“Did you just…?”
“Aye.” His cheeks burned against his palms. For the first time, in a good long while, he had finally found someone as willing to be with him as he was with them… and he’d blown it. Wetness soaked his fingers. Tears? Was he actually crying now? Aye. A few, but well too many. He squeezed his eyes tight and sniffed in an effort to contain them. Shit. Turning into a sodden, blubbering mess over all this was the last thing he needed.
Soft and lean fingers curled beneath his, lifting his hands. “Hey, now.” The words were light and carried no hint of what he feared.
Hamish peered through his lashes, opening his eyes wider once he was certain of the expression he was faced with.
Darshan knelt next to him, his brows scrunched and raised in the middle. “It happens to everyone now and then.” That hazel gaze continued to evaluate Hamish. Did it pick out signs of tears? “We can always give it a little while and try again, right?”
Hamish scrubbed at his face. Had he heard right? The man was willing to wait and make another attempt?
If only. He wanted nothing more than to spend more time with Darshan, but if his judgement towards the angle of the light through his window was correct, they would have nowhere near the amount of time they would need to get the man out unseen before the guards arrived. And once the guards had taken up their positions in the hall directly outside his door, Darshan would be left with the choice of being caught in an hour or in the morning.
Still, he couldn’t have the man leave without something.
He silently rolled them over, marking how Darshan’s demeanour changed as the man was pushed deeper into the mattress by Hamish’s weight. Of the way he bit his lip and flushed right down to his neck. Even his gaze suddenly seemed more interested in settling on anything but Hamish.
Propping himself on his elbows had Hamish witness the man’s cocky grin and daring stare return, along with his feather-light touches down Hamish’s sides. Did Darshan like being pinned down? Hamish gently lowered back onto the man to a similar effect. He does. If he just had the time to play with that bit of information.
Sighing, Hamish slid off the spellster and the bed to kneel on the cold floor. Darshan sat up in his wake, one brow raised in silent query. Hamish answered by parting the man’s legs and caressing Darshan’s length in soft, slow movements of his thumb, eking out the man’s trembling moans.
Hamish wet his lips. This should be easy. Whilst he had orally pleasured men who could choke a horse—and weren’t exactly gentle with it to boot—Darshan was in the range that Hamish had labelled as pleasant. It was almost a shame that this was likely to be a one-off. “Just so you’re nae expecting miracles from me, it has been a while.”
Darshan laid a hand on Hamish’s shoulder, kneading with his thumb. “And exactly how long is a while?”
Years. His stomach fluttered. Hamish wordlessly lowered his head, sliding his tongue over the man’s length before wrapping his lips over the tip and sucking.
With a loud open-mouthed moan, Darshan arched his hips. His hand slid from Hamish’s shoulder and up, digging into Hamish’s hair. “Gods,” he slurred. “Would you be offended to know that is just as I imagined?”
Hamish glanced up to find his gaze locking onto Darshan’s. He released the man, ignoring Darshan’s faint, disappointed whine. The spellster would more than get what he wanted soon enough. “You’ve imagined me sucking you off?”
Darshan’s answering blush was all Hamish needed for confirmation.
He adjusted his position, abandoning sitting passively back on his heels in favour of a more upright kneeling stance. He kissed along Darshan’s inner thigh even as he hoisted both of the man’s legs over his shoulders, grinning at the spellster’s surprised grunt. Sliding his hands beneath Darshan’s buttocks and lifting him higher allowed Hamish to return to his previous actions with full control over them.
Darshan shuddered in his grasp. The spellster struggled only to contain his deep moans. The slap of his hand clapping over his mouth spoke of stinging skin. His fingers wove through Hamish’s hair once again, trembling and vaguely attempting to guide. Words escaped the Darshan’s lips, mumbled past his bejewelled hand and colliding with his moans. One such word, sibilant and long, repeated over and over.
Hamish slowed, listening as the soft tone of the man’s voice grew thick with need, before he registered the words were also entirely foreign. He lifted his head. “I cannae understand a word of Udynean, you ken.”
Darshan gave an exasperated huff and, as he altered his grip on Hamish’s hair, Hamish found his head directed back towards the spellster’s crotch.
That he understood.
He opened his mouth wide, letting Darshan’s gentle thrusts dictate how fast he went, and swallowed the man whole. Hamish couldn’t see the spellster’s face, tipped back as it was. But he heard him.
Darshan no longer tried to muffle his moans—which grew deeper with every downward bob of Hamish’s head—opting to plant his shoulders in the mattress and thrust his hips. The spellster’s legs tightened around Hamish’s neck, using him as leverage.
Words escaped between the pure noise, mostly gibberish to Hamish, but his name came warbling out. Hamish almost stopped the first time. He hadn’t ever heard it spoken in such a rich tone, almost on the verge of begging. Only a handful of those he’d been with had known who he was and, of those, just the one beforehand.
Darshan stiffened. His backside, still firmly in Hamish’s grasp, clenched. With the man halfway down his throat, Hamish only felt the faint pulse of Darshan’s length against his tongue as the spellster emptied himself.
Only once Darshan’s body began to sag did Hamish pull back. Breathing deeply of the cool air,
