Then Ciaran twisted his hand just right, rubbing the under edge of the crown of Bannon’s cock, and Bannon was lost again in pleasure as his own body quaked and strained toward release.
Wrapped in sensation, Bannon became aware of the splat of water keeping a steady staccato on the gray stone floor as it spilled over the edge, and Ciaran’s heavy breathing as he rested his head on Bannon’s shoulder. Together they stroked and caressed. Their lips found each other again. Their breath mingled, and finally it was too much. Freeing his mouth, Bannon shook his head, fighting release. His gaze focused on Ciaran’s bare shoulder, the tight sinewy deltoid, that triangle of skin and muscle connecting to his neck.
Bite him, Timothy whispered.
Bannon obeyed. He clamped down on the skin and tightened his grip, stroking faster.
Ciaran dropped his head back, roaring out his pleasure as his cock pulsed in Bannon’s hand.
It was like being shocked. Bannon’s whole body tensed and followed Ciaran in pleasure. His bollocks pulled tight and everything exploded.
Slowly he came back to himself, feeling relaxed but slightly less enamored at sitting in a tub of water with his feet dangling over the side. He kissed Ciaran’s neck, then licked all the way to his ear, just because he could.
“That tickles.”
Bannon leaned back, letting go of Ciaran’s prick. He glanced down at himself and didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace. He sat sideways on Ciaran’s thighs in a tub, with his spent cock flopped over helplessly against his belly. The falls of his pants lay on his thighs and his smallclothes were scrunched down. The water was wicking down the legs of his pants almost to his calves. And his boots…. Good grief, they needed polishing. He’d never thought he was fussy, but no, he was having to reassess that idea. You just came your brains out, and you are worried about your appearance? What a dolt. That made him chuckle. “I look ridiculous.”
“Ye look delicious.” Ciaran kissed his cheek. “But this water is getting cold. If I sit here any longer, my bawbag will be small as an acorn.”
That made Bannon laugh even harder. “Your what?”
“My bawbag. Ye ken.” As if to point out his meaning, he reached down and tugged on Bannon’s bollocks through the linen fabric of his smallclothes.
Bannon sucked in a breath. His brain flared with interest, but his cock said no way. “I love the way you talk.”
Ciaran smirked. “Well, what do ye call it?”
“Bollocks.”
“Hmm….”
He gave Ciaran one last kiss and reluctantly got up. It was not an easy task. His feet slid on the wet stone, and he nearly fell back into the tub. He flailed about for a moment, but then Ciaran placed a hand on his arse and shoved. Bannon finally stood up and tucked himself back into his pants and then buttoned them up. He turned just in time to see Ciaran stand. His brain went numb.
Ciaran was all dripping muscles and all man as he reached for the towel on the chair next to him. “What do ye call ye boaby?”
“My what?” The word was so silly Bannon couldn’t help but chuckle. Surely Ciaran was jesting, but his face was serious. “Is that like a bogle?”
Wrapping the towel around his hips Ciaran stepped out of the tub and frowned. “Nae.” He moved his towel aside and grabbed his cock. Oh wow! Even spent it was a thing of beauty, big like the rest of him. “Ye ken, a tadger,” Ciaran said.
“You mean a penis?” Bannon choked out. The idea of calling it a boaby or tadger was just too much. He started chuckling and couldn’t stop. Ciaran gave him a fierce look that only made him laugh harder.
With a shake of his head, Ciaran grinned and grabbed his plaid and started to wrap it around his waist. “Penis sounds stranger than boaby or tadger,” he mumbled.
Bannon laughed so hard, he had tears in his eyes. Gads. Who knew intimacy would be this fun?
When Bannon finally stopped chortling, Ciaran said softly, “Red?”
“Yeah?”
Serious and steady, Ciaran met his gaze. “Get ready tae go tae the building site. We may need ye superior marksmanship. I suspect they ken we are coming.”
Bannon’s chest grew tight, but he couldn’t decide if it was from fear of having to use the fragger again or the fact that Ciaran trusted him so much. Probably both. He did not want to have to kill more men, even though he knew he could if needed, but