I
London, July 1808
1
Kit
It was after one o’clock in the morning when Henry finally arrived at the little house in Paddington Green.
Kit had dined and bathed and was curled up in a velvet-upholstered armchair by the fire. He’d been indulging in his favourite daydream—walking through some idyllic stretch of English countryside with Henry by his side, his faithful, beloved companion—but he must have dropped off, because he woke with a start when a familiar deep voice said, “Christopher? Are you sleeping?”
Kit blinked, briefly discombobulated, then scrambled out of his chair, his smile bursting out over his face as he took in the welcome sight of his lover standing in the doorway of the cosy parlour, elegant in his evening clothes. God, but Henry looked magnificent. His wide shoulders filled his black evening coat most satisfactorily.
“You came,” Kit said happily, rushing forward to greet him.
Henry closed the door behind him and stepped towards Kit, eyes glittering as he took in the loose, midnight-blue robe that only partially concealed Kit’s lithe body.
“I’m rather later than I hoped to be,” Henry said, sliding his hands inside the robe and up over Kit’s shoulders. The movement was a caress and a disrobing in one. The fabric slid off Kit's shoulders and down his arms, puddling round his feet like a sapphire pool, the silk gleaming in the candlelight like water.
Henry gazed at Kit’s naked body with unhidden pleasure. “I’m glad to find you still up. I was afraid you’d have gone to bed and I’d have to rouse you.”
Kit’s smile was so big, it made his face hurt. All the hours of impatient waiting were forgotten now that Henry was here. Just being with him again made Kit's heart lift.
Deep down, he knew that he was being foolish. He was just a kept boy. His desires were quite irrelevant to the question of when Henry chose to use him—the man was at liberty to show up when he wanted, and if Kit had any sense, he’d treat their time together as work. But it didn’t feel like work, not with Henry.
And Kit didn’t feel like a whore when they were together.
Kit pressed his naked body against Henry’s clothed one, winding his arms about Henry’s waist as he lifted his face for a kiss.
“I’ve missed you,” he told his lover truthfully, though he smiled teasingly as he said it. He always made sure to keep things light with Henry. Henry had so many responsibilities and obligations in his life—he came to Kit for relaxation and pleasure, and Kit prided himself on providing just what Henry needed.
“Have you?” Henry rumbled, his lips curving into a smile. His big hands moved possessively over Kit’s slim body, one sliding down to caress Kit’s left buttock. “Or has your arse been missing my cock?”
Crude words, but the teasing warmth in Henry’s voice and the glint of humour in his eye made it a lovers’ shared joke. Kit gave him a sly look and pushed closer. “Perhaps a little of both.”
Henry’s chuckle made Kit giddy with happiness. He loved being able to make this serious man—so terribly serious at times—laugh.
Henry leaned in close, his satin breeches brushing against Kit’s sensitive naked flesh, his warm breath gusting over Kit’s cheek. “Shall we reacquaint them then?” he whispered into Kit’s ear, making him gasp with laughter and hunch his shoulder. “My cock and your lovely arse?”
“God, yes,” Kit breathed and turned to press his lips to Henry’s. Henry groaned and pulled him closer, pressing his tongue deep into Kit’s mouth, kissing him so thoroughly, Kit’s head began to swim.
When Henry drew back he said, “Here, or upstairs?”
Kit’s answering laughter was soft. “Here first,” he said. “Bed later.” And God but he loved the way Henry’s eyes glittered at his words.
Henry was a lusty man, and Kit knew he loved that Kit’s appetite was as insatiable as his own.
Before he’d entered Henry’s protection Kit had sometimes had to fake the strength of his own urges with his clients. Oh, he’d always been able to get it up—he was a young, healthy male, and was fortunate that his profession of servicing other men aligned with his own preferences—but it was only with Henry that his personal desires had ever matched those of his protector. Maybe even surpassed them.
With Henry, though, everything was different.
“Let’s get your coat off,” Kit said.
He helped Henry off with his skin-tight coat, then unbuttoned his ivory silk waistcoat and unwound the elegant froth of linen about his neck. When Henry went to undress further, Kit stopped him.
“I like you with some clothes,” he said, and Henry grinned because he did too, when Kit was naked. He let Kit tug him toward the armchair Kit had been sitting in when Henry first arrived, let Kit unbutton his breeches and push him into the chair, landing with an oof of good-humoured laughter that turned to a groan as Kit sank gracefully to his knees.
Henry drew out his cock as he watched Kit fold his body down into the submissive pose. The strength of Henry’s desire was very evident from the stone-hard shaft and weeping, rosy head. Not to mention Henry’s hiss of almost pained pleasure as Kit leaned forward and took his thick cock deep into his throat. Kit loved the noises Henry made, and the sliding curve of his big hand as he palmed Kit’s golden head.
“Oh, Christopher,” he breathed. “You are so very good. So very beautiful.”
Kit’s moan in response was heartfelt. Because yes, this may be service, but it was still a pleasure. His pleasure and Henry’s both.
He stayed there, on his knees, for a good few minutes, enjoying Henry. Enjoying his lover. Henry, who had somehow become, in ten short months, Kit’s entire world. His keeper and master.
The master he could reduce to a begging heap with his mouth.
“Oh God, Christopher—stop,” Henry pleaded at last, “before I spend in your mouth. Let me inside you.”
Kit raised his head. Henry’s expression was abandoned, full lips open, cheeks flushed, dark hair in disarray. His big body was sprawled out in the chair like an offering. Kit loved that sight—loved to see this powerful, beautiful man dazed with lust.
Let me inside you.
He loved that Henry didn’t order him around, as though Kit was his slave. That he asked Kit for his favours, as though they were true lovers.
That when Henry said his name, it felt as though he was speaking of something—someone—he adored.
Scrambling to his feet, Kit clambered on top of Henry, straddling him so they were face to face. He’d oiled himself earlier in readiness for Henry’s arrival, and so it was that he only had to grasp the man’s shaft in his hand and lower his body slowly down, taking Henry’s beautiful cock into his body in a slow, undulating slide that had them both gasping.
“Kiss me,” Kit demanded once Henry was fully seated inside him, and Henry obliged, taking Kit’s mouth eagerly as his cock pressed deep and his strong hands settled on Kit’s hips, urging him to rise up and sink down on Henry’s thick shaft.
Kit was near sobbing with pleasure by now. Henry fit him so well. With each upwards stroke, the blunt end of his cock grazed that sensitive spot inside Kit that made him practically combust. He loved each brutal, tender stroke, and the scrape of Henry’s evening beard against his chin as they kissed. Henry’s strong fingers digging into his hips. The evidence of Henry’s passion would be written on Kit’s body tomorrow in pale blue smudges, and Kit gloried in it.