“Not tonight,” he whispered, bending over Hamish to plant a single chaste kiss on his lips. Darshan lifted his hips, withdrawing until he was almost free, before sliding himself back into Hamish with the same steady determination. A little rougher, but still far gentler than others had been.
A quavering moan left Hamish’s lips. He closed his eyes, his grip on the sheets tightening. His back arched involuntarily, lifting his hips off the bed. Such an act seemed to gift Darshan a better angle that the man was all too happy to take advantage of. The spellster sat back—a world away after their previous closeness—and started thrusting his hips in earnest.
Grunts and soft groans filled his ears. Not solely his own. Soft and measured like the way Darshan moved inside him. Hamish’s hips rocked in tandem with those thrusts. Or they at least tried to, his movements ungainly and inexperienced. Usually, he was in too much pain to do anything but lay there.
“You are allowed to touch me, you know.”
He opened his eyes, searching wildly for Darshan as if he wasn’t right there. With great difficulty, Hamish uncurled his fingers from the heavy linen bedding and reached for the man. “Closer,” he mumbled.
Darshan’s rhythm faltered, surprise darting across his face. He slunk back on top of Hamish, resting on outstretched arms. Their lips met; clumsy, wet and with a great deal more passion than Hamish had expected.
Hamish sighed into the man’s mouth. His soul floated. If this was sex—real sex as opposed to what he had experienced in the past—then he had missed so much.
“Still good?” Darshan asked between soft grunts.
Nodding, Hamish wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He needed the contact, needed that mouth back on his.
The spellster chuckled breathlessly. “Is that little moan all I get?” he mumbled into Hamish’s beard. “I cannot recall ever leaving someone at a loss for words during.”
Hamish bit his lip, a groan bubbling in his chest. Even if he could form more than a single word, he was confident that most of them would escape as animalistic grunts. Pressure was building deep inside him. A fire he had only felt when pleasuring himself. It spread through his veins, numbing all thought. Any moment, any thrust, could be the one to finally push him over the edge.
There was even a certain look in Darshan’s gaze, a far-off gleam that spoke of the man far down the path towards chasing his own pleasure. The easy rhythm his hips set increased in pace. Not rough or uncaring. Darshan certainly wasn’t ignoring Hamish’s needs in favour of his own, but there was determination.
Hamish reached back to grip the headboard, clinging to it in search of a way to ground himself. Usually, he would’ve one hand firmly wrapped around himself by the time this sensation was upon him. Would Darshan object if he did so now? Most men in the past preferred he didn’t. “Dar?” he panted. “Can I—?” He let go of the headboard with one hand, slinking between them.
“Do not be coy.” The answer came gruff and heavy with the efforts of the night. Darshan slowed, each thrust less controlled than the last. His head sagged, obscuring his face with a mess of dark brown curls. The frantic huff of his breath still rasped in Hamish’s ear, the heat of it hitting his chest.
Hamish grasped his length, pumping hard. His body tightened like a spring. His head tipped back as did his eyes. His mouth dropped open, his breath coming in heaving gasps.
The bottom fell out of his world, sending his senses freefalling into bliss.
The heat in his veins consumed him, shuddering through his limbs, lifting his hips as he emptied himself between their bodies.
There was the gentle brush of Darshan’s lips against his clavicle. Then up further. “I did not take you for a quiet finisher,” he murmured, the heat of the words warming Hamish’s already sweat-soaked skin. The man nuzzled at Hamish’s beard, seeking. “Your neck is in here somewhere.”
Hamish tilted his head, allowing the man unfettered access. He stared up at the ceiling as Darshan nibbled up his neck, still not certain what he had experienced. He’d had orgasms before, just not with someone. And never during. But that had been far better than anything he ever remembered doing, like he had somehow forged a connection between them in a way he had never known with any other man.
Was that what sex was meant to be like? Euphoric?
“Wow,” he finally managed.
Darshan chuckled, the sound low and smug. “You are most welcome.” There was a tightness to the words and his right arm still moved, his bicep flexing against Hamish’s chest.
Slowly, he became aware that the man had pulled out? When? Why?
There was the gentle blast of breath against Hamish’s neck—a whimper—and then Darshan went still.
“You could’ve finished in me,” Hamish mumbled. It wouldn’t have exactly been a first.
“Now he tells me.” Darshan surfaced from beneath Hamish’s beard, grinning. His usually fluffy hair had gone flat with sweat. “Well, there is always next time,” he murmured against Hamish’s lips.
Next time? Still slightly dazed, his mind latched onto that one thought. He hadn’t ever been with the same man twice. Although, he supposed this technically counted as just that if he also included the previous night’s botched attempt.
Pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Hamish’s nose, Darshan slid off the bed.
He tracked the man’s passage across the room as Darshan collected a small bowl. Ice formed on the outside as he neared, only to melt like a spring frost.
Darshan glanced up from his task to frown at Hamish. “Am I being too presumptuous? My apologies.” He set the bowl down on the bedside table, water slopping over the rim, before sitting back on the bed. “But if you would allow me the luxury of being so bold… You seemed to enjoy yourself.”
Hamish grinned, biting on his lip to keep from openly laughing. “Aye, I—” Warm wetness caressed
