in the aftermath.

She scoffed audibly at his words, four years too late, Evelyn thought to herself. Reaching for the bottle, she poured him another drink without hesitation knowing that he would require it in order to progress their conversation. “You wrote to me once… Once.” the muscles in her jaw tightened as her gaze grew upwards to meet the cold hue of his own. “Did it not occur to you that perhaps in those four years I deserved more than a single letter?” truth be told she hadn’t even expected that one letter from him, but it had been enough to keep her hanging on to his every word now. “You don’t understand it, do you? I risked everything for you. Every time you came to visit me in my room, every time you kissed me in the gardens, every glance we shared in that house… I was risking it all. But when it came to you risking everything, you couldn’t do it.” Evelyn had hardly ever spoken out loud about their situation, and now they were finally airing it, she could feel a lump in her throat beginning to form as the frustration and upset started begging to be heard. Evelyn poured herself another drink but instead of bringing the glass to her lips, she nursed it against her collar bone, her cold gaze boring into his.

Drawing a hand down the length of his chin, Charles sighed. Women always saw things so black and white, so right and wrong. There was never a shadow of grey, or some in between that could offer an explanation. Instead, you were left with a verdict of guilty before the final stand had even been taken. “Evelyn,” There was a fierceness to his tone, a certain amount of demand that refused to be ignored as he downed his prevailing drink in one final swig. “--if you would just bloody listen, woman.” Slipping the glass from his grasp, he placed it atop the nearest table as he stood, crossing the length of a few floorboards to the blonde. She was as lovely and startled as the first day he’d approached her, utterly unsure of his actions as the man raised hands to grip at her shoulders. “Fuckin’ hell, just listen.” They were close now, nearer than they had been in years and an onslaught of memories threatened his subconscious as his senses inhaled the familiar mix of lavender and vanilla. Like a spring morning, she was intoxicating, as if she were declaring a nearly endless season of sunshine and good graces. 

“It wasn’t my choice.” There was hardly a time when the Duke would admit to his end or lack of law. As if declaring he could perhaps be invalidated would be his demise, the man clung to his narcissism and prestige. But in the harbor of her home, the fire crackling in the foreground, Charles recognized the time to extricate the mask. “I had no choice.” Releasing the hold of one of her shoulders, his hand moved up, cupping at her cheek as the pad of his thumb ran along the curve of her cheek, and for a long second, he solely stroked sincerely at the membrane of her cheek. It was plainly seconds, but he swore he could’ve frozen time with that touch if he tried. “If I had gone, my father would’ve ruined you, and I couldn’t be the man that conceded to the worlds most transcendent beauty to be taken.” Shaking his head, the man compressed his lips together, working for the precise words that would justify his resolution. 

Inhaling, the man felt as if a weight caressed wearily on his chest. Slowly taking its time as it pressed down on him, overwhelming Charles just before he could manage his way in dialogue. “Now here it comes, Evelyn.” Freeing the other shoulder, he cupped both cheeks staring down till he met eye level with the woman. “I love you so, and thus I couldn’t be selfish. For once in my fucking life, I couldn’t be selfish with you, Evelyn.” Pausing, he gazed so deeply, sure he must be smoldering holes straight through her. “And there it goes, because now I can.”

Samson Hunter didn’t smoke anymore. That was a habit that he’d formed in his youth, then continued on as a soldier. But the flower shop owner/retired artist version of him? That man never smelled like tobacco and kept his nails white and clean…save for the potting soil pressed underneath. That man didn’t think of his childhood tobacco farm or men the battlefield that always stunk of dried leaves and smoke. Sam Hunter was reformed.

Yet the curly haired man found himself rolling a cigarette tightly between his thumb and forefinger. Even the sensation of it between his lips felt like an instant reassurance, a warm embrace, a deftly earned consolation prize. As he searched in his coat pocket for his brass lighter, however, he muttered several expletives under his breath. He barely registered the body next to him save for this necessity. “’Scuse me, do you happen to have a lighter?” 

Not many men would find themselves so inclined to address Charles without a formal bid, particularly not for something as mundane as a lighter. Yet this stranger offered no remorse as he spoke to him, even clearing his throat as an announcement. “Excuse me?” A brow lifted as if he’d misheard the man, though he hadn’t as his own fingers came to tap along the rim of his glass. 

“If a man fancies a smoke, perhaps he should own a personal lighter? Or simply not smoke at all.” It had been a long morning, and the Duke had found himself in a mood which could likely be the resolution to his snobbish response. However, unlike the stranger, Charles Dormer had the title to act however he pleased on the day.

                           one would have received a rise of contemptible laughter from william had he been told mere hours ago that he would again be at charles dormer’s beck and call,  tracing his tongue along the inseam of the other’s lips and requesting ––  nay,  demanding entrance.  then the duke’s teeth paved a scorching trail down his throat,  latching upon delicate skin as will saw the moment fit to shove charles toward the lounge, not once breaking their contact,  until the back of his knees bumped against the chaise.  “they’ll come looking for us eventually,”  he murmured breathlessly,  “if only to make certain we haven’t killed each other.  how much time do you reckon we have?”

Buckling his knees, the man sank against the cushion, his hands drawing William down upon him. It seemed if he were to be at the mercy of his desires, he would not harbor them alone. “An hour or so, but I’ll ring for dinner before then.” Fingers began working buttons, mastering them with a pop as fabric spread apart exposing underclothes. From there it took quick work to start to rid Will of any cloth, as he greedily exposed the man. “You’ll tarry all bloody evening; I have a guest suite, and it seems you’ve drunk too much to be out executing any proper decisions, Middleton.” 

She idly stood beside him, feeling useless and aloof as he quickly worked to light the fire. She felt embarrassed almost as she was more than familiar with having to get her hands dirty - after all, she had been a maid to the Dormer family for a large portion of her life. She turned her back on the frantic flames that danced shadows upon her walls as she found a bottle of whiskey kept under her kitchen sink. She stole two glasses from the shelf above her, pouring a drink for the both of them before she sat down. With her heart still continuously racing, she didn’t allow Charles enough time to speak another word before she had downed the golden liquid. The burning sensation was welcomed and in an instant it electrified her senses, and before she knew it she was pouring herself a second drink in preparation for what he was about to divulge. “You had better hurry up before I drink the entire bottle, Charles.” she was only teasing him - partially.

The woman was two deep before Charles had even set into his first, though he didn’t mind. Liquid confidence helped all, and Evelyn was no exception. Especially now in the draining light, as shadows were cast over features, it seemed they both could use the additional force. “You’re a clever woman, you know I wouldn’t have requested an invitation without reason.” Given the hour, they’d be the talk of the town before the morning hours drew their light. But Charles didn’t concern himself with idle gossip, not when the truth lay within fingers grasp. “I’ve come to clear the air.” Tipping his glass back, he emptied the contents. “The morning I nevermore arrived, it was at my father’s errand not my own.” If she could surmise anything at all, it was the importance of a Duke’s command upon his son. “For the sanity of us both, and your own well being, he asked me to take my leave.”

                           the pad of charles’ thumb pressed flush against his warmed flesh,  the vein within his neck leaping to attention,  surging beneath the other’s touch as though it were as delicate as the flutter of a monarch’s wings,  quivering maniacally,  and not a chokehold round his neck.  the rubicon would either be crossed or tossed aside tonight,  and william feared,  his tongue glazed in words unsaid and eyes darkening with thinly veiled desire,  the latter would no longer be feasible.  decency was no longer an option,  the war had been fought long and hard and there would be no retreating––not for men of their caliber,  not as their hearts relinquished their defenses and their aches made themselves bare to the night wind,  eyes battling one another and words warring for domination.  “i am happy to oblige,  your grace,”  william rasped,  hand reaching up to clasp charles’ jaw and melt his mouth against his own pair of lips.  in one moment,  they veered from abstinence to devouring;  free - hand finding charles’ side and drawing him closer,  stabilising and rooting him against him.

In a world of fire and ice, the pair were justly flame as they met, consuming all that was drawn into their path. There was no exception as his lips were both met and parted by William, a hand snaking about his side and he was forced closer. “F i n a l l y.” The word was muttered, barely audible as his own hands moved to grip at the other, working to bring him as physically near as attainable. This was what he craved, what he’d pictured and memorized during the worst of times out there. The solitary thing that promised to be worthwhile if he could just make it back. It was as if he were a man perishing of thirst, desperately in need of it as his mouth moved from Will’s down to his throat, teeth grazing flesh as hands tore at buttons. If they only had tonight, Charles wouldn’t waste it as he tore, disregarding just how feverish his actions could be seen.  

My god did Evelyn want to finish his sentence for him. If I was anyone else we would be married by now… Her words teetered against her lips as they parted just slightly, but she abruptly forced herself to withhold them. He was right, she was far below his station. She always had been and always will be. Yet they didn’t follow the same boundaries as anyone else would, they crashed past the expected boundaries within months of meeting one another. “And how was it you once allowed me to address you?” with her words she took a step closer to Charles, using the proximity in the hopes of reminding him just how close they used to be.

Her expression contorted with confusion, half due to his repeated and confident touch and half due to his father’s damnation of their union. “Fine.” Evelyn stuttered almost, her frown easing gently despite the abruptness of her decision. “But you say one word out of line and civil minded is the last thing I’ll be.” it was a useless warning, but she wanted to appear strong and brave in front of him, despite how much he had broken her heart.

As she stepped inside her small lodging, Evelyn almost felt embarrassed because she knew it was nothing like the Dormer estate. In fact her entire home could fit in one room of the Dormer estate, and that thought made her nauseous as it only highlighted the differences in Evelyn and Charles. “Do you want tea? I can make you tea or-” she spoke quickly as she began moving to make a fire before finally turning to face Charles, her hands nervously brushing down her waist as she waited for him to say something. 

As they entered her home, Charles barely offered it a glance, though, from her expression of solicitude, Evelyn couldn’t think past it. Ironically, the man knew she ought to mind. After all, he was a Duke, and station and wealth were intended to be the prime subject delivered to his inclination. Nevertheless here and now, she could’ve endured in a bloody box for all he minded. “Never mind the tea, I’ll take a drink, preferably something dark.” The woman was moving about, her hands hovering above objects as she weighed what to do and he sighed, the din toned with aspiration. “Here.” Turning from her, he knelt down by the fire, his hands adjusting the bits of wood. It took just seconds for him to manage, and soon enough he was reaching for the matches and illuminating them in warmth. “Now will you relax, I would care to speak freely with you.” It would be a long night, and they were only just now settling in.     

                           “perhaps you should’ve,”  william echoed,  his voice quietly resistant,  when suddenly charles was in his orbit,  liquor - laced breath fanning warmly against his skin.  chin captured betwixt his forefinger and thumb and sharply wrenched downward to regard the other man with narrowed irises,  he stifled a grunt of protest,  the resentment that poured in his veins long ago rearing its pathetic head.  the circumstances of this encounter stoutly mirrored that of their first,  all those years ago,  reducing middleton to a heap of sentimentality and reminiscence so infrequently experienced in his person that it felt foreign––crawling upon his skin.  “i do not consider it a game,”  he bit,  teeth gnashed,  palm pushing at charles’ shoulder.  he stepped forward when the other stumbled backward.  “is this what you want?  you want me to say the words and allow this to spiral once more?  tell me what you want,  charles.  make use of that title of yours for once and demand it.”

They’d been here before, time and time again, mastering a wearying match. Neither ever emerging victorious, as the pair bore the marks and blemishes of someone cruel. But beneath it all, they kenned sounder. “Then why are you nevertheless still playing?” The lines tumbled forth harshly, as Charles faltered back, catching himself only to thrust his hand against the other in the act of violence. But what succeeded was something changed altogether as he used his own body weight to drive William back, crowding the wall as his fingers traveled to curl about his throat, thumb pad pressing. “What I want,” His grip compressed, both utter fear and resentment inspiring his sentiments. “--is you.” Was he a monstrosity, half a man for desiring something the world had shaded corrupt? Loosening his grip, the man felt his own chest heaving with every breath as it rose and settled. “And for you to desire me.” Willaim stood inches taller, yet Charles had no quandary hiking his gaze up to the man, stares matched.  “But I will not demand it if you do not wish to grant it.”

                           turning on his heel to regard charles with a warm,  albeit weary gaze,  william observed as muscles rippled beneath the fine linen of his shirt.  could he claim he did not know,  that he couldn’t have possibly known that the man would’ve been used as a means to an end to ensure secrecy?  no,  not in good conscience –– after all,  that was how the patrician operated.  hell,  his own damn family,  too.  “why didn’t you kill me,  then?  mutually assured destruction?”  he rose a flippant brow,  outwardly challenging charles or perhaps offering an implicit opportunity to put disputes to rest.  “there were plenty of loose ends.  notes,  those damned playing cards you left.”  the banker reached into his pocket,  producing a card,  a king,  that he’d nabbed when charles excused himself from the gambling table.  “things i never rightly told you about.” 

The concluding question, the one lingering, piloting up space between them. It was both contemptible and fair, and Charles felt his teeth meet in a grind over it. “Perhaps, I should’ve.” Wouldn't it have executed things easier? Taking out the person who’d created such a disturbance in the first place. Of course, it would’ve, and as sensible of a man, as he was, the Duke had still ruled against it. Even, after their climactic encounter, he hadn't seen reason. As if William was the shadow that resisted to depart, the sun casting light everywhere but where he stood, or possibly it was very contrary. But then the other lifted a single card, the well-known silhouette sending all afterthought away. “Fucking hell.” Significances later he was in front of the other, hand seizing at his chin, with digits sweeping over sharp stubble. 

“I won’t play this bloody game not with you, William.” Breath was mingling now, and Charles parted his lips, gaze darting down to the William’s--much like that very first time. “Make a decision.”

                           the paranoia of their heyday had not been bled from his system,  far from it.  he feared each creak of the floorboards like the plague,  dreaded the thought of a curious ear pressed flush against the oak door,  desperate to latch onto a word or phrase that would make tomorrow’s gossip headlines.  he brought his hands to his jaw,  teeth gnawing on the tip of his thumb.  “and i,  you.”  his response was simple,  yet in a way it was the most revealing thing he’d said since sitting across from charles––completely baring himself to the discussion at hand with a mere trio of words.  “it would be unwise for us to behave thus,  begin anew,  but as my father may attest,  god rest his soul,  wisdom eludes me.”  he stood to his feet,  decanting another splash of liquor into his crystal tumbler,  reminiscing as he did so.  “adley. your… valet,  i believe it was,  who knew.  did he survive?”   even as the question was voiced,  a sour churn in william’s abdomen led him to believe that he had not. 

The edge had been taken off, as cerulean orbs followed the liquid flow liberally into the glass. Yet Charles felt no liberation of tension, and he stood himself, intending to stretch his legs. It took barely two steps to cross towards the table, relaxing his shoulders as his coat fell freely to his hands. “No, he didn’t.” A simplistic response, as he hung his coat on the back of the chair. “But you previously knew that.” Charles could never misplace such a gamble, still, with the most loyal of beings, it did not matter. Adley was six feet under the note his conclusion grew too complete. “I killed him myself; his parents received generous compensation from the Dormer estate.” Turning towards William, he boosted his chin. “Don’t appear as if you aren’t relieved, he was a loose end, I couldn’t omit him untied.” Though it had been his election, the weight remained with the man, yet he didn’t drop his gaze, allotting William to discern all its worth.