Page 12 of A Guard and a Gardener

“Then let’s go this way,” Wyatt chirped happily, tugging at the basket to pull both it and me off the path and through a narrow gap in the birch trees. I had to turn sideways to fit, ducking my head under a low branch so as to not disturb a bird’s nest, but after several feet of uncomfortable squeezing through the brush, we emerged in a clearing. Wild grasses and flowers swished around our boots as he led me further from the path, and I glanced around to find it already hidden from view.

The boy exclaimed excitedly and spun on the spot, gesturing for me to lay out the blanket tucked under my other arm as he worked to flatten the grasses around the area he’d decided to make his. Ours.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, and then dragged my eyes from his face before he realised I wasn’t talking about our surroundings. Wyatt grinned and lazily dropped down onto the blanket, spreading out his arms and stretching until he covered its entire surface.

“I certainly think so.”

He wasn’t looking at the little blue flowers dotting the clearing. Or the idle drift of branches in the breeze. Or the clouds trailing across the azure sky.

He was looking at me.

I cleared my throat and turned away to hide the heat I could feel racing up from beneath the collar of my shirt, busying myself with unpacking the basket of food and wine. I heard Wyatt shift behind me but didn’t dare look back at him until I could get my expression under control, so I fussed with the cloth wrapped around the loaves instead, folding it into a neat, careful square. Wyatt hadn’t been joking: there was far more food here than we’d manage to eat in a whole day, let alone one lunch.

One perfect, idyllic lunch that was just me and him and-

I turned back around, and choked.

Wyatt was still splayed on the blanket, only he’d now rolled over onto his hands and knees with his ass in the air.

And he was completely naked.

“What are you…?” I cleared my throat, hastily averting my gaze to the sky. “What are youdoing?”

“I didn’t want there to be any confusion,” Wyatt said cheerfully, and I couldn’t stop the way my eyes sidled back down of their own accord, meeting his as he peered over his bare shoulder at me. He did that thing with his eyelashes again, making them flutter. “Flirting wasn’t doing it. Strong suggestions weren’t enough.”

“So you thought stripping down and presenting yourself to me was…”

He wiggled his ass expectantly and the rest of my words failed me as I stared at the toned muscles jiggling in my direction.Dios mío.

“Incapable of ambiguity, yes,” he agreed, half laughing as he took in my slack-jawed expression. “Are you going to come over here, Jiron, or…?”

I swallowed.

Reproachful thoughts battered at my mind, sneering out all the self-deprecation I’d subjected myself to a thousand times when daydreaming about Wyatt. But it was easier to ignore when the sight of him drove everything from my head. The lines of his muscles; in his thighs and then his stomach when he flopped over onto his back, grinning up at me. Sunlight snagged on the hair between his legs as entrancingly as it did the braid trailing over one shoulder, and the downy fluff tracing his legs and arms. His cock, half hard and deliciously pink, rested against one thigh, and seemed to twitch as it caught – and held – my gaze.

I unbuckled my belt, taking the weight of my sheathed sword and tossing it aside onto the grass before sinking down onto the blanket beside him. Wyatt cocked his head.

“You’re here,” he murmured, reaching up a delicate hand to trace my jaw. I drowned in green eyes and his wide smile. “Now what are you going to do?”

*

Chapter Eight

Jiron moved slowly, as if frightened of scaring me, and I watched as he reached out a huge, quivering hand towards me.

I wondered what part of my body he’d touch first. My cock? My ass? My chest? It was all laid bare to him, his for the taking, and I held myself still despite feeling breathless with anticipation.

Only to yelp as he lifted me effortlessly at the waist and deposited me into his lap.

“Is that okay?” he asked, his face crinkling in concern. When I nodded fervently – anything this man did was okay – he wrapped those huge arms around me once more.

This was even better than it had been at the tap: Jiron wasn’t just behind, but all around me, muttering sweet words against my temple and petting my hair and stroking my back. All the tension seemed to drain out of him, the stiff posture I’d thought permanent melting away as he tucked me in tighter against his broad chest and began to gently rock us both.

Ohmierda, that was nice. More than nice.

Yet I felt acutely aware of how underdressed I was when I realised my cock was leaking pre-cum onto the front of his shirt.

I winced. The man was lonely and seemingly just wanted company, and I’d gone and acted like a complete whore. It was hugs he craved, not sex.

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