Page 110 of Rears & Vices

D’Arcy stilled. “A man doesn’t need an ulterior motivation to fuck me.” All teasing had drained away from his voice; he sounded actually, truly offended.

Everard shifted away. “Of course not. But the situation…”

D’Arcy raised up on an elbow, leaning in and looming. “And Vee hasn’t claimed me, publicly or not. Nor,” he said, making a face, “do I want him to do so.”

“But it was—don’t you think it might have occurred to him it was⁠—”

“If you say convenient, Everard Rubén, so help me⁠—”

“Fine. Vitaliy’s overture towards you came solely whenceforth behind his balls.”

“Jesus Christ, the man hasn’t got magic spunk. Sleeping here affords me nothing. For one, it’s hardly unprecedented, and if you’d spent more than a moment speaking to any of the crew, you’d know⁠—”

“Thank you, I don’t wish to know,” Everard said vehemently. “But then why would they not reattack?”

“Cannot this wait ’til dawn? It’s three in the morning.”

But Everard had already broached the impossible topic, and now it felt too large to be taken back into himself yet again. Wait ’til morning? If he did, it would bubble and fester.

“You do know why. By God! Does Vitya?”

“—Breakfast? Let a man get some porridge in him?”

“For he did nothing. Told me not to worry, as you did, but let me sit with it, day after day, while he knew. You both of you knew.”

D’Arcy groaned.

“For that matter,” Everard realised, “I believe he wouldn’t have—have—with you—at all. In the first place. If that was the danger, the impetus. He wouldn’t have even touched you. Don’t you think?”

“You have him pretty well pegged, I daresay,” D’Arcy muttered.

“He knew and yet he told me he would do nothing for it because of his morals. His principles. But surely, the only reason he would truly do nothing is because he knew it hadn’t a chance of being repeated.”

“Everard, I think maybe… later, on occasion Vee is awake⁠—”

Everard sat up in the cot, threw off the sheets and D’Arcy’s lingering grasp.

“Ev, what’re you…”

Everard swung out, tromped round to the trundle cot, put both hands to Vitaliy’s shoulders, and shook him.

“Jesus, Everard!” D’Arcy leaned far over across the cot and pushed him, hard, breaking his grasp; Everard stumbled backward.

Vitaliy awoke with a sharp, startled inhale, fists clutching the sheets tight as he hauled himself half-upright. “Wha⁠—?”

“What in hell’s wrong with you?” D’Arcy spat. He leaned to put a hand on Vitaliy’s shoulder, rubbing vigorously. “’S’aright, Vee, you’re safe; it’s only Everard being an ass. Breathe.”

Vitaliy’s eyes were wild, his breath gulping. He looked bewildered and… rather betrayed, if Everard was being honest with himself.

“Shh. Breathe,” D’Arcy murmured. He glared up. “Christ, Everard, that was cruel.”

“I…” God, yes. It had been.

“You told him,” Vitaliy croaked. “But it is dark—what hour is it?”

“Too goddamned early is what.” D’Arcy swung himself out of the cot.

“Half-three…” Everard glanced over. “No, four now. Told me what?”