“Cheers,” Jory said, and raised his own bottle before drinking.
“It’s weird to think about, though, innit?” Mal nudged a piece of driftwood with his foot. “This place, this actual patch of sand, hundreds of years ago, swarming with smugglers and excise men. ‘Brandy for the parson, ’baccy for the clerk’ . . .”
“‘Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,’” Jory carried on the quote, which Mal was well chuffed about cos he hadn’t been sure he’d remembered it right.
“Yeah, and ‘Watch the wall, my darling, while the gentlemen go by.’” Mal grinned. “Sounds a bit risky now you think about it.”
“I don’t think Kipling had that particular interpretation in mind.” Jory chuckled.
“He was Victorian, wasn’t he? They were all a bit repressed. Not good for a bloke, that ain’t. You gotta let it all hang out.”
“Could let anything you like hang out here,” Jory said. “No one’s around to see.”
Was that a come-on? Mal took another swig of cider to cover his sudden nerves. Then he shivered at a gust of wind, and Jory’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and Mal thought, Yeah, that was a come-on all right.
“Is this all right?” Jory asked, and Mal really wished he hadn’t, because he’d been quite happy ignoring the question and enjoying the moment.
But, shit, it was just a fucking cuddle. Not even with both arms. Tash gave him cuddles that were more full-on than this, and there’d been nothing dodgy going on there cos Mal liked his balls where they were, ta very much. “’S fine,” he said, relaxing into it a bit.
Jory let out a breath and squeezed him tighter.
“Fuck, I want you.” It sort of slipped out without Mal meaning it to, and when he saw the look on Jory’s face, there was no way he was going to take it back. And, well, he liked Jory. A fuck of a lot.
One little shag wasn’t going to hurt, was it? Him and Dev had screwed around back when both of them were single, and it hadn’t ruined anything. They were still best mates. Tash was right. Life was too short.
Yeah. One little shag would be fine. Mal closed the last bit of remaining distance between them, pulling Jory fully into his arms. He felt great there—warm and solid. And he smelled fucking awesome, a hint of fresh sweat from scrambling down the tunnel all mingled in with the briny sea smell that got into everything round here. Mal nuzzled into his neck, wanting more of it, and Jory tightened his grip round Mal’s waist before lying back in the sand, taking Mal with him.
Oh yeah. Mal was half-hard already, and when he felt the thick, hot ridge digging into his hip, he was all the way there quicker than you could say, Fuck me, those tights don’t hide nothing. He ground down on it, and Jory groaned, which turned Mal on even more, like a feedback loop which was going to end up busting the eardrums of the world. He kissed Jory roughly, biting his lip and shoving in some tongue. Jory tasted wicked, like cider and pickle and pirates. Mal wanted to eat him whole.
Strong hands were kneading Mal’s arse like it was made of dough. Fuck, he wanted those fingers inside him. He scrabbled at his zip, desperate to get his jeans undone.
Jory breathed a word or two that could have been, Oh God, and then the world flipped, and Mal was on his back, Jory looming over him like the hottest fantasy he’d ever had. And seriously, all that education was definitely good for something, cos Jory had Mal’s jeans open and shoved down his hips in about 0.3 seconds flat. And, and he’d somehow got his own dick out, fuck knew how, magic maybe, and they were pressed together with Jory’s big hand wrapped around them both, and Jesus, Mal was gonna die.
It was all going to be over way too soon, so Mal summoned up the dregs of his willpower and pushed Jory a few inches away. “Wanna suck you.”
Jory took a deep, deep breath, then rolled off Mal and onto his back on the sand.
Mal raised himself up onto his elbow and drank in the sight. Christ, he was amazing. But not nearly naked enough.
Jory narrowed his eyes. “Need directions?”
“Nope. Just waiting for you to get that shirt off.” Mal stripped his own T-shirt off, in case Jory needed a visual cue, and yeah, that seemed to work cos seconds later he was gazing in lust at the glory that was Jory’s chest. It was, like, all muscle, except for a healthy amount of hair that Mal had the weirdest idea he wanted to floss his teeth with.
Maybe he wouldn’t mention that bit out loud.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed instead, and fuck him if Jory’s nipples didn’t tighten as he said it. Mal wanted to kiss them and grope them and rub his dick on them all at the same time. He settled for lying down on Jory, chests together and dicks— Fuck, yeah. “Wanna come all over you,” he heard himself say, and judging from how Jory’s hands clamped on his arse like a vice, there wouldn’t be too many objections coming.
Heh. Coming.
Christ. Mal was drunk, but not on cider. He was drunk on Jory. Totally gone, off his head, nuts in the bonce, and away with the fairies. And they weren’t touching enough, so Mal pushed his jeans all the
