Page 19 of Beguiled
They worked together, undoing buttons and buckles and knots, unpeeling coats and waistcoats and neck cloths, till they were both down to their breeches. And Christ but the heat and silk of Balfour’s skin rubbing against his own made David half-mad with lust.
“Let me suck you,” Balfour muttered, dropping to his knees, his hands going to the placket of David’s breeches, his lips pressing against David’s fabric-covered crotch as he worked the buttons free with nimble fingers. He drew David’s cock out and engulfed the firm flesh in his hot, wet mouth.
David cried out, his fingers tunnelling into Balfour’s dark hair, his hips helplessly bucking forward. God, the man’s mouth was heavenly.
“Balfour—” he moaned.
At the sound of his own name, Balfour pulled his mouth off David’s cock and leaned back on his heels. David looked down, blinking, to meet a sloe-black gaze that was half-pleading and half-angry.
“My name isMurdo.”
“Murdo,” David repeated dazedly, the sound of it unfamiliar to him, intimate.
Balfour—Murdo—dipped his head again, and the heat and silk of his mouth enveloped David’s cock again. Oh, the luscious pull of those lips. The sinuous twining of that tongue. And—yes, there—the sudden astonishing space as Murdo opened his throat and let David slide all the way back.
“I’m not going to last—” David gasped.
Murdo’s only answer was to grip David’s hips harder, applying his mouth more eagerly to the task, and in moments, David climaxed straight down his throat in a crisis more intense that any he could remember. As though Murdo had drawn something more than mere seed from him.
As soon as he finished, he felt ashamed of his eagerness. He’d lasted a minute at most, perhaps not even that. He’d never climaxed so quickly before, and he felt his cheeks suffuse with colour again. When he looked down at Murdo, it was to encounter a self-satisfied grin.
“Good lord, how long has it been for you?” the man teased as he raised himself to his feet.
“A while,” David mumbled. “Sorry.” He stepped forward and reached for the placket of Murdo’s own breeches to return the favour.
Before he could loosen a single button, Murdo’s hand was on his, stopping him.
“I want this to last,” he said, smiling, the little creases at the corners of his eyes ridiculously appealing. “Kiss me again.”
David had been reluctant to kiss this man when they’d first met, but now, tonight, he didn’t hesitate. Maybe it was the magic of the night again, or maybe the words themselves, spoken like an incantation, Murdo’s softer, English-sounding accent caressing the syllables slowly. Whatever it was, David obeyed him, his hand snaking up to curl round the other man’s neck, drawing him down so that their lips could meet again.
The taste of his own seed was in Murdo’s mouth. The salty brine of life. Salt on his tongue, and the taste of Murdo too. The scent of him, in David’s nostrils as they kissed deeper still.
Ah, this was madness. He should stop this now and go. Pleasure was all very well, but when it was like this, when his senses were tricked into thinking this could be more than the mere scratching of an itch, there were consequences. Bittersweet regrets. Memories that were all the harder to bear for their remembered pleasure. Life was easier sometimes when you didn’t know what you were missing.
But already it was too late to stop. He’d started a brand-new memory, and even now, knowing what it would be like to lie in his lonely bed weeks from now and remember this, the wanting, the craving was stronger. He could no more walk away from this than a starving man could refuse bread.
And what pleasure. These kisses. The intimacy of them. The rough of Murdo’s chin scraping his own, the give of his lips. His tongue, teasing the corner of David’s mouth and thefeelof his smile—lips curving up against David’s. David opened his eyes at that smile, just in time to see Murdo’s own lashes flutter open. And, the shock, the shock and the pleasure of meeting a gaze that expressed so perfectly what David felt at this moment: wonder, pleasure…unexpected affection.
Murdo broke the kiss first, though he curled his fingers round David’s jaw, keeping him in place and brushing David’s damp lips with the warm, fleshy pad of his thumb.
“Come to bed,” he husked.
He drew David—heart thudding, breath still coming fast from their kisses—into the neighbouring bedchamber, halting at the end of the bed. He knelt, divesting David of his remaining, already loose clothing before unfastening and removing his own. When he stood again, fully naked, he pulled David flush against him.
“You’re different than last time,” he murmured. “More…amenable.”
“Am I? I feel just as overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed?” Murdo’s gaze was teasing and curious at once.
David hated the blush that returned to heat his cheeks yet again. His ready blush was the one thing he could never control, a horribly obvious betrayal of his feelings. “I’d never done this with anyone else before you,” he admitted.
Murdo frowned. “Of course you had. You knew what you were abou—”
“Like this, I mean,” David interrupted tightly. “In a bed.”
“Oh.” Comprehension transformed Murdo’s expression. He turned David round and gently pushed him down onto the mattress till he lay flat on his back, then settled himself at David’s side, his hand propping up his head. It was all David could do not to grab hold of him. Despite having only just climaxed, David’s cock was as hard as stone all over again, aching with need. How Balfour could lie there, just studying David’s prone body with calculated patience, was beyond him.