He could imagine Gabriel doing both. He was a priest, after all, used to comforting the sick, the broken...but oh, Lord, he did not want Gabriel to think that he was either. Even if there was an abundance of evidence to the contrary.
Or perhaps he did. This was his last attempt to push Gabriel away—to put him out of harm’s reach. Because if Gabriel didn’t walk away from this—if he treated him as a man, and not a rake to be condemned or a wretch to be pitied—then he had no defences left.
He would fall into Gabriel’s arms, scars, ghosts and all.
He waited, silent, torn between fear and hope. A hope that burst into shocked, breathless gratitude as Gabriel’s arms wrapped around him hard enough to hurt, the man’s body so tight against his that Edward could feel his heart beating.
“It should not have happened.” Gabriel spoke through gritted teeth; Edward felt the rage, the frustration, humming in his voice. “My God, Edward. It should never have happened.”
“But it did.” Edward rested his head against Gabriel’s shoulder. “It did, and I can’t explain it. Either such punishments were deserved, or there is no higher purpose for such suffering—no meaning to any of it.” He shook his head, a tear soaking into the linen of Gabriel’s shirt. “And, as foolish as this sounds, I—I can’t decide which would be worse.”
“You can’t believe that this is God’s work.” Gabriel pushed Edward’s head up to meet his gaze; Edward saw his face, flushed and furious, and felt his heart overflow with a queer, singing exultation. “Do not believe it.”
“Why not?” Edward felt his old crooked smile returning, and hated himself for it. “Is that your word as a man of God?”
“No.” Gabriel cupped his face; Edward sighed at the feel of his fingertips, roughened with work. “It is my word as a man who is yours.”
Edward didn’t have words for that. No words, no thought, only sentiment, more powerful than he had ever felt, blanketing his every fear in something both soft and mighty. The only way he could even imagine honouring it—imagine expressing such a wellspring of emotion—was with something he had previously considered all but useless.
He kissed Gabriel. Pulled him into the longest, deepest, rawest kiss of his life, a kiss laced with laughter at the absurdity of it all. How absurd it was, spending years searching in vain for his soul, only to find it in the man he had grown up alongside.
“Mine.” He whispered it, not daring to believe the word. “Mine.”
* * *
I have already broken my vow. Gabriel knew this to be true; what he had done with Edward meant a breaking of the promise he had made to God. But standing entwined in Edward’s arms now, feeling the scars on his back, he finally saw that the promise he had made was empty from the beginning.
One could not choose whom one loved. One could not refuse the work of love—the work of loving. And if the man he loved came to him, showed him the wounds of a past that Gabriel had never truly understood, and told him that those wounds made him unlovable...no promise, not even one made to God himself, would keep him from showing Edward exactly how wrong he was.
The past encounters had merely shown him the flimsiness of his vow. This one, wherever it led, would tear his vow apart.
He was going to be gentle. Even if Edward wanted to be frantic—even if he could feel the panic in the man’s hands as they tugged at his shirt, his breeches—he was going to treat him as if he were something precious. Because he was precious, unutterably precious, and this meeting of bodies and souls would not be undertaken in a hurry.
He stroked his thumbs along Edward’s cheekbones to wipe away the man’s tears as he kissed him, kissed him with all the strength he had, and all the mercy. Pulling him to the bed, needing to be close to a place where he could lay him down, he finally let his desires run truly free.
There was no hurrying this time; yes, there was speed, but the speed of music played by a master of the art. Things flowed naturally together, layering, forming a symphony: Edward’s kisses on his shoulders and back as he removed his shirt, the sound of his sighs as Gabriel gripped him tight. The secret, intimate moans of pleasure that came as hands touched bare skin, lingering in places they had never been able to worship before that moment: lips, thighs, the line of muscle that led from hipbone to cock.
This was passion, yes, but of a different kind; there was a tenderness, a raw, quivering gentleness, in every kiss and touch given and received. It felt like coming home—or better, coming back to a half-destroyed home that needed patient, loving restoration.
Soon, soon, Edward was naked against him. Gabriel couldn’t hold back his gasp of delight as he finally held him, all of him, tall and lithe and trembling in his arms, his cock bared and hard against his own. He kissed him deeper, his fingers tangled tightly in his hair, lust moving so powerfully in him that it was all he could do not to beg him for more.
“I want it like this.” Edward’s voice cracked; he pressed a long, lingering kiss to Gabriel’s lips, his eyes full of anticipation. “I want to look at you.”
This. What he had always wanted, what he had always feared, mostly because of just how much he craved it. “Good.” Gabriel kissed Edward, ecstatic, terrified. “I want to look at you.”
He looked down, the practical considerations suddenly making themselves felt. “Although I must confess, I’m not entirely sure how to organise it.”
Edward’s humorous twist of the mouth melted Gabriel’s embarrassment. “It’s easily organised. Much easier than managing an Easter service, I imagine.” He lay back on the bed, his blond hair against the pillows giving him the air of a fallen angel. “Come here. I’ll show you.”
Gabriel came to him hungrily, his body covering Edward’s as he lay against him. The sensation was almost too much, his naked skin hot against Edward’s own as his cock was tightly gripped.
“There’s oil in the drawer of the bedside table.” Edward spoke urgently, his hand still tight around Gabriel’s cock. “Get it.”
Gabriel, obedient, opened the drawer and took out the small blue bottle of oil, careful not to let a single drop stain the sheets as he poured a thin, shining stream of liquid into his palm. He put the bottle back in the drawer, then brought his oiled hands to both Edward’s cock and his own with a quick, savage gasp at how good it felt.
“Yes.” Edward’s sigh spurred Gabriel onward. He took Edward’s hand, covering it in the oil from his own palm, moaning when Edward gripped his cock in his newly oiled fist. They began a slow, mutual rhythm, building their pleasure in tandem, Gabriel kissing Edward with fierce, passionate need as they brought each other to a point of readiness.
Eventually, with a sinuous ease that only heightened Gabriel’s lust, Edward lifted his thighs to rest against Gabriel’s hips. Gently removing Gabriel’s hands from his cock, he brought them to the backs of his thighs before wrapping his arms around Gabriel. Gabriel sighed as he felt the sweetness of his new position; Edward was open to him, ready, holding him tightly.
“It should be known that I’ve only seen this done.” Edward looked up at him, his face showing a vulnerability that Gabriel had never seen before. “I am working according to theory—not practice.”
“I see.” Gabriel leaned down, lightly kissing the corner of Edward’s mouth; Edward shifted his hips, pressing shamelessly against his cock. “You are normally in my position?”
“Yes.”
“And why have you changed this time?”
Edward reached up to kiss him, long, lingering, open. “As I said. I want to look at you.”
Curling his hands around Edward’s hips, covering his neck and shoulders with kisses, Gabriel brought his cock to Edward’s entrance. For a moment, he couldn’t move. He wanted to stay there forever, tight and tense and half-mad with desire, on the point of entering the man he loved.
“Please.” Edward leaned upward, kissing him. “Please. You’re so c
lose. Please.”
“Oh, that’s good. Begging.” The pleading note in Edward’s voice had Gabriel burning, trembling with excitement. “Go on. Beg a little more.”
“Damn you.” Edward spoke harshly. “Fine. Please, please, please. I’ve been dreaming about this for what seems like years, you bloody man. Please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Edward looked up at him, his voice wondering in its sudden softness. “You won’t.”
Gabriel couldn’t bear it any longer. With a low, quiet moan, sensation exploding through his core, he pushed the tip of his cock inside.
He rested his forehead against Edward’s own, trembling, unable to control the wild beating of his heart. Edward tightened around him; Gabriel cried out, briefly helpless, lost in the pleasure of it as he moved deeper. He was inside the man he loved, the man who had shown him all that he was, good and bad, and asked for nothing in return.
He could stay here forever, Edward’s thighs pressed against his own, Edward’s feet pressed snugly into the small of his back. Edward’s eyes, wider than they had been during their last encounters—as if, after all they had been through together, he couldn’t quite believe that it was happening.
Well, it was happening. If he had to show him more clearly, so be it.
Biting his lip, willing himself not to finish despite the intensity of the sensations coursing through him, he shifted his hips. Edward gasped; Gabriel stilled for a moment, allowing him to get used to the feel of him, before beginning to move his hips more decisively. He had never quite managed to imagine himself in this position; he had always viewed himself as subservient to Edward, in bed as well as out of it. But as he moved again, sliding his shaft into Edward’s core, he realised that he liked being able to look into Edward’s eyes very much.
“Like this?” He shifted his hips again; Edward gasped, and Gabriel stilled. “Too much?”
“No.” Edward shook his head, his face a picture of pained contentment. “Not enough.”
Thank God. Watching Edward’s face intently, Gabriel moved deeper. How exquisite it felt, Edward tightening around him—how impossible that it was finally happening, after so many years of furtive dreaming. A long, delicious thrust that seemed to last forever.
“Oh.” Edward’s sigh of contentment meant more to Gabriel than anything. He brought his lips to Edward’s, suddenly hungry for more sighs, more kisses, as his thrusts became a rhythm.
Time no longer mattered. Not the years of waiting, pining, hoping, not the week of longing for Edward, stolen kisses burning on his lips. Not even the seconds sliding by with aching slowness meant anything at all to Gabriel; there was only now, an endless, delicious now, giving pleasure to the man who meant more to him than anything in the world. All he needed was a way of tethering himself to the moment. He reached downward, kissing Edward as softly and constantly as he could, the pleading moans coming from deep in the man’s throat mingling inextricably with his own.
He knew he wouldn’t last long. He also knew, curiously, that it didn’t matter; this was not a performance, a display of potency or stamina, but something much more tender. He was safe in Edward’s arms, human and imperfect, just as Edward was safe in his.
“I am close. Very close.” He took Edward’s cock in his hand, stroking it fiercely in time with his thrusts. Leaning down, resting his forehead against Edward’s own once more, he felt shivers of pleasure running through his lover’s body. “Tell me you are close.”
“Yes—don’t stop. Don’t.” Edward gripped him tightly, fiercely gripping him in place. “I want to feel you finish. I—Don’t leave me, Gabriel.”
“Never.” Gabriel kissed him, harder than before, unrelenting. Edward needed to feel him, needed to feel his stability, his strength, even as his world felt as if it were about to come apart. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It was as if Edward had needed his permission; he let his head fall back against the pillows, eyes closed, his high, arching cry one of complete surrender as Gabriel quickened his pace. The image was so perfect, so right; Edward tightened around him, his heels digging into his spine, his hands gripping his curls almost tight enough to hurt.
God, don’t let it end. Gabriel knew it had to, but it was so exquisite: the feel of Edward around him, the heat of his body, the pitch of his cries. The way he trembled as Gabriel thrust harder, his body finally unleashing the wildness he’d kept buried in his heart for so long.
He collapsed, his head spinning, the chandelier above him glittering like a comet’s tail as Edward, lying beside him, sighed in pure abandonment.
This was enough. This was everything; he knew it now, with a certainty he had never previously possessed.
And as soon as he recovered his strength, he would do it again, and again, and again.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“You know, if that’s how priests do it...” Edward barely realised he was speaking aloud, until he felt Gabriel’s arm tighten around him. Dawn was just beginning to turn the night grey. They had time, time to lie in one another’s arms and muse, before the prying eyes of the household opened. “I would have gone to church every Sunday from the moment I turned eighteen.”
“That’s not how priests do it.” Gabriel’s voice gave off the warm, sleepy arrogance of a resting panther. “That’s how I do it.” His hand drifted downward, idly stroking the patch of downy blond curls that lay at the base of Edward’s cock, and Edward bit his lip as he felt himself stiffen. “That’s how I’m going to do it again, actually. Right now.”
Thank God. He could think about the act, and the act alone. What had come before it—the first real moment of truth, or vulnerability, that he had experienced since adolescence—was already obscured by a cloud of shame.
No. Not shame. Terror. He was terrified beyond measure.
“Don’t you have legions of curtains to fold, and bookshelves to move, and skirting-boards to polish...” He sighed, biting his lip as Gabriel’s fingers slowly closed around his cock. Terror was uncomfortable; it had to be concealed. “There’s a whole basket of tasks somewhere, desperately requiring your attention. What a pity you’re here with me.”
“Really? Did I have a life before being here with you? You must tell me what it was like.” Gabriel’s teeth gently grazed Edward’s earlobe, his hand strong and sure as it moved over his cock. “It would be such a help.”
“You—ah!—were a real pillar of the community, from what I can gather.” Edward brought up a hand, letting his fingers get lost in Gabriel’s dark curls. “But then you met a London rake, a most disreputable fellow, and he ruined you. There’s no hope for you now.”
Gabriel’s fingers stilled. “Is that what you think you’re doing? Ruining me?”
“I...” Edward searched for a reply, wondering how he’d managed to change the mood so abruptly. “I ruin everything, sooner or later.” He laughed, but the sound felt hollow. “I’m like a spring frost. Nothing green can live.”
Gabriel shifted. Edward found himself staring into his eyes, full of a soft, knowing compassion that scared him more than any frown. “So you decided to ruin me? Is that what is happening here, now? Are you really being a pitiless seducer?”
Edward floundered, lost in the earnestness of Gabriel’s words. That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? He had been the one provoking Gabriel, flirting, pushing him over the edge...but he had also been the one to show Gabriel his scars.
No. He still couldn’t think like that. He felt each crop-mark burning against the sheets, a memory of something that could still poison him, and forced himself back to the present with a harsh sigh.
He certainly didn’t feel like a callous rake, lying wide-eyed in Gabriel’s arms. And Gabriel, staring down at him, didn’t look ready to be discarded. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“You know, you’re a terrible liar.” Gabriel kiss
ed him, the touch of his lips as light as a snowflake. “You lie to yourself all the time.” His fingers began moving over Edward’s cock again, slow and exacting, keeping Edward fixed to the blankets. “I don’t think you could tell the truth about what’s happening here if you tried.”
What was happening here? Edward was helpless, trapped in the intensity of Gabriel’s gaze, the pleasure that his hands were giving him. The only things that came to mind were unthinkable. Unsayable.
You haunt me. You weaken me. You make me question who I am.
I need you.
I—I lo—
“I won’t make you say it. Not if you do not want to, not if you can’t.” Gabriel kissed him again; Edward sighed, feeling the sadness that lingered in the brush of his mouth. “Just be here. Be here now, with me.”
Edward swallowed. “Of course.”
If he was to be here now, then he had to do something to fight the increasing sense of helplessness. Kissing Gabriel again, trying not to communicate the sudden depth of his fear, Edward gently pushed the man over onto his other side. Gabriel complied with a gentle laugh, sighing with pleasure as Edward closed his hand over him again.
“Forgive me if this is an impertinent question.” He bit Gabriel’s earlobe, slowly stroking along his rigid length, and felt a shiver through the man’s body that made his own cock twitch with pleasure. “But have you done this before?”
“I—oh.” Gabriel tentatively ground back against Edward’s cock, leaning back to snuggle his head into Edward’s chest. “No. Of course not.”
“Good.” It was good; Edward couldn’t deny the fierce, selfish joy that came with knowing this was new for Gabriel. It made it new for him again; a feral excitement raced through him, pushing his fear away. “Now...wait until you can’t bear being without it.”
Burying his head in Gabriel’s shoulder, losing himself in the scent of the man’s skin, he began to stroke Gabriel’s cock in earnest. This position had always given him comfort, a sense of potency—but even though the pleasure was still there, far greater and sweeter than any other encounter with any other man, the usual sense of distance had vanished. He knew Gabriel’s body so intimately by now, as thoroughly as he knew his own, that it was as if the man’s pleasure was his own pleasure. God, please let his own fear not transmit itself to Gabriel, somehow.
The Vicar and the Rake (Society of Beasts) Page 19