Page 2 of Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

Lysander groaned deeply, and Adam felt like his master and his slave at once, vanquishing him with the passion of his service.

He sucked his boy, sucked and laved and licked, all abandon, no finesse, cheeks hollowing, face wet. He sucked till the muscles in his jaw ached and still never wanted it to end. His own cock was hard as stone, yet he didn’t even think about touching it. This was all for Lysander.

Lysander’s fingers tangled in his hair, urging Adam on while he babbled pleas and praise, punctuated with hoarse, inarticulate cries of pleasure. And then, all too soon, Lysander was coming, in joyful, salty spurts. Adam managed to swallow most of it, but a bit spattered across his face, making him chuckle—such a messy business this, tending to his boy.

He crawled back up the bed, leaning over Lysander’s relaxed body to grin down at him. Pointing at his face, he said, wryly, “You got me.”

Lysander laughed too, reaching up to wipe away the pearly fluid decorating Adam’s cheek with his thumb, only for Adam to catch his hand and draw it to his mouth, smiling into Lysander’s eyes as he sucked it clean.

Lysander’s smile was wide and uninhibited. All sunny handsomeness. “That was lovely. Now it’s your turn. Shall I—”

Before he could go any further, there was a short, sharp knock at the bedchamber door followed by a rattle that had Adam looking over his shoulder and howling, “No!”

Not that it did any good. The door still creaked open and a familiar auburn head peeped round the doorframe.

“Only me,” said its owner cheerfully.

Adam scrambled onto his back, pulling the bedcovers over his and Lysander’s bodies. “For God’s sake, Jonny!”

Lysander—the traitor—started laughing and pulled the bedcovers right over his head, squirming further down the mattress to hide from their intruder.

Another voice, from behind Jonny in the corridor, called out anxiously, “I’m very sorry, sir! I tried to stop him!”

Poor Fletcher. Adam’s butler was very protective of his master. Adam had given the man a job when no one else would, when the man was straight out of prison after being found guilty of the same crime Adam committed every day—preferring to share his bed with a man.

“It’s all right, Fletcher!” he called back. “I realise Mr. Mainwaring is impossible.”

Jonny chuckled and Adam gave him a look before sighing. “Come in then. Shut the door behind you at least.”

Jonny strolled in, resplendent in a dressing gown of heavy gold silk covered with lavishly embroidered peacocks, and let the door click softly behind him.

“Good morning,” he cooed, draping himself in a chair by the window. “You look wonderfully well this morning. All flushed and handsome. Have you two just been carrying on? I thought I heard some curious noises.”

Adam’s face heated with mortification. “You shouldn’t be let out on your own,” he muttered. “It’s a wonder no one’s murdered you yet.” Beneath the quilt, Lysander shook with laughter.

“You know my dear, I think you’re actually quite right about that,” Jonny said. “I could do with a full-time protector, but I’ve yet to find a fellow with the stamina to stay the course.”

“For a man who rarely gets up before luncheon, you’re surprisingly exhausting,” Adam agreed dryly. “Speaking of which, why are you up at this ungodly hour?”

Jonny grinned wolfishly. “I want your sweetheart for the day.”

Lysander popped his head above the bedcovers at that, eyes wide. “What?”

Jonny laughed. “Only to paint you, dear heart. You did promise me, and the light this morning is quite wonderful, all bright and wintry. I fancy you as Narcissus. We could walk down to that ridiculous folly next to the pond for my initial sketches. Don’t worry, you needn’t disrobe—it’s far too cold and I’m not a monster.” He smiled at Lysander winningly and batted his eyelashes.

His charms had no effect on Lysander though, who sat up and said, “I’m afraid I can’t this morning. I’ve a deal to do. There was a suspected case of sheep scab a fortnight ago over at Whitecross Farm and we’re double-checking all the herds.”

Jonny pouted. “Oh, but the light’ssoperfect!” He glanced at Adam and added with a chuckle, “Can’t you order him to pose for me, my dear? There must be someone else you could send to check the sheep?”

Adam felt Lysander stiffening slightly beside him, the sudden awkwardness between them palpable. It was a tension that arose whenever this was mentioned explicitly—that Adam was both Lysander’s lover and his employer.

They never really discussed it, or how it had come about. Adam had invited Lysander to come to Edgeley Park after a single day’s acquaintance. He’d fallen for Lysander absurdly quickly and wanted more time with his new lover. And since he had no idea what to do with the dilapidated estate he’d just bought, Lysander’s advice in those early days had been invaluable.

Suggesting Lysander take the position of steward had been a natural progression, so neat it felt positively destined. Adam wanted Lysander to stay with him and he needed a steward. Lysander seemed equally keen to stay with Adam and he wanted to manage an estate. He’d already asked his father, the Earl of Winterbourne, to allow him to run the family estate in Derbyshire, but the earl had refused him.

The difficulty was that now, a year and a half later, Adam wasn’t sure exactly why Lysander stayed. Was he, like Adam, head over heels in love? Or did he stay only to continue looking after Edgeley Park? Adam knew Lysander enjoyed everything they did together—there was no question that he shared Adam’s bed because he wanted to be there—but would he still be here had Adam not offered him his position? The truth was, Adam didn’t know—and he was afraid to ask.

Jonny’s question was a joke, nothing meant by it, and Adam treated it as such.