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Heat surrounded Nobbie and he wanted to dab at his neck with his handkerchief. He’d never met someone so direct and somehow innocent sounding while not being innocent at all. Lawndry was temptation personified staring at him with those big brown eyes, and Nobbie was going to lose control soon if he wasn’t careful. He swallowed.

“Yes. That is what I want.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? All this fussing about with talk of using my teeth to get the watch, when really all you wanted was ...”

“You. On your knees.” Nobbie stood up, pleased his knees held firm. “You’ve done this before?”

Lawndry narrowed his eyes. “There are clubs that cater to men who prefer men, as well as clubs to cater to people like me.”

“Oh, are you like my friend Earnest? He has no preference for gender, although he’s fallen in love properly so maybe he only has preference for person now.”

Lloyd blinked rapidly. “I don’t have no preference. I don’t like people who are confusing or intimidating or unkind. I don’t like people who say one thing and mean another, or act differently to their words.”

“But you?” Nobbie realised he didn’t need to know everything about Lawndry’s desires. “Never mind. On your knees. We had a deal. You got to touch the watch, now pay up.” Nobbie forced himself to sound harsh. He shouldn’t care enough about Lawndry to get the answer to his own foolish question.

Lawndry sat up straight, looking around the room. “Perhaps you want to stand over there, against the wall?”

“Here is good.”

Lawndry licked his bottom lip. God. Did this odd man really think that his mouth was so good that Nobbie would need a wall to lean on? Air burned in his lungs. Lawndry stood up, close, so close. Their lips were almost touching, then Lawndry winked. He placed his hands on Nobbie’s shoulders and pushed his banyan back. The fabric slid to the floor, a silky trail over Nobbie’s skin. Why did that increase the anticipation? He had barely a moment to breathe, when Lawndry spread his hands over Nobbie’s chest, smiled a little to himself, then sank to his knees. It took Nobbie’s breath with him, descending down, emptying him out, and he nearly dropped too. Nobbie grabbed the table—damn Lawndry being correct about the wall—and holy balls... The way Lawndry knelt, eyes wide open, staring up at him with his mouth slightly parted and his cheeks a rosy brown, as if Nobbie were someone who mattered. No longer an orphan, or a convenient financier, but someone who deserved this attention. Lawndry’s attention. He panted and then swallowed to try and regain some semblance of control.

And then Lawndry slid his hands up Nobbie’s bare thighs, and he was glad he hadn’t bothered to dress yet.

“Your nightshirt is very long.” Was Lawndry annoyed that Nobbie’s nightshirt hung to his mid thighs, covering his stiff prick?

“Shall I take it off?”

Lawndry’s mouth did that little thing again. It would’ve been a smirk on anyone else. On Lawndry, Nobbie got the distinct impression that Lawndry was pleased with himself.

“Yes.”

He pulled his nightshirt up, over his head, and tossed it away.

Lawndry made a noise of pure sin. “Goodness. You are quite beautiful.”

Bless this man and his bluntness. Nobbie closed his eyes. Then immediately opened them again when Lawndry licked all the way up his prick. Pleasure focused in his cock making his balls heavy, and he had to grab the table again. No one he’d paid had ever treated him with such care. He had no time to think about what that might mean, because Lawndry—bless him—was attacking his prick with a wet mouth. The skill of him, how he tenderly licked at his slit, then pressed deeper with his tongue before sliding his whole mouth over Nobbie’s prick. He swayed on his feet, heat gathering tight in his balls. And fuck, the noises Lawndry made, as if he was loving this. The man’s fingers dug into Nobbie’s thighs, anchoring them both here together. Nobbie was so close to losing control. He threaded his fingers through Lawndry’s hair, gently, so that Lawndry had control over his pace but he’d know that Nobbie was here too. Lawndry moved his mouth and tongue torturously slowly, teasing him, and every time Nobbie might get close to the edge, Lawndry seemed to know and changed what he was doing. Nobbie clung tighter; to the table and to Lawndry’s hair, fingers digging into Lawndry’s scalp as Lawndry cupped Nobbie’s balls in one hand. Desire rushed up and down his spine, faster than a spindle on one of those new-fangled loom machines, until his breath matched the pace. Unsteady and frantic.

“Lawndry. Fuck me.”

Lawndry’s mouth sucked off the end of his prick with a sloppy sound. “I am.”

Could anyone sound more satisfied than that? It was too much and exactly perfect at the same time. Nobbie came in great spurts, painting Lawndry’s face, as if he owned him for a delicious moment. Lawndry squeezed Nobbie’s balls gently with one hand, then lifted the other to wipe Nobbie’s seed from his face. With a sly smile, Lawndry licked his hand clean and ... holy fuck, Nobbie would’ve come again if he wasn’t already spent.

“I think the debt is paid.” Lawndry’s voice was wrecked, hoarse and rough, and Nobbie liked it far too much.

“Let me clean you.”

Lawndry nodded. “Thank you.” He stayed on his knees, waiting, as Nobbie managed to stagger to his small washroom to grab a soft cloth. As he wet the cloth and squeezed it out, he realised that Lawndry hadn’t asked to come. Was he purely a giver? Even the men Nobbie had paid liked to have Nobbie tug them off afterwards for a quick release. He strode back into the drawing room and Lawndry was still there. Waiting on his knees.

“You may stand.”

“I think I might need some assistance.” Lawndry held out his hands and Nobbie grabbed them, feeling like the worst type of man. He’d been so focused on getting a cloth for Lawndry’s face—and all his own responses—that he didn’t think that Lawndry might need more than being left there.

“Come here.” Nobbie pulled him up and wrapped his arm around Lawndry’s waist, guiding him to the chaise lounge. He wasn’t quite sure of the etiquette now; having never done this with someone who came willingly without payment. Although—he frowned—perhaps this was no different since they’d negotiated a payment through Lawndry wanting to touch his watch. He sat beside him.

“I have one question.” He had to talk about something, to fix the growing unease at his own ignorance. There was one thing that Lawndry loved to talk about...

“Yes?”

“Are you sure the watch is called a Hobart? I always thought it said Nobert.” He’d been named after the engraving on the back of the watch.

“Yes. Whoever told you it was Nobert definitely read the maker’s signature incorrectly.”

Damn. Even his name was wrong. When he’d been given the watch at age sixteen, his weird name finally made sense, assuming the orphanage had named him after the watch. They were dreadfully lazy with their naming. Everyone got the surname of one of the sponsors, and a first name picked from a list. He’d been unlucky enough to get a nurse that day who’d been romantic enough to name him after his watch, but ...

“What is the matter?” Lawndry asked.

“The orphanage named me Nobert. My friends call me Nobbie.”

Lawndry grinned, leaning his head back against the wall. “Both of us have unfortunate monikers.”

“Oh?”

“Lord Lloyd Laurentius Lawndry.” Lawndry twisted in the chair and kissed Nobbie before he had time to react to the mouthful of Lawndry’s full name. The contact of his warm mouth on Nobbie’s lips was a shock. He’d never been kissed; it’d never occurred to him to do that. And then Lawndry sank his hands through Nobbie’s hair, pulling him closer, and they were kissing. Lawndry kissed like he had knew what he was doing, like he’d spent hours practicing. A rope twisted around Nobbie’s chest, pulling tight with jealousy—thinking of all the other people Lawndry must have kissed like this—and it almost ruined the kiss. Except it didn’t. Because someone was willingly kissing him, and it was fucking glorious. Now he simply needed to work out how to do this every day. Nobbie closed his eyes, his brain never quiet, even while all his senses were engaged in his first kiss. Lawndry tasted like salt and sex and whiskey—a sinful combination—and was that a hint of metal? No, he didn’t taste like Nobbie’s watch. That would be ridiculous.

Nobbie was almost completely certain that he could convince Lawndry to help him figure out why his watch had been left with him. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he definitely wanted to have an excuse to spend more time with Lawndry. Anything for more kisses...