Jack pretended to consider that as he went to drop his cufflinks and collar on the dresser.
“To be frank, I think it’d give me a prick I could hammer nails with.”
Alan choked on laughter and his posture relaxed. He crossed to where Jack stood, treading hearts and diamonds underfoot, and looked up at him from a close distance.
“Well, don’t hold your breath. I don’t want to share this with anyone else yet.” It could have been a sweet statement, but for his hand landing deliberately on Jack’s prick. Jack’s breath caught. Heat swelled between his legs as Alan squeezed and rubbed.
“Hm,” said Alan. “Couldn’t hammer a thing with it yet, but you might raise a bruise.”
Rising desire sent Jack’s hand to Alan’s nape, where he dug a fingernail in hard and watched Alan’s pupils swell. He wanted to take his teeth to Alan’s neck. To suck at that night-rough skin. Raise a bruise. God, yes.
The vision of Alan brimming with channeled magic, tense and unconscious with pain, swept across his mind unbidden. Jack forced himself to drop his hand and gather some damned unselfishness.
“It’s been a long day. You should rest.”
“Rest?” Alan took a step back, sharply exasperated. “I swallowed a glass of punch to keep me awake until sunrise, like the rest of you. I’ve no idea if I managed to let it work—bloody felt like it did, but that could have been the nerves. Or the small fact of slitting a man’s throat.” His voice thinned. “And then whatever you did to me made me wake up feeling better rested than I have in years. I could climb five hills, or write ten articles without stopping, or ride you ragged and then suck you until you were hard enough to have me again.”
Jack crept a fair way further towards nail-hammering territory.
“So that’s where I’m standing, Lord Hawthorn. If you want rest, you can bloody well say that.” The tightness of Alan’s eyes softened. His accent tumbled downhill in a way that sounded self-mocking. “I like you masterful in the bedroom, m’lord, but you needn’t be ready to turn it on at any moment. I don’t need you to want me every second of the day.”
“I do,” said Jack. “I want you so much it makes me useless.” It was not even close to what he’d meant to say, but he didn’t care. “I could fuck you three times a day and wouldn’t feel I’ve caught up for a full year.”
Alan’s mouth and eyes found a smile of pure, startled pleasure. Perhaps this was what he’d looked like when he’d received Jack’s letter to the Roman. So much of what they said to each other hid beneath sarcasm, as if the truth had to slither around a secret-bind. Jack enjoyed that. But he also enjoyed this: the look of Alan surprised by unadorned compliment.
“So,” said Alan. “Now we’re on the same page and all. Tell me more about these unspeakable acts the heir to the estate has in mind.”
Jack took his leisurely time inspecting Alan, down to the toes and back up again. “I’ve changed my mind. You look more like a pirate than a maid in that getup.”
“Exploits of a Cabin Boy?” Alan’s teeth flashed. “That one sold well, I’m told. Not surprised you fancy the idea. The ruthless captain, summoning me whenever you’ve an itch to scratch, having me bent over a barrel with the rest of the crew watching me squirm…”
The challenge was there, full of laughter. Jack took hold of Alan’s black shirt and dragged him close. He let his palms sweep down Alan’s sides, past his hips, a little way down the tight cling of the breeches on those lean legs, letting the feel of them suggest the next possibility. “Or perhaps you’re an insolent groom who needs to be taken for a thorough ride in the stables.”
Alan scoffed. He kept his arms at his sides, but his groin swayed against Jack’s for a spark-inducing moment. “A ride. I see. You don’t want to do the work. Lazy toff.”
“You’re the one who said the words ride you ragged.”
“Alliteration gets you hard. I’ll remember that.”
Jack delivered a light, warning slap to Alan’s arse. More taunting space appeared between Alan’s lips. His eyes were so dark, Jack could dissolve in them.
“Speaking of lazy,” said Jack. “Last time, if I recall, you just lay there. Given you’re so well rested, it’s your turn to put some effort into it.”
Jack’s body was at an urgent hum that interfered with his sense of time. Maybe they lingered over undressing; maybe it was less than a minute before their clothes were on the floor. Maybe he remembered going to the dresser in search of the lotion they’d used last time; maybe he blinked and found himself lying flat and bare on the bed, with the pot miraculously in Alan’s hand where he sat, equally nude, astride Jack’s thighs.
Jack gazed at him, covetous. That smooth olive skin. Those startling dense patches of black hair—at his armpits, trailing down from his navel, and thickly gathered above his cock—that Jack wanted, deliriously, to shove his face against.
He didn’t. He lay where he was and hissed when Alan, pen-calloused fingers lightly slicked, shifted forward so that he was holding their two pricks aligned together.
“I have a theory,” said Alan, remarkably steady, “about the air in this place. Or perhaps it’s the water. Everything that grows here is unreasonably large.”
More sparks of heat shot through Jack’s belly. Only Alan’s fingers were moving, sliding and teasing with the lack of real friction, but the sheer sight of Alan’s cock growing to full hardness against his own was devastating. Jack put his hands on Alan’s thighs to stop himself from grabbing hold of their lengths himself and forcing a faster pace.
“Unreasonably.” Black gravel filled his voice. “Is that so?”
“A man could feel inferior,” said Alan, not sounding like he meant it in the slightest.
Jack swallowed three different comments about the inferior classes and gave Alan’s own cock a considering look. His stomach muscles tensed and jumped with need.
“Do you think I give a damn for how you feel? That pretty prick of yours is mine, too, now. You brought it out for me, and you’re showing it off for me. Isn’t that right?”
Alan’s weight shifted with clear embarrassment. He muttered, “Yes.”
“I didn’t hear that.”
A sparkling glare. Alan’s fingers tightened for an agonisingly brief second. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good boy,” Jack said, squeezing his arse hard in return. “I intend to inspect my property more closely, then.”
He pulled. Alan moved forward up Jack’s body easily enough but didn’t realise what Jack had in mind until his cock was nearly touching Jack’s chin.
Then, gratifyingly, he made a cut-off sound—“Ah.”
This wasn’t the first prick that Jack had taken between his lips, though the act wasn’t one he’d ever had—well. A particular taste for.
But now, hearing the way Alan’s breath changed to needy, rough bursts, and feeling the way Alan’s thighs tensed and trembled beneath his hands … yes, perhaps he could learn to like this a great deal. The lotion tasted of nothing but a faint oiliness that disappeared quickly, and Alan’s cock was a smooth, obedient weight in Jack’s mouth. Jack, made ambitious by sheer lust, managed for a few wild seconds to take him deeper, and buried his nose in those black curls until the dense scent of Alan’s body made his head whirl with arousal.