Pulling his watch from his pocket, Andrew glanced down at it for the third time in as many minutes. He stowed it again in his pocket and leaned against the wall, consciously relaxing his muscles. The discussion with Phoebe had left him on edge, his nerves frayed. Jeremy would be here. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Jeremy rounded the corner, panting. He threw an apologetic glance Andrew’s way.
“You aren’t late,” Andrew said. “I’ve been out for most of the day, so I came straight here.”
The stables of Avery were some of the finest in Wiltshire, a point of pride for Andrew, as it had been for his uncle. Some of their stallions had sired champions with mares from neighbouring farms. This was his favourite place of the manor. The stone building was long and fairly narrow, the shape allowing for a row of horses on either side of the dirt walkway inside. He led Jeremy through the open doors. Two horses had been brought out of their boxes: Hermes and a dapple grey mare.
Andrew walked over to the mare and stroked her nose. “This is Daisy. You’ll be on her for our ride.”
She was one of their gentlest mares, and would respond to the most inexperienced of riders. It helped that Hermes liked her. The two had produced a beautiful foal a few years earlier. It had come in third at the Epsom Derby.
Stepping up on the other side of her, Jeremy ran a hand down her neck. “I get a mare?”
“You’re not experienced enough for a stallion and none of our geldings are as gentle. She’s a good horse. I wouldn’t think twice about riding her.” The last sentence was deliberate, to soften the blow to Jeremy’s pride, but Andrew needed to keep him safe.
After a moment, Jeremy nodded and looked over to the black stallion beside Daisy. “What’s his name?”
“Hermes.”
“Like the Greek god?”
Andrew smiled. “Exactly like the Greek god.”
Eyeing the horse warily, Jeremy took a step away. “Because he’s fast or because he’s a trickster?”
“A bit of both, truth be told.” Taking Hermes by the reigns, he led the horse toward the stable doors, motioning for Jeremy to do the same with Daisy. “Some days, he’s nearly too much for even me. Thus I put you on a gentler horse.”
A young stable hand followed them out, carrying a small, wooden box.
“Here, sir.” The boy brushed his hair back from his face as he set the box next to Daisy. “Use this. It makes mounting much easier.”
Andrew hoisted himself into the saddle, swinging his leg over Hermes’ broad back. When he looked over, Jeremy had managed to seat himself.
“Ready?”
“Of course. Will the basket not fall like that?”
The saddle Andrew had fitted Hermes with had a small, open-topped storage box attached to the back. The leather box was light enough that it wouldn’t bog Hermes down, even if they broke into a canter.
“No, I’ve done this before and nothing’s ever fallen out.”
Taking the reins in hand, he looked over at Jeremy, sensing the boy’s discomfort. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Of course.” Jeremy glared over at him. “I might not be a proficient rider, but I do know how to keep myself in the saddle. My father managed to teach me that much.”
“All right. I trust you.” He nudged Hermes into a quicker pace, toward the wilderness.
The air was crisp as they rode, winter’s chill still clinging desperately as the first vestiges of spring set in. The days would get longer and warmer, and Andrew couldn’t wait. He hated winter, with its darkness and snow. As they rode deeper into the woods, he slowed, knowing that Jeremy wouldn’t be able to keep up.
“Why are most places cleared, but the fallen trees left in place?”
They had already passed two others.
“Uncle Richard, Nathaniel, and I were fond of obstacles, so we asked our groundskeeper to leave them in place. It gave us something to jump over.” Andrew was used to taking the course much faster, though he hadn’t ridden it in years.
“You purposefully make riding more difficult? Why?”
“I like the challenge,” Andrew said with a shrug. “I learned to ride when I was twelve, and by the time I was sixteen, courses that ran straight through held no appeal for me. I needed something more. At least, I did. I haven’t ridden cross country for some time.”
“Because of your brother?”
Andrew swallowed hard. “Yes.”
They lapsed into silence; the only sounds were those of hooves against the forest floor. Even two years after his death, it was difficult to talk about Nathaniel. Andrew had never been able to forgive himself for lying wounded in Spain while his family buried Nathaniel.
“I was never one for sport.” Jeremy’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I much preferred staying indoors and sketching. Even as a child, I knew I wanted to be an artist.”
Andrew smiled. “I remember. Every time I came home, you would have another drawing for me.”
They had been good, and Andrew had been impressed at how much talent the young boy had. He had taken a few of Jeremy’s sketches with him to the Continent, a reminder of home and those he cared about. The sketches, like so many of his friends, had never made it home. They’d been lost to the unrelenting destruction of war.
“I wanted to impress you,” Jeremy said.
“You did. Believe me, you did.”
Nudging Hermes to the left, Andrew led them into a clearing in the woods. In the centre was a small cottage with a thatched roof. It felt ancient, as though it had grown organically with the trees.
“What is this place?” Jeremy asked. He pulled Daisy to a halt.
Andrew dismounted and walked over to give Jeremy a hand. “I’m not completely familiar with the history of the building, but if I had to guess, I would say one of the former Viscount Cardwells used it for his trysts.” Fitting, seeing as that was what the current Viscount Cardwell was doing.
“Is this where you’ve been all day, then? Getting this ready?”
Nodding, Andrew grabbed the basket of food from the saddle box. He didn’t miss the way Jeremy shivered.
“Our groundskeeper makes sure all the buildings are maintained. It was only a matter of starting a fire and clearing out the cobwebs.”
There had been slightly more to it than that, but Andrew was hardly going to let Jeremy know. The task had taken most of the day. In addition to hauling firewood and building the fire, Andrew had swept the floors and washed away the thick layer of dust that had settled on the furniture. He could have had a servant see to it, but there was no need. He’d tended his own things in Spain, and he would be damned if he was going to fall out of practice simply because propriety demanded he didn’t so much as tie his own cravat. Besides, the work kept his mind off Phoebe’s words in the parlour. The most difficult part of his preparations had been keeping out of sight. He knew he could come up with something if anyone questioned him, but he didn’t want to trouble himself with it.
As they entered the cottage, Andrew kept his eyes trained on Jeremy, drinking in the look of wonder on his face. After a moment, Jeremy turned and walked back over to him. Wrapping his arms around Andrew, he stood on his toes and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“Thank you. I mean it. This is…incredibly nice of you.”
“Nice?” Andrew raised an eyebrow and set the basket down on the table. “I was thinking more romantic, but nice will do.”
Jeremy huffed. “Fine. It’s romantic.”
“Do you not think two men can be romantic?” Andrew noted the way Jeremy couldn’t quite meet his eye.
“It would not be the first word to describe us, no.”
Cupping Jeremy’s cheek, he pressed a kiss to his brow. “Then I shall endeavour to change your mind.” He pulled away and turned to the basket on the table. “First things first—food.”
Andrew opened the basket and pulled out a cloth-wrapped plate. Removing the cloth, he revealed thick sandwiches of corned beef and ham on brown bread, along with an assortment of fruits and cheeses. He reached into the basket and grabbed an apple, taking a bite out of the side.
“Have a sandwich. Mrs. Highsmith made more than enough.” He pushed the plate toward Jeremy.
Taking one of the corned beef, Jeremy bit into it, and Andrew laughed when the boy took another, larger bite.
“Slow down,” he said, grabbing a sandwich for himself. “You have all the time in the world. I’ll not take them away.”
Jeremy’s cheeks tinged as he took yet another bite. “Forgive me. I was hungrier than I thought.”
Andrew’s stomach twisted as he remembered the argument with Phoebe. “If you miss breakfast again, go find Mrs. Highsmith. She’ll see to it you don’t go hungry.”
“How many times has she done that for you?”
“More times than I care to admit. When Nathaniel and I were younger, she would make baskets like this when we would go out for a ride. We used this as our playhouse.”
Jeremy reached out to take his hand, stroking his thumb across the back of Andrew’s fingers. Every muscle in Andrew’s body tensed, and he couldn’t breathe. Everyone in Chippenham knew what had happened to Nathaniel—a fox hunt gone wrong. Andrew hadn’t even been in the country to say goodbye.
“Let’s not dwell on it, shall we?” His words were strained. It did no good to linger on the accident. He had lost so many people in his life that he wanted to appreciate the ones he had.
They ate in relative silence, Jeremy scarfing down his food as though it would disappear. Andrew was slower, savouring his meal. After years of mostly eating army rations, he had learned to appreciate even the simplest fare. When at last Jeremy polished off another sandwich, licking his fingers, Andrew held out his hand.
“Come here.”
Jeremy took the hand and Andrew stepped forward, one hand smoothing down Jeremy’s side, the other cupping his cheek. Jeremy nuzzled against his hand, tilting his head up in anticipation. Andrew would not disappoint him. As he kissed Jeremy, the boy parted his lips, allowing Andrew inside. He took advantage of it, plunging his tongue into the damp heat of Jeremy’s mouth. The kiss was possessive. By the end, he wanted Jeremy to know just who was in charge. Andrew traced the younger man’s bottom lip before stroking Jeremy’s tongue with his own. Jeremy’s tongue tentatively moved, but Andrew refused to let him take control.
Carefully, he backed Jeremy toward the bed in the corner, easing him down onto the down-filled mattress. Andrew half-reclined on top of him, staring intently down at Jeremy. The sight of Jeremy beneath him was quickly becoming one of his favourites. Of course, Andrew had always loved the way his partners looked underneath him, but Jeremy possessed a certain eagerness and innocence that none of the others had. Andrew adored it. Kissing him again, he worked the buttons to Jeremy’s riding jacket, one hand working each button through the loops. He pulled away to remove his own boots and socks, beckoning for Jeremy to do the same. Returning to Jeremy’s side, he tugged at the boy’s trousers.
“You’re only going to make this more difficult,” Jeremy said, batting his hands away yet again. “Take your own clothes off.”
“Ah, but so much of the fun is lost that way.”
Even so, Andrew removed his clothing piece by piece. Jeremy was right, it was easier and faster, but Andrew longed to strip the boy. He returned to the bed wearing only his shirt. It wasn’t necessarily fair for him to see Jeremy completely naked, while he hid behind the white lawn, but he refused to remove it. When Jeremy tried to slide his hands underneath the shirt, Andrew stopped him.
“Leave it.” Jeremy inched his hands higher, and Andrew tightened his grip. “I said leave it.”
His insides twisted at the thought of Jeremy removing the shirt sand seeing his scars. No one deserved that from a lover, especially their first time.
“I want to see you,” Jeremy said. “All of you.”
Andrew shook his head. “Perhaps one day, but not this one. Neither of us deserve what would happen if you saw.”
A beat passed, and Jeremy nodded. “All right.”
Relief flooded through him, and Andrew pulled away, walking back over to the basket. He returned holding a small glass jar.
“What is that?” Jeremy asked.
“A mixture of oils and aloe. Something to smooth the way.”
Jeremy tensed, and Andrew placed his hand on the boy’s naked thigh.
“Breathe,” he ordered. When Jeremy did, he let out a breath of his own. “Spread your legs for me.”
As Jeremy tilted his hips, he exposed the smooth, pale flesh of his buttocks. Andrew trailed his hands down Jeremy’s thighs to cup the boy’s ass cheeks, squeezing gently. Jeremy’s eyes slipped shut.
“Eyes open. You’ll want to take in all of this.”
He was rewarded with a deep flush, the scarlet spreading across Jeremy’s cheeks and down his body. The younger man’s lips parted, and Andrew took advantage of it by kissing him again. His tongue flicked over Jeremy’s, teasing and prodding, daring Jeremy to tease with him. Jeremy did, curling his tongue around Andrew’s. Carefully, Andrew settled in between Jeremy’s parted thighs, stroking the boy’s hip with his thumb. The sight was a glorious one—Jeremy’s pale skin practically glowing against the dark blue quilt beneath them.
Dipping his fingers in the jar of oils, Andrew coated them liberally, wanting to make them as slick as possible. He pressed one finger to the tight muscle of Jeremy’s entrance, lingering rather than pressing. The puckered muscle clenched and relaxed, and Andrew shivered in anticipation.
“Bear down,” he instructed. “Relax.”
***
The tension eased out of Jeremy’s body as he followed Andrew’s orders, and Andrew gently pressed the tip of his finger inside. Jeremy squirmed, letting out a soft breath.
“Are you all right?” Andrew asked.
Jeremy nodded, his breath hitching. “It feels strange.”
Not simply physically. Andrew breached more than just his body. He broke down walls that Jeremy didn’t even know were there, even as Jeremy tried to erect new ones in their place.
“It will feel that way at first. You become accustomed to it. Once I start moving, you will feel better.”
“Then start doing more.” The solution seemed obvious.
Andrew slapped him playfully on the thigh, smiling. “Impertinent. Let it come naturally.”
Jeremy had no idea what that meant, but he didn’t have a chance to think about it. The next moment, Andrew pushed his finger the rest of the way in. His face scrunched, and Jeremy focused on relaxing his muscles. It wasn’t the most pleasant sensation in the world, but it hardly hurt.
“You’ll adjust,” Andrew promised. “I’ve been in the same position as you. Quite literally.”
“I mean no offense, but could we perhaps not discuss your former lovers while you’ve got your finger inside me?”
Andrew nodded, a curious expression on his face. “I won’t mention it again.”
The assurance soothed something in Jeremy. He knew that Andrew had a past. No one could reach Andrew’s age and not have a past. When they were together, though, just the two of them, he wanted to at least have the illusion that they were exclusive. Andrew removed his finger and Jeremy started to protest, but then he pushed back in again, this time adding a second finger. Jeremy let out a small hiss at the initial sting, but the pain soon faded into the strange, intruding feeling as before.
“Relax,” Andrew soothed, his free hand smoothing over Jeremy’s thigh.
Andrew’s movements were slow and deliberate, and Jeremy trusted that he knew what he was doing. He relaxed as Andrew moved his fingers, only to let out a yelp a moment later, as an odd, intense pleasure rippled through him.
“What was that?” He asked, the words strained.
“That was the spot I was aiming for. Does it feel good?”
Jeremy let out a ragged breath. “It felt incredible.”
“Good. This place makes all of the pain worth it. Imagine how it will feel for me to keep touching it. Like this.”
As Andrew brushed his fingers rhythmically against the spot, stroking lightly, Jeremy’s toes curled. The sensation was too much and not enough at the same time. Tension pooled low in his belly and he reached down to stroke himself.
“Not too fast,” Andrew warned. “You still have a long afternoon ahead of you.”
Jeremy nodded, keeping his touches light. That only served to frustrate him, but Andrew was right. He didn’t want this to be over so soon. When Andrew brushed his finger directly across the spot inside Jeremy, he groaned.
“Oh god, Andrew.” He pushed back on Andrew’s fingers, his body acting instinctively.
“Easy, we’re only just starting.”
Andrew’s ministrations stopped, and Jeremy let out a low whine. “Please, Andrew.”
Andrew merely shook his head. “Not yet.”
Leaning down, Andrew kissed him again, and Jeremy gasped as he felt the man’s hips roll against his leg. The tension eased as Andrew kissed him, and Jeremy’s mind went blank. All he knew was pleasure. And then Andrew pulled his fingers free. Instinctively, he pushed back against the nothingness. The emptiness was unbearable. How could something so intrusive make him feel that empty when it was taken away? His muscles clenched of their own accord, seeking the stretch again.
“Andrew, I need you. Andrew.”
The older man silenced him with a kiss. “I know you do. You will get what you need, I assure you.”
Jeremy watched as Andrew dipped his fingers again in the jar of oil, but instead of pushing them inside him, Andrew wrapped his fingers around his cock, stroking. With his free hand, Andrew pushed Jeremy’s knees against his chest.
“Tilt your hips. There you go.”
The angle left Jeremy completely exposed, and he shivered as Andrew settled in between his legs.
“Deep breath in? And out again,” Andrew said.
On the exhale, Andrew rolled his hips and slowly pushed inside. Jeremy’s body tensed, the pleasure of Andrew’s fingers now forgotten. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but Andrew stopped moving, looking down at him. Concern was written all over the man’s face
“Are you all right?” Andrew’s words were clipped.
“It burns.”
“Relax your muscles. Bear down, like before.”
Relaxing was difficult, though, with Andrew stretching him. Slowly, Andrew moved again, rocking his hips, and Jeremy forgot to breathe. He had never felt so full in his entire life. Each thrust pushed Andrew deeper inside of him, until he was completely seated. Andrew’s hips came to a stop, and he leaned down to kiss Jeremy again. The distraction was a welcome one, and Jeremy forced himself to focus on Andrew’s lips against his. Slowly, the tension in his muscles eased and the sharp, stinging pain faded into a dull burn. This pain was much more manageable. Dragging his lips across Andrew’s, he wrapped a leg around the other’s hairy thighs.
“You can move,” he whispered.
Andrew did, rolling his hips. The rhythm he set was steady and deep. Each movement drew his cock nearly all the way out before he pushed back inside. “God, you’re so beautiful.”
The same could be said for Andrew. As difficult as it was to keep his eyes open, Jeremy wanted to take in as much of him as he could. Andrew’s dark brown locks hung in his face, his pupils so dilated that Jeremy could barely see a sliver of blue. Curious, Jeremy reached out and stroked his hands down Andrew’s chest and stomach. More than anything, he wished he could pull Andrew’s shirt off. He was rewarded with a low groan and a sharp thrust that left him breathless. Allowing his hands to roam upward, Jeremy carded his fingers through Andrew’s hair. He pulled him down for another kiss, groaning against Andrew’s lips.
Snapping his hips, Andrew quickened his pace and Jeremy gasped. Each thrust hit that amazing place inside Jeremy, and he wanted more of that. Hesitantly, he rolled his hips, trying to match Andrew’s pace. He trailed his hands down to grip Andrew’s ass, the muscles cording and bunching underneath his fingers with every move.
“I’m not going to last. Wrap your hand around yourself,” Andrew rasped.
He did as Andrew ordered, groaning as his fingers wrapped around the hot, sensitive skin. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, but he was too far gone to care. Precome pooled beneath his belly button, and Andrew ran a finger through the slick fluid, bringing it to his lips. No, certainly he wasn’t going to…but he did, and Jeremy couldn’t believe it.
“Oh sweet heavens,” he breathed.
Andrew laughed, the sound low and husky. “You liked that?”
Jeremy could only nod, and when Andrew rolled his hips again, he groaned, a litany of praises and pleading falling from his lips.
“Keep moving. Please, Andrew. Do not stop.”
Andrew didn’t. Jeremy winced as Andrew gripped his hips, pistoning his own. With each thrust, Andrew’s cock nudged against that sweet spot inside Jeremy. He writhed underneath the older man, close to his release. Andrew’s movements grew frenzied and frantic, his muscles tense underneath Jeremy’s hands. He stilled, his eyes squeezing shut, and Jeremy gasped, feeling him pulsing inside. The fullness he had felt before only increased as Andrew came inside of him. His lips parted and he stared up at Andrew, taking in the complete vulnerability on Andrew’s face as he continued to stroke his own member.
When Andrew knocked his hand to the side and took over, Jeremy gasped. He wrapped his arms around the other man, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against the crisp fabric of Andrew’s shirt. So close. And then Andrew twisted his hand and Jeremy was lost. His entire body shuddered as he spilled onto Andrew’s hand and his own stomach. Collapsing back against the pillows, he shuddered as the aftershocks coursed through him, his body spasming as he came down from his high. As Andrew pulled out of him, Jeremy squirmed.
“Feels strange.”
“Bad?” Andrew asked.
“Not quite. Merely strange. I feel empty, but I can still feel you inside me.”
Andrew cupped his jaw and kissed him softly, then eased down beside him. “You’ll feel me for a while.”
When Andrew wrapped his arms around Jeremy, he rested against his chest. He traced idle patterns against Andrew’s shirt, nuzzling against the thatch of dark hair that peeked out from the deep V. Thoughts of his father threatened to destroy the bliss. What would he think if he could see his son now? A useless hobby was one thing. Perversion, on the other hand… Jeremy closed his eyes, forcing his attention back to Andrew.
“Was it good for you?” he asked.
“It was perfect.”
Something in Andrew’s voice drew a frown from Jeremy. It sounded almost as though the man was crying. Instead of pressing the issue, though, he tucked his head under Andrew’s chin. “Good.”
Closing his eyes, he wrapped an arm around Andrew’s waist, shivering slightly. A blanket was pulled around his shoulders, and Jeremy relaxed.
“Sleep,” Andrew murmured. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go back.”
Jeremy nodded and snuggled closer against him, for the first time in his life feeling as though he belonged somewhere.