He dug his teeth into his lip for control as he slicked himself. Pushed into Dom without warning or kindness, hearing the muffled cry and gripping his shoulders as if they were wrestling or fighting to the death. Dominic was arched right off the bed with need, and Silas hadn’t even meant to fuck the bugger; he’d meant to keep this going for a lot longer, but he wasn’t made of stone.
Dom’s hands came off the rail then, and Silas had a fraction of a second to think, Hell, before they clamped on his arse, urging him on, because—Christ—that was Dom spending, thrusting jerkily, and Silas hadn’t even touched his prick. Silas gave up the last shreds of control, driving into his blinded, muted Tory, and came himself before Dom’s shudders had ceased.
They lay together, chests heaving, until Dominic made a noise of strong meaning.
“Right. Sorry.” Silas propped himself up and untied first the gag—his neckcloth was dark with saliva now—and then the blindfold. Dominic blinked a couple of times. His face was marked by the cloth, reddened, and his eyes looked drugged. “Was that—”
“You know it was. You know.” Dom’s speech was a little slurred, as though his tongue felt thick.
I did that to you. Me. Silas gave a casual sort of shrug.
“Hell and the devil. What was that you used?”
“Comb.” Silas fished it from under his leg, where it was digging in uncomfortably, and waved it at him.
Dominic flopped back on the bolster. “A comb. A comb and a couple of cravats, and I think you may have turned my bollocks inside out.”
“Aye, well, use what you’ve to hand, I say.”
Dominic smiled faintly. He said, after a moment, “Did you mean that? About, uh, someone else. Do you—is that something you’d like to do?”
“Mebbe. If you wanted it. Would you?”
“It’s got, shall we say, points of interest. As a proposal.”
“Ha.” Silas gave Dominic a jab in the side and settled by him, skin to skin, considering the idea. It wasn’t unfamiliar. Silas had made a third for Will and Jon a few times, and so had Lord Richard’s valet fellow, one of the few others to know Will’s secret. We’re not like to love you, Will had explained once, after a long night’s drinking, and Foxy’s not going to love us.
Silas could ask Jon, if Dom still felt like it later. With Will’s agreement, of course, but Jon was trustworthy and a fine figure of a man, and after years of service, he’d doubtless love the idea of giving it hard to one of the gentry. Silas wouldn’t mind watching that at all.
Because that had been Dom saying what he wanted. Not leaving it to Silas, not silenced by shame. Dominic Frey, Silas’s own peculiar Tory, knowing his pleasure and asking for it.
Dom could give him clothes, and loans, and all the kindness he wanted, but Silas had given him that.
“What are you grinning about?” Dom asked suspiciously.
“Just making a few plans for you, pretty boy.”
Dominic gave a satisfied sigh, slinging a leg over Silas’s thigh. “I am at your disposal.”
Chapter 13
They lay together, talking or companionably quiet. Dominic’s hands hurt like the very devil at first after the death grip he’d had on the rail, but when he made complaint, Silas took one hand between his own rough, powerful ones and massaged it. The sensation of his strong fingers digging in, rubbing over sinew and bone and skin, was extraordinary, a little imprisonment all of its own. Dominic moaned his pleasure.
“Well,” Silas muttered. “That’s another thing gets you going, is it?”
Everything you do. Dominic squirmed in lieu of reply and felt the pressure on his sensitive palm increase.
He hadn’t wanted the blindfold, had had to make himself take it, and the gag had been a genuine shock. That deep, disturbing internal reluctance, that edge of real fear—he wasn’t sure how Silas could give him those when he trusted the man so completely. With his own life, at least.
His skin felt scraped all over. A comb, damn it. He’d had men use floggers on him to less effect. But this was Silas, who knew him to the bone.
Thank the stars he’d been here. Dominic had expected to see Silas in the meeting room, and he didn’t want to recall the terrible fear that had gripped his heart when he looked around and found it empty. The few steps to the bedroom door had felt endless. But Silas had been here, and he was showing no signs of wanting to be anywhere else, and Dominic had started breathing for the first time all day.
Breathing hard, indeed, as Silas’s fingers continued their kneading.
It was close to five o’clock. He needed Silas here all night.