WARNING: Sexual content, including anal

Lot and Josef get frank and Josef gets what he desires.

Hastings – 1844

Josef was sitting in a bathtub by the fire in his bedroom, staring at the closed curtains with his arms resting on the sides of the bath. Theoretically, we all had separate rooms, we rarely used more than two.

I locked the door. ‘That water must be very cold and dirty by now.’ I sat down on the box at the end of the bed and crossed my legs at my ankles.

He caressed his gaze down my bare legs. ‘I was thinking.’

‘I thought Bran was supposed to be the introspective one.’

‘Bran has never deliberately hurt an innocent person.’

‘Would you do it now?’ I rested my hands on the edge of the box.


I smiled. ‘There you go then.’

‘Regret is not enough.’ He twisted his wedding band. ‘If you didn’t love me, would you have forgiven me?’

‘I knew who you were and who you’d been before I loved you, and I fell in love.’

He smiled and rubbed his face. ‘It bothers me more of late, but then I have more to lose.’

I caught his towel off the footboard, sat on the edge of the bath, and gripped his chin lightly. ‘I’ve looked true monsters in the eye and you’re not one.’ I pushed his wet hair back from his eyes, revealing where it had receded at the temples before he died. ‘But if you suggest I should save myself at the cost of you again I’ll kill you myself.’

He chuckled and kissed the heel of my hand. ‘Putting up with two grim old men must be a trial.’

‘There’s advantages.’

He stood up in the bath, his wet skin gleamed in the candle light and water trickled through his thick chest hair. I touched his stomach and my shivering exhale drew goosebumps on his skin.

I rose, tracing my fingers up his solid body. ‘Definite advantages.’

He stepped out of the bath, dripping water on the polished wood floor. He waited, fingers teasing my damp hair.

Grinning, I spread my fingers over his heart where his hair was thickest. ‘Oh, you know what I like.’ I started gently drying his chest in slow circles.

He nuzzled the side of my face, his breathing deepening. ‘You don’t have to come running to kiss my wounds better.’

‘You would for me. Consideration and care goes both ways.’ I stepped behind him to dry his back and his heartbeat quickened. ‘Am I meant to forget the time you offered me “just sex” to work off my temper?’

‘Most wouldn’t say no.’

‘I remember what you told me too.’ I followed the line of a scar that ran from his shoulder to his waist. ‘About being expected to give pleasure without getting pleasure in return.’

‘That’s not exactly what I said.’

‘You said, “When you develop a reputation the onus is on you to prove it, not the other person to… help.”’

He smiled. ‘And, of course, you can remember verbatim.’

I circled back round. ‘Either everyone is having fun or no-one is.’ I caressed a spot just below his naval with my thumb and his breath hitched. ‘I want your pleasure. I need it.’ My fingers drifted a little lower. ‘Finding all those secret spots that excite you and make you beg for release.’ I caressed him and he moaned. ‘The touch and taste and sound of you.’ I kissed his chest.

He kissed my forehead. ‘I want to play.’

I caressed his slick rear and slapped it lightly and he fetched his lockbox from the top of the wardrobe. It made a solid thud against the linen box when he put it down and unlocked it with a small key on his watch chain. I got the bottle of oil out of the bedside drawers and my step from under the bed and he offered me the strap-on.

My cock, as he called it, was a varnished wood dildo with leather straps. It wasn’t covered it in leather to soften it but he’d made it to his own specification and definitely enjoyed it that way.

He knelt down, holding the edge of the linen box. I grinned, tossed some pillows and the strap-on onto the floor, and got down between his legs. I kissed his back exploring his scars with tongue and hands and breathed in the soap and cut wood scent of him.

He sighed and the tension eased in his muscles. I coated my hands with olive oil, spreading it over his arse, thighs, and teasing him with my fingers. The slide of his oiled skin under my hands alone could’ve made me come. He moaned, hands tightening on the box.

I kissed his backside, gave it a squeeze, and retreated to fastened the straps. He bit his lip in anticipation at the rattle of buckles and snap of leather.

I got on my little step behind him and coated the wood with oil. ‘Ready?’

He exhaled. ‘Yes.’

He inhaled sharply as I eased into him. I paused at the moment of resistance then he relaxed and pressed deeper.

He let his breath out in a long, satisfied moan, grinning so broad he might crack his face. ‘Oh, you’re getting good at this.’

I couldn’t decide between gripping his hips and shoulders, trying not to over balance in my hunger to touch and taste him. I grabbed his hips to stop myself falling over. He whimpered disappointment when I withdrew.

I shoved him onto his back. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

He laughed breathlessly and tucked a pillow under his hips, fumbling it in haste. I grabbed his hands and pinned them beside his head. Breathing heavily licked the apple of this throat.

He strained to kiss me but I stayed just out of reach. ‘More. Please.’

I took him again. Kissing, caressing, digging my fingers into his hair. His hands were bruising rough and delicious as the flex of his muscles and the sounds of his pleasure. His arms tightened around me, he pressed his face to my neck. I retreated and unstrapped.

He growled his frustration and thumped the floor.

I laughed, hitched up my shirt, and crawled over him. ‘My turn. Hard.’

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he whispered against my ear.

I drew him up to me and kissed him deeply. ‘You won’t.’

He flipped me onto my back and tucked a pillow under my head. ‘Are you sure?’

I nipped his lip. ‘I promise I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.’

He nodded and pushed into me. I whispered encouragement and dug my fingers into his arse to guide him. His nails cut ruts in the wood floor and he grunted with effort. His hair rasped under my hands, his skin was slick against mine, his shoulders tight as he resisted his orgasm. I loved it. I loved him.

I came hard cursing his name and Josef followed with the force of a storm against the cliffs. He slumped against me then collapsed onto the floor, panting.

I stayed a moment, breathless as the last shivers ebbed away. ‘God, you filthy, fantastic man.’ I drew him back to me.

He chuckled, put his arms around me and pressed against my back. ‘Mmmm, I’m spent.’ He kissed my shoulder. ‘No-one’s fucked me like you in a long time.’ Something caught his eye and he groaned. ‘We should put your cock away.’

I laughed. ‘Give me a few minutes.’ I tilted my head towards him, caressed his face, and kissed him softly. ‘You’re a good man, Josef, don’t forget it.’

He smiled and touched his forehead to mine. ‘I love you.’

I snuggled into him, ‘I love you too.’

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Published by Jesse

I'm a writer and academic specialising in fantasy fiction and creative writing theory. I'm allergic to pretentiously talking about fiction and aim to be unashamedly ‘commercial’. Surely all fiction is commercial anyway, or what’s the point in publishing it?

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