The touch disturbed him, jolting him from his thoughts and dragging him back to awareness of his body as an immutable part of himself. By the time Jonquil opened his eyes the touch had withdrawn and from the corner of his eye he could see Crowthorne, the club’s proprietor, hurrying over with rapid apologies and hands wrung tight with worry.
Crowthorne fell to insignificance compared to hazel eyes immediately before him: intense, captivating, and far more intimately known than Jonquil would care to admit, they stared steadily from beneath dark eyebrows. A long straight nose led his gaze down to lips he’d dreamt of so often he wondered if even now it was his imagination producing the perfect picture of them curling into a gently wicked smile.
“Duncan?” he asked, half-whispered, half-wishing.
“Jonquil.” His name breathed out on a sigh that bordered a prayer. “God, Jonq, you’re so beautiful. I mean – I knew you were, but not – I never imagined – Christ, I’m making a muck of this!” And Duncan’s face was hidden from view, cradled in his lean hands, and that – in Jonquil’s opinion – would never do for it deprived him of the delight of his friend’s countenance.
Swinging himself from his favoured supine sprawl into a seated position on the chaise that practically bore his name for the number of evenings he spent lounging there naked, basking in the admiration of other men, he peeled Duncan’s fingers from his face and tried to catch his friend’s gaze.
In the periphery of Jonquil’s awareness, Crowthorne continued to bleat apologies: “Terribly sorry sir; Look but don’t touch; I do apologise for the error;”
Jonquil cut him off with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright this time, Crowthorne,” he assured the man whilst keeping his eyes fixed on his friend, willing a return of the boldness which had caused him to reach out and disturb Jonquil’s rest in such a startling way, “this is the one incredible instance when I can waive my usual rule.”
He turned his full attention now to Duncan, who knelt still on the floor beside Jonquil’s chaise. Holding his friend’s hands gently in his own, and keeping his attention on Duncan’s face, he asked in a quiet, neutral, tone of voice, “Would you like to join me in one of the private rooms?”
“Yes – yes, please,” Duncan almost gasped, and Jonquil stood, easing Duncan to his feet with him and then wrapping an arm around his waist so they could hold onto each other as they walked side by side down the hallway to the room where Jonquil had left his clothes.
In case you’ve not already guessed it, the theme for this Kink of the Week post was “nudity”. I’m expecting Jonquil to return in my next story – though possibly under a less intimate form of address – along with one or two other characters we’ve met before. I still need to draft that tale though, so why don’t you head on over to see everyone else’s words (& pictures!) on this week’s theme?