The last time - the first time - had been in the city. Biggles still felt the prickle on his spine, the shivering intensity of the all-day chase, and the all-encompassing thrill of the moment when Erich had finally tracked him down outside a small bookshop they both frequented.
This time was at Chedcombe, and Erich was the quarry.
They were up for the weekend, Bertie having invited them and then begged off due to another engagement, offering them the use of the house for the weekend. This left them very nearly alone. (Biggles might almost have suspected this was the plan all along.)
It still felt something like a child's game, and yet all too serious. Deliciously, gloriously so.
It was a lovely day, a soft warm sun glaze lying on the fields and woods. Biggles set out across the parkland with no particular destination in mind, looking everywhere. Hunting in the field had never been his preference or forte.
He had left Erich a few convenient little clues in London. Biggles hoped Erich would think to do the same. And he soon found a mark, a chalked arrow on a fence post.
After that, the game was on.
It took more than half the morning before finally he lay in wait for Erich by a pond on the back side of Chedcombe's game park, and wrestled him to the ground. Erich arched beneath him, heart thrumming like a hunted-down stag, looking up at him with eyes that were wild and alight with a delighted mischief combined with arousal. Biggles kissed him thoroughly until both of them were gasping; then Erich rolled him over on a patch of soft grass.
"It took you nearly an entire day to find me," Biggles murmured, looking up at him. Erich had him lightly pinned by the wrists on the soft, mossy ground, lean body pressing against him. "I only needed a few hours to find you."
Erich kissed along his jaw, his neck, and said, "We were on your home ground." More kisses, and, "Perhaps I wanted you to find me."
"In any event, I believe that I won this match," Biggles murmured, and after a short, thrilling struggle, had Erich beneath him once again, gazing up at him with silvery-blue eyes blown out with need.
There had never been any joy like the joy of matching wits with each other. Nothing had ever made Biggles feel so alive. Now, with both of them at the height of physical arousal, they all but tore off each other's clothes, pausing in between for thrilled kisses. In their last match, Erich had scored the victory and Biggles, after they had all but made love in the back of a taxi, had allowed himself to be pressed down to Erich's narrow bed and ravished from head to toe. Now it was his turn to lavish his affections on Erich at the waterside, with kisses and touches until he finally settled himself on Erich's erect member while Erich grasped Biggles in his hand.
There was nothing Biggles loved more than watching Erich arch his body and go quivering and half-limp as he spent himself, eyes half closing, head arched back. He finished Biggles with a few quick strokes, and Biggles rolled off him and then rolled over to lay his arm over Erich and press kisses to his neck. They held each other for a while, as the sweat dried on their bodies and they began to relax.
"Lunch is most likely ready for us back at the house," Erich said softly, stroking Biggles's hair.
"I've certainly worked up an appetite. But next time," Biggles said, running his fingers up the back of Erich's neck with his face resting against Erich's collarbone. "You shouldn't let me win."
Erich snorted into Biggles's hair. "Did I? We'll just see about that. Anyway ... I think it's your turn next, and by all rights, it should be somewhere I know well."
"Did you have somewhere in mind?"
"I don't think you've been to Monte Carlo lately," Erich said, and Biggles laughed quietly into his neck, picturing them both on the silver-gold, sun-drenched Mediterranean coast, with Erich pursuing him through that beautiful city of cliffs and stairs. He could already feel his heart racing in anticipation.
FILL: Biggles/EvS - Aroused by hunting and/or being hunted by love interest
This time was at Chedcombe, and Erich was the quarry.
They were up for the weekend, Bertie having invited them and then begged off due to another engagement, offering them the use of the house for the weekend. This left them very nearly alone. (Biggles might almost have suspected this was the plan all along.)
It still felt something like a child's game, and yet all too serious. Deliciously, gloriously so.
It was a lovely day, a soft warm sun glaze lying on the fields and woods. Biggles set out across the parkland with no particular destination in mind, looking everywhere. Hunting in the field had never been his preference or forte.
He had left Erich a few convenient little clues in London. Biggles hoped Erich would think to do the same. And he soon found a mark, a chalked arrow on a fence post.
After that, the game was on.
It took more than half the morning before finally he lay in wait for Erich by a pond on the back side of Chedcombe's game park, and wrestled him to the ground. Erich arched beneath him, heart thrumming like a hunted-down stag, looking up at him with eyes that were wild and alight with a delighted mischief combined with arousal. Biggles kissed him thoroughly until both of them were gasping; then Erich rolled him over on a patch of soft grass.
"It took you nearly an entire day to find me," Biggles murmured, looking up at him. Erich had him lightly pinned by the wrists on the soft, mossy ground, lean body pressing against him. "I only needed a few hours to find you."
Erich kissed along his jaw, his neck, and said, "We were on your home ground." More kisses, and, "Perhaps I wanted you to find me."
"In any event, I believe that I won this match," Biggles murmured, and after a short, thrilling struggle, had Erich beneath him once again, gazing up at him with silvery-blue eyes blown out with need.
There had never been any joy like the joy of matching wits with each other. Nothing had ever made Biggles feel so alive. Now, with both of them at the height of physical arousal, they all but tore off each other's clothes, pausing in between for thrilled kisses. In their last match, Erich had scored the victory and Biggles, after they had all but made love in the back of a taxi, had allowed himself to be pressed down to Erich's narrow bed and ravished from head to toe. Now it was his turn to lavish his affections on Erich at the waterside, with kisses and touches until he finally settled himself on Erich's erect member while Erich grasped Biggles in his hand.
There was nothing Biggles loved more than watching Erich arch his body and go quivering and half-limp as he spent himself, eyes half closing, head arched back. He finished Biggles with a few quick strokes, and Biggles rolled off him and then rolled over to lay his arm over Erich and press kisses to his neck. They held each other for a while, as the sweat dried on their bodies and they began to relax.
"Lunch is most likely ready for us back at the house," Erich said softly, stroking Biggles's hair.
"I've certainly worked up an appetite. But next time," Biggles said, running his fingers up the back of Erich's neck with his face resting against Erich's collarbone. "You shouldn't let me win."
Erich snorted into Biggles's hair. "Did I? We'll just see about that. Anyway ... I think it's your turn next, and by all rights, it should be somewhere I know well."
"Did you have somewhere in mind?"
"I don't think you've been to Monte Carlo lately," Erich said, and Biggles laughed quietly into his neck, picturing them both on the silver-gold, sun-drenched Mediterranean coast, with Erich pursuing him through that beautiful city of cliffs and stairs. He could already feel his heart racing in anticipation.