When Machiavelli came up the steps and let himself into the brownstone, he found a flurry of activity. The others were getting their coats on as though preparing to go out; he didn't know why they would do that- even just the twenty-minute walk to the nearby market to get dog food for the Pup had chilled him to the bone. "What's happening?" he asked Scatty, stopping her in the hall.
"Nick called just after you left. He won some tickets on the radio for a holiday show. Want to go?"
"What show?" he asked, putting the bag of cans down on the floor.
Her eyes glinted mischievously. "It's called the Slutcracker."
He arched an eyebrow at her. "The Slutcracker?" he asked, hoping that this was a language barrier kind of situation, but knowing that it wasn't. "What, was the Nutcracker sold out?"
She laughed, delighted apparently at his response. "It's like the Nutcracker, but for a much more adult audience. More dildos, whips, leather, you know…"
Machiavelli glanced around at their group. "And you're going with Perry and Nick?" he asked, but very quietly.
"It should be fun," she told him. "We told Perenelle it was a different interpretation of the Nutcracker and left it at that. Are you going to come?"
He paused. Scanning the room, he realized who was missing. "Is Billy coming?"
She frowned, looking a little worried. "He passed. He said he's just not in the mood…"
"Ah, I thought he would feel better. I was hoping he would." Machiavelli looked up at the ceiling as though he could see through the floor to the rooms above. "No, I think I'll stay here with him, try to cheer him up if I can."
She nodded. "That's probably for the best. We'll let you know how the show goes." She touched his arm before moving back towards the door where the others were waiting. "He's gonna keep Billy company," he heard her telling the others.
Behind him, he could hear the door closing and the sounds of the others' voices fading as they moved into the garage. He paused, wondering briefly if he should give the American immortal space or if he should go find him. He decided it would be better to talk to him now and risk getting sent away. Taking off his scarf, he hung it on the coat rack along with his jacket. He began to search the rooms, one floor at a time, looking for the Kid.
Machiavelli stopped on the landing of the third floor. He glanced in Billy's old bedroom, then the study where the Flamels were currently staying. No sign of his American immortal. He was just beginning to wonder where his partner had gone when he heard a shifting noise above him.
'Hm,' he thought, walking to the end of the hallway and approaching the tiny door to the attic. He didn't see why Billy would be up here of all places, but he'd looked everywhere else. Sure enough, when he reached the top of the spidery circular staircase, there was the American immortal crouched near the far wall. The younger immortal looked up when the floorboards squeaked under Machiavelli's feet.
"Hey," Niccolo said, picking his way through the boxes and bundles that they'd brought up in the early fall. "What- You didn't feel like going to the show with the rest of them?" he asked, changing tacts mid-sentence.
Billy leaned back and sat on his heels. "Nah," he said finally. "I thought you would go though. Why didn't you?"
"Did you want some time alone?" Machiavelli asked instead, touching the outlaw's arm gently. "I won't take it personally if you do."
The Kid didn't answer right away and despite what he had just said, Machiavelli felt a touch anxious as he waited for a response. "I do want you around," Billy admitted at last. "I'm glad you're here." Machiavelli felt a surge of relief. "It's just that I'm not a great person to be around right now," he continued. "I'm in a pissy mood."
"I can deal with that," Machiavelli told him. "It's not like you're like this very often." He hesitated. "But can I give you a kiss?"
Billy looked up, his eyes a little bit lost. "Yeah…"
Wrapping his arms around the outlaw's thin shoulders, Machiavelli surprised him by kissing him on the forehead instead of the lips. "I love you…"
"Love you," Billy echoed. The outlaw looked around the attic, like he was only just seeing it now for the first time. He blinked and the lost expression was gone just as soon as it had come. "What are you doing up here, Mac, isn't it a bit dusty for you? You're going to ruin your good suit."
"Ah, I can always clean it. I had to find you." But the Italian looked around too. He sneezed. "What are you looking for anyways, caro?"
"Well, we were talking about getting a tree," Billy said vaguely, pushing up on his bangs. "I thought we might have some Christmas ornaments up here, but it's kind of a mess, isn't it? We just threw everything over by the door, you know?"
"Well it was hard getting everything up that staircase… Did you find the ornaments?"
Billy shook his head. "Maybe I was thinking of one of the other places," he admitted, sounding a bit defeated. "Maybe my place up in New Hampshire… that's where I spent a lot my Christmases…"
"Do you want help looking?"
Again, the outlaw shrugged hopelessly. "I'm sorry, Mac," he said again. "I'm no good tonight."
"William, come downstairs," Niccolo beseeched. He shivered. "It's cold up here." He sneezed again.
"Sure. Dusty too."
Machiavelli pulled the younger man to his feet. "Take a shower," he suggested. "You might feel better."
"Yeah… yeah, I think I will." He followed Machiavelli back through the odds and ends, seemingly lost in thought. "Hey," he said suddenly, stopping on the stairs halfway down. "Come in with me."
"What?" Niccolo asked with a little laugh. "Come in where?"
"Come shower with me," the Kid repeated. "How often do we get the house to ourselves? I want you with me."
"I don't know… Someone could come back, Billy," he said, stalling. He felt butterflies flapping nervous tornados in his stomach. "How would we explain that?"
"Nobody's likely to come back any time soon," the outlaw cajoled. He looked more like himself than he had all afternoon; playful and a bit flirtatious. But vulnerable too, that Machiavelli knew. And he found that he wanted to do as the outlaw said.
Machiavelli groaned. "You've never seen me naked before," he protested. "Are you sure you want it to be tonight?"
"Mac, I always want to see you naked," Billy said in his ear, one arm wrapped around Machiavelli's shoulder and the other beginning to undo the buttons of the Italian's dress shirt. "Now's as good a time to start as any. You do want to, don't you?" he asked, faltering slightly.
"Of course I want to. It's just… I'm me," he said, feeling like that was enough of an explanation.
Billy laughed now, kissing Machiavelli on the cheek and then on the lips, just as suddenly. "Thank god. I wouldn't do this with just anyone, you know." He was working on the clasp of Machiavelli's pants, opening them with the practiced ease of someone who meant business. He touched with light strokes, almost teasing the other immortal.
And Machiavelli felt a leaping sensation, lower than his stomach this time; by now, he was very aroused and finding it hard to take things slow anymore. He pressed his erection into Billy's hand, pushing down his pants more to allow more access.
The outlaw's eyes were half lidded now, the immortal panting slightly with unbridled desire. "Undress me, will you?"
He caught up the hem of Billy's t-shirt and pulled it over the younger immortal's head; this he tossed on the ground without looking to see where it fell. Cupping the outlaw with both hands, he pulled him closer, touching Billy all over. He could feel the American immortal responding to his touches, but it was still hard for him to believe that this moment was real. "You really find me attractive?" he asked, feeling dubious.
"Oh, Mac, I think you're gorgeous."
That was all the Italian needed to hear. Decisively, he stripped the young man from the rest of his clothes. Billy helped by tossing his watch onto the counter of the sink. There was a light flush about him, spreading down from his face to his upper chest. "Turn on the water," Machiavelli told him, wanting both to see more of the American immortal and for the other man to see less of himself. Despite his youthful appearance, he could still feel the difference in their ages and he wanted to undress the rest of the way without an audience.
Billy did as he was told, twisting almost like a dancer. Years of self-imposed abstinence had almost made Machiavelli forget that he was the more dominant lover in a relationship but he found now that he liked it when the younger man followed his directions. Slipping off his boxers, he stepped behind Billy so that his arousal was pressing into the small of the other man's back. He felt rather than heard the Kid gasp; he ran his fingers over Billy's hips, grinding them into his own.
"Turn around," he murmured and felt another thrill shiver down his body when Billy turned to face him.
They looked at each other, the water beginning to steam behind the American immortal. Though he had touched the outlaw before, had received oral from him, had pressed his body against him, there was something far more intimate about seeing each other naked, defenseless and dangerously exposed.
Billy was skinny and lithe, small curls of light brown hair, almost auburn, spreading up from his navel. He wasn't terribly muscular, but there was a suggestion of conditioning under his frame.
The outlaw seemed to have gotten over his initial embarrassment. Now he was unabashedly looking down and Machiavelli had to tilt his head up to kiss him on the lips. "Like I said, Mac, gorgeous."
"You're too kind," he asserted softly. He lifted Billy up, carrying him over the threshold of the shower and setting him down under the warm flow of water. He leaned all of his weight on the shorter immortal, pressing him against the shower wall. The American immortal moaned…
~MB~
Much later that night, they lay under the covers, listening to the creaking of the old house as it settled in for the evening. Outside the streetlights had begun to pop into being, just the ones in the park first, then all the way down their little road. They hadn't bothered turning on the lights in their room yet, meaning that their bedroom was filled with a soft orangey yellow glow and many shadows; still Machiavelli could see Billy curled up beside him and that was all he needed.
He couldn't be sure the American immortal was awake just now. Billy seemed to get sleepy after instances of profound love making and they had worked themselves into a frenzy before. He himself was split between waking the American immortal up for another session and the thought that he should get ready for the others to come back from their show.
There was a slight chuckle from beside him and he glanced to his left. "You are awake," he said, turning onto his side. He got a soft 'mm' from the outlaw who looked up at him, his eyes bright and starry. "And what are you laughing at exactly?"
"Your hair is sticking up in the back," Billy told him, reaching up to run his fingers through the Italian's dark curls. "You don't look very distinguished just about now."
"I was a little distracted," Machiavelli murmured, shifting his weight so that he was pressed up against Billy's thigh.
The Kid looked down in surprise. "Already again?"
"I have a quick recovery time when I'm with you," Niccolo said, refusing to be embarrassed. Billy looked quite pleased, actually.
"Want me to-," Billy made a jerking motion next to his mouth, "-again?"
Machiavelli made a slight strangled sighing sound, wanting Billy to but not wanting to force the American immortal into something which he wasn't prepared at this time to reciprocate. "If you want to," he conceded breathlessly, feeling the bulge in his pants growing, straining against its confines. "You don't have to, angelo."
"I want to," Billy said, rubbing the back of his head self-consciously. Before Machiavelli could say anything else, the outlaw had moved down so that he was more in line with Machiavelli's abdomen. He did a few practice tugs and looked up into Niccolo's gray eyes. "I'm not wonderful at this still," he said self-consciously.
"You're perfect."
Billy ducked his head. Glancing down, Machiavelli could see the flush running through Billy's face and staining his upper body, but the American immortal seemed determined to do this now, so he said nothing. "Where's the lube?" Billy mumbled, sitting up again and scooting over to the headboard.
Tapping his leg, Machiavelli convinced Billy to position himself so that he was perched above the tactician's torso. Because he was shorter than Machiavelli, the tactician had a perfect view of Billy. The American immortal touched himself, leaning forward to take Machiavelli in his mouth again. Machiavelli thrust his hips almost impatiently, his need rapidly doubling- he couldn't help himself. The sight of Billy so wantonly splayed in front of him was almost more than he could take in.
"You're good," Machiavelli gasped. "Deeper, oh… fuck!" He was panting, running his hands on what he could reach of Billy's body, moving his hand over the muscles in his legs and the strong calves.
"Yeah, tell me what you want," Billy told him in a much breathier voice than he usually spoke in.
"I want- I want you to touch me…"
"I can do that."
Machiavelli nearly went through the roof when Billy began to stroke and suck in tandem. He moaned, which seemed to encourage Billy to do more. He ghosted his tongue over the sensitive region of the tactician's scrotum, holding Machiavelli's thighs apart. Niccolo felt like he was going to swoon. "I'm close…"
"Does it feel good?" Billy asked.
"Are you kidding?" Machiavelli asked, sounding a bit hoarse. His toes flexed instinctively.
"I'm sorry if I scrape you with my teeth sometimes," Billy said, moving his hand up and down and taking a breath in. "You have a big dick and I have a small mouth, believe it or not. It's not the ideal combination."
"It doesn't bother me at all."
The outlaw snorted in a way that suggested he doubted the Italian immortal's sincerity, but Niccolo was too preoccupied with what his partner was doing to rebut anything the outlaw said. Feeling himself on the edge, he thrust his hips forward. He came quicker than he thought he would, in rapid strokes. Billy was swallowing- it pushed him over the edge at last.
"Mmpfh," the outlaw groaned, crawling over to Machiavelli's side and cuddling up beside him. "Mac, you were so good…"
Machiavelli swallowed, feeling completely wrung out. "You weren't bad yourself," he croaked. He shook his head, feeling faint in a good way. Turning over slightly, he wrapped his arms around the Kid, hearing Billy's heart thud, they were so close. "Do you actually enjoy doing that or are you just doing it to please me?" Machiavelli asked, genuinely curious. He was beginning to feel a little guilty about not reciprocating oral sex, but he couldn't stop himself from accepting it from Billy, not when the American immortal was so willing to offer it.
"I actually like it quite a bit," Billy said, pushing Machiavelli back onto his back. "And I'm getting better at it too, aren't I? The lube helps. Makes everything less… tacky." Kissing the tactician, he laid on his back, looking up at the shadow passing on the ceiling above them.
"You're amazing at this," the tactician said. He blushed this time- he couldn't help it.
Billy looked at him and beamed. "Really?"
"Really."
"Oh, Mac, I love you so."
Machiavelli felt so much in that instant, he couldn't say any of the things he wanted to say. He grabbed Billy's hand and kissed the back of it. He hung on, squeezing occasional pulses over to the outlaw, who lay with his head against Machiavelli's shoulder, looking drowsy and happy. "We'd better get dressed," Machiavelli finally said, reluctantly. He looked at his watch. "They've got to be coming back here soon."
"Think so?" Billy asked. He wrapped his arms around the Italian's chest, as though trying to keep him from getting up. "But we're having so much fun."
"It would be less fun to have Black Hawk come bounding in here with the two of us like this, don't you think?" Machiavelli said in his ear.
Billy groaned a little, but he rolled over and draped his legs over the side of the bed. "Right," he said, sounding discombobulated. "I'll get dressed." He looked back at Machiavelli. "Are you going to get dressed too, or are you just going to watch me?"
"It is exciting watching you," Machiavelli teased, lying back on the bed.
"We're in this together, partner," the Kid told him, coming over and leaning down. "If I have to get dressed, so do you."
Machiavelli could feel himself smiling up at the other man. "That sounds fair…"
"Oh, come here," Billy laughed, pulling him up into a sitting position. "I'm glad you missed the show, honey. Stand up for me. I'm going to dress you."
"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow.
"Yes," Billy decided. Machiavelli didn't argue. He liked the way the American immortal moved around the room naked. He liked the slight curve of his ass and the way he could see the darker skin of his testicles whenever Billy bent to scoop something off the floor. He made no effort to help the American immortal gather their clothing. A slight huff from the other man indicated that he wasn't being very subtle.
"You're getting aroused again," he pointed out.
Billy jerked it in three quick movements. "I don't know if I'll be able to get it up again tonight though. There's got to be some recovery time." He tossed Machiavelli's nightclothes on the bed and helped slide a pair of boxers up into place. "You must be feeling it. There wasn't a lot of actual cum the last time."
"You sucked me dry this time."
Billy laughed at that. Where he had been aggressively sexual before, he was very tender now. The careful way he dressed Machiavelli made the Italian's inner thighs quiver with a different but no less powerful sense of desire. "There," Billy told him at last. "You look just like yourself again. Except for the hair. You might want to fix that, querido."
"I should." He touched the side of Billy's face. "I-," he began, but they heard the unmistakable sounds of the garage door opening two floors below them and they both jumped. "I'll go fix it now."
"I'll get dressed," the Kid said mournfully.
Machiavelli stepped into the bathroom and glanced in the mirror. Except for the tousled hair, he didn't think it was obvious what they'd spent the last couple of hours doing. He hoped Billy had the presence of mind to crack the window or do something in their room. Scatty might know that they were dating, but he wasn't prepared for her to know everything they did just yet.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he was a little amazed to hear Billy's voice already downstairs. Hoping against hope that the American had actually gotten dressed before he came down, Machiavelli went down the final set of stairs.
Billy was leaning on the baluster, talking to Perenelle. He glanced up the stairs at the Italian as the tactician made his way down. "Good shower, Mac?" he asked as casually as he ever sounded, but there was a slight upward pull to his lips that belied his cheeky manner.
"It was okay."
"Just okay?"
Machiavelli stepped on his foot 'accidentally' as he passed and Billy made a little yelp.
Black Hawk came up the stairs from the garage, leaving a trail of outerwear behind him. "Well, you look happier," he said, glancing at the outlaw. "What did Machiavelli do, get you a hooker?"
Billy turned flaming red. "You can't say things like that in front of Perenelle," he hissed, looking fairly offended. "Besides, I don't pay for sex."
"Yeah, since when?"
"Since always. I don't pay for sex," the outlaw insisted, following Black Hawk into the living room.
"But you've hit a bit of a dry spell the past few decades, haven't you…" They continued to squabble as they disappeared from sight.
Perenelle sighed a little, but she was smiling nonetheless. "He does look happier than he was this afternoon," she told Machiavelli. "What did you do?"
"Oh, we just spent some time together, talking," he said, hoping he sounded offhanded. "I'm- I'm very fond of him."
"Of course you are. You saved his life."
"He saved mine," Machiavelli said, very quietly. "I think he's still a bit sad under the brash exterior though."
"He's disappointed he hasn't found his mother yet," Perenelle theorized. They stayed in the doorway of the living room, hanging back.
Machiavelli nodded. "That's what I believe. I think he needs a distraction. Give him time to think things over instead of just rushing into the next quest."
"Can you think of a good distraction for him?"
Machiavelli hesitated. "I have something in mind." They both turned, hearing footsteps coming up the steps. "There you two are," Machiavelli called, seeing Scatty and Nicholas. "I wondered if you bothered to come back."
"I was making popcorn on the stove," the Alchemist told the Italian immortal. "Scatty stayed with me to keep me company." He led the way into the living room.
Machiavelli took a seat on the couch. Billy was draped in his armchair. "Billy? How big is your place in New Hampshire?"
The outlaw blinked in surprise. "Pretty big actually. It's an actual house. Why?"
"You mentioned earlier that you used to spend Christmas there every year. I thought maybe we could go up there to celebrate, especially since there are so many of us."
"Oh, yeah, I liked that place. We used to go skiing, remember that?" Black Hawk broke in. He tossed his balled up socks at the Kid. Billy swatted them away absently.
Billy frowned, more in thought than because he was upset. "I haven't been there in years… It might be quite a mess."
"I'd help you clean it up, if you wanted to go up there a week or so before Christmas. Scatty could come help, if she wants," he added courteously, glancing over at Scathach. She nodded, scrutinizing not the American immortal, but the Italian. He willed her to understand it all, not just the diversion, but the choice in the diversion.
"It might be a good idea for us," she said. "We could spend a couple weeks up there at least. There's a lot of us in the area now- the Flamels, me, Black Hawk and Billie, you, Niccolo, Fred, and I just heard from Joan that her and some of the European immortals might stop by at some point in time."
"Well, jeez, it's a house, not a hotel," he said, but he laughed. "Maybe we should go up there…"
A glint came into the Italian immortal's eyes. "Do you skate?" he asked Billy.
"Ice skate?" The outlaw asked dubiously. "Ehh… It's not exactly what I'd call a strength of mine…"
"Oh, this could be fun to watch," Black Hawk said, a wide grin breaking across his face.
