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Albie was bigger than him, stronger, and Percy loved it. Having Albie in control of him was a need Percy didn’t even know he had.
He’d never wanted anything more.
His cock was hard, it felt so good, and he writhed for more. He was desperate for more. More contact, more pressure, more touch.
He needed more.
And then, as if Albie could read his mind, or perhaps he felt the same, he began to rock his hips, rubbing and grinding. And Percy followed his rhythm, in a dance they’d had no lessons for but their bodies seemed to know the moves.
It was passion and desire. Percy’s body ached and pleasure pooled low in his belly, and oh...
Oh, heaven help him, the pleasure was climbing, building, his cock now so hard, the pain was exquisite. Percy spread his legs wider, lifted them higher, and Albie’s cockhead pressed something lower and pleasure exploded inside him.
Percy gripped Albie’s backside and his back arched as his release hit him.
He’d never known a pleasure like it.
Albie shuddered and stiffened, his body jerking as he succumbed to it.
Percy swore he felt Albie’s cock pulsing, and it made him gasp.
He was boneless, panting, and clinging to Albie. He wanted to laugh and weep, and when he shivered, Albie rolled them onto their sides, and he wrapped his arms tight around him.
“Are you... are you cold?”
Percy shook his head, unable to stop the giggle. “Far from it. I think I may catch fire.”
Albie pulled back then so he could look into Percy’s eyes. He pressed his palm to his cheek. “I never imagined this,” he whispered. “Not in my wildest dreams.”
Percy smiled at him, sleepy now. He waited for regret to creep in or the echo of his childhood priest’s sermons on sin...
But it never came.
As he lay there in Albie’s arms, feeling safe and loved, he couldn’t imagine how this was ever wrong.
When nothing in Percy’s life had ever felt so right.
“In my dreams,” Percy murmured, barely able to keep his eyes open, “this is where I belong. Promise me something, Albie.”
Albie pulled the blankets over them, tightened his arms around him, and kissed the side of his head. “Anything.”
“If I’m dreaming,” Percy mumbled, “don’t ever wake me.”
Chapter Eleven
Taking Percy to bed was the most amazing experience of Albie’s life. He’d endured hardships and heartbreak and the bleakest grief. And now he’d experienced the purest joy, exquisite pleasure, and dare he say it—dare he think it, even—he felt love.
He was in love with Percy Collins.
The small but feisty, funny, smart man that had walked into his life in the darkest time as if he were a ray of light.
He’d saved him.
Not just from a fight in the saloon, or with his ability to read McAllister’s letter and his wise reply.
But Percy had saved Albie from himself, Albie had no doubt of that.
His pride would have been his downfall, but Percy had given him reason to pause, a reason to focus.
