Moon Spell

That settled, he didn’t wait, just stepped into Ashwood, and their mouths met as if made to fit together. They stood kissing for a while, and then he urged Ashwood backward against a stack of boxes for more leverage. Bellamy felt dominant over him like this, just the two of them in the throes of passion. He might’ve been uncertain in other aspects of his life, but not in that moment. He wanted to overpower Ashwood, but only in a way that made Ashwood feel good. Bellamy growled a little, not knowing where these feelings were coming from but glad to have the space to entertain them.

“I like that. When you express yourself.” Ashwood panted against his lips. “Someday, we might really be alone, and then you can show me everything you’re feeling.”

“Yes, I want that. And you can show me everything you already know.”

Ashwood had confessed that he’d explored with another boy before, during his last days at the orphanage, and that left Bellamy feeling unsettled.

As if reading his thoughts, Ashwood said, “But everything will feel new with you because it’s us. There’s no one else I want more.”

His confidence renewed, Bellamy thrust their bodies together, his hand burrowing through Ashwood’s hair, holding him as close as possible as their tongues tangled and they moaned into each other’s mouths.

It felt…good. And right—that same rightness that was always there with Ashwood. Even though they were in a forbidden place, if he closed his eyes, he could picture them somewhere else, perhaps in an empty field or the shelter of a forest, and that would have to do. Perhaps they could even live together someday—although they would need employment and a credible reason in society for why they were together. Or maybe they could escape it all and live like nomads, off meager wages, traveling the world. He didn’t care as long as they were together.

“I love kissing you,” Ashwood said, attempting to draw their bodies even closer. Their mouths met, and their hands reached for each other, groping from shoulders to buttocks.

As Bellamy pushed up against him, their bodies melding together, he felt a stirring deep inside him, stronger than on other nights when they couldn’t be this close.

“Ah, fucken hell,” Ashwood said. “I’m stiff just from your hands and your smell.”

Bellamy liked that. Ashwood always smelled good to him too. Earthy, and something else he couldn’t pinpoint. Something that was just him.

“I need you, Bell.” Ashwood reached for his hand and placed it against the front of his breeches, and Bellamy felt his hardness. “Touch me, please, or I shall incinerate from the inside.”

Bellamy groaned and thrust his hips toward him. “I need you too, Ash.”

Soon enough, their hands were hurriedly lifting shirts and unbuttoning plackets, and finally, finally, they were touching each other’s pricks. Something he’d never imagined he’d have the opportunity to do with another lad. With Ashwood.

If only Ashwood could’ve guessed how stiff he’d made Bellamy some nights simply from furtive glances. Sometimes their gazes would lock, and they would stare into each other’s eyes. Other times they’d hold hands, and Bellamy would grow hard from Ashwood’s thumb slowly tracing the inside of his palm. And now here they were, fully feeling each other’s bodies. How much he ached to be completely bare and unrushed someday.

Ashwood’s length was hot and smooth in his palm, and his bushy hair tickled his knuckles as they clumsily fumbled around each other, Bellamy trying in vain to stroke with what little experience he had.

“You mean everything to me, Bell. We’re destined to be together.”

“And you to me, Ash.” He groaned. “I’ve never felt anything like this before, like I might catch on fire.”

Ashwood was his first. And only, if he had anything to say about it.

They stroked each other’s pricks until they both spent, panting into each other’s mouths. And then he slumped against Ashwood, hoping they were still safe and undetected, but in that moment, not finding it in himself to care.

They tucked themselves in and used a neckcloth to clean themselves up, which Bellamy felt slightly guilty about, but it was better than someone finding their mess.

Ashwood kissed his mouth, pulled him into an embrace, and murmured, “Will you be my betrothed?”

“Yes.” Bellamy shivered. “But…can men be betrothed to one another?”

Ashwood pecked his cheek. “We can be whatever we choose.”

Bellamy drew back. “Even though society does not dictate it to be so?”

“We are like scum on the bottom of a stream to society folk,” Ashwood said. “It doesn’t matter. We can make our own rules.”

Ashwood pulled him into a kiss, and they stood that way, their mouths connected, for a long time. Until they heard a noise from outside that made them stiffen, but the threat soon passed.

Bellamy reluctantly dragged himself away. “We should go.”

They slipped back outside carefully and returned to their corners across from each other, Ashwood allowing Bellamy to proceed first. They couldn’t stop smiling at each other the rest of the day as they collected coins from strangers.