by Bonnie Dee
Afterward, they sprawled on the plush rug together, as decadent as Oriental pashas lounging on silk. How sumptuous it would be to have such a carpet in his Paris flat. How much better to have Nigel lying naked on it every night, no other flatmates to disturb them, only the two of them together.
“You must be hungry,” Nigel said at last, sounding regretful to break the intimate mood with such mundane needs as filling his belly.
“We can take food with us into your bedroom,” Jay suggested.
“We’ll eat in bed?” Nigel sounded stupefied, as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing was even possible, not when two proper place settings awaited them at his dining room table.
“Among other things.” Jay waggled his brows suggestively.
“Oh.” Nigel nearly gasped. “With food? But…but it might make a mess of the sheets.”
“And won’t that be wonderful,” Jay declared.
Nigel’s smile was faint but genuine. “I suppose it could be. I have much more to learn, I suspect.” He reached for his trousers.
Jay wasn’t at all sure he wanted to get dressed, or, more specifically, he didn’t want Nigel to cover his body. But just as it took time to tame wild things, it would probably take as much time to coax tame things into being wild after breaking them out of their cages—if it could even be done.
They dressed, though Jay refused to put the shoes and socks back on. Barefoot too, Nigel led him to the dining room. Mrs. Cubbins had set up the meal on a sideboard.
“This might as well be breakfast.” Nigel opened a silver salver and peered into it.
Jay joined him. Next to whatever steamed in the salver was a familiar sight. “Tell me that’s cold steak and kidney pie. Oh Lord, I have missed that.” He ducked around Nigel and grabbed the whole pie in its heavy dish and a fork.
Nigel laughed. “I’d forgotten how you eat.”
Jay had been about to wander out of the room and find the bedroom with his treasure, but now he felt self-conscious. He went to the table and plunked the pie down. He grabbed a knife, cut a big slab of pie and put it on the plate. “Sit, eat,” he told Nigel. “We’ll be civilized for a change.”
Nigel’s face fell. “But it wasn’t criticism, I assure you.”
“No, I know that, Nige.” Jay forced a smile. He wasn’t sure why he should change his careless ways, but it felt as if he must, if only to fit into Nigel’s world for the short time he visited it. He pointed to the place setting of gleaming silver and bone china. “Sit. Eat. But not too much. I have plans for you, and it’s best if you’re not stuffed to the limit.”
Nigel didn’t move. “But you spoke of…” His voice faded.
Apparently he wanted to play with food in the bedroom. Jay grinned. “We’ll take something with us, I promise. Is there a sweet?”
Nigel looked at the board. “Roly-poly pudding. Rather unsophisticated nursery fare, I’m afraid.”
Jay realized he wasn’t the only one who felt uneasy. “Perfect,” he pronounced firmly. “This is exactly the sort of food I’d dream of over in France, while choking down all that garlic and butter.”
They made quick work of the food—but not as fast as Jay would have gobbled the pie on his own. He forced himself to take smaller bites and occasionally pat his lips with the linen napkin. But he couldn’t help assessing what the linen or the dishes or the flatware would fetch at the pawnshop. He’d lived hand-to-mouth too many years not to think of such things.
Nigel finished first.
Jay eyed his friend’s almost full plate. “Nerves or anticipation?” he asked.
Nigel’s smile looked like a grimace. “Both, I should think.”
Jay put down his fork. “Stop worrying. We’ve had an excellent time together. We shan’t do anything you don’t enjoy.”
The smile transformed into the glowing look that made Jay’s heart beat faster.
“Anticipation of pleasure, but nervous that I might disappoint you,” Nigel explained.
“Bah. Impossible.” He pushed back his chair and stood.
The log-shaped pudding was oozing jam and looked sticky. He grabbed the dish. “Lead on,” he ordered Nigel.
Chapter Twelve
Nigel wasn’t used to walking around his house without footwear. He wasn’t used to feeling this level of thrilling arousal in his house either.
He opened the door to his bedroom and waited for Jay to walk in. If only he had something more interesting than the plain, heavy furniture, mostly some sort of dark wood. The room felt gloomy, almost oppressive now that he imagined it through another’s eyes. Other than his servants and, perhaps, rarely, his mother, no one else had ever entered the room.
Jay thumped the bowl with the pudding on the white-and-gray marble top of the bureau. He went to the gaslight already burning and turned it up. Nigel wanted to protest, but he only watched Jay pad about the room, looking at pictures, touching the dark red wall and running a hand over the top of the mirror.
He looked at his palm. “No dust.”
“You sound amazed.”
He grinned at Nigel and moved over to finger the thick drapes. Mrs. Cubbins had recently replaced the thinner curtains to mark the end of summer.
“I love this room,” Jay said at last. “It’s masculine and aesthetically pleasing.”
“Hardly out of the ordinary,” Nigel said.
“Nicely proportioned, good colors and strong.”
Nigel understood at last that he wasn’t talking about the room. “Ah, good,” he said, feeling slow and rather idiotic, unpracticed at this game of double entendres.
Nigel went to the edge of the bed and sat. And then stood, determined to rid himself of this diffidence in his manner. Jay seemed pleased enough. He would forge ahead. He yanked down the coverlet on the bed to expose the sheets, impatiently pulled off his jacket and flung it on the nearest chair. And then the rest of his clothes followed until he was stripped bare for the second time that evening. He climbed onto the bed, thumped the pillows into place and leaned against them to wait.
Jay cheered and clapped—and then ripped off his clothes. He left them in a pile on the floor. Then he bent, fetched something from his trousers and leapt onto the bed. He tossed the object onto the table by the bed.
Nigel gave a snort of surprised laughter when Jay loomed over him, standing on the mattress.
“Fine, fine, I’ll lie down.” With an oof, Jay flopped down next to him.
He reminded Nigel of a child, though Nigel couldn’t recall a time he’d have run about the house with no shoes, or stood on the bed, or eaten with unabashed gusto the way Jay seemed to every day of his life.
“Thank you for being here with me,” Nigel said as Jay wiggled over to stretch out next to him.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
They kissed, soft exploration at first. No clever remarks, no talk at all, merely lazy soft kisses.
And then the kisses grew more heated. Nigel had imagined this for weeks and his imagination had been paltry compared to the reality of Jay, warm and solid, in his house. In his bed.
The hunger grew with every shift of their bodies, every sigh that gusted through them. Jay pushed Nigel onto his back and rolled on top of him. He cupped Nigel’s face, and for a moment, they only gazed at each other. Nigel saw warmth and affection in that gaze, something so intimate he’d never even imagined such a look could be aimed at him. He wanted to cry.
Instead, he pulled Jay down so that his full weight rested on Nigel’s body, such a satisfying delicious heaviness, of both body and that very interesting hard object against his hip.
“Shall I go inside you now?” Jay asked, softly, but it seemed to Nigel as casually as if he were asking Nigel if he wanted milk in his tea.
Nigel could only nod. This was what he’d expected would happen. This was what he understood that men li
ke them would do. Ah, but the muscles in his rear seized tight at the thought…not precisely with fear, but with a sort of nervous anticipatory dread.
“What?” Jay touched his hair, brushed it from his face.
“Well? Aren’t you? Going to?” He pushed his hips up.
To Nigel’s regret and relief, Jay rolled off him onto one side and dragged Nigel with him so they lay face-to-face. “Not when you look like you’re facing a firing squad. Besides, one doesn’t simply go smashing in.”
“No?”
Jay’s arm was slung over his waist, and Nigel became aware of his hand idly circling the small of his back, then sliding down his buttocks.
“No, no, don’t worry,” Jay crooned. He turned away from Nigel and grabbed the thing he’d put on the table next to the bed. He held it up. “Emollient, Merde calls it. I think the word is the same in English?”
Nigel nodded, not sure he could speak.
“It eases the way,” Jay explained.
“Yes, I rather understand that.”
Jay’s smile grew wider. “Would you prefer not to do this, my grouchy friend?”
Nigel recoiled, feeling as if he’d been slapped. “I want nothing more than to have us be as close as humanly possible.”
Jay grabbed Nigel’s hand and opened it. He placed the small bottle into his palm. “Then perhaps you could invade my body.”
God. What a thought. Either option made Nigel feel weak with desire and fear. “Which…which would you rather?”
Jay didn’t answer right away. “I have done both and enjoy both. I’m more often the receiver than the giver.”
“So you don’t mind?”
“Blimey, you fool. I am longing for it.”
Jay stretched out on the bed, facedown, his profile sharp against the white pillow case. “Do what you will.”
The words, the sight of that form on his bed, made Nigel light-headed with longing. He opened the bottle and sniffed. It smelled of some sort of flower. He poured a bit into his palm, and it came out sluggish and thick.
Nigel pushed the stopper back in, put the bottle back on the table and swirled the tiny puddle in his palm with his fingertips.
“I like watching you.” Jay’s glittering eye narrowed as he smiled. “You are so unhurried and…what’s that word? Meticulous. That’s you, and everything you do, except when you’re not.”
“What do I do next?”
“Touch me.” Jay’s light voice had gone gravelly. “Feel my backside and then put your finger inside me.” He pushed up onto his knees but kept his head down. That gorgeous bum thrust invitingly toward Nigel. It filled his vision until it was all he could see, the glorious play of muscles in arse and thigh, and the dark crevice in which lay the target of his lust.
Nigel’s cock twitched with eagerness, and from Jay’s approving hmm, he must have seen.
Suddenly, unhurried and meticulous seemed useless. Nigel needed Jay. He had to put his body as close to Jay as humanly possible. Closer. He rubbed the emollient along the crack between the taut, firm cheeks. There. Right there. His finger went into the impossibly hot and tight opening.
Jay groaned at the same time he did. Before Nigel could ask if he was in pain, Jay pushed back. “That’s perfect. Or nearly perfect.”
Nigel understood and moved into place behind him. His cock glistened with pre-spending and the ointment he’d coated it with, slipping and sliding as he tried to push into Jay’s body.
Smashing in.
He reached down, impatient now, thrusting forward and nearly there.
“Slowly,” Jay whispered, but he pushed back nearly as hard as Nigel was pushing forward.
And then something happened. Nigel lurched a bit, and the pressure increased and he was inside. Bent so his body curved over Jay’s. Inside and deep, and then deeper still until they were perfectly, completely joined together.
Nigel had thought them intimate before. Yes, they had been. But this was beyond even his wildest understanding.
Jay moved the tiniest bit, and Nigel felt it as if it were a buffet of sensation. Heat not only surrounded him but flowed through him. He was alive with fire, a conflagration of need and satisfaction, pleasure and more need and pressure rising, rising… He groaned.
“Mm. You all right?” Jay croaked the words.
“Tight. Hot,” Nigel managed.
“Tight,” Jay gasped. “Slow.”
So he did. He made his motions as careful and painstaking as he could so as not to hurt Jay—while his body screamed at him to move harder and faster. Slowly in, slowly out.
The grip on his cock enveloping him entirely, the feel of Jay’s body curled under his hands, moving restlessly. He was going to lose his mind.
Then he noticed Jay tugging at his own erection. That, even more than the heat on his cock, aroused him.
He reached around to put his hand around Jay’s.
“Good Christ,” Jay growled. “Fuck. Harder.”
Nigel squeezed his hand around Jay’s tighter.
Jay gave a breathless laugh and pushed his bum backward. “This harder too.”
Nigel lost the meticulous care and measured speed. He lost everything in the world but the feel of Jay around him, Jay under his body, under his hands. He pushed deeper and faster. Harder. So hard he would bury himself in Jay, who suddenly cried out and shuddered. He froze, which meant Nigel could pound even harder against the unmoving wall of flesh, which he did, again and again, until he was bowled over by an orgasm. Pleasure struck him, engulfing everything. He shouted his surprise and joy.
He must have lost a second or two after the moment of crisis, because he grew aware that he lay on Jay, his cock still hard but softening.
Jay wiggled under him.
Murmuring an apology, Nigel moved off Jay’s body and collapsed next to him.
“No, don’t say sorry. That was exactly right,” Jay declared. He seemed remarkably energetic as he lay on his side and gathered Nigel in for a hug and a long kiss.
“Exactly right,” Nigel murmured. He pressed his face to Jay’s neck, and an echo of desire rolled through him again. Another kiss or two, and he’d want more. Maybe. Yes. He’d allow Jay to do that to him. Wasn’t that the way these things went with men like them?
But then he realized that Jay’s breathing had slowed. Ah, this he recalled—the pleasure of sleeping with another body, such a sweet one too, close and warm against him. Nigel got out of the bed. He turned off the gas and climbed back in, impatient to feel Jay’s bare skin again.
Chapter Thirteen
Nigel licked his lips, seeking a last smear of jam. He hadn’t used tooth powder this morning before work so that he could continue to savor the taste of sweet fruit and Jay’s salty skin for a while longer. He stared at the ledger on his desk, the satisfying columns of numbers and information that up to now had given shape to his life, and all he could see were flashes of the previous night. Skin, hair, Jay’s rapidly moving chest as he panted with excitement, the clench of fingers on the bedclothes as Nigel licked oh so slowly those streaks of jam from his stomach and his…
Oh, the glories of that thick, rigid cock alone were sufficient to distract Nigel from his work for several minutes. He recalled every blue vein beneath the pale, sleek skin. The soft cowl of foreskin and the reddish-purple head that protruded from it like some exotic flower. The scent of musk when he leaned close and the taste on his tongue as he took that first lick, and… Nigel groaned, recalling the hedonistic bliss of smearing that innocent sweet treat of his youth—roly-poly pudding—on Jay’s erection and then sucking off the raspberry jam. It seemed so immoral and wrong and exactly like something one of Jay’s Parisian crowd would do.
Good God, he was humming under his breath as he sat at his desk. Nigel stopped the nervous noise and glanced at the other occupant of his office, Reginald Porter. Re
ggie was completely focused on filling out paperwork and had apparently not noticed either Nigel’s quiet groan or his humming. If the man only knew the visions dancing in Nigel’s mind, he’d bolt from the office screaming, aghast at such depravities.
For depraved was the only word to describe such actions, wasn’t it? Shame and guilt over the perversions he’d accomplished with Jay all night long swirled under the surface of Nigel’s glut of delight. If he allowed it, those guilty feelings would rise up and take over, guiding him back onto the path of honor and righteousness. Everyone knew that sodomy was against God’s will, and yet… And yet, Nigel couldn’t bring himself to give a damn or to allow any uncomfortable feelings about his behavior to ruin his memories. What he’d done with Jay had felt good, wonderful, joyful, and better than anything he’d experienced in his life before. A loving God wouldn’t smite a man for finding true happiness, would He?
Nigel stifled a yawn and glanced up at the small window. Drapes were drawn to shield them from the heat of the sun, but the material also shut out any fresh breeze. Suddenly Nigel felt like an animal forced to spend its life in a cage. At the very least, he deserved to see a little sunlight. He rose from his chair and went to pull back the curtains. This was enough to finally draw Reggie Porter’s attention.
Pink-rimmed eyes behind round spectacles gazed worriedly at the window. “What are you doing?”
“Letting a little bit of the day in. Does it ever occur to you that we spend almost our entire life indoors? It’s unnatural.”
“Um.” Porter gripped his pencil, creases blooming between his pale eyebrows. He scratched his thatch of equally pale blond hair. “But the drapes are supposed to be drawn to prevent the carpet fading.”
“Mr. Porter, do you really care if the carpet fades? We deserve a little sunlight as we work.” Nigel sighed as Porter continued to look fretful. “Don’t worry. If Mr. Turner comes in, I’ll take the blame.”
Nigel resumed his seat and focused his attention on his addition. He accomplished at least a quarter hour’s worth of work before thoughts of last night began to bleed back into his consciousness. This time it wasn’t the intimacy of sex he recalled but how he’d slept for a few hours resting in Jay’s arms and woken up before dawn flipped the other way, holding Jay. How warm and comforting to sleep with another person. He’d hated having to shake Jay awake and send him to the guest bedroom before any of the servants arrived, but Cook came at the crack of dawn to prepare Nigel a hot breakfast before work.
