“But shouldn’t I…” Joe’s speech cut off, yet his eyes kept going, wandering over Percy’s body, all longing, desperate lust.
“Shouldn’t you what?”
“Uh…” Joe’s lips, plump and pink from Percy’s thorough use of them, trembled, just a little. “That.”
The absolute darling. He couldn’t even say the words. He’d turned up at Percy’s house at two o’clock in the morning, cum twice in his mouth (for all intents and purposes), and now herehe was, unable to even name the delicious things he’d just done.
Percy was almost wholly inclined to help him maintain his inability to speak, a delight which he so sorely seemed to be in need of, but he was the sort of man who usually saw things two or three steps ahead.
Say he did what Joe was asking, which they were both inclined to do, and he let Joe go to work on his dick… That was a lot for a virgin priest who’d never even been kissed before. Say it scared him off? Or, say he loved it all, said thanks, but since you won’t be my boyfriend, I’m off to try my new blowjob skills somewhere they’ll be more appreciated…
“Not tonight,” Percy heard himself say, to some surprise.
Joe’s eyes grew wide, then turned straight down. “Okay.” He shuffled awkwardly back into his trousers, his movements sharp with the sting of rejection. “I guess I should go. It’s late?—”
“It’s not that late.”
The most adorable confusion settled over Joe’s face, and Percy wanted to clarify for him exactly what was going on, but he found himself equally confounded.
The sex lesson was over.
Cut short at his own command.
And here he was telling Joe to not leave for reasons other than sex…
What those reasons were, he had no idea, but he needed to say something because Joe was about to make an excuse, Percy was sure of it, and there was no way he’d come back after a ludicrous blunder like that.
Percy shot a quietly panicked look at his soaring stained glass windows. “It’s raining. And you’re all wet. And I’m not tired. And you know, I think it would be rather rude to run out on me without so much as a drink.”
That smile. Christ, what he’d do to get another one.
“If you’re sure?”
“Very. Very sure. I’ll get you something to wear. Have you seen the bedroom? I had it done. And, well, the whole place, obviously, but…” He waffled as he led Joe across the wooden floor, through an ancient stone arch that had once been where the altar sat, there in his converted church.
He stopped at a door, where he flipped open a keypad and typed in a code. The door slid back.
Joe scanned Percy. “You have a passcode for your bedroom?”
Percy’s lower lip popped out in an expression that suggested this wasn’t at all unusual, even if it was. “Can’t be too careful,” was the only explanation he offered.
Stepping through the door, Joe turned back to watch him close it, and took note of a curiously sturdy lock on the inside—curious given it was just Percy living there, and Joe imagined the lock on the front door should have sufficed. But once he got past that small detail and looked around, Joe gave a little gasp.
Percy’s bedroom was green. But the deepest green, the darkest green, like the blackest, sexiest forest Joe had ever seen. The wallpaper held a subtle but luminous gold print of delicate leaves, here and there strung together via the thinnest golden vines. These strands were set to sparkling advantage by gold candle holders, stuck with long orange candles, gold frames around compellingly aged-looking art, a gold gilt bed head, and small golden lamps.
The art that lined the walls was a luscious display of beauty and sex. Caravaggio’sNarcissus,Saint Sebastianby Carlo Saraceni,Satan and His Legions Hurling Defiance Toward the Vault of Heavenby James Barry, a self-portrait of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Waterhouse’sHylas with a Nymph, and hisCirce Invidiosaon another wall, sketches and sketches of bodies, male and female—torsos, arms, wrists, hands, thighs—all of it heated and heavy, in the most intoxicating way.
The lower edges of the towering walls held custom-made bookcases, their shelves crushed tight with books, gorgeous books, hard spines, soft spines, more gold, more green, red, brown, all enticing. And on top of those masterfully crafted book cases, more candles, strange knick knacks, antiques, and a human skull.
And then the bed…
It lay shrouded in deepest green, thickest and loveliest, softest linen, with equally minute golden threads, and a ludicrous array of pillows and cushions, stacked so invitingly, Joe almost collapsed right then and there.
While Joe gawped, Percy was busy pressing a wall, which slid back to reveal his walk-in wardrobe. Joe didn’t follow him in, but the orderly manner of it all shocked him. He knew Percy had money. He’d assumed he had a fair amount. But the detail, the finish, the quality… Joe had a sort of airless realisation that he might not have quite grasped how much before.
Percy selected a crisply folded, too-soft-for-words sweater and track pants, the latter of which Joe couldn’t begin to imagine the endlessly elegant Percy ever wearing. He blurted out, “Does your bedspread always match your wallpaper?”
Percy fell silent, eyeing the decor with a touch of concern. “Is it crass?”
