belly, beckoning Bannon to touch it. When he did, Ciaran hissed out a breath.
“That’s it, Red, stroke me.”
Bannon nodded because he was certain he couldn’t draw enough air to speak with such desire enveloping him. Ciaran’s hard heat slid through his hand like velvet over steel. And Ciaran threw his head back and moaned. It was a deep guttural sound that reverberated through Bannon and sounded better than any music he’d ever heard.
After that, everything else got a little hazy as Ciaran started to move and they both got carried away racing toward completion. Ciaran rode him up and down, sliding Bannon’s cock through his arse, and Bannon stroked Ciaran over and over. They both sought their pleasure, watching each other the whole time. It should have been odd, but it wasn’t. Bannon had never felt closer to anyone in his life. It was as if they shared a soul, a mind. They both wanted the same thing. Together they moved faster and faster. Their panting drowned out the crackling of the fire.
When the end came, Bannon thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He found himself thrusting up as Ciaran pushed down. Sweat trickled down his temples, and his vision blurred. His lungs seized tight and his testicles drew up into his body. It was as if every muscle contracted to the point of pain and then released into the deepest state of relaxation imaginable. At that moment he was no longer aware of any of his surroundings, just the need to climax. He gasped as his peak hit him in waves. It only lasted a moment, but the pleasure exploded, then trickled through him.
Heat landed on his stomach and ran down his hands as Ciaran stiffened above him. His arse clenched tight around Bannon’s cock, making Bannon gasp again. Slowly Ciaran’s muscles loosened, and he seemed to melt.
Taking a deep breath, then another, Bannon came back to himself. The crackle of the fire sounded again, the light played over Ciaran’s magnificent body, and even with the plaid, the stone floor was cool beneath him.
Best thing ever! Let’s do it again! Timothy shouted in his head.
Bannon couldn’t move if he wanted to. Staring up at the high timber ceiling, he felt as if he’d turned to jelly. He must look a fright with his trousers around his knees and his shirt halfway up his chest.
Ciaran still sat on top of him. His neck arched back, black hair falling over his right shoulder. He took a deep breath, then another, and Ciaran looked down at him. Those ebony eyes were heavy-lidded, but a slow sexy smile eased onto Ciaran’s generous lips.
At that moment everything just sort of clicked into place. Bannon wanted to stay. He wanted to stay with Ciaran. The realization terrified him. Butterflies sparked to life in his stomach.
Ciaran ran his fingers down Bannon’s chest. He bent forward and bussed Bannon on the lips.
Just like that, his stomach settled, and everything seemed right. The glowing feeling returned. He wanted to tell Ciaran that he wanted to stay, but there would be time for that later. For some reason he couldn’t seem to make himself put voice to the feeling. It was still so new, so big.
The surprise must have shown on his face, because Ciaran cocked his head slightly and asked, “Are ye going tae make it, lad?”
Bannon nodded, thinking he might just be ready for more. His cock tried to stir, but Timothy, damn him, decided to have his say.
You do realize we are in an extremely compromising position in the middle of the great hall, don’t you?
Technically they were behind the laird’s table and fairly concealed, but Timothy did have a point. “We should probably get up in case someone comes in.”
“Mmmm…. Ye are probably right.” Cocking his head as if thinking about something, Ciaran asked, “Sleep in my room?”
Louie will have our head.
Hang Louie. “Yes.”
Ciaran shifted his weight, rising, and groaned when Bannon’s cock slipped from him completely.
Bannon’s groan was interrupted by a loud scraping noise.
Panic seized Bannon, and Timothy yelled, bogle!
Bannon jumped up so fast, he knocked Ciaran on his arse, but he didn’t stop. He clutched his trousers and hobbled to the staircase, trying to pull them up.
Ciaran’s laughter rang out behind him. And apparently Ciaran knew him too well, because he said, “’Twas my foot hitting the bench, Red. Nae a bogle.”
Sighing, Bannon stopped right before the stairs. His heart did not return to normal, however. “Fie on you and your dumb