Lindsey, meanwhile, had made some effort to bite back his smile, yet his sheer delight overpowered any attempt at restraint.
Likewise, the sight of it overpowered Aubrey’s own incredulity, and he let out a bark of laughter.
Lindsey grinned freely. “Do you like it?”
“You—!” Aubrey struggled to complete his thought. Between his disbelief at Lindsey’s audacity and his joy at Lindsey’s satisfaction, he had another, unaccountable, even more unexpected emotion.
Relief.
No longer need he wonder who had purchased his image. No longer need he worry about whose hands his own nude form had fallen into, and to what new audiences it might be exposed. No longer need he concern himself with being put on display for untold strangers’ gawking.
At his most vulnerable, Lindsey had come riding to his rescue and carried him away to safety.
Had they not, at that moment, stood in the middle of the foyer, Aubrey could’ve kissed Lindsey. He settled for taking him by the elbow, twining their arms together and clasping his hand very tight. Lindsey squeezed his hand in turn.
“Where shall we hang it?” Lindsey asked, jolting Aubrey out of his internal reflection.
Aubrey, having never hung a painting in his life, felt somewhat at a loss. As he considered possibilities—the morning room, the study, the library—he found they didn’t feel quite right, either. None so public as the foyer, but still more public than Aubrey thought prudent. Then his mind fell upon the natural conclusion. “Perhaps the antechamber to the master bedroom?”
The moment he spoke the words, he wished he’d given them more consideration. The bedroom was, after all, Lindsey’s, and not his own. It seemed a rather flagrant example of vanity to request his own visage to be displayed in a location so unavoidably intimate, to demand Lindsey confront his nude form laid out across the wall every night he spent in this house.
Still, Lindsey had asked his opinion.
And, in direct opposition to Aubrey’s fears, Lindsey seemed to take no offence to the notion. On the contrary, he looked positively delighted by it.
“The bedroom, indeed!” he said, and clapped Aubrey on the shoulder.
Together, they peeled the remaining planks off of the crate, until the whole painting stood exposed. Then with Lindsey at one end of the frame and Aubrey at the other, they carried it up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom. A nail, a hammer, and a wire later, and Icarus Fallen rose into its appointed place.
“There is something haunting in it, by the gaslight,” Lindsey murmured as he and Aubrey stood side-by-side in consideration of the fruits of their labours.
“Just think how it’ll look under electric light,” Aubrey replied.
Lindsey’s face lit up at the notion. “Grand, I’d wager.”
“I’d wager I could show you something grander.”
Lindsey glanced down at him with a curious look. Aubrey took the opportunity to kiss him. From there, Lindsey proved quite pliable, and Aubrey guided him back into the bedroom proper, shedding layers of clothing all the way to the bed to lie side-by-side, Lindsey’s lean frame curled around Aubrey’s body.
Aubrey clenched his bare thighs tight, and Lindsey’s cock slipped between them, sliding under Aubrey’s own prick, the tip of one tracing the vein on the underside of the other with every thrust, delicious and tantalising. Then Lindsey’s hand slid down Aubrey’s front to grasp both their cocks. From behind his bucking hips drove Aubrey’s forward in the same motion, both men thrusting as one. And all the while, Lindsey’s lips fell upon Aubrey’s collar and throat, pressing kisses and sucking bruises, and whispering his name into his ear. Aubrey felt Lindsey’s heart thudding through his back to reverberate in his own chest, so close had he clasped him. So thoroughly claimed. So tightly embraced.
Then Lindsey’s hips stuttered, and his stream of affection whispers broke off with a sudden cry as his crisis overcame him, spilling his seed into his hand and coating Aubrey’s prick with it. He collapsed against Aubrey’s shoulder and lay there insensible for some moments, long enough for Aubrey to turn in his arms and sidle closer to him, kissing him back to consciousness.
Aubrey’s own prick still hung heavy with arousal between his thighs, and he’d almost resigned to finishing himself off, unwilling to disturb the beautiful peace of Lindsey’s bliss, when Lindsey kissed him in return—first upon his lips, and then sliding lower, to his throat, his collar, and further still. Aubrey gasped to feel the fluttering touch of Lindsey’s lips upon his navel. Then those same lips wrapped around his cock-head, and Lindsey swallowed him down.
Instinctively, Aubrey’s fingers tangled in Lindsey’s golden curls, and his hips bucked of their own accord. The ministrations of Lindsey’s tongue gave exquisite pleasure, almost tormented him, until his stones drew up and his breath ceased, and he poured his essence into Lindsey, overcome by his own ecstasy.
Those long arms twined around him once again as Lindsey came up to kiss him, and Aubrey drifted off with the taste of himself on Lindsey’s tongue.
When Aubrey awoke, it was not yet dawn. The horizon had only just begun to brighten, turning the pure black of the night into an inky blue. Lindsey remained asleep, his aquiline features in repose looking not unlike an angel carved from marble. Aubrey took care not to wake him as he crept out of bed and took a candle out into the antechamber.
Icarus Fallen remained unchanged by what little time had passed—and yet, by flickering candlelight, it held a certain mystery. Aubrey gazed transfixed upon his own sleeping image for some time.
Then soft footsteps padded the floorboards behind him, and long arms wrapped around his shoulders. A familiar pair of lips pressed a kiss just behind his ear. Aubrey leaned back into the embrace.
“My very own Icarus,” Lindsey whispered.
Aubrey considered the words and the painting alike. “From Ganymede to Icarus… Snatched up only to fall.”
Lindsey tightened his grasp around him, a brief squeeze full of reassuring affection. “Not while I have any say in the matter.”
“You’d catch me, then?” Aubrey asked, unable to keep from smiling.
“I would.” Another kiss. “Besides, I think you’re more of a Prometheus. Bringer of fire. Giver of light.”
Aubrey wished he knew more of Classical mythology, so he might say something equally clever and complimentary in return. No matter how far he fell, Lindsey would catch him. And Aubrey could never appreciate him enough. He could damned well try, though, and to this end he turned in Lindsey’s arms to kiss him. When it broke, Lindsey gazed down upon him with an expression both bemused and bashful.
“Would you have bought the painting if you didn’t know me?” Aubrey asked.
Lindsey gave the painting a long and thoughtful look. At last he returned his gaze to Aubrey and spoke.
“Had I never met you—and though it pains me to consider such a world, I will do so for the sake of argument—I would still have purchased the painting. For love of the subject, of the painter’s skill, and, yes, I must concede, of the model. I would have spent many hours in contemplation of the personality behind such a visage and form. I would have imagined what course our conversation might take if I should ever chance to meet him in the flesh. I would wonder if such beauty really existed in life, or if the paintbrush had conjured and shaped it.” He caught Aubrey’s eye with a solemn look. “I can assure you, having met the model, that while the artist’s talent is great, it is not so great as to have imagined out of whole cloth the casual elegance, the raw beauty, the force which demands an otherwise casual observer must stop and stare in awestruck wonder at such a vision.”
It took Aubrey a moment to recover the power of speech. “You think him rather handsome, then?”
Aubrey wanted his comment to sound playful, a lighthearted method of relieving the intensity of Lindsey’s praise. The break in his voice rather spoilt the effect.
Lindsey didn’t laugh at his weakness. Didn’t see the break in
his armour as an opportunity to press on to victory in their debate. Didn’t taunt Aubrey for daring to believe himself desired still. Lindsey had never done such a thing. Lindsey never would.
Instead, Lindsey raised his hand to Aubrey’s cheek, gently laid his fingers along his jawline and lifted his chin. Not forcing him to look up, and not quite giving him permission, either, but rather reminding Aubrey that he had the right to meet Lindsey’s gaze. He looked deep into Aubrey’s eyes, not a flicker of humour alleviating the gravity of his expression.
“Yes,” Lindsey said. “I rather do.”
Aubrey kissed him.
The action proved far less measured and gentle than Lindsey’s words—involving both of Aubrey’s hands pulling Lindsey down to meet him, fingers tangling in his golden curls, a ravenous mouth seeking to devour his. Yet it expressed much the same sentiment.
And as Lindsey melted into it, Aubrey knew he understood.
THE END
About the Author
Sebastian Nothwell lives in Massachusetts. When he’s not writing books, he is haunting libraries and museums for research to write more books. To learn more about this and other books, visit sebastiannothwell.com
Other books by this author
Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by Sebastian Nothwell:
The Aubrey & Lindsey Series
Mr Warren’s Profession
Throw His Heart Over
The Hold Fast Series
Hold Fast
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Throw His Heart Over Page 18
