Moon Flower

From his vantage point near the window, he could observe the hustle and bustle of the sidewalk below, and also hear the energy of it. There was a certain merriment this evening, possibly due to the break in the weather, and if he were looking for a willing customer, he would undoubtedly find success near the tavern.

The unpleasant memory of waiting in the elements for the right prospect to come along made his stomach sour. He would be back at it soon enough, so he pushed the thought aside. He stored his drawing pad in his bag as the men lined up near the door, barefoot, in only their undergarments.

His stomach tightened with exhilaration. He was about to observe the evening’s events, and it did not feel filthy or wrong here at Moon Flower, as if inside these four walls they were immune to society’s view of such things.

And the way the men prepared for their evening felt almost sacred.

“How do we look?” Wren asked Galen as he padded closer to them.

“And smell?” Percy quipped. He’d stayed in his bath the longest, causing Charles and Francis to pace the room, worried they might run out of time.

“You smell nice. But you look cold,” Galen teased, and the others laughed.

“Don’t worry, things will not stay cold and shriveled for long,” Oscar said, placing his hands on his hips, practically begging for Galen to flatter him. Given Oscar’s excitement about the evening, he was likely already plumped up, and Galen was not interested in finding out if he was correct.

“You’re scalding my eyes,” Edward scoffed, pretending to cover his face, and it was nice to hear the normally sullen Edward poke fun.

“That’s obviously a bloody lie,” Oscar teased back.

When Galen’s gaze met Azriel’s, Azriel smirked and rolled his eyes at their antics. He always seemed the most mature of the group and above the fray, but tonight his rosy cheeks made him seem younger, more demure. Was it because of his state of dress? Or perhaps his anticipation of the evening’s event? If his memory served, Azriel had appeared almost shy when the gentleman took his flower.

“I bet you’re hoping for Mr. Walters to be in attendance,” Bellamy told Oscar.

“And why should I not? He’s pleasant enough to look at,” Oscar replied, and Galen tried to remember the gentlemen he’d observed last week, but there was too much to take in at once, and his head was still a bit fuzzy on the details.

“And has a nice cock,” Bellamy added, and this time Galen’s face blazed. He’d heard them mention different gentleman callers during the week, but never in this straightforward a manner.

“That he does,” Oscar mused. “I cannot be the only one looking forward to fucking.”

Some murmured in agreement, while others, like Charles, seemed affronted.

“You know very well some only seek companionship,” Charles said, and Galen wondered if he was referring to himself or their gentleman callers. Galen knew what it felt like to be lonely, and the sobering sentiment was apparently felt by all as a hush fell over the room.

“And some prefer to watch,” Percy said. “Like Mr. Blackburn.”

“He doesn’t partake?” Galen asked before he could stop himself. Bellamy had mentioned voyeurism earlier in the week, and it was too enticing a topic not to ask about further.

“There are all sorts of tastes, as you already know.” Wren gave Galen a knowing glance, and his face heated. He did know that, of course. But this was a different setting altogether. There had been no time to consider these things in any of his encounters, only efficiency.

“Some men enjoy the same partner—a comfort, if you will,” Sparrow said, his gaze softening when his eyes met his twin’s, and Galen’s chest ached at the longing he felt right then—to have someone, anyone, provide him any sort of constant comfort.

“And others have ravished all of us in one way or another,” Oscar added salaciously, making the others chuckle. “But the one to ask about Mr. Blackburn is Azriel.”

Galen fought to keep his features impassive despite his surprise. Sliding his gaze from Oscar to Azriel, he saw the man shift uncomfortably, and Galen felt sorry he’d asked in the first place.

And now that Galen was looking at him fully, he could scarcely tear his eyes away from his lean form, his smooth skin, his bare feet…and it somehow felt scandalous in light of the subject.

Was Mr. Blackburn the gentleman who’d chosen Azriel last week? It made Galen feel strangely unsettled. Not that he didn’t know what this place was or what was about to transpire. It was more that he wondered what Azriel might be like behind closed doors and in the throes of passion.

“I’d prefer to remain discreet,” Azriel replied, studying his toes.

Oscar pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“Until you need my discretion, of course,” Azriel lobbed back, and there was tittering as Oscar’s face turned red.