England, 1847

Working as a labourer on Patrick Abbott's farm was very different than trudging through the sewers of London as a tosher. The work was still hard, but Gideon Hartwright had grown to appreciate it.

He had absolutely no experience with crop-picking or animal husbandry, but his vampire strength came in very handy at stacking hay, building drystone walls or fences or gates, mending the slate roof of the farmhouse, or helping to dig and maintain ditches, ponds and farm roads.

His inexperience with farm labour had almost cost him the job at first, even more so when Patrick Abbott realised that Gideon needed to work by night. But he'd hired Gideon anyway, and offered him a tiny attic room to sleep in. Gideon suspected he'd got the job because he'd told Patrick that he wouldn't need food – that would save the farmer money, something which Patrick seemed keen to do.

Gideon smiled as he heaved stacks of hay into place in the barn. This wasn't where he'd ever thought he'd end up, but he liked having a purpose. He liked the feeling of achieving something, and though he knew that this, like everything else, couldn't last forever, he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Patrick himself didn't talk much, but his wife, Maggie was kind and warm, and their four children were like tiny balls of sunshine. They weren't Gideon's family and they never would be, but he liked stepping into the glow of the love they all had for each other. It felt like he'd been standing in the dark and the cold for a long time, and then someone had flung open the door, spilling light into the night, and even though Gideon couldn't pass through that door, he was content with standing in the spilled light.

Footsteps crunched outside, then Patrick came into the barn.

Quickly, Gideon looked away.

The only thing wrong with his life here was Patrick, not because he wasn't the most approachable of men, but because he was so beautiful. Years of farm work had carved his body into hard muscle, and his skin was tanned from spending so much time outside, with weathered lines fanning out around his eyes and across his forehead. A reddish-brown beard dusted his chin, slightly lighter than the thick hair on his head.

Since Gideon wasn't human, Patrick's presence didn't cause his heart to speed up or his breathing to stutter, but he felt clumsy and tongue-tied around the older man. Since leaving Nicholas, he hadn't felt any particular attraction to anyone, which wasn't surprising considering how little time he'd spent in one place. Then he'd met Patrick, and all the feelings that had withered away after Nicholas came roaring back.

"Good evening," he said, glancing at Patrick.

Patrick just grunted, but his eyes were intense as he looked at Gideon. It made Gideon squirm in the most delightful way.

He tried to focus on stacking hay, anything to stop thinking about the man behind him and the fact that Gideon desperately wanted to take his clothes off.

Patrick's footsteps came closer, but Gideon didn't turn to see what he doing.

Just focus on the hay.

He hauled another stack into place, but thoughts of Patrick had him distracted, and the hay didn't quite land where he wanted it. He bent over to pull it into place, and suddenly Patrick was right behind him, standing close enough that he pressed against Gideon from behind.

There was no mistaking the hardness jutting against his trousers, and Gideon went very still, his hands lingering on the hay. At first he wondered if it was a mistake, if Patrick had simply misjudged the distance between them, but then Patrick didn't move. His hips insistently pressed against Gideon, and when Gideon looked over his shoulder, he found that Patrick was looking intently back at him, his eyes dark with heat.

Then they heard voices, and Patrick abruptly stepped back, as if nothing had happened.

Gideon wasn't the only one working at the farm. Last year in Ireland, a potato late blight had ruined most of the country's crops, bringing a terrible famine that was killing thousands and leading many more to emigrate to England in hopes of finding work. Patrick had recently employed two such Irish boys, and they came into the barn now, chattering among themselves. One of them doffed his cap to Patrick, but neither of them noticed the charged atmosphere in this space.

Usually Gideon liked the two boys, but now he felt a spark of frustration that they'd interrupted . . . whatever had been happening.

Maybe he and Patrick could pick up where they left off when the boys were gone – that hope was promptly dashed when Patrick walked out of the barn without another word, leaving Gideon wondering if he'd either imagined or badly misconstrued the whole situation.

He shook his head.

He had not imagined the rock-hard shape of Patrick pushing against him, or the heated way that Patrick looked at him.

Whatever Gideon was feeling, he was sure that Patrick felt it too.

The next evening, Patrick came into the barn again. Gideon had just started work, but he stopped when he saw his employer. Outside, the sky was purple and grey, night not having fully set in, and the bruised colour framed Patrick as he stood in the entryway.

Gideon had no idea what to do.

He wanted Patrick like he hadn't wanted anyone in a long time, but Nicholas was still the only man he'd ever been with. His old fears and doubts lurked below the surface, making him feel nervous about the prospect of taking a new partner.

Before he could think of what to say, Patrick strode over to him, his movements brisk, almost aggressive.

"You want me, don't you?" he said.

"Yes," Gideon admitted.

Putting his hands on Gideon's shoulders, Patrick pushed him back until they were behind the stacks of hay, shielded from view of anyone who might come into the barn.

"Get on your knees and open your mouth," he ordered.

A little uncertainly, Gideon obeyed. Patrick freed himself from his trousers, holding himself with one hand as he looked down at Gideon. This wasn't what Gideon had had in mind. He'd thought Patrick might kiss him, not jump straight to . . . this.

But before he could protest, Patrick was pushing deep into his mouth. He clasped both hands behind Gideon's head, holding him in place, and began to furiously pump his hips.

This really wasn't what Gideon had had in mind.

He'd done this plenty of times with Nicholas, but there'd always been some kissing and touching leading up to it, and Nicholas had always checked that Gideon was comfortable.

Patrick didn't check.

He shoved himself into Gideon's mouth over and over again, his breath harshly sawing between his clenched teeth, his hands hard on the back of Gideon's head. If Gideon had been human, this would have been deeply uncomfortable, triggering his gag reflex and making it very hard for him to breathe, and the fact that he wasn't human didn't change anything because Patrick didn't know that.

Gideon wasn't sure why he didn't pull away. He was much stronger than Patrick but something held him there, and it wasn't the rough grasp of Patrick's clasped hands.

Maybe it was the look of raw pleasure creasing Patrick's face, the way his mouth opened with gasping groans, pink against the reddish-brown of his beard. It had been a long time since Gideon had made anyone feel that good, and he'd forgotten how much he enjoyed it.

Patrick stiffened and shoved into Gideon's mouth one more time, as deep as he could, as he finally reached his peak and came with a loud growl.

Then he finally relaxed his grip on Gideon's head and pulled himself out of Gideon's mouth. The heat in his eyes had grown even darker, and Gideon's own body hardened in response to it.

"I see you've done that before," Patrick said, and there was something in his voice that Gideon couldn't identify. It wasn't exactly complimentary, though.

He wanted to point out that what Patrick saw as his experience in this area was actually just a result of him not needing to breathe, but of course he couldn't.

Patrick tucked himself back into his trousers.

"Maggie and the children are visiting her sister tomorrow. The house will be empty," he said. "They're planning to leave just after breakfast, and when they're gone I will come to your room in the attic. I expect you to be naked and waiting on the bed for me."

Gideon blinked.

This . . . what was this?

As Patrick's employee, he'd grown used to the other man ordering him around, but this was a totally different context, and Gideon wasn't sure he liked it. But he was still hard and straining against his trousers, and he still wanted to feed that flame of need that had flared up inside him.

So he nodded.

Patrick walked out of the barn without saying another word. Gideon wiped his mouth and stood up. This wasn't how he had imagined things would go, but maybe Patrick had been nervous too.

For the first time since he'd realised Patrick wanted him, Gideon reminded himself that Patrick had a wife and children. Maybe he was like Gideon, forced to hide who he really was, nut unlike Gideon, he hadn't been able to escape the shackles of a marriage and a life he didn't want. Maybe he'd never dared do anything like this with another man before, and that was why he'd been rough, almost desperate.

Gideon could understand that.

Maybe tomorrow, Patrick would be more relaxed.

Maybe things would be different.

Gideon leaned against the metal frame of the small bed in the small attic room that was currently his home. Tucked into the eaves of the house, it was usually draughty, and sometimes rats sneaked in, but after toshing in the London sewers, country rats didn't bother Gideon.

This time he hadn't done as Patrick had said.

He was waiting in his room for his employer, but his clothes were still on. It felt less vulnerable this way.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs outside, getting closer, and a shiver of anticipation went through Gideon.

The wooden door creaked open and Patrick strode in. He scowled. "I said to be naked on the bed when I arrived."

Part of Gideon bristled at Patrick's tone, but at the same time he was so desperately aching with need that he could barely think about anything else.

Patrick waited, still scowling, until Gideon gave in and started undressing. He heard Patrick's hiss of appreciation and the sound of his heartbeat increasing when Gideon stood naked before him, and it bolstered his flagging confidence. He climbed onto the bed, watching Patrick as he moved closer.

"Turn around, on all fours," Patrick commanded, untucking his shirt.

Yesterday, Gideon had speculated that Patrick might not have done anything like this before. Now he wasn't so sure.

He did as he was told, listening to Patrick's heavy tread creaking on the floorboards as he approached the bed. The mattress creaked too, when he climbed onto it.

Anticipation shuddered over Gideon's skin.

He waited for Patrick to touch him, to prepare him the way Nicholas had always done. Instead he heard the rough sound of Patrick spitting, and then Patrick was abruptly pushing in.

He hadn't put on a condom. Gideon couldn't catch any diseases, through sex or any other means, but again, Patrick didn't know that.

As he had done the day before, Patrick started to roughly rock his hips, picking up a punishing pace immediately.

He didn't ask if Gideon had done this before.

He didn't ask if Gideon was alright, or if he minded the roughness.

Gideon wasn't sure how to feel.

Patrick had hurt at first, and even though Gideon had moved past the pain and into the pleasure, he was still very aware that Patrick hadn't bothered to ask him any of those important questions.

Patrick didn't speak to him, didn't touch him beyond the grip of his hands on Gideon's hips, which was hard enough to bruise, and it soon became clear that there was no question of any position but this one. It was so impersonal that Gideon couldn't help but keep comparing it to how things had been with Nicholas.

But despite his misgivings, he was deeply attracted to Patrick. It had been such a long time since he'd felt this strong desire to sleep with anyone, that he'd felt this physical need.

And of course it would be different with Patrick than it had been with Nicholas. They were very different men, apparently with very different desires.

Gideon just wished that Patrick had taken Gideon's own desires into consideration.

But as Patrick's hips kept moving, Gideon's thoughts faded out, replaced by the primal awareness of how good this felt. Patrick made a harsh grunt and drove in as deep as he could as he went over the edge, and Gideon followed a heartbeat later.

Maybe Patrick's rough style and surly commands weren't what Gideon had had in mind, but it was harder to remember that when his very bones felt lit up with pure pleasure.

Patrick pulled out as roughly as he had pushed in, and climbed off the bed. Gideon rolled over and watched as Patrick got dressed. He didn't look at Gideon.

"My wife will be away again the morning after tomorrow, at the same time. Make sure you're here and this time make sure you're naked already." He finally looked at Gideon, but there was a cold remoteness to his gaze. "Clean yourself up and get back to work."

Then he left.

Gideon stared at the attic door as it swung shut. He hadn't expected a long bout of cuddling in bed together, like he'd done with Nicholas, but a kiss goodbye would have been nice, anything to make him feel like he meant more to Patrick than just the nearest body.

But maybe this was normal.

Gideon had to remember that while he'd been with Nicholas for years, Nicholas was still the only man that Gideon had been with – up until now at least, so maybe Nicholas's way of talking to Gideon during sex, the way he'd liked to change position, the way he'd always made sure that Gideon was comfortable and enjoying things – maybe that was abnormal.

Nicholas had taught him many things about sex, but not what to expect with a new partner, and why would be? He hadn't expected Gideon to leave him.

Gideon climbed out of bed and approached the washstand in the corner. Sex with Patrick had felt good, despite that initial discomfort, so maybe he just needed time to get used to Patrick's particular style.

Time would help with that, he hoped.

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