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Lloyd adored the way Nobbie glared at him. “For being so distractingly handsome, of course.”

“I was right.” Nobbie’s face lit up with a broad smile and he relaxed, shifting to a less intense pose, which helped Lloyd relax too. Maybe whatever Nobbie was going to be correct about wouldn’t be so bad.

“About?”

“You were trying to scam me.” Nobbie winked and Lloyd was completely confused, caught between the seriousness of the accusation and Nobbie’s playful expression. People were so goddamned confusing.

“No. Never.”

“Yes. Not for money. I think you used the damned watch to get into my pants.”

It wasn’t untrue, although Lloyd had acted on instinct when they’d met, not with the deliberateness of a scammer. He had wanted the watch and a little portion of his brain had hoped that if he flirted—or at least attempted to flirt in his own obtuse way—he might have more of a chance of viewing the Hobart.

“God, the way you knelt before me, in the corridor of Hedwick’s ballroom too, was irresistible. I didn’t care about the nonsense you were saying about the watch. I just wanted you to kneel for me again.”

“Happily.” Lloyd placed the auction catalogue on the chaise lounge behind him, and rolled from where he was sitting on the floor beside Nobbie until he was lying between Nobbie’s thighs. “Like this?”

“It’s not technically kneeling.”

“You’d better stand then.”

Nobbie shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “I think I prefer this for now.” He stroked his hands through Lloyd’s hair, exactly the way he’d done many times this week, and just like Lloyd enjoyed it. He could spend the rest of his days kneeling for Nobbie and having Nobbie’s hands in his hair. Nobbie applied the perfect amount of pressure to his scalp that took it from a soothing, fall-asleep-in-his-lap vibe, to a slowly building tension sending flickers of heat down his spine. He nuzzled against Nobbie’s thighs, then used his hands to undo the lacing on his trousers, pulling down his fall, as Nobbie’s fingers dug into his temples. He sighed as Nobbie pressed his face closer to Nobbie’s rigid cockstand.

“I don’t need the encouragement.” He blew a light breath onto the head of Nobbie’s cock, loving the way Nobbie shuddered in response. And then he slowly licked the end, playing until Nobbie cried out in frustration.

“More please.”

Warmth combined with heat inside him, and he swallowed Nobbie’s thick cock all the way into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He had to shift his body slightly, hooking his arms over Nobbie’s thighs to get more of the right angle. As he slid up and down, loving the taste of Nobbie and the way he filled his whole mouth, Nobbie’s fingers gripped harder and he began to moan. Yes, more like that. He wanted Nobbie to lose control; of his voice, of his breath, and of himself. He wanted the rush of Nobbie coming into his throat.

“Stop.” Nobbie’s desperate cry made him stop immediately, unmoving. “Not like that. Off.”

He let out an embarrassing protest as he did as Nobbie asked and found himself being hauled up Nobbie’s torso until they were kissing, then Nobbie rolled them both and the perfect weight of his lover had Lloyd bucking his hips and groaning into Nobbie’s mouth.

“Let me fuck you like this.”

Heat blazed through him and he needed to tear off his clothes. “There is oil on the mantlepiece.”

“Really?”

“I was hopeful.” He tried not to be embarrassed by wanting Nobbie so much, but the way Nobbie’s eyes lit up was worth it. Nobbie kissed him hard.

“Good.” And then Nobbie bounced to his feet, stripping off his clothes before leaning over to grab the small bottle of oil from the mantlepiece. Lloyd couldn’t move, staring at the display of Nobbie’s pale skin and rippling muscles and decisiveness.

“You are still dressed?”

He was. “Do you want me like this?”

“No. The fire is warm. I want to see you.”

He leaped up and stripped off. “Like this?”

“No, as you were.” Nobbie licked his bottom lip, his gaze tracking over Lloyd’s skin, leaving trails of gooseflesh. He tried to sink to the rug slowly, and it must’ve been more elegant than it felt because Nobbie’s cheeks turned pink and his nostrils flared.

“Knees up. Get yourself ready.” Nobbie stood over him, and drizzled oil onto his belly. It splashed on the rug and dripped across his torso, so he dragged his fingers through it, and spread it over his hard cock.

“No. Leave that. Get yourself ready.” Nobbie nudged his knees wider, and he groaned as he obeyed. He swiped his hand through the rest of the oil on his stomach and slipped his fingers behind his balls, opening himself up. Nobbie sank to his knees with a loud moan.

“Lloyd. By God. You are marvellous.”

“Fill me.” He reached up for Nobbie with one hand, needing his touch.

“Yes.” Nobbie pushed Lloyd’s hand away, holding it above Lloyd’s head on the rug, and then lined himself up. The fierce concentration on Nobbie’s face was too intense and Lloyd closed his eyes, breathing out slowly as the steady pressure around his rim built and built, until Nobbie slid inside and Lloyd relaxed around his hard length.

“Yes.”

“Please.”

They both begged for each other, and Nobbie grunted as he balanced on his elbows, sweat slick on his chest and temples.

“Lloyd. Fuck.”

“Yes. I need you.” He reached for Nobbie, his slippery oiled hands sliding over Nobbie’s skin, unable to grip him, but it didn’t matter as Nobbie clung to him, thrusting inside with the perfect rhythm. He cried out for more, unable to make words, just begging with every thrust that slid past that point inside him that sent him closer and closer to the edge.

“Nobbie. Time changes when you do this.” His internal clock changed from being regular and predictable to being in sync with Nobbie and he was unable to tell if they’d been doing this for mere minutes or an hour or more. He never lost track of time, except with Nobbie, and surprisingly, it was wonderful (and only a little bit scary).

“Fuck I love you.” Nobbie’s desperate cry as he came made Lloyd’s heart swell to uncomfortable proportions. This was what he wanted. A love that consumed him.

“Good.”

“Good? You’re a funny man, Lloyd.”

Lloyd gulped. “How can you say that while you are...”

“Fucking you into the rug?”

“Yes.”

“Because it’s true. You are perfect for me. Your obsession with time is funny and surprising and you are so welcoming and I love you. I realise that we’ve only known each for a short time and maybe it’s too soon, but...”

Lloyd might’ve agreed, but his father had said he’d known in an instant that his mother was the one for him, so maybe this idea of time and love was a construct.

“It’s not too soon. Time is literally something humans invented.”

Nobbie kissed him, hard with his hands wrapped around Lloyd’s scalp. “My perfect horologist.”

Lloyd’s chest was going to burst, it had expanded so much. “Yours.”

“Let’s be inseparable best friends who live together.” Nobbie rested his forehead against Lloyd’s, just breathing in the same air as each other. He didn’t elaborate on his comment. Was it a joke? Or was he serious?

“You are thinking a lot.” Lloyd was thinking too much, and he hoped, rather than knew, that Nobbie was thinking about the logistics of this too. He wanted it to work, without society noticing, which was almost impossible when he was a young unmarried Earl.

“I have friends who are in similar situations, and it works. People see what they want to see, and it’s not two men in love, usually.”

It made some sense. There were plenty of unmarried men and women among his social set, and some committed bachelors. He could dream, couldn’t he?

“If you think about your story, Nobbie, it shows that love transcends marriage. Of course I will live with you as if we were married.”

“My story?”

“The Duke was in love with Hobart, but he was never able to marry her because of other constraints.”

“Like her being married.”

“Or him. And when they were together, she was technically a widow, which meant their love at least got some time together. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out like in the books.”

Nobbie kissed the tip of his nose. “What books do you read if that’s the story you want?”

“Wait. Please stop teasing me. I’m still trying to reconcile love and marriage and all the things I’ve been taught and what that means for me now.”

“It’s simple. Marriage is a business transaction. Love is love. We can make it into whatever we want.”

In that case—if it really was that simple—there was only one question that mattered. “My house or yours?”

“Both. It’ll confuse everyone.”

“Except the servants. They always know everything.”

Nobbie kissed him again. “Then we’ll employ servants who also want to live with their best friends.”

“Perfect.” And it promised to be. Nobbie belonged in his life, just like the way the gears in a timepiece slotted together with precise engineering pieces, moving together in unison to create a greater piece of beautiful artistic operation.

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