
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/153022.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Cotillion_-_Georgette_Heyer
  Relationship:
      Hugh/Jack, Jack/Original_Female_Character
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-01-17 Words: 1457
****** His Favourite Cousin ******
by tetsubinatu
Summary
     Jack and Hugh have history.
Notes
     This fic contains non-con/dub-con, for which I have warned. It also
     contains mention of past underage sex between two teenagers, but
     there is no implication that this was non-con or dub-con at the time.
George Biddenden looked around the hall with satisfaction. The members of the
hunt already assembled chattered and stirred restlessly. They would be off
soon. His eyes sought out the scattered individuals of his house-party. The
Standens, both father and son, were hunting. Mrs Standen was not the sort of
woman one could ever imagine on horseback and would presumably stay with his
mother, who had arranged some kind of picnic for those who preferred not to
hunt.
The McIntyres both hunted. They were newly married and still entirely engrossed
in each other, although not to the point of rudeness. Nevertheless George
doubted that they would see the end of the day in the saddle. He gave them one
or two hours at best. As he watched, McIntyre looked across the room and caught
the eye of his wife, who had been deep in conversation with George’s mother.
She gave him a smile so personal that George felt a little indecent to have
witnessed it. Really, they should keep such matters behind closed doors!
Lady Dolphinton he did not need to worry about, but he had already asked his
brother Hugh to watch her son. At fifteen he was old enough to join the hunt
and Lady Dolphinton had assured them that he was an experienced member of their
local hunt in Ireland, but George could not help but be concerned. There was no
denying that the boy was not all there, whatever his mother said. Yes, Hugh was
already beside the boy, apparently introducing him to the vicar. Reliable chap,
Hugh. Pity he was destined for Orders, really. Second son, though, and in any
case he had always had that odd puritan streak in him.
When Hugh had come down from Oxford for his first long vac. George had felt it
his duty to do all the things for him that their father had done for him when
he was that age. He sponsored him to Whites, of course, explained to him why it
was inadvisable to frequent certain establishments for gambling and other
amusements, introduced him to suitable contacts around town and took him to
Mirabelle’s, where the girls were clean, discreet and pretty. He had been quite
embarrassed when Hugh had taken one look around the - really quite demurely
decorated - entrance hall and refused to proceed further. After all, the boy
was not in Orders yet, and every gentleman frequented such places. It was
merely necessary to be a little discreet; not upset the ladies by mentioning
matters outside their understanding. George pursed his lips, remembering the
boy’s absurd reluctance to proceed further. He was a good boy though. In a
couple of years when he had finished up at Oxford George would have to look
around for a living for him.
Now he just needed to find Jack Westruther. His eyes roamed the hall, but there
was no sign of the impudent jackanapes. Jack had never been his favourite
cousin, but there was an obligation to invite him to visit from time to time.
Their mothers enjoyed the visit, too. Jack’s mother was a gentle soul and
George knew that his own mother found her pleasant company.
Where could the boy be? The master of the hunt would be signalling to go soon.
George signalled to Hugh, who came willingly to his side, leaving Dolphinton to
talk with the vicar. “Hugh, could you go and see where Jack is? The master has
signalled to have the horses brought around and we should be leaving at any
moment."
Hugh nodded in his solemn manner. “Certainly, George. I’ll go and check his
room.”
                                   - o - o -
Jack’s bedroom door was shut, but from behind it came the sound of giggling.
Hugh’s face closed in disapproval and he made only the barest pretence of
waiting for his knock to be answered before he opened the door. As he had
feared, Jack was perched on the side of his bed with his hands up the skirts of
the youngest housemaid, Mary. Hugh caught a glimpse of brown hands on milky
buttocks before her skirts dropped as she gasped and drew away from Jack.
“Mary!”
“Sorry Sir!” she stammered guiltily, grasping her duster and making to exit the
room. “I’m very sorry!”
“We will be speaking more of this, Mary. I will have to tell Lady Biddenden,”
Hugh said in a disappointed voice. He stepped back to allow her to pass, but he
could hear her begin to sob as she fled. He shut the door firmly behind him.
“Damme Hugh! Do you have to be such a spoilsport?” His cousin was sulkily
unrepentant.
“It is scarcely the part of a gentleman, Jack, to seduce the housemaids. You
are a guest in this house, after all.”
“Its damnably boring here. What else am I supposed to do?”
“The hunt’s about to start,” Hugh replied drily. “There’s a day’s amusement in
that, surely?”
“I suppose. I have other needs, though.”
“Indeed. Well you will have to restrain yourselves with the housemaids,
nevertheless.” Hugh turned to go, but let out a grunt of shock as his cousin
threw a boot which hit him in the ankle. “Dammit, Jack! That hurt! We’re not
twelve any more, you know!” he exclaimed furiously, striding over to grasp his
cousin’s arms and pull him to his feet.
“You were a hell of a lot more fun when you were twelve,” Jack said. His face
softened. “In fact you were even more fun when we were fifteen.” He tilted his
head coquettishly.
Hugh’s grip tightened painfully and then he drew sharply away from the shorter
man. “Don’t be ridiculous. We were merely foolish schoolboys. We’re adults now.
Come to the hunt, Jack,” he said in a weary voice.
Below them on the drive there was a rising buzz as people began to mount and
the hounds began to let out excited yelps at the prospect of the day’s sport.
Jack picked up his boot and began to put it on. “Give me a hand with this,
Hugh?”
Reluctantly Hugh turned away from the lighted scene below them to kneel in the
shadows beside the bed. With a firm hand he pushed until the boot slid onto
Jack’s foot.
“Thanks, coz,” Jack said. His hand rested lightly on Hugh’s head as he slid off
the bed, brushing Hugh’s cheek with his thigh as he passed. “Let’s go a-
hunting.”
Hugh stared after him, his face an unreadable puzzle. Slowly he stood up and
followed Jack downstairs to the crowded hall.
                                   - o - o -
They came in exhausted, but satisfied. A number of local people were staying to
dine with the Biddendens and their house party and the talk was mainly of the
day’s sport. The picnic had also been a success, and Baron Biddenden felt well
enough to join his guests for dinner, although he retired well before the party
broke up. George took over the duties of host smoothly; he was accustomed to
serve as his father’s deputy,especially since the Baron’s illness. Even so, the
guest began to leave quite early. Those who had been on horseback all day were
ready for their beds far sooner than the picnickers would have liked.
Hugh himself went to bed as soon as he decently could. He had not yet had a
chance to speak to his mother about Mary, but he would do so in the morning. He
sank gratefully into the warm depths of his bed and almost immediately into a
deep sleep.
                                   - o - o -
He was somewhere safe, warm, happy. Red swirls surrounded him and then were
shot with gold as he arched back into ecstasy.
Oh God! Oh merciful heavens!
A strong brown arm smothered his quiet scream as he came into Jack Westruther’s
practised fist.
Gasping and disoriented, Hugh stared with wild eyes into his cousin’s smirking
face.
“About time you woke up,” Jack smirked, shifting to sit astride Hugh’s shaking
body.
“Jack...” Hugh tried to grasp what was happening. “This is a sin, Jack. You
mustn’t... We can’t!”
Jack merely bent to lick at the sensitive point of his collarbone. He seemed
relaxed but as Hugh tried to buck him off he had no trouble restraining the
taller man. “Come on man! You don’t like me corrupting the maids, but you can’t
expect me to do without for two weeks!” He tweaked a nipple with a ruthlessly
accurate memory of Hugh’s weaknesses, then as Hugh rocked with the shock of it,
did it again. Hugh could not restrain a moan.
“That’s more like it, coz!” The pretty, calculating face leaned down and thrust
a tongue into Hugh’s mouth. Hugh sucked it. He was lost. He could expect no
mercy from heaven; he was lost again.
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