After a while, they moved on to another room, which featured the twins. Wren was positioned behind Sparrow on the bed and licking his hole rather earnestly. Wren paused momentarily, moaning when the gentleman Bellamy knew as Mr. Worthington entered him from behind, slowly and judiciously, at least at first.
He could smell Ashwood’s arousal now, and he turned away and swallowed, trying to control his own reaction. He heard the groan in Ashwood’s throat, but he didn’t make eye contact, lest he ravish him right where they stood.
“Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea,” Bellamy whispered.
“You don’t really believe that, you devil.” Ashwood’s hand blindly searched for his, knotting their fingers and applying pressure. It made the butterflies kick up in his stomach—something that happened often in their early days.
Ashwood made the motion to release their hands, but Bellamy hung on, the heat in their skin melding together as he drew him toward the next aperture.
That room was empty, so they made their way to the opposite door, featuring Oscar and Mr. Walters. And what Bellamy saw made him blink repeatedly.
They were lying bare on the bed but not fucking, even though their cocks were hard and slotted together. That was not the surprising part. He’d rubbed pricks many times with men who did not want penetration or who enjoyed drawing the act out.
What struck him in this instance was their evident intimacy—they were kissing like long-lost lovers. Mr. Walters was gently cupping Oscar’s face and whispering to him in between fervent kisses, and Oscar’s eyes were soft and tender.
Bellamy was at a loss for words. How had no one noticed that Oscar was besotted with Mr. Walters? He certainly overcompensated for it with outlandish humor, but still, the obvious had completely escaped him.
Ashwood knew none of Bellamy’s thoughts, and likely to him Mr. Walters’s ministrations were just as titillating as any of the other acts they’d viewed.
“It does feel liberating.” Ashwood sounded more self-possessed, and that was reassuring. “To watch unabashedly, especially when it is…expected. Or shall I say, welcomed?”
Bellamy’s eyes widened. “Given the opportunity, would you freely partake with these gentlemen?”
Ashwood shook his head emphatically. “I’ll admit I enjoy watching…but I only want you.”
“You cannot say such things. What transpired between us the other evening was—”
“I shall wither away without you, Bell,” he said, keeping his gaze intent on the viewing slot, as if his words hadn’t just shook Bellamy’s entire universe.
“You will find someone suitable for you—in due time.” Bellamy’s stomach felt fragile, on the verge of shredding.
“And how does that sit with you?” Ashwood still did not meet his gaze. “The idea of me being with someone else, spending my life with them?”
“I…” Bellamy hesitated, attempting to catch his breath before he pushed out the words. “As long as it makes you happy.”
“Liar,” Ashwood said. “I can feel the tension in your body, smell your arousal whenever we are near. You want me as I want you, but you’re scared to trust me again.”
“I’ve already admitted as much.”
Though Bellamy no longer knew if that was true. Perhaps he didn’t trust himself anymore—or his profound feelings for this man, who had proven himself many times over since he’d first brought him to his rooms to save him. His thoughts and emotions were embroiled in a turbulent storm, and he didn’t know what was real or contrived anymore.
Ashwood growled, tightening their fingers together before dragging him to the nearest empty room. Bellamy didn’t resist, even though he should’ve. His pulse was pounding frantically as Ashwood shut the door behind them, then slid the aperture closed.
He turned to face Bellamy as he braced himself against the door.
“Ash?” he asked when he saw the same blustery storm clouds in his eyes.
Ashwood closed the distance between them and took his mouth in a bruising kiss. Bellamy whimpered against his lips because he would always be responsive to him. His body could not resist this man. His beloved. Bellamy leaned into him as Ashwood’s fingers dug into his waist, his lips skimming across his jaw and along the tender veins in his throat.
He thought about that bite he’d delivered to Ashwood, and impulsively wanted to submit to him. But still he held back.
Instead, he attempted to shut off his brain and take in every sensation as they wrestled with each other’s clothing, which had become an encumbrance in their aroused state. Breeches, stockings, and shirts were flung to the floor, until they stood completely bare before one another.
And seeing Ashwood in this unguarded state—his pupils blown, his lips puffy from kissing—made Bellamy feel flayed open, his emotions right at the surface, and he didn’t even try to disguise his raw affection and desire for the man. He couldn’t if he tried.
“You’re right, I do desire you…so much, it makes my heart ache.”
“Bell…” Ashwood’s kiss was gentle this time, and unnerving. He didn’t think he could handle much more of this tender side. He wanted reckless and unfeeling, something to blot out all this drama between them. As if that were even possible.