Page 18 of Moaning Under the Mistletoe
“Excuse me?”
Oscar let out a shaky breath. “Did it need to be closed so forcefully? What did the door do to you?”
“It’s an old house.”
“Ahh.” His old bedroom door had been like that. Their house by the docks had slowly been sinking toward the Thames and he’d ended up taking the door off, shaving one edge to make it fit again, but it had a big triangular gap at the bottom. He used to stuff an old blanket in the gap in winter to cut down the chill breeze that waltzed through the huge hole. The door in Bennington’s house had no such issues. It fit neatly and evenly into the frame.
“I don’t want to talk about the door.”
“Or talk.” He winked. “You didn’t invite me here to talk.”
“No.” Bennington stood awkwardly, four steps away from Oscar, as if he’d forgotten why he’d invited him to his bedroom. The room was cloaked in darkness with only one small oil lamp on the wall casting out enough light for Oscar to see Bennington, but not his expressions.
“What do you want, Bennington?”
“You.”
“How would you like me?” He cocked one hip, then slowly raised his hands and placed them on his head. Bennington growled and paced towards him, closing the gap. He expected to be told to get on his knees, but instead, Bennington placed his hands on Oscar’s hips and sank to his knees. Heat rushed up his spine, making his scalp prickle, and his cock, previously flagging at half-mast, intimidated by Bennington’s house, stood on command. Ready. Bennington nuzzled at it, and Oscar dropped his hands to open the fall of his trousers and free himself for Bennington. The resulting noise from Bennington was an appreciative moan and groan, but Oscar didn’t have time to enjoy it as Bennington’s lips covered his cock and a thrilling warmth spread through his body focusing down inside his balls. Bennington, a bloody Earl, sucked and savoured him as if he was a special treat, and it took all of Oscar’s efforts to stay upright as his knees softened and his balls tightened. At some point, he’d started to cling onto Bennington’s head, fingers sunk into his soft dark brown hair. And just as he was about to come, Bennington pulled off with a slurp.
“Get on the bed.” The command sent a ripple of fire burning through him and he tried to say yes, but nothing came out, only a soft mewl of consent. Oscar staggered towards the bed, shoving down his pants as he moved, and then he fell onto the covers face first. Just like the first time, Bennington grabbed Oscar’s bare ass cheek with his palm, the slapping sound adding to the sensation of being grabbed. God, he loved this. And when Bennington’s thighs pushed against his and he leaned over him, pressing him hard into the mattress, Oscar shuddered. Perfection. His bare cock rubbed against the fabric of Bennington’s quilt, which would normally be enough to make him come while in this state, but the fabric was so luxurious and soft, it only added to the sense of being surrounded. Like being fucked in a cloud.
“Wait there.” Bennington disappeared, all his delicious weight gone, and Oscar lifted up on his elbows to twist around.
"I said wait."
Oh, he liked that. More heat rushed over his skin. “Trust me, you’ll prefer this.” He quickly stripped off all his clothes, tossing them wherever was easiest, and lay down again, spreading his arms and legs wide. Bennington’s resulting groan rumbled through the room, and Oscar smiled against the impossibly soft blanket. He had only a moment to appreciate it, as Bennington’s oil-slicked hands slid up Oscar’s legs, wiping away the smile, replaced with a gasp. He’d never felt anything like that before and now he craved it. The way Bennington’s calloused oiled palms slipped over his skin was heavenly. Completely erotic. He closed his eyes and sank into the sensation of Bennington’s touch caressing his thighs and ass and lower back. Blissed out and right on the edge. His breath was ragged and he let out a throaty exhale into the bed covers, no longer caring if Bennington heard how far gone he was.
“Oscar. Do you want me?”
He shivered, amazed that Bennington would ask when it was so goddamned obvious from the way he was writhing and groaning and begging. “Yes. Fuck me now.”
Bennington didn’t hesitate. The blunt head of his cock pressed against Oscar’s hole. He arched his spine, already so relaxed that it took barely anything for Bennington to push his oil-slicked cock inside. Bliss was overtaken by the absolute wonder of being filled, and when Bennington slid past that spot inside him, the rush of heat and pleasure was almost too much. Oscar clung to the bed, the soft blankets curled in his fists, and he begged for more.
“Harder. Faster. God, Bennington, you are so good.”
Bennington responded with a huff, and more speed, until the bed hit the wall with regular thuds and Oscar didn’t know what he was saying anymore. Nothing had ever been this amazing in his life; and he wanted it again. And again. Then he remembered that he had agreed to do this for a whole month, and he came with the utter joy of it. Stars filled his vision, and he blamed squeezing them shut for the sudden rush of tears. Bennington shouted out, and came hard, then collapsed onto him.
“Oscar. Please call me Ambrose.” The hoarse whisper sent a final ripple of heat through his body.
“Ambrose.” He was honoured to be allowed Bennington’s first name. “Ambrose.” It was like a dream. How could this possibly be real?
