Page 56 of A Gentleman Never Keeps Score
Hartley raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he nodded. “Help yourself.” With unsteady hands, Sam worked open the first of the buttons. “I have the salve in the table by the bed,” Hartley said. A silver button landed with a plink on the wood floor.
“Sorry—” Sam started. “Salve?”
“I used your cock on myself the other night,” Hartley whispered, and felt Sam’s hands clamp on his hips.
“How did it feel?” Sam asked, his voice ragged.
“So good. I thought of you the whole time, wishing it really were your cock inside me.”
Sam bucked his hips up helplessly. “Oh fuck, Hart. Jesus fuck.”
“I know you would make me feel good.” Hartley, still straddling Sam’s lap, ground down so Sam could feel his arousal. “You’d be gentle. You’d care what I wanted.” He punctuated each sentence with another thrust of his hips.
“God yes, I’d do whatever you needed. You know it.”
Hartley kissed Sam’s shoulder. “You’d fuck me now if I wanted you to.”
Sam stilled. “Is that what you’re asking for?”
“I think it is. I know it would be fine. Or, rather, even if it wasn’t, I’d ask you to stop, and you would. And then it would just be something unpleasant that happened. It wouldn’t have to mean anything. And you’d be with me, so I’d be safe.” Sam held Hartley tight against him.
When Sam shrugged out of his coat then tugged his shirt over his head, Hartley let his gaze trail hotly over Sam’s body.
“See something you like?” Sam asked.
A wicked grin spread across Hartley’s face. “We’re just two extraordinarily good-looking people about to fuck. I wish I had a looking glass.” It was shameless bravado, and Sam must have known it, because he stifled a laugh while undoing the rest of Hartley’s waistcoat buttons.
When they were both naked, Hartley climbed on top of Sam and leaned in for a kiss. He had always thought kissing intrusive and messy, but Sam’s kisses started out gentle and soft. With one hand Sam cradled Hartley’s head and with the other he caressed Hartley’s back, and before Hartley knew it he was thrusting his hips forward in a rhythm that matched their kissing, rubbing against Sam’s own erection.
“Ease off,” Sam said, his voice strained. “I’ll come in about half a minute if you keep going.”
Hartley put some space in between them. “Would you touch me?” Hartley asked, and Sam, bless him, didn’t need to be told twice. He moved his hands to Hartley’s lower back and then to the curve of his arse, touching, squeezing, spreading. Now Hartley’s breaths were coming fast, his movements ragged. Sam traced his fingers into Hartley’s cleft, seeking out sensitive skin as he thrust his hips up.
“You want this,” Sam said, almost wonderingly, as Hartley groaned and pressed back into his touch. He fumbled on the table beside the bed for the salve.
“I wantyou,” Hartley clarified. “Inside me. I’ve hardly been able to sleep for imagining it.” He took both their cocks together in his hand and stroked. “And if we can’t, then we can’t. We’ll both be fine.” Slowly, patiently, Sam worked Hartley open with slick fingers while they kissed, until Hartley was babbling and bossy. “Now, Sam. I can’t wait.”
“Go ahead,” Sam said, his voice rough.
Hartley knelt over him and took hold of Sam’s cock, positioning it against his entrance. Sam clenched his jaw and twisted his fingers in the bedsheets.
Hartley knew a moment of doubt. A cock was very different from fingers, very different from the glass prick. But he relaxed and let his body adjust.
“This all right?” Sam asked, because of course he did. Hartley smiled.
“Oh Sam. Yes.” As Hartley began to move, Sam rested one hand on Hartley’s hip and with the other reached over his head to grip the bedframe, his bicep bulging with the tension of holding fast. Hartley took a moment to thank whatever providence had led him to this man, and then drew Sam inside him.
“You’re a good man, Hart,” Sam said as they lay on Hartley’s soft bed, the covers pulled over them. Hartley made a scoffing sound. “I mean it. How many men do you think would have taken Sadie in and rocked her baby into the bargain. You really are decent, Hart.” Sam put his hand up to Hartley’s cheek.
“Sod off,” Hartley said, but didn’t pull away. His voice was ragged and his hair fanned out chaotically where his head rested on Sam’s shoulder. He looked peaceful, sated, and utterly well-fucked. Sam wanted to shower him with all the praise he deserved.
“Softhearted.”
“I’m responsible for both Sadie and Alf. They’re not much more than children,” Hartley protested. “People can get into a lot of trouble at that age.”
“Like I said, decent.”
Hartley wrinkled his nose. “One decent thing I could do would be to give you a sum of money to finance the Bell’s repairs. Not a loan. No strings attached. Just a gift.”
