by Bonnie Dee
“No.” Bennet glowered in that thunderous way which might have made Tobin nervous when they first met but didn’t bother him at all now. A moment of silence passed. “Yes,” Bennet grudgingly admitted.
Tobin reached a hand across the table to touch Bennet’s. “No need to shoulder all that pain alone. I want to help you bear it, be an ear to listen or an arm to lean on. If you’ll allow me, I’d…I’d like to ease your pain.”
The offer was obviously for more than a friendly sort of support. Bennet stared down at Tobin’s hand covering his for several moments. Then a miracle occurred. He turned his hand palm up and wove his fingers between Tobin’s, clasping their hands into a single unit.
Tobin’s heart stuttered, and he wished he hadn’t bolted his potatoes and gravy, as they didn’t rest easy in his stomach now. Something was about to happen between them. The passionate kisses they’d shared outdoors were about to reach their logical conclusion. Tobin sat patiently, waiting for Bennet to make the next move.
A few heartbeats passed. Bennet rose from his seat and pulled Tobin up from the table to face him. Green eyes peered into his and then Bennet spoke. “It’s been a very long while. I can’t…”
Tobin nodded, accepting his hesitancy, fears and doubts. “That’s all right. We can take our time.” I want to take it slow with you, ease your sorrow and remind you of all the good things we live for.
Bennet was dreaming. That was what he told himself as he led the man who had been a stranger to him yesterday into his bedroom. In a dream, there was no need to ponder or make decisions. Things simply happened to one. It was a refreshing thought. He could relax and let go of all the bad memories that tied him up in knots. He could enjoy Gregory Tobin’s ginger hair and delightful freckles and pale body for this one night.
He winced at the sight of his unmade bed, which must smell of sheep and sweaty man. But if Tobin minded, he gave no sign of it. He pulled his hand away and removed the waistcoat and shirt Bennet had lent him. With the same ease he’d demonstrated at the pump, he stripped his torso to the skin, then faced Bennet, allowing him to inspect the hard, lean lines of his form. Not a trace of discomfort, nor of vanity either, simply a complete ease with his own body.
Jacob was like that. Bennet thrust the thought from his mind. These next few hours were not for dwelling on the past. They were to be lived precisely in the moment. Thinking that way gave him courage to follow Tobin’s example and strip off his woolen jumper and pull down his suspenders. The undershirt went next, followed by shoes, socks and trousers. He didn’t need to think, only to act. See how easy? And now he stood utterly naked in front of the visiting lawyer, exposing himself as Tobin had.
His skin felt feverish all over, itchy and almost tingling, but in a very good way. Tobin’s beautiful blue eyes traveled from his face down to his feet, and Bennet felt their touch like a physical thing. The satisfaction in the other man’s gaze made him feel large and proud—that was how his cock reacted, at any rate. It thrust forward, demanding the attention.
Bennet would have been more distracted by the many sensations tumbling through his body, but he was too busy drinking in the sight of Gregory Tobin slowly unfastening his borrowed trousers—which hung loose on his narrow hips—and letting them drop. He stripped off his smalls and his shoes, all without removing his gaze from Bennet, then he straightened, and the pair of them stood face-to-face, nude.
Excitement shivered Bennet’s frame and made goose bumps rise on his flesh. He thought he could spend from the mere intensity of Tobin’s attention. But there was more physical activity awaiting both of them. He stepped forward, lifted a hand and pressed it against the soft red-gold hairs on Tobin’s chest and the hard breastbone beneath. The man’s heart pounded. Or was that his own? Bennet could hardly tell where his excitement left off and Tobin’s began. He moved his hand slowly down, past the chest hairs, over bare skin, and then to the light furry trail that led from Tobin’s navel down to his… Bennet couldn’t tear his gaze away from the pale rod that thrust from the tuft of ginger curls. Tobin was so aroused that the flushed and engorged tip of his cock already protruded from his foreskin.
Bennet licked his lips, his own erection swelling as if eager to match Tobin’s, and he slowly wrapped his hand around the other man’s thick shaft. The heft and girth of it filling his palm made Bennet groan softly. Christ, he was salivating like a starving dog, so eager was his mouth to wrap around that beautiful cock.
But before he could begin to kneel, Tobin reached out to mirror his move. That large freckled hand grasped Bennet’s cock and pulled and…oh God…pulled. He was going to come. There was no stopping the surge of need rushing through him. And then, Tobin clamped his thumb and forefinger around the base of Bennet’s cock, stopping the momentum.
“Shh. Not so soon.” He smiled. “I know you’re eager. I am too. But we can make this first time last.”
First time, suggesting there would be more to come as the evening unfolded. Bennet quivered, then clamped his jaw tight, mentally forcing the rising ecstasy down inside him. If Tobin could hold off, he could too. To keep himself from losing control, Bennet focused on what he was doing for Tobin. He massaged the other man’s staff with light pressure, then more vigor, noting how the pale skin had grown rosy all the way down the shaft. For some reason, that made him think of a kettle building a head of steam and about to blow. Damned if he wouldn’t ensure that Tobin spent before he did! He redoubled his efforts.
“Not a contest,” Tobin grunted, as if reading his mind. “Stop now and let me…” He released Bennet’s member and slid both hands up his body. The brush of skin over skin all the way from groin to shoulders, then down Bennet’s arms made every part of him feel alive and awake.
Tobin stepped close and pressed a soft kiss to Bennet’s mouth. To his neck. To his chest. And back to his mouth again. Smooth hands skimmed down his back and rested on the curve of his arse, kneading lightly. Tobin’s every touch reminded Bennet how coming together could be long and playful, not merely the rushed, furtive coupling that went on in certain alleys or churchyards where strangers met. He recalled entire afternoons melting into evenings during which he and Jacob—the real Jacob—had scarcely gotten out of bed.
Tobin broke away from Bennet’s grip on his cock to move behind him. He kissed the back of his neck and the span of his shoulders. He pressed his nose between Bennet’s shoulder blades and inhaled his scent, then licked a single stripe all the way down his spine. Bennet actually heard the slight cracking of Tobin’s knees as he bent and licked and kissed his way across his lower back and upper arse cheeks. Bennet’s anus clenched tight as he imagined penetration there. He craved it so deeply that his erection oozed pearly drops, shimmering on the edge of climax.
Tobin straightened, rested his thickness in the groove of Bennet’s arse, and began to rock. His arms clasped around Bennet, cheek resting warmly on his back. Taking hold of Bennet’s cock, he rubbed it in time with his thrusting motion.
“Ah yes,” Tobin murmured against his skin. “So good like this.”
Bennet closed his eyes and gripped a post at the foot of his bed. Tobin thrust against him, over but not into his entrance, while continuing to massage his cock. Bennet had nothing to do but hold on and float away on sensation. With closed eyes, it seemed that Tobin’s thrusts and pulls became one and the same, giving both of them equal pleasure. Bennet hardly knew where one left off and the other began.
He lost time then, as heat and friction built and Tobin’s body ground against his. Several seconds or many minutes later, the push and the pull grew in intensity, faster, harder, more insistent until…until… Bennet cried out as powerful orgasm poured through him, and Tobin, now biting down on his shoulder, groaned loudly too.
White streamers jetted from his cock to land on the foot of his bed, and Bennet felt the warm spurt from Tobin’s release on his lower back. The other man collapsed against him. B
ennet’s arms and legs shook from holding their combined weight. He thought he might just slither bonelessly to the floor.
Sucking in a breath, he straightened and turned to face Tobin again. He took hold of the slighter man and pulled him up tight, crushing him in a dancing bear’s embrace. There were no words he could say to express his gratitude for the sense of awakening flowing through him, so he showed his feelings in that embrace.
Tobin’s arms clung around him too, and the man’s voice was muffled by his chest. “Guess we both needed that. What say we tumble into your bed now and find out what other mischief we can get up to?”
Chapter Eleven
Tobin had made the joking remark as something of an invitation but also a challenge. He expecting Bennet to unwrap his arms and rush out to the sheep pens. Yet Bennet only held on to him wordlessly, in a grip so tight Tobin had trouble pulling in a full breath.
He didn’t complain.
We aren’t done yet. Tobin felt a rush of joy. They weren’t going to run away from this momentous event. Not like that first near-encounter Bennet pretended hadn’t occurred.
Tobin kissed the sweaty flesh under his mouth and enjoyed the shudder that ran through Bennet’s body.
Desire already woke again. A minute earlier, he’d been entirely sated, but now he could feel the brush of skin against his cock and knew he swelled with eagerness again.
He wiggled away enough to grab Bennet’s arm and shoved him toward the bed. Tobin hadn’t known he had a taste for control, but he did enjoy pushing Bennet around a bit. Perhaps because the man’s stubbornness called out to his own? He hardly cared. Thinking was not high on his list of activities when he saw that muscular figure sprawled faceup, a delicious spread for him to enjoy—or as spread as it could be on such a meager bed.
He pictured that body in his own bed, which was large and had far softer sheets. He wouldn’t even care if Bennet brought the smell of lanolin and the barnyard into the bed. In fact, Tobin suspected that from now on the smell of sheep would act like an aphrodisiac.
He paused, staring down at Bennet, who was not likely to willingly return to London—and if he did, it wouldn’t be to dally with Tobin.
“I’d best take you while I can.”
Bennet’s brow furrowed. “Less than an hour, I’d say. The ewe in the east corner—”
Tobin bent and stopped him with a kiss. He climbed onto the bed and loomed over Bennet on all fours before lowering himself onto Bennet’s powerful body.
They kissed until Tobin grew dizzy and his mouth almost too sensitive. He didn’t want to take time to breathe or think—or allow Bennet to think. When Bennet opened his mouth to speak, Tobin took it as an invitation to kiss.
His naked skin against Bennet warmed his sweat-cooled flesh, and Tobin writhed so he could sense every inch, wishing he could go deep, all the way into Bennet’s taut body. He wanted to bury his cock in Bennet, but he wanted more. With his cock and his balls and his body, he’d erase everything but pleasure for them both.
He reached beneath Bennet and squeezed and kneaded the globes of his arse, crudely, hardly caring that he might be rougher than Bennet liked. But no, Bennet pushed up, their erections sliding against each other, already slick again. Tobin reached between them and tried to wrap both cocks in his hand. “Ha, can’t get my hand round us all,” he whispered. Bennet pushed up as Tobin ground against him.
The pressure, the hot breath and tickling beard against his cheek were good, but not what he wanted. He was hungry.
Ignoring Bennet’s groan of protest, Tobin rose on his hands and knees, determined to kiss and lick his way down this amazing body. He tasted each inch of skin and hair, memorizing the flavor and the texture, nosing the hair on the hard belly and drawing in deep breaths.
“You do enjoy using….ah….your mouth.” Bennet thrust up as Tobin grabbed him and began feathery licks from base to head.
He paused but didn’t let go of his grip. “Do you dislike it?”
“Oh no. No, no. But oh, God…” Bennet’s words vanished into a sigh when Tobin drew him into his mouth and sucked hard. He loved the taste, the girth and feel of that cock. Such a pleasant shape too. He drew back and held Bennet’s cock in his fist as he examined it.
“Is this wood or iron?” he mused.
“Tobin,” pleaded Bennet.
He licked meditatively. “Mm. Wood. Hard but so very alive.”
Tobin ran his fingers up and down the length, letting his palm rest on the rounded head. His mouth and Bennet’s pre-spendings had made the lovely dark shaft slick. “Far softer than satin.”
“What… Oh God.” Bennet pushed up. “What the devil are you….ahh. Talking about? Gah.”
Tobin didn’t bother to explain he was taking notes on this experience so that when their time was over and he was alone again, he’d have something to remember. He stared down at the cock, average sized, perhaps slightly larger, the head protruding from foreskin, and felt entirely possessive.
“This.” He lowered his head and lapped at the warm salt on Bennet’s cock and spoke between licks. “This is perfect. Not iron or satin or wood, but man.”
He ignored the snort of impatient amusement above his head and slid a hand up to cup Bennet’s sac. The man was close to coming, and so soon after the last time. The urgency in Bennet’s small moans, the restless motion, his arm slung across his eyes as if he wanted to hide from his need. All of it made Tobin smile, but the smile faded because his excitement was also out of the ordinary. He touched his cock, and his fingers felt familiar, but here—lying next to the panting, heaving Bennet and tasting him—even his own hand was something new and magical.
This moment was worth the endless train journeys he’d taken. The fact that he’d made the journey for professional concerns meant nothing when he touched Bennet and himself at the same time.
He’d make them spend at the same moment, reaching that pinnacle of pleasure together. He’d put himself in charge, and this was one of his goals. Memorizing Bennet was the other. He stroked and sucked and knew he must work harder because his body came too close.
At the same time.
The image of Bennet helpless under his control was too much. He swore as his climax hit him, swore and squeezed Bennet’s cock.
Body still trembling, Tobin didn’t take time to enjoy the ease of release, but turned his attention back to his task.
“Next time,” he breathed.
“What?” Bennet looked down at him, heavy eyed, lips parted, breath coming fast. “My God, look at you.” He stared, obviously fascinated by Tobin, who met that gaze until Bennet’s eyes closed and his head went back. He cursed. “Good Lord, Tobin! Gregory, Gregory.”
Tobin bobbed his head faster as his hand slid along the man’s glorious erection.
Under his hand and mouth, Bennet swelled, then his body bucked, and the warm liquid filled Tobin’s mouth.
Not perfect, but nearly, Tobin decided as he rested his head on Bennet’s hard thigh. He watched his breath stir the dark hair on Bennet’s skin.
Bennet shifted under him, impatient to move, probably. Tenderness was done, and now came the sheep.
Tobin suppressed a sigh.
“Come here,” Bennet demanded and—what a miracle—his arms were spread wide.
Tobin slid up and tucked his body against Bennet, for affection’s sake and because he was perilously close to tumbling off the narrow bed.
Again the arms came around him, strong and passionate, and holding him in place.
Bennet’s mouth pressed to his, his tongue brushing Tobin’s lips. After several long luxurious kisses, Tobin propped himself up on an arm and looked down at Bennet.
“Thank you.” Bennet’s voice was gruff, but those eyes shone, too bright. And Tobin was shocked by the tear that slid from the corner of his eye.
A polite man would hav
e ignored it, but Tobin traced it with his finger. “You are so very welcome,” he said.
“I hadn’t known I was so lonely.” His smile was a wince. “Christ, what a ridiculous reason for sorrow.”
“What?”
He shook his head, then said, “I’ll be lonely again.”
Tobin swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted to announce that of course he could stay at the farm, live with the wind, the sheep and Bennet even though the thought was absurd. His true life and livelihood were in London. He loved London.
Worse, if he spoke about the city or his job, he’d remind Bennet of that world, and the moment would end. Tobin instinctively knew that any mention of Bennet’s old life would shut down intimacy. The wariness would chill those eyes, and Tobin would be outside the rare warmth, probably forever. The dour farmer amused him, but this man touched him…and not just with skillful fingers.
For once, Gregory Tobin stayed silent.
But not for long. He was in awe of the vulnerability, but the sorrow in those eyes made him want to tell awful jokes, or prance around and flap his arms like a startled chicken—anything to make Bennet smile. Tobin rested his head on the pillow next to him, brushing his fingers through Bennet’s soft beard. He gave it a tug. “I know you have a good chin under there and a glorious upper lip. I’ve seen the pictures.”
White teeth flashed. “My beard is better than the rough stubble you’re growing.”
Tobin ran fingers over his own chin and groaned. “I probably look a sight.”
“A half-wild creature,” Bennet agreed. “No longer any sort of gentleman.”
The dog gave an imperious bark nearby, and Tobin started.
He scrambled from the bed and snatched up his clothes. “Do you suppose there are visitors?”
Bennet was still flat on his back. “Bets would have a lot more to say if someone approached.” He yawned and stretched but then climbed off the bed too. “That was nearby, so I expect she was making an announcement.”
