Crane groaned. “Christ, Stephen. I want you to fuck yourself on me. Pleasure yourself on my cock exactly how you want. Make yourself come.”
“Oh God, yes,” Stephen said, and sank down to take Crane to the hilt in one smooth rush. Crane cried out in time with his lover’s low moan, and Stephen began to fuck in earnest.
His hands were fiery on Crane’s shoulders, the borrowed tattoo shrieking soundlessly on his pale skin, as he moved with concentrated deliberation, up and down, pulling up till only the head of Crane’s cock was in him and then thrusting downwards to take him deep. His own prick was glistening and iron hard against Crane’s stomach, and Crane said hoarsely, “Tell me if I can touch you.”
“No. I want to come like this. Just from you.”
Crane’s breath rasped. Stephen hissed, changed the angle, and threw his head back. “Yes. Is this good for you, Lucien? Do you need to move?”
“I’ve never been harder,” Crane said through his teeth. “And if I move at all, it’ll be to throw you on the floor and ravage you like a wild animal, so don’t even suggest it.”
“I have absolutely no idea who’s in charge now,” Stephen said breathily. He was moving faster, body tight and tense around Crane’s erection.
“You. Always you.”
“I’ll remind you of that when you’ve got me chained to the bed.”
“You won’t need to,” Crane said, feeling Stephen’s hands pulse against him, his straining prick swelling as he rode him harder and harder. “Not that you’ll be able to talk for my cock in your mouth, of course. In your mouth, in your sweet arse, taking my pleasure and making you come till you’re sobbing for mercy, because that’s exactly how you like it, and I will always give you exactly what you want—”
“Lucien!” shrieked Stephen, and climaxed violently, splashing hot against Crane’s belly, passage clenching tight, and rocking with an uncoordinated abandon that brought Crane off just a few strokes later.
They clutched each other, gasping and whispering broken words of love and lust as the tattooed magpies fluttered back and forth between them.
“There’s one on your neck,” Stephen observed, when he had his breath back. “It looks like you’ve never shaved. Go, on, shoo.” He waved a hand at the wandering tattoo, urging it down.
“Bloody birds,” said Crane, watching an inky beak peck at Stephen’s nipple. “No, actually, I take that back.”
“So you should. I’m becoming increasingly fond of them, the more they save our skins.”
“Pure self-interest on their part.” Crane stroked a finger along the fine lines at the corner of Stephen’s eye, the marks of too many things that couldn’t be unseen. “Are you all right, sweet boy? That was what you needed?”
Stephen tipped his head, considering thoughtfully. “Yes. I think it was, actually. Thank you.”
“For God’s sake!” Crane began, and then caught the glint in Stephen’s eye and dumped a scoop of water over him, in lieu of rebuke. Stephen retaliated by sending a wave of water from the basin, drenching Crane completely. Laughing, they washed again, and finally wandered through to the kitchen to raid the larder. Stephen perched naked on the kitchen table as Crane sliced him a wedge of bread and ham.
“What will you do now?” Stephen asked, once he’d devoured half of it.
“Right now? Take you to bed and keep you there till tomorrow lunchtime, at least. Longer term? Move my trading operations here, I think. If I’m staying—and I am—I’ll need to shift the control across and appoint a factor who’ll only steal with one hand, not both. I can build up the European side of things a fair bit, which might be interesting. And I ought to take the Vaudrey estates more seriously as well. I’ve repaired some of my father’s idiocy but there’s a lot more to be done. And my Vaudrey-Steen cousins are becoming a bloody nuisance, which needs dealing with. I won’t be short of work.”
“Sometimes I’m very glad I’m poor,” Stephen said. “Would you also have time to act as a liaison with the Chinese, at least for a while? There’s doubtless chaos brewing in Limehouse with the remaining shamans, and I need someone I can trust to work with us.”
“Will Mrs. Gold be happy with that?”
“I think we have her blessing, yes.”
“In that case, I’m at your command.”
“So you tell me,” said Stephen, eyes warm with affection. “Not always, though, I hope.”
“Certainly not. If you want to take charge of the fucking again, you can damned well save my life to earn it.”
“Now, wait a moment. That means I’m already owed at least three more—”
Crane raised his voice in mock protest and grabbed for him, and they laughed and struggled, while outside the windows and on the roof, the magpies circled and gathered and landed in their hundreds.
###
About the Author
KJ Charles is an editor by day and a writer by night, living and working in London.
KJ blogs about writing, editing and life on both sides of the publishing fence at kjcharleswriter.wordpress.com, and tweets as kj_charles.