The Gentleman and the Lamplighter (4 page)

“I meant that as a whatyoumaycallit, an expression of sympathy for you, not scorn about him.”

“Oh.” Giles fingered the handkerchief. Foolish, foolish—he was no object of pity. If he turned around and went home, he could climb back into his bed and perhaps even sleep again. But no, he’d already walked this far. “Thank you.”

“That sounded more like a curse than anything. I didn’t mean to insult you, Mr. Fullerton.”

“No, of course not.” Giles stared straight ahead to the next lamp and thought of something to change the subject—something of actual interest to him. “How does one work the mechanism, Banks?”

“You want to have a go? Tis simple nowadays. In fact, there’s talk that soon it won’t take a man to do these lights.”

“What do you mean?”

“There will be a switch to turn and light the gas far away at the gasworks. The talk is we’ll all be put out of business.”

“No, I can’t see it. There will always be lamplighters.”

“So I hope. But here we are.” He halted at the heavy black iron base of the lamp. “Come close and I’ll show you.”

Giles moved so he was next to Banks, his arm brushing the lamplighter’s. “Grab hold of my pole,” Banks said solemnly.

Good Lord, he’d said the words without cracking a smile.

Giles choked back the snort of laughter and did as he was told. His heart hammered as he held the polished wooden pole and let Banks reach up with it, guiding his hands to grasp the switch with the hook. A deft twist and the light went out.

In the sudden dark, Banks said, “You can do the next one alone. The last one.”

“No, thank you. I would likely crash the pole through the lamp’s glass housing.” He released the pole and backed away from the warm solid body of the lamplighter. A safe, comfortable man who nevertheless made him feel as if he’d taken a long hard run up a hill. Dizzy.

That dizziness brought back the overwhelming first time Wool had touched him. Giles had awakened in the middle of the night to find Wool climbing into his bed. They had shared a room then. God in heaven, those restless, fevered touches could still affect him years later.

They hadn’t spoken that night, only grasped and squeezed and made small muffled cries. They didn’t say so much as a word any of the days that followed. But when Giles, full of need and lust, tried to enter Wool’s bed, Wool’s hot hand clutched his nightshirt and stopped him. Giles’s friend had declared in a sad whisper it had all been a mistake and wrong.

Giles pretended to agree. And two weeks later, when Wool had slid into his bed again, they’d begun the pattern again. Wool. Wool over his eyes …

“You all right, Mr. Fullerton? Something the matter?”

“I’m fine.”

“You are indeed.”

Now there was a smile in his voice. “We are done, you know.”

We?

“How about stepping up to my place for a cup of tea? Will they miss you?”

Now he might refuse without looking ungrateful or like a coward.
I can’t; my servants will raise an alarm if they find me missing
.

“No, no one will miss me.”

***

The two rooms were small but clean, and the clutter hardly worse than the display in Giles’s own home. He’d thought a lamplighter would live in grim poverty, but not this one, perhaps because of his late wife. Small rooms, yes, but cozy and pleasant.

He walked about the room as Banks put coal in the hob and adjusted the heavy kettle into place on an iron hook. Trying not to stare at the curving backside of his host, Giles examined a small print of a country scene on one wall. “Is that a place you know?”

Banks looked up from where he knelt by the fireplace. “Naw. I went out of London once, years and years ago. All I remember is climbing a huge tree that looked like that and getting stuck up in it until the local farmer got a ladder. Celia brought me that picture to remind me of it.”

“Do you suppose she wished to remind you that if you climb too high, you’ll suffer consequences?”

Banks laughed and rose to his feet, wiping his hands together. “I hadn’t thought that, but could be. Ha, seems you knew my Celia. Although could have been about the future, not the past. We talked about going out to the country for a spell. Never did.” He walked to a cupboard, opened it, and pulled out a jar. “Want a biscuit or two with tea? The lady who cleans for me left something with nuts and ginger.”

“Thank you, no.” He couldn’t imagine eating food at this moment. His whole body felt tense, ready to flee the rooms or wrestle Banks to the ground and … That mouth, smiling, under his. It would taste like heat and light. God, the thought was more than enough—and he’d already imagined putting his hands on the man’s rear.

He put his hands behind his back and peered into a small cabinet that held teacups and saucers. This was as much a kitchen as the rooms contained. Through an open door he saw a bed designed for two people, neatly made with a fringed cover. Of course … Banks’s wife.

The rooms had paraffin lamps—no gas in the building, and probably no indoor plumbing.

Banks silently put the cups and saucers together with a couple of spoons, and pulled down the small jar of sugar cubes. Giles wondered why he had agreed to come into this man’s rooms and invade his life.

The place smelled of some sort of cheap cleanser, tobacco smoke, and Banks, the odor almost as exotic to him as the low-ceilinged place.

“It’s a very pleasant residence you have here.”

Banks looked up at him with a small frown. “No need to say anything. I know what you’re used to.”

“Mr. Banks. Your house and the Buckingham Palace might be nothing like my own house, but I can appreciate them both.”

Banks laughed. “You’re right, of course. Sorry I’m prickly. I’m not used to company. Makes me a bit nervy.”

Giles would never have guessed the man was ill at ease—but then he’d been too caught in his own tension. They’d been easy outside on the street, almost like friends, and now … His own discomfort arose because he felt surrounded by Banks. In this small space he seemed to fill Giles’s senses and mind.

Perhaps, if he just touched the man, a careless pat on the shoulder that no one could interpret as containing evil intention—that would help Giles relax.

He drifted closer to the table where Banks was peering into a teapot. Giles lifted his hand, gazed at his uncovered fingers—no gloves for these strange forays into the night—and lightly rested his fingertips on Banks’s shoulder.

He might have set off a bomb.

Banks whirled around. The lid of the pot dropped to the table with a clunk. Giles raised his hands instinctively to ward off any blow, but Banks grabbed Giles by the wrists and pulled at him. And suddenly Giles was yanked into the strong embrace of another man.

There was nothing indecisive or hesitant, no creeping exploration. One second he lightly touched the man, the next he’d been seized and was imprisoned by the strong, strange arms wrapped around him and the hard press of the man, chest to chest, leg to leg.

For the briefest moment he considered protesting, or, absurdly, apologizing for his body’s obvious response, for his cock was nearly erect. Perhaps this embrace didn’t mean—oh God, his breath stuttered in his throat when he realized that warm soft lips pressed to his neck, just below the ear. A kiss. That was so … He tilted his head back to see what was going on or to allow access, he wasn’t sure. And was taken prisoner by the kiss that landed on the corner of his mouth. Giles gave up any idea of saying no when he heard the husky voice whisper, “Please, please just let me. I’ve wanted this so badly for ages.”

The words made no sense. How could Banks have wanted it? Unless any man would do for his purpose. But who gave a damn. Not Giles, because now the fever had struck him, hard–erasing everything but his answering need.

Giles blindly moved his head, his hungry mouth seeking Banks and yes, there the brush of harsh whiskers on his lips and then he found Banks, succulent and hot—and demanding. He groaned against the pressure and reached to hold Banks’s head, letting his fingers explore the soft overlong hair, which was springy and strong under his touch and so much like the man himself, a bit out of control and overwhelmingly desirable.

Beyond the cool strands and the shape of Banks’s skull, oh so many details, but who could pay attention to anything but the long and growing longer kisses so delicious and wet and deep?

His cock was rock hard and slid along Banks’s erection, touching through so many layers of cloth.

He reached down and tentatively traced the shape of the other man through the thick trousers. There was no turning back now; once he’d touched that object, no one could pretend there was no sexual longing between them.

No more pretending. No accidental touches. He grasped the obvious evidence of Banks’s interest and felt his own cock twitch with impatient need.

“Yes.” Banks had yanked off his boots. Now he pulled off his jacket, his tie, his waistcoat. He deftly shoved down his braces and unbuttoned his trousers.

Giles had rarely witnessed such raw eagerness, and his own body answered with an electric shiver of excitement. He attacked his own buttons with less grace, pausing when he saw Banks naked, entirely, gorgeously pale and muscular in the dim light. He’d never seen anything as breathtakingly beautiful before—and he, Giles Fullerton, was allowed to touch and taste that body.

They stood two feet apart, naked, yet not touching. Was that heat the glow of Banks’s body he felt brush his skin? Giles shivered.

“Cold?” Banks said. “Can’t have that.” And he gathered Giles close in a slow, careful embrace.

Giles hissed as their skin, so much bare skin, touched. Entirely naked with another person—he had only had this experience once, in a lake, exchanging teasing, fleeting touches with Wool. Nothing like this strong, unmistakably aroused male body, nude and almost engulfing him with heat. Demanding, not teasing.

“Come with me,” Banks whispered in his ear. He released Giles, who whimpered at the loss of all of that flesh against him, but then Banks grabbed his hand and pulled him along into the other room.

This had been Banks’s marriage bed, but Giles wasn’t about to remind him of that fact. They yanked down the covers and scrambled onto scratchy sheets. Giles gave a half-laugh as the strong arms pulled him in again and within a heartbeat they had arms and legs wrapped around each other, body pressed at last to body. He could hear Banks’s heartbeat thump under his ear.

Giles had imagined that Banks would be lithe and skillful in a way he’d only dreamed of, but he wasn’t ready for pure eagerness. That was a thousand times more exciting. The hunger seized him as well and he forgot everything except the need to feed it with his hands and his mouth.

They kissed lying on their sides: a few seconds later Giles was on his back and then rolling on top of Banks because he’d become as aggressive as he’d ever been in his life. They might have been wrestling, the way they tried harder to get close to each other. Giles’s cock, slippery with near spending, slid along the skin of Banks’s groin, such delicate smooth skin, as he flexed against him, wanting inside his body, inside all that perfect heat.

When Banks reached down and grabbed his cock, Giles shuddered and nearly orgasmed at once. He rolled back onto his side and watched as Banks grabbed them both, unable to wrap their cocks in one hand but holding them together, that astounding sensation of another man’s most intimate, excited part of himself pressed to Giles’s own cock, the thing he usually touched with some reluctance because oh, this was exactly the sort of sight or thought or need that would make him stroke himself.

It was as if Banks had read his mind and knew what his darkest secrets could be. And it was as if he could read exactly what would make Giles squirm with responsiveness at the feel of something so firm and hot around him and on him, touching that spot just near the head.

“It’s too much,” Giles gasped.

Banks let go at once. Giles gave a moan of disappointment and reached for their cocks, those impossibly hard rods and the focus of all sensation. Banks made a noise that might have been a protest, but he only grabbed Giles’s rear and squeezed him as he pumped into Giles’s fist, rubbing, rubbing. Just perfect.

Banks released first, but the tension, the swelling, the signs of that amazing pleasure and then the spurt of seed, brought Giles’s own orgasm less than a heartbeat later. He stilled both of his hands, which grasped each cock as they pumped and pushed together and cried out and cursed and gradually stilled.

Both of them were now slick with semen and the start of perspiration, although hardly because the room was chilled and they’d only been on the bed for a matter of several minutes.

Giles propped himself up on an elbow, to watch Banks, and to wonder what on earth would happen next. He discovered he was too curious to run away. Would they sneak from the room back to their clothes? His body felt shattered and reassembled into something less brimming with tension, but he supposed he could easily fetch up embarrassment and even horror.

He didn’t want to. That had been the way when he and Wool indulged their darkest desires, but oh, they had been so young and frightened. He found he was not afraid, not of what had just taken place, nor of the desires that had pushed him to follow a near stranger home and crawl into his bed, naked.

Banks sprawled on his back and grinned up at the ceiling. “Next time,” he said in a conversational tone, “we shall last longer. I will lick and suck you into my mouth.”

Giles felt a stirring and a stretching at the thought. Just words were pushing his sated body back toward hunger.

Banks turned his head, the soft shush of his hair on the sheets. He looked at Giles and his smile dissipated a little.

“I know you enjoyed yourself,” Banks said, but he didn’t sound convinced. This was a sign of hesitancy and worry and Giles didn’t like that, not in the confident lamplighter’s manner.

“I did.” He leaned forward and … a kiss would be too affectionate and intimate at the moment, so he licked the edge of Banks’s mouth. A small lap of the tongue.

Banks laughed and slid up and around and there they were, in each other’s arms again. And now a kiss was a matter of need and desire, so Giles let his lips rub Banks’s. And he imagined that mouth down, down, down around his cock and he nearly panted as his arousal moved from dreamy to sharp and needing in less than the draw of a breath.