For Saxton, the end of the working night arrived with a whimper, not a bang, a series of uncomplicated mating blessings and a property-line dispute that was easily adjudicated by the King capping off eight hours of same. As he entered his office in the staff hall and put his folders and his mostly used-up yellow pad on the partner’s desk, he stared at his laptop, his orderly-everything, his pens in their little holder.
Rubbing his eyes, he tried to mentally compile a list of what he had to get in order before he could go home.
And pretty much failed at the task.
His head had functioned fairly well when he’d been engaging with the King and the citizens. Now that there was no overriding imperative to focus on, he couldn’t seem to gather the cognitive reins, his thoughts bouncing from one thing to another.
Actually, that wasn’t entirely true.
Ruhn was the prevailing topic. And the particulars were whether Saxton was remembering their kiss…or the flecks of chocolate in those pale brown eyes…or the feel of those strong shoulders. Or the fact that he just wanted to do it again.
Unfortunately, what he really needed was to train his brain on the fact that the male had left without saying a thing. Which was hardly a volunteer for a repeat.
On that note, he slipped his hand into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and took out his phone. Nope. No texts, no calls.
Okay, that would be no calls, given that Ruhn wouldn’t be able to text.
And honestly, the fact that Saxton was as let down as he was seemed ridiculous. He didn’t know that male but as a mere acquaintance, and he had certainly had full-on sex with people he had gone on to either not see again or not hook up with again and all that was fine. He was also self-aware enough to realize that with Ruhn’s retreat, he had been reminded of another departure, one far more serious and consequential.
Naturally, all roads led back to Blay.
“Forgive me for intruding, sire?”
At the soft inquiry, he turned to the open doorway. One of the doggen who serviced the house was standing with her wool coat on and her hat and scarf in her hands.
“Oh, no worries, Meliz.” He made sure he smiled at her so she didn’t mistake his mood for a dissatisfied commentary on her efforts. “Are you off, then?”
She bowed low. “Yes, sire. I will restock the pantry after I aid the others at Last Meal back at the big house. Everyone else has departed for the day and I have made sure the fires are out, the flues are shut, and the doors are locked.”
“Well done, then. Thank you. I shall see you on the morrow.”
The doggen bowed even lower. “It is my pleasure to be of service.”
She took her leave, and a moment later, he heard the alarm system chime that there was a door that opened and shut.
Right. He had to get things organized here. And then…
Well, home, he supposed. It was around four a.m., and even though there were still two hours of darkness left, he did not fancy a trip out into the city’s nightlife. And no, he wasn’t interested in filling the day with another sex-as-gym-equipment workout, either.
Somehow, though, the idea that he was going to be stuck in that glass box in the sky, all the drapes drawn against even the winter’s anemic sun, made him want to scream—
Someone was outside.
Standing in the snow. Watching him.
Saxton turned to the glass panes and instantly recognized the huge body, the tense stance, the dark hair that was teased by the cold wind.
Not knowing what else to do, he pointed to the right, in the direction of the kitchen and its back door.
In response, Ruhn nodded and started for the rear of the house through the snow.
With quick feet and a faster heart, Saxton made his way down the staff hall, past the pantries, and into the vast kitchen. He opened the back door immediately, that signal going off once again, and he listened as the heavy footfalls squeaked and crunched through the snowpack.
And there he was, bigger than ever, more reserved than usual.
Ah, yes. The re-framing conversation. “Do come in,” Saxton said remotely.
As the male entered, Saxton closed things back up and wished that Ruhn was literate—because then this could have been done over text: That was a mistake. It’s not you, it’s me. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please do not tell anyone.
“Worry not, no one else is here,” Saxton muttered as he noticed that the sugar tin was ever so slightly out of place by the stove. “So whatever you’d like to say can be done without risk of eavesdropping.”
He went across and righted the corners of the metal box. Then he fussed with the flour container, which was even bigger. Also scooted over the smallest of the three, the one that had salt in it.
When he turned back around, he was sick and tired of waiting for the other male to speak.
Trying to keep his frustration out of nuclear territory, he clapped his hands together and got with the program. “Look, I’ll just dub in the words, okay? I’ve had a long night, I’m tired, and as much as I respect your journey or your exploration or whatever it is called, I think we can save us both time and aggravation by stipulating that you tried it, you were not into it, and you need some reassurance that I meant what I said about keeping things private.”
“That is not why I came.”
Work, then. Of course. “What of Minnie now?”
In lieu of a reply, Ruhn walked forward…and it was about when he was halfway across the distance that separated them that Saxton realized…
The male was aroused.
Very aroused.
Ruhn had not come here for a never-again, but rather for some-more.
Saxton’s body responded instantly, his blood rushing, his cock hardening, his annoyance, frustration, and exhaustion instantly evaporating.
As the other male came to a halt with mere inches between their faces, Saxton had to smile a little. “I guess I read this wrong, huh.”
“Yes,” came the growl. “You did.”
Holy from-out-of-nowhere.
Ruhn took hold of Saxton by either side of the throat and yanked him forward, the male’s kiss nothing tentative or shy, nothing experimental. It was full on, tongue pushing inside, that big body thrusting hips and an erection the size of a baseball bat into Saxton and forcing him back against the countertop.
Oh…my God. It was a case of hang on for dear life as he was devoured, the power and hunger in Ruhn the kind of thing that was as shocking as it was unexpected and undeniable—
And then Saxton was spun around and bent over, a rough hand forcing him down by the shoulder blades onto the counter.
As Ruhn ground his cock into Saxton’s ass, the male said in a guttural voice, “Say no now. If you’re going to, say it now.”
Saxton turned his head to the side, his cheek squeaking over the granite. Opening his mouth, he began to pant.
“Don’t stop. Oh, God…do it.”
All at once, the lights in the kitchen went out, the space plunged into darkness as Ruhn clearly willed it so. The hands that went for Saxton’s fly were rough with impatience—and then his fine loose slacks were hitting the floor. A blunt head probed and then Ruhn spit into his own palm—
The possession was hard and very deep.
The ride was a pounding to the point of violence.
The orgasm that poured into him was soul shattering for them both.
And Ruhn did not stop. He shoved a hand under Saxton’s chest and locked a hold on the front of his opposite shoulder. Then the male steadied his stance and pistoned, their lower bodies slapping together, Saxton’s head banging into those metal canisters, something getting torn—his suit jacket. Throwing out a hand, he put his palm against the wall under the cabinets just so he didn’t end up with a concussion—and then he searched for purchase with his other hand.
He didn’t find it, his arm flapping around.
Thank God he had something underneath his torso or his legs, which were now loose as satin ribbons, would have gone out from him.
Except then he located something to hold on to. Reaching between his thighs, he gripped his erection and instantly came, his sure strokes throwing him over the brink. He didn’t care where he was ejaculating or how much cleanup was going to be required.
When you were having the sex of your life, the aftermath was not what you concerned yourself with.
Ruhn finally collapsed on Saxton’s back—after God only knew how many orgasms. And yet even though he stilled, there was no silence. He was panting so hard that his front teeth were whistling, and beneath him, Saxton was nothing but harsh inhales as well. The scent of sex was thick in the air, and his cock, which was still hard as a rock as it twitched inside of the male, seemed to be suggesting this was a pause, not an all-finished.
With a groan, he opened his eyes. Across the way, the oak table with its orderly lineup of chairs pressed into its flanks was a surprise.
Where were they—oh, right. The kitchen. In the Audience House.
He had come in the back. So he could come…in the back.
Okay, that was the worst joke he’d ever thought up. And by the way…dearest Virgin Scribe. What had he done here?
Putting his palms on the granite countertop on either side of Saxton’s shoulders, he intended to push himself up and off, but that went nowhere fast. He was too exhausted, and it felt too good to leave.
The male felt too good to leave.
As he tried to find the energy—and the will—to disengage, he thought of the other times he’d had sex. They had been exclusively with females, and only during his previous life. The encounters had been because he had been sought out by those wanting to be with an animal, and he had been provided to them for that specific service. His body had performed because of the timing of it all and because they had been naked and on him and his cock had risen to the occasion.
But he had never chosen them.
Saxton…he had chosen.
“I’m sorry,” he said roughly as he summoned movement unto his arms. “I…am very sorry.”
With a lithe twist, Saxton looked up at him. “Why in the world would you apologize for that?”
Ruhn felt a blush burn his face, and then he was ducking that direct stare and retracting. The air was cold on his arousal, and as he looked down, he was struck by an overwhelming need to do this all again. He had left a slick mess behind, but it was…the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
Yet what did they do now? he wondered as he did up his jeans. That initial drive sated, he now couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to be so aggressive, so wanton, so—
Saxton straightened and pivoted around.
Fates, that face, those eyes, that hair…that erection, which seemed both a foreign and a familiar anatomy. Ruhn had never seen an aroused male up close before—and he was struck by an insatiable need to explore with touch and taste.
Indeed, this male was the answer to the “why.”
“I ripped your suit,” Ruhn said as he focused on the torn shoulder socket. “I am so sorry. I will pay to—”
Saxton reached over, grabbed the lower part of the sleeve—and yanked it clean off. As he dropped the cloth to the floor, he smiled. “Would you like to work on the other side?”
Ruhn laughed. He couldn’t help it—and then he covered up his front teeth with his hand out of shyness. As Saxton grinned back at him, he had to look away. It was just too much beauty, too much excitement…too much everything.
“Have you eaten?” the solicitor asked as he reached down and pulled his slacks back into place.
“No, I have not.”
“Let me make us Last Meal.” Saxton passed a hand around the kitchen. “We are well stocked here. I will just excuse myself for a moment upstairs.”
As Ruhn hesitated, Saxton took his face in his hands, and urged him down to the male’s mouth. The kiss was as sweet as the sex had been possessive.
“I have to go to Mistress Miniahna’s,” Ruhn heard himself say. “To check on her before the dawn comes.”
“All right, I understand.” Saxton took a step back, a reserve tightening his features. “I shall see you at nightfall, then. We need to pay a visit to those real estate developers.”
“Good.”
There was an awkward silence. And then Ruhn blurted, “When?”
Saxton exhaled as if he were changing tracks in his head with effort. “Ah, let’s say five forty-five. End of business for them, dark enough for us. We’ll need to take your truck—”
“I mean us. When can we…do this again?”
Saxton’s smile was quick and sustaining. “Anytime you like.”
Ruhn reached up and brushed the male’s face with his knuckles…before running his forefinger across that lower lip. Flashes of what they had just done replayed with a soundtrack of their moans and gasps.
“Thank you,” he said.
Saxton shook his head. “I rather think I’m the one who should be saying that.”
No, Ruhn thought. Not at all.
He leaned in and kissed the male. As his blood began to stir, he knew he had to go—or he was liable to never, ever leave.
“It is I who am grateful to you,” he whispered against those lips.