Life in the Land (7 page)

He picked up a Rubik’s cube, missing three squares, and Mike’s old fake ID that originally had been created for a game of private detectives and had miraculously, years later, helped them get their hands on a four pack of lager from a less than fussy local shop. He chuckled to himself at the memory: Mike’s clammy hand shaking as he handed it over when the clerk behind the counter had asked.

Robert put the items on a side table next to the telephone and an African violet; it shuddered happily as he stroked its velvety petals and fed it a few bursts of the energy it needed since it wasn’t anywhere near a window.

Wondering what had grabbed Mike’s attention so fully that he’d left a trail of childhood nostalgia in his wake, he toed off his trainers, kicking them into the corner of the hall, where a pile of shoes had begun to grow of its own accord, and headed into the living room.

The sight that met his eyes was certainly a most welcome one. Mike’s overlarge wireless headphones filtered out whatever he was listening to, but what Robert could tell was that the headphones and the silk gold cape were the only things his boyfriend was wearing as he swayed and gyrated in the middle of the living room. The sofa and armchair had been moved to make way for Mike’s dance floor, and Robert let his appreciative gaze travel up the bare legs, lingering on the occasional flash of buttock when exposed by a particularly impressive swing of the hips.

Robert glanced around the room, briefly wondering if they were lucky enough to have stashed some lube and condoms behind a cushion, but he remembered the last of those condoms had been used during a bet on which team would win a game show on Wednesday night. But determined to surprise Mike, he sneaked closer and grabbed Mike’s hips in a firm squeeze, causing Mike to squeal in a very unmanly way.

“Fucker!” Mike yelled, pulling the headphones off. “You could’ve warned me.”

Robert ignored him, turning Mike around in his arms. “What’s all this, then? Mild-mannered mathematics teacher by day, super stripper with hypnotic hips by night?”

Mike laughed, grabbing the edge of the cape and holding it out. “Don’t you recognize it?”

“Of course I remember it—Sprout Boy!”

Mike waggled his hips. “You’re just jealous you don’t have anything from your Artichoke Avenger costume anymore.”

“Green was never my color,” replied Robert with a laugh. “Well, not for wearing.”

“Then you’ll have to go without.”

“Then you’ll have to console me by letting me share your cape.” He ran his fingers up the side of Mike’s torso, being careful not to tickle Mike so much that he pulled back. “And it’s a little too short for you these days.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mike, and kissed him quickly before darting away. “You didn’t seem to mind a moment ago.” Mike grabbed the edges of the cape before flinging his arms wide and then laughing manically and crossing his arms and covering his chest, which Robert thought was a terrible shame.

Robert sprang forward, grabbed Mike around the waist, and heaved him up over his shoulder.

“Oi, put me down!” Mike let out an undignified squawk as Robert smacked his arse.

“Every hero needs a damsel in distress to rescue.”

Mike wriggled, but his lackluster attempts to escape made Robert laugh louder as they headed out of the living room and toward their bedroom. The bed mimicked the disarray of the rest of the room. The duvet was half hanging off the bed from where Mike had kicked it off and not been bothered to throw it back into place, and pillows lay wedged between the headboard and the mattress. Robert ignored it all; Mike’s natural messiness brought a chaotic element to his life that had been missing before, and he knew he never wanted to be without it again.

Robert pretended to swoop down in order to throw Mike onto the bed, but instead shifted Mike onto his other shoulder and enjoyed a leisurely stroke of his boyfriend’s bottom.

“I swear, Bobby Sawyer, if you don’t put me down right now, I won’t put out.”

Robert dropped Mike onto the bed. “Can’t have that!”

Mike lay sprawled across the dark sheets, his pale skin and blond hair in relief against the deep purple. His legs open and his cock hard, Mike made a glorious sight. Robert pulled his T-shirt off, removed his trousers and boxers, and with one last appreciative glance, climbed onto the bed. His hands roamed across Mike’s soft skin, over his belly, and down his thighs.

“Don’t tease, Bobby,” gasped Mike as Robert deliberately avoided his cock. “Been waiting for you to come home all morning.”

Robert reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a mangled tube of lube and a condom. He fumbled with the cap, which bounced off the bed and rolled out of sight, and he squeezed out a generous dollop of cool gel and spread it over his fingers.

Robert stole kisses as he prepared his lover, his fingers gently working Mike open until Mike’s writhing and insistent, impatient noises told Robert he was ready. He tore open the condom wrapper and rolled the condom over his cock, enjoying the slide of his own hand over his sensitive flesh.

Mike pulled him down, and they shared a sloppy, languid kiss as Robert slid into Mike. No matter how many times they did this, Robert felt the thrill of losing himself in Mike. The heat and passion mixing together as they gasped and panted, their bodies joined in a race to completion. The air was filled with moans and obscenities, and the slap of skin against skin as Mike met each thrust with a cant of his hips. The pace was frantic as they tumbled into their release, Robert shouting out in pleasure as he came, bringing Mike along in the rush of ecstasy.

They untangled themselves, lying side by side. Robert grinned as he caught his breath and his heart rate returned to normal. He cast a glance in Mike’s direction and saw his dopey expression, blissed out and happy.

“You all right?”

“Better than all right,” said Mike, turning over to lay his head on Robert’s chest.

Robert carded his fingers through Mike’s hair. His powers buzzed through him as he lay in the quiet, their heavy breathing the only soundtrack. He’d never felt this at ease with himself away from the family farm, but with Mike, everything was perfect—a true balance that he’d never had before.

Life was good, and it could only get better.

R
EBECCA
C
OHEN
is a Brit abroad. Having swapped the Thames for the Rhine, she has left London behind and now lives with her husband and baby son in Basel, Switzerland. She can often be found with a pen in one hand and a cup of Darjeeling in the other.

Find Rebecca at: https://www.facebook.com/rebecca.cohen.710
or visit her blog at http://rebeccacohenwrites.wordpress.com.

By
R
EBECCA
C
OHEN

NOVELS

Life in the Land

The Actor and the Earl

Duty to the Crown

Servitude

Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Life in the Land ©Copyright Rebecca Cohen, 2013

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

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Ste 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the uthors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, usiness establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Brooke Albrecht

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Cover content is being used for illustrative purposes only
and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is llegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon onviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No art of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To equest permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 5032 Capital Circle SW
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Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-103-3

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

August 2013