Chapter 3: Rising Action
As the night wore on, the shadows cast by the lamplight grew restless, writhing along the piles of moth-eaten books and newspapers that surrounded the two old men who danced to each new record Shadwell played. Their hands caressed one another with newfound hunger.
Shadwell, the closeted unassuming locksmith thief, had a weathered face that betrayed a few hints of the cocksure young man he had once been. Though there were whispers of the culmination of his private thoughts, his eyes were full of passion.
And this enchanting stranger before him, Job, had likely sensed this raging sea of yearning within him. Shadwell warmly met his gaze and opened his mouth to speak when Job raised a finger to his lips and signaled him to lean in close.
He whispered into Shadwell's ear, "Do you crave satisfaction, Eldridge? After all these years?" He gently tugged on the lobe of Shadwell's ear, and a shiver ran down his spine.
"Yes, Job, what is it that you-"
He was abruptly cut off by the sensation of rough, weathered hands grabbing his waist and pulling him close, so close their bodies twined together, chest to chest. Job's graying eyes smoldered, his age crinkles deepening with every pulse of emotion, as he breathlessly looked Shadwell up and down like a sumptuous meal after a long fast.
"You smell of old parchment and damp earth.
It's..." Job's voice trailed off. "Intoxicating."
Before Shadwell could respond, he felt a moist, teasing tongue trace the length of his neck, leaving a chained trail of dizzying sensations, coupled with a tantalizing bite of his earlobe. Eyes fluttering, he threw his head back and groaned at the pleasurable assault.
Job's whispers weaved like a lover's spell, leaving no question as to his intentions.
He boldly unbuttoned Shadwell's waistcoat, and as he did so, let out a sweet chuckle.
"Your body is certainly not what I expected from the grisly tales of a Witchfinder. You have a softness that's quite captivating," he murmured with satisfaction, grazing the hair-speckled chest beneath with a single fingertip.
Shadwell felt an embarrassed tinge rush to his cheeks, yet his body responded to the compliment.
Thrilling tingles accompanied Job's gentle tracing of his torso, which trembled slightly under each tender touch.
"You desirable rascal," Shadwell muttered against Job's temple, acts of pleasure punctuating his words. "You have no notion of where this may lead."
Undeterred and intent, Job brought his hand to Shadwell's pulsing erection, which had grown rigid and delightfully heavy with need.
He slowly wrapped his fingers around the shaft, giving it a tight squeeze and prompting a muffled gasp.
"Ah, what a virile beast you are." Job's approval was teasingly accompanied by a provocative dance of his skilled hand, prompting Shadwell to fruitlessly thrust towards his embrace.
Shadwell groaned aloud and reached towards Job, grappling to unfasten his own clothes.
"Christ Almighty, man. Enough teasing!"
Job obliged, revealing the slender, wiry, and undoubtedly experienced physique of the enigmatic time-traveler.
"Like what you see?" he taunted, and grabbed Shadwell firmly by the wrist, bringing his fingers to trace a path across the taught muscles of his belly.
They locked eyes, Job's sternum heaving and constricting, granting Shadwell a direct view into the older man's stark excitement.
Job gently pulled Shadwell closer, allowing his bulging and stiff cock to collide with Shadwell's. Pleasure radiated from each movement, every stroke a testament to their passion.
Shadwell allowed his restraint to melt away and gave in to the desire to seize Job's wild white hair and push their bodies closer still. Lips curled into a snarl, Shadwell met Airport Job with a demanding kiss. Job's mouth proved eager, tasting salt, the remnants of tea, and a sweetness that lingered on his tongue.
As if famished, he seized the moment to let his hands wander.
He cupped the back of Shadwell's neck and traced down, settling to firmly clutch the firm ass beneath his hands. Moans echoed against one another in the dim room, livened further by the storm that raged on outside.
Their lovemaking now spiraled wildly—a storm within the storm. Job's experienced hands drew a whimper of pure surrender from Shadwell. "Shall we take this to your chamber?"