“You’re doing just fine,” Augustus said. He was breathing harder than usual. “Oh, shit, you’re a fast learner.”
Elias continued to work his shaft, tension rising within him as he got even harder, his brow growing damp with sweat, his dick beginning to leak a thin fluid that trickled down his shaft, making his movements even slicker, faster…
“Christ,” Augustus said softly. The chair creaked again as he shifted. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen. Eli, you’re driving me mad.”
Without intending to, Elias issued a low moan. “Oh,” he whispered. “Oh, Augustus, this feels so good…I don’t even have words.”
“You’re doing wonderfully, Eli, just keep doing what you’re doing,” Augustus encouraged. His voice was deeper and more upper-class sounding than usual, which heightened Elias’s excitement. Elias wanted Augustus to kiss him, but he did not think he could speak to request it anymore, and he did not want to stop what he was doing to stand. “Just like that…yes…good…faster…yes.” Something brushed the tip of Elias’s dick.
It all ended very quickly in a culmination of clenching muscles, full-body prickling, and transcendence. Elias thought he might have cried out, but then he was adrift, floating in a seconds-long abyss of bliss. It was the strangest, most pleasant sensation he had ever experienced.
When he became aware of the present again, Elias realized he was lying on his back on the bed, legs still dangling over the side.
“How was it?” Augustus asked, hushed.
“Amazing,” Elias said, still dazed. “What was that?”
“An orgasm,” Augustus replied. “It’s what I want to give you someday.”
“I wouldn’t stop you. Ever.”
The floor creaked as Augustus stood. “You make…a fluid, when you orgasm,” he said. “It comes out the end of your dick. I put out my handkerchief to catch it at the last minute, but it’s important you remember to do that yourself when you’re alone.”
“Interesting.”
“But, er, I should probably go,” Augustus said.
“Go?” Elias asked, sitting up. He had the strange compulsion to hold Augustus, but he refrained.
“Yes,” Augustus said, and tucked Elias’s dick back into the front of his trousers without touching it, then buttoned them shut for him. Elias stood.
“Where?”
“My room at the Prissy Peacock,” Augustus murmured, and kissed Elias’s ear. “And a tip for you: try massaging your balls next time.” Something hard pressed into Elias’s hip as Augustus leaned closer, and Elias’s dick twitched halfheartedly.
“Are you going to—”
“Never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow. Keep practicing.”
Augustus was by the door when he paused. “You’ll do it again, right?” he asked.
“I should think so,” Elias replied.
“Good.” Augustus hesitated. “Will you think about me?” he asked, sounding nervous. Elias decided to rein in his sass for a moment.
“I always do,” he murmured. It was true. Augustus was always on his mind. He was an obsession.
“I mean when you’re touching yourself.”
“Should I?”
“I’d like it if you did. I always think of you.”
Elias snorted, but all he wanted was have Augustus’s bulge pressing into his hip and his breath in his ear again. “Don’t push your luck.”
* * * *
Self-abuse was fabulous. Elias had no idea how he had gone twenty years without it.
“What’re you looking so pleased about?” Bess asked him that evening as they prepared for sleep. “You’re grinning like a fucking Cheshire cat.”
“Nice day, that’s all,” Elias said, flopping into bed.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Bess asked, sounding suspicious. “I’ve never seen you look this way.”
“What do I look like?”
“Dazed and confused, like your head isn’t on straight.”
“I’m tired,” Elias said. “Put out the candle, would you?” He slept like a rock that night.
Chapter Twenty-One
Augustus did not kiss Elias for the rest of the week, nor did he ask about Elias’s solitary activities. Five days after their last kiss, Elias could take it no more.
“I’ve been doing my lessons,” Elias said one afternoon. He did not mean his pianoforte ones. Though he still had money for sessions with Mrs. Brown, which he attended, he did not practice as often as he once did. He had other things on his mind, though Augustus sometimes reminded him. Augustus liked to listen to him play, even though they both knew the pianoforte was out of tune.
Augustus, who had been dining on Bess’s peach compote now that he had acquired the taste for her desserts, dropped his spoon. Elias was sitting across from him at the table in the middle of the tavern. They were alone. “Oh?” Augustus asked.
“Yes.”
“And?” Augustus prompted.
“I think I’m a star student.”
Augustus said nothing, but by the sound of it, had retrieved his spoon and was stirring his compote.
“Open up,” Augustus said.
“Why?”
“Open up.”
Sighing, Elias opened his mouth, and Augustus spoon-fed him a mouthful of compote. The spoon went in slowly, gliding past Elias’s lips, which he pursed around it. Augustus withdrew, and the compote, cool, smooth, and sweet, was deposited on Elias’s tongue. He let the cream melt before swallowing.
“Mm,” Elias said, frowning. “Thanks.”
Augustus leaned across the table, and Elias could feel his breath on his cheek. “That made me hot,” Augustus murmured. “I could watch you eat for days.”
“Why?”
Augustus dropped his spoon again. When he spoke, his voice was weak. “Let’s go upstairs.”
The door had barely closed behind them before Augustus knocked Elias to the bed, cradling his head, and kissed him silly.
“Aug—” Panting, Elias put a hand between their mouths and another on Augustus’s chest. Augustus was stretched on top of him, his hands tangled in Elias’s hair, a knee between Elias’s legs.
“What is it?” Augustus asked.
Then, not knowing what came over him, Elias moved his fingers from where they touched Augustus’s lips, and trailed them over the rest of Augustus’s face. Elias traced his brows (thick and bristly under a strong forehead), the orbits of his eyes (large, split by lines of dense lashes), his nose (long and straight, with a bit of an upward swoop), his hard and angular cheeks, the two little ridges above his mouth, his lips (supple and kissable), his chin (shaved bare), and then his lips again. Augustus endured this in silence, and kissed Elias’s fingertips when he finished.
“You’re a patient man,” Elias murmured.
“I liked that.”
“Why?”
“You never look at me. Not the way anyone else does. And I understand why, but now I feel like you’ve seen me.”
Elias snorted.
“No, don’t laugh. It means something to me.”
“All right,” Elias said, and kissed Augustus’s ear. He had been aiming for his cheek, but Augustus must have moved. The ear would do.
“I like it when you kiss my ear too,” Augustus said after a minute or two. “But for a different reason.”
“What’s that?”
“It makes me hard.”
Emboldened, Elias felt his way to Augustus’s groin. “So it does.”
“Yes.”
Elias kissed Augustus’s ear again, then his neck.
“Fuck.”
“Neck kisses are nice, aren’t they?” Elias asked.
“They’re sublime.”
Elias coaxed Augustus to roll over, then slid on top of him, pressing the lengths of their bodies together. Augustus trailed his hands over Elias’s loose curls.
“I can’t believe your father knows we come up here together and doesn’t care.”
“Hmm.”
“Has he never minded you like men?”
“No. I mean, I’ve never explicitly told him I’m like that, you know, no ‘Sit down, Father, I’d like to talk to you about how I daydream about kissing boys in my spare time,’ but I’ve always talked about boys in front of him with Bess and he doesn’t ever say anything negative. He even asked me if you’re a good kisser.”
“That’s unbelievable.”
“Why?”
“My father kicked me out when he found out I was flirting with the stableboy and could not be persuaded to stop.”
His family had had a stableboy? Augustus must have been gentry. Once upon a time. And so that was how someone with a name like Augustus Westwood had wound up a highwayman.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Elias kissed Augustus’s neck again, adding a little tongue this time. Augustus unbuttoned Elias’s shirt for him, then traced Elias’s nipples with his thumbs.
“Fuck,” Elias murmured, as Augustus massaged his chest. Bess had once said something about how she liked having her breasts massaged, but Elias had never imagined he would enjoy it too. He did not even have breasts. He had only the vaguest notion of what they were. But Augustus’s caresses were driving him mad.
“Jesus Christ.” Augustus pushed his hips up against the front of Elias’s trousers. It was pressure against pressure, and it made Elias’s stomach flutter and his dick tighten.
“Oh.”
The door to the bedroom swung over.
“Are you buggering my son?” It was Elias’s father, and he did not sound any drunker than he usually was. Augustus tensed beneath Elias. Elias pushed Augustus’s hands from his chest and tried to button his shirt, but fumbled in his anxiety.
“No, sir,” Augustus said. “That is one thing we have not done. Yet.”
“Yet?” Elias demanded. They had not discussed this. He did not rightly know what buggering was. Still preoccupied with his clothing, he mentally cursed the person who had invented such fiddly things as buttons.
“Yet,” Augustus repeated, ruffling Elias’s hair. Elias squirmed away and sat up.
“And do you plan on doing that under my roof?” Elias’s father continued.
“Yes, sir, if he wants me to. Much better than the stables or a field, don’t you think?”
“I had his mother in a field once. It was nice. I recommend it.”
Elias had to bite his tongue to keep from exclaiming. He had given up on his buttons.
“Right. Thank you, sir. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Are you going to have him now?”
“That was not my intention, sir.”
“And what is your intention at this moment?”
“Only kiss and hold, sir, only kiss and hold. Maybe a little rubbing.”
“I see.”
“Rest assured, you’ll be the first to know when he decides to let me do more than that.”
“When?” Elias snapped.
“When,” Augustus affirmed.
“Fine. But if I hear of you mistreating him, you’ll have to deal with me. Is that clear, you smug little sod?”
“Yes, sir. You’ve made that quite clear already.”
“Good. See you, Elias.”
“Hear you, Father,” Elias said, his cheeks aflame.
When the door had shut, Augustus rolled on top of Elias and pinned him to the mattress, arms above his head. “Your family is amazing.” He kissed Elias’s neck, his breaths warm against his shivering flesh.
“It’s really not. My father hits me when he gets too drunk.”
“If he ever does that, you let me know. I’ll have a chat with him.”
“I hardly think you’re any match for the likes of Brian Burgess. My father has thirty years’ experience tossing inebriated ne’er-do-wells into the streets.”
“I never get drunk. And I have a pistol. Or I did. I don’t know what’s become of it. I’ll have to buy another.”
Elias laughed. “Maybe I’ll get drunk, just to find out how you manage.” A thought occurred to him. “Have you ever done it?”
“Done what?”
“Buggery.”
Augustus sighed. “I told you, I’m as much a novice as you.”
“Right. So, what would we do? I’m not saying I want to do anything beyond kiss, hold, and rub, but if I did, later, what would we do?”
Augustus chuckled. “Oh, you know what to do.”
Elias, embarrassed, cleared his throat. “I don’t.”
“Aw, shut up,” Augustus said, and kissed Elias’s cheek. His lips were trembling. “Quit playing innocent.”
“I’m not.”
“Everyone knows what buggery is. There’s no shame in knowing.”
Elias’s embarrassment mutated into frustration. “I don’t know, you twat.”
Augustus was quiet a long moment. “Jesus, are you serious?”
“Yes! Of course I’m fucking serious! Why the hell would I lie?”
Augustus breathed in and out slowly.
“Tell me what we would do!” Elias cried, clenching his fists and pushing up against Augustus’s hold. Augustus rolled off him and let him struggle into a seated position.
“Elias…”
“Don’t hold back now, you bandy-legged ponce!”
“Er…”
“Augustus!”
Augustus sighed.
“Right, well, you see…I…”
Then it dawned on Elias. “You don’t know either.”
“That’s not what I said!”
“But you don’t.”
“Yes.”
“I thought everyone knew what buggery was?”
“I’m not everyone. Neither are you.”
“Great,” Elias groaned. “So we have all this attraction and don’t know what to do with it.”
“Does Bess know?”
“Why the hell would my sister know what two men do together?”
“I don’t know. She seems experienced.”
“Are you calling my sister loose?”
“Well, she’s your twin, isn’t she?”
Elias made to shove Augustus and missed.
“You look very sweet right now,” Augustus offered.
“Fuck off,” Elias grumbled.
“Aw, honey.” Augustus pushed Elias flat onto the bed again and lay down beside him, one arm draped over his chest. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.” Elias tried to shrug him away but failed.
“Good. Because I was going to ask if it’s all right if we rubbed against one another. I think I’d like that. I liked it when you used your hand in the glen, anyway.”
“I liked that too,” Elias admitted. “So it’s all right.”
“Thank God. But I want to rub us together…below.”
“Go right ahead.”
Augustus straddled his hips, pinned Elias’s wrists to the mattress, and ground their groins together as he kissed Elias hard and deep. His tongue parted Elias’s lips, slipped inside his mouth, and, paired with the rotation of their hips, teased a moan of pleasure from Elias’s lips.
“Fuck, that sound you just made,” Augustus whispered. “I could come from that alone.”
Elias arched his back off the bed in his enthusiasm to force their hips as close as they could go. His desire was mounting to unprecedented levels, and now that he knew how to masturbate, all he wanted to do was take his dick and rub it until he came. Maybe Augustus could do it for him.
A thought occurred to him. Maybe that was buggery. Stroking another man until he came.
“Do you think buggery’s just stroking someone else?” he asked. Augustus let him go, and Elias rolled on top of him.
“Is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Augustus murmured.
“Maybe.”
“I don’t know what that is. I always thought buggery was supposed to be really wicked or something, though. That doesn’t seem bad. That sounds rather tame, actually.”
“Well, yes, but not in the traditional sense. Do you know what I mean?”
“Not really.”
Augustus massaged Elias’s ass as though absent-mindedly as they talked. Elias had to bite his lip to keep from moaning again. He felt as though there was an itch within him he could not scratch, created in response to Augustus’s hands.
“I don’t want to hurt you. But I want to do all kinds of things to you, with you, if you like them, that is.”
“Right.”
“You look confused.”
“I am. I just don’t know what we’re talking about, or if I’ll even like any of them.” A distant memory returned to him. “I think it would involve my face. Mr. Sweeton said he wanted to sodomize my face once.”
“He said what?” Augustus asked sharply. He sounded angry, and he stopped massaging Elias’s ass. Elias sat on Augustus’s stomach as he considered this development.
“Are you jealous? Can’t bear the idea of another man wanting me?”
“That’s not what I said,” Augustus countered. “I just think that’s a terribly rude thing to say to someone.”
“Depends on context.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you said that to me, I might say yes.”
“Oh.”
“But I wasn’t feeling it with Mr. Sweeton.”
There was a sound as though Augustus had just swallowed hard. “Who is Mr. Sweeton, anyway, and how do you know him?”
“The militiaman from Mitton. You know, the one Kenneth knows too. You may have seen him in passing or evaded him, I suppose. I know him because he’s the nephew of the seamstress who lives down the lane.”
“I see.”
“I don’t like him, though, not like that. We’ve kissed, like I told you. And I haven’t seen him since he stopped by that one night you were away. But I feel more when you so much as take my hand.”
“Good.”
Augustus rearranged himself against the pillows, and Elias, who had still been seated on his abdomen, slipped down his stomach to Augustus’s groin. His ass came to rest right on top of the hard mound there, and then he knew.
He knew what buggery was.
It was an instinctual and instant realization, and he was certain. He pressed his rear down hard against Augustus’s swollen cock. By the feel of it, Augustus had figured it out too.
The Highwayman Came Riding Page 15