sense. May I see the letter, or is it private?”
Cornelius passed it over as if in a dream. “I feel like such a fool. I didn’t even think to ask if you spoke other languages.”
“Yes, stupid Austrians don’t often know anything but German.” When Cornelius blushed, he winked at him. “I’m teasing you.”
He was so much more…eloquent in English. This time Cornelius’s blush had a bit to do with embarrassment but mostly was a side effect of his arousal. He’d become so accustomed to Johann being quiet, his conversation halting and rough. The realization that he could blossom into a wit with the simple switch of a language was like discovering a door leading to a house within a house.
He passed over the letter and watched Johann read it, his lips moving occasionally as he did so. “I don’t think the Austrian Army would kidnap you. They have money, from the Turks and Italians, for aether.”
“Yes—and I don’t think my father would pay a ransom anyway.”
“What is the childhood game?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t play games. I can’t recall a single one, in fact.” He shifted in his seat, taking a side of the letter so he could read it too. “My mother is an actress, but she used to be a spy as well. I wondered if maybe the letter is in code. But I’m wretched with codes. And all games, to be honest.”
Johann rubbed his finger along the paper. “I can go to the docks and search the ships. I might not find anything, but it’s better than if you go.” He nodded to the clock on the wall. “You must meet Valentin for dinner.” He paused. “Is…he safe?”
“I think so.” Cornelius gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t know that anyone is safe anymore, to be honest.”
Johann closed his hand over Cornelius’s. “I am safe. I swear on my mother’s name. Bertha.” He ran a finger down Cornelius’s cheek. “She would like you.”
Without meaning to, Cornelius leaned into that finger, and all the yearning he’d been holding back rushed in with a vengeance. Johann’s gaze darkened, and the finger tracing Cornelius’s face became a hand cradling his cheek.
“Now I will ask you a question,” Johann said, his voice rough.
Cornelius swallowed, unable to stop staring at Johann’s stubble-surrounded lips. “Y-yes?”
“You keep telling Valentin and Félix we are lovers. You kiss me, but only in front of others. You tell me we’re pretending.” His thumb brushed Cornelius’s chin. “Are we…pretending?”
There was no saliva left in Cornelius’s mouth. “I…didn’t think you…took men. As…lovers.”
Johann’s gaze didn’t waver. “I haven’t had any lovers. And no men have ever kissed me before.”
“And…now that…one has?” He could barely get the words out of his mouth. Each one felt like sending life out of his lungs. Please do not reject me. Not you, Johann, not now. “What…what do you think of the…notion?”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes danced like a devil’s. “I don’t know. I haven’t had a kiss that wasn’t pretend.”
Cornelius’s exhale was an anguished sigh. “Johann, please —”
And then he could say no more, because Johann’s lips were on his.
Cornelius started to lean in, open his lips, then paused, still too nervous. It was an almost timid kiss. What if Johann were teasing? What—?
Johann’s lips parted, his breath tingling Cornelius’s mouth. This time Conny’s sigh was surrender, and he opened too, taking Johann inside.
He wanted to climb into Johann’s lap, to turn the kiss carnal, to beg Johann to press him into the floor, or the table, or the bed. But he could not make himself move, could only do what Johann led him to. Sweet, slow kisses that made him feel eighteen. The most he dared do was lure Johann’s tongue into play.
Johann went, willingly, clumsily, with the eager awkwardness of inexperience. It made Cornelius weak in the knees. It made the knots in his belly untangle, the confusion and danger
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