Page 41 of The Ruin of a Rake
“Yes,” Courtenay said immediately.
“—then I want to tie you up.”
“I...” Courtenay cleared his throat. “Medlock, I hadn’t seen that coming.”
And that was another thing. “I’ve had it with this Medlock business. I’ll happily call you Courtenay if you like, but for God’s sake call me Julian. Now, are you going to let me tie you up or not?” Julian tried to sound like a man whose mouth hadn’t gone dry at the thought of Courtenay bound up beneath him. “I do recall that you said you liked being manhandled.”
“You remember that.” Courtenay passed a hand over his mouth.
How could he not? “I remember everything.” Julian felt his cheeks heat as he spoke.
“I’ve never done that.” Courtenay rose to stand before Julian. “I mean, I’ve done the tying up, but nobody’s ever offered to return the favor.”
“No time like the present,” Julian said briskly. “The only condition is that you need to tell me what you want.”
“At the moment, I want you to tie me up, damn it. Who knew?” he added under his breath.
“That’s a good start. Now, into the bedroom.”
Julian systematically divested Courtenay of all his clothes, kissing newly exposed skin—a hard shoulder, the dent beside his hip, the inside of an elbow. Julian could have spent all night pressing worshipful kisses to Courtenay’s body, but he had the sense that would not be a new experience for Courtenay. He pushed Courtenay flat onto the bed. Julian kept his own clothes on. He had an inkling that Courtenay would find that arousing, and based on the state of the man’s cock, which was rigid and arched up towards his belly, he had been right.
Courtenay obligingly presented his wrists, and Julian bent down to bite one before using Courtenay’s own cravat to bind them to the bed frame over his head. He could hear Courtenay’s breaths, fast and shallow, and knew that the man was panting forhim.
Julian stood back to admire his handiwork. Or, really, to admire Courtenay, who was now testing Julian’s knot in a way that did very interesting things to his biceps and chest.
“Comfortable?” Julian asked, shoving a pillow behind Courtenay’s head.
“Yes, actually.” He did look decadent, sprawled on Julian’s soft featherbed, surrounded by fine linen, and yet tied up.
“Would you rather, ah, not be comfortable?”
“No, this suits.”
Thank God. There was a limit to how much Julian could manage in the name of manhandling. He knelt between Courtenay’s legs and smoothed his hands up the man’s thighs. He hadn’t yet seen Courtenay properly naked. The first time they had kept their clothes on. The second time the only light had been from the moon. But tonight Julian’s valet had lit a fire in the grate and there was enough light to see that Courtenay was every bit as splendid naked as he was fully clothed. For a man who seemed to spend most of his time lounging about and reading, he was surprisingly muscular. Perhaps his dalliances tended to be athletic in nature. Julian felt his cock pulse at the thought of the fucking he’d get tomorrow. He traced a finger along Courtenay’s hard belly and down across his hip and thigh. “I damned well expect you to exert yourself when you’re fucking me,” he said. “Put all of this”—he gestured to Courtenay’s physique—“to good use.”
Courtenay’s eyes went wide as he made a low rumbling noise at the back of his throat.
“But that’s for tomorrow,” Julian added, palming himself through his trousers and watching as Courtenay’s erection jumped in response. “What do you want me to do?” With his other hand, Julian stroked the line where Courtenay’s leg met his torso.
Courtenay’s chest was rising and falling quicker now. “Whatever you please.”
“No, that won’t do,” Julian chided. Tonight he wanted Courtenay to tell him exactly what he wanted, to admit to himself and to Julian everything that he desired and then let Julian give it to him. “Where do you want my hands?”
“On my cock,” Courtenay said promptly.
Julian immediately complied, wrapping both his hands loosely around Courtenay’s cock. Very lightly and perfectly still. He looked expectantly at Courtenay’s face.
Courtenay groaned. “Feel free to move them.”
Julian gave a halfhearted little wiggle of his fingers. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Courtenay’s outburst of incoherent rage.
“Now, now. Keep your voice down or you’ll disturb the entire building. Weren’t you the one who lectured me about balloons and pleasure? Now tell me what you want.”
“I really regret that metaphor,” Courtenay groaned, helplessly thrusting upwards into Julian’s hand. “Profoundly.”
“How did you manage to debauch yourself so completely if you can’t even tell me what you want?”
“I have to say, Med—Julian, that most people, when confronted with my naked, tied up, obviously aroused body would have a pretty good idea of what to do with it.”
