Page 26 of The Last Crimes of Peregrine Hind
These were not the normal circumstances.
“You truly won’t kill me?” Sandy whispered.
“I won’t.”
“And you won’t allow one of your band to kill me?”
“I won’t,” Peregrine repeated firmly. “You are safe with me. With us. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you this sooner—that I didn’t see it sooner. When I think of being apart from you . . . ” Peregrine didn’t finish his sentence.
Instead, he brushed his mouth over Sandy’s with a kiss that felt as vulnerable as it was brief. The highwayman was still trembling, Sandy realized, still shaking with relief and maybe other emotions too raw to name.
Sandy was shaking too. It felt too good to be true, and he didn’t know if it was hope or doubt that made him shiver so.
And then Peregrine’s mouth was back on Sandy’s again, hungrier this time, the relief tasting so much like urgent, clawing need, and Sandy felt the same need rising in his blood. There was so much he didn’t know, so much he didn’t trust and so much he hoped for anyway, but this—this—he knew. He knew flesh, he knew groans and throbs and seed.
He pressed himself tighter to the highwayman, sliding his hands up to Peregrine’s neck as Peregrine kissed him again and again, his hot tongue slashing into Sandy’s mouth with desperate strokes, and then they were stumbling back, back until Sandy was against the wall. Below, their hips met and pressed and rubbed, and Peregrine braced his hands on either side of Sandy’s head so he could push in harder, grind his hips against Sandy’s even more. Their clothed cocks slipped rigid and thick against each other’s, and Peregrine’s kisses were so, so hot, and Sandy couldn’t stand another moment without Peregrine inside him, he simply couldn’t.
He struggled out of the coat and then unbuttoned his breeches, turning as he did.
“Alexander,” Peregrine groaned, and Sandy decided right then and there that he liked when Peregrine called him that. He hardly ever heard Alexander; he’d been Sandy since he was a child. The irrelevant spare, the pet. But Peregrine used his full name like he was a king or an emperor.
A ruler in his own right.
It used to scare him, that possibility, whenever he thought of what might happen if he was still Reginald’s heir when Reginald died and had to take over the Second Kingdom. It still did terrify him, but for the first time in his life, it electrified him a little too. Like maybe he could be a ruler if Peregrine thought he could be.
“Don’t make me wait,” Sandy said breathlessly, bracing his hands next to Peregrine’s on the wall. “Please.”
The highwayman uttered a soft oath, but his hands dropped to his own breeches, and then Alexander heard him spitting into his palm.
“You wanted it like a soldier?” Peregrine asked, the wet, blunt head of his cock entreating entrance to Sandy’s body. “This is much the same.”
Then a thrust which felt like a sword of fire.
Sandy had done this before—a rake didn’t fuck his way through London without the occasional impromptu swive with no oil on hand—so the initial discomfort wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was the man behind him, who wasn’t trying to hammer in and out right away, who added more slickness when it was needed, who was already reaching around to take Sandy’s erection in his calloused palm and giving it rough, satisfying pumps as he let Sandy adjust to him.
Maybe it was the hand pleasuring him, or maybe it was the time Peregrine gave Sandy to relax into the invasion—or maybe it was just that it was Peregrine Hind, and with him, Sandy felt a deeply arousing combination of imperiled and safe.
Whatever it was, he was soon panting and moaning into the wall, rocking his prick into Peregrine’s hand, fucking himself back on the thief. Which had Peregrine rubbing oh so wonderfully against the essential spot inside him. Sandy’s testicles drew up tighter to his body, and astonishingly fast, he felt himself ready to surge in Peregrine’s grip.
“Soldiers,” Sandy gasped, “can’t have been this considerate.”
“Consideration is a rare thing in the tents,” Peregrine admitted.
“Show me.”
“As you wish,” Peregrine grunted, drawing back to give Sandy a series of rough strokes that had his knees threatening to buckle.
The grunting behind him continued, each grunt matched with an arrow of pleasure right through Sandy’s core, stabbing up into his belly, and he watched the big shadow on the wall behind him, all male, all brutal, all hellbent on this raw, primal act.
With Peregrine’s cock hot and stroking, with the sound of the highwayman’s pleased grunts and the crackle of the fire, Sandy’s climax tore through him, tore him right in half. He let out a long cry that was nearly a wail, his organ seizing hard in Peregrine’s fist and then striping the wall in front of him with seed.
All of him must have been clenching and contracting, even the hole Peregrine was fucking, because Peregrine gave an animal noise and followed Sandy over the edge, his hips working to keep himself deep as he emptied himself into the man he had pinned against the wall.
They both panted there for a moment, breathing hard, slumping forward until Sandy’s head was against the roughly plastered wall and Peregrine’s was against the back of Sandy’s neck.
“What do you think of the soldier’s way of doing things?” Peregrine asked, and Sandy just laughed.
“I think I’m ready to enlist tomorrow.”
