by Jamie Craig
He used his tongue more than his lips, keeping the suction tight around his shaft so that all the sensations came from the licking up, down, around, across the tip and back again. Every time he sucked another inch into the hot recesses of his mouth, Micah’s breath flared, sending tiny ripples across the surface of the water that tickled on Jefferson’s belly. It was maddening. It was already more than he had thought Micah would be ready for, but even so, it tottered on the edge of true bliss by the young man’s refusal to do more than use his tongue.
Jefferson finally broke. Reaching down, he curled his hand through the wet hair at Micah’s nape and tugged, forcing him to suck back up to the dripping slit.
Micah didn’t resist Jefferson’s attempt to guide him. He was entirely pliable, obviously willing to follow any of Jefferson’s silent requests. But Jefferson did not need to test how far he was willing to go. With a firm yet gentle touch, Jefferson eased him down his prick, then up to the head again, then back down. Jefferson never tried to push the length farther down Micah’s throat. He didn’t need to. Just the friction of Micah’s lips and the slow glide of his tongue was enough to drive him out of his mind.
Within a few strokes, Micah moved on his own, sinking down to the edge of his hand before sucking back up. His greed was almost as great as Jefferson’s, small sounds coming from his throat every time his tongue caught fluid welling at the slit. He squirmed and fidgeted, and even as lost as he was in the coils winding through his groin, Jefferson wondered just how hard Micah was, if he was imagining allowing Jefferson the same luxury, or if he dreamed of taking him inside his tight passage again.
The thought made Jefferson groan, and he inadvertently thrust forward, as if pushing past that hot flesh.
Micah lost his grip on his erection, but instead of seeking it out again, he found the tight sac already pulling into Jefferson’s body. When he pushed almost roughly against it, Jefferson became unbound.
Water splashed as his hand shot out to grip the back of Micah’s head. He held him still as he pumped once, twice, before his release shattered through him, his seed spilling onto Micah’s tongue. The constriction of Micah’s swallowing only intensified the pleasure, and Jefferson thrashed within the tub as he shot again and again.
Jefferson’s prick slipped from Micah’s mouth, smearing a bit of fluid over his lips and down his chin. Jefferson ran his thumb over his skin, collecting the liquid, and brought it to his own mouth, wishing he was tasting Micah instead. He planted his feet firmly against the bottom of the tub and stood. “I’ve got to take you to bed now.”
Micah rose as well, his erection nudging Jefferson’s hip. “Only if you’re feeling stronger.”
Jefferson stepped out of the tub, then took Micah’s hand and helped him over the edge. “I’m feeling much stronger. You must be some kind of miracle worker.” Jefferson smiled, pulling Micah towards the bedroom. “And I am desperate to show you exactly what sort of miracle I’m talking about.”
Chapter 17
Micah had never imagined pleasuring somebody else, coaxing responses from his flesh without taking anything in return, could be so utterly satisfying. He had been eager to attempt Becky’s methods ever since coming to Wroxham, and he most certainly believed he’d try that long before any sort of penetration. But the feel of Jefferson’s smooth prick sliding over his lips, the slight tang of his spendings, the groans and cries of abandon Jefferson could not contain…they elicited a tightening inside Micah’s gut, drew his skin into a hot sheath that felt as if it would split at the first provocation. Even now, following Jefferson into the bedroom, his mouth watered to take Jefferson back inside, but he suspected Jefferson had other intentions in mind.
Jefferson released his hand to light the lamp, allowing Micah’s gaze to drift to the bed. “I suppose commissioning a larger bedstead as well as the desk would appear odd to others,” Micah said.
“Yes, it would. But we can get a second bed and push them together, I suppose.” The golden light caught on Jefferson’s skin and was reflected by the drops of water still clinging to his legs. Jefferson set the lamp on the table then reached for Micah’s hand again. “How would you be comfortable? I could be on my knees, or lying beside you, or even on my back…”
There were too many choices; Micah’s head whirled. “Tell me which will please you as much as it does me.”
Jefferson led him to the bed and sat on the edge. “I want to lay down on my back, and you straddle me. That way, you can control the situation.”
Though he nodded, Micah still shivered with anticipation. He felt out of control already; he was not certain how he would regain it simply by being astride his lover. Stretching atop the blankets, Jefferson pulled Micah with him until he had no choice but to swing his leg over and rest lightly on Jefferson’s stomach.
His buttocks clenched when Jefferson’s semi-hard length nestled between the cheeks, his eyes widening as the possibility of riding Jefferson in this position made his prick jump.
“This is…provocative,” he gasped.
Jefferson ran his hands down Micah’s sides to grip his hips. He pulled him forward, until Micah’s cock was closer to his mouth. “I love the way you feel. I love looking at you like this.” His tongue darted out to catch the fluid gathering at the slit. “I love the way you taste.”
Micah cried out at the first contact, nearly falling forward in spite of Jefferson’s grasp. He caught himself on the headboard, grabbing its edge in order to right himself, but it only served to bring his prick closer to Jefferson’s mouth. He glanced down. His lover’s eyes glowed in the lamplight, fixed on the glistening tip poised at his lips. As Micah watched, Jefferson licked his lower lip and slid a hand from Micah’s hip to the root of his shaft. He angled it farther down and lifted his head, meeting it halfway to slip his tongue beneath the foreskin. The soft strokes around the head sent an array of gooseflesh down Micah’s legs. His knuckles went white from how hard he gripped the bed.
“I thought I knew how this would feel,” he panted. “But your mouth scorches far more than I ever thought possible.”
Jefferson lifted the corner of his mouth—a small, satisfied smile. It was the only visible response to Micah’s words before he sucked the tip between his lips. The hard suction drew a sharp gasp from Micah. He felt the heat of Jefferson’s mouth everywhere. It radiated through him, filling him, lighting every vein. Micah didn’t know how he could possibly tolerate it, and he knew his flesh would just burn hotter as Jefferson circled the crown with his tongue.
Jefferson looked up and met Micah’s gaze. He had never seen eyes so dark, or so hungry.
Though he’d claimed to wish this position so Micah could have a measure of control, Micah felt anything but. His thighs quivered, threatening to withdraw their support, and breath became more precious than gold. He wracked his brain, attempting to remember what it was Jefferson had done. All he remembered was the sensation of the smooth shaft sliding across his lips.
That was it. He had to move.
Leaning forward, Micah rested more weight on his knees, tilting his hips in order to slide more of his length into Jefferson’s mouth. Jefferson immediately accommodated him, teeth parting, tongue dancing, and Micah was forced to stop with only a couple thick inches buried in the wet heat. It was too much. Where had Jefferson found the discipline not to burst?
Jefferson let him rest, but not for long. His other hand went around to Micah’s buttocks, his fingers digging into the flesh, and Jefferson forced Micah deeper. Even when he thought he needed to stop again, Jefferson wouldn’t let him. Not until Jefferson’s lips were almost touching the base of his shaft. Jefferson eased up on his grip, allowing Micah to rock back. Once his tip brushed against Jefferson’s lips, Micah didn’t need another reminder to move.
The sight of Jefferson taking as much of his length in as he was enraptured Micah. He had not managed nearly so much, yet Jefferson almost seemed eager for more. He made hungry noises in the back of his throat every tim
e Micah pulled out, and his fingers massaged Micah’s backside every time he pushed in again. Even as the fire raced through his veins, Micah made a mental note to try sucking in deeper with Jefferson next time. If it made him feel this good, it had to do the same for his lover.
They negotiated a steady rhythm, and Micah’s heart thudded in his ears with each thrust. Micah was so caught up in what Jefferson’s mouth was doing, he forgot to keep track of Jefferson’s hands. When the one on his backside moved, he barely noticed. Until a long, slim finger dipped between his flesh to seek out his pucker. Micah barely had a chance to gasp before Jefferson penetrated him, pushing his finger in deeper as he swallowed more of Micah’s shaft.
It was too much. The constriction around the head of his prick, the penetration into muscle yearning for more, the love burning in Jefferson’s eyes, everything fused together to send Micah hurtling into an explosion of color. He slammed forward, his release so forceful it made him dizzy, only to rock back onto Jefferson’s finger and take him in even more. Micah shuddered as he shot onto Jefferson’s waiting tongue. Perhaps it was the hungry swallowing that got to him the most. He knew what it felt like to taste the evidence of desire. He craved it again, though it had been only moments since he’d consumed Jefferson.
He slumped backward, his shaft too sensitive when Jefferson licked along its length. “Don’t,” Micah begged. “I cannot sustain such torment.”
Jefferson gripped his hips again and gently turned him towards the bed. Micah allowed himself to be repositioned, curving his body around Jefferson’s to better fit upon on the narrow mattress. As soon as they were settled, Jefferson claimed his mouth, kissing him as hungrily as he had swallowed Micah’s shaft.
“I think we should have tried that sooner,” Jefferson murmured against his mouth.
Micah melted against him, burrowing into his chest. “And when, pray tell, do you think we might have? When we were so eagerly kissing on Christmas Eve, or when you were sullying my honor on Christmas Day?”
“Christmas Day, definitely. We should have experimented with this before your honor was completely sullied. Unfortunately, when it comes to corrupting young innocents, I find I can’t hold myself back.”
“I suppose it must be my responsibility to save you from temptation in the future, then.” He kissed lazy patterns across Jefferson’s throat. “I do not wish to share you with anyone, even young innocents who beg to be corrupted.”
“Until you, I have never met a young innocent who wanted to be corrupted so fully.” Jefferson traced Micah’s spine with a long caress. “I doubt there’s another like you anywhere.”
Unseen, Micah smiled at the compliment. He had no worries that Jefferson would be interested in another; it had taken him ten years to find someone else after Vincent.
But thoughts of Jefferson’s past reminded him of Simon Dering, and the events at the church earlier that evening. Some of his satisfaction fled, and he propped his head up on his hand to regard Jefferson, hoping his disquiet remained in the background.
“I think we should discuss what happened tonight. With Joseph.”
“I thought perhaps we were done discussing that.”
Micah frowned. “This can’t continue as it has been. Surely, you know that.”
“I know. But I am at a loss. Nothing like that has ever happened. How can I even begin to explain it or make sense of it?”
“We decipher this together. Starting with why Joseph would insist on showing you his death.”
“He didn’t just show me,” Jefferson corrected. “He insisted on making me experience his death. As to why…you must believe me when I say he has never, ever done anything like that. In fact, when I first moved to Wroxham, he was…he felt like the only friend I had in the world.”
Micah had known Jefferson had a lonely existence for a long while after losing Vincent, so it was difficult to begrudge him this one contact, even if it made Micah uncomfortable. “But Joseph isn’t real. At least, he can’t be as real as you need. And you have me now.”
“I know he is just a specter. But I don’t understand why he would want to hurt me now. Or why he is hurting anybody. Despite what you’ve experienced, Joseph has never behaved this way before.”
“Except he is now. And whether you like it or not, I don’t particularly care for anybody, let alone something incorporeal, to lash out at you like that. It’s almost as if…” Micah frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Could he be jealous of my presence in your life? After all, you said you haven’t been back to church in weeks.”
“I…it didn’t occur to me to ascribe such base emotions to him. But I suppose if a being is capable of friendship, it stands to reason that he is capable of jealousy, as well. If that is the case, I don’t know what to do to fix the problem. But if he were jealous, why would he target me? You were present as well, after all.”
Micah didn’t know. His fingertips grazed over the fine hairs on Jefferson’s chest as he considered the problem, his gaze unfocused.
“Have you ever attempted to address him directly before tonight?”
“Not really, no. It usually isn’t necessary. I can generally feel him without addressing him.”
“Perhaps we should attempt reaching out to him during the day.”
“And what shall we do? Inform him that I have room in my life for both of you?” Jefferson sighed. “Or find a way to help him pass beyond this world?”
“If not the former, then most definitely the latter. Though doesn’t that require an exorcism of some sort? We’d have to talk to Reverend Deem.”
“That’s probably the best place to start. I suppose it would be best for everybody if Joseph is allowed to find his final resting place.”
He could tell from Jefferson’s tone that he wasn’t completely satisfied with this answer, but Micah was. He could not bear seeing him as he’d been in the church, nor feel his flesh so icy. It suggested too clearly what it might be like if something more fatal should happen to his lover, and the thought that he might lose Jefferson filled Micah with terror.
His hand went to Jefferson’s waist, and he pressed their bodies together, glad that Jefferson was scalding to the touch. “If you’d like, I can talk to the reverend. So you don’t have to worry about him looking askance upon you afterward for believing in ghosts.”
“You would let him look askance upon you for supernatural beliefs?”
“I am the outsider here already. If it would save you from difficulty, I’d be more than willing to shoulder any disapproval.”
Jefferson covered Micah’s hand where it rested on his waist and squeezed his fingers. “We will both go visit him tomorrow to make sure he is well. If he is, you can speak to him. We shouldn’t postpone the conversation, if we can help it.”
“I’m assuming we wish to preserve Joseph’s privacy?”
“If possible. I doubt Grandfather knew those letters existed when he gave me the bible, and I’ve been very careful to hide them, out of respect for both of them. Joseph is still remembered in Wroxham for his contribution to the church.”
Micah nodded. It would be very difficult to not mention what he already knew, but he would do it for Jefferson’s sake. Touching the side of Jefferson’s face, he traced the narrow mouth with his fingertips as he posed his final request.
“Would you agree to stay away from the church until this is resolved?”
“If you request it.”
“You won’t begrudge me this? Because I cannot suffer another incident such as tonight.” He leaned in and kissed the path his fingers had just taken. “I shall not lose you, Jefferson.”
“I will avoid visiting the church until you are confident it is safe,” Jefferson promised.
Micah smiled. That was all he needed to hear.
Chapter 18
Jefferson hadn’t been lying when he said they could commission a second bed, but he didn’t think he would worry about that for some time yet. Waking up with Micah sprawled across hi
m, his head resting on Jefferson’s shoulder, his heart thudding against Jefferson’s chest, was like waking up in heaven. Jefferson suspected that the extra space provided by the second bed would prove to be too much distance. He wanted to keep Micah as physically close to him as he could.
It was still dark outside the window when Jefferson woke, and he knew he needed to see to his chores. He couldn’t begin to ignore his daily duties just because Micah’s firm, warm body pinned him to the bed. But the very thought of leaving Micah for the cold winter morning was enough to make him shudder. He didn’t think he could convince himself to push Micah away and start the day. Not yet.
Micah shifted in his sleep, seeking a more comfortable position. His shaft rubbed against Jefferson’s, and his semi-erect prick instantly hardened. He had never been this responsive to another person—even his obsession with Vincent seemed absolutely mild compared to his constant hunger for Micah.
He caressed the stubble on Micah’s jaw, then hooked his finger under the sleeping man’s chin and tilted his head for a soft kiss. When his tongue traced Micah’s lips, they parted automatically. Jefferson couldn’t help but smile as Micah sleepily returned the caress.
“Is it time to get up?” he murmured against Jefferson’s mouth. The hand resting on Jefferson’s shoulder drew languid patterns along his skin, drifting downward to his chest. “We only just came to bed.”
“Soon.” Jefferson skimmed his mouth over Micah’s rough chin. “I dreamt about you again.”
“Why? I’m right here.”
“It seems I just can’t get enough of you. That is how obsessions are defined, after all.” He smoothed his palms down Micah’s back, pressing their bodies together. “You don’t dream about me anymore?”
Micah rested his cheek against Jefferson’s chest again. “Being with you has banished my sleepless nights. If I dream now, I do not remember them. I am too rested.”
“Lucky you. Still, I wouldn’t trade my dreams. Especially when the last was so pleasant.” His hand moved between Micah’s thighs, and his fingertips brushed against Micah’s sac. “Would you like me to show you?”
