Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
BAD AUGUST
NOTHIN’ BUT A GOOD TIME
Two hours later, we’re back to complete chaos. But to be fair, facing down the possible end of the known and unknown universe with August Blackthorne is more fun than it has any right to be.
His friends returned an hour later with the news that we fucked some things up. But not enough. We need more sex. Shashi was disconcertingly sharp-eyed when she suggested this, and while I’m not going to argue with her, I could use the tiniest bit of recovery time.
Also, we need to rob that cafe in case we’re stuck here longer than planned, so, it being dark early, we’ve all headed over there, stopping only briefly at a chemist where I stole some lube, because I just get the feeling we’re going to need it.
It’s easy every time I break into the cafe. A brick through the window, straight to the little lockbox, the key for which I stole this morning. In this reality, it’s weirdly stuffed full. Maybe they’re more of a cash society? I don’t even care. I swipe the lot.
They all came in with me, which is high-key ridiculous, but why not?
It’s not like the Jon and Shashi and Amber and August of this world will survive long enough to suffer any repercussions if someone recognises us.
And whatever wheels this group’s had keeping them sort of on track in their own world have well and truly fallen off.
They seem to have gone full tilt into anarchy, even if it is only robbery. For now.
They all, way too excitedly, stumble out of the cafe with me, then we just about fall over each other when no one recognises the street we find ourselves on.
Well, no one except August and me.
A mass of higgledy-piggledy buildings rises up opposite us; the smell of unsavoury and foggy London fills our nostrils.
My arm shoots out for August, and his chest is pressed against mine in a heartbeat. “Are we back?”
He’s so excited. Barely able to pretend even for his wondering, panicking friends that this isn’t the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to either of us.
I kiss him and confirm, yeah, we’ve slipped back into eighteen forty-four.
Most likely. He tells everyone the puddle analogy, describing the amazing pub down the street that we can absolutely go and get a drink in.
As usual, I can’t resist August. “This watch should buy us a round or two.” And I can always steal another.
He takes my hand and leads me down the street, talking all the while about the first time we came here. Our first ‘date.’
I wonder what would have happened between us if we hadn’t slipped that day. Would we ever have talked like that?
We carry on until we get to the edge of the main road, when Amber pulls back, looking down at her incredibly small skirt. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”
Maybe-Not-A-Complete-Asshole August shrugs off his coat, and though the spring air is warm, she wraps it around so it comes to mid-calf height, then doubtfully examines her tights.
“At least you’re white,” Shashi says, doing nothing to cover her tight jeans. “But we have to see this. Let them stare.”
Yet, perhaps unsurprisingly, once we’re inside, it’s Jon who steals most of the attention.
He clearly thrives in the spotlight, loving the wondering eyes on him, and strikes up conversation with some bewildered locals who never heard of hairspray, and who, it seems, think all that jewellery is real.
He tells them he’s a time traveller from the future, a famous singer, and even if they don’t believe him, it’s a great yarn for the pub.
Drinks are fast and copious, because August and I both know we’ll have to leave soon, whether that’s through closure of the bar or evaporation of this reality.
And it’s not long before beers and bravado have Jon breaking into song, giving them all a life-changing rendition of ‘Bed of Roses.’
August’s head tilts towards me as he watches on. “Is that why you weren’t worried about us changing history? Because you knew that history was about to be wiped out?”
“Yeah.” Apparently, I’m not ever going to get over the guilt of lying to him. “I am sorry about that.”
August’s fingertips toy with the edge of my shirt. “And that’s why you looked sad too.”
“Did I?” I’d never have known he was thinking that, had he not said it.
“There was always a sadness about you. It drew me in. I wanted to fix it. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I don’t see it there anymore.”
Lovely August. I’d do anything to kiss him right now. But I think Jon is enough of a shock for these people for one night.
That confidence in August’s eyes, in his words, is everything. To think I could have helped put that there. Just be being honest with him.
I think I might kiss him anyway. I think it’s worth—
“Is he really your boyfriend?” It’s Asshole August, talking to my August, interrupting what was about to be my best stupid mistake of the day.
“Who, Jon?” August’s had to follow the direction of his thumb to figure it out. “No. No, he was for a bit. But that’s done. Why?”
“Because… Because…” Evidently stumped for an explanation, he blusters out, “How does he sing like that?”
“It’s not his song,” I can’t help but interject.
Possibly a bad idea. I get a truly vicious glare for it before Asshole August storms off to sit several seats away from Jon, but close enough for Jon to know to start fiddling with his hair in response.
“Why is that August such an asshole?” I ask, watching him sit there like he’s not an actual assassin who tried to murder me.
“I don’t know…” August’s head drops to the side in mock study. “I think he’s kind of cute.”
“You do not—”
A kiss, quick and frank, cuts me off.
I’m not sure anyone saw it. All eyes are on Jon. And for that, I’ve never been more thankful.
“Not as cute as you,” he whispers.
This man…
One kiss is not going to be enough.
Maybe it’s the beers. More likely it’s that he’s the kind of lovely people write operas about. Either way, I glance towards the back door as meaningfully as I can. “Out of ten, how bad is it if I sneak you away to a private room?”
His eyes spark. “Ten. Do it.”
Our tankards hit the counter. My strides are fast and long, and there’s a ridiculous level of excitement bubbling up inside. I hope he’s behind me. I can’t chance a look back.
Threading through the large room, the air cools a little when we step away from the crowd and into a long and dark corridor. I have no idea where this hallway leads. No idea what I’m doing or how long until the barkeep comes after us. There isn’t time to think about any of it.
Relative darkness blinds me, his arm slips around my waist, and he’s got me pressed against the wall.
Kisses heated and urgent. Hands running down my stomach, pulling me close by the hip.
He’s so sexy.
I want him again.
Maybe he can see better than me, because the click of metal echoes out, a door handle twisting. There’s a breath of cold air, and I’m stumbling back at his instigation.
I have no idea where we are. I don’t care. He’s ripping my belt open, and I just fucked this man three hours ago. Thank god I managed to sneak a shower in.
My dick’s hard, out, in his mouth! It’s pitch black in here—pitch black and perfectly quiet, all but the sound of my ragged breaths and whispered exclamations. “What are you doing?”
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
I need him so badly.
I want to brace myself on something, anything, but it’s all darkness.
August lets out a moan, enjoyment echoing in his voice.
How is he taking me apart like this?
It’s all happened too fast, and now I’m unanchored, drifting into him, and he’s not wasting his time. He’s not teasing. He’s not playing. He’s going to bring me to the brink in about thirty seconds.
“Touch yourself,” I whisper. I need to know he’s enjoying this.
He shifts one hand from my thigh, and what I’d give to see him. Next time, I’ll just watch. I’m determined. I’ll watch him, and I’ll love every second.
The fantasy of him is at the forefront of my mind, a vision of his face when he makes himself come, thinking of me.
My eyes are shut tight. He’s all I want to see, all I want to feel. He’s all I want to experience.
His lips run hot over every inch of me, his tongue firm and indulgent. My body’s shuddering with bliss.
Blinding white lights my eyelids from the outside. I flutter them open, sinking fingers into his hair for stability. We’ve already lit the room through pure sex energy.
Every imagined fantasy that flashed before my closed eyes is now here on display in front of me. August so pretty on his knees, his big and hard dick throbbing for me, working himself, staring up at me like he gets off on me.
His hand hits my chest, he shoves me back, and I slam into the wall.
August’s up on his knees, and though I want him touching himself, he’s gripping my thighs now, going harder, deeper.
The colours are shifting as the pleasure builds.
There’s a glow, richer than the rest, that I’m aware of somewhere in the back of my mind.
But it’s drowned out by the pleasure. My body arches for him, he cups my balls, and I can’t even stop it.
His name breaks over my lips. His lips—they don’t pause.
He curls two fingers up behind my balls, just like I did to him earlier, and presses, intensifying the orgasm to mind-blowing.
He drinks me down, and he rips so much pleasure out of me as he does that I slam my head back.
The room turns pink, and I almost collapse.
The only thing holding me up is August, my fingers digging into his shoulders. His hands slip around my waist as he stands, presses his body to mine, then kisses me, all tongue, so delicious.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper. “But now it’s my turn.”
An ear-piercing scream sounds in the bar, and my overwrought body and mind can’t scramble fast enough to figure out what’s happening. I rip my pants back up as August turns towards the door, then stumbles to a halt.
There, just next to us, is a brand new rift. Glowing. Pulsating. “What have we done?”
He runs for the door, pulls it open, and we reach the hallway just in time to see the edge of the pub dissipate, becoming nothing but black.
His friends bolt from the encroaching void, everything sinking away and away.
He reaches out, grabs Shashi’s hand, her terrified eyes flinging back for Amber, who shouts for Jon and August, and we all dash into the room in a mad scramble.
August slams the door, but god knows why because it won’t exist in a matter of seconds. Without a thought, we tumble through the rift, out of this devastated universe and into the next, for better or for worse, till death do us part.