Chapter Two

?

“B ut . . . I-I . . .” Looking about the bedchamber, anywhere but into Michael’s piercing blue-gray eyes, Percy rolled one shoulder, the pop and crack of his joints echoing in the quiet room.

He couldn’t possibly ask for what he wanted. He needed to follow Michael’s commands—Michael’s voice, Michael’s hands, Michael’s body’s desires. Then he wouldn’t have to think about what he was doing. He could let go, give in to that wicked part of him, and simply follow and feel.

“It’s only the two of us, Percy. No one else will hear you but me.”

He nodded, a quick jerk of his head. Of course he knew that. Michael always dismissed his servants for the night before he arrived. The footman and maid gone, the drapes drawn to hide their illicit activities from innocent eyes.

A large hand touched his upper arm. Nerves strung so tight he couldn’t stop the flinch from seizing his muscles.

“It’s all right.” Low and gentle, Michael’s voice barely registered above the pounding in his ears. “Will you look at me, please?”

With effort, he pulled his attention from the large four-poster bed. He wanted to be there, with Michael. Wanted Michael’s weight covering him. Needed the press of his skin against his own. He did not want to be here, Michael a good foot away and gazing at him with what could only be true concern.

At least it wasn’t disappointment. He should count himself fortunate in that.

“Why? Why do I have to ask tonight?” The question popped out of his mouth before he could give it any consideration.

“Because I like hearing your voice. Because it’s good to ask for what you want. Because I want to discover what you prefer above all else. And you don’t have to ask. I would never force you to do anything you don’t wish to do. You do know that, Percy, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Michael might stuff him full with the fattest dildo in his trunk, bind him with fifty knots, keep him on the razor-sharp cusp of a climax for what seemed like hours, yet he always felt safe in his hands. Hell, he felt safer with Michael than he’d ever felt with another.

“Will you tell me why you’re reluctant?” Michael rubbed his hand along Percy’s arm. “Why the notion of asking unsettles you so?”

He concentrated on the soothing drag of Michael’s palm, the way the warmth of Michael’s hand penetrated his muscles. The frantic beats of his heart began to lessen. His eyes drifted shut. “Because I shouldn’t want those things.” His lips barely moved. The words barely made their way out of his mouth. Yet the brief pause of those lulling drags indicated Michael had heard him well enough.

“What things?”

“Everything. All that you do to me while we are in this room.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one needed to tell me. It’s bad enough that I allow you to do those things to me. That I want them.” Oh God , how he wanted them. “I can’t . . .” A wince squeezed his eyes closed tighter. “I can’t . . . ask.”

“Yes, you can.” Fingertips lifted his chin. “Yes, you can, Percy.”

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. Slowly, as if fearing what he would find. But he knew exactly what he’d find. The low, comforting baritone of Michael’s voice had painted the picture in his mind before Percy’s lashes had even begun to sweep up. Michael, so calm and strong, the patience that always seemed to lurk in the depths of his eyes now filling his gaze.

“When we are together, nothing is wrong. Nothing is forbidden, as long as we both want it.”

“But it’s—”

“Yes, what we do is against the law, but we aren’t inflicting harm on anyone. The torment you impose on yourself, it’s not necessary. Believe me, it’s unnecessary,” Michael stressed, his eyes boring into Percy’s, demanding he believe him. “If you can trust me in anything, trust me in this. A bit of discretion—all right, more than a bit—is all that’s needed.”

“I do trust you. But it’s not just that we are both men. I know sodomy is against the law, I know we need to be discreet. It’s unnatural to want another man, but if that was all I wanted, then . . .” He gave his head a shake, dislodging Michael’s grip on his chin, and dropped his gaze to his feet. A year ago, he’d come to terms with his preference for men. He wouldn’t go so far as to label it acceptance , but he had at least stopped fighting that particular desire. “But that’s not all I want. Surely there is something wrong with me if I want so desperately to do as bid. If I want so desperately for you to use everything in that trunk on me.”

Silence filled the room, pressed against his ears. Unable to remain still, Percy shifted his weight, suddenly acutely aware he was naked as the day he was born, his now soft cock dangling between his legs. Whereas Michael, save for his coat, was fully clothed, complete with a neatly tied cravat and a fob chain attached to his iron-gray waistcoat.

“You have been with other men before, correct?”

“Yes. A few,” he added, not wanting Michael to think he bent over for just anyone who would have him. Not that there were many who had wanted him.

His attention fixed on his bare feet, he sensed rather than saw Michael’s nod.

“Have you ever been with someone like me? Someone with more eccentric tastes in the bedchamber, who enjoys dominating another man?”

“No.” Until he’d met Michael, the wickedest thing he’d done was allow another to bugger him. But Michael had an uncanny ability to pluck his deepest, darkest desires from the bottom of his depraved soul and present them to him wrapped in a neat leather bow, so to speak. Hell, after being with Michael, now just the scent of leather could get him aroused.

Michael let out a sigh.

Percy fought back the cringe. That sigh had sounded so . . . disappointed. His muscles drew even tighter, bracing for the next words from Michael’s mouth. Bracing for the request to leave Michael’s house and never return again.

“You have my apologies.”

Apologies?

Why in God’s name was Michael apologizing to him?

Michael let out another one of those disappointed sighs. “I suspected, and I should have taken a moment to have a discussion with you before now. Percy, there is nothing wrong with you. Some men prefer to submit to another. Having such an inclination is not wrong, and in case you believe thus, it does not make you weak, either. It takes great strength to give up control.”

Great strength? An absolutely ridiculous notion. Now Michael was pandering to him. Brilliant.

“Will you tell me what’s going through that head of yours, what’s causing that frown?”

He pulled his attention from his feet, met Michael’s gaze. “Men are supposed to be strong, to take what they want, to crave power and status and distinguish themselves in the world.”

“They are supposed to want to be barristers, for example?”

“Yes. They’re supposed to be like you. Well, you’re not a barrister, but that point matters not. You say it takes strength to give up control, but it doesn’t. It’s easy.” He knew that for a fact. Nothing Michael could say could change it.

“For you, perhaps. But not for everyone. I can’t give up control the way you do. Just the thought of allowing another to restrain me?” Michael shook his head, his dark eyebrows drawing together, as if the mere suggestion made him want to lurch back in protest. “And it’s not because I think others would look on me as weak or believe me wrong for wanting such a thing. Rather it’s outside my abilities. When you give yourself over to me, I can’t help but feel more than a bit of awe because it is something I could never do.” Michael took a half-step closer, cupped Percy’s shoulder with one large hand. “Strength takes many forms. The strongest of us are those who own our desires, both inside the bedchamber and outside of it. What we do in this room is not wrong. Having a need to submit to another is not wrong. Giving voice to your needs is most assuredly not wrong.”

He couldn’t deny that Michael’s argument held some logical sense, though it sounded more like Michael was talking about having confidence in oneself. He wasn’t convinced submitting made one strong. He definitely would need time to thoroughly think that one through.

“Percy, there is nothing more natural in all the world than to indulge your desires with someone, whatever those desires may be. All that matters is that we both enjoy our time together. And I do so enjoy our time together.”

At a loss for what to say, Percy nodded.

“Have I eased your mind at all?” Michael asked with a fair hint of uncertainty, as though he truly, honestly cared about Percy’s answer. As if he cared about him .

He swept his gaze over Michael’s face, over his strong, handsome features. The worry creating a crease between his brows, the tension in his jaw, the slightly fuller bottom lip compressed by the lines bracketing his mouth. And it occurred to him. He, Percy, had the power to ease Michael’s mind. His answer alone would do the trick because Michael cared for him. Cared enough to want him to be free of the burden of shame and guilt whenever he stepped out of this room.

Michael did not need to care. The last three months were proof alone a clear conscience was not a requirement for Percy to suck Michael’s cock or bend over on command. Yet . . .

If he said no, he knew in his bones Michael would put a stop to their evening. Would not allow them to proceed again until Percy could answer in the affirmative.

Michael well and truly cared for him. Why exactly, Percy hadn’t a notion. But he could refute it no longer.

He gave himself a moment to allow that astounding fact to sink in.

And since that was indeed the truth, Michael would not lie to him. Would not say whatever Percy needed to hear. Michael actually believed there was nothing at all wrong with him. Hell, he’d encouraged Percy to own his desires. Had all but commanded him to not be ashamed of them.

“It still feels . . . wicked.” The sound of his own voice echoed in his ears, startling him.

Had he said that out loud?

Bowing his head, Michael leaned closer, breaching the half foot of distance between them. Warm breath fanned Percy’s neck. “Yes. But that’s part of what makes our nights so enjoyable,” he whispered into Percy’s ear, as if it were a scandalous secret only the two of them shared.

. . . Our nights . . . They were their nights—his and Michael’s. No one else’s. Therefore whatever they chose to do together could not be wrong.

A sense of calm settled over him, and at the same time, he felt somehow lighter.

“Yes, you’ve eased my mind.”

He felt Michael smile against his ear. “Thank you.” Then Michael straightened, though his hand remained on Percy’s shoulder. Steady and comforting. “Now back to the original question. Do you want to try asking, or shall we attempt that some other time? The choice is yours completely.”

Michael had asked for Percy’s voice as a kind of gift, and not just any gift, but a Christmas gift. He should at least try. If he was going to own his desires, there was no better way to start, after all.

He took a deep breath, gathered his courage. “All right. I’ll give it a go. But if . . . I . . .”

“You can stop at any time,” Michael said, filling in the void. “And if you do, the evening does not have to stop if you do not wish it. We can continue on as we have in the past.”

Reassured, Percy nodded.

But what to ask for?

Given he and Michael had spent a good number of nights together, Percy was rather intimately acquainted with the options available to him. And there were a lot. Too many.

Clearing his throat, Percy briefly glanced to the floorboards beneath his feet, as if they held the answer.

Not a bit of help at all.

Well, he could follow Michael’s example. He was good at following.

“Will you kiss me?” Oh hell. Was that his voice? He sounded like a meek, uncertain miss.

A warm smile curved Michael’s mouth. One of those rare ones that made Percy want to snuggle up to the man’s side. “It would be my pleasure.”

Michael’s hand slid down his arm, curved around to rest at the small of his back. Michael had kissed him countless times and on countless places on his body, yet this . . . this was so very different. Anticipation rushed through his veins, backed by a heavy measure of . . . nervousness? Need? He wasn’t quite certain. Michael’s dark lashes swept down as he leaned in to press a kiss to Percy’s lips. A soft, slow kiss. Light and gentle. A mirror image of the one Percy had given him.

Needing more, he wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck, pressed up against the solid bulk of his muscles, rubbed his bare skin against Michael’s clothed body. Yet Michael kept the kiss frustratingly slow.

“Harder, please,” he whispered against Michael’s lips.

A low growl rumbled around him. Slanting his lips over Percy’s, Michael deepened the kiss, claimed his mouth. Tongue delving deep, possessing him. Doing exactly as Percy had asked.

The concept of merely asking and receiving was . . . well, bloody damned brilliant.

Percy clung to Michael’s neck, surrendered to the strength and the power of Michael’s kiss. Of Michael himself.

The hand on his back splayed, coasted down to grab his arse, hauling him even closer. The hard arch of Michael’s cock nudged his lower belly, the soft wool of his trousers tickling Percy’s skin. His head swam with lust, with need, with a craving for more, so potent and thick.

Then Michael’s lips left his, the heat of his body gone.

Percy blinked his eyes open to find Michael gazing down at him. The man arched one dark brow.

Oh, yes. He was in charge of orchestrating the night’s events.

He licked his lips, savored the taste of Michael that lingered there. What to ask for next?

His brain felt clunky and slow, his senses still awash with the force of Michael’s kiss. Yet some part of his mind knew exactly what he wanted, for his attention went directly to the placket of Michael’s trousers and the blatant erection the soft black wool could not conceal.

* * *

T he raw hunger in Percy’s gaze was like a physical force. Michael’s cock hardened even further, straining against the confines of his trousers. Percy’s tongue darted out again to swipe across his bottom lip.

Having to stand idle, even though it was a situation of his own construction, was turning out to be more difficult than he could have foreseen. He kept a firm hold on his patience, kept his mouth shut and his arms at his sides. It wouldn’t do to rush Percy, and he would not learn exactly what Percy preferred above all else if he nudged him in certain directions. For example, a direction that would get that amazing, talented, and above all eager mouth onto his body.

Another swipe of that pink tongue across Percy’s lip.

Patience.

Hungry hazel eyes met his. “Tell me to suck your cock.” A blush rushed up Percy’s neck, staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears, yet Percy kept his gaze locked with Michael’s.

Pride swelled within his chest. It was all Michael could do to keep the grin from his lips. He schooled his features into a hard mask of command, dropped his voice to a low rumble. “Get on your knees and suck my cock, Percival.”

The light brown fan of Percy’s lashes fluttered briefly, and a little smile of absolute contentment curved his mouth. It was as if he melted down to his knees, the motion seamless perfection. And it didn’t escape Michael’s notice that Percy hadn’t asked him to do something to him. Rather the opposite.

I want so desperately to do as bid. Percy’s earlier words sounded in his head.

Perhaps it wasn’t just the act of submitting, but the act of serving, of fulfilling Michael’s desires, whatever they may be, that called to Percy’s soul. It made sense. Percy preferred to serve in his position of employment, after all.

Percy’s light brown forelock fell over his brow as his nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on the placket of Michael’s trousers. A warm hand reached inside, wrapped around Michael’s length, and pulled it free.

Intent on the task given to him, Percy did not glance up once. He leaned forward, his lips parting, his tongue darting out to swipe the bead of fluid from the head of Michael’s cock. A content smile flittered across his lips again, and then he opened his mouth wide. Soft lips slid over the crown, down his length, until they touched Percy’s fingers still wrapped around the base.

Michael reached out a hand, threaded his fingers into Percy’s hair, palmed the back of his skull. Percy’s light brown lashes drifted down to rest on his flushed cheekbones, then he began serving Michael in earnest.

Satisfying suction and wet, slick heat. The firm grip of his fist pumping in counterpoint to the strokes of his mouth. Percy truly had an amazing mouth. And tongue. Each pull back was accompanied with a flick across the crown that sent a jolt straight to Michael’s ballocks.

The delightfully crude sound of Percy sucking his cock filled the bedchamber. Percy’s deep breaths fanned his groin. Hot, thick pleasure coiled slowly down Michael’s spine. He was torn between the need to tip his head back, close his eyes, give himself up to the decadent sensations, and the need to keep his gaze pinned on the beautiful sight before him.

A sight that had captivated him since their first night together. It was meant to have been a simple affair. A shared drink in his study, a bit of conversation, a nudge or two to confirm his suspicion Percy preferred men. But Percy had been so nervous, yet at the same time so obviously attracted to him, that Michael had thrown his intentions into the hearth and followed his instincts. “Get on your knees and suck my cock.” He had sworn then that Percy had sighed in gratitude as he’d promptly done as commanded.

The suction intensified around his length, jolting his thoughts to the present. Percy didn’t quicken his pace, but Michael felt the change acutely. The increase in determination. The heightened resolve behind each stroke. Percy’s free hand, resting on Michael’s thigh, flexed and tightened, as if resisting the urge to reach down and stroke his own leaking prick. The orgasm that had been hovering quite pleasantly at the edges of Michael’s senses began to barrel down upon him.

He cupped Percy’s jaw, tapped the pad of his thumb against his hollowed cheek. The light touch was a stark contrast to his tone. “Mind, Percival. I told you to suck my cock, not bring me to climax.”

The intense suction instantly lessened. A few long luscious strokes more, and Percy eased back, Michael’s cock slipping free of his mouth, his fingers releasing Michael’s length.

Percy rocked back to rest his arse on his calves, his prick so hard it arched up to brush his lower belly. Head bowed and arms at his sides, he seemed satisfied to wait for Michael’s next command. As if he wanted the next command to come from Michael.

While Michael wanted to learn what else Percy truly preferred above all in the bedchamber, perhaps the time had come for him to take back full control of the evening. Percy had asked for a kiss, voiced his desire for Michael to deepen said kiss, and told Michael to tell him to suck his cock. Three requests, when not a quarter of an hour ago, Michael had feared he would not be able to pull even one from Percy.

He opened his mouth, the command for Percy to get onto the bed on the tip of his tongue.

Percy glanced up through the fan of his lashes, caught Michael’s eye. “Tell me to lick your arse.”

Naughty, brave man. Hell, how Michael adored him.

“Percival Joseph Owens, I want you to lick my arse.”

A visible shudder went through Percy, his breath catching. “Yes, Michael.” He reached for the waistband of Michael’s trousers hanging on his hips, tugged the garment down to his calves. One foot at a time, he removed Michael’s shoes, pulled the trousers free of his feet. Then he stood.

Michael waited for him to fold the trousers, place them on the chest of drawers, and tuck the shoes beneath. The man was so tidy. A trait Michael could appreciate, though right now, the trousers could remain strewn across the floorboards for all he cared. Too impatient to wait a moment longer, he made to tug on the knot of his cravat.

“Leave it on,” Percy said, with a glance over his shoulder. “For now, please.”

He wanted him partially clothed? Oh, he definitely possessed a wicked streak that rivaled Michael’s own.

As Percy turned from the chest of drawers, Michael caught him by the upper arm. Pulled Percy to him. Slanted his mouth over those plumped, reddened, wet lips, needing to taste them again.

He coasted his hands down Percy’s back, the skin as smooth as crushed velvet. Percy sagged against him, his innate need to submit rendering him almost boneless. Michael couldn’t help but marvel at the man in his arms as he swept his tongue inside Percy’s delectable mouth. Percy might believe otherwise, but he possessed a strength, a purity of soul, that called to Michael’s own on a level he’d never felt with another.

Through sheer force of will, Michael broke the kiss and released Percy. “Now get to work.” He turned toward the foot of the bed and bent at the waist, resting his elbows on the edge of the mattress. “And I expect nothing less than your best effort.”

Cool air brushed his arse as Percy tucked the tail of his shirt beneath his waistcoat. A creak of the floorboards, then hands palmed his arse cheeks, spread them fully apart. Anticipation soared through Michael. Oh hell , was Percy good at this act. Almost too good. He’d never climaxed from it alone, but Percy had brought him damned close on more than one occasion. Warm breaths brushed against him, then Percy placed a soft, reverent kiss on his hole. Starting with slow licks, he wet the sensitive skin, leaving no spot untouched. Then those slow licks turned to teasing swirls and light flicks.

A groan shook Michael’s chest. Damnation .

Yes, indeed, almost too good.

Widening his stance, Michael arched his back, pushing into Percy’s grip, wanting more of that talented tongue. Fingers clutching Michael’s cheeks, Percy gave it to him and then some. The hot pants of his breaths scorched Michael’s crease as he licked and stabbed, taunting Michael with the tiniest hint of penetration.

The notion nudged hard against his senses. His hole flexed, craving more. Craving the satisfying burn that came from being stretched, opened, stuffed full.

“Stop, Percy.” He looked over his shoulder, caught Percy’s gaze over the curve of his hip. “Fetch the hollow steel plug from the trunk.” With enough width, and lighter than solid steel or marble, that particular plug would stay firmly in place regardless of what activities came next.

Hazel eyes flared. A swipe of his forearm across his wet mouth, then Percy nodded, quick and eager. The next moment, he was bent over before the trunk, putting his arse on display. Michael let out a grunt. Soft yet firm and oh so plentiful, the man had an arse designed to be buggered and spanked.

The plug in one hand, Percy returned to stand at his place behind Michael. His flushed chest worked under the force of his quick breaths. Not from nervousness or trepidation. The excited spark in his eyes said all too clearly he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Michael flicked his chin toward the plug. “Suck on it.”

Opening his mouth, Percy slipped the length of the plug inside. Hell and damnation, that was a pretty image, Percy’s reddened lips stretched around the steel. Three strokes, and he pulled it free, the surface glistening with moisture.

Michael waited. Let the anticipation ratchet, draw taut, in Percy, in himself. All the while, Percy’s eager gaze remained locked with his. When Michael couldn’t wait another moment, he spoke, his voice barely above a growl.

“Percival, push that plug in my arse.”