It certainly seemed to harbour far fewer qualms over what Lindsay was doing than its owner.
Now Lindsay set about sucking it in earnest, loving Nicol’s deep groans and whispered imprecations more than he’d have thought possible. Generally, he regarded this sort of service as a means to an end, a prelude to some other, more exciting outcome, but bringing this pleasure to Nicol felt like an end in itself. It occurred to him that merely serving Nicol in this way would probably be enough to bring about his own climax.
After a couple of minutes of sucking Nicol deeply, Lindsay realised he was already fit to come. He pulled his mouth off Nicol’s cock with a rude slurp, staying the rise of the man’s spend with a firm grip to the base of his shaft.
“What are you—” Nicol gasped, only to subside with another a groan as Lindsay yanked Drew’s breeches further down and nuzzled his face against the man’s balls, sliding his own knees wide to get himself low enough to pay Nicol’s scrotum closer attention.
Impossibly soft skin, prickled with coarse hair—Nicol’s balls were a contradictory landscape that Lindsay mapped for all he was worth, painting every inch with his worshipful tongue, loving Nicol’s helpless noises and the tension in his rangy frame as Lindsay tended to him. And Christ, but his scent was good here. Headily good. That scent made Lindsay’s head swim with pleasure and his wolf howl with satisfaction inside him.
Lindsay thrust one hand down between his own legs, ripping the placket of his silver satin breeches open and yanking out his needy prick. He had one of Nicol’s balls in his mouth as he did it, teasing the tender orb with his tongue, and as he settled his hand about his hot, desperate shaft, he moaned, making Nicol moan too, and yank again on his hair.
“Fuck,” Nicol gasped, “Your mouth, I can’t—Jesus!Suck my prick again,please—”
Lindsay obliged him, his fingers working his own cock as he slid up to engulf the wet, ruddy head of Nicol’s in his mouth again, this time setting up a steady rhythm designed to bring the man the completion he craved.
Lindsay’s hand moved in time with his mouth, each sucking draw on Nicol’s shaft accompanied by a fierce pull or twist of his own cock so that soon, he too was moaning. Was, in fact, moaning in tandem with Nicol, their voices first syncopating, then coinciding, as their individual pleasures twisted together like ribbons on a maypole. It was a matter of moments till their mutual delight climaxed, semen rising, then spilling like boiled milk, a sudden, uncontrollable flood that filled Lindsay’s mouth and flowed over his hand, at once sticky and exuberant.
Lindsay swallowed Nicol’s seed, loving the salt, the tangy flavour, the background mineral hint of Nicol himself. His own seed, he wiped off on the linen of his drawers. Only then did he sit back on his heels and raise his wary gaze to Nicol.
The man looked wrecked. Beautiful and wrecked.
He lay back in the armchair, his long legs stretched out and splayed apart, his spent cock limp now, but still exposed. He met Lindsay’s eyes, saying nothing, his face expressionless. The unmistakable scent of desire had dissipated, leaving a sour trail of regret.
Lindsay rose fluidly to his feet. He drew a silk handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the corners of his mouth, snapping the mask of the worldly fop back into place.
Nicol began to tuck himself away, saying nothing.
“Well,” Lindsay said brightly, “you certainlyseemedto enjoy that.”
Nicol flushed, deep red colour suffusing his face. “Of course I did,” he muttered. “It was—beyond what I’d imagined it could ever be.”
Lindsay had half-expected anger at this point, maybe even physical violence. Nicol’s unexpected honesty unsettled him. It drew his wolf’s attention too. The beast surged up inside him, robbing him momentarily of words so that he struggled to voice his human thoughts.
“It was thy”—he stumbled at the antique word, made himself take a breath and concentrate—“It was your first time? With a man?”
Nicol nodded. He didn’t seem to notice Lindsay’s brief slip. “There has only ever been my wife. No one before, or since.”
“You loved her.” It wasn’t a question.
“She was the mother of my child,” Nicol said hoarsely, and there was a wealth of grief in those words.
“You have a child?”
Nicol’s gaze shuttered entirely at that. “Had,” he said shortly. “My daughter died a few hours after she was born. I lost them both in one night.”
Lindsay’s throat closed. He couldn’t imagine the horror of such a loss. The man’s child, a newborn babe, and his wife too, within hours of each other. It was a common enough tragedy, of course, but tragic for all that.
Abruptly, Nicol rose to his feet, and began fastening the buttons on his breeches. “I should be going,” he said. “I have intruded on your hospitality for too long.”
Though his voice was calm, Lindsay caught an edge of sudden desperation that spoke of an urgent desire to flee. Nicol wanted no more of Lindsay tonight, and though the realisation was painful, Lindsay knew it would be a mistake to try to detain him.
Even so, the words came with difficulty.
“Of course,” he said, inclining his head politely. “But please, make yourself comfortable till Mr. Wildsmith brings your coat. He will only be a few minutes at most. As for myself, I will take my leave now, and give you some privacy.” He made the briefest of bows before adding politely, “Thank you for your company this evening, Mr. Nicol, and goodnight to you.”
“Goodnight,” Nicol replied.
The note of relief in his voice as Lindsay turned and left the room was like a knife in his side.
