And the truth, Ephraim had to admit, was rather extraordinary.
Where one might expect to behold a wall of solid muscle, there instead appeared a hollow in Hull’s back. It looked rather like a hole in a fallen tree, broad where it crossed the shoulders and tapering down to a rough point just above where the tail began, with its ragged edges smoothed over by skin and occasional tufts of fur like moss. Within, there appeared only a deeper blue cavern, as though Hull were hollow all the way through—though Ephraim heard him breathe and had felt his heart beat and beheld him move about in a way which required the support of bones he couldn’t see.
Hull turned his head and peered over his own shoulder at Ephraim, so shy he seemed almost coy, to see what he thought of it.
Ephraim had to admit the sight dizzied him somewhat. But in no way did it dissuade him.
“Does it hurt?” Ephraim asked.
“No.” A wry smile curled up one side of Hull’s perfect mouth. “Quite the reverse.”
An intriguing declaration. Ephraim raised a tentative hand. “May I…?”
Hull’s smile broadened. He granted Ephraim a nod.
Ephraim reached into the hollow, careful not to touch anything within, though Hull didn’t seem to fear he’d do any harm. The interior felt cold, like frost seeping in through a window-pane. Rather at odds with the warmth of the rest of Hull, Ephraim thought.
As he withdrew, the back of his hand grazed the rim. A groan of pleasure escaped Hull. The whole hollow seemed to echo with the sound.
Ephraim hardly had time to wonder at it before Hull whirled ‘round and recaptured him in a kiss.
He felt content enough to let Hull steer him backwards towards the bed and to fall on his back as they reached it andallow Hull to loom over him. Discontent arose in his mind, however, as Hull began to work though the knot of his cravat. He knew he didn’t look half so well as Hull. Even as a young man he couldn’t have compared. He’d never had such brawny shoulders, or so slender a waist, or such supple thighs. And time had not improved matters. Ephraim thought of his own body as rather like a candle stub; a fat puddle of tallow drippings with a wilted wick.
Hull, however, didn’t look as though he saw a candle stub. He untied, unbuttoned, unlaced, and peeled back the myriad garments hiding Ephraim’s shame from the world with all the tenderness and wonder of Nature’s own gentle hand unfurling the petals of a rosebud into full bloom. And his desire for Ephraim, given the blown pupils of his dark eyes, the biting of his lip, and the ever-strengthening sapling against and between Ephraim’s thighs, only increased with all he uncovered. When at last he had Ephraim bare before him, his hungry gaze swept over his whole frame for one glorious and ravenous instant—then he swooped down to devour Ephraim with another kiss.
And yet, while Ephraim’s own withered branch stirred more than it ever had in many years, and even managed to overturn a few leaves, it did not grow quite as stout and strong as perhaps it ought.
Ephraim broke off their kiss. To breathe, or so he told himself. Yet his sigh emerged with a frustration he couldn’t disguise.
Hull withdrew at once.
“What’s amiss?” Hull asked, his voice low and tender. The very sound of it strummed Ephraim’s heart-strings.
Still, Ephraim hesitated. “I’m afraid I may rather disappoint you—in performance, if not appearance.”
Yet Hull only smiled. He leaned in close to press a kiss to Ephraim’s throat, which became a trail of kisses up past his jaw, each one more delicious and precious than the last.
“Don’t think on it,” Hull murmured, his warm breath ghosting over Ephraim’s ear and making him shiver. “Just know that whatever may or may not occur, I am content.”
Ephraim wanted so badly to believe him.
Hull kissed him again, their lips meeting in what felt to Ephraim like perfect bliss. Then he dipped lower to his throat, his collar, just above his fluttering heart, down over the swell of his stomach, to the wilted wick beneath.
This he took into his mouth.
Ephraim fell back against the bed-clothes with a shuddering gasp. Warmth had suffused all of Hull’s kisses, but this was another thing altogether—hot and soft and wet and surrounding the very core of him, swallowed down to the hilt. The lips felt as if he were enfolded in silk. The velvet tongue gently lapped at first; then it slid down the shaft to trace the vein on the underside all the way back up until it slipped beneath the foreskin to encircle his cock-head and dwell on the slit at the base of the tip, then back down, washing over him again and again, ceaseless as the sea, relentless as the rippling tides. His hands fisted in the counterpane as, slowly yet surely, and incredibly, Hull raised him to half-mast.
Hull himself had already achieved a full stand. Ephraim recalled how it’d felt against his thigh—hard as adamant and throbbing hot—even if he couldn’t feel it now that their positions had altered. He could, however, see how Hull’s hand fell below his own waist, and how his arm moved as he stroked himself, slow and steady; then faster, more frantic as his mouth drew upon Ephraim; until a moan of unrestrained pleasure rumbled up from his throat to resonate through Ephraim’s cock, and he thrust against the bedclothes as he began to suck Ephraim inearnest, and Ephraim found his own rheumatic hips thrusting into Hull in turn.
And even if Ephraim couldn’t spend—even if all that would come from him was grave-dust and lost hopes—then by Jove, that would be enough.
This resolution had just occurred to him when Hull’s hips stuttered against the mattress, his arm jerked, and a long, low groan reverberated through Ephraim’s cock as Hull finished himself off.
And in the same instant, though Ephraim could hardly believe it, his own prick pulsed to a full stand in Hull’s mouth—then a roaring wave of ecstasy overcame him as he, too, spent; pouring seed in throbbing torrents down his throat, more than he ever knew he had within him, stars appearing in the night sky of his eyes forced shut by the sheer power of it, until he collapsed wrung-out and wrecked into his own bed.
With what little consciousness remained in him, he felt Hull crawl up over him again, and a kiss descended to meet his mouth, the familiar scrape of beard and the soft balm of perfect lips. He tasted himself on Hull’s tongue—and something more, something sweet as honey with the faint hint of elderberry wine. His strength returned.
Ephraim opened his eyes to find his handsome blue clerk in bed beside him, in the midst of twining his arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer until they lay chest-to-chest and the burning embers of Hull’s heart warmed his own. His strong pulse resounded through Ephraim’s own ribs; Ephraim could no longer tell which heartbeat belonged to whom. It hardly seemed to matter.
