Author Nix Winter offers us a sneak-peek into the world of Cain & Shelly with this week’s special guest blog!
Side bit to Cain and Shelly
by Nix Winter
copyright 2008
all rights reserved
Excerpt
Sunlight filtered through the lace, mottling over Shelly’s hair, over the white shirt he wore. The door to his room closed, but his response was just the slightest move of slender fingers, under soft and layered lace. Well-tailored black slacks concealed and informed the firm lines of his body. It was late morning. Anyone of real status would be asleep still. The servants were focused on preparing for the evening’s party.
“Shelly.”
“Oliver,” Shelly replied, smiling over his shoulder, blond waves framing his face. “I was hoping you’d arrive early.”
Oliver grinned, short dark hair neat around his face, side burns neatly trimmed. Black slacks, white tuxedo shirt, he twirled a long stemmed rose in one hand. Dark eyes glittered wickedly. “I brought rose wine.”
Shelly let his shirt slip from one shoulder, revealing strong and well built body, healthy and pale. “Are you saying you need to get drunk to want me?”
Oliver turned the key in the lock and pulled it out. Very familiar with his lover’s room, he set both the key and the wine on the floor at the foot of Shelly’s bed. “The only thing I need to desire you is breath.”
Shelly took a step back from the window, as much as he loved the sunshine, he wanted just a touch more privacy with his lover. Oliver traced his fingers slowly down Shelly’s bare shoulder, leaving goosebumps. “I want you, Shelly.”Â
“How badly do you want me,” Shelly asked, turning, letting his shirt slip from both shoulders and down, soft cotton and lace caressing over sensitive skin as it fell. “How badly do you want me?”
Oliver licked his lips, trembling fingers, pushing Shelly’s shirt the rest of the way free. Fingers traced slowly back up Shelly’s arms, shivering so lightly, their eyes locked, searching each other’s soul, until his strong hands grabbed hold. Pulling his lover to him, Oliver joined them, lips caressing lips, diving deep into forbidden intimacy with his love. Shelly melted open, pressing up, drinking his love down as if this might be the only moment they might have.
The world around them was decadent, gilt, but tainted with the end of Mr. Lincoln’s War. What promises forbidden love could give came to little more than what kisses held the moment. Oliver growled into the kiss, his tongue caressing Shelly’s tongue, cherishing him. His kiss moved to Shelly’s throat, kissing down towards his shoulder.
“Today. I want… today.” Shelly’s voice was breathy, light. One slender leg hooked around Oliver’s, pulling him closer, groin to groin.
“Are you sure?” Oliver whispered, kisses low enough to be warm and wet against Shelly’s nipple. “I’m happy with your mouth.”
“More,” Shelly moaned, hands working under Oliver’s shirt. “Now. I want it now.”
“Wicked boy,” Oliver growled, hands undoing the buttons of Shelly’s pants. “I love you, Shelly. I really love you. We’ll go together, to San Francisco, so far away. We’ll live together.”
“Together,” Shelly promised, a hand sliding over the front of Oliver’s pants. “You do want me.” 
“Of course I want you,” Oliver said, hands now cupping Shelly’s bare ass cheeks, lifting him up. His own pants fell, letting him step easily free of them so he could carry Shelly to the bed. “I’m nervous too, you know. It’s not like I’ve ever, before, you know.”
“Touch me,” Shelly begged, scooting back on the bed, knees bent. “Just touch me. We don’t have do anything you’re not ready for.”
They’d studied together for years, come of age together. Both had reached their majorities with in months of each other. First love, only love, deepest secret, and Shelly tipped his head, chin to his chest, soft rosy lips flush full of life.Â
“You are so beautiful,” Oliver whispered. “At night, in my room, I close my eyes and think of you, only you.”
“Do you think of touching me,” Shelly asked, long slender fingers reaching between his legs to touch the soft rosy pucker, so private and intimate, “Here.”
“Yes,” Oliver said, blush darkening his cheeks. “Right there.” His fingers were thick, the fingers of an engineer, a builder from a proud bloodline. Shaking, a finger circled slowly around the offered entrance. “Oil?”
“I knew you were coming,” Shelly said, his blush making his eyes bluer, his hair seem fairer, “I got some. It’s in the crock, just under the bed.”
“You think of everything,” Oliver said, appreciatively. “It’s only one of the reasons I love you.”
“We’re really going to be together forever,” Shelly asked, holding his knees, watching as Oliver’s slick finger trailed slowly along Shelly’s groan, back towards the sweet secret rose.
“Forever, Shelly. Whatever we have to do, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll never be parted from you,” Oliver said, pressing his finger forward into the heated sheath, opening the tender virgin ring. “Always.”
“Always,” Shelly agreed, inching forward a little, taking Oliver’s finger deeper. “It’s good. I like it. It’s so wicked, so good. Everything feels so vividly.”
“Artist boy,” Oliver teased, smiling. “I’m not sure it’s really big enough for my cock.”
“Finger worked fine. Let’s try.”
“Wine. First. I went to a lot of trouble to get it, you know.”
“Okay,” Shelly agreed, sitting up.
Oliver backed away a little, rising and peeling off his shirt. “Definitely wine. What if I hurt you?”
“You won’t hurt me. Do you want to? I mean, you don’t have to.”
“Are you kidding,” Oliver said, pulling the cork from his bottle of wine. The scent of roses filled the room, wafting slowly, creating an aura of otherworldliness. “Of course, I want to be inside you. Isn’t that what all men want? To be inside the one they love.”
“I’m a man, just fine, but what I want is you in me. Does that make me less of a man?”
“No,” Oliver hastily rejected. “You are a brilliant man, poetic, artistic, mouthy, and everything I have ever wanted.”
Oliver crawled up over the bed, bringing the bottle of wine with him. “You are the flower of all that I could desire. Does that make me less of a man? That I shiver and cry out for you in my bed? That my cum spills as I think of my hands in your hair?”
“Who is to say what a man is,” Shelly said, coming back up from where he’d reached for the oil, hand slick and dripping. “I want to drink… you.”
Shelly took the bottle with one hand and the other hand took hold of Oliver’s cock, stroking oil over the thick length.
“You really want me to do it?”
“Yeah,” Shelly said, smiling so brightly his eyes closed for just a moment. “I do. We’ll be one person.”
“Yeah,” Oliver agreed, voice low, in awe. “Till death do us part” he whispered, invoking powerful ritual magic.
“Yeah,” Shelly agreed, stroking his lover’s hardness. Trembling in fear and desire, he scooted closer, refusing to back down. “Now, take me now.”
“Have you been reading those ladies novels again?”
“Maybe,” Shelly said, all blush and shifting eyes.
“Lay back,” Oliver said, taking another long drink of the wine. “I want to look at you, my virgin husband. Do you think we’ll burn in Hell?”
“How could that be,” Shelly said, “We’re built for this too, aren’t we? When you touch me everything that’s good comes out in me.”
“Angel, my angel,” Oliver swore, laying himself over Shelly, just low enough that he’d find his way into his love. “You will tell me if it hurts?”
“How could it hurt? I’m waiting for you, longing or you,” Shelly said, legs open.
Oliver’s hands sought out Shelly’s fingers lacing together. Hearts beating hard, heard enough that Shelly was sure he could feel the pounding of Oliver’s against his chest. “Is this like in the books?”
Shelly groaned, legs reaching to wrap around Oliver. “Do it like us.”
“Crazy bastard,” Oliver whimpered, a hand slipping between them to encircle Shelly’s passion, stroking, slow, knowing well the needs of his lover. The head of Oliver’s cock pressed eagerly to a now slick virgin entrance. Heat and love, need that pulled through his belly, need so powerful that mingled with wine and drove him forward. The first joining push spread Shelly’s relaxed and willing entrance, testing the boundaries of fear and acceptance. “You’re magic.”
“Oh god,” Shelly whimpered, the thick shaft of his lover opening him, filling him with more sensation than he could have imagined. So sensitive, feeling every movement, the heat and hardness, he panted, sweat breaking out over his forehead. “More, take me all the way so it can never be taken away.”
Oliver froze. “You’re pale! Does it hurt?”
“Deeper! All the way!”
“Oh hell,” Oliver growled, thrusting deeper, his cock slicked with oil and secreted into the body of his love, the keeper of his heart, he could hardly think, “All the way, Cumming!”
The deepest point brought a flash of pleasure in Shelly, white light behind his eyes as some part of his body was touched that he’d never knew could exist. To him it wasn’t a prostate, but love, passion, a promise of forever. “Yes,” he cried out, arms going around Oliver, clutching him tight. “Do it again!”
Not releasing crossed Oliver’s eyes with strain, but he held back, balls tight, and he drew back just a little, then forward again, shaking in Shelly’s embrace. “What? Are you okay?”
“Good, good, feels good, do it again!” Shelly cried out, louder than a secret lover should be even in his own family home.”
“I’m cumming,” Oliver begged, apologized, weak in Shelly’s arms as he tried to stroke his lover’s pleasure, tried to hold off and failed, his passion boiling out of him, spilling decadent proof of their love into Shelly’s body. “Shelly!”
Shelly’s body jumped to its peak as well, spilling liquid heat between them. Oliver’s hand covered Shelly’s mouth, hiding the cry as orgasm tightened and held, hiding the secret of their love as much as he could.Â
Clinging to each other, softness welling up around them, comfortable in each other, in the promise of the future. Oliver, now on his side, pulled Shelly close, tucking him safe in his arms. “Did it hurt?”
“Only at the start, but then it was really, really good, felt wonderful,” Shelly said, dazed. “Forever.”
“Forever,” Oliver promised. “We will go to San Francisco. You’ll paint pictures and I’ll build fine buildings.”
“Going to sleep now,” Shelly purred, fingers interlinking with Oliver’s.
“For a little while,” Oliver agreed.
Everything was perfect. Such a perfect day.
 
Want more? Check out Nix Winter’s website:
 www.nixwinter.com
