by Merry Farmer
Morton and his friends wandered slowly off the stage, laughing and shoving each other, completely oblivious to the deeper drama happening right next to them.
Blake did a poor job of concealing his expectation as he climbed onto the stage, forgoing the stairs in favor of looking athletic, staring heavily at Niall as he did. Niall couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he went to retrieve his script before taking the stairs onto the stage. He stole only furtive glances at Blake, not trusting himself to spend any more than a fraction of a second looking at him. He’d give them both away if he did.
As it was, he didn’t do a good enough job of acting to fool everyone.
“Is there something between you and Stanley?” Paul murmured to him as he helped Niall rearrange the furniture on the stage that was standing in as set pieces.
“No,” Niall answered, a little too quickly and too vehemently. He laughed nervously, intending to cover his slip, but likely only making things worse. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s just that the sparks between you are palpable,” Paul continued with a teasing grin, speaking low enough that no one would overhear.
“They are not,” Niall argued. When Paul’s expression turned flat and doubtful, Niall rushed on. “We’re playing opposite each other. That’s all. Blake is a brilliant actor. If you’re sensing anything at all, it’s acting. There’s no need to go blurring the lines between what’s real and what’s imaginary.”
“If you say so.” Paul clearly didn’t believe a damn thing Niall said.
Niall shook his head, wondering if he could end up believing it himself if he tried hard enough. It would be safer for everyone if every fiber of his body didn’t long for Blake, if he didn’t want to abandon rehearsal to drag Blake back to his flat so that he could show him the sort of pleasure two men could really feel with each other. He was hungry for the unfettered sounds Blake had made the night before, and he wanted more of them. They were the best music Blake could possibly make.
“Let’s start from the beginning of Reinhold and Hilda’s scene,” he said, taking charge with a confidence he hadn’t felt since rehearsals started. “Right before Greta interrupts them.”
That night, he took pen to paper with more enthusiasm than he ever had in his life.
“Dearest B. You cannot imagine the joy that filled me when I read your letter earlier. Feeling passion is one thing, but knowing that passion is returned, however exciting and unnerving it might be, is pure bliss. And pure bliss is what I want to make you feel in every way.
“I want to kiss you until you sigh my name aloud, until you can’t think of anything but my mouth on you. I want to explore every inch of your body, drive you mad with arousal like you’ve never experienced before. I want to teach you things that you’ve only ever dreamed of, like the pleasure there is to be had in having your earlobes nibbled or your nipples licked. I want to leave marks on the tender flesh of your inner thighs that only you and I will know about. I want to suck your balls and tease your arsehole until you’re so mad with desire that you burst. I want to be the one to open you up for the first time and feel your breathless pants as you learn what it feels like to be filled.
“And then I want to lie, tangled and sweaty, with you, whispering secrets and laughing over nothing deep into the night. I want to share my heart and my dreams with you and hear everything you want to say to me in return. I want us to have secrets that no one else could possibly guess at, our own little world that no one else can touch. Say you want these things too, and I will move heaven and earth to give them to you. Yours eternally, N.”
Chapter 7
The letters continued for weeks, though a few of the dozens stood out in particular….
“My Darling N. There is nothing that I want more than to unravel the mysteries of the love that dare not speak its name with you. I don’t know if you are aware of how beautiful and desirable you are. There is a grace in the way you move that makes me hungry for you. The spark of intelligence in your eyes captivates me. I am fascinated by your neck, of all things, and want to kiss and bite it. I had only a glimpse of what it would feel like to explore your body with my hands the other night, but I want more. I want to learn every inch of you, discover what makes you shiver and sigh. I want your scent on my sheets and your laughter in my heart.
“There. I can write as beautifully as you when I put my mind to it. Though I’m certain it took me ten times as long to compose those words as it does for you to write the same to me. Don’t ever stop writing your beautiful words for me. They are like sweet tarts that melt in my mouth—as I hope you will someday soon—and fill me with happiness, which is especially important as it’s been so impossible for us to find time alone together. I have never cursed my schooling and social schedule so much in my life.
“I’m sorry for pretending to ignore you at Professor Carroll’s study group earlier. I panicked when John Dandie hinted that there might be anything other than friendship and a professional relationship between the two of us. And then I saw Ian fawning all over you yet again, and jealousy got the better of me. I know there could never be anything between you and Ian. He’s not like us, and he has his heart set on wooing Miss Cannon. But seeing you give even the slightest bit of attention to another man strikes a dark chord in me that I’m still confused by.
“We’ll sort this out soon, I’m certain. Until then, I count the minutes until our next rehearsal, and I may just have to relieve myself while thinking of you after sending this letter off. Yours in passion, B.”
“Dearest B. Forgive me for laughing over the idea of you being jealous of Ian, or any other man, where I am concerned. You can rest assured knowing there is no one else who has captivated my heart or who I want as desperately as I want you. I’m the one who should be jealous after seeing you accompanying Miss Cannon at the musicale Lady Fairport hosted this evening. Everyone was captivated by your playing, especially Miss Cannon. The way she smiled at you and flirted is everything I wish I could do publically, but we both know how impossible that would be.
“Your voice truly is the most sensual thing I’ve ever heard. There is a trueness and a resonance to it that goes straight to my soul…and other areas that are unmentionable and inconvenient in public. I could listen to you sing all day. I could listen to you sigh with pleasure and moan with bliss and call out my name as you come too. You have no idea how wicked it makes me feel to imagine all of the things I plan to introduce you to as soon as possible to cause those delicious sounds. You won’t be able to think of anything or anyone else for the rest of your days.
“I have to admit, it’s become rather fun in this last week to pretend there is nothing but professional courtesy and platonic friendship between us. It almost makes up for our utter lack of ability to sneak off together for more than a handful of minutes. Stealing looks is as entertaining as stealing kisses. Though we really should be more careful. We were so nearly caught with our mouths plastered together this afternoon that I couldn’t stop shaking for a good half hour after we went our separate ways. I long for us to finally find an evening when neither of us has other obligations so that we might take this where it has been heading all along.
“Until then, I think of you constantly, I dream of you, and I abuse myself mercilessly while imagining what I plan to do to you. Deliciously, N.”
“Beloved N. We are most certainly going to end up in a sticky situation if we can’t find a night to spend together soon. And I mean that in every way you can imagine. My laundress gave me a funny look the other day as I requested clean sheets for the fourth time in one week. And I’m relatively certain Gregory was smirking at the state of my trousers in rehearsal today. I’m afraid if we don’t find satisfaction soon, the fire between us will spill over and our secret will be revealed.
“To that end, I’ve canceled my plans to dine with the Archibalds and Cannons yet again tomorrow night. Three times in less than a fortnight is more than enough, if you ask me. Mrs. Cannon is an abso
lute delight, but I’m not sure I like the way Annamarie has been sizing me—or rather, my title—up like a piece of meat. Or the way Ian has taken to glaring at me, like I’ve snatched away his toy.
“The only person I want eyeing me like a piece of meat is you. The way you look at me drives me mad with desire. Every time I catch you with the same look in your eyes as you wore before sinking to your knees on that glorious night weeks ago, my blood runs hot. I want you on your knees again, and I want to do the same to you. My mouth waters thinking about the possibility. I want the full experience of loving you and being loved in return.
“Tomorrow evening, after the exam. We’ll make some excuse to go off to supper together. I could even have food waiting at my flat, though it won’t be what I want to eat first. Say you’ll be with me and we can be together the way I’ve wanted for so long, the way we should be for eternity. Carnally, B.”
Niall could hardly sit still for the duration of the Classics exam. He couldn’t concentrate on the words on the page Professor Carroll had given to each of them. Writing was most definitely his talent, but every word that dripped from his pen as he vainly attempted to conjugate Latin verbs and write essays on Aeschylus felt stupid. He bobbed his leg up and down rapidly to expend some of his pent-up energy, but his thoughts would only go in one direction.
Blake had cleared the way for the two of them to be together that night.
He glanced up from his examination paper, knowing the whole thing was a lost cause, and peeked sideways. Blake had casually taken a seat at the desk beside his for the exam. They’d exchanged banal pleasantries before Professor Carroll delivered the exam, chatting about the play with John and David, and Ian. Not a soul would have had the first clue where he and Blake intended to end their day by anything in their behavior, although Niall had had to force himself not to look directly at Blake through the entire conversation.
He looked now. Blake was the picture of perfection with his face screwed up in concentration. His shoulders were hunched slightly and his mouth was pressed in a firm line as he scribbled away on the sheet in front of him. His lithe hand flew like the wind, making Niall marvel at the man’s powers of concentration. Niall couldn’t wait to feel those hands on his skin, to brush his own fingers through Blake’s thick hair, to kiss his lips until they softened and parted with a moan of pleasure.
A sharp hiss on Niall’s other side snapped him out of his increasingly carnal thoughts. He shifted to peek at Ian, who scowled at his exam paper as though it were a mortal enemy. Ian had bragged about scoring highest marks on the exam and winning the prize. Niall doubted the Egyptian medallion was worth a fraction of the amount Ian seemed to think it was, but he was well aware of the pride involved in winning. The medallion was a symbol of superiority that Ian was determined to claim.
“Eyes on your own exams, gentlemen,” Professor Carroll scolded at the front of the room.
Niall sucked in a breath and focused on his own work once more. The jolt of being called out—if Professor Carroll was, indeed, singling him out or if others were engaged in the same curiosity—was enough to push Niall through the rest of the examination time. When Professor Carroll finally ordered them to put their pens down, Niall was satisfied that he hadn’t completely embarrassed himself. He’d done all right. But the exam was the very last thing he cared about.
“Good old Carroll was trying to fool us with those irregular Greek verbs,” Ian boasted as they all gathered their books and satchels and headed to the hall once the exam papers were collected. “I’m certain I translated every one of them perfectly, though.”
“Then congratulations are in order,” Blake told him with a smile that Niall would have sworn was genuine, if he didn’t know better.
Niall and Blake walked shoulder to shoulder down the crowded hallway, brushing up against each other every few steps as they dodged fellow students exiting their exams or rushing off to study sessions. John and David kept their distance, several strides behind. The two knew full well what Niall and Blake had been up to for the past few weeks, and Niall suspected they found it hilarious. Just to show them, Niall kept as close to Blake as possible, risking exposure by touching Blake however he could. It would have been a perfect overture to what Niall knew was coming if Ian hadn’t tagged along with them, keeping up at Niall’s other side.
“I thought it was devilishly clever of Carroll to include those questions about Thebes as well,” Ian blathered on, strutting like a peacock and smirking at Blake, as though Blake couldn’t possibly have been ready for the questions. “I’m glad I thought to reread the papers Carroll published about his excavation last year.”
“They were far more useful than I expected,” Blake agreed.
Ian looked momentarily crestfallen. “You read them too?”
Niall fought to hide his grin as Blake shrugged and said, “Of course. Anyone with any sense reads the papers a professor has written before sitting an exam for a prize he’s offering.”
Blake looked so cool and calm as he spoke that Niall’s heart bounced around his chest. Not only was he handsome and clever and a beautiful singer, Blake could tease a clod like Ian and come off sounding magnanimous.
“I’m certain you’ll tell Miss Cannon all about it at supper this evening,” Ian grumbled as they passed through the main doorway and out into the unseasonably warm spring day. The sun was shining as it dipped toward the horizon, the roses that had been planted just outside of the building filled the air with gorgeous scent, and everything was green and fresh.
And Blake made it all a thousand times better by saying, “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make it to supper this evening. I’ve already sent a note to your mother.”
Ian scowled for half a second before his expression brightened to something akin to joy. “You won’t be there?”
“No,” Blake said. “Other plans.” His hand subtly brushed Niall’s, though there was no way Ian could have seen it.
Niall nearly missed a step as his heart thumped and his body heated.
“That’s a shame,” Ian said, sounding as though it were anything but. “I guess I’ll have Miss Cannon all to myself then.”
“Looks like you will.” Blake smiled at Niall, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Your loss,” Ian snorted. “You know she and I have been getting particularly close lately.”
“I’m happy for you,” Blake said genuinely.
Ian narrowed his eyes slightly. “She’s almost as much of a prize as Professor Carroll’s medallion, you know.”
“So I’ve been told. And I’m certain you’ll win both.” Blake nodded to him, then veered slightly to the right, where a path cut through two of the university’s main buildings and headed off campus. “Best of luck to you,” he said to Ian. “And Niall, I have a question about the days we’re rehearsing next week. Walk with me?”
“Certainly,” Niall said, playing his part and looking surprised by the invitation.
Ian frowned and walked on. There wasn’t a shred of suspicion in his expression. Niall was certain he and Blake were about to get away with everything.
Blake picked up his pace once they were away from the center of campus. “I almost feel sorry for Ian,” he said in a low voice, darting a glance this way and that to assess whether anyone was paying any attention to them. “He wants to win the medallion and marry Miss Cannon so badly it’s alarming.”
“I know what it’s like to want things so badly it’s alarming,” Niall murmured, unable to keep the grin off his face.
“So do I.” Blake lowered his voice to a near whisper.
He grabbed Niall’s hand and launched into a run. Niall gasped and then laughed as he stumbled forward, clutching his satchel so it wouldn’t fall off his shoulder, and matching Blake’s pace. They must have looked like two children dashing along the path, past the cricket pitch, and through the gate that separated the university from the rest of the town. Niall couldn’t stop giggling as they ducked and dodged t
heir way around townspeople going about their business or heading home from busy days at work.
He thanked God that Blake’s flat was only a handful of blocks from the university. They mounted the stairs to the second floor two at a time, and by the time Blake unlocked his door and grabbed Niall by his necktie to pull him inside, they were already red-faced, sweating, and out of breath.
Blake threw his satchel off his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor as Niall did the same, closed and locked his door, then spun to launch himself at Niall. Their bodies met in an awkward crash as Blake grabbed Niall’s face and their mouths collided. Niall groaned deep in his throat, though the sound came out high-pitched and needy, and stumbled backward with the momentum Blake had started. He kept reeling back until his calves hit the edge of Blake’s sofa and they tumbled clumsily across it, but Blake kept kissing his lips, his cheeks, and his neck.
“I want you,” Blake growled, nipping at Niall’s earlobe as if he knew what he was doing, which Niall suspected he didn’t really. “I’ve wanted you more and more with every letter you sent me. I’ve saved every one and read them all dozens of times. I want everything you described in those letters and more.”
Niall blinked and laughed and panted as Blake tore at the buttons of his jacket while kissing and licking his neck, as he’d said he wanted to do in his letters. “Everything?” he managed to say as he gripped the back and side of the sofa for purchase. “I’ll give you everything and then some.”
“Good.” Blake lifted himself above Niall enough to push at his jacket and waistcoat as though he wanted them gone, then sat up to remove his own jacket. His heated gaze remained fixed on Niall the entire time as he shrugged out of his coat and loosened his tie. “I’ve been dreaming about being naked and sweaty with you for over a fortnight now.”
Niall sighed unsteadily as he toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his cuffs. “I’m tired of just imagining what you look like naked,” he said, feeling bolder and fiercer with each passing second.
