by Ruby Moone
“Here.” Robert held out a pair of brown leather gloves.
Milo was so startled he took them. “Just what I need on a beautiful summer’s day.”
“If you wear them you can wheel the chair better without taking the skin off your palms.”
“And where do you imagine I am going to go?”
Robert grinned. “Anywhere you like.” He bent down in front of Milo until their faces were in line. “Arms around my neck and shuffle forward.”
Milo opened his mouth to protest and was soundly kissed.
He emerged shaken and aroused. “Why did you do that? You can’t do that.”
“As I said, my dear Milo, you are terribly kissable.”
Milo’s head was pounding. “Kissable?”
Robert tilted his head on one side and ran a thumb over Milo’s bottom lip. “So kissable,” he whispered and kissed him again. Milo kept his eyes open and watched as Robert’s beautiful eyes drifted closed and his brows drew together as if in a frown, as if he were in pain but when he groaned softly Milo realised it was intense pleasure. Robert was aroused. Milo brought both hands up, cupped Robert’s face between them and kissed back for all he was worth. When they pulled apart Milo realised that Robert was shaking and a small smile curved his mouth.
“Don’t look so smug,” Robert said and dropped a quick closed-mouth kiss on his lips. “You are shaking just as much.” Milo realised he was and smiled more. They smiled into each other’s eyes for a little while longer and then Robert shook his head. “Come on.” He tugged and Milo lifted his arms so that Robert could pull him out of the chair.
* * * *
The dining room was pleasant. Not overly large, and the table had been positioned by huge French windows which were open to allow what little breeze there was into the room. It was delightful.
When Brownlow appeared with the food Milo smiled at him. “Grange will be eating with me.” He expected a look of censure, but to his surprise Brownlow nodded and looked quietly pleased.
Milo laid a napkin over his thighs. Robert sat opposite and did the same. When the soup arrived Milo picked up his spoon and took a taste. “So, how did you come to work here?” He watched as Robert took a small taste of the soup, nod, and tuck in.
“My family lives in Clifton, not far from here. My mother wanted me to train to do something useful, but I was never one for book learning. I like to be outside. I saw the post advertised and…here I am.” He held out both arms and smiled. “If you like, I will take you to see them.”
Milo froze. “I cannot imagine why they would want to see me.”
“They’d be honoured. My brothers and sisters would be morbidly fascinated by your chair and the fact that you can’t walk, and no doubt bombard you with questions.” He took another spoon of the soup. “In fact, I suspect they would climb all over you.” Robert smiled. “They would love you.”
“They would love having a freak to visit,” Milo mumbled.
Robert tutted. Milo raised his eyebrows. “Come now. Don’t say things just to get me to disagree. It’s too nice a day to argue.”
Milo had no doubt his mouth hung open. “I beg your pardon?”
Robert gave an exaggerated sigh and put his spoon down. “You say, ‘I’m a freak,’ and I say, ‘Oh Milo, of course you’re not.’” Robert affected a girlish voice.
Milo was lost for words. Had he been looking for Robert to deny it?
“Well, you are a bit freakish,” Robert said and cleaned up the last of his soup from the plate, “but you are adorably, beautifully…heavenly freakish.” He put the spoon in the bowl with a clatter. “So freakish I could eat you up, and if we go for a walk this afternoon I will.”
“Will what?” Milo was barely breathing.
“Eat you.”
Milo was about to speak when the door opened and Brownlow appeared to remove the soup plates and leave them plates of chicken sandwiches and slices of pork pie with a dish of preserves. “I am afraid Cook is a little under the weather. I trust this will suffice?” he said.
“Of course. How is she?” Milo frowned. Cook and Brownlow had been the only people to care for him these past years. Although they never discussed it, he was inordinately fond of them both.
“Just a little tired, sir. This weather has been quite wearing and she needed a rest. She’s not getting any younger. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t. Anything she needs. Does she need a physician? Call Webster if she does.” He was feeling panicked. If anything happened to Cook…
“I will see to it, sir,” he said on a bow and left.
“She’s getting old,” Milo said to Robert, worry gnawing at him. “I don’t know what family she has, I…”
“What?”
“Well, if she needs to rest she can take all the time she needs, and if she needs to retire I will make sure she has the best comforts.” He rubbed his head.
“I will look in on her if you like,” Robert said. He appeared to be looking at him oddly.
Milo nodded. “I would appreciate it if you would do that and let me know how she fares.”
Robert was looking at him oddly again.
“What?” he said.
“Nothing. How about your family? Where do they live?”
“I have no family.” Milo toyed with a sandwich. “My father died when I was a boy, my mother remarried and went to live abroad when I was ten. She appointed me a guardian who dumped me here when I was one and twenty.” He put the sandwich in his mouth and chewed. “Now I live alone and that’s how I like it.”
They ate in silence for a while until Milo was full. He laid his napkin on his plate, and Robert did the same.
“Let’s go outside. It’s too beautiful to be indoors,” Robert said.
Milo swallowed and nodded.
Robert nodded and got up. “Back in a moment.”
Milo stared as he left the room and came back with the dreaded chair. He placed it beside Milo and applied the brake. “There you go. Hop in.”
“Hop?” Milo raised his eyebrows.
“Can’t you get in on your own?”
“You know damn well I can’t. Now lift me up.”
“Bet you could if you tried. I’ll pick you up if you fall on your arse.” He grinned, and walked out of the room, leaving Milo speechless with frustration. He stared at the chair, at his legs, back at the chair and growled. Actually growled. Miserable bastard enjoyed taunting him. He edged forward and took hold of the handles on the chair. That wouldn’t work. He fidgeted, shifted, and then with a massive lunge dragged himself over and found himself half in half out. Panting and sweating he heaved and grabbed hold of the arm to haul himself in, giving himself a nasty jab in the side as he did so. When he was seated he was shaking, but had the most ridiculous sense of satisfaction.
* * * *
As the days wore on Milo found himself pushed into doing more and more. Robert was attentive, but refused to mollycoddle him and made him do as much as he could. At first he hated him for it, but gradually realised that he felt more alive than he ever had. The sun continued to shine, allowing them to go into the grounds and seek out warm, secluded spots and indulge in the most hedonistic of pleasures, but not only that, they talked. They talked endlessly about anything and everything. Robert was incredibly knowledgeable and wildly funny to boot, and they walked, well, Robert walked and he wheeled himself alongside. He found places in his home that he never knew were there, and eventually the feeling that he was somehow broken inside began to fade a little. He couldn’t, however, quite quell the notion that Robert wouldn’t be better off with someone who wasn’t so damaged. Someone he could ride with, run with, go out and about with, and he couldn’t stop his acid reactions whenever Robert paid him a compliment either, which never failed to dim the light in those beautiful eyes.
The heat became steadily more intense until eventually Cook was dispatched to stay with her sister and her husband by the coast for a longer rest. Brownlow had sugge
sted that an acquaintance of his might be willing to step in and take care of the cooking and housekeeping. Milo had agreed readily—they all needed to eat—but had been shocked out of his shoes when the new cook arrived and he was an elderly gentleman. Milo recovered quickly and shook hands with him. The man was slight and immaculately dressed and Brownlow was curiously attentive. When dinner that night was astoundingly good, Milo was impressed enough to pass on thanks. Robert, who ate with him, was equally impressed. Brownlow flushed.
“Well, that’s a turn up for the books,” Robert said as he got up from the table and moved to bring Milo’s chair over. Milo heaved himself in, relieved to find that his technique was improving, and he managed not to flail like a fish in front of Robert.
“Indeed,” he said as he wheeled after Robert. Robert had removed all the carpets from the main rooms on the ground floor, had the floors waxed, and it had transformed Milo’s life. He could wheel himself easily from room to room. He had found places in his house he never knew existed. Robert was working on some project on the ground floor and he had been banned from seeing it. They sat outside until the sun began to fade, not really saying much. Milo read, Robert sketched. He was an extremely good artist, and Milo made a mental note to arrange for one of the rooms to be turned into a studio for him.
“You’re tired,” Robert said after a while. “I think this heat is wearing us all out. You should go to bed.”
Milo had to agree. Once he was settled he tried to find the courage to ask Robert to stay with him. More than anything he wanted to spend the night with the man in his bed. He wanted to go to sleep beside him and wake up with him. Outside they indulged in endless, wonderfully gratifying activities, but Robert never asked to sleep with him and Milo found he dare not raise the subject. Robert blew out the candles, turned at the door to blow him a kiss, and then closed the door.
“Wait,” Milo called, but it was too late. He was gone. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.
Chapter 5
The heat was unbearable. Milo pushed the blankets to his waist and ran his arm over his perspiring forehead. The room was dark, the drapes drawn, and he felt as though he were suffocating. He jumped when the door creaked and opened. He clamped his eyes shut and waited. Footsteps. Soft, measured footsteps. He cracked open one eye and saw Robert creep into the room wearing nothing but a nightshirt. His heart pounded so loud he was sure it would give him away. Robert went to the window, pushed back the drapes, and opened both windows to allow a rush of cool night air into the room. Milo’s heart contracted at the kindness. Robert then walked over to the bed and pulled down the blankets, very gently, to the bottom of the bed leaving him covered with just a light sheet. Milo’s breathing stopped when Robert paused, touched two fingers to his lips, kissed them, and then touched them to the top of Milo’s head. He let Robert get to the door before the words tumbled out.
“Stay.”
Robert stopped and turned. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. Stay with me.”
“Do you want to sleep?”
“No.”
Robert leaned his head against the door for a moment. “Do you want to do more than we have?”
Milo’s eyes closed and his entire body was aflame. “Yes.”
“Wait there.”
Milo’s heart thumped painfully. Robert returned with something in his hand that looked like a bottle. He stood by the side of the bed, a shadow in the darkness, and placed the bottle down carefully. Deliberately. Milo watched, mouth dry as Robert reached behind him and pulled his nightshirt over his head leaving him naked. His cock was long and erect. Milo longed to touch it but didn’t dare move in case he broke the spell. Robert climbed onto the bed, pushing the sheet and coverlet away as he did so. Milo’s own nightshirt had ridden up leaving his legs exposed and Milo cringed, wanting them covered but when he put out a hand, Robert took it in his and kissed the back of his fingers.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful. All of you.” He ran his hands up Milo’s thighs beneath the nightshirt and wriggled him out of it until he lay naked and waiting, and from the way Robert looked down at him, eating him up with his eyes, Milo felt beautiful for the first time in his life. The heat wrapped around them, lifted occasionally by the breeze from the open window, and it felt like they were cradled and cocooned by the summer warmth.
“I want you so much,” Robert murmured as he pushed gently at Milo’s legs so he could settle between them. He ran his hands from Milo’s knees to his groin and took hold of his aching cock. “You’re very quiet,” he said.
Milo writhed beneath his touch. Usually he protested loudly at Robert’s temerity, it was part of the game, and the ridiculous word they agreed on should the game need to stop made Milo laugh regularly. They rarely used it, but it was on the tip of his tongue to use it now. He wanted Robert so badly but knew that it was more than lust. More than just bodily functions and pleasure, he wanted Robert the man. Robert, the man he loved. Just saying the words to himself made his heart squeeze tight in his chest and panic feather at the edges of his mind. How could he be in love? How could he be so stupid as to fall in love with a man that could walk away at any moment and find any number of men who were whole, manly, and desirable.
“Hey,” Robert breathed gently, “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? “What makes you think I don’t want it?” Milo found himself snapping, the panic taking hold. What if he changed his mind? What if he never had this. What if he left afterwards and he never had it again?
“Well, this for a start,” Robert said and stroked Milo’s now flaccid cock.
“Fuck off,” Milo was horrified to hear his voice crack. He wriggled to get free but Robert simply took his hands and pinned them above his head, making him feel terrifyingly vulnerable and open. He moaned as the night air caressed his chest. “Let go of me.” He pulled but to no avail. “Let go.”
Robert held his hands tightly with one hand and with the other took hold of his cock which was now fully, painfully erect again. “Remember you only have to say the word,” he murmured and then pumped him hard.
Milo felt as though he was blushing across his entire body. “Fuck off and leave me alone,” he moaned, head thrashing.
Robert let go of his hands and brought his face close. “I’m going to taste you now, and I don’t mean here.” He squeezed his cock and Milo froze. What on earth was he talking about? He held his breath as Robert kissed his way down his stomach, paused to give a lick to his aching crown, nibbled against his shaft, and then opened his legs wide.
“No!” Milo was panting, trying to sit up. “No…”
Robert’s tongue slid behind his balls and then he felt his arse lifted in the air, Robert’s thumbs hold him apart and that wicked, beautiful tongue pushed against his most personal, tender, sensitive place and Milo wailed like a madman. It was too much, not enough, too much…
“Robert…” He was trying to get hold of the man’s head but couldn’t even work his limbs.
“Do you want me to fuck you or do you want to do me?”
“You do it. Now. Please.”
Robert reached for the bottle, coated his fingers, and brought them back to his hole. Milo felt his breath stutter and Robert kissed him as he slid one finger inside. He pumped gently in and out, kissing him all the while. Milo had never felt anything like it in his life. Robert added another finger and that stung, but he concentrated on the kissing until those intruding fingers brushed against something inside him that made his entire body jerk in jagged flashes of pleasure. Milo dragged his mouth from Robert’s.
“What the…fucking…dear God…what is that…?” He writhed, pushing himself against the fingers.
Robert laughed. “Is that it, have I got it?”
“You’ve got something…Jesus…Christ…” Milo moaned. He wanted to cry when Robert took those fingers away, but then he watched as he poured oil with shaking h
ands and coated his cock.
He took Milo’s legs and pushed them up. “Hold here,” he murmured, taking Milo’s hand and placing it on his thigh. Milo took both legs and held them up while Robert reached behind and grabbed a plump pillow. He pushed it under Milo’s backside and then settled between his thighs.
“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he said, but his voice was shaking as much as his hands. His dark curls fell damply over his forehead and his beautiful face was tense. He lined himself up and then pushed slowly.
Milo held his breath, tried to relax and prayed it wouldn’t hurt, but it did. He stood it as long as he could and then cried out. “Stop, stop…” but Robert kept on going. “Cheese, fucking cheese,” he yelled and then when Robert stopped Milo burst out laughing uncontrollably. Robert reared up to stare at him.
“We need a different word,” Milo said, and laughed again. “I can’t keep shouting cheese when you put things in my arse.”
The shock on Robert’s face faded and he smiled. “Is it too much?”
“Yes. No. Try more oil.”
Robert poured more of the viscous liquid on both of them and then inched his way forward. Something inside Milo had relaxed with the laughter and then with one last push Robert was seated in him to the hilt. They paused, each breathing heavily, and then Robert pulled back and thrust, making Milo groan. He did it again and Milo let go of his legs to clutch at Robert’s backside that clenched under his fingers.
“Hurt?” Robert muttered.
“No. Harder.”
At that Robert let go and began thrusting into him, hard, brushing against that sensitive spot inside him each time making Milo moan and writhe and clutch. It was as though every inch of skin had been flayed from him leaving him open, sensitive, new, and frighteningly vulnerable. Robert’s movements grew ragged, and his breathing changed and Milo knew his crisis was near. He slid his hand between them and took hold of his cock and started pumping in time with Robert’s thrusts and then he was flying, coming harder than ever in his life. He felt Robert go rigid and cry out into the night, his cries mingled with Milo’s as darkness wound around them.
