Chapter 23

Anthony held him, stroked him through it, watched his face, and adored every single second of tangible pleasure written there.

* * * *

Robert, lying on his brother’s rug in his brother’s study, could not breathe for an instant, pierced by ecstasy. Sensations whirled and spun and burst in fireworks; he could feel the weave of the rug, the presence of his own clothing—still nearly fully dressed, all but his cock, where Anthony’d taken him in hand and drawn him out and ordered him to spend himself, and where Anthony now held him and stroked him and made him gasp with the edge of too muchand please more—

He lay under Anthony, who knelt above him. He watched dazedly as Anthony, with a handful of Robert’s release, lifted the hand and licked at the stickiness collected there.

He could not think, and he wanted this always: he wanted to belong to Anthony, just like this, to be Anthony’s. In bed, in life, in a study, on a rug.