“Did you let me come?”
“You did anyway,” Gideon said on a breath. “I’d pleasure myself between your legs and you’d love it so much, you begged for it, and came because you couldn’t help it—”
Zeb whimpered. Gideon’s breath hissed out harshly. “That. That noise you make. That’s what I want.”
He shifted, working his prick between Zeb’s thighs and holding them shut tight with his own legs, hands entwined. Zeb’s blood was thudding in his veins. His prick felt hot and tight, and incredibly sensitive to the lightest possible brush of Gideon’s belly above him.
They were watching each other’s face as the slowly brightening grey dawn lit the room. Fingers embracing, palms kissing,and Gideon thrusting gently. No lubrication, just warm flesh, the friction of a smooth prick against his thighs, Gideon’s eyes on his, and the fact that he’d spent solitary nights wanking over this image. Zeb tilted his hips up, trying to press them together, the pressure in his own prick demanding touch, but Gideon was holding himself up just a little too high for anything but an occasional slide over the very head of Zeb’s prick. He gave a frustrated moan and felt Gideon’s shudder of response.
“Please,” he whispered. “I want to hear it.”
Gideon paused. Zeb said, “Say it.”
Gideon swallowed audibly. “You are so desperate,” he whispered. “You want it so much. I can feel you shaking and hear you moaning. God, you love it.”
Zeb could hear the naked desire in Gideon’s voice, and it felt like an electric charge all over his skin. “Please. Please, Gideon, touch me.”
Gideon’s hands pressed harder. “Not yet.”
Zeb was squirming now, entirely trapped by Gideon’s hands and constricting legs. Gideon’s cock was wet now, leaking against his skin, rubbing his balls, his motions becoming more urgent, less controlled. “Oh God, please,” Zeb said. “You know I want it. Anything, if you let me come.”
Gideon reared up. “Roll over.”
Zeb rolled, with due care for his rigid erection. Gideon straddled him again, once again nudging his prick between Zeb’s thighs, this time rubbing against his balls and buttocks, movingin short thrusts. His hand came between Zeb’s shoulder blades, pushing him down.
“Please.” Zeb was writhing in earnest, for the friction of cloth under him, and the joy of Gideon’s weight, and very much for the provocative value. “Tell me.”
“You know you love it. You love to fuck and you love me fucking you, and you’re such an eager little tart—”
Oh, that’s my good boy.“Hopeless,” Zeb agreed. “Show me how I love it.”
He felt a hand snake under him, wrap around his prick, and for a second he thought he might spill there and then. He let out a shuddering moan. Gideon whimpered himself. “Oh, God, Zeb, tell me—”
“I am an absolute shameless fuckingslutfor you,” Zeb said, and then Gideon was driving between Zeb’s legs, spasming, coming over him as he convulsively jerked Zeb’s prick without rhythm or skill, just frantic need, and Zeb had to muffle his shout as he spent into the bedclothes.
Gideon slumped over his back. Zeb lay, flattened, with Gideon’s hand still clutching him, both of them heaving with the need to get their breath back.
“God,” Gideon said at last. “God.Christ. Uh, was that all right?”
“Is that a serious question?”
It wasn’t the acts, or even the words themselves. It was the desire that had wracked Gideon’s body, and the fact that he’d dug out the truth of that desire and trusted it to Zeb. That waswhat he’d wanted; that was a gift he’d hug to himself all his life. “It was very much all right,” he said, because Gideon might need that. “Only, next time, I want you to fuck me all the way, and call me a trollop while you do it, please.”
“You’re going to give me a stroke. I will actually die in bed and then you’ll have some explaining to do. Would you like that? Not the stroke. The other thing.”
“I feel like a man who’s saying he’ll do anything should be taken at his word.”
“When you put it that way,” Gideon said, and buried his face in Zeb’s neck.
It was the best possible start to the day. Zeb had a strong suspicion that things would start going rapidly downhill once they got up, so he made no effort to move, and they lay for a few more hazy, loving moments, until Gideon grunted. “I should get back to my room before people start rising.”
“Eh. What’s the worst that happens if we get caught? Wynn throws us out?”
“If I thought that was the worst that would happen, I’d ravish you in the main hall. Sadly, it wouldn’t be, so we need a plan.”
Zeb shrugged. “You do your best to find out about anyone coming or going; we lurk by the gate and ask for a seat in the motor as they leave. Or just hang around there and walk out as they arrive, come to that.”
“I’m unsure about walking,” Gideon said. “If Wynn sends at eight o’clock, there’s very little chance of anyone arriving before noon at the earliest, and it’ll be pitch dark by four-thirty. Wemight cover twelve miles in that time on a good road, and if we didn’t get lost—”
