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With Everything I Have
With Everything I Have
With Everything I Have
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With Everything I Have

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Sebastian has a problem. He's in love with his best friend Peter and has been since their schooldays when they were outcasts together. His pining is so obvious that all of London knows, even his frustrated mother who just wants him to be happy. The only person who doesn't know is Peter. An abusive childhood with a controlling father left Peter emotionally detached and socially anxious and now he mostly hides himself away in his house where he designs the unique, fast cars that are status symbols among the town's elite. People would kill to own a single one of Peter's cars. Sebastian owns four. The meaning in that is obvious to everyone but Peter.

In a late Victorian England where cars exist, even though they aren't exactly comfortable, and computers allow the shy to avoid human contact , a progressive spirit has led to a begrudging acceptance of the sexuality of certain members of society. The sodomy laws have been repealed so that two men might spend the rest of their lives together, but that is no guarantee of happiness. Peter risks his neck driving at dangerous speeds for fun but sees passion as something to be frightened of. Sebastian has been struggling to get Peter to realize his own feelings for years but he is starting to worry that it may never happen. Peter seems to want no part of the future that Sebastian is offering him, on the surface at least. But a future without Sebastian might be something that not even a mind like Peter's can imagine.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherR. Cooper
Release dateNov 7, 2013
ISBN9781310438837
With Everything I Have
Author

R. Cooper

I'm a somewhat absentminded, often distracted, writer of queer romance. I'm probably most known for the Being(s) in Love series and the occasional story about witches or firefighters in love. Also known as, "Ah, yes, the one with the dragons."You can find me on in the usual places, or subscribe to my newsletter (link through website).www.riscooper.comI can also be found at...Tumblr @sweetfirebirdFacebook @thealmightyrisInstagram @riscoopsPillowfort @RCooperPatreon @ patreon.com/rcoopsBluesky @ rcooper.bsky.social

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    With Everything I Have - R. Cooper

    With Everything I Have

    R. Cooper

    Published at Smashwords

    All Rights Reserved

    Copyright © 2013

    This e-book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with someone else, please purchase a copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase please visit Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for reading and for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Content tags: references to childhood abuse/abusive and toxic parent, severe social anxiety, anxiety, ND character, offpage racism, use of old-fashioned racial slur, onpage sex

    Sebastian?

    Peter stood on the other side of the door in what might have once been crisp white shirtsleeves. He wasn’t wearing a dinner jacket, but his trousers were coal black and there was a cravat at his throat in the same shade. He was too pale for such a dark colour but there was something striking in how he always dressed so plainly. Peter’s face could have been the work of an artist, fine cheekbones and slender nose, full lips, and eyes the shade of Scottish whiskey. Ornament was not necessary.

    Despite the ancient claims of his family, there was more Norman than Saxon evident in the lean, unbelievably handsome lines of him. His eyebrows were what made him real, a man of flesh. They were too serious, bordering on thick despite the slight arch over the right one. His brows were the same dark brown as his hair, which someone, probably Smythe, who doubled as a valet when required, had tried to hold in place with pomade.

    A curl had strayed into Peter’s face despite Smythe’s best efforts. It nearly covered the grease mark by Peter’s ear.

    Sebastian gave a long sigh and tried not to glance too obviously at Peter’s half-dressed state. He didn’t get to see Peter dressed for the evening nearly as often as he’d like. Peter’s shirt had been cut to fit his body, emphasizing his slim hips and the startling breadth of his shoulders, yet Peter seemed entirely unconscious of the effect he could have had if he ever chose to venture out into society dressed in his finest.

    "I can see that you at least tried to remember that you had an engagement tonight." Sebastian smiled as he said it, unsurprised in the extreme that Peter had once again failed to appear at a party where he’d been expected.

    Peter froze. In the gas-lit hallway, flames seemed to dance from the brass fixtures to his eyes and back again.

    Sebastian was possibly in a cup too deep and indulging his love of poetry, but it had been a long night and Peter looked impossibly fetching in his stark black-and-white attire. Peter, of course, knew nothing of it, and widened his eyes when he caught Sebastian’s stare.

    Peter looked away first, with what could have been guilt darkening his cheeks. When he turned back, his gaze lingered on Sebastian’s far more decorative choice in evening wear—his tight waistcoat and then the perfectly starched cut of his collar against his throat. Unlike Peter, Sebastian was often dressed in his best. Unlike Peter, Sebastian had been at Harold’s dinner party.

    Sebastian took a moment to give Peter another considering glance, this time with a mind to Peter’s health more than his clothes. Sebastian was thought of as something of a dandy in most circles—he couldn’t help liking bright colours and soft fabrics any more than he could help having the good taste and admirable figure to wear them well. Tonight he’d chosen a green paisley silk waistcoat, with a jade pin in his cravat, and a rich velvet coat with a purple lining. He was willing to admit his choices were a touch dramatic but they had suited his mood. Sebastian had been of a mind to be noticed when he had dressed for the dinner, and jade made his eyes look clear and green as a cucumber. Warm brown skin from a Jamaican grandmother meant he could often wear the colours others couldn’t, and he delighted in doing so. Only his hair was safe from his peacocking impulses. That, he kept short and parted slightly off-center, the waves smoothed down with oil. His beard and mustache were small and carefully groomed.

    Peter was always clean shaven, Sebastian suspected more due to convenience than Smythe’s skill with a razor. Not that he blamed Smythe—the man was a butler not a valet—although in Peter’s unusual household the servants all seemed to do a bit of everything.

    Perhaps Peter was thinking of his staff, long since retired for the night, when he frowned in Sebastian’s direction and then out at the hallway leading to his bedchamber.

    What are you doing here? Peter had shadows under his eyes and grease along the beds of his fingernails. How he’d kept his shirt clean was a mystery.

    Sebastian put a hand out and leaned against the doorjamb, just shy of standing too close to Peter. That’s what I was planning on asking you. You were supposed to be somewhere tonight, remember? He had no doubt that Peter remembered. Peter had even dressed for the occasion. You’re fortunate Harold is one of the few men in London who is familiar with your habits.

    I had planned to go, Peter immediately excused himself, looking more than a little like a fox during a hunt. Sebastian imagined that was how Peter felt too, hunted. Even a harmless gathering of friends seemed instill in Peter a fear that was hard to explain. He followed through on only a third of the invitations he dared to accept and was generally a wreck afterward.

    At least you aren’t pretending that your work kept you. If he hadn’t been carrying a heavy basket, Sebastian would have crossed his arms. As it was he attempted a stern look that Peter didn’t seem to notice.

    That was a deception; Peter noticed everything. It was the reason he claimed to find the company of others so wearying. He said he saw and heard too much and felt as though he was on guard at all times. After years of knowing him and seeing his exhaustion in the days following such events, Sebastian no longer questioned it.

    He did, however, hate the cause of Peter’s fears with every shred of his being and remained resolved to counter it with all of his strength. So he dropped his teasing manner and lowered his voice.

    They missed seeing you, he offered. He had also missed seeing Peter, but that went without saying. The words he did finally

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