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"Are you nearly finished"
Even in this crowded attic room Kes can still creep up me utterly noiselessly. His fingers brushing my arm as he speaks make me startle, scratching the pen across the paper. How he managed to silence the door I do not claim to understand.
"Nearly done, Kes-sweet, nearly done."
He's been taking advantage of having a proper bathroom available, his skin still damp, his shirt unbuttoned where he's walked back to our room. He leans against the back of the chair, keeping contact with me while he towels at his hair with an old shirt.
"You always take so long - worse than Hesket pouring over his accounts, you are."
I put down my pen, and twist round to hook an arm around his waist, resting my cheek on his belly. I let my movements soften my words, for all my voice is reproving. Sometimes I have to remember that he is a child still, really, and not raised for this life.
"Kes, you know why I have to do all this."
He sighs and shifts his weight onto his back foot, subtly away from my embrace.
"I know, I know. The contacts that you all foster are what gets us work, and we all need to know which way the currents are running, for that underpins the world we depend on, and so on and so forth."
He sounds like a sulky teenager reciting his lessons word for word. I tug him sharply, part reprove, partly just to get him back where I can touch him.
"Kes ..."
He arches his back where my fingers are stroking along the waistband of his trousers. He didn't bother to tie the drawstring for the journey back either, so they sit low and loose, the curve of his buttocks temptingly close. One of his hands is stroking at the nape of my neck, finding the sweet spot hidden in the hair line under the leather wrap that keeps my hair out of my eyes.
"'m sorry. I know. It's just, well, it's not that often we have a whole room just to ourselves."
He makes a good point. More often than not Jarret shares a room - that or all three of us are sharing a dormitory with every other man at that way station - and while Amet would probably offer to join us, or at least enjoy spectating, Jarret is rather less - relaxed. This rooming house, however, has been skilfully economical with it's partitioning, to the degree that we have no choice but to enjoy our privacy.
Kes leans over to replace his fingers with his mouth, breathing hot over the sensitive skin. His hand slides forward, sliding under my dressing gown, cool against my chest.
"I thought perhaps we should take advantage of the privacy."
His voice gets lower, his tone husky. and the brush of his lips sets the small hairs on my neck on end. The one hand is slowly circling, but never quite touching, my nipple, the other kneading my thigh where he is leaning forward. I can well believe that those with money would choose to spend it on this, and I would thank Gods if I could believe in them that he offers me the trust in his eyes as well as the touch of his skin. My correspondence can wait.
"That is" I can hear the growl in my own voice already. "A very good point."
"I thought so" he whispers, punctuating with his teeth scraping over the tense muscles where my shoulder meets my neck. He knows me so well : he sought out every pleasure point within weeks, as though his fingers were drawn to them with magnets, and my every reaction charted and logged weather we were working or playing.
I manage to push the chair back, spinning it on one leg away from my make-shift desk. Smooth as anything we have practised he settles himself in my lap before the front legs of the chair have settled on the floorboards. The gas lights cast odd shadows on his face, hiding his eyes as for a moment he stares at me. My ego would like to interpret that as wonder, awe, maybe even something more. Habit reminds me that it is more likely that he is waiting permission.
Apparently the roll of my hips as he settles his own heated cock alongside mine was permission enough. That or the growl that is rumbling somewhere deep and low inside me. He leans closer, fastening his mouth on my throat, trapping his hand and our matching erections between us, and the stillness becomes a building rhythm that is blissfully familiar.
Soon - too soon, and he is biting down, bearing down hard on my lap, flooding my bare stomach with his heat. I cannot control either the growl or the tightening of my balls, and I am bucking against him, not caring that my hip is caching on the night stand or that the chair is thudding down, no doubt disturbing anyone and everyone nearby.
I come to rest, gasping, with him curled bonelesly into my shoulder, his hands pushing my robe off the other side to reach more skin. He is almost purring, suckling gently on the spot that he has bruised with his biting. A part of me knows I should remind him of the rules - no marking where I client will see the after effects, although in our business that does not give us much freedom. It is at least a four day journey to our next client though, and I cannot bring myself to project the necessary tone of ungrateful criticism
Instead I take a deep breath of his still-damp hair - sharp soap and the rosemary that he will have added to the rinse - Skein's prescription to keep the shine in his hair despite the frequent washings. Tightening my arms around him, I heave myself to my feet, stagger the three half-paces to the narrow cot, and drop backwards on to it. The frame creaks ominously, but Kes only winds himself closer around me, pushing my gown off my legs, mumbling into my shoulder.
"Kes-sweet?"
"Mmhm?"
"You going to fall asleep on me?"
The nuzzling turns into a gentle but definite head butt.
"No."
His voice is still warm and fuzzy, but he shifts to rest his weight on one arm and look me in the eye. His smile is lightening fast and then settles into a more speculative look.
"I think I should get rid of these clothes, Tal, and take some more advantage."
He looks almost smug as he raises his hips, waiting in the sure knowledge that my hands will make short work of those troublesome trousers, and for all that my Kes has an ego that needs no massaging I cannot help but smile back.
"You, my Kes, have very good ideas."
Even in this crowded attic room Kes can still creep up me utterly noiselessly. His fingers brushing my arm as he speaks make me startle, scratching the pen across the paper. How he managed to silence the door I do not claim to understand.
"Nearly done, Kes-sweet, nearly done."
He's been taking advantage of having a proper bathroom available, his skin still damp, his shirt unbuttoned where he's walked back to our room. He leans against the back of the chair, keeping contact with me while he towels at his hair with an old shirt.
"You always take so long - worse than Hesket pouring over his accounts, you are."
I put down my pen, and twist round to hook an arm around his waist, resting my cheek on his belly. I let my movements soften my words, for all my voice is reproving. Sometimes I have to remember that he is a child still, really, and not raised for this life.
"Kes, you know why I have to do all this."
He sighs and shifts his weight onto his back foot, subtly away from my embrace.
"I know, I know. The contacts that you all foster are what gets us work, and we all need to know which way the currents are running, for that underpins the world we depend on, and so on and so forth."
He sounds like a sulky teenager reciting his lessons word for word. I tug him sharply, part reprove, partly just to get him back where I can touch him.
"Kes ..."
He arches his back where my fingers are stroking along the waistband of his trousers. He didn't bother to tie the drawstring for the journey back either, so they sit low and loose, the curve of his buttocks temptingly close. One of his hands is stroking at the nape of my neck, finding the sweet spot hidden in the hair line under the leather wrap that keeps my hair out of my eyes.
"'m sorry. I know. It's just, well, it's not that often we have a whole room just to ourselves."
He makes a good point. More often than not Jarret shares a room - that or all three of us are sharing a dormitory with every other man at that way station - and while Amet would probably offer to join us, or at least enjoy spectating, Jarret is rather less - relaxed. This rooming house, however, has been skilfully economical with it's partitioning, to the degree that we have no choice but to enjoy our privacy.
Kes leans over to replace his fingers with his mouth, breathing hot over the sensitive skin. His hand slides forward, sliding under my dressing gown, cool against my chest.
"I thought perhaps we should take advantage of the privacy."
His voice gets lower, his tone husky. and the brush of his lips sets the small hairs on my neck on end. The one hand is slowly circling, but never quite touching, my nipple, the other kneading my thigh where he is leaning forward. I can well believe that those with money would choose to spend it on this, and I would thank Gods if I could believe in them that he offers me the trust in his eyes as well as the touch of his skin. My correspondence can wait.
"That is" I can hear the growl in my own voice already. "A very good point."
"I thought so" he whispers, punctuating with his teeth scraping over the tense muscles where my shoulder meets my neck. He knows me so well : he sought out every pleasure point within weeks, as though his fingers were drawn to them with magnets, and my every reaction charted and logged weather we were working or playing.
I manage to push the chair back, spinning it on one leg away from my make-shift desk. Smooth as anything we have practised he settles himself in my lap before the front legs of the chair have settled on the floorboards. The gas lights cast odd shadows on his face, hiding his eyes as for a moment he stares at me. My ego would like to interpret that as wonder, awe, maybe even something more. Habit reminds me that it is more likely that he is waiting permission.
Apparently the roll of my hips as he settles his own heated cock alongside mine was permission enough. That or the growl that is rumbling somewhere deep and low inside me. He leans closer, fastening his mouth on my throat, trapping his hand and our matching erections between us, and the stillness becomes a building rhythm that is blissfully familiar.
Soon - too soon, and he is biting down, bearing down hard on my lap, flooding my bare stomach with his heat. I cannot control either the growl or the tightening of my balls, and I am bucking against him, not caring that my hip is caching on the night stand or that the chair is thudding down, no doubt disturbing anyone and everyone nearby.
I come to rest, gasping, with him curled bonelesly into my shoulder, his hands pushing my robe off the other side to reach more skin. He is almost purring, suckling gently on the spot that he has bruised with his biting. A part of me knows I should remind him of the rules - no marking where I client will see the after effects, although in our business that does not give us much freedom. It is at least a four day journey to our next client though, and I cannot bring myself to project the necessary tone of ungrateful criticism
Instead I take a deep breath of his still-damp hair - sharp soap and the rosemary that he will have added to the rinse - Skein's prescription to keep the shine in his hair despite the frequent washings. Tightening my arms around him, I heave myself to my feet, stagger the three half-paces to the narrow cot, and drop backwards on to it. The frame creaks ominously, but Kes only winds himself closer around me, pushing my gown off my legs, mumbling into my shoulder.
"Kes-sweet?"
"Mmhm?"
"You going to fall asleep on me?"
The nuzzling turns into a gentle but definite head butt.
"No."
His voice is still warm and fuzzy, but he shifts to rest his weight on one arm and look me in the eye. His smile is lightening fast and then settles into a more speculative look.
"I think I should get rid of these clothes, Tal, and take some more advantage."
He looks almost smug as he raises his hips, waiting in the sure knowledge that my hands will make short work of those troublesome trousers, and for all that my Kes has an ego that needs no massaging I cannot help but smile back.
"You, my Kes, have very good ideas."
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