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With the fire warming the left side of his face, Drury considers the man before him.
“Arthur,” he says. “It has been too long.” His lips turn into a heartfelt smile. There are other men all around them, filling the room with sweat and drink and arousal, which is being let out after hours, days, or weeks of repression; but now Drury’s focus zeros in on Arthur, and Arthur alone.
Arthur gives him a secretive look, dropping onto the sofa beside Drury, causing his drink to spill over the rim of his glass.
“Yes, yes, it has been too long. And Drury, it has been a long day too.”
“A long day of drinking?” Drury quips. He intends to taunt but he knows it will be lost on the now unabashed Arthur.
As expected, Arthur’s expression only lightens at his remark. “Tell me something, then! What have I missed from your world?”
Drury leans back against the sofa, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling of the grand room as he searches for his answer.
“I am married now,” he admits.
“Are you really?” asks Arthur, with a mix of disbelief and dread.
“Yes,” Drury says neutrally. “I hear that you are betrothed as well,” he adds.
Arthur stares down at his drink in his hand, so Drury cannot make out his expression.
“We have an arrangement,” Arthur explains.
“Ah, an arrangement. Which means you will have a bastard before the year is through, I believe,” Drury teases. He knows he is being unfair, but there is something in Arthur’s misery that drives him to say unfair things, something for Drury to take pleasure in.
“I did not come here to speak of…any of that,” Arthur murmurs quietly. He turns his face back to Drury and the frown he had worn changes into a flirtatious turn of his lips.
“No. No, of course not,” Drury responds, eyeing him. And just like that, Arthur moves smoothly over him, leaning down to press their mouths together. Drury goes down willingly, turning his body to rest sideways along the sofa. He holds Arthur over him, allowing him to take his share of touch.
It is bliss for a few, spontaneous minutes, but soon the heat from the fire becomes too much when combined with the wandering hands on Drury’s body. He makes to pull apart from Arthur, but drags his mouth sensually along his lips first.
“Do not stop,” Arthur says stubbornly, forcing their lips together again before Drury can take a full breath of air.
Drury lets him continue the kiss, if only because it has been so long since they have been together. Arthur grinds down on him. Drury lifts an arm over his head and grasps at the armrest, trying to stay collected, unflustered. His cock throbs, and surely he is beginning to soak through his pants. He hisses as Arthur bites his lip and sucks it between his own.
Only once Drury feels his skin crawling with desire and need does he push Arthur away with a firm hand on his chest, but even then, he only holds him off by an inch.
“Let us go home,” Drury tells him.
Arthur looks as if he is about to argue, perhaps hold Drury down in place and insist they remain here all night, but then he nods his head agreeably. “Yes, take me home,” he smiles playfully.
It is Drury’s third home, officially speaking. It is meant for discreet nights such as this, but the important thing is that it is not far away, and they can walk there without speaking to anyone.
Arthur remains next to Drury as they walk wordlessly through the quiet streets. They bump against each other in search of contact, and they do not see anyone else on their way, thankfully. Even if they did, Drury is reassured to think that every couple that is out at this time of night wants to be as invisible as the next.
When they arrive at Drury’s small place, they are quick to reach for the bed, falling together. Drury shoves Arthur backwards, settling between his legs and staring down at him sprawled out beneath him.
“I have missed this.” Arthur hums pleasantly and smirks.
Drury grins back. He has missed it, too. He lifts a hand to Arthur’s mouth, forcing his fore and middle fingers between his lips. He watches Arthur’s eyes flutter closed, then Drury begins to thrust his fingers in and out of his mouth, reaching to graze his fingertips against the back of Arthur’s throat, making him choke.
Arthur clutches Drury’s wrist with a tight grip, attempting to remove his hand, but Drury remains firm, his cock throbbing in his trousers as Arthur struggles.
“You are supposed to suck,” Drury scolds mockingly. But before Arthur can correct himself, Drury clutches at Arthur’s tongue instead, feeling the muscle writhe between his fingers as he squeezes.
Arthur’s struggling increases. His eyes flick open, brows furrowing at Drury before his eyes roll back instead. His mouth fills with saliva as he continues to choke.
“Breathe through your nose, Arthur,” Drury instructs, rolling his own eyes in disapproval.
Arthur follows the order. He inhales and exhales deeply through his nose, starting to relax as he accommodates Drury's fingers. When Drury eases his grip on Arthur’s tongue, which has become too wet and slippery for him to hold onto anymore, Arthur laps his tongue against his fingers instead. His grip on Drury’s wrist becomes tender.
“Better,” Drury says, revelling in Arthur’s increasingly desperate licking. Arthur lifts his head off the pillow, trying to take more of Drury, or to get closer to him. Drury lets him, pulling Arthur upright and holding the back of his neck as he sucks his fingers.
After a minute, Arthur pulls his mouth off Drury’s fingers, saliva now dripping over them. Arthur meets Drury’s gaze and then kisses him briefly before lying back on the bed. He bends his legs at the knee on either side of Drury.
”Get to work,” Arthur tells him, with performative calmness, considering he then starts to palm his crotch through his trousers, opening his mouth in a silent moan.
Drury would scold him for being so forward if only he were not so eager to fuck him. He shuffles backwards on the bed, allowing himself room to unlatch Arthur’s suspenders and pull his trousers down his thighs and off his legs, followed by his pants. Arthur lifts his hand from his cock, and it twitches in the air, leaking. Drury leans forward and kisses Arthur’s hipbone. Arthur’s hips ride upwards, but Drury pulls back before Arthur can get any pleasure from brushing up against him.
Arthur gives him a displeased look, but then indicates Drury’s shirt. “Take it off.”
If Drury had known Arthur had gotten bossier since becoming head of his house and since returning from London, he might have second-guessed bringing him home, but it did not matter now. Drury obediently unbuttons his shirt, taking it slow and wondering if the effect will be a more desperate and restless Arthur, begging for him to fuck him already.
Arthur watches him with a sharp gaze despite the alcohol that is surely still in his system. His bottom lip is bitten between his teeth, one corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.
As Drury is still completing his task, Arthur leans forward on one elbow, using his free hand to drag fingers down Drury’s chest. Drury closes his eyes and bites his lip as Arthur tweaks his nipples, but he continues to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders and arms when he is finished. Arthur drops his hand from Drury’s body, and when Drury opens his eyes again, he sees Arthur has his hand wrapped around his cock, running his palm up and down its length, pressing his thumb against his slit as liquid pulses out of it.
Drury grins, and he lowers himself over Arthur, taking his jaw in a rough hold. Arthur grimaces, then melts into the kiss Drury gives him as he presses Arthur deeper into the mattress.
“This is where you belong,” Drury tells him against his lips. “Not in an office behind a desk,” he murmurs, rubbing his damp fingers against Arthur’s rim. “Not in that factory of yours, not in Parliament. Just here, beneath me,” Drury finishes, starting to push a finger inside him.
Arthur grunts and quietly laughs, grasping fistfuls of the sheets they lie on. “You do not own me,” he says, lifting his hips to attempt to fuck himself on Drury’s finger.
Drury groans, then bites Arthur’s lips. “I do own a piece of you,” he says. “And tonight I will have all of you.” He adds a second finger, beginning to move them both inside Arthur, who moans into his mouth.
“Drury,” he utters, riding his hips up and succeeding more to fuck himself, now that he is open on Drury’s fingers.
“Oh, I know,” Drury whispers, leaning back to get a full view of Arthur, whose buttoned shirt has ridden up his chest. Drury thrusts his fingers in and out of him, perfectly synchronised with Arthur’s own determined movements. “You are quite the whore, Arthur.”
“No,” Arthur responds, panting. “No.”
Drury laughs at him, decidedly holding his hips down with a firm hand so he cannot move. He continues to finger him with his other hand, and Arthur moans as Drury nudges the sensitive spot inside him. Drury takes in the blush that spreads across Arthur’s face, his neck, and what is revealed of his chest under his shirt. “You deny the accusations?”
“Yes,” Arthur gasps. Then, as Drury starts to fuck him harder with his fingers: “Please.”
“What a pathetic—begging—contradiction you are.”
Arthur rolls his eyes and scoffs. He grabs the back of Drury’s neck and pulls Drury downwards with startling strength. He presses his lips to Drury’s ear. “Fuck me,” he drawls.
Drury is instantly overcome by something primal. He thrusts his fingers more harshly into Arthur, his hole fluttering and clenching around him.
Arthur lets out an amused breath, his cock twitching against his abdomen. Drury lets his eyes glance over his body, and Arthur goads him with a firm: “Now.”
“Alright,” Drury murmurs. He slowly removes his fingers from Arthur and concentrates on taking his own cock out. When he takes himself in hand, liquid spurts out of his tip instantly, and a quiet moan tumbles out of his mouth at the feeling. He squeezes himself, trying to get his brain to function as it should. Then he guides himself, pushing into Arthur. He is unable to look Arthur in the eye as he does so, part of him reminding him of the sin it is he is committing.
None the wiser to Drury’s moment of turmoil, Arthur throws his head back against the pillows, sighing in relief. His hands come up to Drury’s shoulders, pulling him down to line Drury’s body against his own. “Move.”
“So fucking needy,” Drury criticises him, but he does move. He thrusts hard into Arthur, not giving him the chance to fully accommodate him.
Arthur groans loudly, pulling his knees up beside his chest. “Yes, like that,” he murmurs dizzily.
Drury laughs, smothering him by pressing their mouths together. He gives Arthur an open-mouthed kiss, making sure he hears every small noise Arthur makes as he penetrates him. “That is what you wanted, hm?” asks Drury. “For me to fill you up? I told you this was your place.”
“Yes,” Arthur agrees, rolling his eyes—seemingly from both irritation and arousal.
For leverage, Drury reaches forward, placing his hand over Arthur's collarbones, feeling them protrude against his calloused palm. Then he begins to squeeze his hand around Arthur's neck, gently at first, so Arthur grins at him, his long and dark eyelashes fluttering with pleasure. Then Drury increases the pressure. Arthur shudders intensely, horrific choked noises coming from his mouth as his hands clamp on Drury’s arm.
“Shh,” Drury soothes him, easing his hold again, and brushing his thumb against Arthur’s reddened cheek. “You are perfectly safe,” he says, thrusting slowly into Arthur.
Arthur nods agreeably, still panting, and relaxes his body, placing his hands on the skin stretching over Drury’s ribs. Drury has been with Arthur before, which makes it easier. It reassures Drury that Arthur trusts him; otherwise, Arthur would not have gone home with Drury in the first place. Arthur knew what he was walking into and he came regardless of the risks.
Now, Drury tightens his grip on Arthur’s throat again. This time, Arthur does not become frantic, but melts into it instead, furrowing his brows slightly to stare up at Drury, mouth agape, and water in his eyes.
Drury gnaws on his own lip, keeping his hand firmly around Arthur’s neck, watching, fascinated, as Arthur drops a hand between their bodies to stroke his cock, liquid smearing across his front.
“Are we going—to be done so quickly?” asks Drury, grunting as he utters the words. He is barely holding on, his cock pulsating desperately as it drags against the tight inside of Arthur’s hole. He lets go of Arthur’s throat because he is not sure he can continue to trust himself with that. He places his hands on either side of Arthur’s head instead.
Arthur grunts, breathing heavily now that his airways are clear. With a tight grip on Drury’s hair, he drags Drury’s face to his neck. Drury laughs against Arthur’s skin, beginning to kiss it, but then Arthur gives his hair a sharp yank. “Lower. No one can see.”
Drury sighs at not getting what he wants. “Yes, Sir,” he breathes, making Arthur laugh. Drury moves lower, sucking a mark just beneath Arthur’s collarbone instead. He barely manages to remain consistent as he fucks Arthur at the same time, but Arthur does not seem to notice. He merely continues to moan, pulling at Drury’s hair hard enough that it hurts. And that is enough for Drury; to be laying marks on Arthur, to have his hair pulled in the heat of this moment; Arthur squeezing around him and leaking on their stomachs as an added benefit.
“I’m close,” Arthur pants.
Drury smiles into his neck, then slowly lifts his head to look down at him. “Let go,” he urges.
Arthur’s eyes close, his bottom lip between his teeth. His legs shake around Drury as his arm works hard to pump his cock to relief. A moment later, Arthur orgasms messily, covering his front. His cock continues to pulse out sperm as Drury keeps fucking him. Arthur clenches intentionally around him, and Drury moans, bending forward to bite Arthur’s shoulder through the shirt he wears.
Drury mourns the loss of Arthur pressing tightly around him as he pulls out to orgasm, spilling across Arthur’s front. “There you go,” Drury says, panting, his head spinning as he holds himself above Arthur, trying to pull himself together.
Arthur scoffs with a smile. “Thank you,” he says, maintaining eye contact with Drury as he lifts a finger to drag it through their combined mess on his stomach, bringing the spoiled finger to his lips, sucking it in his mouth.
Drury shakes his head, trying to ward off another wave of arousal at the sight. He gets off the bed with shaky limbs, tucking his softening cock into his pants. He finds his shirt on the floor, bringing it back to Arthur. Arthur tries to take it, but Drury snatches it back, wiping down Arthur’s front himself. For a moment, it seems as though Arthur will fight him for it, but then he settles back against the mattress instead, eyeing Drury as he cleans him.
“Why have I not seen you in so long?” asks Arthur. “I returned to Dublin three years ago, and I have seen you no more than twice before tonight.”
“I do not know,” Drury says. “Perhaps because you always go to that slum by the docks, and I avoid it.”
“You did not always avoid it.”
Instead of responding immediately, Drury tosses aside his filthy shirt and pulls Arthur’s shirt down his front and into place. Drury leans forward and kisses him once before pulling back to sit upright.
“It has too much of a reputation,” Drury reminds Arthur pointedly. “It would not do me any good to be seen there. Or to be seen going to and from there, for that matter. You should take note, perhaps, Arthur? I cannot stand to hear any more Arthur Guinness gossip. As much as I am fond of you, I have heard quite enough.”
Arthur rolls his eyes, sitting up slowly. Drury expects more kissing, but Arthur moves his legs to his side and grabs his pants and trousers from the floor, starting to pull them back on.
Drury glares at the side of his face. “You would leave so soon?”
“It is fucking cold in here,” Arthur snaps.
“What?” scoffs Drury. Yes, perhaps it is cold, he will admit. It is not as if he had time to light a fire since he came in. “Did I not manage to warm you up?” he asks, finding himself offended. He, for one, has sweat clinging to his skin in seemingly all places.
“Not for long,” Arthur shrugs.
Drury sighs, sitting up. “Do not leave yet.” When the demand does not seem to have the intended effect—Arthur has stood on unsteady legs to do up his trousers—Drury prompts him. “I have cigars."
Drury sees the corner of Arthur’s mouth twitch as he tries to smother his amusement and his temptation. Instead of answering, Arthur drops down onto the bed. He keeps his back to Drury, his legs over the side of the bed, but it does not seem like he is going to leave with such urgency now.
“Good,” Drury observes. He leans back to the far side of the bed and pulls open the bedside drawer, pulling out a box of cigars and another box of matches.
Arthur still does not face him, so Drury lights up a cigar and then reaches forward to pass it over Arthur’s shoulder, pressing a brief kiss to his neck before retracting and sitting on the bed behind Arthur.
For a minute, Drury watches every small movement Arthur makes as he smokes intensely. Drury ought to take a cigar for himself, to have something to do so that he can at least pretend he is not staring at the man on his bed. At this time of night, though, Drury cannot be bothered to try hiding who he is.
“Your brother has come home from his travels?” asks Arthur, suddenly. He has not turned around, but his neck has twisted slightly to Drury's attention
“Yes,” Drury answers. His response sounds more like a question than he had intended, but he has been caught off guard.
“Is he well?”
Drury stares silently at the back of Arthur’s head until Arthur grows impatient and turns to look at him, eyebrows raised with bubbling aggression.
“What?” snaps Arthur.
“Are you really asking me about my brother?”
“I am making conversation!” Arthur replies indignantly, wisps of smoke partially blocking Drury’s view of his face. “How is he?” he asks again.
“Come lie with me, and I will tell you.”
Arthur glares at Drury, huffing loudly. “Well, my brothers are perfectly well,” he says mockingly. “Thank you for asking. It is very kind of you.”
Drury bristles. “Come here.”
Arthur makes a great show of rolling his eyes, but he crawls back onto the bed nonetheless, his cigar held carefully between his fingers. Drury raises a pillow against the headboard and lies back on it, opening his arms to Arthur, who rests against him.
“Arden is well,” Drury says quietly. “Although he has forgotten the expectations there are of him.”
“Meaning?” asks Arthur.
“Meaning he has no intention of getting married," Drury mutters, irritated. "He brought a man with him on his return. A Russian man, if you can believe it."
Arthur tilts his head back to meet Drury’s gaze. “He has been busy, then.” A solemn smile breaks out on his face. “You are the head of your family. Will you force him to marry?”
Drury considers it. When he has argued with Arden on the subject, they go around in circles. Drury cannot think of a good reason why Arden should marry—besides the routine of it, the fact that it is the logical thing for him to do. Men, especially of their status, are supposed to marry women, have children with them, extend the family name and assert more power.
However, now that Drury himself is married—and when their other brother, Soren, is also married—it seems less dire that Arden should be married as well. In addition, now that Arden has a fixed partner, at least his behaviour is contained.
“If Arden manages to keep his inclinations more secret than you have, then I do not see why I should,” Drury says finally.
At that unfair comment, Arthur frowns, dipping his chin down to his chest in a pensive action.
Drury rolls his eyes, out of Arthur's sight. “Arthur,” he says, somewhat sternly. “You are to be married, and you are here, and you are having a good night, are you not? What else matters?”
“Nothing,” comes the quiet and bitter response.
His solemnity makes Drury smile to himself. He has enjoyed himself in Arthur’s company, and the thought of them parting and not speaking for some years again makes the cold air in the room finally set into his body. “Let us be friends, Arthur,” he suggests.
“I have no need for friends,” Arthur scoffs, trying to sound proud and above it, but the notion falls flat.
“We all do,” Drury argues. Then he hesitates slightly, resting a hand on Arthur’s head and threading his fingers through his dark hair. “Or perhaps your wife-to-be, whom you do not sleep with, is enough?” he questions, amused.
Arthur grins slyly. “We do get along rather well.”
“Good,” Drury says with sincerity. “How many people like us can say that?”
“Not many,” Arthur concedes. “What of you and your wife?”
The corner of Drury’s mouth twitches, entertained at the mention of his lover. Drury leans his head forward, mouth pressed into Arthur’s hair. “Just what exactly do you want to know?” he whispers seductively. He knows Arthur has no interest in women; however, Drury would be just as content to see Arthur uncomfortable as he would be to see Arthur aroused.
“What?” Arthur questions sharply at Drury's tone. He tries to sit up and pull away, probably to look Drury in the face, but Drury does not want him to move.
Instead, he holds Arthur tighter, clutching his head to his chest and taking a tight grip on his hair. “Stop.”
Arthur continues to wrestle with him, but he quickly comes to accept his position when Drury’s fist continues to strain at his hair. “It…that,” he pants, catching his breath. “That works for you then, does it?” he asks, more curious now than intent on getting away from Drury.
“Yes,” Drury answers plainly, pulling Arthur back against him. Arthur comes willingly. Although he sits more upright now, he is still resting against Drury, throwing a hand back to linger around the back of Drury’s neck. He seems to get careless with the cigar in his other hand for a moment, and Drury’s breath catches in his throat. “Careful with that,” he says.
”You do not even have an ashtray, Drury,” Arthur murmurs, continuing to smoke. Drury bites the inside of his mouth and stays quiet. “I suppose it is all the same to you,” Arthur continues, half wistful, half put out. Perhaps a little disturbed. “As long as you have somewhere to put your cock.”
“That is part of it,” Drury agrees quietly.
“Well,” Arthur mutters. “If she satisfies you so, then why were you out tonight?”
"Fun does not begin and end with the marriage bed, you know—I’m sure you know that.”
“I have not missed you,” Arthur says, attempting to change the topic.
“That is not what you said earlier when I had you under me.”
“I may have missed you in bed, but I did not miss you.”
Drury laughs. “I will still send for you, so that you can enjoy some time with my lover and I, if you wish.”
“Do not dare send for me,” Arthur scowls.
“We would have such fun. You, me, and my lover.”
“My God, Drury! You are deranged.”
“I remember you liking that about me. Some seven years ago, you did.”
Arthur sits up, shaking his head firmly. “No, no. Drury, you—you scold me for my reckless behaviour, but you are far worse and you will drag me down with you.”
“You are being harsh, Arthur,” Drury says, coolly. He tries to stay calm, but Arthur’s words have surprised him.
“No, I am not being nearly harsh enough. If you drag me down, you will drag down my family too, and our reputation is far too—”
“Perilous,” Drury snaps. “I know. Everybody in this city knows.”
Instead of indulging Drury, Arthur suddenly rises from the bed, which is disorienting because Drury can still feel Arthur’s body heat against his skin, as if they remained pressed together as one. “I must go,” Arthur says sternly. He takes one last drag from the cigar, then dumps it into a used whiskey glass on the small table nearby.
Drury does not want him to leave, but he is prepared to play the long game, to get Arthur where he wants him. So, instead of arguing, Drury just says, “I will be in touch.” He wears a sly smile that makes Arthur sneer back in return.