10 The Devil's Fire

“You’re going to do splendidly,” Jack said. He was fussing over Gael’s tie for the third time.

“Then stop messing with my tie,” Gael said as tenderly as he could, his accent mostly Irish, but soft, as close to a genuine voice as he ever had. “You could kiss me again.”

“I’ve kissed you five times.” Jack let his hands fall away from the tie. “You look splendid. After work, will you please come see me at the hospital?”

“Ya sure,” Gael said, “Bring some dinner? How long is your shift?”

“From the way things have been going, about three days.” That was said with a bit of irritation. It was one thing to know that residents worked long hours. It was entirely another to work those shifts. The two days he’d had off had been very exciting, but hardly restful. He could completely live the rest of his life without ever seeing Alfred ever again. “You won’t miss me. You’ll be too busy studying.”

Gael nodded like he totally knew what he was doing. Honestly, he’d never been this scared in his life. He’d been in gang fights in the street. He’d been in jail, charged with murder. Not even Alfred scared him like this. His racing mind thought maybe it was that now he had something to lose that he wanted. “I’m not afraid of law. I’ve been in courthouses all my life.”

Jack um’ed then leaned in and kissed Gael on the forehead. “Then what are you afraid of?”

“Who says I’m afraid of anything?”

“Your pulse and the light sheen of sweat on your pretty upper lip.” He stepped away, giving Gael a bit of space. “Are you afraid that you’ll dance in the office?”

With a shrug, Gael laughed in a short nervous snort. “I’ll dance where I want. I’ll never stop dancing. It’s not my fault those people sit at a desk so long their bodies don’t work anymore.” He stared at himself in the mirror, turning to look at different angles. He looked like someone who wasn’t him.

Jack had trimmed his hair neatly, shaved him better than any barber ever had. His face felt like it had never had stubble and never would again. If it wasn’t for the suit, he’d look like he was twelve, a tall twelve year old with a nice ass, but still. “They aren’t going to take me seriously. I can stay in English all day. They don’t know anything I can’t learn, but I’m still Irish. I’m still Alfred’s whore.”

“If you’re anyone’s whore,” Jack said, with a bright joyous smile, “you’re mine. I have something that I’ll share!”

Looking over his shoulder, Gael watched Jack nearly rummage through a drawer, very unlike his usual compulsive neatness. “I’ve got underwear, you know.”

“Yes, yes, and extremely well fitting, I might add.” Jack blushed and came up out of the drawer triumphantly. “Here!” He held up a small little vial of clear fluid with a content smile.

“Holy water?” Gael asked, not entirely sure that holy water wouldn’t leave a mark, what with how long it had been since he’d been to confession and the things he ought to have disclosed in the confession he didn’t get to.”

“No, no.” Jack shook his head.

How anyone could at once be a virgin satyr in human form and be a curmudgeonly old man, Gael still hadn’t figured out. Jack was like vanilla cookies, but one was totally sure that a bite of them would get whiskey on the tongue. They still hadn’t had sex, which was starting to worry Gael very much. Even if they were only going to be very good friends, he wouldn’t go back to Alfred, but he’d developed a certain appetite for carnal things and going without forever wasn’t really his plan. That was more of a problem than it might otherwise have been because in the short time he’d known Jack Walker, the man had reformed Gael’s soul. Gael wasn’t completely sure that certain recreational activities with anyone other than Jack would be, well, satisfying.

“So what is it?” Gael didn’t move away when Jack stepped into kissing distance. Jack was just a touch taller. His clothes smelled of lavender and his hands roses. In the world that Gael came from, men smell like tobacco and clothes smelled like sweat. Jack’s expression shifted sad, so quickly, so transparently. He wasn’t like anyone Gael had ever met or imagined. “I love you.”

“Well, thank you,” Jack said, the sadness muting a little. He gave Gael a quick lips brush kiss. “I love you too, my darling. You are the best gift I’ve ever found in this world. Now look at this.”

This was a very small bottle of perfume, a masculine scent of cinnamon and rose. “I have a twin sister. Had. Her name was Evelyn, though I always called her Eve. She was relentlessly bold with an indomitable spirit!”

“What happened to her?”

“Our father has very particular ideas about how men and women behave. I fear I was always too soft for him and Eve was always too bold for him. On our 15th birthday, it was his intention to give her hand in marriage to a church elder. No one could ever cage Eve and she disappeared that night, after robbing the church. It was quite the scandal.”

“Did your father kill her?”

“Oh no, Father would never. He engaged detectives and they traced her to New Orleans where she boarded a ship bound for China. She was a very brave young woman, but hardly more than a girl. If she lived still, I’m certain she would have found a way to let me know. We were very close.” Jack leaned back in, kissing Gael’s lips and Gael let him control the kiss. “Now this perfume here, this is what she gave me before she left. She said that it would bring me luck and make me bold! So I shall give you a couple of dabs of this and you will rule the law offices.”

“There’s probably cocaine in it,” Gael said, cynically.

“Hardly. Even if there had been, I’ve had the bottle refilled a few times, so there isn’t now.”

It felt like holy water, as Jack touched a bit of the scented oil to Gael’s throat, but it didn’t burn. “Thank you.”

“Now then! The secret to success is getting started!” Jack put the cap back on his precious little bottle and dropped it into a pants pocket. “That’s Mark Twain.”

“Yes, I know,” Gael said, catching Jack in his arms, leaning him over and kissing him deeply. This was no angelic chaste kiss, but a devil of a kiss that leaves the embers of hunger burning in the belly the whole day through. “I love Mark Twain.”

Still leaning back, submitting his being to Gael’s strong arms, Jack shivered. “I thought you loved me.”

“Oh? Did that kiss leave some doubts? I should give you another?” Gael locked eyes with Jack as his tongue teased Jack’s lower lip. “When are you going to let me show you my best talents?”

Blush as bright as his hair, Jack nearly stumbled as he pulled away. He grabbed hold of one of the four posters that surrounded his bed, leaning against the dark wood column. “Well, now, see, there is, I, yes, exactly, so now you’ll be late to work. Come by the hospital after work and we’ll discuss this in more detail. Will that be acceptable?”

“Yeah,” Gael said. Indeed he felt quite confident now. Anyone who could fluster Dr. Jack Walker that way could rule the world. “You’re adorable.”

“I am quite proper and,” Jack said, still holding onto the bed, “firm, quite firm in my resolve.”

“I bet you are,” Gael said, saucily. He set his new hat on his neatly trimmed hair, gave his beloved a daring Irish smile and a few steps of a jig, before striding out the door of their flat. He could be a lawyer. They were going to have to keep up with him!