by Summer Devon
“Ha. Too bad—and maybe you will. Maybe someday you or I will wake up and think ‘This man isn’t worth the trouble. I was wrong about him.’ But what we have just today, just this minute on this road, walking along, being as wide open as the sky over the ocean for a change, nothing held back. Just that.” He stretched his arms to encompass the horizon, but winced at the pain and drew in a sharp breath before continuing. “To live that freely for as long as possible is worth disappointments. I haven’t had anything like it before, and I’d fight to keep it. I’ll fight anyone—except you, I suppose. Certainly I’ll fight the fool I was before when I told you to go.”
Phillip’s mouth was very dry. “You won’t have to fight me,” he said at last. “I have no interest in leaving you behind when I depart, or rather, I should say, if I do.”
“If?”
Phillip nodded. “I am fond of your village.”
“We couldn’t live here,” Carne said.
Phillip wanted to argue, but Carne knew Par Gwynear and Phillip didn’t. Could men such as they inhabit such a small world? They stopped at the top of the rise and looked down the path to the ramshackle collection of white houses that was the village.
Phillip looked at Carne’s face and made a guess. “I don’t think you could leave your village forever. It’s rather a large part of you.”
“Perhaps I couldn’t.” Carne flashed a grin and walked faster. “There we go. See? You know that much about me. I’d miss the ocean.”
They drew near his cottage, and he ducked under a low-hanging branch. So close to a private spot, Phillip’s trepidation died away, replaced by solid excitement. He’d fallen fast of course. He knew that was his way. Still, he must at least try to hold a part of himself back. “We’ve only just met and…and…you didn’t want me here,” he reminded Carne. “You drove me off. I beg of you, don’t try to sell me that rubbish about how it was for my own sake. Such nonsense.” He would not fight the giddiness of his attraction, but he’d try for a bit of caution.
Carne’s gaze into his eyes was steady. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
They had come to the door of the cottage.
Carne moved close to him and ran a large hand lightly down Phillip’s arm. “Come on, Professor. I got other ways to show you my devotion. Want a demonstration?”
Phillip wanted to strip off every piece of clothing and have at Carne, drag him to a wall or drop to his knees and take him in his mouth. So many scandalous forbidden acts raced through his imagination, he felt like a child facing a table covered with sweets he wanted to cram into his mouth and gobble down as soon as possible.
But this was Carne’s demonstration, he reminded himself. He waited for a kiss or a touch, or just Carne close to him, his warm body so near he’d feel the heat and…
Carne walked away from him.
“What are you doing?” Phillip demanded.
Carne went to the stove and put the kettle on. “Showing you how it can be. I make a good cuppa. I can tidy and cook, so we don’t need anything more than a char woman. But we’ll stay in hotel rooms at first, and none of that sleeping outdoors. Not with what we might get up to later.”
“I am rather more interested in the immediate future.” To show what he meant, Phillip unbuttoned his heather twill jacket and threw it on the floor.
With a laugh, Carne walked around him. But, damn the man, he didn’t so much as touch Phillip. Instead, he stooped and picked up the jacket. Moving slightly awkwardly with his injured arm, he smoothed it and put over the back of the chair. “I could be your man. I’d do a better job than you do, that’s for certain, even one-handed.”
“No, you shan’t be a servant. God, what a thought. And I have no need for a valet,” Phillip said. Then he caught sight of Carne’s smile, knowing and amused. “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you.”
Carne shrugged. “Shall I make tea? We can talk about it.”
“No, we bloody will not have tea. Not yet.”
“I want to display my devotion, remember?”
Phillip would have to take over, that much was clear. He was too impatient, too eager for teasing. He pointed at the wall. “Go stand with your back to the wall, then.”
“I thought you decided you didn’t want me for a servant?”
“Go on,” Phillip said, and gave the great strong man who outweighed him by several stone a two-handed shove in the right direction. Carne didn’t even rock from Phillip’s push, but he chuckled and strolled to the wall.
He put his back to the wall and raised his hands as if he was being held at gunpoint. His bright eyes and the bulge in his trousers showed that he was nearly as eager as Phillip, and a far better actor.
“I can see you’re not indifferent,” Phillip accused.
“Not to you, no. Hard to imagine such a thing.” He snickered. “Hard,” he explained.
“Childish.” Phillip went to him and tugged off his jacket. He threw the jacket onto a chair. “Don’t you dare,” he said when Carne eyed the jacket as if he’d go fold it.
Carne’s hands went up again, knuckles brushing the wall, dropping only when Phillip tugged off his waistcoat and pushed down his braces. With trembling fingers, Phillip unbuttoned Carne’s shirt and was delighted to discover skin rather than a vest.
He explored that flesh, tasting the salt and musk of Carne’s chest, the hard warmth of his belly. Phillip unbuttoned the fly of Carne’s rough tweed pants and reached into his drawers to find the gift of a fully erect, very hard penis waiting for his mouth and hands. He was just unwrapping his present and sinking to his knees, his mouth watering, when a strong arm wrapped around his chest and hauled him to his feet.
“My demonstration, not yours,” Carne said. He twisted and, with his good hand, pressed Phillip firmly to the wall, ignoring his protests.
“But I want you in my mouth. I positively crave the taste of you,” Phillip said. One glare from Carne’s dark eyes kept him from moving away from the wall as Carne worked at his clothing with feverish fingers. The stare kept Phillip still but didn’t stop his talking. “I love your flavor, so delicious, and the heft of you. I can’t think of anything I want more than…ohhh. Carne.” And at that moment, perhaps he could think of something he wanted at least as much. That firm grip was perfect.
Carne dropped to his knees and lapped at Phillip’s cock and cupped his bollocks. Phillip looked down at the man kneeling at his feet, at the crown of dark hair—and his knees gave a little. He rested his weight against the wall, and let Carne do what he wished.
Those firm lips wrapped around Phillip’s shaft, and then Carne sucked, all wet heat moving up and down, stopping the sublime pressure only to lap at the sensitive underside of his cockhead.
Then that marvelous mouth engulfed him, moving down until Carne’s soft beard brushed Phillip’s thighs. Phillip shivered and whimpered. He rested his hands on Carne’s soft tangle of hair and let his fingers explore. He murmured an apology when he realized he bucked. “I don’t want to choke you.”
Carne pulled away, leaving Phillip’s cock damp and cooling in the air. He wiped a bit of spittle from the corner of his mouth. “Try.”
“Don’t be… I don’t want to—”
“Try to.”
He went back to work, his perfect mouth on Phillip.
Something so demanding felt vulgar, but then the desire to move became need. Phillip pushed up from the wall, and something tight ringed the end of his cock. Carne’s throat. Carne went red and made a small sound—choking. But when Phillip tried to pull back and away, Carne growled. He reached up and encircled the base of Phillip’s cock with one very warm hand, and his insistent mouth held Phillip’s shaft as he continued the work of moving up and down, up and down. Up and uhhhh…
“Damn it,” Phillip growled right back. He allow himself do what his body commanded, with no holding back. The oncoming crisis of desire grew so strong, almost too much for him to bear. He had a passing thought—he’d be damned if he’d swoo
n like a woman—but then his tightening body and rolling desire required every scrap of his attention. Nothing existed beyond his cock trapped in Carne’s vital mouth and energetic hand.
Carne gave a satisfied grunt, and Phillip knew he swelled and grew harder before the rush surged up and out. He shoved his hips forward, and Carne kept him deep and surrounded with heat as the orgasm jolted through him.
He sagged against the wall, eyes shut, his body sliding into blissful shocks of after-pleasure, almost more satisfying than the release itself. When Carne rose and pressed his naked flesh to Phillip, pinning him as if to hold him in place, they both gave groans, his of contentment and Carne’s of yearning. Phillip wrapped his arms around the large body covering his. “Give me a moment, and then I shall demand satisfaction.”
“I think you’ve had it. Do you mean you want to fight a duel or some such thing?” Carne’s voice stuttered with gasps as he pressed rhythmically against Phillip.
“Your satisfaction,” Phillip said, and reached down to stroke the impressive iron bar pressing hot against his belly. “I demand it.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Demand? Carne couldn’t very well argue with that, nor would he want to. But the kettle on the stove was shrieking, and he had to break away long enough to set it off to one side before returning to Phillip.
“You’re limping, and your face is pale as milk.” Phillip placed a hand on Carne’s waist and brushed back his hair to look into his eyes. “Exhausted, my poor lad. You must come to bed now and let me kiss away the pain from your bruises.”
Carne felt suddenly weak and very willing to allow Phillip to tend to him as if he were an invalid. He was lucky to have sustained no more than scrapes and bangs from the boat wreck. He could easily have drowned like poor Billy Crowder, whose funeral was to be held the following day.
“I feel guilty,” he muttered as Phillip took his hand and led him into the bedroom.
Bright gray eyes regarded him. “For having feelings for a man? This is a huge change in your life. If you need more time to get used to it or want to—”
“No,” Carne interrupted. “I feel guilty for being so happy when an old friend has died. I feel guilty for being alive. I shouldn’t have brought on that last crate. It made us ride that much lower in the water. And I should have been more careful steering around those rocks. If I’d only grabbed hold of Billy, I might have been able to save him.”
“You were lucky to even save yourself, and I believe both of you made the decision as to how much cargo to take on. The pair of you rowed together. It was no one’s fault but the sea’s that you survived and he didn’t.” Phillip unbuttoned Carne’s shirt and helped him out of it, clicking his tongue at the rash of bruises all over his torso. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend, but I can only be grateful you were spared.”
He took hold of Carne’s shoulders and peered into his face. “You must stop blaming yourself. You are not responsible for controlling the world or the people around you.” Phillip raised his brows, silently asking if Carne understood his other meaning—that the village would get by with or without his guidance.
In that moment, he had the odd feeling of a great weight slipping from him. For so long, he’d imagined himself indispensable to his community. Today, watching Trennick take control of the meeting, Carne had realized he could leave and they would carry on just fine without him. A tension he didn’t even know he’d held for so long loosened and relaxed. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Phillip’s hands gently stroked his torso before beginning to unfasten his trousers, making a different sort of tension build.
After Phillip had stripped him naked, he gently pushed him onto the bed. Carne’s cock, the only part of him still rigid and tense, thrust upward. He recalled the thrill of thrusting into Phillip’s rear on the deck of his boat and wanted to feel that again.
But Phillip had other plans for him. “You lie still and let me do everything.”
Hands—running up and down his body bringing comfort and pleasure, smoothing away every ache and pain. Lips—warm and soft, nuzzling gently over his skin. Voice—quietly cooing and sympathizing over every cut or bruise. Carne closed his eyes and felt Phillip’s caring spread over him like a protective blanket. This was bliss and utter contentment. But no, there was even more to come when Phillip grasped his shaft and began to move up and down its length, and when his lover’s mouth engulfed him in heat, wetness, and hard suction.
Carne rose and fell with the rhythm of it, riding each wave of pleasure like a boat bobbing lightly on calm seas. His near brush with death—twice in as many days if he were to count the cave-in—made him appreciate this vivid affirmation of life. His senses were alive and responded dramatically to Phillip’s slightest touch. His emotions were open as they’d never been before and plumbed greater depth as he allowed himself to fully experience love in every way.
Swifter than Carne had intended or thought possible, Phillip’s sucking and stroking drew him upward to the pinnacle of desire. Then, with a gentle nudge, Phillip pushed him over the edge, and he tumbled down, lightly yet powerfully too. Carne’s entire body clenched hard before letting loose. With his cock deep in Phillip’s throat, he spent and emitted a low groan of pleasure.
When the last glimmer had died away, he opened his eyes to regard Phillip wiping his mouth and giving Carne a smug smile before crawling up to lie beside him. “Did that help you to feel better?” he teased.
“You’ve healed me entirely.” Carne brushed the backs of his fingers against Phillip’s cheek, still smooth from the morning’s shave. He wondered idly how long it might take Phillip to develop a beard if he tried and what that might feel like when they kissed.
“Oh no, there’s that frown again. What are you worrying about now?” Carne’s professor asked.
“Not one blessed thing. I’m just imagining you with a beard or moustache.”
“Would you like that? Because I must tell you, it’s not a pretty sight when I attempt to grow facial hair, rather like a cat with mange. It comes in all sparse and patchy.” Phillip’s broad smile was a sunrise.
Carne matched it with a sunny smile of his own. “I believe I’d like to see that. And then perhaps shave you myself. That could be quite…stirring, I think.”
Phillip lay back on the pillows. “There are oh so many things we may try together, things to see, people to meet, places to go, and stories to write about them.” He flexed his muscles luxuriously, hard enough to make his joints crack, and again he smiled at Carne. “Magical adventures to have together. But none of them as great as the story that began here in Par Gwynear. I would never have imagined when I tripped and knocked over a menhir that it would trigger good luck rather than bad, bringing a handsome man striding into my life to seize control of my heart.”
Carne’s face burned at the dramatic description, and a matching glow ignited inside him. He wished he had Phillip’s way with words, his romantic streak with its vivid descriptions. But whether Carne returned the compliment or not, he certainly felt the same.
What he said was much plainer. “You knocked over one of the standing stones? They’ve stood since the dawn of man. They’re part of the very history of this place.”
Phillip winced. “Did I say knocked over? I meant knocked into. But anyway, isn’t it the nature of things to shift and change over time? Even a rock must eventually break loose and roll downhill. Ha. Do you know the stories of giants who defend the land?”
“Yes. I know ’em.” Carne leaned to press a swift, fierce kiss to the professor’s mouth and thought something fanciful he would never dream of saying aloud. The rocks that lay off just off shore had inspired the myths of giants—and at this very moment, Carne felt as grand and important as any Gog or Magog or Corin. Even a giant made of stone must eventually wake from his ten-thousand-year sleep, shake the layers of soil and moss from his frame, stretch hard, and reach toward the sun.
Epilogue
Two years later
&n
bsp; “I pack the trunks, not your valet. When we’re traveling around England, I pack ’em.”
“This is Scotland,” Phillip reminded him.
“Bah. Where’d that fool put the notebooks we need?”
Phillip stood back and watched his assistant sort through the trunk that had been dragged up to their rooms late the night before.
Carne laid the neatly folded shirts on the bed, stacked the books on the floor, and continued to grumble. “And look at the mud all over the nice leather. That’s what happens when you speed down the road like a maniac.”
“Me, now? You’re going after me? I must say it’s hardly fair I have to hear about my failings. I know you wouldn’t dare call Milken a fool in person.”
Carne grimaced and tossed some socks onto the bed. “Never. That man scares the devil out of me. All neat and clean and properly tied this and starched that and all those ‘sir’s.’”
“You’ve at least stopped bounding to your feet when the servants enter a room.”
Carne stopped rummaging long enough to glare at Phillip. “They’re people, not furniture. I don’t know how you lot can act as if there aren’t people creeping about the place.”
Phillip grinned at him. Carne had been the pattern of respectful restraint in London, but the moment they got on the road and began their travels, he turned into his usual outspoken self.
They rarely spent time in London or at any wealthy friends’ houses or any sort of well-to-do establishments. Phillip missed the real version of Carne that sank into frozen politeness when they encountered too much pomp or prosperity.
Carne returned his grin for a moment, then went back to organizing and bossing Phillip, his main tasks. He tilted his head and looked Phillip up and down.
“That shirt by itself is fetching, I’d say, but best get dressed,” Carne said. “Sun ’tis well above the stables.”
Phillip fetched his trousers and meekly put them on. “Where is the first interview today?”