Carnations in the Alley | manxman | (Historical Romance)

VII - A Night of Passion, of Harmony

Kent's heart flipped the moment he felt Edgar's hands slink around his slim waist. Each of the other man's fingers seemed to press into him, leaving signs of their trails in charged streams left behind by each of his fingertips. Their tongues mixed together, swirling, and collecting all of the other's luscious savor, and it was when Edgar's hands disappeared into the underneath of Kent's oversized shirt, meeting his skin, and sending sparks into him, that Kent's veins rushed with a current so rousing that he couldn't stop the tremble racing up his spine.

Kent winced and stole his mouth away, but still Edgar sought to taste him, kissing along his softly rounded jaw and to his neck. "Hng," Kent sucked in a sharp breath of air, eyes fluttering, and he cried out. "Ah-hah, Ed–Edgar," he expelled, losing touch, and losing time.

Kent couldn't understand why something as simple as a man's lips upon his flesh felt like fire brought to life, but it only swelled and enticed his cravings more than they'd ever been; until a weakness showed in his knees, and his legs struggled to support his weight.

When Edgar's kiss met Kent's ear, the young lord just about dissolved, hand tracking up the back of Edgar's neck and into his dark hair. Feeling weightless, feeling faint, Kent was lifted from the floor, and his legs coiled around Edgar's waist as he was carried from the sitting room.

He wanted to drown in this surrounding ecstasy, breathe in every particle and musk of this tempting man until all of Edgar rubbed off on his skin and insides.

As the sound of Edgar's heavy boots trekked through the house and up the stairs, the fading dusk seemed to light the way to his bedroom. He knocked the door open with his hip, leaving it wide open. His own heart was pounding in his chest, and the mere sound of Kent's breathlessness and strength of this hold upon him brought forth an urge Edgar wasn't all too familiar with.

It wasn't to say he'd never experienced intimate longings in his thirty-five years of life, but his duties to the Ramsey name and workload were what typically halted his means to fulfill it.

Stealing his lips from the fresh, floweriness of Kent's scent, Edgar looked the young lord over, catching his breath as well as the eager hopefulness peering into him pulled his thirst forward.

Edgar neared the edge of his bed and placed Kent down. He couldn't help but let his gaze wander the exquisiteness of Kent's figure, especially as the hem of the shirt came above his waist to show off his groin and thighs. Supple and plush and clear of blemishes, Kent's thighs were what collected the whole of Edgar's attention.

So famished and despairing for this nymph lain before him, Edgar reached out and dragged his fingers across the softness of Kent's thighs. He leaned down and seemed to bite as he kissed them, as if he might devour the young lord rather than ravish him where he lay.

Fingers passed through the top of his hair as his tongue licked and teeth nipped, leaving behind patches of red impressions across each surface.

"Edgar," he heard.

When the man shifted his gaze up to the watery jewels looking at him, he could see Kent's breath was quivering, chest rising and falling quickly as his whole body blushed. Pecking yet another kiss against Kent's inner thigh, Edgar smoothed his hands up the back of them before gripping behind the young lord's knees and pushing them up and open.

As he lay transfixed and trapped in this man's hold, the sight of Edgar so near to his erect and dripping cock brought forth a burst of craze so mind-bending that Kent doubted he'd ever be the same after this.

When Edgar leaned into him, the moment he felt the man's nose touch the tender gap of flesh between his sack and hole, and then the wet caress of Edgar's tongue when it passed into him, Kent's strength waned, and he collapsed.