Lance jerked his head to the side, causing Ben to miss his lips and pnt a kiss in his hair instead.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Ben asked.

  “Someone just screamed.”

  “Someone’s probably gettin’ it on down below.”

  “You can hear that all the way up here?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on how close they are.”

  “It didn’t sound like…maybe…maybe you’re right.”

  Lance turned away from the sound, met Ben’s eyes. There was the look of longing in them, of poorly suppressed desire. He moved inward, taking charge, pressed soft lips against his and drew his mouth open.

  Hot breath gusted into him, tongue flickering against tongue, rubbing over its ridges as passion burned into him, a mutual exchange.

  As tightness built in his trousers, his lips vibrating, head full of hot air, Lance drew away.

  “Do you want to?”

  He shook his head. “Not…not yet.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, but I think…”

  Lance leaned in, pnted another of those passionate kisses on him, ced slender fingers into loose, chestnut curls and tipped his head back. He bit softly at his lip and dragged it back. Releasing his hold as he drew away, golden eyes fixed on him, his free hand traveled over Ben’s body, down his side, up under his shirt.

  Ben reached out to drag his hand away, but he could not deny the tension pressing against his pants, the building pressure there. He could not deny that he wanted deeper contact, to feel him.

  His hand dropped away, allowing Lance to explore his belly, his chest, to py with his nipples and then trail away down and down, into his pants to palm his ass and squeeze.

  Sensation rippled through his body, climbed out of his legs to settle around his navel, and his hands found purchase beneath Lance’s shirt.

  “Okay.” He whispered against Lance’s lips. “Okay. We can…we should….”

  Lance unbottoned his shirt, and he reached for Lance’s pants, unfastened the buttons there and drew the fly open, then dragged them down just enough to expose his underclothes, blond hair, slender thighs.

  Lance drew the shirt open, dragged the sleeves down, kissed his neck, and sucked.

  “No, no. Don’t do that.”

  “Okay.”

  Sucking reverted to tender kisses.

  “Lady Therien would kill me if I…”

  “It’s okay. I promise.”

  He leaned into those kisses, unbuttoned Lance’s shirt and helped him out of it. Lance’s pants dropped to his ankles of their own accord. He stepped out of them, leaving him naked except for his small clothes—tight, white briefs.

  His rock hard cock pressed against them, a slight curve in the shaft inviting wild fantasies to bubble forth in Ben’s mind’s eye.

  He wanted this. He wanted it bad.

  He seized it, drew closer until his chest was pressed against Lance’s chest, the warmth of their bodies pying off each other, driving away the subtle chill on the air around them.

  Hot, passionate kisses. Lance’s hands roved over his body, found his pants and yanked them down, in the same motion forcing him back against the desk. He pyed out a power fantasy, and Ben indulged him, allowing him to drag his pants off him, to yank down his small clothes, crawl into the space between his legs.

  He tipped his head back and closed his eyes at a renewed tension as Lance gripped the base of his cock and began stroking, looked down to see his member in a pallid hand, its girth rising two inches past the knuckle, the added length disappearing, reemerging, as he reached down. Down. As he dragged the edge of Lance’s waistband back and and under his sack, ran his fingers up the length of a cock nearly the same size as his, thick at the base and tapered, the curve tilted upward, the head sheathed in foreskin slender, somewhat pointed.

  He gripped onto it, worked up and down as Lance worked on him.

  Lance’s tongue ran circles around his nipple, then carved a path across his chest, his stomach. He kissed, and bit at Ben’s fnk, his belly as he made slow, sensual progress down, brushed thick, pubic hair with his chin, ran his wet tongue up the length of Ben’s shaft and then….

  A groan issued from Ben as his lips parted, as his foreskin was pulled back and warmth and wetness climbed inch over inch down the length of his shaft.

  Lance stopped short of the base, breathed out through his nose, traveled back up again. His fingers kneaded beefy testicles heavy with unspent seed as he worked over his tongue slithered back and forth against the head, then the shaft, back again.

  Ben’s eyes rolled back into his head. He pumped faster, his grip firming on Lance’s shaft as the other man worked him with his mouth, growing clumsier as time went on but nonetheless giving him filling him with maddening pleasure.

  He gasped, the muscles in his perineum seizing, cock tensing as fresh, hot cum smmed against the back of Lance’s throat—once, twice, thrice.

  Wet, cloying heat spattered his fingers and his wrist. He looked down to see Lance’s quivering cock in his hand, the head still oozing, thick, white liquid spttered across his hand, his wrist and forearm.

  He leaned forward, slid from the table into Lance’s waiting arms, and held him, his chin on his shoulder, sweat beading his brow and a hollow sensation in his balls like he had not felt in some time.

  “That was good.” He whispered, as they lingered in each other’s embrace, catching their breath. “That was good.”