by L. A. Witt
When I pushed back the flap and ducked into the tent, I fully expected the air within to be as bitterly cold as it was outside. To my surprise, a rush of gentle warmth, not unlike that which I’d enjoyed beside the fire, met my face.
Behind me, water splashed, then hissed, and the light of the campfire vanished, but the tent wasn’t completely dark. Off to my right, the heating device’s coils glowed orange, casting a faint amber blush over the bedrolls and provisions.
John stepped in behind me, and after he’d closed the tent flap, he slid his hands over my shoulders. “As cold as it is tonight, I thought we could spare a few pieces of coal for a little warmth.” His lips brushed the side of my neck. “And perhaps have one night without so much”—his fingers drifted down my sleeves—“between us.”
I bit my lip, tilting my head so his lips could explore more of the flesh above my collar.
“I know we should sleep,” he murmured. “Tomorrow will be like no day we’ve endured thus far. But I . . .” He kissed my neck and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.
Closing my eyes, I released a long breath as his lips traveled up and down the side of my neck. I didn’t know if I wanted to get his attention, if I intended to say anything, or if I just needed to taste his name while he kissed my neck, but I put my hands over his and whispered, “John . . .”
“Before we cross the pass, I just . . . I need one more night with you.”
I turned around in his arms, and our eyes met in the low light from the heating device. For a handful of heartbeats, neither of us spoke or even breathed.
Then John put his hand on my cheek and leaned in to kiss me.
We sank as one onto the fur blankets that lay across our bedrolls. I pushed his jacket over his shoulders, and as he shrugged it off, I started on the buttons of his shirt. Though the air beyond our tent was dangerously cold, we shed clothing without a care in the world, baring flesh to warmth that existed only for us.
John kissed me and laid me back on the fur. “I knew there was something about you the night we met,” he whispered, dipping his head to kiss my neck again, “but I never imagined this.”
“Neither did I.” My breath caught as his chin—freshly shaved, but still deliciously coarse—grazed my throat. “I thought you were just another . . . well, just another john.”
A breath of laughter warmed my neck. “That night, perhaps I was. But . . .” He pushed himself up and rested his weight on his forearm, his expression turning serious in the soft orange glow. With his other hand, he caressed my face. “Whatever happens after we leave here tomorrow, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t take advantage of every hour we have left tonight.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond, instead sinking into a slow, passionate kiss. His tongue parted my lips, and gooseflesh rose on my neck and arms as I held him closer.
I’d never before had the chance to memorize a man’s kiss—the way he tasted, the way his lips and tongue moved, those soft little sounds of pleasure—like I’d memorized John’s. He could have found me on a dark street, caught me by surprise, and kissed me, and I’d have instantly known it was him. It didn’t matter if his chin was thick with stubble or freshly shaved, or if his mouth tasted of whiskey like it sometimes did—I’d know John’s kiss anywhere. The tip of his tongue teased mine like he knew it would make me shiver, and he too shivered sometimes, moaning against my lips or pulling in sharp breaths through his nose. I knew his scent, his taste, his voice, his touch. Like no other man before him, I knew him.
He broke the kiss. Our foreheads touched, and we panted against each other’s lips. I couldn’t say who trembled more. When I slid my hand into his hair and drew him back down to me, he kissed me, and we held each other tight as his kiss carried me away like no man’s kiss had ever aspired to do.
Arousal became feverish, desperate need. I had to have him. Now. Deep inside me, breathing hard against my neck and fucking me into delirium. Now.
I nudged his shoulder, urging him to roll onto his back, but he didn’t move.
“No.” He clasped my hand in his and pinned it to the fur. “Tonight is about your pleasure.”
I stared with wide eyes at the top of the tent. My pleasure?
John trailed soft kisses along my jaw. “Answer me truthfully, Robert,” he whispered, pausing to drag his lip just below my ear. “Did you have lovers before you became a prostitute?”
My face burned, and I hoped that if he looked, the heating device would cast only the most discreet glow over my undoubtedly red cheeks. “I . . . no, I didn’t.”
“Never?”
I swallowed. “Never.”
“A pity.” He nibbled my earlobe, and I pulled in a breath as his hard cock pressed against mine. “That means no man has spent time giving you the pleasure you’ve given him.” Hot breath rushed across the side of my neck. “Fools, all of them, but no matter.” He kissed where his breath had warmed, then lower, and still a little lower. When he reached my collarbone, he whispered, “Simply means the pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”
“Oh, it’s not—” I gasped as he gently pressed his teeth into my nipple. “The pleasure isn’t all yours.”
“I certainly hope not,” he murmured. “That would defeat the entire purpose, now wouldn’t it?”
I tried to speak, but he took my nipple between his teeth, and any words I might have found stopped in my throat. He teased me with his tongue, my head swirling with the combined softness of his tongue and the just slightly painful bite.
He continued moving down. “Is it safe to assume, then—” He kissed just above my navel. “—that no man has ever tasted you?”
I squirmed beneath him. “No one.”
“Mmm.” He kissed my skin again, then met my eyes in the dim light. “What a pity for them.”
I pushed myself up on my elbows and stared down at him, lips parted in disbelief as he inched lower, lower, lower.
He planted a soft kiss just beside the base of my cock. Eyes flicking up to meet mine, he pressed his lips to my hard shaft, and my stomach muscles contracted from just that light touch. Then he traced the length of my cock with his tongue, forcing every last breath out of my lungs. I wasn’t used to being the one to lie back and be pleasured, to the idea of someone enjoying my arousal this way, and John’s gentle, hungry enthusiasm drove me mad.
And he was only getting started. The things he did with his mouth were nothing short of breathtaking, and tears stung my eyes as John explored my cock, my testicles, the sensitive skin along my inner thighs. He fluttered his tongue here, circled with it there, kissed, sucked, breathed. He lapped at my testicles, flicking his tongue across skin that had never known such a sensation could exist.
He left no flesh unkissed, no skin unwarmed by soft breaths. I rested my hand in his hair and let my head fall back. I’d never imagined such a touch could be so . . . intense. And just when I didn’t think I could stand another moment of it, he steadied my cock with one hand and took me slowly—oh God, so slowly—into his mouth, swallowing me almost to the hilt before rising off me and doing it again. The second time, he paused with only his lips around the head and teased me with his tongue, waiting until I whimpered softly before he continued his slow down-up-down motions.
He stopped, and when he sucked his own finger into his mouth, my breath caught. Then he teased my entrance with that moistened finger, and I whimpered as he took my cock in his mouth again at the same moment his finger pressed into me.
I’d always wondered why men loved this so much, why they asked, begged, commanded me to do it. I understood now. I couldn’t imagine I’d ever done as much for a man as John did for me, though. He was . . . His mouth was . . . He . . .
“Oh God . . .” Screwing my eyes shut, I dug my teeth into my lower lip and grabbed handfuls of the fur beside me. We were far from anyone who might hear the soft moans and rustling of bodies moving together, but if I cried out like John’s lips and tongue dared me to,
a dozen men would come running. And God, oh God, nothing at all was the matter except that I was on the verge of losing every fragment of sanity I possessed.
He closed his hand around me and stroked rapidly, his palm sliding easily up and down the slick shaft as his fingers slipped in and out of me and his lips and tongue teased the most breathtaking sensations from the head of my cock. I collapsed onto the fur blanket, squeezing hot tears from my eyes as my back arched and my toes curled. My testicles tightened, my cock ached, and my entire body tensed. I craved release so badly I couldn’t even breathe, and I couldn’t beg him not to stop, and I couldn’t tell him I was on the verge of falling to pieces, and I couldn’t stop my climax if I wanted to, and I didn’t want to, and I didn’t stop it, and—
I clapped a hand over my mouth an instant before I would have let go of a cry. My body shook and shuddered, and John groaned softly as I spent on his tongue.
As soon as he sat up over me, I grabbed the back of his neck with both hands and dragged him down to me. His tongue was salty-sweet from my release, and he breathed as rapidly and unevenly as I did. Sliding his arms under my back, he pressed his cock against me and groaned into my kiss.
The heating device’s warmth was tepid compared to the fiery heat of John’s body against mine. I had never been so damned overwhelmed by . . . anything. Anyone.
“Fuck me.” I clung to the back of his neck with trembling hands. “Please.”
John released a low growl and claimed a deep, needy kiss. Twice, he tried to pull away, his breath catching like he was about to speak, and each time, he came back down for more. Finally, the third time, he kept himself away and, breathing hard, whispered, “Stay just like that. Don’t . . . don’t move.”
I didn’t move. He pulled the white bottle from beside the bedrolls where he must have stashed it. The bottle top scraped, the uneven sound revealing the unsteadiness of his hands.
The top clinked, and John moved over me. He sat up, and I rested one leg against each of his hips. His hand drifted up my inner thigh, and I closed my eyes, anticipating that first slippery, cool contact, and when it came, my back lifted off the fur. He didn’t even let me catch my breath before he pushed one finger in. I moaned, squirming against him and trying to draw his finger in deeper. He withdrew it, then added another, and teased me relentlessly. In the wake of a climax, every motion of his fingers made me squirm and gasp.
The next groan was his, and he withdrew his fingers. “I can’t wait another second.” He barely breathed as he guided himself to me. “You can’t even imagine, Robert, if I—oh God . . .” The head of his cock slid into me, and I couldn’t say who trembled more or whose moan was more helpless. He pulled back a little, then slid in deeper, and we both released ragged breaths as he slowly buried himself to the hilt. One stroke, two, then a third, and with a shiver, he came down to me, seeking my mouth with his own. I wrapped my arms around him, and as we kissed, our bodies moved together, skin brushing skin and his cock sliding easily in and out of me.
Even as he fucked me and we touched every way two men could touch, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Never enough. I raked my fingers through his hair, clawed at his back, dragged my hands down his arms. I wanted more of him. I needed to taste him and breathe him and feel every sharp, hot exhalation across my skin.
Then John groaned and shuddered, and I thought he was on the verge of climaxing, but instead, with a throaty growl, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the fur. His head fell beside mine, and his breath alternately warmed and cooled my neck as he thrust into me like a man possessed. I hooked my ankles behind his back, and he drove deeper, drove harder.
“Oh God, Robert,” he breathed, nearly sobbing against my collarbone. “Oh God . . .”
I rocked my hips back, and he shuddered again. Deeper, harder, oh God, he fucked me mercilessly, until intense bordered on painful, until I’d have climaxed right then if I hadn’t already, until he finally buried his face against my neck and muffled a helpless groan. His back arched above us, his hips trembling as he tried to force his pulsing cock just a little farther inside me.
Then he collapsed. I freed my wrists and wrapped my arms around him, and for the longest time, we just held on to each other. Panting, shaking, sweating, we held each other.
His lips found mine, and between light, breathless kisses, he murmured, “You’re no one’s whore, Robert.”
“Not anymore.”
“Not anymore.” He stroked my hair with a trembling hand. “Now you’re just . . . mine.”
But for how long?
I banished the thought and kissed him again.
Eventually, John got up, and we cleaned ourselves off with a couple of rags he’d left near our bedrolls. Then we pulled the furs up over us and faced each other. His cheeks were still flushed—I had no doubt mine were too—and as warm as it was in here, inside our tent and beneath the blankets, it was hard to believe we were sleeping on frozen ground. Tomorrow, we’d trudge up the mountain, through the snow and ice, and by the time we set up camp for the night, we’d probably be numb from head to toe.
But here, tonight, we were warm and cozy.
John trailed his fingers down my cheek, and as he met my eyes, he smiled. I returned the smile, but a sinking feeling in my chest made me shift my gaze away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I swallowed and made myself look at him as I trailed my fingertips over his smooth jaw. “This is well and good tonight, but what happens when this is all over?”
Running his fingers through my hair, he shook his head. “I don’t know.”
We both knew how something like this would fare against reality. The deck was just too well stacked against us.
But I couldn’t let that knowledge ruin our evening. If this was the last night we ever spent like this, naked and warm in each other’s arms, then there was no sense wasting it on melancholy thoughts.
“I suppose,” I said, pausing to moisten my lips, “we shouldn’t think much further ahead than Dawson City. God only knows what will happen between here and there.”
He laughed softly and bent to kiss me. “In that case, I look forward to sorting this dilemma in Dawson City, because I fully intend to get there with you beside me.”
I grinned into his kiss. “All the more motivation for us both to make it in one piece.”
With another quiet laugh, he said, “Indeed it is.” He silenced any further conversation with a long kiss.
I tried not to let myself get too lost in fantasies about what might happen when all this was over. We had too many miles to go and too many dangers to face before we had any business trying to imagine the future, together or apart. And for that matter, John had come this far and faced all these dangers for his work—this was a man married to his work, and he’d all but said himself he’d chosen that work over lovers.
Once we’d finished in Dawson City, he’d go back to Chicago. Back to his laboratory. Back to the people who couldn’t know about his “immoral conduct.” There was no room for me in that world.
But that didn’t stop me from hoping.
The morning light found us tangled up in each other beneath the thick fur. Though we couldn’t afford to waste time, neither of us could resist just one more kiss. That kiss became a touch, the touch became an embrace, and the embrace led to the first of many deep, breathtaking strokes of his cock.
Daylight illuminated everything the shadows had hidden last night, and this time, when he wasn’t kissing me, he gazed down at me, and he didn’t look away, not until a shudder forced his eyes closed the instant he spent inside me. And still we held on, long after we’d both caught our breath and the feverish need had cooled.
I’d never coupled with a man so tenderly, and yet so hungrily. Gentle and desperate, all at once, until he left me aching from exertion and yet aching for more.
But we had our permit to cross the pass, so we couldn’t stay wrapped up together like this for long. After a few gentle kisses,
and a few touches that almost kept us here, we made ourselves get up and dressed. John turned off the heating device, and we stepped out into the biting wind.
“My God.” I hugged myself against the cold. “When this is all over, I’m going to go live someplace warm.”
John laughed through chattering teeth. “I might not be far behind you. Let’s break camp and get moving—the more we move, the warmer we’ll be.”
He was right, but only to a point. Standing still was miserably cold, moving only slightly less so, but I’d take any warmth I could get. We quickly took down our campsite, loaded up our mech, and made our way to the gate.
Several Mounties were stationed at the camp’s edge. While I waited for one of them to go over our permits and paperwork, John pulled another aside. They stepped around beside the inspection shack, almost out of sight but not completely.
I watched from the corner of my eye as John leaned in close to him, whispering something in his ear, and their bodies almost shielded a quick transfer of something from John’s hand to the Mountie’s. Then they shook hands, exchanged a few words, and separated.
As John came back toward me, I raised my eyebrows, glancing at the Mountie. His back was turned, and I wondered if anyone else saw him slip what looked like a wad of bills into the pocket of his trousers.
But I didn’t say anything until we’d passed through the gate. “What was that about? With the Mountie?”
“Never mind.” John glanced at me and winked.
I planted my feet. “John, are—”
“I’ll explain once we’ve gained some ground,” he said quietly. “Keep going.”
I hesitated. So far, though, John hadn’t deceived me, and at least we were getting away from that damned camp, so I continued beside him and the mech.
After we’d gone half a mile or so, I turned to him. “All right. What was that exchange?”
John grinned at me over the mech. “I merely paid him to move our ‘friends’ down the list.” He glanced over his shoulder as if someone might be around to hear him. “Assuming his word is good, I’ve bought us a head start.”