by Ava March
Tristan shuddered, groaned, his lashes fluttering, his upper body practically melting into the mattress. There was no doubt about it. Tristan really did enjoy getting a swift smack on the arse. It was tempting to grab the paddle from the trunk, but another night. Tonight, he had a specific plan in mind for Tristan. A plan that should take Tristan far beyond the point of utter desperation.
Three more smacks, just enough to turn Tristan’s skin a becoming shade of pink, then Max reached for the bundle of leather on the bed.
“Stand up and turn around.”
Tristan did as bid. His erection jutted from his body. The cuffs Max had placed on him when he’d first walked into the room adorned his wrists. He glanced down to the bundle in Max’s hands. “What’s that?”
Max pulled the long line from the mass of leather and buckles and tossed it toward the headboard. “We don’t need the line just yet. This...” He held up the harness. “This we do need now. It’s a harness of sorts. Buckles around your waist, then the two lines in the back come up and buckle to the front. It’s going to keep that—” he tipped his head toward the black marble dildo on the bedside table, “—in place.”
Tristan’s eyes widened. Not with trepidation, but with unadulterated lust. “Yes, please.”
The trust Tristan had given him, the trust Max had in Tristan...
The harness clutched in one hand, Max cupped the back of Tristan’s neck, slanted his mouth over Tristan’s.
Before he could grow too fond of kissing Tristan, Max pulled back.
Head tipped down, Tristan watched as Max reached around him and settled the leather in place.
“Did you buy it at that shop?”
“Yes,” he said, as he buckled the belt portion around Tristan’s waist. When he’d seen it hanging on a hook amidst a display of restraints and riding crops, his mind had spun with the possibilities. So much so, he’d had to will down the erection those possibilities had sparked. “Perhaps we could make use of it during a rainy afternoon, have you wear it beneath your clothes. With a plug strapped in place, you might not be able to trounce me so soundly at billiards. But that’s for another time. Tonight, I want you on the bed, on your back.”
Tristan turned and climbed onto the bed, the two thinner lines dangling over his still-pink arse.
“Arms up.”
Without a trace of hesitation, Tristan reached over his head, leather cuffs brushing the headboard. Using the line he’d tossed onto the mattress, Max tied Tristan’s wrists to one of the spindles spanning the width of the headboard.
Max passed an assessing eye over Tristan’s prone form. Tristan had some bend in his elbows. The position didn’t look uncomfortable. “All right?”
Once he had the nod from Tristan, Max divested himself of his trousers and grabbed the bottle of oil and the dildo from the bedside table. The dildo was nowhere near as long as the massive one he’d found in the chest of drawers at Rubicon’s. In fact, he’d deliberately chosen one that was barely half the length of his own cock. It was short and extremely thick, so much so his fingers couldn’t enclose the width. Perfect for tonight.
He settled between Tristan’s spread thighs and dropped the dildo onto the mattress.
A wrinkle flickered across Tristan’s brow, his gaze on Max’s hand as Max slicked his own cock with oil.
The dildo was much too thick to use on Tristan without substantial preparation. Not that the preparation would be a hardship for Max. Definitely not. “I’m going fuck you first, then I’m going to work that dildo into your arse.”
“Oh hell and damnation,” Tristan whispered, the curse soaked with lust. He speared Max with a hot stare. “Yes, please, Max.” Drawing his knees up to bracket his chest, he offered his arse to Max.
Using first his fingers and then his cock, Max stretched Tristan’s hole, prepared him. Moans interspersed with curses backed by frustration tumbled past Tristan’s lips. Max set his jaw, resisted the urge to give in to the almost overwhelming demand to slam hard and fast into Tristan. The fuck wasn’t meant to satisfy either of them. Hands clutching Tristan’s hips, Max kept his thrusts slow and shallow, occasionally pulling all the way out then pushing back in. He savored every stroke, every lush tug of Tristan’s body along his length. Because after tonight, it would be a good week before he’d allow himself to bugger Tristan again.
When the tightness of the muscles gripping his cock began to ease a bit, when he could slide inside Tristan without encountering much resistance, Max leaned back and reached for the dildo.
“Ready for this?”
“Yes, yes, please.” The words rushed from Tristan’s mouth. He added an eager nod.
Max coated the dildo liberally with oil. Holding the rectangular base, he splayed his other hand on Tristan’s right arse cheek, spread him wider. Then he positioned the crown at Tristan’s entrance and gently pushed.
Tristan’s hands clenched into fists. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding. On the exhale, his hands relaxed, and the black marble crown made the breach.
A harsh wince seized Tristan’s eyes shut. Max pulled back, gave Tristan a moment and tried again.
It took some doing. A lot of gentle nudges and pauses, but eventually Tristan was able to take the full length of the short toy. And when Max settled the rectangular base against his skin, Tristan’s mouth fell open on a hoarse, guttural groan that was drenched in pleasure.
“All right?”
This time, Tristan gave him only a nod, and a slow one at that. His eyes were heavy-lidded, mere slits. The flush staining his cheekbones now tinged his chest.
Max drew the two lines up from between Tristan’s legs, crossed them over the base of the dildo and attached them to the small buckles on either side of the front of the leather belt. Like an erotic picture frame, the dark leather V bracketed his ballocks and erection. An erection that appeared as though Tristan was but one touch from climaxing.
“You are not to climax until I give you permission.”
That got Tristan’s attention. His eyes snapped open. Well, halfway open. Max could read the indignation and frustration on his beautiful face.
“Trust me. The wait will be worth it.”
Tristan pursed his lips. Then he nodded.
Satisfied he’d received Tristan’s word, Max bent down. Licked a path up the underside of Tristan’s very hard cock. Flicked his tongue over the crown, lapping up the bead of fluid. He didn’t take Tristan into his mouth. Instead, he teased him. Prodded the need within Tristan. Pushed him to the point of utter desperation, but didn’t push him beyond it. Yet.
“Holy Mother... Oh, hell, Max. Bloody fucking hell.”
God, how he adored the sound of Tristan cursing him.
He pressed a kiss to the crown. Let his mouth open, let his lips begin to slide over the silken skin. Then he pulled back.
“Bastard! God and hell.” Feet planted on the mattress, Tristan lifted his hips, reaching toward Max’s mouth. The movement must have jostled the dildo for he let out a gasp. A shudder racked his body. Every muscle drew beyond tight.
Max quickly reached out, wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base of Tristan’s cock and squeezed tightly. Waited a moment, and then released him. “Better?”
Tristan nodded. His chest worked under the force of his panting breaths, but at least he appeared as though he was no longer much too close to losing the fight to hold back a climax.
“Good.” Max grabbed the bottle again, poured oil onto his fingers. Reaching behind, he slicked his entrance. Quickly pushed three fingers inside himself. A definite sting, but he’d be taking more than that soon enough.
All the while, he watched as comprehension dawned on Tristan’s face. Tristan let out a threadbare whimper, one that was absolutely soaked in eagerness.
Max straddled Tristan’s waist, t
ucking his calves under Tristan’s spread thighs. Careful to keep from resting his weight on Tristan’s slim, dildo-stuffed body, he balanced on his knees. With one hand, he reached behind and under himself and held Tristan’s cock steady.
“Deep breath now.” Max followed his own advice and then lowered.
He didn’t know if the low, rough groan came from himself or Tristan.
Sweet, luscious pleasure backed by a stinging stretch swamped Max’s senses as he sank lower and lower onto Tristan’s not-insubstantial erection. Only when his arse touched his knuckles did he stop. Another deep breath, and he released his hold on the base of Tristan’s cock and picked up a slow rhythm. Up and down, his and Tristan’s moans blending together.
Leaning back slightly, he found the perfect angle, the one where the head of Tristan’s cock rubbed against that fantastic spot inside him with each downward thrust of Max’s hips. He felt the orgasm build within, gather at the base of his spine. And he did nothing to hold it back. On any other night, he’d have wanted Tristan’s climax first. But that didn’t fit with the plan he’d devised while sitting at his desk that morning. Tonight, he wanted Tristan to follow him.
Max grabbed his own cock. Two strokes and the orgasm slammed through him. Seed shot from the crown, painting Tristan’s flawless chest.
He felt the tremble roll through Tristan’s body.
“Max, please. Please!”
“Permission granted.” Max tightened his muscles as he rode Tristan’s cock, doing everything in his power to drive Tristan wild with pleasure.
His efforts did not go unrewarded.
Tristan threw back his head. Exquisite bliss seized his features. He let out an unholy shout that rattled Max’s eardrums, as Max felt Tristan climax inside of him.
Max leaned forward, dropping onto his forearms. “Happy birthday,” he whispered.
A pause.
The rhythm of Tristan’s panting breaths faltered. A furrow wrinkled his brow. He hadn’t thought Max had remembered.
Lifting off Tristan, Max tugged the line, releasing the knot around the headboard’s spindle and releasing Tristan. Then he unbuckled the leather belt, gently removed the dildo, grabbed a wet cloth and cleaned them both up, all the while doing his best to hide the smile.
Max settled on the edge of the bed and held out a hand. “The cuffs. Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep with them on.”
Tristan pushed up into a seated position and gave Max his wrist. His hair was a tousled mess, sticking up at odd angles with portions stuck to his sweat-dampened temples. “How did you know? Hell, I’d forgotten all about it myself.”
“‘I was born on September twenty-third, 1800. I may not appear to be one-and-twenty, but it is the truth.’” Max recited the lines Tristan had thrown at him during their first night together. “Though you’re now two-and-twenty.”
Tristan gaped at him. “You remembered?”
Max tipped his head and got to his feet to put everything back into the trunk. “Of course. You were quite annoyed with me.” All flashing eyes and bristly spine. Magnificent. Not that Max had thought so at the time. Now? He was rather fond of the way Tristan stood his ground with him, though it was a trait he tended to appreciate more after the fact.
After blowing out the candle, Max stretched out on the bed, half-sprawled over Tristan.
“Thank you, Max.” Tristan’s arm tightened around Max’s back. “You made today a day I won’t ever forget.”
And with a smile on his lips, Max let sleep overtake him.
Chapter Fifteen
Tristan tightened his fingers in Max’s hair, gave the soft strands a tug. Max never heeded his warnings. Still, Tristan couldn’t stop himself from giving them. His ballocks hitched up tight to his body. His heart slammed against his ribs, the climax coiling down his spine.
Cold, October predawn air hit his wet cock.
“Not yet,” Max said, more grunt than actual words.
The dark form of Max shifted up from between Tristan’s spread legs, loomed above him. There was the soft sound of a drawer opening. Max worked a hand between their bodies. Oil-slicked fingers swept across his hole. Pushed inside. Then it wasn’t Max’s fingers, but Max’s cock demanding entrance. And Max’s mouth was on his, his strong body over Tristan, inside him, thrusting deep and hard. Shoving them toward a climax, shoving them over the edge.
Max collapsed on top of him. Rather than shift off to the side, Max kissed a path up Tristan’s neck, captured his mouth. Looping his arms over Max’s broad shoulders, Tristan soaked up the slow, lazy kiss.
Waking up to Max’s mouth on his cock and then a fuck?
What a way to start the day.
...start the day?
Max didn’t bugger him in the mornings. And he’d just buggered Tristan last night. That had been last night, correct? Yes, that had definitely been last night. Max had made him wait eight days after his birthday before he’d agree to fuck him again. No way had Tristan mixed up the nights.
Max broke the kiss. He let out a sigh, one that sounded decidedly...reluctant.
A knot of worry wrapped around Tristan’s gut.
“I need to go to London for a short bit,” Max said.
“When?”
“Today. This morning. I won’t be gone long.”
“Oh.” It was the only thing Tristan could think to say.
I won’t be gone long.
Max did not intend for Tristan to travel with him.
He was going to leave Tristan at the Park.
“Really, I won’t be but a few days. It’s a pressing business matter, and I need to be in London. Need to discuss it with my solicitors. Letters will not suffice.”
“I understand.”
And he did understand. Max was a very busy man with lots of responsibilities. While he didn’t travel often, he couldn’t stay at the Park indefinitely. And it wasn’t like Tristan could tag after Max in London. It was easy to pass himself off as a good friend from Town while in Hampshire. The society in the village was very small, with no superior families but Max’s. There was no one who could cast doubt on Tristan’s claims. But in London, there were surely plenty who could do so. And what if someone recognized him from Rubicon’s?
Silence filled the air around them. Tristan tried to ignore the knot in his gut. “I should head back to my own room, before your valet arrives.”
Another sigh from Max. Tristan wished he could see Max’s face, but as it was, the predawn shadows hid all details.
He gave Max’s shoulder a pat. Max took the cue and shifted off to the side. Tristan pushed up and swung his feet over the side of the bed.
“I’ll be back in a few days.”
Tristan nodded.
A hand cupped Tristan’s hip. The warmth of Max’s palm seeped into his skin.
“Tristan?” Max asked, with more than a touch of worry.
“It’s all right. I understand.” In any case, it wasn’t his place to complain. He did not have that right. He’d agreed to give it up for 200 pounds per month. He looked back to Max’s shadowed form. He didn’t bother with a reassuring smile, though he did make the effort to force a bit of lightness into his voice. “Just tired, that’s all. The sun’s not even up yet.”
Max gave his hip a squeeze then his hand slipped away.
Tristan stood, grabbed his clothes from the floor and went back to his room.
* * *
“Expecting anyone?” Max pulled out a chair and sat down.
Rawling looked up from his dinner plate. “Ah, Pelham. Good to see you.”
Max signaled to a servant and placed his order for his meal. The dining room at White’s was not even half-full. A good portion of his peers had departed for their country estates once Parliament had let out, but Rawling hadn’t
been one of them. Yet that evening, he was glad his friend spent most of his time in London. He needed to give Rawling his thanks.
The man was sure to be a smug bastard about it, but Max found he didn’t much care if he had to bear witness to Rawling’s gloating.
“Thank you for looking after London in my absence.” Max took a sip from the glass of wine that had been set at his elbow. “I was pleased to find it still intact.”
Rawling tipped his head. “I am glad my efforts did not go unnoticed. What brings you back in Town?”
“Business. Negotiating the purchase of a new property that’s proving troublesome. Arrived yesterday evening and spent most of today at my solicitors’ office. I am hopeful the details can be finalized in a couple of days.” If the seller persisted in being an inflexible arse and refusing the clauses Max deemed necessary to the contract, then Max would just walk away from the deal. He wanted the property, but not desperately enough to keep him from Arrington Park longer than a few days.
And if he could get back earlier than planned, all the better. One night, and he already missed having Tristan in his bed.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have left. Contrary to Tristan’s assurance, he hadn’t seemed all that pleased, and Max certainly hadn’t wanted to leave. It had been tempting to tell his solicitors not to bother once they encountered resistance, but the property adjourned the one he already had in Somerset. Prime farmland with acres upon acres of woods. The previous owner had refused to sell to Max’s father, and now that the fellow’s son had inherited, the timing was right to make another bid. He owed it to his father to make a full effort to obtain the property.
That full effort involved coming to London. For a few days. But no more. And he’d make up his absence to Tristan when he returned.
“Hopefully you don’t devote all your time to business while in our illustrious city.” Rawling speared a potato and popped it into his mouth.
