Page 16 of A Lord's Chance
“Yes.” He had been devastated by the loss; not just of his parents but to realise that his uncle was nothing like his kind father or caring mother. “To have your whole world view changed is disconcerting. I understand that as it happened to methen. Not in the same way as your news, but perhaps the feeling is the same?”
Nobbie didn’t answer, not in words. Nobbie kissed him. It was a fierce unforgiving kiss and Lloyd squirmed between Nobbie and the hard unforgiving brick wall as desire replaced confusion. This was something he understood. He wanted Nobbie and Nobbie wanted him. The simplicity of it made his fingers twitch and he threaded them into Nobbie’s hair. Nobbie groaned into his mouth, pressing his hard cock against Lloyd.
“We can’t do this here.” Not where anyone might walk past. Harrington’s ball could still be heard, voices mixed with music into a low buzz floating on the night air.
“No.” Nobbie stepped backwards and glanced around the dim mews. “This way.” He grabbed Lloyd’s hand and pulled him further down the mews and into an empty horse box. The scent of fresh straw kicked up around him as Nobbie pushed him up against the wall again. His spine hit the wall with a thud that shoved all the air out of his lungs. It was almost completely dark in here, heightening all of Lloyd’s other senses. Nobbie gave him no time to adjust, kissing him with the same ferocity. Their kiss tied them together, becoming a wrestle as their hands grabbed at each other. The kiss tasted a little metallic where Lloyd’s teeth had scrubbed against Nobbie’s lip too hard, and when Nobbie reached down between them to squeeze Lloyd’s cock, Lloyd wanted to throw his head backwards and gasp, except the wall was in the way. The whole world could be watching and he wouldn’t know, as everything was focused on the way Nobbie’s fingers plucked at the fall of his trousers trying to gain access. Lloyd added his hands to help, working to undo Nobbie’s trousers and soon—gloriously soon—their cocks were together. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. Breathless together as they wrapped their hands around each other’s cocks and stroked frantically, never once breaking the kiss. Lloyd threw one leg aroundNobbie's thigh, pulling them closer together as his lungs burned and he squirmed and groaned and thrust against Nobbie’s hand. It was desperate and frantic and gloriously fast. Nobbie pulled away from the kiss, sucking in a loud breath in the still air of the stable.
“Nobbie.”
“Lawndry.”
“Call me Lloyd. Please.” He begged to come, to hear Nobbie say his name because this was more than a frantic fucking in a stable block. This was his way of showing he cared for Nobbie and the shock of his news. He wanted to reassure him that everything was going to be fine, that he knew how the whole world could change and there was still hope among the darkness. He was here now, a survivor of his parent’s death, and of Uncle Baldric’s attempts to intimidate him, and still he thrived. Look at him thriving as he thrust into Nobbie’s hand.
Nobbie leaned closer, his lips softly brushing over his ear as he whispered. “Lloyd.”
The intimacy of it sent Lloyd all the way over that glorious edge and he cried out as he came, with Nobbie swallowing the sound with another kiss. Lloyd stroked Nobbie with the same ferocity of his own orgasm and Nobbie came too. The two of them rested against each other, held up by the wall, foreheads together, breathing in sync.
“What now?” Nobbie’s question was too loud in the dark.
“We go home and do this again where I can see you?” Lloyd had his answer about the Hobart, and he wanted to focus on Nobbie now.
“Yes. Take me home. Make me stop thinking.”
He gulped. He would try his best and he could start by cleaning up Nobbie and himself where they’d spilled all over each other’s stomachs. “We are a little messy to go out intothe world but we are in a mews. There’s bound to be a rag somewhere.”
Nobbie laughed. “For a lord, you are sometimes very surprising. I’m not going to clean you up with a horse’s rag. Let me use my cravat.”
“I’m not precious. A rag is fine.”
“And my cravat is here, and I don’t need to go hunting for this mysterious rag of yours.”
“Fine.”
“My lord. Let me care for you.”
Lloyd pushed away the urge to whine and say that was his job, but that wasn’t true. Why would it be? They were both grown men. They could share in the care of each other. What was it his mother always said? Don’t apologise for being who he was, just say thank you.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 12
Nobbie hadn’t left Lloyd’s townhouse for over a week. At some point, he’d need to check his investments and talk to Adam about their next scheme, but none of that mattered yet. He’d spent most of the time in bed with Lloyd, or pottering about the house, talking about life and everything. Nobbie lay on a rug in front of a fiercely stoked fireplace, and glanced over at Lloyd who was sitting beside him on the rug, leaning back against the chaise lounge, reading an auction catalogue and sighing occasionally at the contents. Those little sighs were so lovely.
Oh goodness. He was rather fond of Lloyd. Fondness wasn’t something he’d experienced before, and his heart skipped a beat at the sudden realisation. Did he mind? No, actually, he quite liked this warmth that surrounded him when he was with Lloyd. He liked the way Lloyd was focused and strangely blunt and didn’t seem fussed about the usual things in life. Yes, Lloyd was able to be like that because he was a Lord who didn’t have to worry about money or his future; things that used to fill Nobbie’s cold heart with jealousy. He’d fought hard to have the same things as the toffs in the ton and it was hard to reconcile the way he felt about Lloyd who should’ve been everything Nobbie wanted to compete against and win for himself. Maybe it was the kissing that really made the difference to Nobbie’s heart. Before he’d met Lloyd, sex had been a transaction, and now it was better. Now he cared about Lloyd and wanted to spend more time with him. Especially like this.
“It’s odd to think that we are both orphans.” Lloyd had avoided the topic of Nobbie’s parents for the whole week. Instead, they’d talked about politics—agreeing on most things—and sport and horse racing and investments. They discussed thePeninsula War and the impacts of it and what Lloyd could do in parliament to help injured soldiers and their families.
And of course, they’d spent plenty of time talking about timepieces. Lloyd was obsessed, happily showing Nobbie his collections and projects, and how to pull a watch apart and put it back together. It had been nice relaxing by his side as Lloyd had worked on different clocks and other mechanisms.
“Are we?” Nobbie knew nothing much about Lloyd’s family which suddenly struck him as unfair since Lloyd knew Nobbie’s whole story of being left at the Duke Street Orphanage by a heart-broken mother, forced to give him up by her husband who’d newly returned from the dead.
“My parents died when I was fifteen.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes. Their ship was lost at sea.”
“Do you miss them?”
