It Takes Two to Tumble

by Cat Sebastian

  “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Ben said to the gentleman, shrugging into his coat. “Your letter made it sound like you’d come in August.”

  “Well, London got a bit too hot to hold me,” the gentleman said.

  Phillip could see Ben frown at this. “And Alice, I’m so glad to see you out of doors.”

  “It’s Hartley’s doing. He came to the house looking for you, and only found me instead. And then he insisted on putting me into his new gig—”

  “What was the use of buying the thing if not to escort the prettiest woman in Cumberland?”

  “And I haven’t even fallen out!” she added triumphantly.

  “I should dashed well think not,” the gentleman said. “Would be most unbecoming, and if you expect me to drive around with a woman who’s covered in dust, you can guess again, Alice.”

  “And a provincial woman in an unfashionable frock,” the lady added with a rueful shake of her head.

  Phillip only understood enough to gather that the three of them were on terms of intimacy. He felt vaguely jealous of their easy camaraderie, and even more jealous when he realized that the lady must be the Alice Crawford Ben intended to marry. He stepped farther away from the little group, wishing he could disappear.

  “Captain Dacre,” Ben called, not at all like he was doing a duty but as if he were genuinely eager to have Phillip’s company. “Miss Crawford, this is Captain Dacre. And Captain Dacre, this is my brother Hartley.”

  Phillip bowed to each of them in turn. Now that he looked at this Mr. Hartley Sedgwick, he could see a faint family resemblance. Hartley was built on altogether more delicate lines than his brother, but the similarities were there. Phillip had the stray notion that Hartley took great care to prevent his skin from freckling the way his older brother’s did.

  He was spared the necessity of attempting conversation by the twins’ loud whoops of laughter as they went careening into the lake. They were both fully dressed, so that was at least something to be thankful for. The dog evidently thought this a great emergency and barked at the top of his lungs.

  “I had quite forgotten the bucolic charm of the country,” Mr. Hartley Sedgwick said dryly.

  “Take him home and get him some smelling salts,” Ben said to Miss Crawford. “And a cool cloth to put over his eyes.” Then, as if realizing what he was saying, “Wait, Hartley, where are you staying? You can put up at the vicarage, but you’ll have to let Mrs. Winston know.”

  “Never worry, brother. I took a room at the George and Dragon.”

  “You must come to dinner during your stay,” Phillip said impulsively. “Both of you.” All three were staring at him with round eyes, and he realized the words had come out more as a command than an invitation. He tried to adopt a less authoritarian tone. “Your brother,” he told Mr. Hartley Sedgwick, “has been infinitely helpful with my children.” He knew a mad urge to claim Ben as his own. “I’d be so honored to have his brother and his betrothed as my guests.”

  At the word betrothed, a strange thing happened. Hartley rolled his eyes, Miss Crawford blushed and looked away, and Ben froze. Well, well. Phillip didn’t know quite what to think, only that matters were not as straightforward as they seemed, and that this new intelligence pleased him out of all proportion.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Phillip was already in bed when he heard the knock on his door.

  He knew before he had his hand on the latch that it was Ben. It couldn’t be anyone else; the children were sleeping, a servant had already banked his fire, and houses, unlike ships, didn’t generally have emergent situations. Even if there were an emergency, he would not be the person appealed to. This sense of irrelevance was not as disconcerting as Phillip might have liked.

  He opened the door to find Ben in rolled-up shirtsleeves and a fierce expression.

  “Did you decide to take me up on my offer and hit me?” Phillip asked. He had made that offer only half in jest. Ben didn’t wear anger well. His cheerful, handsome face belonged in a smile.

  “No,” the vicar said, his jaw clenched.

  “You’d better come in.”

  He stepped only far enough inside for Phillip to reach behind him and latch the door. “Why did you invite them?”

  Phillip wasn’t going to remind him that Barton Hall was his own house and he could invite whomever the hell he wanted. “Your brother and Miss Crawford? I thought it would please you to have their company,” he said, because it was the truth.

  “I cannot sit at the table with you and Alice. I can’t.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “And as for Hartley, he sees everything.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I have to make a decision. And I damned well hate it.” Ben seldom swore, and the coarse language, even more than his fierce expression, told Phillip of his distress.

  “I know,” Phillip said. There was nothing else he could say. He had already told the younger man of his own experiences, for what little they were worth, and there was nothing more than that he could offer. The decision had to be Ben’s. Phillip reminded himself that it had nothing to do with him. He would be at sea long before Ben went through with the marriage.

  “She’s not well,” Ben said. “For me to break the engagement would be shabby even if she weren’t unwell. She’s my closest and oldest friend, and she’ll be left with precious little after her parents die.”

  “She’s a beautiful woman,” Phillip pointed out. “And lively.”

  “She can hardly walk. Even if she had occasion to meet a suitor, it’s not every man who could see past that.”

  Phillip didn’t know if this were true, but Ben believed it, and that was the crux of the issue. “Can you set aside money for her use, if she’s ever in need?”

  “I put all my extra income—and this is not a wealthy parish, so don’t think I’m some kind of philanthropist—into the poor box. But, yes, I do need to find a way to set some aside.”

  “Of course you give away all your money.” Phillip would never stop being surprised by how decent this man was. “Of course you do.”

  Ben paid him no heed. “I feel like a cad and I’m not used to that.”

  Phillip smiled. Ben was used to being adored and appreciated. Phillip had learned that quickly—everyone in the village liked their jovial young vicar. And for good reason. “I don’t envy you,” Phillip said, and it was true. He tried to ignore the utterly irrelevant surge of hope that swept through him at the idea that Ben might not marry this girl. He tried to remind himself that it didn’t matter, that it was ridiculous for him to be jealous of this young woman, that rolling around on the boathouse floor and groping against his desk had nothing in common with building a life and starting a family. But he couldn’t banish either the hope or the jealousy from his mind, so instead he took Ben’s hand in his own. “You really are a decent, good, kind man, and whatever decision you make will be for the best.” The strangest thing was that Phillip actually believed the trite words as they left his mouth. The vicar, for all his youth, really was a good man, one of the best Phillip had ever known.

  And Phillip had ruined it for him. Ben had been blithely headed down a smooth path and Phillip sent him careening sideways. Well, that was done and there was nothing left but to ruin it some more.

  “Come here,” Phillip said, tugging him close.

  Ben sagged against Phillip’s body as if it were a relief to be close. And maybe it was. God knew that at the first brush of their bodies Phillip felt like he was taking a deep breath after swimming underwater for too long. It felt somehow easier to touch and hold Ben than it was not to touch him, which made no sense, because Phillip had never in his life touched anyone like this. He had never run his hands soothingly down anyone’s back; he had never kissed anyone’s temple; he had never whispered nonsense into anyone’s ear as he was doing now. But it all felt right, like he was finally in his native habitat.

  It was Ben who first turned the embrace into something more, turning his hea
d so his lips pressed into Phillip’s neck. Phillip held Ben’s chin in his hand so he could see the man’s face and get some idea of what he was thinking. The anger had fled and been replaced with want. Want, Phillip could work with.

  Their lips met with more urgency than finesse, and Phillip didn’t care because he had gone too many years with too few kisses, and he had gone his whole life without Ben, and now he had kisses and Ben and he had never felt better.

  Ben was steering him backward. Towards the bed, Phillip gathered. He liked that, liked that Ben was taking what he wanted and that what he wanted was Phillip. They landed on the bed in a tangle of limbs, Ben a welcome heaviness on top of him. Phillip wore only his dressing gown, and not for long, because Ben shoved it aside and tossed it to the ground before pulling his own shirt off in one movement. Phillip watched with interest as he began to unfasten his breeches, sliding them down around his lean hips and exposing his already hard prick. God, he was lovely. He was golden and young and he seemed to glow with goodness and beauty. Phillip could have worshiped at his feet, but instead settled for pulling him down and rolling them over.

  “I want,” Ben rasped. “I want everything.”

  Phillip froze. “What does that mean?”

  “I want to do anything you’ve ever liked.”

  “You don’t know that you’d like . . . everything.”

  “If I don’t like it, we won’t do it again.” He spoke as if it were so simple, and maybe it was. “And if it’s terrible then it’ll be terrible together. But I . . . I don’t have the words. Don’t make me blunder through. But I want you to touch me everywhere, and I want to do the same to you.”

  Phillip shuddered. “Yes,” he managed. “I want that.” Want was too weak a word. He craved anything Ben had to offer. He let Ben roll him over and watched in fascination as he knelt between Phillip’s spread legs. Phillip was naked, utterly exposed, even more so when he took a shaky breath and bent his knees up. Phillip swore under his breath and fisted his hands in the sheets when Ben took hold of Phillip’s cock, bracing himself so he wouldn’t come undone at the touch of Ben’s mouth.

  He came undone anyway with first flick of Ben’s pink tongue on the sensitive head of his erection. Spasms of lust rocketed through his body. He reached up to grab the bed frame, steadying himself. Ben’s pale hair shaded his face, so with his free hand, Phillip brushed those strands away. Ben looked up at him and Phillip swore again. He supposed Ben’s inexperience shouldn’t triple his own interest in the proceedings, but his cock had perverse tastes and there was no reasoning with it. He groaned as Ben took the tip into his mouth and sucked.

  “Do you like it?” Phillip asked. He needed to hear it.

  Ben hummed in what Phillip assumed was assent.

  “Show me how much you like it.” Phillip didn’t know what had gotten into him. This wasn’t how things were done. He had gotten his cock sucked dozens of times, and his general posture was restrained appreciation. He had never wanted to seem too enthusiastic, lest the person on the other end of the transaction think . . . think what? How had Phillip managed to get so bloody stupid? All he wanted right now was for Ben to know how damned much he liked this, how much he needed it, how good and necessary this was. Because this was something they were sharing, something they were doing together. He wasn’t receiving a favor; he wasn’t having his lust conveniently slaked by a friend. This was some unholy combination of desire and friendship and something else, because apparently when you took workaday lust and combined it with affection and threw in garden-variety honesty, you got something new and totally different.

  Ben, evidently in response to Phillip’s request, gave an experimental suck on the head of Phillip’s cock before taking him deeper.

  “God, yes,” Phillip groaned. “So good.”

  He heard and felt Ben’s answering moan, which only made him harder still. And then he opened his legs a little wider and bent his knees a little more, deliberately giving Ben access to, well, whatever he might like. A frisson of something not quite shame, but adjacent to shame, coursed through his body. And, alarmingly, he liked that too. The idea that he was exposing himself like this, inviting Ben to touch him in a way he had never been touched, made his cock pulse. The idea that Ben made him want things he had never wanted, never allowed himself to want, was thrilling and terrifying all at once, and Phillip wondered exactly how much trouble he was in.

  Ben had brought himself off imagining a man’s cock in his mouth more times than he could count, but the actual sensation of Phillip, hard and thick, on his tongue and between his lips, was enough to make him almost delirious with pleasure. It took him a few minutes to work his way into anything like a rhythm, to learn how to make his hand and his mouth work in tandem. By the time he figured that out, Phillip’s head had fallen back in pleasure, exposing the strong lines of his throat. Ben could have watched him like that all day—lips parted, hand gripping the bedpost as if it were keeping him afloat in stormy waters, hips rocking ever so slightly into Ben’s mouth.

  Once he felt confident that he was not going to choke, he took his hand away from the base of Phillip’s erection and instead used it to cup Phillip’s bollocks. He was rewarded with a groan of pleasure and the taste of salt on his tongue, so he kept doing it. Phillip’s legs fell farther open, fully exposing his bollocks and even more private flesh beyond. Benedict wasn’t certain if he was meant to do anything with this. He was not such an innocent as to be ignorant of the different ways men could come together but felt inanely shy about asking whether the captain had sodomy on his mind.

  And yet. Conscious that he might irretrievably ruin the moment, but not wanting to hold back any offering of pleasure or sensation that Phillip might desire, he tentatively traced a finger lower. The hand that had been idly stroking Benedict’s hair went still and Phillip’s body went rigid, but not, Ben thought, with displeasure. With . . . anticipation perhaps? Ben played his tongue along the underside of Phillip’s shaft while he brought his finger still lower, skimming along the crease of Phillip’s arse.

  And then a single word. “Yes.” It was only a whisper on Phillip’s mouth but it sounded like it cost a hell of a lot so Benedict kept touching him, not daring to push inside but circling Phillip’s sensitive entrance while lavishing every care he could think of on Phillip’s shaft. The caress of Phillip’s hand on the shell of Ben’s ear seemed impossibly gentle, somehow more intimate than what Ben was doing with his tongue and his fingers. And when Phillip mumbled a warning, Ben knew he didn’t want to stop—he wanted to experience Phillip’s pleasure as fully as he possibly could, so he swallowed and sucked until Phillip pulled him away, dragging him in for a kiss.

  “Thank you,” Phillip said, and something in the man’s slightly stilted tone told Ben that the veil of awkwardness was about to descend again. Of course it was. After anything that even bore a passing resemblance to vulnerability, Captain Phillip Dacre did his absolute bloody best to lock himself up right and tight. Well, too bad, because Ben wasn’t having any of that.

  “I’m still hard,” he said, because it was true and because tending to his erection would at least defer the awkwardness. He palmed his erection and cast a deliberate, hungry glance at the captain’s naked body. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Phillip flashed him a rare, lazy smile. “You ought to bring that over here and find out.”

  Ben climbed up, intending to lie at Phillip’s side, but the captain pulled him on top. “Like this,” he said, wrapping his fingers around Ben’s prick and forming a channel with his fist. “Into my hand,” he murmured. It took Ben a moment to figure out what he was meant to do, then he started thrusting into Phillip’s fist, pumping his hips fast and hard.

  “Soon,” he said, teeth gritted. He was already far gone, and after a few thrusts he came, knowing it was Phillip beneath him, receiving his thrusts, and wondering what that might mean.

  They lay there, sweaty and sated, until their hearts returned to normal
and Ben started to shiver. Ben probably ought to leave, but instead he pulled the covers over both of them. “Just for a few moments,” he said, almost apologetically.

  “I wish you could stay all night,” Phillip said. That was impossible, and they both knew it. They couldn’t risk being discovered by the servants. That made it an easy offer to make.

  “Do you really?” Ben asked. “I was beginning to think you wished me at the ends of the earth.”

  “So was I, but then I imagined you in your own bed, and that would put you inconveniently far from my cock.”

  Ben laughed softly. “Your cock has no say. It’s fast asleep.”

  “It could be persuaded.” They lay silently long enough for Ben to think that conversation was over. “You make me want things I shouldn’t.”

  “Likely you mean that as a compliment but it isn’t one. Just because I touched your—”

  “You make me want to hold you all night and into the morning. You make me think I’ll hate getting back on my ship. You make me wish I could stay here and give you what you deserve. That I could be what you deserve.” That furrow had reappeared on Phillip’s brow.

  “Bugger deserve. To hell with it. Who are you to decide who deserves what? Some people are starving and others are eating peeled grapes and you can’t mean to tell me that either group deserve a damned thing. You don’t get to tell me what I deserve.”

  “I only meant that you deserve better than what I have to offer.”

  Now the same anger that had plagued Ben earlier this evening was seeping back into his mood. “You deserve better. You deserve better than a family you keep at arm’s length and a lover you push away. You deserve better than that. And now I’m going to go back to my room.” He dropped a kiss onto Phillip’s worried brow, just to show him that his words were meant in a spirit of kindness, and left Phillip alone in his bed.

  Chapter Fifteen