He left the bed to get a small, glass bottle of oil and then crawled back onto the bed, the mattress dipping.
Robert opened his thighs wide, and Ian moved between them. His oil-slicked fingers traced down the underside of Robert’s cock, cradled his balls, and then, one hand gripping his arse cheek to spread him, pressed inside.
Robert wrapped his hand around his own throbbing length, skin flushing as Ian teased him with his fingers, a slow press in, a long draw out.
He wanted more.
He squirmed, he writhed, he pressed down hard with his hips. When Ian pulled out, abruptly, he nearly sobbed.
And then Ian was back, cockstand wet with oil.
He pressed against Robert’s thigh, forcing him wider and higher. And then Robert was being stretched again, and it was almost too much to accept. It burned slightly, but he wanted Ian more than he cared about the pain.
Slowly, Ian pushed into him. Slowly, until Ian’s balls were flush against his arse, and his hot, hard cock was deep inside him.
Ian braced himself on his arms above Robert, breathing heavily. He was trembling as he searched Robert’s face, gray eyes dark and intent. And Robert etched this vision into his mind so he would never, ever forget it.
“Good?” was all Ian said.
“Perfect.”
…
Ian felt like he was breaking apart inside. It had never been like this. Not ever. And it was both too much and not enough and more than he could have ever hoped for.
He stared into dark eyes as he moved. And he knew what made the difference. Trust. Love. Faith. The things he’d never had before. Until Robert.
He could barely hold himself up, but he wanted to see Robert’s face, flushed and heavy-lidded. As he thrust, Robert stroked himself, and it wasn’t long before his leisurely pace wasn’t enough.
For either of them.
Robert dug his feet into the backs of Ian’s legs, like he could spur him on as one might spur on a horse. Wry amusement flashed through him.
This was different, too. Being comfortable enough with a lover to find humor in even the rawest, most intimate situation. Different, but good.
“Fuck me harder, Cameron,” Robert groaned. He kept his voice quiet, but the command in it was unmistakable. “Press me into the mattress. Fuck me like you mean it.”
Ian finally let himself collapse, arms no longer capable of holding his weight. With Robert pinioned helplessly beneath him, he thrust hard and deep and quick. Skin slapped against skin, and they muffled their grunts and pants and groans by pouring them into each other’s mouths.
Robert wrapped one arm around Ian’s back, clutching him tight, pressing his sweat-dampened face into Ian’s neck. His hand snaked between them and he worked his cock again, the motions quicker and shorter this time. Ian felt him gasp and then shudder, and the wet warmth of Robert’s release pooled slick against Ian’s stomach.
Ian was right behind him. His orgasm tingled in his balls and then exploded outward with a force that left him weak. He crushed Robert to his chest, held on for all he was worth as his breathing slowed. He was drained and vulnerable, and somehow, he’d never felt more content.
Then he worried he might be cutting off Robert’s air supply, so he rolled onto his back. But he felt cold, all of a sudden. He didn’t like the distance. He threw an arm around Robert’s waist and pressed into his side.
He couldn’t quite dredge up the willpower to let him go just yet, even though they were sticky and sweaty and they should probably be cleaning themselves up. The light filling the room was still soft and diffused, but it wouldn’t be long before dawn faded into day. Ian would need to leave soon.
But for now, he simply let himself bask in the quiet and the light and Robert’s breathing, deep and steady.
Robert’s hand was warm against Ian’s back, following the path of his spine. It lulled him…until… “Do I get to fuck you sometime?”
Ian felt his groin tighten with curious heat, even though he was utterly spent. Robert could do anything he wanted to him. He wasn’t sure how the other man hadn’t realized that yet.
He settled for a soft “Aye.”
Robert’s chest moved as he laughed, just as soft. “I’ve been thinking…I have enough money…maybe I could build a house here. Somewhere on Theo’s land, or I could even buy a small portion of land for myself. I would have a private space for writing, and we could see each other as often as we wanted.”
Ian stilled. He hadn’t thought this far into the future. It was a hurdle he thought they’d cross later, and it brought out another fear that he would have rather ignored. “You wouldn’t get bored in the Highlands? Without society?”
“I’ve been here for the better part of two years and I haven’t gotten bored yet,” Robert pointed out. “The majority of my family is here. And some of the tenants are growing fond of me, I’m sure of it.”
Ian found himself smiling. He didn’t doubt it. He could picture Robert coming along, the opposite of his brother, overwhelming them with charm.
“I’ll need to travel to Edinburgh sometimes. I like to turn in my manuscripts to my editor in person, and it will be nice to see Eleanor. But your work is here, which means you are here. So I want to spend most of my time here, as well.” He paused, and then, his voice a little quieter, said, “I know we shall have to be careful. I know it will be difficult at times—there will be sacrifices that other people don’t have to make. But if it was between you and everyone else, I would choose you, every time.”
“I wouldna want you to have to make that choice.”
“I know,” he mused. “I doubt I’ll have to. But I wished for you to know.”
“Robert,” he said, after the space of a few heartbeats.
“What?”
“You haven’t said it.”
Robert, somehow, seemed to know what he meant. “Isn’t it obvious?”
It was obvious. But he could ask for this. He could want this. He could allow himself to want it. Allow himself to be vulnerable in front of the person who mattered the most. So he repeated Robert’s words back to him. Robert was better with words, after all, and if he could borrow his faith until it became his own, he could borrow these, too.
“But it would be nice to hear it. More than nice.”
Robert shifted lower on the bed and pressed his lips to Ian’s temple. When he spoke, his breath fluttered against Ian’s hair. “I love you, Ian Cameron, taciturn, difficult thing that you are.”
Ian’s heart felt full to bursting. “I didna ask for the last part.”
“Then…I just love you, and that’s all.”
When Ian tilted his face up to kiss Robert, the other man was smiling, and Ian etched the feel of it, the shape of it, into his lips. And he breathed those three words back to him, and made them his own.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The houseguests had left a fortnight ago, the happily married John and Alice Hale among them. Robert had been glad to see those two content, but he’d never been more relieved in his life to see a group leave.
He renewed his vow to himself—even if there were torrential floods and fire raining down from the sky, he was not going to invite anyone in ever again.
Theo and Annabel returned, and when they asked if everything had gone smoothly in their absence, Robert, Georgina, and Frances had looked at one another and been overcome with nearly hysterical laughter.
He was not proud to admit this, but they gave Theo and Annabel an edited version of events. The stealing scandal was left out completely, since it had been resolved, and they didn’t mention that Robert had been caught in Miss Worthington’s room, because he would have had to explain why or face Theo’s disappointment. So they only told them about their surprise guests and John and Alice’s sudden anvil wedding.