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His eyes flew wide. “Is that what ye think? That I detest ye?”
Standing he stalked to where the younger man sat, placed hands on the arms of the chair caging him in. “I do not detest ye. I desire ye. Every damn day. It is my feelings for ye that I abhor.”
It was as if a rope squeezed around Caelan’s chest. “Sometimes, we cannot help how we feel about others.”
Reaching to cradle the back of Caelan’s head, Lachland covered his mouth to his. There was no resistance, neither did Caelan kiss him back. Instead he allowed it.
“I’d best go.” Lachland straightened. “I give ye my word to be civil, if ever we come across each other.”
They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, then Lachland went to the door.
As he reached for the door handle, the press of Caelan’s hand on his back stopped him. “Stay.”
There was no hesitation, Lachland whirled around and pulled Caelan against himself. The younger man’s body slender and perfect against him.
Their mouths collided, this time with hunger and need that was like an all-consuming fire.
Tearing at each other, their clothing was done away with in a matter of moments, and they fell to the bed and tangle of limbs, each touching, feeling and caressing as much as they could.
Rolling him to his back, Caelan gripped Lachland’s cock, the hand firmly moving up and down making him so rock hard that he had to grit his teeth to keep from spilling.
“No. I-I have to be inside ye,” Lachland stuttered, the words sounding breathless.
“I want ye,” Caelan said as he slid his hand up Lachland’s stomach to his chest. “I have wanted this for so long.”
The room seemed to spin and Lachland had to blow out several breaths to settle and keep from taking Caelan without constraint, savagely. “Do ye have any oil?”
Caelan pressed his lips to Lachland’s throat. “Aye. I hoped we would need it.” Sliding across him, the lithe body bringing every inch of his to life.
Just a moment later, Caelan lifted a small vial. “Perfumed oil.”
“Roll over,” Lachland commanded. Yes perhaps he should wait, allow them more time, but he needed to take him. He needed to know Caelan was his, even if for a few moments.
If Caelan found his request brusque, he didn't show it. Instead he rolled onto his stomach and then lifted to his knees.
Lachland was struck speechless. He wasn’t sure to have ever seen someone so perfect. An image he hoped to burn into his memory, never to forget.
Taking the oil from the vial, he stroked himself, oiling his shaft and then poured a few droplets onto his finger.
He then pushed his finger between the pale round orbs of Caelan’s arse finding the perfect place then slipped it in.
Caelan gasped, turning to look at him. The blue pools were dark with desire, his lips parted in a soft moan when Lachland pushed his finger in deeper ensuring to oil him properly.
Without needing to be told, Caelan reached around and pulled himself apart in invitation.
He slid in easily, the tightness of Caelan gripping him in a way that made it almost impossible to keep control. Lachland took his time, sliding out and driving back in, the pace slow as he savored every sensation.
When his thrusts became harder, Caelan gripped the bedding, his face turning red as he was fighting not to cry out. Instead he pushed his mouth into the bedding to muffle the exclamations.
Deeper and deeper, Lachland thrust until fully inside. Then he rocked in and out, their sacks slapping together. Every single movement brought spikes of passion, until Lachland lost all control.
Taking Caelan by the hips, he thrust harder, faster, each drive deeper than the last. The bed shook with the movement, but he didn’t care. He had to take him, had to do all the things he’d fantasized about.
Caelan was drenched in sweat, not only from being taken, but from his face buried into the bedding. Already he’d spilled onto the bed, unable to keep from coming as soon as Lachland thrust into him.
Now as the man continued the wonderful assault, he was hardening again.
“Roll onto yer back,” Lachland said, abruptly pulling out.
