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The meeting point is the most boring office in the world, except for the diamonds Kaz is arranging on the desk. He’s never had much of a taste for gemstones himself. He’s not going to do anything with these except sell them. But the thrill of a good break-in is making them look beautiful.
There are eight of them, each around the size of a lemon seed, and the best quality on the market. Laying them out in a straight line is like counting, or basic sums; it brings Kaz’s senses back down from the adrenaline. It hasn’t done much—he’s started on the opals—when Kaz’s Fabrikator bounds through the door.
“If you keep making a racket like that,” Kaz says without looking up, “your cut from this job will be that painting in the corner. Congratulations.”
“It’s not so bad,” replies Jesper. He takes it upon himself to half-sit on the desk, at the other end from where Kaz is standing at it.
The painting is quite bad. The painter had aspirations of replicating the old masters and did not achieve them.
“Less the cost of the frame, obviously. The last one was broken.”
Jesper leans over. “I’m making no racket. Let me see what I got into that case for.”
Kaz nudges the last of the opals into place with one gloved fingertip. They’re coming back into fashion, and Kaz has nothing if not good timing. And his blood still pounding through all his veins, but that’s by the by.
“Those’ll be something else in sunlight,” Jesper says.
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
“I know this is a Wraith job, but you didn’t exactly say which kind. Is it for funds? Or sabotage? Or neither?”
Wraith jobs are the only ones Jesper does any more. Which is fine. He’s not the only Fabrikator in the city. Kaz is basically doing him a favour, getting him out of that stupid mansion every once in a while.
Jesper narrows his eyes at Kaz. Whatever you want to call their colour, grey or silver or just canal water when the sun comes out, it has something of the gemstone about it. “Or is it too secret? I understand that that’s how you two are.”
“You can stop complaining about that any time from three years ago.”
“I will not.”
There’s no harm in telling Jesper about this one. He knows what might happen if he opens his mouth. Kaz says, “The diamonds were bought as a bribe for a judge. No bribe means no sham contracts. No sham contracts means a terrible blow to the mark’s commitments, and some very bad people very unhappy with him.”
“How practical. What about the opals?”
“For his wife’s birthday.” Kaz turns around and leans on the desk like Jesper is, next to where he propped his cane. “I thought he could use a little extra trouble.”
Jesper laughs. He at least does it quietly enough that Kaz doesn’t have to tell him to shut up again. “You lunatic,” he says. “You mad little genius. I could kiss you.”
It’s like Kaz’s mouth opens before he’s properly thought about it. It’s the adrenaline, along with the simple urge to get under Jesper’s skin, which has never gone away. Jesper invites it.
Kaz says, “Do it, then.”
There’s a long pause, just a drawn-out moment of Jesper staring at Kaz and Kaz looking back at him, before Jesper asks, “What?”
“Do it,” Kaz repeats. He’s committed now. He thinks Jesper has the balls for it. He just wants to see for sure. And he can kiss Inej now; why not Jesper?
Jesper is blinking at him like an idiot. “You—Inej?”
“If Inej were here, she’d be watching.” It was her who put the wretched idea in Kaz’s head once. He hasn’t thought about it a single time since, until now.
Jesper doesn’t say anything about Wylan. Kaz takes it to mean they have some kind of agreement, but if they didn’t it wouldn’t be Kaz’s problem. Jesper just says, “All right, then. Fine. I’m calling your stupid bluff.”
I’m not big on bluffing, Kaz thinks. Jesper should know that. Kaz doesn’t have time to think much else before Jesper walks over, grabs his collar, and kisses him like he means it.
Then he just doesn’t stop. His lips are warm and firm and Kaz has to stretch so he can reach properly. Kaz grabs Jesper’s other forearm, so he can’t try anything, and brings up his free hand to the back of his neck. And they kiss.
Kaz can feel his heart beating in his throat. In his mouth. Jesper eases back for a split second, presses in again, as Kaz turns his face so they fit better. The muscles of Jesper’s forearm flex under Kaz’s hand.
There’s no panic. Just the sick thrill of being touched, and satisfaction that he was right. He could do anything he wanted to. He’ll probably never do this again. There’s no point if he doesn’t do it properly.
When Kaz opens his mouth to breathe, he only pulls back just enough. He wants to make Jesper sweat. He looks up and meets Jesper’s eyes and says, very quietly: “You lose. As usual.”
The dark look that rolls across Jesper’s face like a storm is worth it, and gone too quickly. “Fuck you,” Jesper says. “At least now I know how to shut you up for half a second.”
“Like I said—”
Jesper kisses him again without a second’s hesitation, or possibly thought. He does it harder this time, now that he’s seen Kaz can take it. Kaz gives it back to him just as hard. He hooks his arm around Jesper’s neck to pull him down with the crook of his elbow, and Jesper makes a low noise that Kaz doesn’t know how to interpret. Kaz thinks, suddenly, wildly: what would Jesper do if he moved closer? If it was his body on Jesper’s and not just his mouth? If he starts imagining now, he might never stop. Without even thinking he’s slid his hand along Jesper’s forearm and across his waist, and it’s resting on Jesper’s back over his coat. Kaz can’t bring himself to move.
Kaz almost changes his mind about that when Jesper bites at his bottom lip. The sharp inhale is pure reflex.
“You’re going to kill me,” Jesper mutters. He puts his lips back on Kaz’s for another second, then two. Kaz lets him. He told Jesper to do this, after all.
Kaz breathes out. He breathes in again. Slowly, firmly, he presses the tip of his tongue against his lip where Jesper bit it, and then to Jesper’s own lip. Just for a second. He says, “So stop, then.” His voice sounds very low, even to himself.
Jesper doesn’t. “You’re insane.”
Everyone says that. Kaz doesn’t need to give them any more reason. But he keeps kissing Jesper anyway. It’s not much of a surprise when Jesper sucks on his lip and tongue, or when his mouth opens for it. Everything in Kaz goes shaky and hot at the slick press of Jesper’s tongue. It’s disgusting. It’s this close to unbearable. If he pulled himself together Kaz could do it again.
He waits until the last second, until he really can’t breathe, before he pulls away. He keeps his face tilted up and looks into Jesper’s ridiculous, dilated eyes, tracing his fingertip across Jesper’s neck just to be perverse. “Is now a good time to tell you,” he murmurs, “that I’m actually Kuwei and you just think I’m Kaz?”
Jesper scowls exuberantly and uses the elbow of the arm Kaz was holding to jab him in the ribs. Kaz just laughs as he lets go and dodges backwards.
“I can’t stand you,” Jesper says, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He looks exactly like he just got properly kissed a couple of times, which is also how he looks after he gets properly shot at a couple of times.
Kaz turns to open the desk drawer and pulls out a scale and a set of test weights. He breathes in slowly; he’s not going to do this very well if his hands are still shaking. “Don’t come on jobs with me, then,” he says.
The extra chair screeches on the floorboards when Jesper pulls it out. “See if I don’t. I’m not taking that terrible painting, by the way.”
“Suit yourself.”
Jesper flings himself down into the chair and crosses his arms. “When we’re done here,” he says, “we’re going for a drink. And you’re paying.”
“Of course,” Kaz says, holding up Jesper’s wallet.
“Hmm,” Jesper says. “Fuck you.”
Kaz puts the first of the diamonds on the scale. “Not today,” he says, just to watch Jesper’s face.