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“Why?”

He didn’t answer, dropping the sword on the ground before going to work on the second belt I was wearing, the one not holding an antique weapon on my hip. His nimble fingers had it unbuckled in seconds.

“Aaron?”

“You’re not checking on the guests.”

I went back to survey the crowd. “I think it’s going okay.”

“Good,” he said, kissing the back of my neck quickly before he was suddenly on his knees behind me, biting my ass through the thin fabric of the breeches.

“Aaron.” I bucked hard.

“So, guess what got finished today?” he asked as his hands released the toggle clasp on the front of the breeches and made quick work of the trouser stays.

“I …” He wanted me to carry on a conversation? “What?”

“Your greystone,” he answered, sliding the pants and the jock down together until both hit the top of the boots.

“Oh,” I moaned, opening my legs as far as they would go, bending forward, hands fisted in the drapes, holding tight as I arched my back.

“So, now,” he said, parting my cheeks, “we can start buying things for it.”

“Yeah, we—oh,” I groaned softly as he slid his tongue inside me.

“That was a good, sound investment on your part,” he praised, then speared his tongue in deeper and deeper before pulling out and swirling it around my hole.

“Aaron.” I jerked back against him.

He pushed back in, licking and laving, stretching me slowly, relaxing the muscles, his face pushed between my cheeks, massaging as he feasted on me until I was coated with his saliva.

When he added a finger, sliding back and forth over my prostate, I started fucking myself on it, harder and harder.

“Here,” he purred, and I felt the stretch in my ass as he added another finger, still moving gradually, in and out, back and forth, the rhythm slow but steady, relentless.

When he reached around and took my cock in his hand, I moaned softly. “Please,” I begged him.

“Could you take me without lube?” he asked, rising behind me, stroking me from balls to head repeatedly. “Duncan? Could you?”

In answer, I thrust out my ass for him.

“God, I love that you would,” he purred, kissing my back as I heard the tear of foil. “But that’s what lube packets are for.”

“Are you kidding?” The planning was impressive. “You had the presence of mind to grab lube on the way out of the house?”

“The way you’re dressed,” he said, his voice dark and low, “there was no way you were making it home without getting fucked.”

“That’s kind of romantic.”

“Only to you,” he husked, hands on my hips, positioning himself behind me before sliding easily between my cheeks, the press of him at my entrance making me gasp. “Ever since I got home and saw you … Jesus, Duncan, do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

His entry burned; the stretch, even with the lube, was rough instead of the usual slide. He had to wedge himself in, grind and shove, inch by inch … and I loved every second.

“Jerk yourself off. You’re so tight and hot, there’s no way I can do anything but fuck you.”

His words, my hand on my shaft, tugging and pulling, and his thick cock moving inside me made me jolt backward and impale myself on his length.

“Oh fuck,” Aaron rasped, hands like claws on my shoulders, holding tight as he eased back. “Baby, can you feel me?”