by Ruby Moone
“So,” Charles said, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “How did you end up at my door, Harry?”
Harry finished chewing, and put his own bowl down. It bought him a little time. “I’m afraid I got myself hopelessly lost.” Not a complete lie. His grandfather had always told him that if you must lie, stick as closely to the truth as you can.
“Easily done around here,” Charles said with a smile, but his eyes were watchful.
“My horse threw me and ran so I tried to make it on foot. I was headed for the village of Hackness.” Again, not a complete lie.
“If the snow lifts in the morning I can guide you to the village. It is not far.” He passed Harry more of the of rich fruit cake.
“If it would not be too much trouble…?”
“Not at all.”
Harry ate the cake, pondering a little. “Do you have my coat? I’d like to check that everything is still there.”
Charlie arched an eyebrow and Harry felt himself flush with the sheer stupidity of the statement. He held up his hand as he chewed to swallow the mouthful of cake quickly.
“That sounded dreadful. I am so sorry, I never meant to infer that you…” He coughed a little and held his hand up to his mouth. “I collapsed on the road here and I am sure I felt someone…” He gestured vaguely.
Charlie smiled a little. “I see. I will fetch the coat.”
“You don’t have to do it immediately, please finish your food.” Harry’s heart was thumping. He needed to get his thoughts together. He was usually much better than this with people.
“It’s no problem.” Charlie said and left the room but the soft smile made Harry’s heart thump even harder.
“Christ.” He closed his eyes and used the moment to get try and get a lie straight in his head. How much could he share? Should he share anything at all? Would Charlie be quite so attentive if he knew the truth? He doubted it.
Charlie came back into the room and laid the coat gently across Harry’s lap. Harry smiled his thanks and began rifling through the pockets which of course were empty. He let the searching become increasingly frantic and then he laid it down and put his head in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” he heard Charlie ask.
“It’s all gone,” he whispered. “My money, papers, everything.” He screwed up his eyes and to his surprise the tears that sprung there were genuine. He was sick and tired of running, sick and tired of looking over his shoulder. Sick and tired of having less than nothing, being less than nothing. He covered his eyes with his hand.
He felt Charlie kneel by his chair and take the coat gently from his hands. Harry lifted his head and stared at the man by his side. His eyes were really quite beautiful. Blue, clear and honest. And, at the moment, looking at him with such tenderness Harry wanted to weep again.
“Don’t distress yourself. Whatever you need I can help you with.”
“That’s too much to ask.” Harry whispered, hating himself.
Charlie reached out and brushed a finger over the corner of Harry’s eye collecting a tear with a frown. “Please don’t.” He took Harry’s hand in his. “Let me help you.”
Harry wanted to die. Wanted to roll over and die. Either that or throw himself into Charlie’s arms and tell him the whole sickening, sordid truth. Instead he nodded. He couldn’t speak, so he just nodded and watched relief spread over Charlie’s face materialising in a lovely, lopsided smile.
Chapter 5
Charles held Harry’s slender hand in his and watched as he agonised. There was definitely something that he wasn’t telling him, Charles was certain of that, but then Harry capitulated and agreed to accept his help. The relief that flooded him was enormous and the extent of it surprised him. There was something about Harry that called to him so strongly it frightened him.
“Would you like some brandy?” he said, extricating his hand from Harry’s. He needed to break the contact.
“Thank you.”
Charles poured two glasses and returned to his chair, handing one to Harry as he went.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” Charles settled himself in his chair and took a sip of the brandy before settling the glass neatly on the coaster and adjusting it so it was nicely central.
Harry smiled weakly. “I’m two and twenty. How about you?”
“Ah, a mere youngster. Two and thirty.”
Harry took a long drink of the brandy and closed his eyes as it slid down his throat. “Positively ancient,” he said as he opened them again and they both laughed, restoring a lighter atmosphere.
“Do you live locally?” Charles asked. He was certain that the boy did not, he would have remembered him.
“No, I was travelling through to the coast.”
“To Scarborough?”
Harry nodded and took another drink.
“Once the snow has lifted it should be quite easy to get you to Scarborough, it’s only a couple of hours’ drive. Have you relatives there?”
Harry hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Yes. I’m hoping for work.”
“Then we shall have you restored to your family in no time.” Charles raised his glass in salute. Scarborough. Not so far that he couldn’t visit on occasion. He swallowed. What on earth was he playing at? Planning visits to a man he barely knew, who although he shared a similar nature wasn’t necessarily attracted to him. Why would he be? Harry was young, stunningly handsome, and he was…well. He swirled his brandy in his glass. Women seemed to find him attractive but he wasn’t terribly sure about men. Attempts at forming any sort of attachment had been awkward, and in all honesty, he had concluded that he was not very good with people and certainly not good at involving them in his life in any way. He certainly would not encourage anyone to rely on him. But if the boy did find him attractive…”
“Penny for them?” Harry said, jerking him from his reverie and making colour rush to his cheeks. Harry smiled, then grinned knowingly, making Charles blush even more. Dear God, who was the boy here?
Charles cleared his throat, suppressing his own smile. “Did you say you were heading for Hackness?”
Harry’s eyes sparkled in the firelight and a smile lingered on his lips. “Yes. I was hoping to hire a horse.”
“Didn’t you say your horse threw you?”
“It did. It was hired. I don’t know what happened to it. I was trying to find somewhere to stay for the night but couldn’t.”
Charles looked at him and laughed a little. “No room at the inn?”
Harry stared for a moment and then broke into infectious laugher. “Indeed. My very own nativity. I presume that Hackness has an inn?”
Charles nodded, the smile lingering about his lips. “The Cock and Bottle,” he said, reasonably straight faced.
Harry’s eyes widened and a delighted smile lit his face. “Really?” He laughed. “I’d love to see the sign outside,”
“Cockerel. There is a picture of a cockerel on the front,” Charles said with mock censure.
Harry let out a snort of laughter. “Not a…”
“No!”
They stared at each other and then dissolved into a bout of juvenile laughter. The more they laughed, the funnier it became. Charles scrubbed at his eyes and wondered when he had last laughed so much. He had a good ten years on Harry but he was shocked at just how much he liked sitting by the fire, making boyish jokes and listening to his laughter. Harry was still sniggering when Charles moved to refill their glasses and stoke up the fire. When Charles passed Harry his glass Harry’s fingers managed to drift across his, and Charles felt the touch all the way to his bones. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been touched, let alone held, and now his entire body ached. He wanted so much for Harry to stand up, take him in his arms, and hold him tightly, it was a physical pain. He rubbed his chest as he sat down.
“So, do you do anything, Charlie?”
Charlie. He let his eyes close for a moment. No-one called him Charlie except his sister. He pulled in
a breath and smiled. “I collect snuff boxes and I write books.”
Harry’s face lit up. “What sort of books?”
“Adventures. I write stories about travelling the world and finding adventure. Do you read?”
“I do. My mother taught me. You must lend me one of your books. I’ll tell you if it’s any good.”
Charles laughed. “Too kind.”
The laughter subsided between them and drifted into a comfortable silence. Charles stared into the fire and sipped his brandy. After a while he looked over at Harry to find his head lolled to one side and his brandy glass tilted precariously. He was fast asleep. Charles moved soundlessly over to his chair and pulled the glass from his fingers. He never moved.
“Harry?” Charles said in a low voice, but he was sound asleep. “Oh, Harry,” he said, touching a finger to his hair that had now dried into a mass of endearingly untidy dark curls.
* * * *
Charles left him sleeping and went to bank the fire in the kitchen so it would burn through the night. He then went to his chamber and did the same and made a decision. He was going to invite Harry to share his bed. He closed his eyes at the thought. He had never spent the night with a man in his bed. Ever. He was going to do it. Fate had conspired to throw them together during the only short period of time in the year where he was completely alone, and if life had taught him anything it was to accept what was thrown at him. Good and bad. He took two hot bricks from the fire with the tongs and placed them in bed warmers. He slid one into each side of the bed and took a deep breath.
Chapter 6
Harry woke with a start and for a moment wondered where he was. Shaking his head, he looked around but Charlie was nowhere to be seen. A large ginger cat sat on the rug by the fire, watching him with unblinking eyes. He got up and padded in his bare feet to the window. The snow was falling steadily in huge white flakes with the wind piling it up everywhere. There was nothing he could do tonight. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to force back the panic that threatened to seize him. He could only pray for a thaw overnight. If Charlie was true to his word he could be on his way first thing and in Scarborough before luncheon. He’d have been there now if it were not for the miserable bastard who threw him off the stage when he realised he hadn’t purchased a ticket. He’d thought he’d done a good job of shamming him, but clearly there had been something that aroused suspicion. At least he had got most of the way, and at least Julian should have made it to Scarborough by now. He just hoped to Christ that he was safe somewhere and had left word where to find him.
The door opened and Charlie came back. He was now dressed in a robe like the one that Harry wore, but Harry could see that he wore little beneath it. His breath caught at the sight of his naked throat and bare feet thrust into slippers. Oh God. Oh God oh God. Harry ached at the sight of him, and his cock was so hard it hurt. Beautiful Charlie. So good, so honest so…vulnerable. He had taken advantage of his good nature, lied to him…
“It’s time we retired,” Charlie said, not quite looking at him. Harry didn’t speak.
“You can have my bed,” he said, and then took a deep breath. “We could share it if you wish.” He hesitated, still not looking at him. “But please don’t feel obliged. You may not necessarily find me attractive…”
Harry almost broke in half. If he found him attractive? He was the most attractive man he had ever seen. Did Charlie not know this? He looked at him, looked at the muscle ticking along his jaw, his averted eyes, and he got his answer. Groaning, Harry marched over to him and pulled him into his arms. Charlie’s arms came around him and held tight as he pushed his face into Harry’s throat.
“Christ, Charlie, you are the most attractive man I’ve ever met.”
“But?”
The words were muffled and Harry’s heart heaved. “But there is so much you don’t know about me. I am not a good person. I am…Charlie,” Harry closed his eyes. “Charlie, I want nothing more than to spend the night in your bed but I must leave. I must leave in the morning.” The words tumbled out of his mouth.
Charlie just held him tighter. “So you want me?”
Harry pressed his mouth to Charlie’s neck for a moment. The man was ten years older than him but he felt like the older one. He pushed him away leaving him standing bewildered, arms slightly outstretched as though reaching for him. Harry stuck his chin in the air and tugged at the belt on his robe and let it fall open, revealing his painfully erect, leaking cock. He took hold of Charlie’s unresisting hand and placed it on himself.
“Does that answer your question?”
Charlie’s long slim fingers curled around him and Harry couldn’t breathe properly. All the air had gone from the room. He took hold of the tie binding Charlie’s robe and pulled. As he did so, Charlie let go of his cock and stood stock still, breath shallow. His hands were by his side, and his head down in an unconscious pose of trust and submission. Harry’s mouth went dry. He took Charlie’s face in both hands and kissed him hard, then, pulling back, slid the robe from Charlie’s shoulders. It fell to the ground, leaving him naked. His body was pale, muscled, and peppered with an assortment of odd scars. Harry touched his finger to a particularly large one on his shoulder.
“How did you get these?”
Charlie swallowed. “Army.”
Harry nodded and carried on cataloguing them with his fingers as he moved lower. His chest was hairless, but there was soft golden hair below his navel leading to his cock. Harry swallowed and sank gracefully to his knees. In one move he took him in his mouth.
Charlie shouted and gripped his shoulders probably to keep upright, and then the shout turned into a loud, agonised moan as he thrust gently into Harry’s mouth. Harry was filled with him, overwhelmed by him. He breathed in the unique musky scent of him and squeezed his balls as he sucked him hard. He wanted to be gentle, to tease, and to arouse, but he couldn’t. Part of him was angry with Charlie for making him feel, for making him regret the fact that he couldn’t ever stay, but mostly was just so damned aroused he couldn’t bear it. Seeing this handsome, aristocratic man so desperate for him, but asking not taking, begging not demanding, filled something inside him he hadn’t really realised was empty.
He pulled his mouth off. “Do you have oil?”
Charlie was panting and shaking. He cleared his throat. “Robe. Pocket.” Harry rifled through the pockets and came up with a glass bottle. Charlie sank to his knees, his legs apparently giving way. Harry unscrewed the glass and then hesitated. “How do you want this?”
Charlie just looked blank.
“Do you like to give or receive?”
A dark flush stained those angelic cheeks but Charlie held his gaze from his position on his knees. “Receive. Please,” he whispered and Harry’s heart felt too big for his chest.
“On all fours in front of the fire,” he said and Charlie moved into position without a murmur. Harry looked at him. Kneeling in front of the roaring fire, light cascading over his pale skin, head down braced on his hands. He wondered how long it had been since he had given this to anyone.
He put the oil down carefully on the hearth and made himself go slow. He wanted this to be good. If this was the only chance he had to be with this man he wanted to make the most of it. He ran his hands down Charlie’s back, shoulders to buttocks, and explored the texture of his skin, the shape of his muscles. Like his front his back was peppered with scars. Some large, some small. There was a wicked, long scar down his left thigh. He dropped a kiss on the base of his spine, making Charlie squirm. Harry took his hips in both hands and kissed a little lower and felt the shiver that ran through him. He parted his cheeks with his thumbs and Charlie went still. Absolutely still. Perhaps he wasn’t ready for that.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered when he realised the reason for Charlie’s stillness. The man had stopped breathing.
Charlie’s breath hitched and he trembled. “Please…” he whispered.
Harry poured oil into his hand
s and coated his cock, then ran his fingers down Charlie’s crease. He rubbed gently, teasing his entrance until Charlie made a soft, desperate sound. He hesitated and toyed a little more and then inserted one finger; teasing, opening. Charlie made a sobbing sound, so he added another finger and stretched him before pushing both inside to rub against his spot. He found it and Charlie yelled aloud and pushed against his hand. “Now, now…please…” he panted.
Harry poured more oil on himself, determined not to hurt Charlie, and then pushed inside, bit by bit until he was fully seated and Charlie was moaning low and soft. He curled himself over Charlie’s back, kissed his neck, and wrapped an arm around his chest.
“Are you ready?” he whispered in his ear.
Charlie nodded. Harry knelt up, held onto Charlie’s shoulder and hip, and pulled out a little. This was not going to last long. Charlie’s long, muscled body was vibrating with need and Harry was so lost, so gone that just…Oh God. He surged into Charlie and set up a punishing rhythm. Charlie’s arms gave way and he sunk to his elbows and Harry followed, curving over him and pounding hard. His vision blurred and he knew he was close so he wrapped a hand around Charlie’s cock and pumped it in time with his thrusting and then Charlie was shouting aloud and spending. Harry fucked him through it and then collapsed as his body emptied itself into Charlie in the longest, hardest orgasm of his entire life.
They collapsed onto the floor, Harry managing to roll off, wincing as he pulled free. Charlie lay on his stomach so he tugged him a little until his head lay on Harry’s chest, his leg twined with Charlie’s, and he held on for dear life. How in the name of all that was holy had he gone from thinking that the man was attractive, but that there was not possibility of anything between them, because he was sure that Charlie would want more than he could give, to rolling on the floor in the front of the fire with him. What the fuck was he to do now? As his arms curved protectively around Charlie he felt panicked as he wondered just whose heart might be in danger.
