“Where did you get that?” Oliver asked, his tone sharp.
Bram slammed the book shut. “A bookshop.”
“That’s not possible,” he said.
Bram shot a glare over his shoulder. “I got it from a secondhand bookshop. Whoever owned it before me obviously didn’t want it.” It was cruel, and Oliver’s face shattered, so Bram ran.
“Bram,” Oliver called. “Don’t run. Please.”
Bram didn’t stop.
14
Follies
Oliver didn’t bring up the book again. He was well aware he’d backed Bram into a corner earlier, and he hated to see the young man so scared. Instead, he apologised before dinner, and to Oliver’s surprise, Bram agreed to walk off their meal with him in the garden.
“I am to leave soon,” Oliver said. “Cecilia improves every day, so my promise to Armando shall soon be fulfilled.”
“I’m glad Cecilia is getting better,” Bram said, adjusting his jacket to keep out the chilly evening breeze.
“But you are not glad I’m leaving?” he asked.
Bram smiled. “Must you always be so bold?”
“If I were to be bold, Bram, I fear you may run harder and faster than you ever have before.” He reached for the man’s elbow. “I’m not sure you’re ready for boldness unfettered.”
Bram stopped walking and turned to face him. “What if I am?”
“You are not sick of my terrible stories?”
“You offer boldness then take it away in the next breath?” Bram smiled gently. “Distracting me with talk of your stories. How unlike you.”
“You profess to know me?” Oliver asked, not quite understanding Bram’s fond tone.
Bram turned and continued walking. “Maybe a little. But if you are to leave soon, there is something I must give you.” At that, the young man broke into a run.
Oliver gave chase. “Where are we going?”
“The folly,” Bram called over his shoulder, putting on a burst of speed towards the end of the lake.
The folly was a two-storey structure of powdery orange stone with a sculpture topped dome. They would find nothing there but complete privacy.
Oliver ran faster, laughing as he caught up with Bram. “Well, how exciting. Is my boldness rubbing off on you?”
“I hope it’s not the only thing,” Bram panted.
Oliver stopped in shock, setting off again when Bram laughed. The younger man came to a stop beside the folly door, leaning against the wall with a wild smile and heaving chest.
Oliver smiled at him. “You have a gift for me?”
Bram nodded, reaching for Oliver’s shirt as he dragged him inside. He pushed him against the wall. “I want to kiss you, Oliver.”
Oliver could only pull him closer, fitting their mouths together, breathing each other’s air. He groaned when Bram squeezed his buttocks, but whenever he tried to press against him, Bram’s body squirmed away.
“I’ve seen what Armando does with Abaddon, Oliver,” Bram whispered against his lips. “I know what you want, and it’s what I want too.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to get on my knees for you… taste you… take you deep inside. Please, Oliver.”
Between one kiss and the next, Bram repeated his plea until Oliver pushed him down by the shoulder. He fumbled as he relieved himself from the confines of his trousers, the chilly air a whisper against his hardness. Bram looked up at him, brown eyes dark with desire, as he opened his mouth and swallowed Oliver’s prick.
“Fuck,” Oliver groaned. “Oh, Bram… please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
Bram licked and sucked and tongued, working Oliver into a frantic state. He buried his fingers in Bram’s soft curls, tugging his head back and forth until Bram was moaning around his prick. He looked down to watch Bram, but it wasn’t Bram’s face he saw, nor Bram’s moans he heard. He slowed down.
Bram pulled off him. “I’m not delicate, Oliver.” His voice came out low and raspy where Oliver had abused his throat. “I’m a man. Take my mouth, and make it rough.”
“B-Bram?”
“Fuck my mouth, Oliver.”
Bram swallowed him down again, and Oliver pumped in and out of his mouth, harsh breaths leaving his lungs. Oh gods, he should’ve known. When had it ever felt like this?
“Bram,” he whispered, coming hard down the man’s throat. “God, Bram.”
