Chapter 11: A term he recognized.

"Yeah, yeah," the driver answered perfunctorily. "Yes, sir, nearly there."

As he spoke, he sneaked a glance at the rear view mirror and eased off the speed.

He’d worked for the Fitzgerald family for many years and had a fair idea what was going on. The young master was groaning and whining about his dizziness and headache while refusing every offer of medicine. It wasn’t real discomfort. It was flirting with his new fella. The two in the back were all cuddled up, playing some soppy game of "Let me lie on your legs" and "If you want to lie down, then lie down." The driver didn’t dare look in the mirror again and quietly pressed the brake instead.

Dublin, free of its daytime noise, had gone completely quiet. The streets were empty, with only a few cars passing every few kilometres. The driver cruised through the city at his leisure, almost as if he were on holiday. After a while they finally pulled up outside the hotel.

A doorman stepped forward to open the car door. Cian got up from Eoin’s lap and asked the system, "Is the closeness task done? How much longer?"

The system replied, "Twenty more minutes."

Cian clicked his tongue.

He’d been staying close the whole time and couldn’t give up halfway. He’d have to stay close for a while longer once they were back at the hotel.

Cian looked into the car. "Brennan, let’s get out."

College had long since closed for the night. If Eoin tried to go back, the porter would be livid. Besides, given Cian’s character, there was no way he’d let Eoin go at this point. So Eoin followed him upstairs without a second thought.

It was late and the night was chilly. Cian went into the room and straight on into the bathroom to run a bath.

The hotel bathtub was perfectly shaped, with a moderate flow of water. Leaning against the backrest, you could look out over the city skyline, and the neon at night made it quite charming. Ever since he’d checked in, Cian had fallen in love with baths.

Hearing the water running, Eoin knew it was for a bath. He fidgeted with his fingers, feeling nervous.

In truth, he had never expected to leave Cian’s place untouched.

Cian had secured a place on the experimental trial for his Nana. The drug hadn’t been approved domestically, and places were being sold at exorbitant prices on the black market, far beyond the reach of a poor student like him. On the principle of equal exchange, Eoin was willing to pay the price.

But he knew full well that the young master was from another world, and he had nothing to trade with him. His only assets were his looks and his body. As long as Cian didn’t trample on his dignity or do anything that would leave lasting damage, Eoin had no complaints.

Steam fogged the bathroom walls, and the frosted glass door grew even blurrier. Cian’s tall figure was hazy in the mist, and Eoin found he had been staring for quite some time without realising.

He closed his eyes and thought, If today, if today

If Cian asked him to fulfil his duty today, he would.

Before he could dwell on it further, three minutes later Cian pushed the door open and stepped out.

He was still dressed, in hotel slippers, and he flip flopped from the bathroom to the wardrobe. Under Eoin’s gaze he pulled out a bottle of essential oil, then flip flopped back to the bathroom.

Eoin was taken aback. "You?"

Cian, called out to, turned back. "Hm?"

Eoin felt awkward, having called out without knowing what to say. He asked stiffly, "Are you going to have a bath first?"

"Ah, yes," Cian said, pausing. "I’ve already run it. I’ll have mine first, and then I’ll run one for you."

With that he flip flopped back into the bathroom and shut the door with a soft thud.

Eoin said nothing.

He stared at the bathroom door, his ears burning red.

Heaven knew that the original Cian might have been a playboy, but that was the original. Cian himself genuinely had no idea what top tier rich kids liked to get up to, nor that a hotel bathtub could actually fit two people. He had no such awareness. He’d been drinking, his shirt smelled of booze, and he felt dizzy, so he wanted a bath and bed as soon as possible.

The sound of trickling water came from the bathroom. Twenty minutes later Cian finished a comfortable soak, thoughtfully drained the tub, and ran a fresh bath for Eoin before calling him in.

Eoin wasn’t sure how to describe his feelings. He shut the bathroom door behind him and slipped into the water.

The warm water enveloped his skin. He had once lived with his Nana in their old home in the west, where for a long time the house had no immersion heater and they relied on a turf fire and kettles. Only later, with a bit of government support, had they been able to wash properly. Soaking in hot water felt both new and soothing.

After washing he climbed out, wrapped himself in a bathrobe, and gently pushed the door open.

The main light was off, and a mound of blankets lay on the bed. Cian had already fallen asleep.

Eoin’s expression was complicated, unsure whether to feel relieved or something else. He sat on the edge of the bed a metre from Cian, who lay on his side with his face hidden in deep shadow. His brows curved like crescent moons, the bridge of his nose sharp and handsome, and his sleeping face was calm and peaceful, nothing like the rumours suggested.

Cian felt someone sitting at the edge of the bed, not moving. With his eyes still closed he patted the space beside him. "What are you looking at? Come up."

Eoin paused, then climbed onto the bed.

He lay stiffly at the edge, so close to falling off, but Cian patted the space beside him again in a commanding tone. "Why are you sleeping so far away? Come here."

There were still twenty minutes of closeness to go.

Eoin shifted slightly closer.

Cian pulled him over with a backhanded motion.

He simply held him, nothing more. His chin rested on Eoin’s shoulder and his hands hung neatly at his sides, like a big cat curling up in a cosy spot, and then he didn’t move.

He was so close that his breath warmed Eoin’s ear and sent a ticklish shiver through him. Eoin’s body, which had relaxed, tensed up again, and he fidgeted uncomfortably.

Cian, too sleepy to open his eyes, said, "Don’t move. Let me hold you for twenty minutes."

Just twenty minutes to go.

He stayed like that and drifted off to sleep.

*

The next morning, by the time Cian had finished getting ready, Eoin had already gone back to college.

Cian’s driver had taken him. He went to his rooms first to change into clean clothes and pick up his ID badge, then headed to the lab.

At the lab door Eoin checked his watch. It was just past half seven. Niall hadn’t arrived yet, but Aoife was already there. She clearly wasn’t working. She sat at her desk engrossed in something, eyebrows raised in amusement, her body shaking with laughter, now and then thumping the table.

Aoife was so absorbed that she missed Eoin coming in. It wasn’t until he passed behind her that she jumped, tried to hit the power button but missed in her panic, then sprang up and tried to shield the screen with her body. In her haste she knocked over the bubble tea beside her.

Eoin knew Aoife liked to read strange things and had no intention of prying into her privacy. He righted the toppled cup, passed her a few tissues, and was about to remind her to be careful when his gaze happened to sweep across the screen and suddenly froze.

Aoife was reading a novel, and not a decent one at that. At a glance he saw a term he recognised: "safe word."

He lowered his eyes.

Aoife, feeling guilty, twisted to block the screen more tightly and gave Eoin an awkward laugh. "Eoin, h hi, ha ha, you’re in early today, Eoin."

Eoin hummed in reply and bent to wipe the table. He swept the spilled tea into the bin and sat down at his workstation.

Aoife quickly sat down, closed the novel, and opened her work page, but she couldn’t concentrate, stealing glances at her senior’s expression from the corner of her eye.

Eoin had been working normally, but he noticed her furtive looks. She had glanced over more than a dozen times in a few minutes. He suddenly asked, "What does ’safe word’ mean?"

Aoife: "!!!"

She nearly jumped out of her seat and stared in shock at his profile. Seeing him calmly typing at the computer, his expression cool and composed, as if he had asked casually without knowing what it meant, she laughed awkwardly and fumbled for an explanation. "Er, how do I put it? It’s, it’s a little game between couples. You could think of it as, um, a nickname with a special meaning."

Her voice grew quieter and quieter until she was almost burying her head in her chest. She didn’t notice that her frosty senior had suddenly paused, his jade white fingertips resting on the keyboard, unmoving for a long time.

After a moment Eoin went on writing his report, his expression as cold as ever and the rhythm of his typing unchanged. He asked, "What’s the special meaning behind it?"

Aoife said nothing.

She eyed him suspiciously, saw that his expression was still normal, as though he were just making conversation, and only then relaxed a little and carried on making things up. "Well, it’s a pet name for couples, maybe with a special meaning. Like in the book I’m reading, the safe word is ’coffee,’ because one of the couple is a barista, and their personality is bitter but with a hint of fragrance. When the other partner hears the word, they can’t help feeling affectionate."

Eoin seemed somewhat interested. "Can any word be a safe word?"

Aoife said, "Yes, as long as both agree on a word that holds special meaning, it can be a safe word."

Eoin glanced at her desk and asked casually, "What about bubble tea? What could that signify?"

Aoife closed her eyes and came up with an answer. "Er, maybe one person is sweet and soft, very cute?"

Eoin looked at the desk. "What about a spider plant?"

Aoife said, "Full of life, lush and green, just looking at it makes you feel relaxed."

Eoin glanced out of the window. "What about a Scots pine?"

Aoife grew more and more confident, thinking her senior just didn’t feel like working and wanted someone to chat to. She spoke with increasing assurance. "Tall and sturdy, unafraid of storms, quietly enduring and dependable."

Eoin paused slightly.

His gaze fell on the decorative ceramic vase on Aoife’s desk.

Two words lingered on his tongue, soft and gentle, like a lover’s murmur. His gaze stayed fixed on the computer screen, his expression calm and focused, but his index finger twitched the mouse unconsciously and his lips parted slightly, trembling.

"What about porcelain?"

Aoife noticed nothing unusual. She was already in her element and spoke in an academic, rigorous manner. "I think it means precious and valuable, yet also very fragile, needing careful protection."

When she’d finished she waited for her senior to ask more, but no one spoke. She looked up, and Eoin was staring at the computer screen, his dark eyes lowered, deep in thought.

The screen showed the title page of a thesis, the bold black font dull and uninteresting, but her senior seemed mesmerised by that line of text and wasn’t moving the mouse at all.

Aoife asked cautiously, "Eoin? Are you lost in thought?"

"No." Eoin lowered his gaze and smiled slightly. "Just pondering the thesis."

Every word on the screen was familiar, yet none of it registered. His thoughts were a tangled mess.

There was a glass of water on the desk. He gazed at his reflection in it, turning those words over again and again, then curled the corner of his mouth unnaturally into a self mocking smile.

He silently watched the reflection and thought: Such a dull, unremarkable person, so hollowed out that even two measures of whiskey could send him to hospital. Is he worth the young master’s careful protection?

The young man in the water was pale and thin, his face good looking, but only that. Eoin could pick out many flaws. His brows and eyes were often weary, not vibrant enough, as if years of hardship had drained his body. With his faded, worn clothes and little effort at dressing up, if Cian were choosing by looks alone, he could find dozens or even hundreds more glamorous.

Not to mention, Eoin knew how he had grown up, completely unlike the precious young Fitzgerald. When Cian was surrounded by hundreds of garments a year, Eoin had been washing clothes in a freezing stream in winter, his knuckles covered in chilblains. When Cian was picky about truffles and caviar, Eoin was calculating how many bowls of soup he could buy with the thirty euro on his canteen card. To a young master like Cian who knew nothing of the world, he was just a pretty toy. But precious and valuable?

Who would cherish a readily available doll? Who would think a plaything whose lifetime food costs didn’t even match the price of a young master’s meal was valuable?

Fragile? Needing protection?

Eoin found it laughable.

From the moment he signed the agreement with Cian, he had known what the young master wanted to play at: nothing more than a man who had seen too many soft boys and picked a tough one to torment, changing his tastes now and then.

But.

But so far, Cian hadn’t laid a finger on him.

Although Eoin saw himself as a plaything, Cian didn’t treat him like one at all.

When Rory held his party and Eoin refused to attend, Cian hadn’t said a word, even though it was a snub to the young master. At the dinner on the boat, when Eoin used the safe word halfway through, Cian had immediately taken him away without asking anything further. And all the little things of the past few days, whether it was the blanket handed to him in the car after the rain or the milk that night.

Eoin was momentarily lost in thought. Every little thing, every detail: Cian had treated him without a trace of humiliation or contempt, at most with some light teasing.

But compared to that once in a lifetime opportunity, what did a bit of teasing matter?

The young master was infamous for his cruelty, having tormented countless people, and was notoriously ill tempered. They had even signed that agreement, with an insult in every line. When Cian had him taken to the hospital for a check up, he had made it clear that he just needed someone to take his anger out on, but.

But why, after all that, had he never laid a hand on him?

Eoin couldn’t work it out.

Just then the door chimed and Niall came in from outside, carrying breakfast and greeting them one by one. "Eoin, Aoife."

Eoin gathered his thoughts and nodded slightly.

Niall handed Aoife the breakfast he’d bought her, then gave Eoin a notice from Student Services. "Oh, Eoin, there’s a volunteer activity this afternoon. Don’t forget."

Eoin pulled himself together and nodded. "Got it."