Chapter 22: The Linen Room, Again

Cavan kicked the linen room door shut behind them and slid the bolt.

Fenny slid down off his shoulder and landed on a stack of folded sheets, laughing.

The stole slipped off his arm.

"You carried me out of a feast."

"You asked me to."

"I asked for a linen room."

"You have one."

Cavan stood over him in the dark, breathing hard, with pine smoke thick in the little room.

The shelves went up on three sides, with clean white towels on them, and the air smelled of starch and lavender.

"Last time," Fenny said, looking up, "I was the one pushing you into the shelves."

"Last time you had a knot and no idea what it meant."

"And now?"

"Now you're my Luna."

He knelt.

The sheets gave under his weight.

He took the hem of Fenny's grey coat and drew it up, and the trousers with it, until Fenny lay half bare on the linen with his legs open.

Slick had already darkened the inside of his thighs.

"You've been like this the whole toast," Cavan said.

"Since the second course."

"You said nothing."

"I enjoyed watching you try to listen."

Cavan bent his head and put his mouth on the inside of Fenny's knee.

He kissed the soft skin there, then the thigh, then the wet crease at the top, where the scent was strongest and sweetest.

Fenny shivered all over.

"Cavan."

"Quiet. Hold the shelf."

Fenny reached up and wrapped both hands around the lower rail.

Cavan put his hands under his hips and tipped them, and his tongue found the rim of Fenny's hole.

Fenny cried out.

It was a new thing, and it caught them both off guard.

He licked slowly at first, a long flat stroke, then pointed and quick, tasting the slick that ran from him.

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