by Merry Farmer
“Perhaps Professor Carroll would let us take the exam together as one,” Niall said with a strained laugh.
“Wouldn’t that be nice.” Blake laughed along with him.
His gaze lingered on Niall for far longer than it should have, his hazel eyes seeming to glow with fondness as he studied Niall. There was something about Blake’s scrutiny that made the hair on the back of Niall’s neck stand up, as though Blake were trying to figure out what he made of Niall and hadn’t quite come to a conclusion. In fact, if Niall wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of strain beneath the warmth in Blake’s look, something akin to worry.
Niall blinked and sucked in a shallow breath. Blake wasn’t afraid that he’d attack him or behave inappropriately, was he? Who he was and what he preferred wasn’t exactly a secret at the university. Niall had enough of a standing among his fellow students and society that his nature was largely ignored, but there were always one or two people who treated him as though he were a rabid dog just pretending to be tame.
“I bought wine,” Blake blurted after the silence dragged on for a painfully long time. He snatched up the bottle on the table, which looked to have already been opened. “It’s good wine too, French wine. Burgundy is my favorite, but this is a tasty merlot that I think you’ll like.” He poured gracelessly into the two glasses waiting on the table, splashing a bit of red onto the crisp, white tablecloth that Niall had only just noticed, in a way that would stain it irreparably.
“I’m not choosy when it comes to wine,” Niall said, alarmed at how gruff his voice sounded. “Spirits, on the other hand, I’m extraordinarily particular about. I’ve tried my hand at mixing a few original concoctions now and then, and I’ve gotten quite good at it.”
Now he was the one rambling. Niall wanted to roll his eyes at himself. At the rate they were going, they wouldn’t study at all. They’d just sit there acting like boobs. And unless Niall worked up the nerve to ask a few pointed questions, he would never be able to determine just what Blake was and how he felt about him.
“Right,” Blake said after taking a long swig of his wine and opening his Latin book. “There’s no telling what might come up.” He paused, his eyes shining. “On the exam.” He cleared his throat. “So we should start with languages. I know Professor Carroll is a stickler for conjugations.”
“Aren’t we all sticklers for conjugations?” Niall said with a wry grin, then hid the lame attempt at a joke by downing half of his wine in a few gulps. He had the distinct feeling he was going to need it to get through the night, and he hoped Blake had more stowed away somewhere.
Latin proved to be more of a distraction than he would have accounted for. As soon as they began studying in earnest, Blake grew incredibly serious about academia. It didn’t take Niall long to realize that, as intelligent as he knew he was, he was outmatched by Blake’s intellect. But as the study session progressed, Niall began to notice that Blake’s attention was easily scattered.
“That’s odd,” he said with a pinched grin as they reviewed the plot and key motifs of The Iliad. “Did you get your inspiration for Siegfried and Greta from Homer?” He leaned forward slightly, reaching for the wine bottle to pour himself a second glass.
Niall glanced from Blake’s hand on the bottle to the nervous shine in Blake’s eyes to his reddened lips, then back to his eyes. “Classic literature is full of tales of women who have been stolen from someone or another and given to men who don’t deserve them to serve as wives and concubines.”
“Concubines.” Blake chuckled. “That’s a fun word. It implies all of the fun and none of the commitment.”
Niall arched one eyebrow, wondering if one glass of wine had been enough to make Blake drunk or if he was babbling because he was nervous. “You don’t like commitment?” he asked.
Blake’s face pinched as though he’d said something wrong. “I adore the idea of commitment.” He glanced briefly to Niall once he finished pouring, but didn’t seem to be able to hold his gaze. “It must be wonderful to find someone who you want to spend the rest of your life with, grow old with, experience the joys and sorrows of life with. Who wouldn’t want to commit to something like that?”
He took a long drink from his refreshed glass. Niall watched him, sensing something was wrong. His heart beat faster. There were far more facets to being the sort of man he was than deciding who to go to bed with. If Blake really was like him, commitment, even on an emotional level, could be a serious problem.
As if Blake could read Niall’s thoughts, he rushed on with, “The trouble is who one is expected to spend the rest of his life with. From where I’m sitting, the rest of my life seems like a very long time.” He met Niall’s eyes with a devastating seriousness. Niall read his expression as the proof he was looking for that Blake wanted him. Until he turned around and said, “As a student, of course. And as a future duke. I’ll be extraordinarily lucky if I’m allowed to choose my own wife.” He punctuated his comment by taking a long drink—or rather, by lifting his wineglass to his mouth in a way that hid his face.
Niall watched him intently for a few more seconds before sighing and saying, “I’m not sure that being a concubine was as fun as you make it out to be. None of those poor girls had any more choice in the matter than you do. It’s astounding how little choice we actually have in whom we love.” He fixed Blake with a gaze meant to bore into his soul. Come hell or high water, he was going to determine Blake’s nature by the end of the evening, even if it killed him.
“You’re right about that,” Blake said, avoiding looking directly at him. He finished half his glass of wine and put the glass on the table with a sigh, then clapped both hands to the table top. “Enough of these dusty old classics. I don’t think I can sit at this table for another second. Why don’t we take this opportunity to run lines for your play instead?”
Niall’s brow shot up, and he watched as Blake leapt restlessly out of his chair and paced across the room to fetch his script. “If that’s what you want to do,” he said, rising slowly, then pushing his chair in.
“Do you have a copy of the script?” Blake asked, retrieving his and flipping through its dog-eared pages.
Niall grinned. “I wrote it. I know it by heart.”
“All of it?” Blake’s expression brightened as he and Niall met in the center of the room in front of a comfortable-looking sofa with spindly tables at each end.
“All of it,” Niall laughed. “Although, to be fair, that’s probably also because I’ve been directing the production myself and starring in it as well.”
“Do you have ambitions of being a director once you make your scintillating debut on the London stage?” Blake asked mischievously.
“Not if I can help it,” Niall answered. “I’m much better suited to squirreling myself away in a tidy flat, scribbling and bringing new ideas and new worlds to life.”
“If anybody can do it, you can.”
Blake stopped rifling through his script for a moment and let his shoulders drop as he smiled at Niall. There was an unmistakable fondness between them, a camaraderie that Niall had never experienced with anyone. Blake was wildly different from him in so many ways. He was a sun to Niall’s moon. He was exuberance and charm, whereas Niall was cleverness and ambition. But underneath that, Niall felt as though somehow their souls matched.
Blake cleared his throat, then said, “Where do you want to start?” in a rough voice.
Niall shrugged, pretending the electric charge between them wasn’t about to set the room on fire. “Wherever you feel you need the most rehearsing.”
Blake nodded, grinned, and took a small step back, focusing on the script again. “I’m good with memorization, so I think I have most of it down already. Of course, since I started at the beginning, I’m less certain about the end.”
“Then let’s work on the final scene,” Niall said.
“Right.” Blake nodded, leafing through to the back of the script. “Perfect. Siegfried has vanquished his rivals and w
on Greta’s admiration.”
“My heart rejoices to be the bride of such a valiant and noble prince,” Niall recited the line, raising the timbre of his voice for the woman’s part.
“And mine to be a bridegroom as well as a prince now,” Blake said, speaking the line first, then checking the page to make certain he’d said it right. He inched closer to Niall. The spark between them seemed to grow. At least, until Blake cleared his throat and rocked back to deliver the next line. “Reinhold, I was wrong to censure you for stealing a bride for me.” He pointed to the spot where Ian would have been standing if they were on a stage. “You will be showered with riches and honors for your part in this.”
“And you will have my eternal gratitude,” Niall said, studying Blake carefully. He was still anxious, still restless.
He moved closer to Niall, lowering his script and gazing deep into Niall’s eyes as he said, “Come, my darling. Let us celebrate our union instead of denying it. Let all the kingdom celebrate with us.”
Niall’s breath caught in his chest. If ever there were a way to prove definitively how Blake felt about him, this was it. He thanked God that his earlier self had written the next bit of the play the way he had, then recited, “My lord and my master,” then took a huge stride forward that brought him right up against Blake.
The action of the script called for a kiss. Heart in his throat, Niall obeyed his own stage direction to the letter. He clasped either side of Blake’s face and slanted his mouth over Blake’s with all the daring he could muster.
For one, terrifying moment, Niall thought everything he’d guessed about Blake was dead wrong. Blake went rigid, sucking in a breath as Niall kissed him with the full force of the desire that had been building in him since the moment he’d first clapped eyes on him. He felt a shudder run through Blake, heard his script drop to the floor. Blake’s lips were soft beneath his, but remained firmly closed.
Niall pulled back, shame burning in his cheeks and disappointment feeling like it would grind him to a pulp. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, letting his hands drop. “I—”
Before he could get another word out, Blake sucked in a sharp breath and launched toward him. He clasped the sides of Niall’s head and brought his mouth crashing over his in a kiss that startled Niall and robbed him of all sense. Better still, Blake groaned deep in his throat as he kissed Niall furiously, as though his emotions were so intense that he couldn’t keep them in check for another second.
“Niall,” Blake sighed, kissing him harder. He brushed his tongue along the seam of Niall’s lips until they parted, then slipped inside to taste Niall with an even deeper sigh.
As soon as Niall realized his arms were flailing uselessly in shock at the intensity of the kiss, he reached for Blake, embracing him and digging his fingertips into the broad plane of his back. “Yes,” he sighed before he could stop himself, then returned Blake’s kiss passionately to hide the madness that was rising up to consume him.
Blake clasped Niall close in turn, the heat of his body sizzling against Niall’s. Blake’s breath came in sharp, shallow gasps as he alternated between kissing Niall’s lips and brushing his lips and teeth along Niall’s jaw. He kissed his way to Niall’s neck as well, leaning into him so forcefully that Niall stumbled backward. He backpedaled all the way into the piano, sitting hard on the keys and causing a riot of discordant sound.
Blake laughed breathlessly at that as he pushed Niall’s unbuttoned jacket off of his shoulders. His hands fumbled with the buttons of Niall’s waistcoat a moment later, then tugged the hem of Niall’s shirt out of his trousers. Niall was certain he had died and gone to heaven as Blake’s dexterous hands spread across the bare skin of his sides.
It was proof that Blake wanted him and more, and it made Niall bolder than he’d ever dreamed he would be. He mirrored Blake’s actions, pulling his shirt up so that he could touch Blake’s sides and stomach. He wanted so much more than that, though, and fumbled with the fastenings of Blake’s trousers.
Blake gasped audibly as Niall reached in to stroke his already hard cock. Feeling how hot and alive and thick Blake was had Niall’s own prick jerking to be freed in his trousers. He explored Blake fully, hungry beyond measure, cupping his balls and learning everything he could about how Blake felt and reacted to his touch. The slickness of pre-cum at Blake’s tip said more than words ever could about how ready Blake was for everything Niall wanted from him.
And he wanted everything.
He somehow found the strength to push against Blake, flipping their positions so that Blake sat hard against the piano keys with another discordant blast. Niall leaned into him, making quick work of the fastenings of his own trousers, then guiding Blake to handle him. Blake complied eagerly and breathlessly, nearly sending Niall over the edge with the first stroke. It felt so unbelievably good to have Blake’s hand on him, exploring the way he’d just done, that Niall whimpered at the sensation.
He wasn’t going to last, but somehow that only spurred him on. He kissed Blake mercilessly as the pressure built within him. Their open mouths were hungry for each other, but better still, Blake seemed hell-bent on making Niall come. His touch felt so good that Niall wouldn’t have been able to stop himself if he’d tried. He came with a shattering force, moaning into Blake’s mouth in the middle of a kiss and spilling into his hand. Blake gasped, his eyes going wide for a moment.
Those gorgeous eyes narrowed with hazy passion, then closed entirely as Niall sank to his knees. He might have been loose and dazed after coming, but he wasn’t done yet. He drew Blake’s trousers down to his thighs, then took his thick, hard cock in hand, positioning it how he wanted it. And he wanted it desperately. He kissed and licked the slickness from Blake’s head before unapologetically drawing the whole thing into his mouth.
Blake groaned with pleasure and gripped the edge of the piano hard, sending more discordant notes soaring. Niall reveled in the intensity of Blake’s pleasure and abandoned any semblance of politeness or decorum to suck him like there was no tomorrow. He loved every second of it, even though Blake’s size took some getting used to. His own discomfort was nothing to the desperate pants and sounds Blake made. Niall made merciless use of his tongue and moaned himself as he sent Blake rocketing toward the edge. Blake came with a profane cry as Niall swallowed him reflexively.
It was all so good that once it was over, Niall rested his forehead against the firm muscles of Blake’s abdomen as he caught his breath. The scent of musk and salt filled his senses. Blake’s skin was hot and damp under his hands where they rested on his hips. For a moment, neither of them moved as they gasped and fought to regain their wits. The only thing that stopped Niall from kissing his way up Blake’s belly and chest to capture his lips again was the dawning awareness that, even post-orgasm, Blake was as tense as a tiger.
That realization caused him to lean back and glance up at him. Where Niall hoped to find a look of sated adoration, Blake looked horrified. Niall swallowed tightly and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He was already taller than Blake by a bit, but with Blake seated on the piano keys, he almost towered above him.
“It’s all right,” he panted, caressing Blake’s face with both hands. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
Blake continued to breathe shallowly, staring at Niall as though the world had just come to an end. Anxiety swirled through Niall, killing all of the satisfaction of the moment. He studied Blake with a wary heart, praying he hadn’t just ruined everything. But no, the storm of emotion in Blake’s eyes wasn’t terror over being attacked by someone who had forced him to do something against his will. The fear went much deeper than that.
“It’s all right,” Niall repeated, brushing his fingers through Blake’s hair, his heart breaking for the confusion Blake must have been feeling. Without needing to be told, Niall could guess that he’d just opened Pandora’s Box for Blake. “You’re going to be all right.”
He leaned in, kissing Blake softly, his heart feeling too
big and too full for his chest. His adoration for Blake had reached a whole new level. He wasn’t the hopeful supplicant, begging for a piece of Blake’s affection anymore. He was the one with more experience who needed to guide a lost soul through the darkness and into the light.
But as soon as he rocked back to check how Blake was feeling, Blake cleared his throat and said, “I think you should go,” in a hoarse voice.
Niall jerked back, stung. Blake’s gaze dropped below Niall’s waist, where his half-erect cock was still on full view. Something about the look was accusatory, so Niall returned it by staring blatantly at Blake’s prick. The sight of it only filled him with longing and uncertainty, though. He took another step back and fastened his trousers, tucking his shirt in. What should have felt like a moment of victory and closeness had turned into an even worse sort of uncertainty than anything Niall had felt before.
“I’ll go,” he said, turning away. He moved to fetch his things.
“I don’t mean to be—” Blake started, but didn’t finish.
Niall buttoned his waistcoat and jacket, then shoved his school books into his satchel and slung it over his arm. By the time he turned back to Blake, Blake had straightened himself and sat on the piano bench, which he’d pulled out from where it’d been tucked, staring at the damp spot on the cuff of his shirtsleeve. Niall’s face flared hot, knowing he’d caused the dampness.
He wanted to say something, wanted to soothe Blake and make everything all right again. He also wanted to shout at Blake for being blind to his own desires. He couldn’t form words to express either thought, though, so he did the only thing he could do and left.
Only when he was outside in the cool, spring air, striding fast across the university’s campus on the way to his lonely dormitory room, did the guilt set in. He should have talked with Blake first. He should have been brave enough to ask outright what Blake wanted instead of pushing things. The farther away from Blake he got, the more acute his guilt.
