Kid Gloves (7 page)

“That’s probably for the best.”

I
T
WAS
late when they finally sat down to eat, splitting one of the bottles of ale between two mugs. The stew was rich and sweet; Finn had cooked the squirrel over the fire on a spit before adding it to the pot of vegetables.

“How was the hand?” Dalton asked.

Finn swallowed and nodded. “Fine. Good. I didn’t realize how out of practice I was.”

“Any pain?”

“No, sir.” He smiled.

“That’s good.”

And Dalton was truly pleased that the piece he considered his finest creation was working so well for its new owner. There was another part of him, though, that was torn. Every day Finn became stronger, more confident, to the point where he was now hunting with ease. Surely the day would soon arrive when he was ready to return to his unit, leaving Dalton, possibly forever.

He forced those thoughts from his mind as they finished the meal and scrubbed the plates clean. When they were alone, an easy domesticity engulfed them both, and Finn found himself enough at ease to ask questions that he’d been previously too shy to voice.

“Where did you grow up?” he asked as they finished stacking the plates.

“Wales,” Dalton said absently. “Then parts of Wessex.”

“Are your family travelers too?”

“No. No, we just moved between different members of my mother’s family, depending on who would have us at the time. I left home when I was fifteen. There was a man….”

“Oh.”

Dalton laughed. “Yes. He was a nice man, though. He took me back to Cambridge.”

“Was he your lover, this man?”

“For a time, yes,” Dalton said gently. “Many years ago.”

Sensing Finn’s discomfort, Dalton pulled him forward until they were standing much closer together, close enough to wrap their arms around each other. Dalton let his cheek rest against Finn’s strong chest.

“I haven’t seen any of my family since I left home. That’s not so unusual.”

“Don’t you miss them?”

“Not anymore,” Dalton said. “We children were always underfoot. There were too many mouths to feed and never enough food on the table. My father died when my mother was still carrying my youngest brother—that’s why we lived with her family. I got the impression no one was particularly sad to see me go.”

“But now, with your success….”

“They wouldn’t recognize me today,” Dalton said. “After growing up with so many people around, I value my space, and the quiet. It settles my mind.”

Finn nodded.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

With time, Finn had become responsive to another man undressing him, not because he was unable to do it himself, but for the feelings of security and eroticism that could be drawn out of the act. He’d grown comfortable enough to smile as Dalton worked his waistcoat undone, then his shirt, pushing both from his shoulders.

Sure, calloused fingertips skimmed over his collarbones, over his shoulders, and down his biceps. Finn leaned in for a kiss, then, taking the sweet hot clash of lips and tongues and the opportunity to wrap his hands around Dalton’s slim waist.

He even laughed when Dalton tickled his neck with whisper light kisses, leaning in to the touch he’d been so afraid of such a short time ago. They abandoned their trousers, and Dalton turned, pulling his long hair over his shoulder so Finn could help with the laces on his corset.

But Finn’s hands hesitated on the strings, and then he turned Dalton round again.

“Would you keep it on tonight?” he asked, blushing. “And… and the stockings?”

“Yes,” Dalton said.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Dalton said, reaching out to touch Finn’s cheek.

Naked, Finn lay down on Dalton’s bed and reached out to drag Dalton on top of himself.

The feel of warm leather against his stomach contrasting with the cool silk covering Dalton’s legs was a heady combination against his heated skin.

Finn rolled them together and over on the bed until he was lying on top of his partner. Their kisses had taken them both breathless, and Finn pulled back, pressing their foreheads together as they both struggled to get their breathing under control.

The ritual of preparing them both was now familiar, and Finn was confident in the slick, twisting exploration of his fingers, knowing where to touch and where to press to draw the sweet whimpers of pleasure from Dalton’s throat.

It was a task he had come to enjoy. This was all about his partner’s pleasure, not his own, and not unlike the things he had learned to do with his mouth, Finn took care with Dalton’s body. He wanted it to feel good.

“Are you ready?” he murmured, and Dalton tipped his head back and hummed.

“Yes,” he said.

Using more oil, Finn prepared himself, then caught Dalton’s stocking-clad knees with his arms, pushing them back to open his legs wider. Keeping the sharp parts of his metal hand carefully away from the delicate fabric, Finn leaned forward and gently entered his partner.

For Dalton, he was again becoming used to this warming feeling of being filled, after so many years of celibacy. Finn wasn’t the most experienced lover he’d ever had, but he was possibly the most considerate, the most sweet, the most gentle. He sought out kisses, sought out Dalton’s pleasure as much as his own.

Not realizing he was biting his own lip, Dalton felt it being tugged from between his teeth by Finn’s lips and smiled into the gentle brush of their mouths. He welcomed Finn’s tongue as it swept against his own, relishing in the flavor even as heat pooled and throbbed in his belly.

“Do you like this?” Finn whispered as he rocked his hips forward.

“Yes,” Dalton whispered back. “It’s incredible, Finn.”

Dalton traced his foot up and down Finn’s back, silently thrilled at the way it felt, the sound the silk made as it brushed against bare skin. To his surprise, Finn’s lips stretched into a smile while being pressed to the side of his neck, and his slow, easy rhythm faltered.

“You can… more,” Dalton said, his breath catching. “Deeper. Or harder.”

“Or both?” Finn asked. He pulled away and looked down into Dalton’s eyes, still smiling.

“Or both,” Dalton repeated.

He was far from confident, but Finn felt a little whisper of validation at Dalton’s words and obligingly pushed harder into the next thrust. The reaction this elicited was enough for Finn to grow bolder, and rougher, instinctively trying to find more ways to draw those sounds from his lover’s mouth.

“Like that?” Finn asked. Dalton managed a nod, his fingers squeezing around Finn’s arms. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“No,” Dalton said. He whimpered a little and let his head drop back, content to rock his hips back against Finn and just feel.

It was only when he felt the familiar tightening in his balls, the warning from his body that he was about to shoot, that Dalton remembered that he was still wrapped in his corset.

“Wait,” he said, his hand closing around Finn’s.

“Wait?”

“Yes. We need to switch.”

“I don’t…,” Finn said, his sentence cut off as Dalton nudged him over and onto his back.

“Look,” Dalton said by way of an explanation. Finn’s eyes readjusted in the dark, immediately noticing how Dalton’s cock stood up almost vertical, it was so hard.

After pouring a little more oil on Finn’s cock, Dalton threw his leg over Finn’s waist and leaned back, holding the base of Finn’s cock so he could slowly impale himself on it. As he looked down, Finn’s mouth opened in shock and pleasure, and Dalton arched his back, filling himself completely.

Their bodies started to move together in this new way, and Dalton couldn’t help but add his own hand to the mix, pulling and tugging at his own cock as he rode Finn’s, knowing it would take so little now to make him spill.

When Finn arched underneath him, fingers and toes curling as he climaxed, Dalton dropped his head back and let the waves of pleasure pulse through his body. While still gasping for breath Dalton looked down at his lover where Finn was sprawled, chest flushed and painted with stripes of Dalton’s semen.

He leaned in and captured Finn’s swollen lips in a breathless, laughing kiss before rolling onto his side, then his back. After a few moments Finn’s mechanical hand slid into his own, the fingers carefully tangling and stroking back and forth in the space between his thumb and forefinger.

The sensation was glorious, but he needed to move. Dalton wiped Finn’s chest clean, then rose from the bed where his lover was now sprawled on his clean belly, clearly exhausted. He smiled to himself as he padded around his small home, removing the stockings and corset and storing both safely, then quickly washing his body.

He returned to be the bed naked and settled himself down next to Finn, hoping not to wake him.

The sight of Finn’s strong back, still glistening with a sheen of sweat, was both beautiful and quietly arousing. His back rose and fell with his steady, deep breaths, and Dalton longed to touch him.

“Come on,” he murmured, pulling his blankets from the bottom of the bed and nudging Finn onto his side. Finn mumbled something unintelligible and sleepily complied with Dalton’s careful rearranging.

Their movements concluded with Dalton holding Finn in his arms, Finn’s back pressed tightly to Dalton’s chest. The blankets bunched around their middles and legs and feet wound together in a position that was completely inimitable.

“Have you ever been in love before?” Finn whispered, the darkness making him bold.

“Maybe,” Dalton whispered back, afraid to make his words louder for fear of their permanence. “I think so.”

Finn swallowed hard and forced himself to look over his shoulder and into Dalton’s eyes—eyes that he’d thought to be inexpressive once, but had since learned the tiny nuances of emotion that flickered through them.

“I think maybe I have too.”

Dalton pressed the softest kiss into the curve of Finn’s shoulder. When Finn settled back to sleep, he pulled one of Dalton’s thick locks of hair with him, playing with the end of it to comfort himself. The slight tugging in his scalp was oddly comforting to him too, and with his lover in his arms, he settled down to sleep.

T
HE
next morning, Finn woke still wrapped in Dalton’s arms. He smiled to himself, yawning and stretching before he could help himself, then settled back with locks of Dalton’s hair to play with again. It didn’t take long for Dalton to wake too, probably disturbed by Finn’s fidgeting.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

“Good morning,” Finn repeated, turning in Dalton’s arms and carefully rearranging his hair so it didn’t fall in his face. “How are you?”

“Fine.” He shifted on the bed. “A little sore,” he said with a knowing smile.

Finn blushed and leaned in to kiss Dalton’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it. Do you want something to drink?”

“Yes, please.”

Dalton rose, stretching again, and shook his hair back. After propping himself up in bed, Finn admired how the other man’s lithe muscles moved, the blond hair on his chest and legs, and the patches under his arms. He was exceptionally masculine, and Finn wondered how he’d never noticed his attraction to this before.

Cautiously, in his mind, Finn ran through a list of men who fitted the same physical description as Dalton. Not Tennessee, he wasn’t attracted to the older man. Or any of the men in his unit. Not any of his friends when he was younger. It seemed, on inspection, that Dalton was the first man for whom he’d had these feelings.

Then again, he hadn’t had these feelings for a woman before either.

“Finn,” Dalton called. “I have tea, if you would like some.”

Finn nodded. “I would, please.”

“I’ll set some on. Would you like a wash too? I can fill up the tank. Or the bath.”

“The tank?” Finn asked, standing and walking naked to the fireplace. Sure enough, next to the chimney was a metal tank that connected to a series of pipes.

“I call it a rain-shower,” Dalton said, the pride in his voice evident. “It’s my own invention.”

“How… what…. How does it work?” Finn said, walking slowly around the bizarre contraption.

“You add the cold water from the street into the tank and let the fire warm it, and then when you’re ready to wash you pull this lever—” he gestured to the relevant mechanism, “and the water comes out through the pipes and the sprinkler.”

“And caught in the bath, which you then empty like you would normally,” Finn finished. “How extraordinary.”

“Would you like to try it?”

Finn nodded, his face alight with youthful enthusiasm. Dalton quirked a smile and stoked the fire. “You need to let it warm up a little first. It’s quite refreshing when cold.”

“Okay. While we wait….” Finn smiled and wrapped his arms around Dalton’s neck, pressing their naked chests together and demanding kisses.

“I thought you so shy when we first met,” Dalton said once they pulled apart. “You barely said a word to me, outside of what was necessary.”

“I know. I was scared of you.”

“Of me? Really?”

“Yes. You can be very intimidating you know.”

“I didn’t know. Not anymore though, surely?”

Finn wrapped his hand around Dalton’s thick locks of hair, tying them back with one of the longest like he’d seen Dalton do so many times before.

“No,” he said. “Not anymore.” He rubbed his own jaw. “I need to shave.”

Dalton laughed. “You do.”

“I’ll go to a barber later.”

After they’d breakfasted on tea and toasted bread, Dalton set up his rain-shower contraption and watched with unrestrained glee as Finn washed himself down, scrubbing his body with a rough cloth and tipping his face up into the flow of water. His face fell as the water ran out, and then he looked over at Dalton guiltily.

“I didn’t leave any for you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wash later.”

He dressed and looked around the small room, taking stock of how his possessions seemed to have spread around and found new homes in the short time he had been living there. His clothes were neatly folded and kept in the drawers next to Dalton’s. His bow and quiver had a place in the cupboard with their outer layers and boots. The small personal items that he always carried with him were kept on the small stand next to the bed.