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He thought he heard a hissednoand lay low over Ben’s back, panting into his hair. Then moved his hand from Ben’s neck and tangled his fingers in the longish strands. “Yes or no?”
The universe held its breath.
“Yes. Just fucking do it.”
For a while, Ben Rider seemed to regret this bravado. He arched back in pain as Aleksey entered him. But Aleksey held onto his hair and turned the painful twists into tugging and stroking, caressing him, and he slid his other hand around Ben, hissing as he felt the throb of Ben’s cock against his fingers. He came far too quickly, had suspected he might. He’d been wanting this since Sennybridge, and the wait had been excruciating. Ben hadn’t got anywhere near where Aleksey wanted him to be, so he yanked him off the table and thrust him on his back to the ground. Ben was swearing profusely and trying to kick free of his remaining clothes when Aleksey rammed in once more. This time, slick with cum, Ben was delicious: tight, wet and very, very willing. Aleksey took his time, staring down into the green eyes. Ben Rider gave him back as good as he got, holding that stare almost mutinously as if defining the boundaries of what was happening his way. But he came, which was Aleksey’s only aim, and when he did he arched so high and cried out so loudly in pleasure that Aleksey’s second orgasm ripped through him and hung suspended on the intensity of another’s pleasure.
That delight was cut short fairly brutally when Ben Rider shoved him off and out. They were both still encumbered by clothes caught around ankles and trapped by shoes, but Ben crawled over him then heaved him painfully over onto his belly. They were both sweating, panting with effort and repressed unfulfilled need, and Ben lay for a moment one hand on each of Aleksey’s hard cheeks before he pulled them painfully apart, muttered, “Fucking hell,” and entered him.
Ben stopped almost immediately, but before Aleksey could protest this, he resumed with a long, drawn out, “Oh, God, you’re so…” And he dipped and thrust higher and harder, and Aleksey arched to the stretch and sting, which was nothing but pulses of pleasure after a while. Ben’s hands began to roam and explore, up his warm back under the soft cotton shirt, into his hair, which was far longer than Ben’s and allowed Ben to hold it fast while he pounded. Finally, one of Ben’s hands pushed in beneath him and found him and when it did, they both exploded together, Ben flooding him with warmth inside and his spills coating and slicking Ben’s fingers.
Ben fell on top of him.
Aleksey could feel the powerful beats of Ben’s heart against his back.
Suddenly, Ben pulled away, his softening cock slipping free. He staggered to his feet, one hand on the table to support himself. Aleksey rolled over with some difficulty and hiked up his trousers before climbing slowly to his feet.
Ben was clutching his clothes closed, as if he’d been ravished.
Aleksey tensed. This was often a moment when these things could go very badly wrong: some men in his experience waited until they’d got off before protesting the method.
He did not even see the attack coming. Ben Rider moved so quickly that Aleksey was completely taken unawares and fell backwards into an armchair with a distinct, “Fuck,” when Ben shoved him hard. Ben seized his ankle, dragged him down to the ground and flipped him over again. Aleksey swung back and elbowed him in the face, then sprang to his feet, holding out a hand in a universal gesture ofback off, wait. Slowly, he started unbuttoning his shirt. Ben suddenly appeared to get it and came forwards, as fast and furious as before and simply ripped the entire shirtfront open, buttons popping away as the material surrendered.
Aleksey bent forwards and bit savagely into Ben’s neck with a hissed, almost silent, “I liked that shirt,” and tore at Ben’s clothes, knocking the younger man to the ground and heaving off the offending shoes and trousers. He hopped, pulling off his own and then, both entirely naked, he fell astride Ben, kneeling over him.
Ben seized his shoulders, and in a move Aleksey couldn’t have matched even if he was up to par, which after possibly two bottles of wine and a bottle of whisky he wasn’t, brought his legs up and flipped Aleksey over his head. Before Aleksey could recover, Ben was on him. He lifted Aleksey’s leg, hesitated once more, possibly because they were now face to face, and what he was about to do struck him more forcibly, then forced himself in.
Aleksey wasn’t sure he had it in him. Ben was twenty-five. He wasn’t. But Ben, the lack of response evident, bent forwards, and with a brush of his hand to his own bleeding neck, bit Aleksey’s nipple. It was shocking and so painful that he actually moaned and slapped the side of Ben’s head, hard. Ben laughed to himself and did it again to the other side.
Now more than able to match Ben’s needs, Aleksey arched up, Ben took him in his hand as he thrust, and although he thought Ben had not meant this, their gazes met. Once met, neither could look away.
There was a trickle of blood running down Ben’s chin, possibly from where he’d elbowed him, possibly where Ben had bitten him. It was hard to tell. Aleksey lifted his hand to wipe it away and Ben bit his fingers, releasing then seizing the palm in his teeth and clenching it hard while he came.
Aleksey came for the last time to pain and blood and alcohol surging in his veins, and for the first time since he had fled his life for this existence, he felt he had come back to himself.
They lay side by side in the aftermath, neither bothered it seemed to dress. Everything hurt, until it subsided to a throb or occasional tingle.
Finally, Ben sat up.
He wrapped his arms around his knees and put his head down, breathing deeply.
Once more, Aleksey was wary, alert. This too was a time to be cautious of the man who let you into his body, who took yours—once the regret and shame rose hot and fast like vomit.
Ben spoke from beneath the privacy of his arms. “I think I’ll leave. Will you make my apologies to Lady Philipa? Say I was called back.”
“If you wish.”
Aleksey sat up too and pulled his ruined shirt closer. He used it to wipe his body down and then after a moment’s internal debate nudged Ben with his foot and offered it to him.
Ben took it, but just held it, as if he couldn’t work out what it was for.
Slowly, Aleksey rose to his feet and pulled on his trousers and jacket. He couldn’t find his socks, and only held his shoes loosely in his hand.
He toed Ben’s clothes closer to him.
Ben looked up, his expression now completely closed off. “So?”
Aleksey tilted his head quizzically. “So?”
