Page 27 of The Magpie Lord
Stephen’s back was on the desk, and his feet didn’t reach the floor. Crane leaned on him, bodies pressed close, pinioning his wrists above his head, face dark with anger.
Stephen had, he realised, made a fairly spectacular misjudgement.
“I apologise for that.” He spoke as calmly as possible, trying to ignore the pressure of Crane’s body against his. “It was in the way of an experiment, to see how fast you’d shake it. You’re developing surprisingly rapid resistance to fluence.”
“Perhaps that’s because people keep doing it to me,” said Crane through his teeth.
Stephen’s brows drew together slightly. “I think you may be right, at that. How—”
“No,” said Crane. “I’m asking the questions.”
He was pressing down painfully on Stephen’s wrists, taut body just over Stephen’s, hard and intent and all too close to the night’s imaginings. Stephen swallowed, cursing the betraying rush of blood, wishing he dared shift position.
“This is quite uncomfortable.”
“Good. I remembered what happened last night.”
“Nothing happened,” said Stephen instantly defensive.
“Yes, it did. There was a ghost.”
“Oh—well, yes—”
“But that wasn’t what you had in mind, was it?”
Stephen bit his lip.Control this.“Why don’t you tell me what you think happened last night?”
Crane’s lips drew back in a snarl. “What Ithinkis that I was about to have you right there in the garden. Ithinkyou were about two minutes from being flat on your back in the grass.”
Stephen felt the blood recede from his face.Brilliant, Steph, well played.
“And...” Crane shifted his leg up so that it rubbed against Stephen’s painfully tight groin, ridding him of the admittedly faint hope that Crane hadn’t noticed his arousal. “Ithinkyou’re two minutes from the same thing right now.”
“Oh God,” said Stephen involuntarily. He couldn’t tell if Crane meant it, or what he meant. A dizzying pulse of excitement was making it difficult to think. Crane’s body was hard against him, and he could feel the larger man’s cock, pressing against his stomach. “Listen—”
“Shut the fuck up!” It was a shout, but Crane’s voice moved immediately to a savage purr. “I want to make you pay for that right now, you manipulative little bastard. I want to make you pay, and you know it, and...” His mouth curled, and he shoved his thigh cruelly against Stephen’s erection again. “And you like it. In fact, I suspect there’s nothing you’d like better. Is there?”
Stephen couldn’t speak. Crane’s eyes narrowed. “Well?”
Stephen licked his lips. “What do you want me to say?” His voice sounded breathy in his own ears.
“Tell me why you did that to me last night. And don’t lie to me. I know what you wanted, what you want. So why did you do it?”
He did not want to answer that. “I— It was—”
“You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?”
Stephen shut his eyes. “Briefly.”
Crane lowered his head so his mouth was right on Stephen’s ear, voice vibrating, teeth and tongue touching the sensitive flesh. “When I fuck you, Mr. Day, it will not be briefly. It will be long and hard and extremely thorough. I’m going to takepainswith you.”
Stephen whimpered, helpless to stop himself, tilting his hips so his cock rubbed against Crane’s body. Crane thrust back hard, once, grinned mirthlessly at Stephen’s gasp, and leaned back with a look of victory in his eyes.
“Let’s consider this in the nature of reparations.” He shifted one hand so that it pinioned both of Stephen’s wrists—not hard, a symbolic gesture only, as powerful as any chain—and moved his free hand to his belt.
There was a cruel, humourless twist to his mouth, and the fleeting, hateful resemblance hit Stephen with shocking vividness. A sudden flare of all-consuming rage leapt in his mind, obliterating his arousal. “God damn it, your father ruined mine, your brother assaulted my mother, and you think I’m going to let a Vaudrey have me, here? Get off me!”
He shoved, hard, putting power behind it, but Crane had already let go of his wrists and recoiled from the desk as though Stephen was a poisonous thing. He strode to the window and stood, gripping the frame, staring out.
