Jacob spent four days in his house thinking about it. He wanted to ask Evie about it but chose not to. He wanted to make use of Roth, in his trepidation and fascination; Jacob wanted more.
Roth had a thin red scarf around his neck hiding the bruises. He wore a dark brown suit and black shoes, and was standing on the stage when Jacob arrived.
"I like your scarf." Jacob mocked, crossing to the stage slowly.
"I'm a man of business, my dear. Got to keep up appearances."
"Red suits you."
"Purple suits you. Or are they going black now?"
"They're purple." He tapped his exposed throat. "I think it brings out my eyes." He laughed for a small moment, trying to get Roth where he wanted him; comfortable and susceptible to his touch. He wanted a hang on Roth to give him a warm mouth to cry into on cold nights, and to get an upper hand on Starrick. Roth was his way in, but it was like feeling around in the dark trying to get a grip on Roth; reaching blindly into an abyss. Sometimes he'd get it right, other times he wouldn't. He couldn't play Roth quite like he thought he could. Roth tried to get Jacob where he wanted him and that scared Jacob, because all he'd have to do was ask nicely.
"You came back, good. I've missed your adventures." Roth elaborated, stopping what he was doing and devoting his attention entirely to Jacob.
"I know you, Roth. I know what you want."
"It wasn't much of a puzzle, my dear." Roth smiled, opening his arms to placate his sarcasm.
"I came to talk business. No fun and games." Jacob sounded strict but wasn't.
"As you wish, partner. What do you want to talk about?" He gestured with his hand for Jacob to join him on the stage. "Come on: not afraid of the lights now, are you? A star like you."
"I want to renegotiate the terms. I'd like a cut of Blighters out of Covent Garden completely."
"Oh, well, this is dirty business; putting my boys and girls out of work."
"You can move them elsewhere."
"But then you won't want them there, I'm sure."
"Not necessarily-"
"Oh, of course necessarily! But because I like you, I'll think about it. Question is: what're you going to do for me in return if I do? What are your terms of agreement?"
"I'll leave the Alhambra alone unless absolutely necessary. We both get a bit of peace and quiet in a place we escape to."
"I'll think. I'll leave it with Lewis." Roth was intrigued by Jacob's harsh negotiations after last time. Did he have a script for this? Had he run lines?
"Out of all your men, why Lewis as the housepet?" Jacob interrupted Roth's train of thought with his nervous question.
"Turn and look at the back of the room. That's why." Lewis was pacing through the seats at the back of the auditorium noting sightlines for the stage. "Because he loves this as much as I do. Don't worry, he's no competition; it's the theatre he loves, not me." Roth moved closer to finish, paying Jacob his full attention again. "Still, he's good to me. Loyal, like a dog, but good." Maxwell explained quietly, tracing his fingers down the back of Jacob's neck as he stood behind him. Upon feeling the younger man shiver, he ducked in and kissed his neck.
Reacting, Jacob grabbed Roth by the arm, pulling him into a corner, aside from Lewis' field of vision. He let his hand linger on the older man's upper arm as he drew the other up to between his shoulder blades. Roth reciprocated his touch by wrapping his arms around Jacob's neck and lower back. They were pressed against each other in this dark, stifling corner of the theatre, wedged between two large pieces of flat scenery. Roth's breath was hot against Jacob's throat. Jacob leaned in to Maxwell's right ear to whisper to him, aware of Lewis presence in the auditorium.
"I don't want to cause a scene or disturb the peace and quiet, but I want you crying out my name." He breathed as lightly as he could, trying to keep his voice hushed. "I want you weak at the knees." He pressed a loose kiss to Roth's cheek as he pulled away, sliding his hands
He felt Roth's hand crawl across his waist like a spider, matching his vindictive smile. He dropped it to run along the inside of his thigh momentarily before dragging it cautiously up to his groin. He stroked Jacob's bulge through his trousers. Jacob had trained his attention on Lewis searching the room, Roth took him by surprise. He let out a strange, slight gasp.
"How's about we put on a show? All in good taste, of course." He began to pull them out of the corner they were pressed into.
"Give them something to look at, given all your lackeys do is look."
"That's unkind, Jacob. They're simple beasts. And in need of entertainment.
"Centre stage?" The assassin tilted his head, aroused by the idea Roth presented.
"I crave an audience." He confessed in a hushed tone, pulling Jacob's hair as he slipped his hand beneath the fabric of Jacob's trousers.
"But now?" Jacob queried, trying not to moan, sinking his teeth into his lower lip to stop it. He was more concerned about the matter at hand. "Tonight?"
"Why not now?" Roth's mouth curled upwards. "Relieve a little tension, improve business negotiations?" He murmured, curling his fingers around the length of Jacob's cock, pulling it free of the fabric.
Jacob's head fell back into his shoulders as he let out a loud, pitchy moan.
"That's some fierce negotiation, Mr Roth." Jacob whispered into Maxwell's ear. As the assassin spoke, he moved his fist faster along Jacob's cock. Roth nipped at the younger man's collarbones as he made suddenly longer, slower strokes. Jacob let out a breathy moan, trying to keep the noise down. He ran his fingers through Roth's hair to distract himself.
"Make as much noise as you like. Lewis doesn't mind, I pay him not to." Roth murmured, running his tongue the length of Jacob's bruised neck. When he touched the vein in Jacob's neck, he drew in breath and cried out, moaning heavily through his teeth to temper himself. The sound of the assassin moaning in his ear made Roth make faster strokes, causing Jacob to buck his hips into Roth's palm, moaning with every thrust. Roth couldn't help but watch in pleasure. "You like that, don't-"
"Mr Roth!" A shout came from close by them, cutting Roth off. Roth snapped his head up and slowed down considerably as he returned to breathe against Jacob's ear.
"Yes!" Jacob panted. Roth smirked at his reply, maintaining a slow, steady rhythm with his wrist. Jacob's jaw fell and he inhaled sharply, unable to draw the moan from his throat as Roth persisted.
"Fuck." Roth murmured, nipping at Jacob's earlobe before he pulled away.
"Keep going-slowly-" Jacob uttered. "-slow-" He panted. "-slowly-uhhh-" His breathing peaked and he groaned against Roth's hand as is came up to cover his mouth.
"Mr Roth!" The call came again. It was Lewis, getting closer and more impatient by the sound of it.
Roth uncurled his fingers suddenly, moving his free hand up Jacob's torso.
"Don't finish without me." He leaned closer and spoke against his hand pressed over Jacob's mouth. He pulled his hand away to suck his fingertips.
"You bastard, I was so close." Jacob panted, digging his fingers into Roth's shoulders and the roots of his hair. Roth grinned quickly, before dragging the fingertips of his free hand from Jacob's throat to his hipbone, paying care and attention to Jacob's reactions.
"Mr Roth, you've got a meeting." Lewis interrupted for the third time, arranging the last untucked chair at the table at the front of the stage. Roth sighed between heavy breaths and let his head fall against Jacob's shoulder.
"Business is business, my dear. It calls." Roth turned his head to speak to Jacob, pulling away from him to yell at Lewis. "Tell Starrick I'll be late. Get my coat and carriage." He stepped forward and got on his knees in front of the horny, vulnerable assassin. Roth heard Jacob's breathing catch in his throat at the touch as he ran his tongue along the length of Jacob's throbbing cock, catching the head between his sly lips and sucking Jacob to climax with a staggering moan and the tug of Jacob plunging his fingers into Roth's hair and digging them into his skin.
Jacob tried to control his breathing as he watched Roth swallow and stand up, doing his shirt back up and running his hand through his hair. He got dressed as he was when he arrived, apart from his hair being far more dishevelled and his cheeks flushed.
"You wanted me weak at the knees." Roth quipped, walking backwards away from Jacob. "Leave through the window in my office." Jacob nodded, seeing his chance to finally get at Starrick. "Come back anytime." Roth paced towards the stairs and out of the double doors leading to the front of the theatre.
Jacob climbed across the roof, having raced Roth's carriage there, and snuck in through an open window. He had stayed hidden beside a bookcase until Roth wandered over to peruse some financial document by the light of the window. He noticed something move out of the corner of his eye, reaching out to grab it as he turned. He balled his hands up in the fabric of its outfit and he yanked them forwards into the pale London daylight.
"Jacob?"
"Roth-" Jacob caught himself before he uttered more. Roth thought twice and then spoke again, louder.
"Jacob Frye! Nice of you to join us." Roth smirked as stared at Jacob, apologising by mouthing the word 'games' before he punched Jacob in the stomach. Winded, he was thrown off balance and, as a result, missed Roth's neck when he went to press his hidden blade against it, instead catching the sleeve of his fine, burgundy jacket. Roth angrily wrapped his hands around the assassin's throat and wrist, pulling him out from the shadows. Jacob resisted whilst trying not to ease into Roth's touch. "Come quietly, won't you?"
"The infernal Mr Frye, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Starrick looked right at him and, as was his way, looked right through him. Roth leaned into his ear as he struggled, pulling him across the room towards the Templar Grandmaster.
"Tired of not getting caught?" Roth whispered against the back of Jacob's neck. He held a knife to his throat to keep him still. "You've slipped, it seems. A bit clumsy for the bravest man in London, wouldn't you say? But you're here now." Roth interjected, dragging Jacob to one of the chairs facing Starrick's desk. Maxwell looked up at Starrick without lifting his head, glaring as he had a habit of doing but with faked caution. Roth was a better actor than Jacob thought.
"Just a bit of fun and games, you fucking murderer." The assassin hissed. Starrick's eyes were small and pale, staring into Jacob's heart.
"Jacob, my dear, ease it in." Roth hissed in Jacob's ear as he restrained him, pressing the knife flat against his throat for show.
"How emotional. I appreciate that you're a man of rules, Jacob, but I can't appreciate you in the way Maxwell can." Starrick's voice was sharper that Roth's. It was clearer and more caustic, but emotionless deep down. Starrick looked Roth in the eye with a smile before he sat back down in his chair, opening the ledger in front of him. "Hit him again." He turned the pages until they became blank. "Humiliate him, Roth. Why don't you kiss him, you're his biggest fan! Savour this moment before you beat him to a pulp." Starrick's eyes were dead. "Go on, I enjoy the spectacle." He urged, looking from Maxwell to Jacob with a cold stare and a flat, vacant smile. Roth looked from Jacob to Starrick and then back to Jacob, choosing not to think about why Starrick was doing this and to play the part like the actor he was. He moved the knife away from the assassin's throat but simultaneously moved his other hand up from Jacob's restrained wrist to his throat, keeping him still. He flipped the knife in his hand so that he pressed the handle and not the blade into Jacob's throat, using both hands to both pull him up and hold him down.
Roth leaned in, unflinching, and kissed Jacob on the lips viciously. There was no feeling in it: he didn't even close his eyes. Starrick watched as Jacob winced under Roth, acting up the kiss to fool Starrick into thinking him so easily beaten. He stared at them both as Roth pushed his tongue into Jacob's mouth, trying to make it mean something. He slowed down and made the pressure of his lips on Jacob's more deliberate, closing his eyes to urge Jacob to do the same. He did and kissed back, fighting with Roth for effect. Roth pulled away suddenly, breathing heavily as he addressed Starrick of his own accord.
"Can't I just throw him from the window and be done with him? I've changed my mind about pretty things. They damage too easily." He turned the knife back around in his hand and restrained the assassin again. Roth was trying to buy Jacob an escape without having to fight for it.
"You're lying, Roth. It's in your eyes. You know I wouldn't do this if it didn't go a way to pulling out this thorn from my side." He looked at Jacob then and spoke to him over Roth. "I don't fight dirty by choice, Jacob, but I will fight dirty to win." Starrick got up from behind the desk and came around to stand in front of them both. "I want you beaten down and broken completely, Mr Frye. You and your sister. London is my city of light, a Templar city. Maxwell and his Blighters own the streets and I own the rooftops." He seized Jacob's wrist and gripped it. "Kill him. But put on a good show."
Roth punched Jacob in the stomach again. It persuaded Starrick to return to his desk and observe from his safe distance. Jacob, in return, grabbed onto Roth's shoulder and pulled him to one side, punching him in the throat and in the side of the head as he recoiled downwards.
"What did you hope to achieve from this, Jacob?" Roth drew his head up to Jacob's as he grappled him, muttering into his ear. He pulled his foot back through Jacob's and knocked him off balance, allowing him to land a punch in the ribcage. Jacob groaned at the impact
"I don't know. I saw my chance to get Starrick and I took it." He swung at Roth's head, landing a punch directly on his eye, splitting the skin under his eye.
"Without thinking?" He hissed again. "Either I kill you or you kill me, darling. And I don't fancy my odds, you've got years on me." Roth tried not to whisper this time because he meant it but couldn't risk Starrick hearing. Jacob released his hidden blade and tried to jab it into Roth's arm to incapacitate him. Roth dodged Jacob's attempts, but leaned too far the wrong way and Jacob grazed the scar on his cheek.
In pain, Roth lashed out and clipped Jacob across the head at the wrong angle, knocking him back towards the window, and splitting his lip open. He reached out, determined to finish Starrick's voyeurism prematurely, and tugged Jacob by the collar towards himself. The blood coursing from his lip stained his clothes and dripped onto Roth's sleeve.
"Do what you do best." Roth whispered as grabbed Jacob's throat with one hand. Jacob saw the real threat at Roth's hands and grasped onto his wrist with both of his hands, trying to prise him off. "Covent Garden. Slink into a corner." Roth lifted him up enough to lean him over the edge of the window frame, leaning him backwards. Jacob was too forceful in fighting before Roth freed him and twisted it the wrong way until the clicked. Roth recoiled in pain, yelling at Jacob as he pushed him backwards out of the window, hoping he'd land on something that wouldn't break any bones.
And that was Jacob Frye, as far as Starrick was concerned. If he wasn't dead from the fall, he was certainly badly injured.
Roth had judged it right. He'd pushed Jacob out onto a carriage top, his own to be precise. He couldn't have known, but he had hoped; and for a man like Roth that was something terrible.
Exhausted and stinging, Jacob sat in Covent Gardens and tried to think about what had just happened to him, and what he had just done. He sat until his ribs ached from the cold and felt nothing but confusion and uselessness. He walked back to a place he considered safe to heal his wounds and get some rest. Wearily, Jacob pushed the door open and was hit by a feeling of emptiness. The room was cold, Evie wasn't home and hadn't been for some time judging by the temperature. Jacob shut his eyes and touched his sore lip gingerly. The cut on his throat ached and his bleeding knuckles stung. His head throbbed, and he had opened the door to this.
It didn't bother him usually, but today he felt the cold. It pricked at his skin. It wrapped around him as he sighed and closed the door again. He shut the door behind himself as he walked away.
A Blighter collared him leaving the Strand, yanking him to the ground as he pulled him forwards. He scraped his knees on the uneven stones, looking up at his assailant with anger.
"Rough day, little fish?" He took his chance and swung at Jacob's head, smacking him in the mouth.
"Rough day screwing your boss-sorry-your old man." Jacob's eyes were black and his mouth was red going into this brawl. He smirked at the red-jacketed brute and his partner as she kicked him in the stomach. Jacob retaliated, grabbing her leg when she tried it again, slamming his hand into the back of her knee then forcing his weight on the front of it to fracture the bone as he swept up, knocking the knife strapped to her leg out of its holster as she tripped. She cried out as she fell to the floor, struggling to reach the discarded knife from where she lay. Jacob dragged his foot beneath him, drawing it up and kicking the male Blighter in the ankle. He lost his balance and stumbled backwards, giving the assassin time to dance behind him and get hold of his flailing arms. He dug his fingers between the thug's fingers on one hand and bent them backwards, breaking the middle and index finger with a scream. Then swiftly gripping his other arm and twisting it behind his back, turning it grotesquely and sharply until his wrist broke. Without thinking, he dropped the dead weight of his opponent, stepping back from his work for a moment. The woman shouted a slur at him, compensating for the searing pain in her leg as she dragged her body across the ground to reach her knife. He looked down at her with a passive calmness that took over his body, something that compensated for his wounds, and moved towards her slowly. He stood over her as she hissed at him and clawed for the knife, noticing as she caught it in her fingers and grasped it how she brought it up towards his ankle. He reacted, feeling the cold night air down the back of his sweating neck, standing on her wrist with enough force to make her drop the blade. He listened for the snap that told him to stop, and stumbled away from her shouting. "Give him my love." The youngest Frye twin muttered without looking back at the rival gang members lying on the street. He just carried on with his walk.
London was quiet that night, peaceful for a change. He looked up at the sky once or twice for smoke to make him change his mind but found none and, so, carried on. He walked slowly but decidedly through the streets until he saw the glow of the lights.
He climbed the outside wall with bleeding hands and bleeding knees. The assassin was weak when he crawled through the French window into Roth's office. Roth wasn't startled by his intruder, or if he was he didn't show it. Jacob caught his breathe as he glanced at Roth's injuries.
"Please come with me." His voice was tired and almost emotionless. Jacob looked Roth in the eyes and Roth saw this star fall as he observed Jacob standing before him. The assassin stretched out his hand in invitation as Roth had done a week ago when he offered him to dance.
"Alright, my darling." Roth's voice was calm and tempered, almost gentle, as he stood up with ease and took his hand. He walked with Jacob out to the hall and down the stairs, tentatively holding his hand until he had crossed the auditorium and the stage and reached the nearest dressing room backstage. It was almost too dark to see until Jacob dropped his hand to light the lamp in the corner of the room, and even then it still cast shadows over the floor and onto the cheap, stained bed.
Jacob took it again in his own, raising it to his mouth and pressing a long, slow kiss to Roth's knuckles with his split lip. There were smears of blood on Roth's hand that smudged onto Jacob's as he silently followed the assassin's lead and wound their fingers together.
"I've got you." He said, moving carefully, treating the wounded assassin like he did his crow. His hands were gentle and his eyes were sincere. He lost his spite at the sight of Jacob weak; it forced him to confront his humanity, and the man that reminded him of that, damaged. Jacob looked up at Roth before he walked them both back to the bed. He snaked his free arm loosely up to hang around the back of Roth's neck, running his thumb across his throat softly. Roth used the fingers of his free hand to touch Jacob's swollen and split lower lip, all thick and the colour of a cheap red wine. "Darling-"
Jacob interrupted Roth by sitting him down on the bed, standing between his knees, letting Roth adjust his free arm to fall around his waist. Jacob slipped the hand that was around his neck to the lapels of his jacket, beginning to slide it off Roth's slim shoulders. Maxwell pulled their fingers apart but chose not to interfere with Jacob taking his jacket off. The slow, staggered movements the assassin was making were hard to watch but Roth did, taking in the tension of the muscles in Jacob's neck when he turned his head and how they exacerbated the love bites. Distracted, the older man pulled his hands out of the sleeves and put the jacket at the top of the bed, away from them both.
"Lie down." Jacob told him as he tugged his coat off by the sleeve cuffs. He allowed the older man to help, yearning for his touch, letting his hand run across his chest to his shoulders to slide it off without catching. Jacob let his coat drop. Roth then complied, lying down on the bed, curious but concerned about the lethargic assassin.
Jacob caught Roth's eye as he snapped out of a thought, smiling softly before mouthing the words 'thank you' and climbing onto the bed with him. He crawled into Roth's arms; leaning his back against Roth's strong chest, letting their legs tangle together, feeling the heat of Roth's body emanate through his.
Maxwell smiled into Jacob's hair, kissing his scalp as a gesture of safety.
"I've got you, darling." He whispered to him as he dug his fingers between Jacob's, feeling his heart thump in his chest. Jacob closed his eyes, collapsing into Roth's arms completely. Roth reached over to his jacket, trying not to move, and pulled it across to drape over Jacob's stomach. He stared into the dim light for a while, breathing steadily, wondering how broken Jacob could have been to come here for this. He felt Jacob's chest rise and fall beneath his hand, paying attention to that instead.
"I know you're listening." Jacob sleepily murmured into the calm silence. He clenched his fingers tighter to Roth for a second. Roth's quiet laugh rippled through his chest, Jacob could feel it against his back as he feel asleep in the warmth and comfort of the entrapment of one of the worst men in London. Roth concentrated on holding Jacob so close to him for a minute or two before lulling off, cradling the injured assassin swathed in his jacket.
His lip had stopped bleeding when he woke up. He was coaxed awake by slow, longing kisses on his neck; marks of adoration. Their hands had come loose in their sleep but were still near each other.
They were intent on breaking the other to control one for their own fun and games. By sordid, honest love or by brass knuckles, fires and death: Jacob and Roth were dangerous lovers but were not entirely in love. Not quite.
Roth continued his trail of deep kisses up Jacob's neck and jaw and towards his lips. Jacob elicited small moans and searched behind himself with his hand to draw it into Roth's hair. He turned himself over and leant up on his elbows, trying to kiss Roth but resulted in sucking his lower lip instead because he moved. He saw Jacob go to try and moved purposefully.
"I've got something that'll make you feel better." Roth grinned suggestively.
"I feel alright, it's just a few cuts and bruises." Jacob defended, dropping his head back into Roth's hand.
"And a cherry split lip, bloody knuckles, and bleeding knees to name a few. You're the picture of good health."
"So I'm a bit beaten up. I was feeling sorry for myself-"
"No apology necessary! You tore open your knuckles giving me a black eye and an awful headache, I sprained my wrist splitting your lip, bruising your ribs, and throwing you out of a window. We kissed and made up." Roth's eyes were calm for a moment, before they dilated in anger. "I didn't want to hurt you, my dear. It was Starrick. We had to put on a show. He's a perverted prick. He makes me sick that I ever got into bed with him, as it were."
"We're not very good for each other. We play dangerous games."
"All in good taste, Jacob, darling." He flashed Jacob a grin. "Speaking of which, I have one in mind to ease our pain. Something delicate." He stroked his hand through Jacob's hair. "Mutual masturbation. Getting our hands a little dirty together."
"With a distracted audience though? Can I make a suggestion, I'll humour you."
"Gamble." He encouraged him.
"Blindfolded. A performance for one. One watches while the other controls the show." Jacob was excited by his own suggestion.
"Some light influence. A gentle nudge in the right direction." Roth hummed. "Jacob, my dear, you're know how to make a man weak." He removed the red cravat, the one he had worn the previous day as a scarf, from his breast pocket, tossing his jacket back onto the bed. "May I?" He spoke playfully, showing Jacob the material before he offered.
"You go first." Jacob suggested.
"Try me." The older man smirked, accepting the blindfold wilfully. As soon as he'd tied it, Jacob placed a kiss on the side of Maxwell's neck.
"One for the road." He commented, leaning back against the end of the bed, looking over at Roth. "I want you to think of me-kissing your neck." Jacob instructed and Roth took hold of his erection, moving his fist up and down it, slowly at first. "I'm going slowly. Sucking your skin between my teeth. My fingers touch your chest. I put my finger in my mouth and then I put it in yours. You're sucking it, slowly at first, then harder-and faster-" Roth quickened his pace, beginning to moan at the feeling. Jacob's breath began to shake as he found it hard not to get aroused by his fantasy. "I kiss your collarbones and your chest; running my tongue across your nipple, pinching it between my teeth, sucking it gently. I slide my hand down and touch your cock-running-" He paused to watch Roth arch his back in pleasure, moaning at the thought, he slowed down to keep pace. He struggled to keep his hands down. "-running my hand down its length. I curl my fingers around it and slide my hand slowly to the tip. I pull my finger out of your mouth and I rub your saliva on the head, before-" Roth's groan was guttural and from the back of his throat. He brought his other hand up to play his nipple at the same time, pinching it until it was erect. "I close my mouth over the head and move it down, tasting you. I keep going, moving faster, then slowly; prolonging the pleasure. You're so hard for me." Roth's moaning became explicit and beautiful. His breathing tore at his throat as Jacob's became heightened and he moaned lightly, watching the way he'd affected Roth.
"Jacob-" Roth moaned, hard.
"I suck harder and slower. I stop. I suck fast and hard-"
"Ja-jacob-aahhh-" Roth came into his hand with a cry. He was out of breath, begging for a release. The assassin was heavily aroused and dying to put on the blindfold but forced himself to wait and take in what he'd made of Roth.
Roth wiped his hand on his stomach and teased off the blindfold, looking straight at Jacob.
"My darling, what a show."
