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Christos paused to admire the lanky servant, whose fine black hair dusted smooth planes of wiry muscle, before crawling across the bed and molding his body along James’. Retaking James’ lips, his tongue coaxed its way between James’ teeth and the Englishman’s teased back. While their mouths sparred, hands glided, stroking and touching, and hips bucked with dueling cocks.

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“You are quite thrilling—attractive as well.”

James pulled away to look up at him. “Chris! You gotta not sound so posh.”

“What do you mean?” Christos’ brows drew together.

James rolled his eyes. “’What do you mean?’” he mimicked Christos’ rounded tones. “You sound like some toff!”

“What is a ‘toff’?” He stroked a lock of hair off James’ brow.

“A toff is an upper class fancy pants.” James nipped at his hand, catching his index finger between sharp teeth, and sucked on its tip.

Christos trailed the spit-slicked finger over James’ chest. “You sounded… posh… when you answered the door.” He circled a hairy nipple, and the little nub pushed against his hand.

James’ hands coasted over his back, leaving cool fire in their wake. “That’s jus’ for appearances!”

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