Page 1 of Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

Chapter 1 - Adam

Edgeley Park, Buckinghamshire

December, 1823

Adam woke to the unmistakable sound of a cup of tea being stirred, the domestic tinkle of a silver teaspoon against china.

Yawning, he stretched and opened his eyes. Lysander was standing at the window, naked, his slim, strong body beautiful in the weak winter sunlight. In his hands he held a cup and saucer. Fine eggshell porcelain decorated with delicate pink roses, absurdly dainty in his capable masculine hands.

Lysander hadn’t yet noticed that Adam had woken up. He was gazing out at the grounds of Edgeley Park, his expression peaceful, a small smile playing about his lips.

“Aren’t you cold, Mr. Winterbourne?” Adam asked sleepily.

Lysander turned, his small smile growing into a bigger one, happiness in his blue eyes to find Adam awake.

Was there anything better than that? Being looked at like that, by the person you were in love with?

“Oh, Mr. Freeman, you know me.” Lysander set the cup and saucer down on a side table before strolling back to the bed, moving with that easy grace Adam had admired from the first. “I don’t feel the cold. Comes of growing up in a draughty old abbey.”

Adam reached for him as he drew near, pulling him down to land heavily on top of Adam, making Lysander laugh when Adam gave an unexpected “Ooof!”

“You might not feel the cold,” Adam said, when he had his breath back, “but your skin’s like ice. Let me warm you, beautiful boy.”

Lysander chuckled happily. “Boy,” he scoffed.

“Always my boy,” Adam assured him, settling his mouth on those sweet lips before rolling them over till Lysander lay on his back beneath him. Breaking the kiss, Lysander gazed up at Adam, eyes dancing with mirth and affection.

“I should be going,” he murmured, though he made no attempt to move. “I’ve work to do.”

“It can wait a little longer, surely.” Adam pressed a kiss to Lysander’s throat, then laid a trail of them up to the sensitive spot where his jaw met his ear, relishing his lover’s moan of pleasure. “First I need to taste you spending in my mouth. Would you like that? A little reward for taking my cock so well last night?”

Lysander moaned again. “God, your cock—I can still feel you.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Yes, suck me. I love your mouth on me.”

Adam squirmed his way down the bed, dropping kisses on Lysander’s body as he went: left shoulder, right nipple, the arch of his ribcage and down to his navel.

So many delights.

With a happy sigh, Adam settled between Lysander’s open thighs, spreading his elbows to make a little more room for himself, chuckling softly at Lysander’s sigh of acquiescence.

For a moment, he let himself have the luxury of simply looking at Lysander, staring with unabashed fascination at the light brown nest from which Lysander’s cock sprang, hard and red-tipped, bobbing with need, and the neat purse of his balls, already high and tight.

“Adam,please—”

He glanced up. Lysander had his arm thrown over his face and his chest rose and fell as he panted.

Such a lovely, uninhibited boy.

Adam’s heart clenched, a feeling that was joyful and sad at once. He wished he could preserve this moment forever. The truth was, he wasn’t sure how long this would last—how long Lysander planned to stay at Edgeley Park—and somehow, he could never bring himself to ask, as though by doing so he’d remind Lysander there was a world outside this house, waiting for him.

Setting those thoughts aside determinedly, Adam turned his attention to the matter at hand. He began with Lysander’s balls, licking a luscious, wet stripe over the tight, wrinkled flesh and drawing a shaky laugh from his lover.

Lysander liked this sort of thing very wet, so Adam held nothing back, licking with abandon till his chin was wet and his mouth made lewd slurping sounds. Lysander squirmed against him, moaning and bucking without an ounce of shyness.

God, Adam loved that. Lysander writhing beneath him, undone with pleasure. There was no shame in the bed they shared. No shyness. Only wild, uninhibited joy.

Adam shifted his attention to Lysander’s cock, first thoroughly wetting the base, then painting the shaft with generous swipes of his tongue, loving Lysander’s heady scent.

“Ah, Christ, you’re good at that—” Lysander cried, hips straining upwards for more. Adam looked up, meeting his gaze and grinning wickedly, before lowering his head to finally take Lysander’s shaft fully into his mouth, right to the back of his throat.