“Shall I take that look as your approval of the view?” Darshan enquired as he crawled onto the bed to sit upright, straddling Hamish’s thighs. The cocky smile was back, but quivering slightly at the corners.
“Aye,” Hamish managed, his voice thick and his mind very much focused on how the man’s semi-hard length brushed across his own with every breath. He reached out, running a finger up the spellster’s arm. Each brush tingled. Was that more magic? Or just his imagination?
He had thought the olive-brown tone of the man’s face and hands might’ve been sun-darkened, but Darshan was a similar shade all over, not even a hint of the sun-lines he’d seen on paler men. And, true to his word, Darshan wasn’t all that hairy, but Hamish’s questing fingers found a pleasing amount as they ventured across the man’s chest, especially heading south.
His length certainly wasn’t typical— it seemed to be missing the usual bit of loose skin near the tip—but it reacted no differently at his touch, growing harder under his ministrations.
Darshan rolled his hips. His bejewelled hands landed firmly on Hamish’s chest, digging into his hair as the man thrust against Hamish’s palm. His breath rasped. A word slithered out his lips, heavy and rough. Then, as his breath was beginning to grow erratic, he gently removed Hamish’s hand and leant over him, curls of dark brown hair framing his face.
Their lips met and parted as the man moved on to roam Hamish’s neck and shoulders, leaving messy, wet kisses along his path.
A small sound escaped Hamish’s lips. Not quite deep enough to be a moan. He didn’t think he had the breath for it. Was Darshan trembling? Or was that himself?
Slowly, clearly reluctant to stop, Darshan pushed himself upright again. “Before we go any further…” He bit his lip. “I know you are of age, but I need—”
“Of age,” Hamish echoed, incredulous. Just how young did Darshan thing he was? “I’ve bloody seen thirty-seven summers. I’m of age twice over.”
Darshan’s brows shot up. He mouthed the numbers, then smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well now. I do not believe I have done anything with an older man for some time. Not since I was in my teenage years, anyway.”
“You dinnae look much younger than me.” Yes, the lack of a full beard had thrown him for a while when they’d first met, but there couldn’t be that much of a gap between them.
Darshan scoffed. “Oh, the difference is negligible. Four years, give or take a few months. But that is not what I was going to ask you. And I probably should have done so before we got this far. I just—” He rubbed at his neck, his whole face flushing. “I need your consent before we go any further.”
Hamish peered at the man, then laughed. Darshan had to be having him on. “I’m lying naked on me bed.” And just about ready to explode before they’d gotten very far. “How much more consent do you need?”
“A lot more.” He breathed deep before the words rushed out. “Granted, you already know what I want, and I believe we are in agreement there, but I need to be certain.”
Hamish shook his head, still unable to control his mirth. “You Udyneans have some strange rules.” Not a single man had actually asked for his consent. Tearing off each other’s trousers and wrestling him over whatever was handy generally counted as that.
Darshan closed his eyes. His brows lowered, encroaching on the metal edging of his glasses. “This is a little more personal,” he whispered. “Anything less than an empathetic yes from you will be taken as a no.”
“Bad past experience?” He had more than his fair share of those.
A faint hum of agreement thinned the man’s lips.
Hamish grasped the man’s hand. “Look, I’m nae drunk. Me wits are about me. I fully understand what’s happening and I want it. Is that enough for you?”
Those hazel eyes opened. Smiling, Darshan lifted Hamish’s hand and gently pressed his lips to the back of Hamish’s fingers. “More than enough,” he whispered. He returned to his previous position, stretched out atop Hamish.
Darshan’s hips rocked, slow at first, then with a determined rhythm.
Hamish followed suit, although it was a bit difficult with the added weight. He hadn’t ever had the hot press of another atop him. Not like this. The needy contact of skin on skin, rubbing against each other as they shared breath. Their broken moans and half-swallowed murmurs ate up the quiet.
The spellster’s kisses wandered, sharp and quick down Hamish’s neck, then open and sloppy along the shoulder. A sudden bony pressure spoke of teeth sinking into the flesh where shoulder met neck. Not enough to be painful, but strong enough to wrench a guttural sound from Hamish’s throat and set a fresh wave of desire through his gut.
Darshan reached down between them. His fingers wrapped around Hamish’s length. That hazel gaze lifted, eyeing Hamish. Gauging his reaction, he was certain of it. Darshan’s hand moved with practised speed.
Try as he might, Hamish could do nothing else but thrust into the man’s hand, utterly compliant to Darshan’s firm and steady touch.
Before too long, the only sounds escaping him were small, rather telltale, pants. Nae now. Nae like this. With great effort, he clasped Darshan’s wrist, stilling the man’s hand a little too late. Already, his body emptied itself, spilling into the afternoon air.
Bugger! He laid there, burying his face in his hands even as he continued to twitch in the spellster’s grip.
Darshan’s weight shifted.
Cold air filled the gap between them, sending a shudder through Hamish’s stomach. Darshan hadn’t left, but Hamish didn’t dare
