Beneath Me 30-32
“Well,” Emma uncrosses her legs. “That was invigorating.”
Erik steps back, slipping out of Charles far more quickly than Charles cares for. He straightens, up, reaching for his trousers. Emma just watches them as they tidy themselves.
“Shall we go down to tea?” Charles says with as much composure as he can muster.
“My pleasure.” She extends her hand, looking back over her shoulder at Erik. “You should probably go down the back staircase. Don't get comfortable in the stable,” She smirks at him. “I'm sure he'll have need of you again soon.”
“My lady.” Erik bows his head.
He goes one way down the hall while they go down the other. At the turn in the corridor, Charles looks back to see Erik at the top of the stairs. The man nods to him, and then disappears.
“You're far more interesting than I gave you credit for, Charles.” Emma murmurs. “I wouldn't have thought you'd ever risk being discovered with a stable-hand.”
“In all honesty, neither did I.” Charles responds.
“I can tell he's worth the risk.” Emma laughs lightly, and Charles can't help smiling.
He escorts her into the tea room, almost sad to relinquish her to her seat and take his own on the other side of the table.
After the exertions of the journey to the estate and then the exhibition with Emma, the conversation at tea is quite dull. Charles almost could have fallen asleep again, save for the soreness in his ass. Every time he shifts in his seat, Emma smirks knowingly at him. Charles shifts again and winces. His father and Shaw are deep in conversation and it's strange, but even though he knows what they're plotting, he's not dreading it as much as he was before.
Emma knows his darkest secret, and while this should be cause for concern, Charles is only oddly relieved. Their encounters have always been a match of wits, but never maliciously. He remembers when they were younger, how Emma had always dreamed of going to university. She certainly deserved to go as much as he did. Charles wondered how much she must hate her guarding for denying her studious pursuits, not to mention Charles himself for being allowed to do exactly that. Yet when he gaze across the table at her, Charles can't find any sense of hatred. Only amusement lingers in Emma's eyes.
It's not until early evening that Charles can slip away. The ladies are in the drawing room, and the gentlemen are playing billiards. He will be missed eventually, but he has to see Erik tonight.
Erik's loitering at the gate of the lower garden, as though he knew where Charles would come. He's smoking, the cigarette dangling between his lips reminding Charles all too well of that first true encounter.
“So you came then.”
“Yes.” Charles stands there on the path awkwardly. He half wants to apologize for what happened earlier, and half wants to threaten Erik to make sure he'll never tell anyone.
“Wasn't sure you would.” Erik takes a long drag on his cigarette and blows a smoke ring above their heads.
“I wanted...” Charles bites his lip. “About earlier...”
“She's to be your wife, I hear tell.” Erik observes.
“A man could marry a worse one.” Charles tells him haughtily. It's true. Emma's intelligent and witty, and beautiful. More than a match for him in every capacity.
Erik's looking at him though, with that knowing look. “You don't want a wife.” He tosses the cigarette away.
“Oh?” Charles waits for whatever nonsense the man's about to speak.
“You want me.” Erik's hands slide down to rest on his hips, holding him, not lewdly, not tightly, not...anything, just holding him. His warm fingers feel good on Charles's skin, and he wants this to last. Whatever it is.
“Yes,” he breathes at last. “I do want you.”
Erik's hands tighten on him, pulling him closer. “I want you too.” He kisses Charles then, one hand slipping up to cup the back of Charles's head. It's a long, lingering, devouring kiss that leaves Charles breathless and confused.
“Erik.”
Erik says nothing, simply presses him back against the garden wall, sucking hungrily at Charles's neck. His mouth claims Charles's skin, until Charles is moaning, arching up against him. As sore as he is from this morning, he desperately wants to be with Erik again. Here. Now. Anywhere. It doesn't matter as long as it's now.
“I want you.” He bites at Erik's neck.
Erik pulls back a moment, studying him, then nods. “Come on. The carriage house'll be empty.” He takes Charles's hand and leads him through the gate.
There are servants everywhere on an estate this size, but somehow they manage to avoid them. Erik leads Charles into the carriage house and props the door shut with a crate. Then he turns and grins at Charles.
“Take your pick.”
There's an array of carriages to choose from. Something with a top, would be most prudent, in case anyone did walk in. But Charles is feeling adventurous and the chaise, well, it suits his purposes better. He strides over to it and waits for Erik to join him.
“What'd you have in mind, then?” Erik's hands snake around to rest on his ass. “I'd wager you're still sore after earlier, eh?”
“You're not wrong.” Charles admits. And he still has to be able to ride tomorrow in the hunt, damnit. That doesn't stop him from turning around to draw Erik into a kiss. Christ, the man's mouth feels so good upon his own, his tongue mating with Charles's.
“Come on.” Charles says, a tad breathless and impatient, pulling Erik up into the chaise.
“What're you on about?” Erik inquires, but stretches out nonetheless.
Charles merely unfastens his trousers and stretches out atop him. “There.”
Erik gets the idea when Charles turns his attention to the bulge in his trousers. “You're full of surprises, you are.”
“I try.” Charles murmurs, undoing Erik's trousers and drawing him out. The man chooses that moment to lick across the head of Charles's cock, making Charles inhale sharply. Erik takes him all the way in and Charles manages not to thrust immediately into that wondrous mouth. Instead, he turns back to Erik's own cock. Wrapping his hand around the shaft, he takes only the tip in his mouth, teasing it with his lips.
Erik groans around his cock, sending a rush of heat straight through Charles's body. The way this man makes him feel. The things he does to Charles; the things he makes Charles wants to do. It's astounding. It's scandalous. It's dangerous.
Charles simply takes him deeper, until his nose is buried in Erik's pubic hair. He can feel Erik shifting slightly, altering his own hold on Charles's cock. And then they're moving, slowly, thrusting into each other's mouths. Charles clutches at Erik's ass, trying to hold him as close as possible. Almost as though he's trying to devour the other man's shaft. Erik pulls off to lick down Charles's length as his fingertip teases the vein underneath.
“Come for me, Charles,” He half croons the words, making them sound so soft and sweet, what can Charles do but surrender to him? Erik has his tongue wrapped around him just in time, dragging every last drop out of him as Charles comes down his throat. He can feel Erik groaning, as he swallows, and that's the only warning he gets before the stable-hand follows him. Charles swallows his come down, as Erik licks lazily at his cock. Rather like a cat, Charles thinks lazily. He lets the other man's shaft slip from between his lips slowly, before crawling up to lie against Erik.
Erik doesn't say a word now, simply cups his chin and leans down to kiss him, tasting himself on Charles's tongue. Their spent cocks lay against each other contentedly. Charles lets his tongue trail leisurely over Erik's, not wanting to break this moment. Each time, it's getting harder to part from the other man.
It shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't be getting attached. Charles frowns to himself. Erik pulls back a little, studying him.
“What?”
“Do you want me?” Charles asks. The question comes a trifle shyly. He hadn't meant to ask it straight out. He hadn't meant to ask it at all, and yet there it was.
“I wouldn't be here lying cock-to-cock with you if I didn't.” Erik drawls in amusement.
“Don't...” Charles hesitates. Even now he can feel the heat rising between them again as Erik rubs against him gently. “Don't make light of this.”
Erik arches an eyebrow at him. “Don't make light of a gentleman taking his ease with a servant? What am I to make of it then?”
“What do you want to make of it?” Charles returns. His heart is beating faster in his chest.
“This.” Erik pulls Charles fully on top of him, groins flush against each other. His hands rest on Charles's ass, palming each cheek, stroking him. “I want you. At night when I lie awake above the stables, I take myself in hand and think of you. When I see you striding about the estate, I want to drag you by your fancy coat off into the bushes and make you beg for it. I want...” His hands still for a moment and they lie there, warm on Charles's skin. “I want you to wake beside me some morning, and not have to rush off in fear that someone will discover us.”
There's something in Erik's eyes that makes Charles's throat tighten. He leans down to kiss the other man. “I want that too.”
“But you're marrying Lord Shaw's ward.” Erik murmurs against his lips.
“Something tells me, Emma won't exactly have a problem with our arrangement.” Charles teases his lower lip.
“Maybe so.” Erik acknowledges. “Still...”
He doesn't say any more. And for now Charles doesn't want him to. There have been enough confessions for one night. For now, it's enough to rest his head against Erik's chest, and his cock against Erik's.