Gethin’s heart raced. One little word that he’d been denying himself for so long. Surely he could say it now, here in the privacy of this room with the promise of more of Zachary’s touches an almost tangible thing between them. Here in this no man’s land where Zachary promised they were equals.
In the quiet of the room Zachary breathed heavily, and, against his cheek, Gethin could feel the slight tremor that ran through his fingers. Strangely, Zachary’s agitation helped to settle Gethin’s nerves, although his hands still trembled and his heart thudded noisily against his chest.
Propriety be damned. How could he deny himself with Zachary’s lips pressed against his skin, so tantalisingly close to a real kiss that Gethin could practically taste it?
“I trust you…” Gethin paused and took a deep breath. It cleaved a path downward, freeing the name that he’d previously held so close to his heart, “Zachary. I always have.”
It felt good, saying Zachary’s name out loud. He tried it again, this time relishing every syllable that flowed over his lips. “Zachary.”
For a moment Zachary seemed to go boneless against him, his breath hitching before ending on a gentle sigh that puffed against Gethin’s cheek. Then, in a flurry of movement, he was upon Gethin, hard and fast in an assault of lips and teeth. Too harsh, too much. Gethin froze. Zachary must have sensed his uncertainty, because he pulled back.
“Sorry,” Zachary said, a little bashfully as he stroked his thumb over Gethin’s cheekbone. “I’ve just wanted this for so long.” The next foray was little more than a gentle sway towards Gethin, the hand on his face guiding him, until their lips touched. “From the first moment I saw you, I wanted this,” he murmured against Gethin’s lips. “Never thought you’d let me.”
“Zachary.” The name came out more breathless than he’d intended and Zachary moaned deep in the back of his throat before he resumed the kiss. Concentrating on Zachary’s movements, Gethin attempted to copy him, his kiss a faint echo.
Zachary pulled back a fraction. “Relax. Just do what feels good.” He smiled reassuringly.
Gethin nodded and leant in closer, catching sight of Zachary’s wide smile just before he felt it against his lips. A hand against the back of his head held him in place and fingers caught in strands of hair, tugging, pulling slightly against his scalp.
It didn’t hurt, but he hadn’t been expecting it and he couldn’t stop his surprised gasp. Held firmly, he was powerless to stop his lips opening against Zachary’s, completely unprepared for the sweep of warm pressure inside his mouth. He couldn’t hide his discomfort, not the slight flinch or the sudden clench of his muscles. Zachary’s lips disappeared but, thankfully, they didn’t go far, peppering Gethin’s jaw and cheeks with fleeting chaste kisses.
Of course, fickle creature he knew himself to be, as soon as they’d gone Gethin wanted Zachary’s lips back on his own. Needed them, no matter how good they felt tracing the line of his jaw. Turning his head, he tried to chase their path over his skin.
“Please.” Gethin couldn’t be sure if he’d said the word out loud. He wasn’t beyond begging to get Zachary back where he wanted him, but it appeared he only had to ask.
Zachary’s lips were on his again in an instant, restraint lingering just below the surface of the kiss. His fingers, which had never once left Gethin’s hair, stroked down, toying with the strands at his nape. Gethin wanted to melt into the touch, to open up to Zachary and feel him everywhere. This time, he didn’t wait for a touch to instigate a gasp of surprise or pleasure for Zachary to take advantage of. This time, he allowed the kiss to ease his mouth open naturally and waited for the shock of intrusion.
Seconds felt like a lifetime as Zachary seemed to consider Gethin’s meagre offering, and then pushed inside. Awkward and intrusive, Gethin tried not to fight the unusual feeling of Zachary’s exploration. Certain he should be more involved—and undeniably curious—Gethin tentatively flicked his tongue over Zachary’s, sliding off and away before he could even register texture or taste, and he wondered if Zachary even noticed. But notice he must, for he paused. Gethin took advantage of the lull to make another, firmer, pass with his own tongue. His clumsy attempt seemed to spur Zachary into action once again, the kiss turning frantic and desperate. Teeth scraping and noses bumping as they fought to find the right angle. It was hard, messy, perfect.
Gethin needed something to hold on to before he lost himself in Zachary and the kiss. His hands, hanging loosely at his sides, groped for something solid and found a fistful of cotton jersey. Grabbing at Zachary’s shirt, Gethin hauled him closer, hips slotting together easily.
The pressure of Zachary’s hip against his aching flesh, even through the layers of clothing, was a blessed relief and he rocked mindlessly into it until his brain caught up with his actions. If he could feel the sharp curve of Zachary’s hipbone then his own reaction to Zachary could no longer be a secret.
Mortified, Gethin tried to put some distance between the lower half of their bodies but, when he attempted to pull away, a hand settled at the small of his back, holding him in place. Zachary pulled him closer, trapping Gethin’s hand, still full of soft cotton, between their bodies. Plastered together, with Zachary’s hips nestled purposefully against him, Gethin finally let go, finally let himself feel.
He had no reason to be embarrassed about the throbbing ache at his groin, not when the roll of Zachary’s hips proved Gethin wasn’t the only one affected by their kiss. Firm flesh rubbed and rocked against him with intent and, combined with the low moans Zachary fed into his mouth, Gethin’s desire overwhelmed him. Control slipping, he ground back against Zachary and Zachary let him, only breaking the kiss to groan encouragement. Nonsense and filth exhaled on a moan. Yes. Harder. More.
Heat flooded his body, igniting tiny flames in every nerve. Gethin recognised the low drawn-out tingling of desire and knew it was too late to undress before his pleasure overwhelmed him. His underwear would take the brunt of his release, sticky warmth soaking into the thin cotton until eventually it would chafe, raw against the head of his dick.
How he wanted that! Wanted Zachary to be the one to push him off the edge of the precipice. Just a word would do now. His name moaned on Zachary’s lips could send him falling to oblivion, if he could only hear it over the hammering in his chest and his ears. It sounded hollow, like wood…
“The door,” Zachary panted out, extracting himself from Gethin’s embrace.
He reached up and brushed a hand through Gethin’s hair, Gethin leaning in to the touch without conscious thought.
“Ready?”
“Ready?” he echoed, blinking at the question as the sound of reality encroached through the bubble of fantasy and want.
“To let the butler in to clear the table,” Zachary answered.
Let someone in? To their sanctuary? No. Someone who could look and judge. Whisper. Tell.
“No!” Gethin croaked the word out between suddenly dry lips, breaking away from the hand which still lingered in his hair and severing the final link between them. Without sparing a glance in Zachary’s direction, Gethin rushed for the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He leant back against the wood, determined to catch his breath and slow the rapid beating of his heart.
Beyond the door, the knocking came again. He heard Zachary’s command to enter. Muffled conversation followed, but Gethin didn’t strain to listen.
Instead, he moved towards the sink, running cold water to splash on his face, the chill of it cooling his fevered skin. Glancing up, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Droplets of water dripped off his eyelashes, and Gethin half expected steam to rise as each drip landed on cheeks aflame with heat. A bead of moisture caught on his upper lip and he swiped it away with his tongue, finding the flesh tender and swollen. Studying his reflection closer, he saw bright, wild eyes and messy hair which only added to the picture of total debauchery. There could be no doubt as to what he’d been doing.
Thank the Lord he’d fled to the bathroom. If a member of the staff saw him in this state then word of what they’d been doing would be all over the consulate by morning.
Did Zachary’s features bear the same marks of Gethin’s enthusiastic but inexperienced kisses? Had he left Zachary in a similar state? Did Zachary have the experience to hide it?
He already knew Zachary liked men. Other men. Something flared, tight and uncomfortable, in his chest and although it would be easier if he could convince himself that emotion was regret, the tang of jealousy was undeniable. He only regretted that they’d been interrupted.
What was he doing? Not only would he go to Hell for lusting after a man, but if anyone found out it wouldn’t just be his own life ruined but Zachary’s as well. Would they be more lenient with Zachary because he was an officer? Gethin could only hope so.
But he said he wanted you just as much. Gethin beat back the little voice in his head that reminded him of Zachary’s words.
He would return to his own room and they would talk no more about Gethin’s indiscretion. Zachary would understand.
Light-headed with the thought of what he’d almost done, Gethin swayed, brushing his groin against the cool porcelain of the basin.
He cupped a hand around himself, unable to stop the moan.
He couldn’t believe how hard kissing Zachary made him; how his excitement remained, encased in the hollow of his palm, despite the fear of being caught. The interruption had dulled the frantic edge of his desire but nothing could suppress the fire pulsing through his body. Nothing but Zachary.
Talk of the devil.
“Gethin, the butler’s gone. You can come out now.”
No. He’d already decided he would hide away in his room. The sound of Zachary’s voice couldn’t lure him out. He wouldn’t allow the persuasive tone to change his mind.
“I’ve asked the butler to bring us some coffee. I’ve wanted to taste coffee from your tongue since you brought me that very first mug.”
Oh my Lord. Gethin could just imagine the heat of Zachary’s mouth, fresh with the bitter tang of coffee, the sweep of his tongue in Gethin’s mouth over and over.
A fresh wave of desire sent more blood pounding towards his groin. Growing harder than ever, his dick filled the curved recess of his hand and it took no thought at all to press against the weight and heat to exert a glorious pressure.
This time, he couldn’t prevent the low guttural noise from slipping between his lips. He could barely believe such a wanton sound came from him.
“Gethin, you’re not finishing without me, are you?” Zachary’s voice sounded light but there was something else Gethin could hear the under the teasing tone. Desperation, maybe? “Don’t. Please.”
Definitely desperate. But Zachary wasn’t the only one. The pleasure the press of his hand gave him increased tenfold with the minute rocking motion of his hips and Zachary’s urgent voice outside the door. This was starting to become a habit. With a great deal of effort, Gethin placed both hands on the edge of the basin.
“Please,” Zachary said once more. And there could be no denying the begging in that one word. “I really need to see your face when you—”
“Damn it, Zachary!” Gethin tightened his grip on the basin until his knuckles turned almost as white as the porcelain. He managed to grind out further words through sheer will alone. “With respect, stop talking. You’re killing me here.”
Something solid came into contact with the connecting door, the thud of it reverberating around the bathroom. Silence followed as the echo of the sound slipped away then Zachary asked, “Can I come in?”
Gethin couldn’t refuse him, not as breathless and broken as he sounded. He could deny Zachary nothing, if truth be known. “Of course.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the first creak of the mechanism, watching as the brass handle moved slowly, almost as if Zachary were scared he might bolt at any sudden movements. Not too far from the truth considering his earlier decision to hide away; a resolution that turned to dust the moment the door swung open and Zachary appeared.
Gethin managed a tight smile in greeting although, from Zachary’s startled expression, it must have been more of a grimace.
“Are you all right?”
Mute, Gethin nodded, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror again. No wonder Zachary was watching him with a concerned expression; he looked wrecked.
“Panicked.” Was that what prompted his flight? It felt like the truth. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologise for. If you’d been standing beside me looking like that, I wouldn’t have been able to pull myself together.”
“Why aren’t you…?” Gethin broke off and gestured to his reflection in the mirror. Zachary moved, his image appearing in the glass beside Gethin’s own. In the harsh light of the bathroom, Gethin could see cracks in Zachary’s polished exterior, his gaze hungry and his lips reddened from kissing, shirt creased in the centre of his chest from where Gethin had grabbed him. He glanced over his shoulder and ran his gaze down towards Zachary’s groin where a solid bulge could be clearly discerned behind the khaki material. Relief that Zachary appeared equally affected by their liaison was quickly replaced by a fear that took hold and wouldn’t let go. If he could see the effect he’d had on Zachary—and for a second the fear abated with an irrational surge of pride—wouldn’t it be obvious to everyone? Gethin turned back and once more spoke to Zachary’s reflection. “How did the butler not realise?”
“People see what they want to see. He wouldn’t have expected us to be doing anything other than having dinner. Without your presence in the room, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. My slightly agitated appearance could have any number of explanations, none of which would be connected to you.” Zachary’s image in the mirror grew larger as he came closer. “Another like us might have noticed—”
“Like us?”
“Queer. Poofters.” Zachary shrugged, stepping even closer, and now Gethin could feel the heat of Zachary’s body down the length of his back. “Homosexual. Take your pick. The name others give us means nothing.”
“Others…like us. They can tell by looking?”
“Sometimes. Not just by looking though. They might recognise a kindred spirit, but they would have no reason to tell anyone. Why make waves?”
Moist breath on his nape, hands resting lightly on his hips, and Gethin wanted nothing more than to lean back into that comforting presence. All the confusing decisions were easier, more natural—an unusual choice of words given the deviance of their relationship—with Zachary nearby.
“Something’s bothering you?” Zachary’s reflection frowned. “Tell me.”
More than one thing, if truth be known, but with Zachary, hard, at his back and the throbbing in his own groin, only one thing bothered him enough to ask. “On board there are more guys like us?”
“It’s not for me to say, but I think you already know the answer.” Zachary’s eyes flickered away for the first time since he’d stepped into Gethin’s line of sight. “Yes,” Gethin agreed, “but how could you tell? Beyond a hunch.”
“They were talking Polari. That day at your bunk.”
“Dipesh and Johnny.” Gethin nodded to himself. “What’s Polari?”
“A shared language. A way of confirming that hunch.”
“Chicken?” Gethin said with a self-deprecating laugh. “You all must’ve thought me stupid.”
“Young and innocent. It’s almost what chicken means.”
It hadn’t made sense at the time but with this new perspective… “Were you all fighting over me?” That sounded ridiculous. Embarrassed, Gethin dropped his gaze to the basin before he said something stupid again.
“Maybe.”
“Really?” He snapped his head up and met Zachary’s gaze in the mirror. Memories of his conversation with Johnny came back to him. “Was I making your life a misery?”
“Why would you ask that? Did somebody say something?”
“Johnny implied it. Said me being around must’ve been driving you crazy.”
“Frustrated, maybe, but never miserable. Apart from those few days when you refused to see me.”
“He recognised a kindred spirit in you and, evidently, in me too. And both him and Dipesh speak Polari and offered to help me. So they’re—”
“Like us, yes. Can we stop talking about Chopra and Vincent now?” This time it was Zachary’s turn to break eye contact, but only to drop his lips to the curve of Gethin’s neck and trail a line of kisses to a point just below his ear. “I’d like to carry on where we left off before we were interrupted. I’m just about ready to explode. We don’t have to, if you’re not ready,” Zachary interspersed his words with quick kisses that heated Gethin’s skin to boiling point, “We can just talk if you need to, but I’ll need a few minutes alone to…take care of business before I’ll be able to concentrate. Or stop touching you.”
Damn Zachary for putting that image into his head. A picture formed in Gethin’s mind that left him, pressed as he was between the basin and Zachary’s clothed dick, teetering on the edge of a yawning precipice.
“Don’t you dare.” Gethin struggled to turn in the tight hold, but he twisted to face Zachary. “Don’t stop touching me.”
He surged up to meet Zachary’s lips, but before they could come together a familiar sound came from Zachary’s room. Sighing, Zachary rested his forehead on Gethin’s own. “Bloody bugger! The coffee.” He released Gethin’s hips and stepped away, his gaze pleading. “I’ll get rid of him as quickly as possible. Please don’t change your mind.”
“Not a chance.” Gethin smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He was going to Hell anyway; his thoughts guaranteed that. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. His father always said he was wicked beyond salvation, and at least now he knew why. Strangely, knowing that his wickedness was buried too deep within him for fighting it to have made a difference gave him a warped sense of peace. How right he felt, now he recognised what made him wrong.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, when you first realise, but it does get easier.” Gethin hadn’t noticed Zachary’s return until he spoke. He waited in the doorway, blond, tanned and damn near perfect, and Gethin imagined everything came easy to him. He had that casual acceptance of events that would’ve taken an attraction to men in its stride.
Gethin had expected Zachary to come in the room and get him. Instead, he simply held out one hand.
His choice. If Gethin wanted this, he would have to walk towards Zachary on his own. No coercion of touch or brain-addled confusion due to the inviting warmth of Zachary’s body. Just a hand extended in trust, offering to show Gethin all the older man knew. Offering truth.
He needed that, didn’t he? As much as he craved Zachary’s touch to release the tension taut within him, he needed to look into his soul and consider who—what—he really was. In the mirror, Gethin caught a glimpse of his own confused and doubting reflection. Zachary’s normally bright eyes were shadowed by the doorframe, but the tight pull of his lips, slightly to one side, gave away his concern.
“How can it get easier? When it’s wrong?” Gethin asked.
Zachary’s lips thinned further.
He thinks I’ve changed my mind. Gethin took a step in Zachary’s direction and then another, not taking his eyes from Zachary’s lips. Lips that kissed him so enthusiastically.
“That’s what people would say if they found out about us.” Despite his words, Gethin’s voice remained calm as he continued moving forwards. With every step closer, the tension appeared to leave Zachary’s lips. Until a faint smile danced over them.
“That this…us…” Gethin waved a hand between them, almost close enough to reach out and touch Zachary’s outstretched fingers. “We’re wrong. In the eyes of the Lord. The law.”
“A vengeful God or a misguided legal system. What are you more scared of?” Zachary asked.
“Letting you walk away.” Reaching out, Gethin brushed his fingers over the outstretched palm that had guided him across the room then closed his hand around Zachary’s. “Being with you feels right. Not bad or wicked. I feel like I’m not lost anymore.”
“Come on.” Zachary tugged at their joined hands and Gethin went willingly, ducking his head to accept the kiss Zachary pressed to the corner of his mouth. Zachary smiled against his jaw. “I’m going to make you forget about bad and wicked, right or wrong. Tonight I just want you to feel.”