noises that Will was swallowing up. His hands had stopped moving and were now just clutching stupidly at Will’s arms. Will’s movements were getting jerkier and harsher as well, and Patrick hooked a leg up around Will’s waist, as high was he could, and the new angle made everything turn to fire and Will was groaning against Patrick’s throat, thrusting a few more times before he went stiff and Patrick could feel him coming, and then Will was pulling Patrick into a slow, sucking kiss, like the kind you gave someone when you had all the time in the world, and Patrick’s hips were moving frantically like he was sixteen years old again and desperate to get off and he was coming too, panting harshly and wet against Will’s lips.

“I think that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Will whispered, pressing slow, light kisses over Patrick’s cheeks before moving his mouth down to kiss all over Patrick’s throat. “Fuckin’ peng, you are, swear down.”

Patrick laughed, the sound raw and broken and ringing in his ears. He liked Will’s natural accent, more than he thought he’d ever be able to admit. “Very eloquent.”

Will raised his head so that he could meet Patrick’s eyes. “What did I tell you, pengting?” he asked. “You can’t push me away with those little jabs. I know it’s all show, innit?”

Patrick was seized with the sudden, clawing urge to deck Will in the face. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t open himself up to someone like this, someone who was seeing so much more of him then he’d ever intended anyone to see. He couldn’t handle Will looking at him like that, he couldn’t handle the way Will kissed him so soft and deep, and he couldn’t handle how Will seemed to see so much more in him than Patrick saw in himself.

He’d have to put some distance between them, Patrick thought, even as his fingers clenched in Will’s arms, tugging him in, pressing them closer together despite the mess in their pants. He’d go back to the hotel and send Will to his apartment. Keene was here, and so that would be a good excuse to keep Will at arm’s length. This… infatuation, or whatever it was, would fade, and they’d screw Keene over but good, and he wouldn’t have to deal with Will or the strange feelings Will stirred in him ever again.

Love had destroyed Aunt Laura, he remembered.

But when Will moved his hand from Patrick’s ass to around his waist to tuck him in against him and kiss him properly, deeply, like a lover would, Patrick let him.