“All right.” Jay scrolled through what appeared to be a lengthy notes file on his phone. He’d dropped what Sebastian was quickly coming to think of as his London voice, in favour of the light but distinct Geordie accent he’d fallen into last night. “So we’ve got a few options.”
He sat atop the small kitchen table as Sebastian stood at the hob, making breakfast. It wasn’t a huge production—just bacon and eggs, really—but it was the first time he’d prepared a proper meal in what felt like ages. For weeks, he’d been living off toast and takeaway; he hadn’t had the energy for anything else.
It felt good, doing something he knew he could do well.
“There’s a painting up in Lythe that’s not far,” Jay announced. “Also an old sword from Sudan down in York, and an emerald necklace that’s going to be in Richmond for a few days.” He grinned indulgently, as if offering a trip to the funfair. “Your pick. Whichever you’d like.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him. “You planned this.”
Jay shrugged. “I anticipated.”
“All right.” Sebastian flipped the bacon, smiling a little. “Tell me about the painting.”
“It’s a Klimt,” Jay said, only glancing occasionally at the phone—he’d clearly memorised much of what was written there. “Gastein. Bought by a local bloke called Gareth Talbot in the nineties. He died a few years back, and his wife decided to sell it—only when she tried to put it up for auction, it turned out the piece was stolen. By Nazis.”
“Quite a lot of art went missing around the end of World War II,” Sebastian recalled. “I’m sure that Klimt paid for a cosy retirement in South America.”
Jay nodded. “The Nazis originally ‘confiscated’ the piece from a Jewish family in Austria, and they’ve got grandkids who are still around. They want it back, but Mrs. Talbot wants full market price before she hands it over.”
“And that’s legal?”
“So long as it’s on British soil, the Limitation Act applies. Talbot bought the painting twenty years ago, and he didn’t know it was stolen when he did. So his widow has legal title.” He nudged Sebastian’s leg with his foot. “Want to do that one first?”
Sebastian’s smile grew a little wider. “‘First?’”
Jay grinned back at him. “No reason we have to do just one.”
Gustav Klimt’s Gastein was currently on the wall of a mansion up near the village of Lythe. The house had been built sometime in the late sixteenth century; while it was once the seat of a considerable estate, over the years most of the family’s land had been sold off to cover debts. Now, only a few acres remained.
The mansion was surrounded on most sides by woodland, but it sat at the top of a rise; an approach from the driveway would be too exposed, even at night. Instead, Jay parked the car at the opposite end of the grounds, in the shelter of the trees, so he and Sebastian could move in on foot. They hadn’t brought much equipment with them, although Jay had a portfolio bag slung over his shoulder.
Jay had used his access to Different Computing’s phone backup archive to snoop through Bethany Talbot’s emails. She’d exercised some caution upon learning her painting was stolen property, and Jay had found a purchase receipt for a home security system. It was the sort that ran locally, off the house’s Wi-Fi network; the cameras and sensors weren’t actively monitored, and would instead send an alert to Talbot’s phone if they detected anything.
There were sensors mounted at every possible point of entry, except one. A deep retaining wall surrounded the garden, and at the base of that wall was an arched wooden door, secured with a padlock and nothing else.
According to Sebastian, the door was once the tradesman’s entrance—used to bring supplies directly into the cellar and keep workmen away from the living areas of the house. It was now vestigial, too much fuss to properly demolish, and so it was locked up and largely ignored.
Sebastian lifted the padlock up off the door, tugging lightly at the hasp. It was relatively new, big and solid and intimidating.
With a little concern, Jay said, “You can pick it, right?”
In response, Sebastian slapped the side of the padlock, hard, with the meat of his palm. The shackle sprung open, and Sebastian quickly unhooked it from the hasp.
Jay stifled a noise, feeling a flush spread down his neck. Sebastian glanced at Jay from the corner of his eye, mouth twitching into a faint smirk.
The door was swollen from the damp, the hinges rusted; it took a bit of work to wedge it open and slip through into the tunnel beyond. The passage was reasonably wide, but huge chunks of plaster had crumbled off the walls, revealing the bricks beneath. A thick layer of dirt and dust covered the floor. Another door at the far end opened into a maze of crates and bottle racks—the wine cellar.
There weren’t any cameras inside the house—Talbot apparently valued her privacy—and the motion sensors were only installed on the ground floor and above. Jay and Sebastian had free run of the lower level, but they couldn’t move upstairs without taking care of the sensors first.
Jay checked his phone and groaned. No signal. “Did they build all these houses with copper mesh in the walls?”
“Just stone,” Sebastian replied. “A lot of it.”
It was mostly cellars and storage on this level, which offered a dearth of anything with a wired connection. There was, however, a home cinema—constructed sometime during the nineties and not significantly updated since, except for the addition of a digital projector connected to a streaming box.
“Got you,” Jay said, grinning fiercely as he pulled a tablet from his bag.
As he connected the tablet to the streaming box, a solid heat sidled up to his back. Sebastian was peering over his shoulder.
“Can I help you with something?” Jay grumbled playfully.
“I don’t usually get to watch you do this,” Sebastian murmured back. His hand settled at Jay’s waist, warm through the fabric of his hoodie. Even, soft breaths tickled Jay’s ear.
Using the streaming box as a foothold, it didn’t take long for Jay to worm his way into the house network. The sensors were all controlled from a central client; Jay just had to switch them into daytime mode, and the job was done.
“There,” he said, disconnecting his tablet.
Sebastian briefly squeezed Jay’s waist, humming his approval, and stepped back.
The stairs creaked a little as they made their way up to the ground floor, but not enough to be a problem. The master bedroom was up on the floor above them, and at this time of night Talbot would be sound asleep.
The room closest to the stairs turned out to be a library; there were a few paintings on the walls, but none that matched the photos Jay had found. The sitting room was also a bust, and Jay began to worry they’d have to venture upstairs—until they crossed through into the drawing room, where Gastein hung above one of the fireplaces.
According to Jay’s research, the painting depicted the Austrian town of Bad Gastein—a mountainside crowded with conifer trees and grand hotels, rendered in sketchy splotches of colour. Jay was no art expert, but the piece seemed a bit … boring.
“I thought Klimt was all about gold and naked bints with snakes,” Jay remarked.
“He only did a few paintings like that. Not that it made much of a difference once the Nazis decided he was ‘degenerate.’” Sebastian carefully lifted the frame a finger’s breadth from the wall, peeking behind it. “Doesn’t look like there’s an alarm.”
“Fuck’s sake.” Jay rolled his eyes. “It’s so easy it’s barely stealing.”
Sebastian laughed—not the dry huffs and cracked noises of the past few weeks, but an actual laugh, bright and genuine. He lifted the painting down from the wall; it was about two feet wide and equally as tall, fitting easily into Jay’s portfolio bag.
Then it was back downstairs, and out through the tunnel into the night air.
There was an exhilarated grin on Sebastian’s face as they strode quickly across the grounds, back to where they’d left the car; he was practically bouncing, and they were barely halfway across the field when he caught Jay by the elbow, pulling him in close.
He kissed Jay like he was starved for it.
Jay’s gasp turned into a moan as Sebastian’s tongue licked into his mouth. He tangled his fingers in Sebastian’s hair as Sebastian grabbed at his hips and hauled him in closer, until their hips collided and Jay could feel the very clear evidence of Sebastian’s arousal.
“Car,” Jay managed to say, between one kiss and the next. “Not here—car—”
They could not be caught shagging in a field outside the house they’d just robbed.
With a reluctant groan, Sebastian eased his hold just enough for Jay to wriggle out of his arms. Jay grabbed him by the wrist, towing him along on a mad dash for the car.
The drive back to the cottage was pure agony. It was lucky Sebastian wasn’t the one driving, because he couldn’t focus on anything but Jay: his sweat-damp hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck, his long fingers where they gripped the steering wheel, the spread of his thighs across his seat.
Giving in to temptation, Sebastian leaned across the console and squeezed Jay’s knee, hand sliding intently up toward his groin.
“Stop it.” Jay’s voice was stern, but he was smiling, eyes fixed on the road.
“You can’t drive any faster?” Sebastian asked, whining a little.
Jay laughed. “We have a stolen painting in the boot.”
Sebastian stilled his hand with a resigned sigh, although he kept it where it was on Jay’s upper thigh. Jay spared him a glance, then nudged the car just a little bit above the speed limit.
When they finally arrived back at the cottage, Jay barely had time to kill the engine before Sebastian lunged across the console, fisting a hand in Jay’s hoodie to drag him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss.
Jay moaned eagerly around Sebastian’s tongue, kissing back with equal fervour even as he fumbled blindly for the door latch. It sprang open, and Jay slipped from Sebastian’s grasp, giving him a teasing grin as he darted from the car.
He’d nearly reached the door of the cottage by the time Sebastian caught him, fumbling the key into the lock as Sebastian plastered himself across his back, mouthing at his neck, pawing at his hips.
Jay finally managed to turn the key; they stumbled through the door together.
Sebastian was buzzing, his heart racing, heat flooding his body. He couldn’t stop kissing Jay, couldn’t think about anything but the feel of Jay’s body against his own, the fevered brightness in his eyes, the glistening sweat along the slender line of his neck. He managed to get Jay’s hoodie and t-shirt off by the time they were halfway across the sitting room, bending to mouth hungrily across his shoulders, tasting his skin. Jay attacked Sebastian’s clothes in turn, tugging his jacket off and his jumper over his head as they stumbled upstairs to the bedroom.
Jay backed them toward the bed, a half-controlled tumble dragging them both down onto the mattress, and Sebastian wrestled Jay’s trousers and pants off, kissing down Jay’s belly, then lower—
The moment he dove between Jay’s thighs, Jay let out a pained yelp.
Sebastian froze and pulled away. “What?”
Jay’s hips shifted against the bed, a look of wide-eyed surprise on his face. “You’ve never done that with a beard before.”
Sebastian grinned up at him. “You like it?”
“No!”
A laugh slipped from Sebastian’s lips, and then Jay was grabbing at his face, pulling him up the bed to kiss him. Sebastian moaned into his mouth, rolling his hips down into Jay’s, letting him feel how much Sebastian wanted him.
Jay made an eager noise and broke away to lunge over the side of the bed, rummaging around in his suitcase where it lay open on the floor. When he returned, it was with a strip of condoms in hand.
“Let me guess,” Sebastian said. “You anticipated.”
Jay gave him a flat look. “Do you want to fuck or not, Moran?”
Sebastian sat up, hurriedly working his trousers and pants off. Jay shuffled up onto his knees, tearing a condom off the strip and unwrapping it. He rolled it onto Sebastian himself, and Sebastian let out a soft noise at the feel of Jay’s hands on him after so long. He rocked a little into the touch, eyes drifting shut as he rested his forehead against Jay’s for a moment.
Then Jay grabbed him by the arms and fell back onto the bed, dragging Sebastian over him. As Sebastian settled between his spread thighs, Jay reached down and took hold of him, guiding him in.
Sebastian sank into Jay’s body with an eager moan. Every sense was full of Jay, wrapped around him, cradling him. Sebastian might have been on top, but he was hardly the one in control; Jay’s legs were tight around Sebastian’s waist, slowing his frantic pace into an easy, indulgent rhythm. His hands came up to frame Sebastian’s face, moving it so Jay could look into his eyes.
“All right?” he said softly.
“Yes,” Sebastian breathed. “God, yes.” He kissed Jay’s chin, his neck, pressing as close as he could until there was barely any part of his body that wasn’t touching Jay’s.
Jay’s breathing was getting rough, needy sounds slipping from his mouth as they moved together. His hips arched up into Sebastian’s, grinding against him as he clutched at his shoulders, his back, until his breath hitched and shuddered out of him in a soft moan.
Sebastian’s forehead fell to rest against Jay’s again, and he lost himself in the feeling of Jay trembling around him until he, too, tipped over the edge with a ragged groan.
He had just enough energy to shift his weight a bit until he wasn’t crushing Jay to the bed; then he utterly collapsed, face tucked into the warm, damp skin of Jay’s shoulder.
The next thing Sebastian knew, he was laughing—a noise of sheer, hysterical relief as Jay’s body curled around him again and held him close.
Jay was already up by the time Sebastian returned from his morning smoke. The bathroom door hung slightly open, as if in invitation; from inside came a faint cloud of steam and the sound of water running, interrupted occasionally as a body moved around beneath the spray.
Sebastian had slept through the night. He’d woken as the sun peeked over the horizon and, for the first time in what felt like ages, hadn’t had to drag himself out of bed. He felt lighter.
He also couldn’t help recalling Jay’s remark about wanking in the shower. Sebastian nudged the door open a little further and slipped through.
The cottage had a standing shower, with a glass door; it was fogged with condensation, giving Sebastian a somewhat blurred view of Jay’s thin frame. He was flushed a little from the heat, the muscles of his back tensing and shifting under damp skin as he raised his arms to rinse his hair. Rivulets of water cascaded over his neck and shoulders, following the dip of his spine down toward his narrow waist.
Jay turned and didn’t seem at all surprised to see Sebastian standing there. “You coming in?”
Sebastian undressed in a rush, and Jay’s hands were on him the moment he stepped into the shower. He pulled Sebastian close, hauling him down by the neck for a thorough, demanding kiss. Sebastian groaned and opened for him, letting Jay lick into his mouth and bite at his lips as he ran his hands over Jay’s wet skin. Jay shoved at Sebastian’s chest, pushing him back against the wall of the shower.
The tiles were cold, the sensation unwelcome and painfully familiar, but Sebastian ignored it as best he could—especially when Jay was kissing at his neck, tongue running along his collarbone. He reached down to wrap a hand confidently around Sebastian’s cock, just as he sank his teeth into Sebastian’s shoulder.
Sebastian’s punched-out moan echoed off the tile, and a voice from decades ago laughed and said, “Hear that? He fucking likes it!”
More laughter, echoing around him, the changing room floor freezing against his skin—
Sebastian flinched, heart pounding and stomach churning as he blindly shoved his way out of the shower.
The cottage was too small for him to get far; he wound up against the bedroom wall, braced there as he dragged deep, gasping breaths into his lungs. The frantic hammer of his pulse began to slow, and he slumped against the wall, humiliation creeping in as the terror faded.
He was fine. He’d panicked over nothing.
A human-shaped blur drifted into his peripheral vision. Jay had a towel around his waist, and he held a second out to Sebastian—because Sebastian was dripping wet, the cool air of the cottage absolutely frigid on his bare skin.
Sebastian took the towel with a grateful nod and pressed it to his face for a moment, breathing slowly through the fabric. Then he scrubbed it over his hair and chest before wrapping it around his hips.
He stumbled to the foot of the bed, dropping gracelessly to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought I was done with this.”
The bed squeaked a little as Jay sat next to him. “I don’t think it works like that.” He tentatively touched Sebastian’s back, between his shoulders; Sebastian leaned into the contact with a quiet sigh, and Jay relaxed a little, stroking upward until his hand was a comforting weight on the nape of Sebastian’s neck.
“It was the tile, I think.” Sebastian took a shaky breath. “It reminded me of …”
The sentence wasn’t worth finishing.
Jay’s eyebrows pulled together. “Fucking brilliant jumping me in the shower then, wasn’t it?”
His voice was one hundred percent pure Geordie, sharp and indignant and so utterly inappropriate a response that Sebastian couldn’t help the snort of laughter that ripped out of him. His eyes stung, and he squeezed them shut.
Jay’s arms came up around Sebastian’s shoulders, pulling him in close, and Sebastian hid his face in Jay’s neck. He felt Jay’s lips brush his temple. “I wish I was better at this.”
Sebastian made a soft noise of confusion into Jay’s skin.
Jay sighed and threaded his fingers through Sebastian’s hair, petting him. “It would be easier for you if I were … I don’t know. Nice.”
“I don’t want someone nice,” Sebastian mumbled back. Nice people had made sad faces at him, felt sorry for him, but none of them had done anything.
Jay had come to Sebastian in the dead of night to say the man who’d raped him was gone forever.
Sebastian wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually an alert sounded from Jay’s phone where it was charging on the bedside table. Jay grumbled and pressed an apologetic kiss to Sebastian’s hair, pulling back to retrieve it and swiping away whatever notification had appeared on his screen.
“There’s a nice cafe down in Robin Hood’s Bay,” he said, tossing the phone back down as he moved to retrieve some clothes from his suitcase. “We should go get breakfast.”
Robin Hood’s Bay was a tiny village perched on the coast, less than fifteen minutes’ drive from the cottage. By the time they’d reached the village outskirts, Sebastian seemed to have calmed down; he stretched out in the passenger seat of the car, head tipped against the window as he watched the countryside go by.
Jay’s own mood had yet to improve. He’d been so impatient to have his hands on Sebastian again that he hadn’t stopped to think. He’d just shoved Sebastian into the tiles, assuming he could do as he pleased—until Sebastian pushed him away and bolted.
In hindsight, it was less surprising that Jay had set him off and more a surprise that it hadn’t happened before that morning. For a year now Jay had been pushing Sebastian around in bed, and the whole time he’d risked dredging up Sebastian’s worst memories. He hadn’t known—hadn’t cared to know. Instead he’d played with Sebastian’s pain like a fucking toy.
And Sebastian had gone along with it—Christ, he’d practically offered himself up for Jay to use.
Jay couldn’t stop thinking about the way Sebastian had said “I have to,” the night he was arrested—the night he’d coaxed Jay into a disastrous attempt at sex and completely broken apart. How he’d forced down his own terror and revulsion, all for the sake of pleasing Jay.
It would’ve been so easy to let him. There was something awful and hungry and grasping inside Jay; it wanted to mark Sebastian, put him on his knees, own him, wanted to hurt him and make him scream. It terrified him, sometimes—how easily he could become yet another of Sebastian’s nightmares.
Robin Hood’s Bay was home to a handful of restaurants, most of them down in the oldest part of the village where the streets were steep and narrow. Jay parked the car further up the hill, and he and Sebastian walked the rest of the way to their destination: an old, lime-plastered building with a rustic breakfast cafe on the ground floor. The interior was jam-packed with mismatched tables; Jay claimed one while Sebastian went to place their orders at the antique Victorian bar.
As Sebastian wove his way back through the cafe, he glanced down at a newspaper one of the other customers had set aside. He paused, exchanged a few quick words with the man, then picked up the paper.
“Look,” he said, dropping it onto the table in front of Jay. “We made the front page.”
The leading story’s headline read, in huge excited letters, “Brazen Robbery in Lythe!”
“The crime rate round here isn’t exactly high.” Jay sighed and scanned the story. “Oh, look. They found a way to blame immigrants for it.”
Chapter 3 of “Moriarty & Moran’s North Yorkshire Crime Spree” will be published on May 18! To get it delivered directly to your inbox, subscribe here:
… And if that’s too long to wait, you can also get the completed story as an ebook.
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