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STILES COULD FEEL the man’s hard cock pressed into his arse. Evidently he had been wrong about O’Donnell’s interest in him. His own member began to stiffen as O’Donnell rubbed himself against Stiles.
“And that would be what, exactly?” Stiles asked, pushing his arse back against O’Donnell.
“Open the door and we’ll discuss it.” O’Donnell reached around Stiles and grasped him firmly. Stiles squeaked at the glorious pressure being applied to his cock.
Once inside the door, O’Donnell turned Stiles to face him. He pulled Stiles into his arms and kissed him. It wasn’t tender or sweet. It was heated and hungry and messy. Stiles returned the same passion he was given. Teeth gnashed into lips and tongues tangoed to a beat only two could hear. Stiles wrapped his arms around O’Donnell’s waist and pulled him closer. This time, O’Donnell let out a low groan as their cocks rubbed against each other through the material of their pants. Their lips parted, gasping for air.
“Stiles.”
“Patrick.”
Christian names exchanged, clothes began to come off. Stripped bare in a very short amount of time, Stiles shivered when Patrick’s tongue lapped across his left nipple. Seeing the reaction he got, Patrick sucked harder and bit the little nub. It stung just enough to make Stiles gasp. He returned the favor, pinching Patrick’s nipples with both his hands.
Teasing seemed to go on and on as the two stood together, reaching a fever pitch. When they finally grasped each other’s cocks and began stroking and pumping them, it was an effort to stay standing.
“I think we need to take this to the bed.” Stiles removed his hand from Patrick’s cock and placed it on his chest. He felt the soft thick fur under his fingertips for a moment, then pushed Patrick backwards. Patrick fell across the bed, barely big enough for two, and pulled Stiles with him.
Their coupling wasn’t love making. It was like animals mating. Stiles had seldom experienced this nakedly raw lust, but he found it brought out his own hidden need to take and be taken.
Stiles was quickly reaching the point of no return. Patrick had yet to take his cock fully into his mouth, but his lips had played havoc on his thighs and sac. Everywhere but where he needed it most.
“Stop teasing, Patrick. Take my cock in your mouth now.” Stiles groaned and thrust his member at the other man.
Patrick chuckled as he lapped at Stiles’ inner thigh. He lifted his head and smirked. “I believe we are both of the giving nature, which makes this a little more complicated.”
Stiles was inclined to agree and smirked at his lover. He motioned for Patrick to realign himself on the bed. “I suggest you allow me to pleasure you as you do me.” Stiles hesitated only momentarily, then added, “A mutual stimulation of sorts.”
“I’ve heard of that but never experienced it. How would we go about that mutual pleasuring?”
Stiles pushed Patrick on the bed, then flipped around so that his face was within mere inches of Patrick’s member. The head was swollen and sat upon a slender shaft. There were drops of seed pooled at the tip and Stiles lapped at them greedily. Patrick cursed and thrust his hips forward. Understanding the concept, he quickly placed his own lips over Stiles’ hard, throbbing member.
They quickly found a rhythm that worked for them both, and they pushed each other closer to the edge. Stiles could feel his imminent release as it prodded him to thrust his hips harder into Patrick’s mouth. His sac slapped against Patrick’s bearded chin, the tingling sending excitement coursing through him. He felt Patrick stiffen as he thrust into Stiles’ throat, nearly causing him to choke, before exploding with a thick stream of seed. Upon feeling the warm gush of fluid in his mouth, Stiles let loose his own load and hummed his approval as Patrick’s throat worked around his cock head.
Spent and exhausted, Stiles didn’t remember either of them moving in the bed. Sleep came quickly and soundly. His mind filled with dreams of something from his childhood. Fleeting images that left him with a sense of bewilderment and loss. The next thing Stiles clearly remembered was a loud banging on the door to his room. Opening his eyes, Patrick was nowhere to be seen and someone was yelling through the door that it was six o’clock, time to get up.
Stiles hurried through his morning activities, threw what little he had unpacked into his small valise, and then headed toward the station. A young lad was selling loaves of bread and coffee and he purchased one of each for his breakfast. His luggage was at the stagecoach office and would already be loaded on the top of the carriage, along with the other passengers’ cases.
The stagecoach pulled out at precisely seven o’clock with Stiles one of five passengers. Patrick O’Donnell was not among them. Stiles wondered how the man was getting to Mercer and if he would see him there. The stagecoach was crowded, but Stiles managed to sit near a window and leaned against it for any breeze that might happen. Feeling exhausted, he dozed off not long after the coach pulled out of Cheyenne.
CANDLES BURNED IN every room of the house. There must have been hundreds of them. The house was decorated with pine branches and late roses for the Christmas season, and here, a week later, their scent was even stronger. Burning wax from the candles, and the heavy aroma of pine, mingled with the roses to scent the air. A string quartet that his father had hired played music that filled the manor. Ladies in elegant gowns floated across the dance floor on the arms of men dressed in their finest frock coats. Everyone wore a mask. It was an amazing sight for a young man just coming into his own manhood. Stiles was fifteen; home from boarding school for the holidays to attend social engagements that his father and his new wife were giving. His father had made a point to see that he had a new suit and was properly attired.
Stiles knew very few of the people in attendance for this New Year’s Eve Masquerade. Of course, he could tell which man was his father and he knew which woman was his new stepmother. She had an obnoxious laugh that was unmistakable. But there were others in the group that Stiles didn’t know at all. As the evening wore on, more and more drink was offered and, not being used to spirits, Stiles became fuzzy-headed rather quickly.
A young man in a dark blue suit with light blue lapels, which looked slightly too large for the body it covered, bumped into Stiles and pushed him to the edge of the room. They stumbled together and nearly fell before the young man helped Stiles stay on his feet.
“There now. Don’t be fallin’ on your arse.” A soft velvet voice laughed.
Stiles felt his cheeks flush under his mask as he listened to the attractive voice. His cock liked the sound as well, for it quickly began to fill. Stepping away from the other man, Stiles dropped his hands in front of him to cover his bulge.
“Aye. I fill the same way.”
Sure enough, as Stiles dropped his gaze to the front of the man’s pants, he saw he was sporting a prominent bump as well.
His father called out for the music to stop, diverting Stiles' attention. Servants walked among the guests, passing out glasses of champagne. Everyone’s attention was on his father as he began to speak.
“It’s nearly the hour and I would like to propose a toast to the New Year.” His father raised his glass and touched it against his stepmother’s. Voices across the room shouted good tidings and more glasses clinked. At that moment, the bells in the tower of the town church began to ring. Another shout went up as partygoers removed their masks and kissed their partners.
Someone grabbed Stiles’ wrist and pulled him behind a curtain near where he stood. The young man, who had only moments before been standing beside Stiles, had removed his mask and drew Stiles near to him. Upon seeing his face, Stiles was taken aback. It was Thomas—a lad who worked in his father’s stables.
“I knew ye’ would be here and it would be my only chance to do this.” Thomas pulled Stiles to him and kissed him.
Stunned, Stiles let Thomas continue the kiss. He was just beginning to relax and enjoy himself when he heard his father calling out his name. Thomas stepped back quickly and left through a door hidden behind the curtain. Stiles stayed where he was for a time, then left the stillness of the curtain and returned to find his father.
Later that night, lying in his bed, Stiles marveled at what had transpired. He thought about how anyone could hide behind a mask and be anything they wanted to be.
THE COACH HIT a rut in the road and the jar it gave nearly shook Stiles out of his seat. He righted himself and thought about his dream. Thomas hadn’t crossed his mind in a very long time. It wasn’t until the next trip home that he had acted on the kiss they had shared. That summer had been an incredible adventure. Stiles discovered that he was much more attracted to young men than any of the young ladies his stepmother paraded before him. Remembering Thomas and that summer of discovery brought a momentary smile to Stiles’ face.
Then he remembered the rest of the dream. Now that he was grown, Stiles knew people didn’t have to wear a physical mask to hide who they were. Lots of people wore masks to hide their true selves from those around them. It was a lesson Stiles needed to remember.