The Master Finale | manxman | (Book Four: The Master Collection)

XI - Remember This Face

Broderick Thorne.

So that was the true identity of the man laid beside Jasper.

In the beginning, he had thought Timothy to be a mysterious man, but to think of him hiding the fact of his birth had been something the Master did not anticipate. Broderick Thorne was a wealthy nobleman with birth rights to such a name, yet all the while he would much rather take on the hardships of being an ordinary man.

Jasper could recall moments when he was young where his father would speak so highly about how mature and poised young Broderick had been, and here he was, apparently quite the same.

Watching Timothy as he slept in the once empty space beside him, Jasper was able to see as his eyes flickered dreamily behind his eyelids. He was such a handsome man even while asleep. His lashes were long and touched the tops of his cheeks, lips so kissable and pink that the Master thought to steal one this quiet morning.

Without a strong enough will to hold himself back from doing so, Jasper brought himself from under the covers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Timothy's neck after kissing his lips. This man might very well be a killer, but Jasper would never play off his inner demons as being anything less cruel than Timothy's. Jasper had never physically taken the lives of anyone before, but there were many he once wished it for. And the one he'd wished it for the most was killed by Timothy. So, Jasper knew he was almost as corrupt as this man his heart quickly took a liking to, and he would let these exquisite feelings hopefully soothe his soul.

"Good morning to you as well," Timothy's voice arose in a low, morning gruff.

Unable to help himself, Jasper then turned over onto the man, hiding his face against Timothy's neck as he hummed in delight. "Forgive me for the disturbance," he smiled, "I only enjoy this feeling of waking up beside you."

The dark-haired man wrapped his arms around Jasper's slight body lain atop him, his hands moving softly up the blond's back to embrace him fully. "I, too, have enjoyed these times I've had the privilege to share with you."

Sitting up as he straddled Timothy's waist, Jasper stretched his thin arms above his head, the rest of his fatigue fading from his body. "I have not done this in so long," he said, "But I pray no one will take this from us. And...I know you cannot promise that is something inept to take us from each other, but I am honestly glad it is a promise you won't make." Jasper brought himself from on top of Timothy and stood from the bed with a limp. "I once believed promises were unbreakable. I do not think that way anymore."

As Timothy remained there in the bed, Jasper went about his morning routine in the other part of the bedroom chamber. He folded his arms behind his head as the Master's words rattled back and forth through his mind. Had Jasper overheard him the night they made love in this very room? Or were they both two men understanding of the idea that promises were things that could be broken even if unintentionally?

Just as Timothy had driven the promises he vowed to keep to Neville back then, Jasper had likely made the same ones, or was told there would never be any heartache during his love affair with Elijah Goode, and now those vows were shattered undertakings they could never wield again.

Even with that note of unfulfilled promises, Timothy was glad to have something like this with the Master. For so long, he'd lived alone, remaining numb to all feelings, so numb to the point where he was sure his ability to feel anything at all had been stolen that bloody night. He could still recall everything from back then, the awful sight brought unto his eyes, the warmth of blood across his hands and face, the fire he'd set ablaze. Merely lying there in silence, Timothy could hear the desperate pleas to spare the lives of the men who'd wronged him, and hear the final words shared between him and his innocent Neville.