A Proper Lover (Ganymede Quartet Book 2) (35 page)

“That’s a very personal question, Cora,” Henry said slowly. “I’m very fond of Martin.” He didn’t feel either yes or no was the right answer. He couldn’t live without Martin, he knew that much. If it turned out he did love Martin, he’d say so when he felt the time was right, and he’d say it directly to Martin and not because he was answering someone else’s impertinent questions.

Nurse intervened. “That’s not the sort of question a polite girl asks, Miss,” she said in a scolding tone.

“But why?” Cora looked back and forth between their faces, genuinely puzzled.

Nurse reached for Cora’s hand. “Come along, Miss. We’re almost to the menagerie.”

“I want to walk with Martin, though.”

“Let Martin walk a minute with your brother, Miss.”

Nurse set off toward the menagerie, Cora in tow, and Henry followed her somewhat haltingly.

Martin fell in beside him. “I’m sorry, Sir. I swear, I didn’t know what she was going to ask. She was talking to me about animals in the menagerie, so I thought she would ask you which animal is your favorite.”

“It’s not your fault,” Henry told him. “I was just embarrassed to be put on the spot like that.”

“Thank you for what you said, Sir.”

“What?”

“That you’re ‘very fond’ of me, Sir.” He ducked close and murmured, “I am also very fond of you.”

The way Martin was looking at him made Henry flush with heated longing. It didn’t seem right to be in the grip of such an intense desire while he was taking his little sister to see the bears, and the terrible inappropriateness of the situation just made his blush deepen.

“Your face is so red, Sir,” Martin said, his tone hushed and amused. “Is everything all right?”

It was Henry’s turn to lean in. “When you look at me like that, I just want to turn around and take you back home,” he admitted. “I want to take you by the hand and
run
.”

Martin laughed and bumped him with his shoulder. “When we go home afterward, Sir, we’ll show each other how fond we really are.” He continued to look at Henry with frank desire, lips parted and eyes dark, and Henry thought that Nurse would know everything if she saw their faces in this moment, that anyone would know.

Inside the menagerie, Henry’s mind was not on the animals, nor did he pay much attention to the things Cora wanted to tell him. He was preoccupied with thoughts of Martin, the private Martin only he knew, and he met Nurse’s attempts at conversation with tepid replies, his mind entirely elsewhere, imagining Martin moving beneath his fingertips and against his mouth.

For his part, Martin seemed perfectly content to visit each and every one of the animals with Cora. He listened attentively to everything she said, seeming so interested, and Cora was delighted by his generosity. He was unquestionably more admirable than Henry, a much better brother; Henry was just counting the minutes until he could take Martin home.

At last Cora tired of the menagerie. She chattered happily to Martin during the walk home, holding tight to his hand. Randolph opened the door for them, and Paul was there to help them off with their coats. Billy trotted ahead to push the elevator call button for Cora and Nurse.

“Henry, please come upstairs with me,” Cora begged. “Come play with me,
please
, Henry.”

Absolutely not. All Henry wanted to do was be alone with Martin, doing the things he’d been thinking of all morning, and he did not want to set aside any of those plans in order to play dolls.

“Not today, Cora. Martin and I have things to do.”

“What things?” Cora asked, grasping at straws. “Maybe I can do them, too.”

Henry shook his head adamantly. “No, you definitely can’t.” He stepped forward and kissed Nurse on the cheek, then bent to kiss Cora. “Here, give me your face.”

Cora obediently turned her cheek up for Henry to kiss. “Martin, you kiss me, too.”

Martin bent to kiss Cora and she threw her arms around his neck and hung off of him. Nurse intervened, untangling Cora’s fingers from Martin’s hair, and leading her toward the elevator as she protested the unfairness of her banishment.

Henry turned for the stairs feeling only a little guilty. He’d been a good enough brother for today. “Come with me.” They mounted the stair side by side. “We have a little time before lunch, don’t we?”

“A little, Sir,” Martin agreed. He leaned close and in a loud whisper asked, “What do you want to do with the time?”

Katie was in the second-floor hall, coming out of the family parlor, and she smiled and bobbed a curtsey at Henry as they passed by. “I want to make you come,” Henry whispered back. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Martin gave a little moan and swayed on his feet, catching at Henry’s arm for balance. Henry darted a glance back over his shoulder to see where Katie might be; she wasn’t in the hall and they weren’t observed.

“Come on.” Henry tugged at Martin’s arm. “Hurry.”

The door to Henry’s room was open, light spilling through into the hall, and Delia was inside, crouching before the hearth lighting a fire with hands that started shaking as soon as she saw Henry.

“My apologies, Sir. We didn’t anticipate you coming home so soon, Sir, or we would have had the fire laid before.” She was red-faced, a flush worthy of Henry himself, and unwilling to meet Henry’s eyes.

Henry was equally embarrassed, trying to stand in a natural-seeming way that would hide his half-hard cock—which was, thankfully, deflating somewhat since being confronted with the nervous maid. He jammed his hands in his pockets to make room.

“It’s fine, Delia,” he told her. “Just finish up, please.”

Martin went to her side. “Here,” he said, taking the matches from her hand. “I know how to light a fire, after all. Let me do it. You go on.”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

“Not at all.” Martin got down on one knee and lit a match. “Go on. You have other work, don’t you? Let me do this for Mr. Blackwell.”

“All right. Thank you, Martin.” She dared a glance at Henry’s face. “Is there anything else, Sir?”

“No, thank you. Martin can take it from here.”

“Good day, then, Sir.” She gave a little curtsey, almost a nervous spasm, and darted from the room, closing the door soundlessly behind her.

Henry went immediately to lock the door, then turned to look at Martin kneeling at the hearth.

Martin glanced up at him and smiled. “Let me just get this lit…”

“Leave it,” Henry suggested, shrugging out of his jacket.

Martin shook his head. “We’ll be cold soon enough without it, Henry.” There was a promising pop and crackle from the fireplace and Martin smiled. “I think that will take hold. We’ll have a fire in no time.”

Henry knelt down beside him and took hold of his chin, just light pressure from his fingers turning Martin’s head, and kissed him searchingly, languorously, and shivered as Martin moaned into his mouth. Martin’s tongue was slick and pliant, the taste of his mouth salty and vaguely sweet and so human. They kissed for what seemed a long time, with only their mouths touching and Henry’s fingertips resting along Martin’s jaw. Henry was trembling with the force of his arousal but it felt good to want Martin; it was a good ache.

Martin pulled back, just a fraction of an inch, and in the space between their lips said, “Tell me again, Henry, how are you going to make me come?”

Henry leaned in and licked his lip. “With my mouth.”

Martin gave a little growl and licked him in return. His kisses were just a little more urgent, the pressure of his lips a little more insistent, and Henry let Martin set the pace, everything intensifying until they were leaning into one another, chests and bellies and thighs pressed together, Martin’s hands just resting on Henry’s shoulders and Henry’s hand still guiding Martin’s jaw.

“I’ve wanted you all morning,” Henry whispered.

“When you said you were ‘very fond’ of me, Henry…I wanted you so badly then.”

“That couldn’t have surprised you, though. You knew that about me.” Henry raised his hand to push stray strands of hair back from Martin’s forehead.

“I-I might have guessed, but you said it in front of other people! That meant so much to me!”

“Even if it was only my baby sister and my nurse?”

Martin laughed and kissed him. “Well, who else
could
you say it in front of, after all? They might be the only two in the world.”

Henry actually didn’t like being reminded of this, that he had no friend he might share his story with, but tried to put it out of mind. He distracted himself by putting his hands on Martin’s waist, sliding them around to his back and drawing him closer still. Martin put his arms around Henry’s neck and kissed him with a wet, open mouth, his hips nudging against Henry’s.

“Can you stand?” Henry asked. “I want you to stand up and take off your clothes.”

“I can do that.” Martin grinned and got lightly to his feet.

Henry sat back on his heels and watched Martin undress. As he took his clothes off, he put them neatly over the nearest of the armchairs before the fire. He also took off his glasses and pulled the tie from his hair and set them on the table between the chairs.

“Here I am, Henry.” Martin had spots of color high in his cheeks and a shy smile. Martin’s cock stood nearly vertical before his belly, rosy and throbbing, and a drop of clear fluid made a trail down the underside of its length from the slit to his balls. Henry knelt up, took hold of Martin’s hips, and licked this fluid away, then licked away the fresh surge that was pushed forth in response to the movements of his lips and tongue. Martin gave a broken cry and ran his fingers through Henry’s hair, not quite pulling.

“It won’t take me long, Henry,” Martin said in a breathy voice. “I hope that’s okay.”

“I want to make you come,” Henry reminded him, giving his cock another lick. He let go of Martin’s hips and went to work on his own trouser buttons.

Seeing what he was doing, Martin asked, “Do you want my help?”

“No, I want you to stand there, just like that.” He shed his waistcoat and shrugged off his braces. He got his trousers unbuttoned, then his drawers, wrestling his cock out into the open air. His cock was dark and fever-hot and throbbed with a desperate ache that was actually not at all unpleasant.

Martin shivered and said, “Oh! Are you hard like that because of me?

“Who else could it be?” Henry asked with a low chuckle. “I’m not sure I would even
get
hard for anyone else.”

He knelt up again and used his right hand to angle Martin’s prick into his mouth, wrapping the fingers of his left around his own prick and squeezing. He took the head into his mouth, ran his tongue along the ridge and through the slit, and began to suck, taking it in deep and pulling off in a steady, unhurried rhythm while Martin moaned and frantically rearranged Henry’s hair. He thought to suggest that Martin
make
him suck his cock, but decided not to because he was, frankly, a little scared to be on the other side of that game.

Martin’s cock felt good in his mouth, stretching his jaws open and giving his tongue something to curl against. Henry loved the flavor of Martin, the smell of him, and now he was moaning, too, so aroused by all the information flooding in from his senses. Each time he let Martin’s cock slide out of his mouth, his busy tongue painted intricate patterns along its length and around the head, and he could tell Martin loved it by the way he trembled and begged, saying
Please, Henry, please
over and over.

Henry knew Martin was close. He looked up, into Martin’s beautiful, desperate face, and loved the helpless desire he saw there. Martin whimpered as their eyes met, and then Henry heard the hard slap of Martin’s hand connecting with the mantelpiece, a panicked grab to keep himself on his feet through his orgasm.

“Oh, god, Henry,
Henry
, I’m—” Martin shuddered and stilled and came, his knees buckling as he spilled into Henry’s mouth. Henry held tight to his hips to help keep him upright, but then Martin put his hands on Henry’s shoulders and knelt down in front of him. He put his hands to either side of Henry’s face and kissed him thoroughly, making his greedy noises as he tasted himself in Henry’s mouth.

“What shall I do for you, now?”

“You suck me, too, all right?”

Martin smiled at him, more than willing. “I’d love to do it, however you’d like.”

Henry felt he was far too lazy to stand unsupported in front of the fireplace as Martin had done. As he unbuttoned and shed his waistcoat, he said, “I’ll sit in the chair.” He stood and shrugged off his braces as he shuffled the few feet to the armchair.

Martin followed him on hands and knees and knelt up before him to help him pull his trousers and drawers from his hips to crumple around his shins. “If you could sit near the edge…”

Henry sat down on the prickly mohair upholstery and frowned a little at the sensation. Maybe he should have picked the bed. He let his knees fall apart and Martin leaned in to kiss him.

Martin took gentle hold of Henry’s prick and squeezed. “You won’t last long, either, will you Henry?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but bent over Henry’s prick and licked the wet, swollen head.

Martin’s mouth felt molten and syrupy, his tongue everywhere at once. Henry groaned and resisted the urge to put his hands on the back of Martin’s head and force him down, but Martin must have sensed what he wanted and lowered his head over Henry’s lap, taking him in to the hilt. With his throat tight around Henry’s prick, he gagged and shuddered. Henry moaned and petted Martin’s head, deliciously ashamed of how much he liked Martin choking on his cock.

He couldn’t last; the contact was too sweet. Martin looked up at him and smiled around his cock and it was too much. He came hard, shouting, a flash of white behind closed lids. The orgasm seemed like it wouldn’t end, his cock jerking with wrenching contractions and filling Martin’s mouth with spunk. Martin swallowed gamely but some of Henry’s mess leaked out of his mouth and ran down his chin, and the sight of the milky fluid glossing Martin’s lip did something to Henry, filling him with intense pride and a feeling of ownership that went beyond the fact that he was Martin’s master.