Theo swiped his cloth over the back of his neck, and thin streams of water sluiced down his long, naked back. Watching him like this was a visceral, slightly guilty, pleasure. He was a beautiful man. Not in the way of Ollie, with his charming good looks and easy smiles, but in a harder, more virile way. A more dangerous way.
As Theo lifted his arm to run the cloth over his right shoulder, George’s mouth dried, but this time, he forced himself to tear his gaze away, bending down to snatch up his sweat-soaked shirt the floor.
He cleared his throat. “Let me know when you’ve finished washing. I’ll rinse out my shirt in the water after.”
Theo turned away from the bucket, swiping at his chest with the linen cloth once more. “Go ahead. I’ll rinse my shirt out after. That was a hard day’s ride.”
“It was.” George managed a stiff smile as he brushed past Theo and dunked his shirt into the bucket. As he sluiced the linen around in the water to get the worst of the grime out, he was painfully aware of his half-naked state, and how lean his body was compared to Theo’s more muscular form. Was Theo watching him? He didn’t dare look up to check, instead busying himself with wringing out the linen before going to hang his wet shirt up next to his coat.
Through all of his pottering around, George fretted about what he should do next. Retrieve his clean shirt from his saddlebags? He only carried one extra one. Until now, he'd been able to get the dirty one laundered at the end of each day, at whatever inn they were staying in, keeping his clean one for the following day. If he put the clean shirt on now, it would be sadly crumpled by morning, after being slept in.
And really, what would Theo think if George put a clean shirt on to go to bed? As though he was some nervous virgin bride.
George glanced at Theo, who was now busy hanging his own shirt over one of the beams. Once that was done, he turned to smile at George. His chest was wide and powerful, furred lightly with dark hair, and George’s mouth watered at the sight. Not that Theo seemed to notice. He clapped his hands together, all business. “Right then. Shall we eat?”
His brisk words were a bridge back to the normal world. One in which they were friends, and nothing more, and neither one of them felt any need to stare at the other’s naked torso. George set off towards that bridge gratefully. “Yes, let’s,” he said. “I’m absolutely starved.”
15
THEO
Theo couldn’t stop staring at George. For the last five days, they’d been in each other's constant company, but at night, they’d been retiring to the privacy of their own bedchambers. While Theo enjoyed the sight of George in his riding clothes, there had been no opportunity to see him like this, sprawled on a bed—well, on a pallet—in nothing but his drawers.
The innkeeper had sent up plenty of food for them. Theo ate his fill, and could only watch in astonishment as George consumed every last crumb of what remained, including all the fruitcake.
“Are you sure you don’t you want some?” George asked Theo, for at least the third time, pushing the last piece under his nose.
“Quite sure,” Theo said. Not only did he not have a sweet tooth, he absolutely detested currants.
“You’re missing out,” George informed him. “This cake is glorious.” And with that, he took another huge bite.
Theo tried to look away, but his eyes kept drifting back to George, lounging on his side on the straw pallet, his head propped up on one hand. When he stretched across the pallet to snatch up his wineglass from the floor, the subtle play of his spare musculature in the lantern light was beautiful to behold.
And that mouth.
Why could Theo not stop thinking about George’s mouth?
Clenching his jaw, he lifted his glass to his lips, drinking deep. Soon they would have to retire, and then they would be sharing that straw pallet, neither of them wearing very much, since all their clothes were drying.
Theo couldn’t stop thinking about touching George, lying on top of him so that every part of that lean body was plastered against him, their cocks hard and vital and pulsing with desire. He stifled a groan.
He’d never been interested in kissing before, but now Theo found himself fantasising about exploring George’s mouth with his own. Every night, he dreamed of having George in his lap, riding him. Or of taking George’s cock into his mouth. He imagined George on his hands and knees, pushing his hips back against Theo’s as he moaned with pleasure. Often, when Theo would glance at George, he’d find George already looking at him, heat in his dark eyes. Their gazes kept getting tangled up, and every time it happened, it was harder to pull his own away. He didn’t want to pull his gaze away. He wanted to follow his instincts, which urged him to reach for George.
Except that George had seemed quite sure that he didn’t want go down that path with Theo again. If he changed his mind, he would have to be the one to say so.
Now, their encounter at Redford’s felt almost like a dream. When Theo thought of how George’s warm body had felt that night, lying back against his own, he wondered if perhaps he'd imagined it. The memory felt almost too perfect to be real. Which was ridiculous given how little they had done, really. Just touching one another with their hands, half-clothed the whole time.
So why had it felt so… momentous?
Perhaps it was because it had been George’s first time with another man, though why that should matter to Theo he couldn’t say. His mind kept returning to that moment when he’d gently nudged George’s hand off his own cock—“I’ll tend to you”—and the way George had moaned. It had been a moment of helpless surrender, instinctive and natural. George had been so perfectly trusting, giving himself up unquestioningly to the pleasure Theo offered him.
And God but Theo wished he could stop thinking about it.
It was, he decided, past time they turned in. Throwing back the last of his wine, he got to his feet. “We should get to bed,” he said. “We need to make an early start tomorrow.”
“Must we?” George said, pouting a little. His lower lip was full and sulky, but his gaze was merry and he was so appealing, Theo nearly groaned aloud.
Instead, he said briskly, “Yes, we must. Anyway, aren’t you exhausted?”
