#jexxer

It was, as all of Julius's presents to Malcolm were, discreet. Wolf's-head cufflinks, nothing large or gaudy or likely to trigger Malcolm's class rage or invite questions. Cufflinks for moments when Malcolm dressed for the occasion. He would decline to mention that he'd commissioned them, which knowledge would make Malcolm self-conscious about the cost. It was no matter. Malcolm was worth quite a bit more.

Malcolm looked up at him from the little velvet box in his hand and curled his lip. "Your wolf, eh?"

"My wolf."

And Malcolm was leaning in and giving Julius a kiss and that was gratifying because it was entirely open and sincere and lingering. The box was tucked into his jacket pocket and he had his arms around Julius's waist. Julius curled his fingers into Malcolm's hair, tilted his head, got his tongue into Malcolm's mouth. It was, all in all, good. What would be better would be lying on the couch with Malcolm cradled against him.

Julius gently disentangled himself from Malcolm's embrace and led him the rest of the way into his study, his sanctum sanctorum. Julius sat on the couch and kicked his shoes off. Malcolm went to the sideboard and poured him a glass of whisky, carried it back to him and bowed as he handed it over. There was a gleam in his eye, that feral glint that Julius adored so, but muted for now. Julius swiveled so his legs were stretched out along the cushions and beckoned Malcolm over. Shoes off, jacket off, and Malcolm lay himself back in Julius's arms, between his legs, cushioned against Julius's regrettably comfortable belly. Julius kissed the back of his head, took a sip of the single malt Malcolm had chosen, and made a satisfied noise.

"Sybaritic cunt," Malcolm said. "S'pose I am in no position to complain."

Julius pressed his hand against his chest and said, "How are you feeling tonight?" This was a question he demanded an answer to, no matter how much Malcolm might hate it.

There was the sigh, but then Malcolm laid his hand over Julius's and laced his fingers with his.

"Was nae a bad week," he said. "Nic'la was almost sensible. And Tom did well at questions after some truly fucking intensive prep, so he's feeling good and I'm feeling good. All's well in Whitehall."

Julius kissed the back of his neck, just below the fringe of hair. Malcolm had rather lovely hair when he let it grow, but he kept it close-cropped. A symbol of the control he had to exert over himself, perhaps. He said, a trifle indistinctly through a mouthful of whisky, "I trust your lieutenant is mollified?"

"Jamie has decided he still believes in me, yeah. Fuck knows why. I mishandled him. He's my fucking friend and I didna treat him like one. Cunt's sensitive like a little girl, yeah? Took him out for a drink and sorted it."

"The confusion with Treasury?"

Malcolm waved his free hand. "Sorted that two days ago. They saw it my way in the end. Still, happy it's Friday night. Happy to be here."

"Mmm," Julius said. He slipped his forefinger into the space between the button of Malcolm's shirt and touched his skin. Malcolm made a pleased sound. Cuddling, he was cuddling his pet wolf of a Friday night and it was rather wonderful.

"And how was your week, Julz?"

"Acceptable. I have hopes Tom will see reason on the banking regulations, but he's reluctant. I am feeling nervy about the markets in some respect. Over-leverage, too much risk. Iceland in particular is rather mad about borrowing. I shall likely divest."

"You know best about that shite."

"There are men I know in the City who do considerably better. I'm taking hints from some of the more cautious among them. The fellows who've been doing it for a few decades."

The topic was, however, tedious. Another sip of whisky, and the warm glow commenced its spread through his blood. Julius felt himself begin to relax at last, truly relax. Malcolm was in good case; he'd been delighted by his present. They would end their evening with love-making. Julius found himself of a mind to get started on that happy project soon. He kissed the back of Malcolm's neck again.

"Fuck," Malcolm said, and he wriggled himself closer to Julius. "Feel like I'm in fucking heaven."

Julius set the whisky tumbler aside and tugged at Malcolm's tie to loosen it. "I should hope so. I work rather hard to make you feel that way."

"Fuck knows why."

"I'm quite ridiculously fond of you," Julius said. He got the tie worked free and commencing undoing Malcolm's shirt buttons. Malcolm's backside was firmly pressed against his hips, and that was most pleasurable. Most. Arousingly so. He had a mind to defer his own gratification until later, however. He would indulge himself by fussing over Malcolm some more.

The shirt was now unbuttoned. Malcolm obligingly pulled the tails free of his trousers, so Julius could explore his bare chest at his leisure. Bare chest, narrow chest. Skin and bones, at least when Julius had got started with him. He was feeling a bit more padded these days, now that Julius had him eating regular meals.

Julius let his fingers wander up to Malcolm's nipples. They were not all that sensitive ordinarily, but they could be coaxed into stiffness, which Julius liked. Down, down to his ticklish stomach, the fuzz over it, thickening as Julius stroked his way even further down. The band of his boxers, the patch of damp over the head of his penis, and there, hidden away, the penis itself. Lovely, tempting, penises were They tasted good, they felt good, they were such pleasure to hold in his hand, to stroke. Julius had known early in his life that the male form was his focus. Malcolm also found women arousing, which they had talked about once, when Julius had been in his cups. He found Malcolm's flexibility baffling. Women didn't have these lovely bollocks, so heavy in his hand, or penises. They didn't have foreskins to play with. "Tits and cunts," Malcolm had said, and shrugged, and they'd abandoned the topic as hopeless. They agreed on the pleasure of giving and receiving oral sex with other men, that was the important point. Even more important: Malcolm wanted to be taken by Julius just as intensely as Julius wanted to take him, which had been where their unconventional relationship had found its start.

Julius let his hand find a little bit of a rhythm, nice and slow, at the pace he knew Malcolm liked, slow and steady.

Malcolm laid a hand over his. "Stop," he said. Julius stopped immediately, and released him as Malcolm tried to sit up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just, I should be doing this for you. Let me blow you, yeah?"

"Hush," Julius said, and pulled him back against his chest, hard. Malcolm struggled for a moment, because that's what Malcolm had to do, then yielded. Julius pinned him in place with one hand and slid his hand into Malcolm's shorts again.

"This is what I need to come tonight," Julius whispered. "I need to feel you come first. I need to hear you. I want you to be a puddle of relaxation when I take you."

"Does that even fucking make sense?" Malcolm said, but he let his head fall back onto Julius's shoulder in submission.

That was not something Malcolm would even want to argue with, Julius knew, because of how deep his need to be used was. Which was again too close to a metaphor for Malcolm's daily life. Well, this was not the time to think about that. This was the time to settle Malcolm down on his lap again, slowly, with a hand holding pulled him back against his chest. He cupped his hand around Malcolm again. Malcolm groaned. Julius bit his lip to keep himself from doing the same. It would be undignified. He was nearly fully clothed and he had his pet on his lap grinding down against his trapped erection, yes, it felt lovely. However, a gentleman did not swear when he was having sex, no matter how how lovely the sounds from his beloved pet were.

"Yes, that's right. Moan for me. Let me know how much you like it, darling."