The Beauty of Coincidence | manxman | (Historical Fiction)

XXX - Requiem of a Memory

Jealousy.

It was a shade Victor never thought would reach his complexion. Though flushed from head to toe in the hotness that ran through his body, it was mostly brought on by the resilience of the drive put in each upward lunge as Reynold progressed into his body. Lain in the dark-haired man's own bed at his personal residence, they'd taken up this moment out of sight and mind of anyone who could wonder of their whereabouts. With one hand pressed against Reynold's bare chest, Victor turned his hips hard and with a passionate rhythm that spoke of his previous urgency.

This moment, for Reynold, had come from nowhere. For eight hours out of his day, he'd been below the shop, working diligently and hurriedly to finish the extensive gift he wished to showcase to Victor in due time. After so many hours, he'd merely returned to the home not long ago. If anything, he was glad to have been given the opportunity to clean up if this was the position he was to find himself in. And there surely were no complaints to be had. If Victor were to seek him every day in hopes of gathering the fullness of their love, he would gladly make certain he was prepared for each and every meeting. When Victor came down onto his impaling shaft once more, Reynold sat up and laid the beautiful lord back.

Victor's head lay nearest to the foot of the bed, his brilliant tresses hanging over the edge as his hands began to wander, searching for anything to grasp onto as he gritted his teeth. Reynold clasped firmly into the lord's thighs, fingers leaving impressions into the light flesh. He looked down on himself, mind reeling at the mere sight of the girth of his cock settling into the walls of Victor's body over and over. He didn't know how long it would honestly take for him to realize the moments that never ceased to take place between them were real. Ever since the first day he'd shared a mere kiss with the young lord, this – these moments never failed to feel like an instance that was still somehow out of reach.

Always, Reynold could see plain as day that Victor was laid before him, in his arms, against his lips, and yet there remained the constant sense that the experience of being at Victor's side was fleeting. How could I, Reynold wondered, be so unlike any other? There couldn't have possibly been another path Victor's life would have taken him down. If it had not been Reynold who chanced the meeting that had taken place between them, could it also be said that someday another could have given Victor what he wished to supply, be in this position they were in right now?

Just pondering the topic of another man laying their hands upon Victor, intimately, lovingly, couple such touches with reminders and promises of whispered treasures, Reynold hated even the idea of it all. Bastard, that would be his thoughts toward anyone who could have ever taken his place. Reaching forward as his cock never let up in the progression of his strokes, the craftsman placed the fair tips of his fingers at Victor's lower stomach. Even with such a minute gesture, a shuddering sensation traveled up through the blond man's stomach and into his heart.

Reynold circled the tip of his index finger around Victor's navel, tracing the drag down then until he played the teasing motion around the head of the young lord's cock. The whimper that sounded was provoking enough to cause a chill to venture from the nape of Reynold's neck down into the ache of his being. With a push of his thumb then, an even more heightened call left Victor's pink lips. Given Frank's absence from the living quarters, and Evie's occupied nature down in the shop, there was no care in whether or not they should attempt to remain quiet. Besides, such determinations for them to remain quiet were hardly doable to begin with. Reynold wanted to hear Victor's voice, his pleasured cries, what commands – if any – would leave him.

"I wish to know, my love," Reynold said, not letting up the plunge of his cock or the gentle motion placed at the tip of Victor's being. "You truly sought me just for this? So I may give what you know I always will?"