Free Muffled Drum by Erastes Page A

first time in his life then, damn him.”
    “You never did get on with him.”
    “Number of times he swore to me that men would pull through and didn’t,” Rudolph growled. “Bastard.”
    “It’s better to give hope,” murmured Mathias.
    “I don’t agree.”
    “I know,” Mathias said, his voice almost inaudible as he turned his face away. “I’ll leave you to it, then. See you—”
    Suddenly, almost like a reflex, like something he’d already done a hundred times before, Rudolph had taken Mathias’s hand, and Mathias hadn’t moved. The man seemed almost to have stopped breathing. He was very carefully not looking at Rudolph, keeping his eyes on the floor, but he hadn’t taken his hand away. Rudolph turned the hand over, traced the calluses with a finger and brought the palm to his mouth and gently kissed it.
    Something like a sough of pain escaped Mathias, and Rudolph looked up in surprise. Mathias’s eyes were closed, and a muscle in his cheek clenched as if he were fighting for control. “ Rudolph ,” he said, and his voice sounded broken.
    It was the voice of a man fighting himself—and the most arousing thing Rudolph had ever heard. He dropped Mathias’s hand, gripped the man’s chin and kissed him, kissed him the way he’d been longing to do for days now. Mathias’s lips opened and pushed back greedily, his tongue surging into Rudolph’s mouth. Where Mathias pressed the advantage, Rudolph fought back, and so as they pushed toward each other, their breathing became deep and heavy. It became a battle between them, each man fighting for every inch of space, attempting to gain the advantage, each giving no quarter. It was hot and violent, and for Rudolph, it felt like he was unleashing every bit of fear and desperation, as if he were kissing out the frustrations of never being able to keep his thoughts straight.
    It felt right, so right. There was fire in Mathias’s kiss, unexpected and delightful. The restraint his friend had shown over the past few days had dropped away. There was no doubt at all of his intention or his desires. Mathias’s hand slid under Rudolph’s nightshirt and between his legs, moving upward to rub at his balls before moving on to grasp his cock.
    God. So…good.
    Heat coursed through Rudolph’s balls, and his cock rose, tenting the linen. Mathias took advantage of the smallest of gaps in Rudolph’s attention and urged him back onto the bed, scrambling up to rest over him and continuing the kiss, only this time their cocks nudged at each other, each touch a torment and a delight. Mathias’s hips rose and fell as he moved to graze his cock against Rudolph’s, the cool touch of the nightshirts somehow heightening and teasing in a way Ernst would never have thought of…he should tell him…
    Ernst.
    “No.” He pushed Mathias off, no easy task, for the man was heavy and their limbs had become entangled. “No, no. I can’t. I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten.” Breathing heavily, he lay on his side for a moment, then rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I should not have. Mathias, you must forget this. I was mad. The memory. How could I forget?” He couldn’t tell Mathias he’d forgotten everything in the blaze of that kiss, that what was left of his brain had melted away for those minutes when their lips and skins touched. And that he’d do it again, wanted to do it again, but for one dark-eyed man who stood between them. “It was unforgivable.”
    It was clear to Rudolph that Mathias’s passion, slow to kindle into life, was not so easily quenched, for he slid across the bed, taking Rudolph in his arms again. “No. Not unforgivable. Don’t stop.” He kissed Rudolph’s neck in a way that made him shudder with renewed want.
    With every ounce of willpower he possessed—and God alone knew he didn’t have much left—he pushed himself to his feet, away from Mathias’s embrace. “I must not,” he muttered. “I am…not free.”
    Mathias’s laugh