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Not wasting another moment, Galen urged Azriel to lie back. Just as he was about to sink down beside him, Azriel gathered Galen’s face in his hands and dragged Galen on top of him with a firm meeting of lips and tongues. When their stiff cocks slid together, Galen nearly spent his seed, it felt so arousing. He panted roughly into Azriel’s neck, becoming accustomed to all the different sensations at once—Azriel’s warm, smooth skin, his scent, the tingle of his lips near his ear…
Galen kissed a path against his throat, and Azriel gasped, his fingers digging into Galen’s lower back, and Galen didn’t want anything more than to capture all his sounds and replay them over and over in his fantasies.
Azriel rocked his hips against Galen, which made him burn with unrepentant desire. When their lips met again, Galen moved his hips in shallow thrusts that made everything in his body sing. Azriel moaned and panted against his mouth, his entire body jerking, and just when Galen thought he might break apart, Azriel suddenly flipped them, their mouths barely parting through the effort.
It was a different sensation with Azriel on top, and Galen wasn’t sure which he preferred, but it didn’t matter, as long as he could stay near him like this forever.
They rutted in unison as their mouths met time and again, the only sounds in the room their bodies coming together alongside their moans and heavy breaths. Galen knew they weren’t alone, but in that moment, he wished with all his might they could have been somewhere private. Everything between them seemed too intimate, too profound, but he’d take it all the same. It was a gift, after all.
Azriel stared down at him, eyes wide in wonder. With his lips swollen, his skin flushed, and his hair askew from their exertions, he couldn’t have looked more radiant.
“Galen.” It was the first time Azriel had spoken his name in the throes of passion, and it was enough to make Galen helplessly break apart in his arms.
“I’m going to spend.” Galen gasped as he spurted across his abdomen, and when Azriel shuddered, Galen felt the immense satisfaction of their seed mixing together. As they slowly came to themselves, they stared at each other, in shock over what had transpired between them.
When Galen glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Mr. Blackburn was in tears, his forearm damp from wiping his eyes.
He stiffened. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes, of course. Don’t mind me at all.” He waved them off, but his aura had turned as deep as a starless sky. “You are simply stunning.”
Once they’d cleaned up, Mr. Blackburn excused himself rather quickly but with warm parting words, and it made Galen feel a seed of melancholy alongside pure, incandescent joy.
Back in their sleeping quarters, when they saw with their own eyes that Bellamy was, in fact, all right—and even teasing about the constable needing to flee as soon as the act was over—they smiled at one another as they begrudgingly parted ways.
In bed, Galen finally felt safe enough to relive his evening with Azriel—and how the world had seemed to disappear when they were together.
He savored it, knowing reality would intrude again soon enough.
Chapter 20
They hadn’t seen Mr. Blackburn since the night they kissed—he hadn’t been there the following week—and Galen wondered if it had anything to do with how emotional he’d been, which was surprising in itself. He hoped the man was all right, and that they would see him this week. He considered asking Madam Langley if she’d heard anything, but he didn’t think she would look kindly on them growing too fond of any of the men who visited Moon Flower.
It was her establishment to run and her rules were strict, but he did wish she would soften at times. Even at dinners, where there was teasing and laughter, her aura remained green. Only after her nights away with Madam Fairborn did she seem lighter and happier, her aura tinged with purples and golds.
Mr. Blackburn’s absence also meant that Galen only had limited opportunities to be alone with Azriel—most of them after the others had gone to sleep. He’d kept his oil lamp lit most nights, hoping to stay awake long enough for Azriel’s return to the sleeping quarters.
Last night, when Azriel finally appeared, he looked tired and troubled, and he’d confided in Galen that the new potion for the constable was ready.
Upon the man’s arrival at the apothecary that morning, Galen hid in the back room to help with the drying of herbs. He cringed when he heard the constable threaten Madam Langley again, wanting to give him a piece of his mind but knowing very well what was at stake if he made the man angry.
Instead, he snipped the herbs in front of him with more of a flourish, and when Azriel appeared, fraught with worry, Galen curled his fingers around his shoulder in support. As always, it felt like an energy field sparked between them, drawing them closer, and they found comfort in that closeness.
