Boats in the night (5 page)

Thrusting into tight, hot flesh until he forgot who he was and why he hurt.

Smutty took hold of Giles’s dick and set up a hypnotic rhythm, rubbing the foreskin

up and down, giving a little twist and tweak at the top of each stroke. Sparks crackled through Giles’s body, waking up every nerve ending, every blood vessel, every sweat gland. But it wasn’t enough.

“Suck me,” he rasped, shocked at the need in his voice. “Please. Now.”

Giles had a vague twinge of guilt at the fact he was letting Smutty do all the work, but then thought fled as a hot, wet mouth enveloped him. He groaned from deep inside, his body sinking back against the mattress even as it pressed up, desperate for more of Smutty’s mouth. But Smutty drew back, running his tongue over and around and under and back like they had all the time in the universe. Giles watched, fascinated, as that shock of dreadlocks became a fiery nimbus. To think that he was here, on this hovel of a boat, being given the most exquisite blowjob of his life by a man with crazy hair and tattoos! Him: Giles

Rathbourne. The man Fabian had said didn’t have an adventurous bone in his body.

Screw Fabian.

No, wait. Screw Smutty. That was a much better idea.

Smutty made a happy sound, drawing him deep and swallowing. Giles’s balls started

to draw tight and he remembered Smutty’s ground rules. Bugger.

“Enough,” he said, reaching out to touch Smutty’s hair. It was surprisingly soft, just like his skin. “Please! That’s enough. I want to… not like this.”

“Like how?” There was a teasing lilt to Smutty’s voice.

“Lie down, on your side,” Giles ordered. “No, facing away from me.”

There was a crease on Smutty’s brow but he went along with Giles’s request.

Giles ran his hands over the flame tattoo, mapped out those hard muscles and parted

those succulent cheeks. He ran a finger over Smutty’s hole, felt him jerk at the contact, and smiled. He knew what he wanted to do now. It was by the rules and would feel almost as good as fucking.

“Do you have anything we can use as lube?” Giles asked.

Smutty’s body stiffened. “I told you,” he said, his voice tense. “Not without a

condom.”

“Shhh.” Giles pressed a kiss to the tip of a flame licking up between those shoulder blades. He scooted up so that he could lean over and talk into Smutty’s ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll be good. I just want to rub against you. On the outside. I’ll stay outside, I promise.” He ran his hand over Smutty’s hammering heart, feeling it slow gradually as he described lazy circles with his fingertips.

Smutty licked his lips. “Okay. I should have some Vaseline. Got it for the engine.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Hang on.”

Smutty was back in moments, and Giles did his best to ignore the oily fingerprints on the outside of the tub. He took a dollop out and slathered his cock. Smutty watched, mute and blank.

“Here.” Giles patted the mattress. “Back where you were. Come on.”

There was a long moment when he didn’t think Smutty was going to join him again,

leaving him lying there like a bloody fool, his prick glistening in the firelight. But then Smutty sighed and fell down beside him, landing elegantly, his body so much lither than Giles’s own.

Giles took another kiss, slower this time, trying to make it reassuring. He was relieved to feel the tension gradually melt out of the man’s muscles. Some bastard must have taken advantage, or tried to, at some point in the past. The thought brought with it a surge of protective feelings, strong yet tender. Giles gathered Smutty up in his arms, clutching him close, covering him with his body, kissing him into submission. And when the man was pliant and panting, Giles rolled him over and kissed his neck.

“Ready?”

“Mmmm.”

Careful not to startle him, Giles lifted Smutty’s upper thigh, nudged his cock into the cleft revealed, then pushed the leg back down again. It was just as good as he’d hoped, trapped in that febrile heat, every thrust forward pushing into Smutty’s balls and making him gasp. Smutty reached back and grabbed his hip, using the anchorage to rock into each thrust.

“Fuck! That’s good,” Smutty panted. He gave a surprised, breathless laugh.

Giles smiled against the back of Smutty’s neck. He reached around, took hold of that long prick and pumped slowly to the rhythm of his hips. Pre-come leaked over his fingers, sweat pooled between them, ragged breathing wove a damp cocoon around them. Giles tasted the salty tang of Smutty’s skin and felt the heat gathering low in his spine, simmering in his balls and threatening to boil over. He sped up the motion of his hand, wanting to drag Smutty with him, wanting to feel him twitch and convulse with pleasure.

Smutty came with a wordless cry, hoarse and desperate and just about the sexiest

sound Giles had ever heard. Spunk spurted over his hand as Smutty’s cock pulsed in his grip.

With his last vestige of control he milked every last drop out, then surrendered to the incendiary desire flooding his body. Sparks ignited behind his eyelids as he shot liquid fire.

The fever rushed through him, burning up everything in its path, annihilating him completely.

Giles had one last, irrational thought as he clutched Smutty tight to his chest.

Mine.

Chapter Six

Smutty woke shivering, aware of a warm body pressed up behind him, but that

couldn’t compensate for a complete lack of blankets. Unwelcome memories threatened to rise, but he beat them back down again. He wasn’t sore. It hadn’t happened again. Good.

But where on earth was he? A single light-bulb glowed feebly, and he gradually made

sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. Oh yeah, the new boat. Home, although after only one night spent there, she didn’t feel that way just yet. Which meant all that business with Giles hadn’t been a dream after all. He turned slowly, carefully pulling away where they’d been stuck together with drying spunk, in an effort not to wake his companion. Giles’s face was soft in sleep. Much younger, none of that hurt and anger showing. The man was handsome; not that looks were all that important. It was what was inside that mattered. Starlight had taught him well.

Smutty smiled as his gaze explored Giles’s body. Hairy, powerful and broad across the shoulders, but not particularly in shape. There was a hint of softness around his middle—

perhaps the result of a desk job. Men with bodies like Giles’s needed to be out working the land or toiling away with machinery. He could do it, too. There’d been a brute energy to the way Giles moved last night that revealed what he was capable of.

Not that it should matter to him. He’d have to move on soon enough. Shame, though.

It wasn’t often he met blokes who turned him on as much as Giles did, but who weren’t pushy arseholes he had to run a mile from.

It would have been good to snuggle up again, but he needed a piss and he couldn’t

exactly leave the light on all night. Not if he wanted any battery power tomorrow, and if he couldn’t get the engine going again he’d have a problem. Dealing without electric light would be fine, but he didn’t much fancy having to use a bucket to fetch water out of his tank if the pump was down. Smutty yawned, pushed himself up and looked around for the spare

sleeping bag. Giles stirred as the fabric settled over him, but his breathing eased back down to a slow rise and fall.

Candles. That was next on the list. There were some in his bag, surely? Smutty found one and melted the end so it would stick to the galley worktop. He’d have stuck it on a saucer, but he was seriously short of supplies – only having the single set of enamel camping plate, bowl and mug he’d brought with him. Grouch had left a lot of junk on the boat: coils of old rope, grimy engine bits and rotten wood, but there was little in the way of everyday equipment. He supposed he should be thankful the bloke had left him the Portapotti, although it would have been nice if he’d taken the time to empty and clean it first.

But once he had the candle burning and the electric light off,
Freya
felt like a much more welcoming place. There was nothing here that couldn’t be cleaned, tidied and fixed.

Nothing that couldn’t be made into a home. One he couldn’t be forced off by some heartless landowner. No, she was going to be great. Smutty grinned, looking around the space and picturing her all done up the way he wanted. He could put stained glass in the portholes and a great big skylight in the roof to brighten her up.

The plans whirling through his head would keep him from sleeping, he knew. After

braving the Portapotti and a quick cat’s lick of a wash with a flannel, he found his clothes from the night before and pulled them back on, adding a thick jumper and jacket, then fought with the door to let himself out onto the front deck. He’d have to squirt some WD-40 in that latch later, and he mentally added it to the long list of things to do.

First light was touching the sky in the east, turning the canal a delicate peach in that direction. Smutty watched, entranced, as gossamer tendrils of mist rose off the water and hung in the air. Dewdrops glistened everywhere, as if the world had been strewn with jewels overnight. The first bird called, a fish splashed in the water, and the world began to wake.

It would be a beautiful place to stay, but it wasn’t his. Giles didn’t know how lucky he was.

Smutty turned back inside. Maybe he could sneak back under the sleeping bag

without waking Giles. Maybe he could find a more pleasant way to wake him up.

However, Giles was sitting up in bed, glaring at him. “What the hell do you think

you’re doing, going out and leaving me here asleep with a candle burning? Are you out of your mind?”

Smutty blinked and glanced at the candle, still upright and perfectly safe. He

remembered Giles’s erratic behaviour the previous morning and decided to ignore his

outburst. “Morning Giles. Pleasant dreams?” Using some of his precious electricity he ran the pump to fill a kettle then set it on the stove. “Now, I don’t have any
tea
tea, but I’m sure if you give it a chance, some ginseng will sort out your head.”

He looked over to see Giles rubbing his eyes savagely.

“You shouldn’t leave candles unattended,” Giles insisted, but his voice was calmer

now, almost apologetic. “If you had any idea… It… it’s just, it’s a bit of a, uh, sore point with me. Some history.”

“Okay. Point noted for future reference.” Smutty paused, pondering his alternatives.

“Do you know if there’s anywhere you can buy paraffin lanterns locally? I’m going to need something for light in the evenings.”

“But you’ve got electric lights.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have any way of charging the battery with a dead engine.”

“Oh. I see.”

Giles was quiet as Smutty made the tea, looking around the boat with a strange

expression on his face. “Aren’t you having one?” he asked, as Smutty handed him the enamel mug.

Smutty shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine right now.” Actually, he was parched, but he

didn’t want to make Giles feel guilty about monopolising the only mug. Smutty’s stomach rumbled. He had a voracious appetite, but didn’t fancy trying to eat a biscuit without anything to wash it down, plus Giles didn’t seem like the sort to appreciate rolling around in biscuit crumbs so it might put a stop to any continuation of the previous night’s activities.

Smutty sat back against the bulkhead and made himself comfy with a pillow. Giles

scooted up next to him, awkwardly holding the sleeping bag over his lap in some kind of effort to hide his nakedness. Smutty grinned. “I saw it all last night, you know. I had it in my mouth.”

It was fun to watch Giles flush and stammer then try to hide it by taking a sip of tea.

Giles’s face was a picture. “Jesus Christ! What is this stuff?”

“Korean ginseng and ginger. Excellent pick-me-up. Should put fire in your belly, and it’s reputed to stimulate the libido as well.” Smutty waggled his eyebrows suggestively and laughed as Giles’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you finish the cup before I molest you.”

Giles’s eyes widened and he took another tentative sip. “It’s vile. Oh God, not the idea of you molesting me, I mean, the tea is vile. I mean, Christ, I’m sorry. It’s good of you to make it for me but—”

“Giles, you’re babbling. Just calm down a minute and drink it, okay? It’ll help with the headache.”

Giles nodded and complied. He finished about half the mug, grimacing with every

mouthful.

“How did you know I have a headache?”

“Besides the expression on your face and your foul temper yesterday morning before

you’d had your dose of caffeine? Hmm, not sure, maybe it was the way you rubbed your temples like you’d confused a massage with an assault.”

Giles’s face softened, and Smutty took in the endearingly rumpled hair and the print of the pillow still marking his cheek. Wouldn’t it be lovely to wake up with someone like this every morning? Well, minus the shouty, grumpy part, of course. He reached out to smooth a curl of hair back from Giles’s brow. “How is the head today?”

Giles screwed his forehead up in thought. “Actually, it’s not as bad as usual.”

“See, that’ll be the ginseng.”

“More likely it’s the lack of a hangover,” Giles muttered, looking down into the mug before taking another sip. He wouldn’t meet Smutty’s gaze.

“Is that a regular problem?” Smutty asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, non-

judgemental.

Giles sighed deeply. “It’s become so. Recently. Since Fabian left. Well, before, really, when everything was going sour.”

Smutty took Giles’s free hand and gently squeezed. “It won’t help you escape your

problems, though, will it? It only ends up making them worse and taking your health with it.”

“Spare me the lecture,” Giles said, the bitterness in his voice surprising Smutty. “You don’t even drink, so don’t give me all that hippie nonsense.”

“You want to know why I don’t drink?” Smutty thought he did a fairly good job of

keeping his voice calm despite the provocation.