Page 50 of Beguiled
“I don’t even know why I want this so much,” he breathed against David’s mouth when he released his lips. “I’ve had plenty of lovers I’ve never fucked. I don’t even think it’s the physical thing I want so much as—”
“As what?” David’s lips grazed Murdo’s as he spoke, and just that brief, brushing caress made Murdo groan and press their mouths together again, and whatever they’d been talking about was purely lost, a half-formed thought that fell away as their kiss deepened.
Murdo began to strip the clothes from David’s body with the skill of man who’d undertaken the task many times before, his fingers nimble and knowing. Once David was naked, he urged him to lie down on the mattress of the big bed. The linen was cool under David’s naked back, the candlelight casting a warm, dim glow over his skin. Murdo paused a moment to look at him, his gaze eating up the picture David presented, lingering on the hard, aching shaft that rose from the brush of fox-red hair between David’s legs.
Murdo stripped away his own clothes with no care for their expensive elegance, tossing them aside like rags, his turbulent gaze intent on David. And Christ, but he was a sight to behold. Tall and powerful and dark. He was no fop, this Lord Murdo Balfour.
Fully naked now, Murdo crossed the room to open a drawer in the armoire and withdraw something. As he turned back to the bed, David saw that he held a small bottle, stoppered with a cork and three-quarters full of something greenish-gold and viscous.
“What’s that?” David asked.
“Oil. It makes it easier.” Murdo crawled onto the mattress and straddled David’s thighs. His gaze was hot, his faint smile promising. “I’m going to rub it on you—and in you—and do other unspeakable things to you too.” He grinned, boyishly handsome, carelessly happy. “Things that will have you so ready for me you’ll be begging for my cock.”
David gave a nervous laugh. Was it possible he’d beg? Given how anxious he felt about what was to come, it seemed unlikely.
Something about his thoughts must’ve shown on his face. A tiny frown appeared between Murdo’s dark brows.
“We don’t have to do this—” he began.
“I want to,” David interrupted, his voice firm.
Murdo stared at him for a long moment; then he nodded. “All right, but I’ll stop anytime you want. Just say the word if you change your mind.”
“I will,” David murmured back. “If I want you to.”
Murdo tossed the bottle of oil onto the mattress—it landed a foot away from David’s hip, within easy reaching distance—and dropped down to cover David’s body with his own. He was heavy and warm, and the faint roughness of his chest hair teased David’s skin. His scent, deliciously male, carried the hint of a dozen aromas, the clean tang of his sweat, wine and woodsmoke, a hint of bitter orange from the pomade he’d dressed his hair with.
David breathed in, arching his back and pulling Murdo closer.
“Do we have all night?” Murdo breathed in his ear. “Will you stay till morning?”
“Yes.”
They’d have the whole night, and maybe part of the morning too. The hours ahead spooled out like ribbon, endless-seeming.
“Good,” Murdo said. “Then I can take my time.”
He began by exploring the hollows of David’s throat with his mouth, moving slowly down, over sternum, nipples and flanks. He traced the deep crescents of David’s lower ribs and dipped his tongue into the shallow indentation of his navel.
His exploration was tender and slow, and it brought David more than mere pleasure. The touch of Murdo’s mouth made him feel alive, his neglected body given meaning by the attentive desire of his lover. Each kiss saying,you are here, in this world, with me.
Murdo moved farther down, his soft kiss following the line of David’s hipbone to the deep furrow between thigh and groin. Shifting position, he gently pushed David’s thighs apart, settling himself into the space he made, his big body moving with unexpected grace.
It occurred to David, distantly, that he should be embarrassed to be opened up like this, Murdo’s broad palms firm against his thighs, holding him ruthlessly open. But he felt no shame as Murdo looked him over, then finally, achingly slowly, dipped his head again.
David gasped at the sensation of Murdo’s mouth on the tender skin of his inner thigh, growing restless as Murdo continued his languid journey, his attention oblique and maddening. Murdo’s agile tongue skirted David’s hard cock, the prickly sac of his scrotum, his aching hole, concentrating on the less direct but still sensitive areas around them, and David shifted under his attentions, moaning, his hips bucking up in frustration.
“God, Murdo—” he exclaimed, his voice husky with need. “Fuck me, please!”
Murdo laughed softly, raising himself to his knees between David’s spread thighs to look down at him, his ready smile bright with mischief and pleasure. David’s breath caught in his throat as their gazes met, and for a moment, Murdo’s expression turned oddly serious, the merry glint in his dark eyes briefly softening into something infinitely more tender and affectionate. Then desire took over again, and he reached for David’s nipples, thumbing the tiny peaks before running his hands down David’s flanks with a low moan.
By now, the sharp nerves David had battled at the start of this had dimmed to little more than a background murmur. Now his body yearned for the attention it had feared, remembering the pleasure Murdo’s fingers had given him once before.
Murdo took hold of David’s hips, pulling him closer and simultaneously pushing his legs back. David’s pelvis tilted till his knees were almost touching his chest.
“Hold your legs up for me,” Murdo murmured, and David complied, grasping the backs of his thighs.
Shame seemed to have deserted him, and he could only watch, breathless, as Murdo reached for the bottle that lolled next to David’s hip, unstoppering the cork with his teeth.