Unnatural

by Joanna Chambers

  “I’m not going to India,” he said.

  “What?” James said faintly.

  “I’m staying in England,” Iain said. “I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

  “I—I don’t understand,” James stammered. Suddenly, there were too many feelings boiling inside him, fear and hope and joy, and he found himself searching Iain’s eyes for some sign that he was misunderstanding his words, that disappointment was lurking somewhere close by.

  “I know I always told you there could never be more than friendship between us,” Iain continued. “But there was a time when you told me you wanted more from me, and I’m hoping that hasn’t changed. I’m hoping that, despite everything, you’re willing to trust me when I say I want that too now.”

  “Jesus, Iain—” James saw the man flinch at his pained tone. “You’ve walked away from me so many times...”

  Iain winced, closing his eyes briefly. “I know,” he said softly. “And I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

  “And now you want me to trust you?”

  Iain opened his eyes at that, and his blue gaze seemed to bore into James. “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes, I do want you to trust me. Whatever else I’ve done, I’ve never once made you a promise I haven’t kept, have I? Until this moment, I never offered you anything but friendship.”

  Slowly James shook his head. “No,” he admitted, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. “You were always very clear about that.”

  Iain ran his hands up James’s arms, curving his palms over James’s shoulders, drawing him even closer, so that their faces were mere inches apart.

  “Well, now I am promising more—if you still want me, Jamie. I admit I’m stupid and stubborn and damned slow on the uptake, but there’s one virtue I do have—I keep my word. You know that much about me.”

  James’s heart was galloping now, and he could barely swallow against the lump in his throat. He stared at Iain mutely.

  “Do you still want me, Jamie?” Iain asked softly. “Or am I too late?”

  James couldn’t look at Iain as he admitted the truth of his own feelings. He hung his head and whispered, “I do. I always have.” He paused. “I think I always will.”

  James felt Iain’s body sag in relief at that admission, but his own remained tense. Iain’s hands on his shoulders were warm and steadying, but James couldn’t bring himself to lean into that easy strength, and after a moment, Iain touched his chin, tipping James’s face up again, to meet his grave gaze.

  “You think this is a sudden turnabout,” he said “And in a way it is, but the truth is, I’ve loved you for a very long time, Jamie. I’ve had no change of heart about you. My change of heart is about me.”

  James eyed him warily. “What do you mean?”

  Iain sighed heavily. “You know I’ve always tried to be a certain kind of man for my family. My father wanted me to join the army, so I did. It was the only thing I ever did, after Tom died, that made him happy. I’ve spent my whole life—” His voice quivered and he broke off.

  “You’ve spent your whole life trying to make up for Tom’s death,” James finished for him gently. “I know.”

  Iain closed his eyes and nodded. “It’s hard to give up the idea they have of me. Or the one I thought they had, at least.”

  “Well, you’ve managed to leave the army, at least,” James said, offering a half smile. “That’s the worst bit done, isn’t it?”

  “I daresay,” Iain said, smiling wryly. “And anyway, the most important thing to me now is that I don’t lose any more time with you. I want to be with you, Jamie, starting now.”

  “You really want that?” James asked, still dubious.

  Iain’s gaze was serious. “More than anything.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “You, who never go with the same man twice?”

  “I’ve been with you twice,” Iain pointed out. “You’re the only one, though.”

  Absurd to feel so pleased by that. “Am I?”

  Iain nodded. “And I want you to be the only one from now on.”

  James swallowed and whispered, “Are you sure? Won’t you miss having other men?”

  Iain’s blue gaze was very intent, his hands warm and heavy on James’s shoulders. “Do you remember the night we argued at Kit Redford’s?” When James nodded, he said, “After you left, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d spent years doing my damnedest not to lose your friendship, yet I ended up bringing about my own worst fear with my actions. I won’t make that mistake again. There isn’t anything worse than being without you. I lived with the consequences of that mistake for two long years, and I was miserably unhappy. It took seeing you again to remember what happiness was. I can’t go back now. I—I couldn’t breathe without you, Jamie.”

  Iain was so close now that James could feel the warmth of his breath again his lips. He wanted to close the last fraction of an inch between them, but he was so damned scared. He closed his eyes against a sudden hot prickle of tears and whispered, “You can’t let me down, Iain. My heart won’t stand it. It’s a bit bruised, you know.”

  “I know. And I won’t.”

  “So, if you’ve got any doubts left, tell me now. I’d rather kn—”

  “No doubts,” Iain interrupted. “I promise.”

  “But just what are you promising me, Iain? What happens now?”

  Iain swallowed. “Let me come back to Derbyshire with you. Remember I used to talk about setting up a stud farm? You could lease me some land at your estate, perhaps. Or not. We’ll work out some reason for me to stay to satisfy the world. Just let’s be together.”

  “You’d do that?” James said incredulously. “Come to Derbyshire? Make a life there, just to be with me?”

  Iain’s smile was a bright, wonderful thing that made James feel lit up inside. “Yes, if you’re agreeable.”

  James said carefully, “So, I would see you regularly. Every week?”

  “Every day, if we can manage it,” Iain said. “What do you say to offering me a bedchamber in that big, empty manor house of yours while I set up my new stud farm? I warn you, I might turn out to be one of those houseguests who never leaves.”

  James pretended to consider that, tapping his chin. “I could hardly refuse to let my oldest friend in the world stay with me in his hour of need. Or demand that he leave if he outstays his welcome.”

  Iain laughed, a soft intimate gust against James’s lips that made him shiver. “That’s settled, then.”

  “Good,” James whispered. “And now that’s out the way, do you think you might take me to bed?”

  JAMES LED IAIN INTO the bedchamber by the hand, stopping at the end of the big bed with its blue silk coverlet.

  He reached for his cravat, and Iain whispered, “Can I undress you?”

  “All right.”

  Iain removed James’s clothing piece by piece, taking his time, lavishing care and attention on him. Standing behind him, he pressed small, delicate kisses to the back of James’s neck as he unwound his cravat, stroked his thumbs over the firm points of James’s nipples after drawing off his shirt.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into James’s ear as his hands unbuttoned the placket of his breeches. “No one else has ever come close.”

  “Is that so?” James huffed out a laugh, part disbelieving, part absurdly flattered. “Did you think of me when you were with other men?” He meant it to sound lighthearted; the sting in his voice appalled him.

  Behind him, Iain stilled, his lips hovering over the tender slope that connected neck and shoulder. Raising his hands from the buttons of James’s trousers, he slid them about his naked waist and pulled him close. “On a few occasions, yes, I did,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry, Jamie. When I think of you with someone else—”

  “What?” James whispered. “What does that do to you?”

  “It kills me. I hate it. That first time you told me about the others you’d been with, I wanted to hunt them down.” He gave a soft, unamu
sed laugh, then added, “Have there been many since the last time I saw you?”

  James shrugged. “One,” he admitted. “I don’t get the same opportunities as you do in London. Jonathan and I have...an understanding.”

  Iain’s arms tightened on him, and James gave a soft laugh of comprehension. “Had an understanding,” he amended. He turned in Iain’s arms and asked, seriously, “What about you? How many others since the last time we were together?”

  Iain’s gaze was steady. “Since that night? None.”

  James reeled at that. “What? No one? In two years.”

  Iain nodded, his expression curiously unreadable. “The last time was with you, after I saw you at the Black Boar Inn.”

  “I—why?”

  Iain shrugged. “I couldn’t bring myself to go back to Redford’s after that last time. I wanted to forget that night had ever happened.”

  “It’s not the only place you could have gone,” James pointed out.

  Iain just smiled at that. “True,” he said.

  Intriguing as that was, James decided not to push it further. “You must be desperate,” he murmured instead, canting his hips forward to brush his groin against the other man’s. “Two years with only your own hand?”

  Iain groaned at the light touch, closing his eyes. His hands had been on James’s waist, but now they moved lower, fingertips sliding inside his gaping breeches. James squirmed closer, encouraging him, and Iain’s hands pushed down till he was cupping James’s buttocks, cupping and stroking and pulling James closer with greedy hands.

  “I want you in there,” James whimpered against Iain’s throat. “I want you to fuck me, hard and deep.” He’d done that only once before and he hadn’t even liked it, but Jonathan had loved it—as had James, when it had been his turn to do the fucking—and somehow the thought of inciting such pleasure in Iain was irresistible. He could have his turn another time.

  Iain groaned against his ear. “Christ, are you sure?”

  “Yes, very sure.”

  “Do you have oil?”

  “Oil?”

  Iain pulled back, giving him a careful look. “Have you done this before?”

  James felt his face heat. “Once,” he said.

  “And you didn’t use any oil? Or anything like that?”

  James just knew his face was scarlet now. “No,” he said in a small voice. He guessed that was a mistake.

  Iain just smiled and kissed him, a small, sweet kiss, almost chaste. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll check the larder.”

  James decided to remove the rest of his clothes while he waited, and by the time Iain returned, carrying a small earthenware dish, James was lying, naked, on the snowy sheets.

  Iain’s gaze travelled up and down James’s body, his expression admiring.

  “You found oil?” James asked.

  “I did,” Iain replied, setting his prize down on the small cabinet beside the bed before turning back to look at James.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and his expression was so happy, his words so ready and sincere, that this time, James believed him. He let his own smile grow, and his gaze was steady on Iain while the man yanked off his cravat and shirt, then shucked his breeches and drawers and stockings till he was naked too.

  He crawled up the bed, sliding his body over James’s till he lay over him fully and they were face to face, chest to chest, groin to groin. It was almost too much all at once, after the years of longing. James wanted to explore every inch of skin, every nook and cranny of Iain’s body. All that, and yet he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Iain’s bright gaze, found himself returning the man’s steady regard as he waited, parched, for Iain’s kiss.

  Finally, slowly, Iain lowered his head, settling his mouth sweetly on James’s, the soft bristle of his whiskers tickling the edges of James’s lips. Teasing James’s lips open with the tip of his tongue, he licked more deeply into James’s mouth with a little moan that made James give a gasp of laughter, even as he kissed Iain back, opening up to Iain’s seeking tongue and meeting it with his own, his hands coming up to cradle the man’s head, fingers drifting into his silky hair.

  Iain’s hand stroked James’s flank restlessly as they kissed, on and on. James wanted more, but he didn’t want to stop the kiss to ask. Instead, he arched against Iain, pleading for more with his body, and finally, Iain gave him it, breaking their kiss to rake his teeth down James’s neck, traversing the ridge of his collarbone with soft brushes of his lips before dropping lower, fastening his teeth gently on James’s left nipple, making him gasp and writhe under the tormenting touch.

  James was sure his cock was harder than it had ever been before in his life. It pushed up against Iain’s stomach as Iain suckled lightly at his nipples, desperate for friction. And then Iain was going lower still, charting a course past ribs and belly and hipbones till he reached James’s desperate shaft.

  Iain greeted James’s cock with a long, flat lick of his tongue up the whole length, pulling a gasp from James’s chest. He enveloped the swollen head in his mouth and drove his mouth down, taking the whole throbbing length to the back of his throat, wresting a groan from James’s chest, deep and wrenching, a shameless, unadulterated plea for more. Was Iain going to drag his climax out of him? Make him so dazed with pleasure that he wouldn’t notice the pain of being sodomised?

  Apparently not, because now Iain was pulling his mouth off James’s cock and wriggling further down. Wantonly, James spread his thighs wider to accommodate Iain’s broad shoulders, but when Iain pushed on the backs of his thighs, urging him to raise his legs and expose the entrance to his body, he resisted, swallowing hard.

  Iain glanced up. “Come on,” he said gently. “It’ll help me make you ready for me.”

  “You don’t have to do anything to make me ready,” James said uncomfortably. “I can take you. I’ve done it before.”

  “I don’t want you to just take me. I want you begging for me. Desperate for my cock.” Holding James’s gaze, Iain gently pressed his thighs towards his chest. “I want you to come with me inside your body, want to see you coming as I slide in and out of you.”

  “I don’t see that happening,” James said faintly, even as he let Iain move his body into the undignified position he seemed to want. “But you could make me come right now just by sucking my cock for one more minute.”

  Iain chuckled. “At least let me try.”

  “All right,” James breathed, and then Iain was ducking down, his whiskers tickling the backs of James’s thighs as he kissed an affectionate path to James’s balls, pausing to lave his wrinkled sac with tender strokes of his tongue before moving down further.

  His tongue—God, his tongue—dragged delicately, sinfully down the valley between James’s buttocks, seeking out that most sensitive, private of all the parts of his body, and Christ but he felt exposed, visible to Iain in every particular. It was mortifying and exciting at once, and his face burned with fierce shame and fiercer lust as Iain took him apart, bit by bit.

  Iain’s tongue on him, there. Working at him, easing, pressing, softening. His fingers too. Pressing and pushing and wetness and—Christ!—moving inside him. And Iain was right. This felt so good that now the cries falling from his lips were pleas. Pleas for more, for Iain not to stop, God, please don’t stop.

  Iain rose to his knees, dipping his hand into the earthenware dish and bringing back fingers that dripped with golden oil. And then he was anointing James with the oil, his gaze moving between James’s opening and his flushed, pleading face.

  He leaned forward and kissed James hard.

  “Are you all right?” he asked unsteadily.

  “Yes,” James gasped. “Just, do it now. Please, Iain. Fuck me.”

  Iain reached for the oil again, this time lifting his dripping hand back to his own thick shaft and slowly coating it with glistening oil. “Turn over, then,” Iain murmured. “Much as I love looking at your face, I think you’ll find it easier.”

&
nbsp; James rolled onto his stomach and got up onto his knees.

  His nerves spiked again, but Iain’s hand stroking the small of his back settled him. Iain’s knees shifted closer, and he brought the fronts of his thighs into contact with the back of James’s. The slow sweep of his big hands up James’s sides soothed him briefly and then it was all too real as he felt the rude, blunt prod of that glistening cock against his hole...

  He thought Iain was going to shove it straight in as Jonathan had, but no, Iain was still playing with him. Now he slid his hard length along James’s crease over and over, the end of his cock nudging and pressing, almost breaching James, only to pull teasingly away again. Iain kept adding more: more oil, more sensation, more pressing fingers. Only when James was near incoherent with desire did Iain finally, blessedly, push inside him. He moved achingly slowly, and it was long minutes before he was fully inside James’s body, but once he was in, his iron control seemed to fracture a little, and he began punching his hips forward, his big hands gripping James’s hips so hard, James knew he’d have bruises in the morning.

  After the first few thrusts, something unspeakably pleasurable flashed inside James’s body, and he cried out, astonished, almost appalled by the fierce sensation. Iain snarled out a satisfied curse at his reaction but didn’t pause in his movements, just kept going. After that, though, almost every thrust delivered the same unbearable rasping delight.

  All this time, James had been bracing himself on his hands, but when Iain grated into his ear, “Touch yourself,” he reached for his cock and began to stroke in counterpoint to the devastating rhythm Iain set.

  “I’m going to spend,” he whimpered.

  “I want you to,” Iain assured him, licking his shoulder. “You’ve been so good, Jamie. Let me see you come for me.”

  He hadn’t even finished talking when James’s climax came. He howled as it gushed out of him, hot creamy pulses that just kept coming and coming, as though his balls wanted to empty themselves completely.

  This wasn’t anything like any orgasm he’d had before, the sort of orgasm that roared up his shaft from his balls. This came from deep inside him, from the very depths of his body, wrenched out of him by Iain’s patient determination.