and down to his toes. As Ciaran licked a long line up his neck, he felt it all over, but especially in his groin and lower abdomen. It was like the two places were connected by a nerve, making him yearn for Ciaran’s hand on his bare flesh.
As if Ciaran read his thoughts, he abruptly let go of Bannon’s back. He bit down on the spot between shoulder and neck, and Bannon felt a jolt. His body jerked, making the water splash. He tightened his fists in Ciaran’s hair. Ciaran chuckled against his skin, and even more water sloshed out of the tub onto the stone floor.
Ciaran gripped the falls of Bannon’s trousers, and all Bannon could think was yes! He fumbled around, jostling Bannon’s cock with the backs of his fingers.
It was heaven and hell, and if Ciaran didn’t touch him soon, he just might expire on the spot. A spear of longing zipped through his bollocks and settled into his stomach, making it tense and his bollocks draw tighter. If his body could talk, it’d be begging and pleading like a starving man.
Bannon groaned.
“Why do ye have so many clothes on? How do ye get these things open?” Ciaran huffed out against his neck.
“I don’t. I’m practically naked.” He hadn’t bothered with his cravat, waistcoat, and coat this morning, since Louie hadn’t been there to help him. It wasn’t like anyone would care. They certainly didn’t wear as many clothes. Now he might never wear a cravat again if it meant this ease of access. He loved the feel of lips on his neck. Perhaps Trouble had a point about cravats being suffocating.
“Nae, ye are nae.” Ciaran pulled back, looking down at them and breaking Bannon’s bliss.
To expedite things, Bannon knocked his hands out of the way and undid his trousers.
“This is why ye should wear a kilt.”
Bannon snorted. “I dinna like wearing kilts.”
With a bark of laughter at Bannon’s mockery, Ciaran nipped his bottom lip. “If you wear a kilt, I can get to your cock so much easier,” Ciaran said, sounding like the stuffiest of Regelence lords.
Grinning, Bannon kissed him. “That was verra—”
Ciaran’s hand plunged into his smallclothes and wrapped around Bannon’s prick.
Forgetting what he was about to say, Bannon hissed and bucked his hips upward.
“Ye were saying?” A teasing sparkle lit Ciaran’s eyes.
“Not a thing.”
“Guid.” Ciaran stroked up and down in a nice slow rhythm and a tight grip with the water easing the way. “Touch me, Red.”
Nodding, Bannon let his head loll back on his shoulders. He had just enough mind power left to reach between them and grab Ciaran’s cock, and galaxy be damned, he was thick.
Bannon had seen a glimpse of him in the water when he’d stood over him to wash his back, but the peek did not do him justice. He lifted his head and peered down. He’d meant to look at Ciaran, but his attention was snagged by the sight of Ciaran’s big hand stroking his cock. Goodness, he was still dressed. Something about that made the whole thing even more erotic. He watched the crown of his cock peek out of Ciaran’s fist, then that big hand drag upward, hiding all but the tip of Bannon’s cock. Decadent and erotic. It was nearly enough to make him spill. Bannon’s whole body went tight, and he looked away, concentrating on the hard heat in his palm. He watched his own hand do the same to Ciaran under the water.
It felt so odd holding another person like this. He could actually feel the tickling caress on his own hand. “I’ve never done this before.” The awe in his voice was evident even to him, but he couldn’t help it. He was mesmerized. Enchanted. There was just something about the forbidden that made it feel soooo good.
“Ever?” Ciaran asked. His lips tickled Bannon’s neck.
Shaking his head, Bannon marveled at the flesh against his palm. He could feel every pulse, every muscle flinch. He could feel Ciaran swelling more. “Not to anyone else.”
Ciaran lifted his head and looked at him, his dark eyes heavy-lidded. For several moments they just stared at each other. It was amazing, and never had Bannon felt more connected to another person. “Ye are doing j… just fine.” His breath hitched.
Bannon wavered back and forth, caught between pleasure and excitement. Pleasure at what Ciaran was doing to him and the excitement of actually getting to touch Ciaran. His ego crowed at the thought of making this big man