
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/188149.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Queer_as_Folk_(US)
  Relationship:
      Brian_Kinney/Justin_Taylor
  Character:
      Brian_Kinney, Justin_Taylor, Michael_Novotny, Daphne_Chanders, Emmett
      Honeycutt, Lindsay, Melanie_Marcus
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Alternate_Universe_-_Historical
  Stats:
      Published: 2001-02-15 Words: 11883
****** Rules of the Game ******
by Elayna
Summary
     A lord teaches a young man the rules of the game and finds himself
     learning some new tricks from his student.
Notes
     Dedicated: To Jane for inspiring this bunny.
     My sincere appreciation to Caly for the superb betaing and titling
     this fic.
     Warning: Historical ambiance not accuracy.
Lord Brian Kinney cuddled his son to his chest with one arm, tracing the
child's small features with his fingertip. Pleased with the attention, the
child cooed happily, grabbing at his father's hand.
"Augustus. Lord Augustus Kinney." Brian's voice was a gentle murmur. Most of
his acquaintances would have surprised to hear the tenderness in his voice.
Outside of quiet moments in the bedroom, Brian Kinney rarely displayed his soft
side. And even those bedroom moments were strictly limited since he preferred
sexual gymnastics to romantic cuddling.
Despite the sweetness of his tone, Brian's thoughts were in turmoil as he
studied his beaming son. As his domineering father had always demanded, he'd
married a good woman and to all appearances, settled down. He had a son to
carry on the family name and title. His father never had a chance to appreciate
his grandson, having passed away only a few weeks after the wedding, his death
transforming Lord Brian and Lady Lindsay Kinney into the Earl and Countess of
Longdon. Though the fulfillment of his responsibilities would have thrilled his
patriarch, Brian suffered from mixed emotions. He cared more than he imagined
for this small trusting person but the rush of paternal awakening didn't make
him feel young and vibrant. Being a father just made him feel old.
"My lord."
"Yes Edgar, what is it?" Augustus scrunched his brow, hearing the displeasure
in his father's voice as his introspection was interrupted.
"Your guest has arrived, sir."
"My guest?" Brian turned away from the window to glance at his butler and the
young man hovering in the doorway behind him. "Oh yes, let him come in."
The butler sniffed at the young man's presumptuousness in not remaining in the
entry way as he had been directed but stepped aside to let him pass. Without
further permission, Justin Taylor crossed the room and walked straight up to
Brian, gazing down at the infant in his arms.
"Hello," Justin said, fixing his attention on the child as a distraction
against the dominant presence of the man. Even in the relaxed atmosphere of the
country, his lordship's clothes were of the finest materials and with his
superb body, brunette hair tied back, and observant hazel eyes, Brian exuded an
elegance and sophistication that fascinated and intimidated the young man.
"What's your name?"
"His name is Augustus. Lord Augustus Kinney," Brian replied for his son, his
eyes caught and held by the young man's striking good looks. Though he was
dressed in casual clothes for traveling and his blond hair curt unnaturally
short, nothing could disguise the beauty of his face or the attractiveness of
his lithe figure.
"Gus. Cute name."
"You're a rude boy, giving him a nickname without asking," Brian scolded,
though he sounded more amused than upset. He swung Gus into both hands, raising
him over his head. "But I like it. Gus. Lord Gus." Gus waved his hands in glee
as his father swung him in the air.
"Everyone gets a nickname in school. He wouldn't survive with Augustus anyway.
Not if he's going to Eton," Justin replied, unperturbed by the rebuke. With
Brian's attention on Gus, he took advantage of the freedom to stare at his
profile, the wide brow, straight nose, and slightly tilted smile.
"Lord Gus?" The woman's voice from the doorway didn't share Brian's pleasure.
"Gus isn't a proper name."
"Kinneys don't live by society's rules of what is proper and what isn't."
"At least you don't."
Justin flinched from the harshness in the woman's voice, surprised that someone
would be so blunt when addressing a lord of the realm. He tried to guess her
status but failed. She wasn't in a maid's uniform, but her light green day
dress was plainer than he would have expected a member of society to wear.
"My wife also has been known to be somewhat unconventional," Brian replied,
cuddling Gus back to his chest as the child sensed the unpleasant undercurrent
and started to sniffle. He was definitely mocking the woman and Justin guessed
she was his wife, despite her clothes appearing so plain next to his elegant
attire.
"Speaking of your wife, Lindsay would like her son. It's time for him to be
fed." The woman held out her hands, her words disproving Justin's assumption.
With a kiss on his brow, Brian surrendered Gus to her. "Oh, this is Melanie.
Melanie, this is – "
At Brian's pause, Justin said, "Justin Taylor."
"Justin Taylor. Justin, Melanie. Melanie, Justin. He's come to visit."
Melanie dismissed Justin with a toss of her head, snuggling Gus to her bosom
and turning to leave the room. Brian began speaking before she walked out the
door. "You'll have to excuse Melanie. She likes to lecture me but believes she
is above such considerations as politeness herself."
"Who is she?" Justin asked curiously. He was fascinated by Brian, his
attractiveness, his commanding presence, and wanted to know everything about
him, even about the people in his life that he apparently disliked.
"She's my wife's…friend. Lindsay wanted someone with her while we waited for
Lord Gus to be born. Come, sit down." Following his own instructions, Brian
flung himself into one of the leather armchairs. "So – Justin. I received a
letter from your mother. I understand you've been sick."
"Yes, pneumonia. The doctor bled me several times. It took me weeks to recover.
My hair," Justin stopped, running a hand self-consciously through his closely
cropped blond hair, as he dropped into the other armchair by the fire, "they
cut off my hair, I was sweating so much."
More abrupt than flattering, Brian said, "It looks good on you."
"Thank you."
Brian studied the young man as earnestly as he'd examined his son. Though a
man, Justin was still young enough that he didn't move with that refined ease
dictated by society but instead allowed his youthful energy and vigor to shine,
shifting awkwardly as he settled in the chair rather than perching delicately
on the end. He may have been deathly ill a few weeks ago but his pent-up energy
belied the need for further recuperation.
"Your mother thought the country air would benefit you." The letter had arrived
only three days ago from his mother. Brian cynically realized its convenient
timing prevented him from stopping Justin's visit, since he would be well on
his way before Brian could respond. The words had been couched in carefully
elegant handwriting, but Brian could read the meaning behind the words and
interpret the desperation that drove Jennifer to this act.
Justin grimaced, obviously unimpressed with his mother's feelings. "She thinks
town life is dangerous for me."
Beautiful Jennifer, blond Jennifer. She had loved town life once upon a time,
reveling in the soirees and balls, her hair piled high in powdered ringlets,
her elaborate ball gown swirling around her ankles as she danced around the
room. But those days were long ago, when beautiful Jennifer loved handsome Lord
David Kinney, the future Earl of Longdon, and Brian was a second son destined
for the church or the military. Before David's death, Jennifer's marriage for
money to a trade baron's son, and Brian's lengthy evolution from ungainly boy
to wild young man about town to staid married Earl.
"Town life is full of decadence. Don't you know that?"
The knowledge was there in his eager eyes, in the shy yet bold tilt of his head
as he met Brian's stare. Oh yes, Jennifer was right to worry. Justin may not
have experienced the decadence of high society, but he was fully ready to
rectify that omission. No wonder her phrasing was so delicate. 'Justin is a
high-strung boy' and 'his father doesn't understand him.'
Justin was a dueling pistol primed and ready to fire, eager to run rampant and
taste all the mortal sins that the body is capable of committing. His father
undoubtedly understood that fact very well and would have been quite happy with
youthful indiscretions if those wild oats had been directed at the parlor maids
or even eligible young misses. Justin's father would likely crow with pride if
his son impregnated a young lady and connected himself to a titled family
through a hasty marriage.
Fooling around with the stable boys and other young bucks was simply beyond the
pale.
Not unless you were Brian Kinney and didn't give a damn.
"My mother had her debut in society. She met my father at a ball. I don't
understand why I can't go to parties."
"Perhaps when you're well. After a little country air has restored your
spirits."
The mockery was so clearly directed at his mother rather than him that Justin
didn't get upset with Brian. He grinned cheerfully. "So will you expose me to
this fresh country air?"
Brian stood, holding out a hand. "I think I'm exactly the man to expose you to
what you need." As Jennifer had asked in her letter. 'He needs to consider his
future in life. Help him find his path.'
Did she really think a wife and child would stop him from taking advantage of
this delectable morsel? That his shackles had changed his inclinations? That a
year spent rusticating in the country, first observing the conventional
niceties of mourning the loss of his overbearing father and then waiting for
his child to be born had tamed him? Transformed Lord Brian Kinney, the scandal
of polite society, from a sleek panther into a little housecat? Was she that
naïve or just willfully blind?
Brian didn't really care what Jennifer thought. She was only someone who once
might have been his sister-in-law. Someone who long ago seemed very golden and
mature when he was a young brat, trailing in the footsteps of his adored older
brother. But oh yes, he would respond to her plea. He would be delighted to
help this young man find his path. Living as a member of high society - or as
the son of a trade baron and a Lady, accepted by society for his money and
connection to a title - was an elaborate game, full of ruses and strategies.
Brian knew them all, including when to play, to bluff and to fold.
Today he felt like he had been dealt a royal flush.
Justin looked nervously at Brian's hand as if trying to see the danger hidden
in the open palm, the secret ace up his sleeve. Then he put his hand in Brian's
and stood, accepting whatever Brian wanted to show him.
"Come, let me take you on a tour of the house. You've seen my den."
By unspoken agreement, their joined hands separated as they reached the doorway
and walked past the footman standing stiffly in the hallway, waiting for
orders. The tour was brief, Brian idly gesturing at doorways but not stopping.
"The parlor … the library … the dining room … the ballroom … the kitchen."
Justin followed, smiling and glancing curiously into each room, following
closely at Brian's heels as he walked up the grand staircase, their feet
muffled by the Oriental rug running down its length.
"My wife's bedroom … the nursery … Melanie's bedroom … guest bedroom, guest
bedroom ….my bedroom."
"You and your wife don't share a room?" Justin gazed around as he asked the
question. His family was wealthy and he was accustomed to a life of privilege,
but this house and its furnishings were beyond even his expectations. Even
someone as uninterested in such things as Justin could determine that the
furniture, the drapes, the rugs, the paintings, and the porcelain ornaments
were of the finest quality.
"My wife prefers to have Melanie close by when Gus awakens her," came Brian's
bland reply as he strolled to stand by the bed. He loosened his cravat and
undid the buttons on his jacket and shirt before stripping them off. "The
servants' quarters are on the third floor."
"This is a great room," Justin said, but his eyes were captivated by Brian's
muscular chest rather than the decorations.
"I'm fond of it." Brian tugged off his boots, pushed his breeches over his hips
and down to the floor, removing his silk socks last. He straightened, standing
boldly in front of his visitor. "Are you ready to be educated?"
A small part of his mind whispered to Justin he should be shocked. Grown men
simply didn't undress in front of each other. The last time he'd seen another
fully undressed male body, he had been playing with his friend Geoffrey in the
snow. Drenched from falling and tumbling into the white piles as they wrestled,
they'd finally staggered inside for hot chocolate and warm scones. The
housekeeper had taken one look at the ragged and wet 8 year olds and dragged
them upstairs, stripping them down and redressing them both in clean clothes of
Justin's.
Those moments giggling with a naked Geoffrey as the housekeeper scolded them
had been all youthful naivety. Friends enjoying themselves, too innocent to
make deeper connections as they laughed at the other's scrawny form and
impatiently squirmed while clothes were pulled on their bodies, absorbed in
anticipating jam and cream on freshly baked scones. But as he matured, wanting
to see a man naked became a familiar sensation for Justin. In the summer, he
frequently dallied at his father's stables, chatting up the stable boys, hoping
one of them would take off his shirt while he worked in the heat. His mother
encouraged his interest in art and drawing, taking him to London's finest
museums, where he studied the marble works of art with fascination for hours
and hours until his mother grew impatient. Convinced that he was well on his
way to becoming a great artist, she finally stopped chaperoning him, unable to
tolerate the long hours.
Even to himself, Justin couldn't fully articulate why he wanted to see a man's
body, why he often found himself squirming in his bed, stroking himself,
aroused at the mental images of the deities of the Greeks and Romans captured
forever as exquisite statues, rippling muscles preserved for eternity in
polished marble. He couldn't even explain what he wanted to do with another
man, other than a vague desire to kiss and caress and touch. As the only son of
a relatively wealthy family, Justin's adolescence had been mostly happy, but
the feelings of uncertainty had slowly grown, consuming him with confusion,
knowing he was different, but being unable to discuss those feelings with
anyone.
But as Brian Kinney, an Earl, a lord of the realm, and a god of physical
perfection that outshone even the most majestic works of the Italian
Renaissance bared himself for Justin's pleasure, Justin knew that he had found
the man who would explain everything to him. Brian would show him how to
release these feelings. Brian would be his guide, his teacher, his lover.
Brian released the tie from his hair, the long brown hair with golden
highlights falling to his shoulders. His body was sheer beauty, his muscles
well-defined, his skin smooth. He placed his hands on his hips, canting one
slightly to the side. "Well?"
That one word broke Justin from his spellbound rapture. He copied Brian,
pushing his own jacket off, letting it drop to the floor, but he couldn't wait
long enough to remove the rest of his clothes. Couldn't wait for a taste of
those lips, to be caught in those strong arms, and held close to that handsome
face and strong body. He rubbed his clothed body against Brian's satiny flesh,
his hands frantically roaming over the supple muscles of Brian's back as Brian
devoured his lips.
Brian shoved him away and Justin froze for a second, suddenly petrified he'd
misunderstood, before he realized Brian was pushing him toward the bed and
ripping at his clothes. As he fell onto the bed, Brian's larger body pinning
him down, stealing his lips again, Justin was the happiest he had ever been in
his life. All the answers to the questions he didn't even know how to ask were
finally going to be his.
********
The unaccustomed sensation of a warm body next to his woke Brian and for a
moment he couldn't think who it could be. He didn't sleep with Lindsay. Both
had entered marriage with their eyes open. Brian's family line must continue;
Lindsay wanted to avoid being the spinster in her brother's household. Her
background and wealth were respectable and most importantly, she didn't expect
him to fawn over her. Neither was romantically attracted to the other but sex
was reasonably enjoyable and necessary for conceiving Gus. In a year or two,
they would have sex again. Brian understood the need for 'an heir and a spare,'
having been the spare himself until his brother broke his neck in an
unfortunate accident. But he always went back to his own bed afterward, not
caring if Melanie filled his place.
Snuggling and cuddling made Brian vaguely uncomfortable. Affection had not been
a strong element of his relationship with his parents. His mother had hugged
him every year or so and his father pounded him on the back once or twice
during his lifetime. His brother had been the most affectionate member of the
family, often teasing him and ruffling his hair. Then he died, leaving Brian to
finish growing up alone, missing that supportive presence. Curling up after sex
always made him feel as if there was commitment involved, as if the act had
meant more than physical enjoyment, and Brian wasn't into games of pretense.
Sex was sex. It was fun and then it was over.
He surprised himself by not immediately detaching himself and pushing the
encroaching body away. For once, it felt good to hold someone. Long legs were
trapped between his own, an arm lay across his chest, and a blond head was
cradled on his shoulder. Blond. Oh yes, Jason. No, that wasn't right. Crispin?
Christian? Justin. Justin Taylor. One of the few virgins he had the privilege
to deflower. Privilege? Yes, even though the emotion was overly romantic, it
had been a privilege, to have been the first man to kiss Justin, to position
him with those lanky legs on Brian's shoulders, to see the dawning awareness
and understanding in those pale blue eyes as Brian penetrated him, taking it
slow out of consideration for his untouched status. The slowness made the
experience even more exquisite, letting Brian watch every nuance of expression
that crossed Justin's face as he learned what it was like to be taken by a man.
The grandfather clock chimed in the hall. They must have napped for several
hours and Brian's arm, trapped under Justin's body, was starting to fall
asleep. He slithered from under Justin, putting a pillow against the headboard
and resting his back on it. Justin murmured sleepily. Brian stroked the short
hair, encouraging Justin to fall back asleep with his head pillowed on Brian's
thigh.
Squashing the unexpected sentimentality he was feeling, Brian grinned savagely.
Justin was in a perfect position for what Brian wanted next. But first, his
mouth was dry. He pulled the covers up to his waist and tugged the bell rope.
Within seconds, the upstairs footman Steven entered the room, standing
respectfully in the doorway. "I think it's time for some dinner."
"Yes, my lord."
"And I'd like some brandy."
The footman crossed the room, picking up the decanter off the dresser and
pouring a snifter for Brian. Without conversation, he brought the snifter to
Brian and set it down on the nightstand, discreetly glancing to where Justin's
head formed a lump under the covers. Brian ignored the unspoken question. He
rather liked the idea of sharing one glass with Justin. "We'll need dinner. In
twenty minutes. Here. You can let my wife know I'll be occupied tonight. I'm
sure she won't mind eating alone with Melanie."
Clasping his hands behind his back, Steven gave a half-bow in response. "Yes,
my lord."
Brian didn't bother giving further instructions. The footman would explain his
desires to the cook and within twenty minutes a meal fit for nibbling with
fingers would appear. "And you'd better take care of that," he said, his
meaning clear.
Steven stiffened slightly, making the bulge in his breeches even more
noticeable. "Forgive me, my lord."
Brian waved a hand wearily. The months trapped in the country had been long and
tedious but perhaps making use of a servant had been unwise, even if he was
eager to be used. Still, for men who shared his inclinations, Brian considered
an erection a normal reaction to the sight of Brian's naked chest and another
naked man hidden under the covers. Brian couldn't blame him. The footman turned
sharply and left.
Taking a sip of the finest French brandy that was smuggled into England, Brian
tossed the covers down to his knees. Justin was awake, looking up at him. "Good
evening," the lad said calmly.
"And good evening to you too. Dinner will be coming soon."
"I heard." Justin started to move, meaning to sit up, but Brian pressed a hand
on his shoulder, keeping him in place. Justin didn't protest, expectantly
looking at his lover for further explanation.
"There's time for you to learn one more thing."
Licking his lips, Justin stared at Brian's cock, which was bringing to twitch
with life. "You mean?"
"Yes." Brian deliberately made himself remember tedious conversations with fat
matrons at boring dinner parties. He wanted this pleasure to last and was
finding himself too affected merely by Justin's wide-eyed gaze and open mouth.
Even as Justin asked, "What do I do?" he was rolling between Brian's legs,
angling his upper arms on Brian's thighs, his hands on Brian's hips, his lips a
mere breath away from Brian's cock.
"Lick it." Justin obeyed, his tongue wetly caressing the head, lingering in the
slit. "Kiss it." Soft lips pressed delicate kisses to the tip. "Lick it all."
The order was followed in excruciating detail, as Justin's tongue learned every
inch of Brian's cock. Brian sipped his brandy, the burning in his throat and
gut caused by the alcohol a pale reflection of the fire created by Justin's
tongue.
"Caress me. My thighs. My balls." Those slim fingers slid along the long
muscles of Brian's thighs, cupped his sack, rolled his balls. They could be the
fingers of an artist, Brian thought, sensitive and delicate yet strong. "Now
suck." It was the first order not instantly obeyed as Justin hesitated. Brian
ran a head through the short blond ruff. He wanted to see it grown out and
properly styled. "Suck."
"I'm not sure - "
The hesitation seemed more nervousness than disobedience, reminding Brian of
Justin's youth and inexperience. Maybe he needed more instruction and
encouragement. "Take my dick into your mouth. Swallow as much as you can. Suck.
Use your tongue. Not your teeth. I want to fuck your mouth."
The guidance reassured Justin and he resumed his task, opening his mouth wide,
taking first the flared head into his mouth, then swallowing the shaft until it
touched the back of his throat. He didn't understand how it could feel so good.
Brian's hand was only resting on his head. He wasn't kissing or touching
Justin. Still, Justin could feel Brian all over his body, as if the dick in his
mouth was possessing him, all of his senses concentrated on the substantial
length. His nipples tightened and his cock hardened as he bobbed his head up
and down. The action was his but it felt like Brian's, Brian fucking his mouth
as he'd fucked his ass earlier, Brian taking control, Brian owning Justin.
Brian was beginning to move now, his hips thrusting up, burying his dick even
deeper. Justin undulated on the bed, rubbing his cock on the sheets, trying to
relax his throat, at once proud of how much he could take and frustrated
because it wouldn't all fit. He wanted to please Brian in every way.
Even without swallowing the entire length, Brian's satisfied groans and moaned
encouragement reassured Justin that he was doing it decently, even if not
perfectly. He sucked as hard as he could, imagining Brian's cock buried so
completely in his body that they could never be separated. The sudden spurt of
warm liquid in his mouth surprised him but he recovered quickly, swallowing the
bitter-sweet taste as fast as he could. He could have wept as Brian's cock
slipped free of his mouth but he had his seed to replace it. Rearing back on
his knees, he concentrated on drinking the remainder, his tongue flashing out
the catch the drips on his chin and cheeks.
Brian's smile was as lazy and pleased as Justin felt. At least, as lazy and
pleased as he could have felt if his own cock wasn't hard and ready. Brian
opened his arms and Justin scrambled into them, resting his head on Brian's
shoulder. "Did I do that right?"
The "Pretty good," was clearly teasing and the, "You'll get better," promised
Justin future opportunities to practice.
The knock on the door was discreet but firm. Brian pulled up the blankets, this
time covering them to their necks. Steven may know what Brian's bare chest
looked like but Brian wasn't going to give him the added visual treat of
Justin's creamy skin. Today it was only his.
"But I haven't - " Justin whispered frantically, his hardness on Brian's thigh
making his point.
"Later," Brian said, slapping Justin on the butt. "Anticipation is part of the
pleasure."
"Like the pain was?" Justin asked. His ass still ached from Brian's cock
plowing into him, but it was a good ache, a sensation that made him feel
powerful. Even when he didn't know what he was waiting for, he had yearned all
his life for that feeling, the knowledge that he could make a grown man tremble
and cry in unbearable ecstasy. He wanted to keep the physical pain as an
eternal reminder.
"Yes, like the pain was. I knew you'd be a good student."
"I have the best teacher." Justin risked initiating a kiss on Brian's mouth.
Brian responded, his tongue thrusting back aggressively before he pinched
Justin's nipple. Justin flinched back, a wavering cry of pleasure and pain
escaping. "Later, I said."
Justin tucked his head back on Brian's shoulder and Brian resettled the
blankets so that Justin was covered up to his chin. "Enter," he called.
Steven carried a dinner plate into the room, setting it down on the nightstand
and automatically refilling the snifter. "Will there be anything else?"
His staff was superbly trained. The plate was full of meat and cheese and
fruit, cut into easy bite-size pieces. Enough food to sustain their strength
but not enough to make them sluggish. And there was even a small bowl of
strawberries and clotted cream. The berries were a rarity at this time of year,
carefully grown in the estate's hothouse.
"You may go," he said, dismissing the footman from the room and his mind as he
pictured the end of the meal. The perfect dessert - strawberries and cream a la
Justin.
*******
His life was over, Justin decided moodily two weeks later. Over. He curled up
in the window seat in Brian's den, his arms wrapped around his legs as he
cradled them to his chest. A pistol would end this miserable existence. He
couldn't survive without Brian's presence, his touch, that sleepy smile after
they made love and Brian held him close. Even the days spent tramping around
the estate, overseeing the tenants, listening to Brian discuss being
responsible for hundreds of people were special memories to Justin, haunting
him with the loss of their time together.
Brian hadn't been smiling yesterday. His expression was an irritated frown as
he lectured Justin. 'What we've shared isn't love, it's sex. I told you that
the first morning.'
Well he had, the first morning they woke up together after an incredible
afternoon and night of loving and refreshing naps. Justin hadn't believed him.
Something so profound and moving couldn't be mere physical calisthenics.
'I have a wife and a son. The season is beginning and Lindsay wants to hold a
ball in honor Gus' birth. We have to go to London.' Justin began to protest but
Brian overrode him. 'And you are still recovering. You're supposed to stay in
the country another two weeks.'
'I want to be with you! I love you!'
Brian had seemed to relent for a brief moment, his expression softening as he
cupped Justin's face, 'And I've enjoyed being with you. But now it's over. I
have obligations and your mother wants you to stay in the fresh air.' He kissed
Justin, their lips gently meeting. 'Remember me in your dreams.'
Justin had followed Brian out to the drive, continuing to argue. He was
healthy, he could stay with Brian in London, they belonged together, he loved
Brian. Brian listened but didn't agree or argue, just supervised the loading of
the carriages. Between the luggage for Brian, Lindsay, Melanie, and Gus, one
carriage was completely filled with trunks and boxes. The housekeeper tucked
treats to sustain the passengers on their long journey into the other. Justin
kept his voice low but everyone understood the cause of the disagreement. The
servants averted their eyes as they scurried back and forth. Lindsay smiled
sympathetically and Melanie shook her head sadly.
The packing completed, Brian helped the women and his son into the carriage,
gave Justin one last hard kiss, and joined the other three, slamming the door
shut. The driver started the horses moving and short of throwing himself in
front of their hooves, Justin couldn't prevent himself from being abandoned.
His lips still tingled from that last kiss and Justin almost wished he had let
himself be trampled to death. At least death wouldn't be so incredibly bleak as
life without Brian.
The two of them were destined for each other. He could sense the connection
between Lindsay and Melanie. If they could be together and fulfill society's
expectations, why couldn't he and Brian?
Sighing, he uncurled himself and stood. Being in Brian's den wasn't filling the
emptiness in his soul. Furniture and books couldn't replace the man. He
strolled upstairs, heading for Brian's room. The footman was inside, polishing
the carved wood of the dresser. Justin leaned in the doorway watching him. It
was Steven, the footman that one time Brian had admitted fucking. Steven was
taller than Justin, his build more solid, with black hair and hazel eyes. Would
Brian have him again? Steven would always be here, waiting, any time Brian
wanted him. But Justin would return to his parents' house in London, hoping for
a glimpse of Brian and never knowing when he would have that treasure.
"I thought the maids were supposed to clean."
Steven jerked around in surprise, obviously not realizing that Justin was
watching him. "His lordship only likes certain people to clean his room." The
tone was deferential but the eyes were assessing.
"Really? Why?"
"It's the books. And his things. Didn't he show you?"
Admitting that Brian hadn't would reveal that there was something they didn't
share, and Justin was reluctant to confirm that deficiency in their
relationship. Only the consuming curiosity made him say, "Show me."
Steven didn't respond, standing there in the room with his hips resting against
the dresser, his expression judging.
Stepping in and shutting the door behind him, Justin demanded, "I'm a guest in
this house. His lordship said I was to receive every courtesy."
Despite all the hours spent in this room, the bookcase had escaped Justin's
notice. It was almost hidden behind the door and the dark wood blended into the
paneling on the walls. The bookcase was designed with special covers to keep
the books dust free, but rather than the glass that would normally be used so
the tomes could be admired, the covers were solid wood, hiding the bookcase's
contents. Steven flipped one open to reveal a neat line of well-read books.
"They're his private books. Filthy books." Steven trailed his fingers over the
bindings. "And there's some - toys."
"You can't read, can you."
"I can, a little. His lordship is a good master. He has all the servants and
estate children taught how to read and write. But I'm not allowed to touch
these, just polish the wood."
Justin reached down, curling his hand around Steven's cock, not surprised to
find it thickening. "He's had you, hasn't he."
His eyelids fluttering as Justin began stroking him, Steven admitted, "Yes,
once. But not like you. You had him for weeks."
The envy in Steven's voice filled Justin with a giddy pride. "What did he do?
Tell me."
"He wasn't dressed one morning when I brought his breakfast. He was late waking
up. He got out of bed, all nude like, and he caught me looking at him. I mean,
I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. I'd never seen anyone like
him."
The precisely formal accent used by all members of the staff was coarsening as
his words ran together. "I was embarrassed to be looking, even though it's no
secret what he likes. He's such a good master, everyone accepts it. We just
don't talk about it, though the housekeeper and some of the others don't like
it. But I had to look and he just smiled. He spread his arms wide, like he was
inviting me to look more."
Steven's breath hitched as Justin unconsciously tightened his grip. He didn't
like the thought that Brian had made that same gesture to someone else. Even
worse, a servant. Driven to learn more despite his jealousy, Justin loosened
his hold and nibbled at Steven's lips in apology. "What did he say?"
"He said, 'Do you like what you see?' And I said, 'It's not really my place, is
it?' But he just smiled and came close to me and buried his hand in my hair and
pushed me to the ground and said, 'Is your place here?' And I was right there,
with that cock of his inches from my face."
Justin sped his strokes, aroused himself, remembering the sweet pleasure to be
found on his knees in front of Brian. He moaned softly but Steven didn't need
any encouragement to keep recounting his tale. "I opened my mouth and took him.
Damn, he's big, isn’t he?"
"Huge," Justin agreed. "Why did you do?"
"I sucked. I took his big cock in my mouth and sucked him, trying to swallow it
all. It was so good." Steven's word lapsed into incoherent rambles as Justin
stroked him harder. "So good…so stiff…so big…I took and took…and then he fucked
me…oh god…fucked me…"
Steven was breathing harder and harder, rocking on his heels, one hand braced
on the bookcase. As Steven gave a last final moan, his organ pulsed in Justin's
hand, releasing his seed. Justin wanted to crow with heady delight. His hand
and Brian's image brought this man to climax. Even apart from each other, they
were strong together.
They both went silent as the door opened and the butler peered in. "Steven?
Where are you? I won't have you dawdling in his lordship's room. Oh, Master
Justin," he moderated the scolding tone on the last words.
Justin hastily withdrew his hand from Steven's breeches as the footman dropped
the hand holding the cleaning rag over his groin and blanked his face, the
ecstasy replaced by a bland mask. Aware that the butler could not find fault
with a guest, Justin was quick to speak. "It's my fault, Edgar, I was asking
Steven about things to do on the estate."
"Perhaps you should talk to the housekeeper or the estate manager, Master
Justin."
"Thank you for your suggestion, Edgar. You may go now."
They obeyed, leaving Justin behind in Brian's bedroom. He kicked the door shut
and raised his hand to his nose, taking a deep breath of Steven's smell. Tangy
and masculine, but not as powerful as Brian's, a fact that didn't surprise
Justin.
He scanned the books, reading the titles, before flipping open the other
covers. There were mostly books on the other shelves, but the bottom one held a
variety of objects, items shaped liked cocks and leather ties and other strange
things for which Justin couldn't figure out their purposes though his
imagination was stimulated by intriguing images.
Why hadn't Brian shown him these things? Read him these books? Was it because
Justin was enough, that the pleasure to be found in Justin's body satisfied
Brian without needing more? Or did he reserve these things for special lovers
and Justin didn't fit Brian's exceptionally high criteria? Was that why Brian
could so easily abandon him, because Justin was too ignorant and didn't please
him enough? Their time together flashed in his mind, a whirlwind of touching,
shivering, gasping, and hard fucking, the things Brian taught him and did to
him and made him do to Brian. If Brian hadn't shown him these things then it
was because Justin was enough. But, perhaps, not enough for forever?
He had two weeks left, two weeks on the sentence imposed by his physician and
which, short of walking back to London, he had no means to end. The time had
seemed interminably long but now he had a purpose to occupy his days. He would
read these books and explore these toys and prepare for his next meeting with
Brian, adding sophistication and knowledge to his arsenal. Locating Brian's
house in London shouldn't be hard to do. Even if he had to march up and pound
on the door, he would make a chance to confront Brian, to prove that he could
be the lover Brian deserved.
******
Rescue came sooner than Justin expected. He was snuggled in Brian's bed,
reading his books, as was his normal practice for the afternoon. The morning
had been spent riding and walking around the estates, the housekeeper having
taken a motherly interest in the young man and insisting that the fresh air and
exercise would restore his strength. She left him alone in the afternoon and
those precious hours he spent doing his research and plotting ways to win
Brian's heart.
He only grunted at the knock, irritated to be disturbed at a good passage. One
of the servants called out, "There's a visitor for you, sir. A young lady from
London."
"A young lady?"
"Yes, sir. She arrived in a carriage. Her name is Daphne Chanders."
Justin leapt out of bed and dressed with haste. Daphne was his dearest, oldest
friend. Their families lived on the same block and they'd often played as
children. Since their social position and wealth were reasonably well matched,
her title balancing his greater wealth, their parents hoped a romantic
relationship would develop between the two, but both Daphne and Justin realized
long ago that they were good friends, not lovers.
He took the stairs three at a time, earning a look of displeasure from the
butler as he reached the bottom, skidding as he dashed into the parlor.
"Daphne!"
"Justin!"
For a second, they were children again, and hugged each other tightly. Then the
formal manners drilled in by their tutors kicked in and they stepped back, she
to elaborately curtsey and he to bow so deeply his forehead almost touched the
floor. She giggled and he laughed as they stood straight and they dared another
hug before Justin guided her to the sofa by the fire, throwing a casual, "Tea
and scones, please," to Edgar.
"Thank you, I'm famished. It's such a long trip!"
"I'm so glad you came. Are you alone?"
"I'm going to enter society this year! My mother let my tutor go, but she's
hired me a companion. She was ill on the trip and the housekeeper took her to a
room to rest."
At this news, Justin looked at Daphne, really looked at her in a way he hadn't
for many years. She was a beautiful young woman, with her midnight black hair
and eyes and faintly olive skin. Though the family denied it, rumor insisted a
distant ancestor had married a gypsy, adding an exotic beauty to the family
heritage. Only a few months younger than Justin, she was already eager to
attend formal balls and dances, be introduced to eligible men and other young
maidens, hopefully to be engaged within a year, married within another year,
and if very lucky, a mother before she was 19. Daphne fairly glowed with
excitement, well pleased with her future.
Daphne would get what she wanted and be happy with her life because it fit
society's expectation while his mother tried to deny the truth about Justin by
confining him to the schoolroom. Justin firmed his lips. It wasn't fair and he
wouldn't accept it. He would plunge into society and he would get Brian, even
if it didn't conform to what was deemed to be his proper role in life. True
love had to mean more than mandates handed down by stuffy old cats. "Can you
take me back to London? Tomorrow?"
The abrupt request made Daphne blink. "But we've just arrived! My mother said I
could visit for a week, if it was fine with his lordship."
"Daphne, please," Justin clasped her slim hands in his own, "You have to help
me. Brian's already gone back to London. I must join him."
"Tell me."
Justin didn't hesitate to pour out his heart. He'd never talked to Daphne about
his strange feelings but now that Brian had taught him so much, he could
explain everything. She would understand and help him. After all, what else
were best friends for?
******
In his London townhouse, Brian concentrated as he tied the folds of his cravat.
The tailor had done his normally superior job, the new black breeches and
jacket clinging to his body like a second skin, the white shirt and socks in
stark contrast, the black shoes with tactful diamond buckles and the diamond
stickpin completing the ensemble. The material was silk and Brian loved the
feel of it caressing his skin, almost as sensual as Justin's touch.
Justin's touch. When did he begin measuring everything by its relation to that
young man? Life had been frantically busy since returning to London, re-opening
the townhouse, preparing for the party, consulting with his banker on his
investments, seeing his friends, visiting his clubs, getting new clothes
ordered. And yet, throughout the days, a memory of Justin would drift through
his mind. His smile, his laugh, a comment he made, the way his eyes shut and he
gasped when Brian entered him…
"Are you okay? You look so intent. I didn't realize tying a cravat was such
complicated business."
Lord Michael Novotny's beaming face appeared behind him in the mirror. Brian's
best friend since they were boys, Michael was allowed license to roam freely
through the house and often interrupted Brian at his dressing, being more
inclined to timeliness than his friend. He was not as rich as Brian, nor as
well titled or handsome, but Michael's honesty, openness, and loyalty endeared
him to Brian.
'Why should anything be wrong? I'm one of the richest men in the country. I
have a beautiful wife, an adorable son, the respect of my peers, and the
latitude to do almost anything I want. But what I really want I can't have. I
want Justin. I want him in my life, by my side, walking around the estate with
me, going out to parties with me. I want that utter trust and faith in someone
that Lindsay and Melanie share. I want someone who claims to love me, not just
my position.'
But he didn't say those things. Michael wouldn't understand. To Michael, Brian
was a god. He could see in his expression, hear it in the flattering phrases
Michael used when he talked about Brian to other people. The advantages of
being admired were outweighed by the disadvantage of not being able to be
truthful. Trying to talk to Michael would mean first breaking down Michael's
idealized perceptions of Brian's life, a chore Brian found impossible to
contemplate. Michael seemed to need Brian to be perfect and Brian refused to
hurt him by destroying his illusions.
To Justin, Brian was a god too. But one Justin naively believe he could have.
"Nothing," he said, clasping Michael's arms around him and hugging back,
determinedly pushing Justin out of his mind. "Nothing is wrong. And you would
understand how difficult tying a cravat is if you would try it." It was a
common joke between them that Michael was hopeless at fashion, leaving such
tasks to his valet, a servant that Brian finally insisted on personally
selecting and hiring after several of Michael's fashion disasters. "I'm glad
you arrived early."
"I wanted to see Gus before everyone else. He's adorable."
"Yes," Brian smiled fondly. "He takes after Lindsay."
"He looks like *you*," Michael objected, almost as Brian could have predicted.
"I'm so glad your mourning period is over and you are back from the country."
"That makes two of us. Now let me finish this." Michael released Brian at his
instruction, freeing the other man to finish the deft twists and turns that
made a length of white silk into a waterfall of beauty.
"There, you look perfect," Michael said, brushing at an invisible hair on
Brian's jacket to have an excuse to touch his broad shoulders. Like Brian, his
ensemble was black and white, the fashionable colors for male evening clothes.
But unlike Brian, Michael didn't carry himself with confidence and energy. His
good looks tended to be described more by comparison to puppy dogs than Greek
gods and lack of confidence always made him appear uneasy in his own skin.
Michael would never titillate society with a scandalous string of male lovers,
keeping his personal life carefully hidden from prying eyes. That course of
action was wisest for Michael; he didn't have Brian's title, wealth, or sheer
panache that made society tolerate his eccentricities.
Wisdom wouldn't stop Justin. Justin would insist on being at Brian's side as
firmly as Melanie stayed by Lindsay.
Brian sighed inside, wondering where that stupid idea originated. Trying to
have Justin in his life would be asking for his destruction. Closeness between
two women was unexceptional; many regarded women as frail creatures who clung
together for companionship and support. Two men would eventually be questioned
as suspect and driven from all polite society if they failed to modify their
behavior. Justin must be expunged from his brain and an evening of dancing and
drinking was a good way to start. "The other guests will be arriving soon.
Let's introduce Gus to society."
******
The majority of guests arrived unfashionably on time, everyone eager to see if
Brian and Lindsay's parties would be as renowned as Brian's exclusive soirees
for his bachelor friends had been in the past. The Earl and Countess didn't
disappoint immediate expectations, Brian's brunette handsomeness even more
striking next to Lindsay's slim figure, clothed in an sapphire blue ballgown,
her blond hair styled in a smooth chignon. Melanie disdained the pastels deemed
appropriate for her unmarried status, wearing a gown of emerald green as she
held Gus for all the arrivals to admire. Even Gus in his white lace gown and
cap cooperated with making a perfect impression, gurgling happily and waving
his tiny fists.
Perhaps playing the role of a married man wouldn't be completely horrible,
Brian decided, looking over the crowded ballroom. All of society's leaders were
present, satisfying his sense of pride, as well as much of the second strata of
society as could fit, ensuring a full house that would discuss this party for
weeks. The men wore elegant black and white, the maidens white and pastels, the
married ladies in richer colors. Emmett Honeycutt was the peacock in the crowd,
Brian thought almost fondly. Emmett's flamboyance could irritate Brian, but he
certainly helped to liven a party. In bright pink breeches and jacket with a
maroon waistcoat, Emmett could be easily spotted from any location in the room.
Emmett and Michael's mother Deborah, whose hair was dyed bright red and piled
six inches high on her head, her dress a yellow-gold more vibrant than the sun.
As the arrival of guests dwindled to an end, Gus began to fuss and Melanie
suggested she should return him to his bedroom while Brian escorted Lindsay
onto the floor to begin the dancing. He turned to Lindsay to take her hand as
his butler stepped forward to announce, "Lady Daphne Chanders and Mr. Justin
Taylor."
Brian glared momentarily at his butler. Justin wasn't on the guest list and he
didn't know a Daphne Chanders. Neither should have gotten past the front stoop.
The butler avoided his eyes. Then Brian saw Justin and found breathing
difficult, his chest compressed with unfamiliar longing. In casual clothes
designed for a juvenile, Justin was handsome. In formal evening clothes, he was
magnificent, the excellent cut of his attire displaying his slim young figure
to its best advantage.
The girl at his side clutched his arm nervously as they walked up to their
hosts. Brian couldn't say anything and it was left to Lindsay to break the
silence by stepping forward. "Mr. Taylor, it is so good to see you again."
"Your ladyship," Justin said politely, "this is my friend, Lady Daphne
Chanders."
Introductions were exchanged, Justin chucking Gus under the chin and proudly
announcing his responsibility for the name. He seemed impervious to Brian's
silence but Daphne kept shooting him surreptitious glances as she dutifully
admired the baby.
"Well, we must begin the dancing, mustn't we, dearest wife?" Brian clasped
Lindsay's elbow and swept her onto the dance floor with barely a glance at the
other three. Melanie left to take Gus upstairs.
Daphne's fingers digging into Justin's elbow made him wince as she hissed.
"This was insane!" Simple neighborhood proximity had brought them together as
children but it was their differences from others that united them as friends,
Daphne forced to suffer the whispered lies about her indecent ancestress,
Justin with his unearthly fey quality. However, sensing that a friend was
unique and having him confess to behavior so far outside her expectations had
thrown her completely off-kilter and she still couldn't accept she had allowed
herself to be dragged into this madness.
"I have to be here. I have to make him notice me."
"Oh he's noticed you alright - and my parents are going to kill both of us if
he ostracizes us from society! We've crashed an Earl's party!"
The two began drifting around the outside of the room, nodding and curtseying
politely as they exchanged hushed whispers. Justin was studying the crowd,
Brian's lessons on people and cynical view of society resounding in his memory.
Life was a game to be played for winning and Justin was going to stack the deck
in his favor. Men of their persuasion would be here, along with many young
maidens. Which would disturb Brian more, Justin attracting other men who could
do the same things to him that Brian had done, or engaging females who he might
openly romance? Justin needed an ace in the hole to capture Brian's attention.
"He won't," Justin replied with confidence. "Brian wouldn't hurt anyone
deliberately. He's too honest."
"He didn't even say hello! I don't even understand what you see in him. He's so
skinny! You could do better than him."
"There's no one better than Brian Kinney."
"So what are you going to do?" Daphne asked as they arrived at the punch table
and accepted glasses from a servant. Though she wouldn't admit it to Justin,
she was beginning to enjoy this daring escapade. Her parents would rage if they
learned of this night but it was exciting to be among all these grown-ups,
acting as one of them, taking her rightful place in society.
"Just what you suggested. Make him jealous."
Daphne could hardly believe Justin had taken her lighthearted comment
seriously. The advice was offered mainly in jest to calm Justin's erratic mood
as he alternated between mourning the loss of Brian and wildly pleading with
her to leap back into the carriage and head to London before her companion
could even recover from the trip. "But with who?"
Maybe several aces would be even better. "With anyone and everyone possible,"
Justin said grimly, giving Daphne a brief bow and heading straight for his
first target.
******
"Who is that fellow and what is he doing here?" Michael snapped at Brian as the
two of them sipped wine while taking a break from dancing.
"Who?" was Brian's idle response.
"You know who I mean! That boy. It's rumored he and the girl crashed the
party."
The boy in question was dancing, partnered to a beautiful strawberry blonde,
the daughter of a Count and rumored to have ten thousand pounds to her name.
"He didn't crash the party," Brian said calmly. "He's Jennifer Bettencourt's
son. Jennifer almost married my brother, if you will recall." Even as he
uttered the words, Brian screamed at himself to confirm the gossip. Justin and
Daphne were accepted only because everyone was dying with curiosity, sensing a
mystery in this unknown couple who arrived last. With a few sentences, Brian
could have them shunned forever.
Of course, he could have said, 'Get them out,' when they walked in and the
butler would have removed them immediately. Alfred might have pretended to be
oblivious, but he would never risk disobeying an absolute command.
"You didn't tell me he was on the guest list. Didn't Jennifer Bettencourt marry
out of society?"
"She's Jennifer Taylor now and yes, she married for money. We all do what we
must for the family fortunes. And I don't recall discussing the guest list with
you at all, Michael. Justin visited us in the country while recovering from an
illness. It was only natural he attend the party."
"Oh god, you've had him haven't you?"
Brian merely shot Michael a look but Michael understood.
"You have! He crashed this party to get close to you. He's not even
aristocracy! It's like - you're an actress and he's hanging around the stage
door." At Brian's scathing look, Michael relented, "Okay, that's a bad example.
But you know what I mean."
"He's aristocracy through his mother's line, Michael. I believe that I'll join
this dance." Brian handed him his glass and Michael took it, standing
helplessly with his hands full while Brian cut in, forcing one of the other
gentlemen to step to the side.
The pattern of the dance required little concentration. Even as the second son,
Brian received strict instruction in many subjects while young. No Kinney would
be allowed to disgrace the family by appearing incompetent at a social
function. Brian and his brother were taught to dance, sing, ride, hunt, shoot,
make polite conversation and bow elegantly. He knew this dance, including when
it would place him close to Justin.
A turn, two steps, and a foursome formed, the ladies curtseying as the men
bowed. 'The gazebo' Brian mouthed as they faced off.
Justin didn't reply merely turning to his partner, taking her hand and
strolling off to the music. The avoidance irritated Brian but he waited his
time. A few more beats of music, the lines of dancers crossed, and the foursome
joined together again. 'Midnight.'
A lavish repast would be served at midnight. Lindsay planned to take a break
and visit Gus; his absence would be attributed to the same reason. The men
faced their partners again, clasping both hands and dancing to the side. Brian
was amused to note how Justin's partner managed to twirl wildly enough her
skirts raised, flashing a discreet view of trim ankle.
As if a female limb could excite Justin's interest. Justin, who had seen,
caressed, and licked all of Brian's body. Unfortunately, he wasn't having any
more success at capturing Justin's attention than Miss Trim Ankle, whoever she
was. Lindsay had been in charge of the portion of the guest list that contained
all the most eligible young ladies.
The foursome united and this time Justin mouthed 'Daphne.'
Daphne? Oh yes, the girl he'd escorted. She was probably his dinner date. Brian
nodded, hoping Justin understood to leave it to him. He could find a way to
keep one little virgin occupied for a meal.
Michael could entertain Daphne while Brian was busy with Justin.
*******
Brian saw Justin slipping away but as host, required more time to establish an
exit. Michael wasn't happy, but his mother had immediately liked Daphne. His
last view of the party was Michael's reproachful glance as he filled plates for
the two women while they animatedly chattered at each other. Brian headed up
the front stairs, apparently seeking out Lindsay and Gus, but passed that
bedroom and went down the back stairs.
Justin was waiting when Brian reached the gazebo. There was little light in the
garden, only distant rays from the torches close to the house for guests who
wished to step outside and get a breath of cool air after dancing. The light
was enough for Brian to see Justin's shadowy figure, to see him lunge off the
bench toward Brian and catch a glimpse of that devastating smile before Justin
was in his arms, trying to kiss him. Brian pushed him away. This meeting was
intended not as an illicit rendezvous but to shake some sense into Justin's
blond head. No matter how much Brian liked to live his life as he saw fit, he
was conscious that an Earl was forgiven many indiscretions that would haunt a
trade baron's son the rest of his life. Money could buy many things, but not
everything.
He tried to speak, the cool, collected words that would convince Justin to stop
this madness. Or maybe the scathing, cutting words that would send Justin
flying back to his safe life. But Justin was nipping at his throat and the
words wouldn't come. He shoved Justin away again, determined to bring some
rationality to this meeting.
Then Justin dropped to his knees, nuzzling at Brian's groin and despite the
cold temperature that penetrated the thin silk of his clothes, Brian's body was
burning with fire. Would it be so very bad to succumb to his own wishes and
desires? To feel Justin's passion scorching him one more time?
Self-denial was not a prominent facet of Brian's character. He tugged awkwardly
at Justin's arms and the youth rose, perhaps understanding that Brian was no
longer protesting. They kissed, intensely and hotly, but only briefly before
Justin was back on his knees, burrowing his hands and mouth into Brian's
breeches, swallowing his cock as soon as it sprang free.
Brian stopped thinking and surrendered to sensation. Isolated in the garden,
there was only the two of them, Brian accepting what Justin wanted to give him.
Justin had been good as an eager beginner but now he was an expert, a veritable
master of pleasure. He knew what Brian liked, when to switch from gentle kisses
to hard sucking, when to stroke and how hard he should be, and he devoted
himself to the task with an enthusiasm and energy that was overwhelming.
'Practice makes perfect,' Brian thought wildly, remembering one of his tutor's
favorite maxims, and Justin certainly achieved perfection. His cock was
entirely within Justin's mouth, Justin's nose pressed against the crinkly hair
of his groin, Justin's throat massaging him as Brian was coming and coming,
strangled laughter ripping from his mouth.
Only his hands on Justin's shoulders kept Brian from collapsing to the ground.
The orgasm made his hands spasm, before clenching hard. Justin's hands caressed
his, the tenderness helping coax Brian down from that earth shattering ecstasy.
He could barely see Justin's smile as he waited for the plea, the request for
Brian to relent and the two of them to be together. But pleading wasn't in
Justin's plans. The younger man leaned forward and gave him a light kiss before
saying, "That was delicious."
'Delicious?' Brian wasn't sure whether to be flattered or annoyed as Justin
kept talking. "And now I think I'll go inside and meet Daphne for dinner. I've
heard you serve a fantastic meal." Another kiss and Justin said smugly, "Though
I think I've had the best dish in the house."
With that remark, Justin turned and strolled toward the lights and music,
leaving Brian standing, his breeches still undone and his cock exposed,
watching him as he returned to the party.
*******
One of the few times that Brian wished he could give a woman a big kiss
occurred at 3:00 that morning, when the Duchess of Gravestone announced loudly
that the party set the standard for the season that all other parties must
strive to surpass and that she was tired. She gathered her whey-faced daughter
to her and marched out grandly, the signal for the rest of the exodus.
The pretense of being a respectable Earl and devoted new father was wearing
thin and Brian was ready to escape the boring crowd. Lindsay, he decided
grimly, could attend the majority of parties with Melanie. He would make
whatever brief appearance was necessary before retreating to one of London's
exotic clubs that offered amusements more to his taste.
Spending the entire evening pretending Justin didn't affect him hadn't made the
affair easier. The young man seemed determined to charm every female, young and
old, eligible and taken, in the house. He had even managed to ferret out which
of Brian's friends shared his preferences. Emmett had been positively swooning
over Justin and even quiet Theodore was enraptured. Only Michael, loyal,
obstinate Michael, was impervious to Justin's charm.
Brian continued carefully ignoring Justin's whereabouts and maintained his
genial host facade as the guests trickled out, shaking hands, thanking everyone
for coming, devoutly hoping to see them again. Michael stepped closer and
whispered, "This is the last time Brian! The last time I’m helping you out."
Brian only shook his head in confusion as Michael's mother called from nearer
the door, "Michael, we're leaving!"
"The last time, Brian!" Michael affirmed before calling out, "Yes mother, I'm
coming."
Turning to the next guest, Brian ran through his list of stock phrases, smiling
until he feared his face would freeze in a permanent rictus of politeness. He
would talk to Michael tomorrow and find out what was bothering him.
Another hour passed before all the guests said their goodbyes, collected their
cloaks, and piled into their carriages. The servants were restoring the room to
rights, moving the furniture back into its proper place, picking up scattered
cups.
Clapping once to gain their attention, he said, "Bed, everyone." For a moment,
they all froze, disbelieving.
"But your lordship - "
"Everything will still be dirty in the morning, Alfred. And I intend to sleep
in. I suggest you do the same."
Alfred stiffened his spine, drawing himself up to his full height, half a head
shorter than Brian. "It would be inappropriate for us to rest with the house
unclean, your lordship."
The old man's unrelenting dedication to service almost made Brian laugh.
Perhaps his reluctant acceptance of the master's wild ways made him cling even
harder to establishing the perfect household. "Live dangerously, Alfred. Go to
bed. No," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he headed for the stairs,
"that's an order. All of you. Go. To. Bed."
And that would probably be the only time he would need to order a man to bed,
Brian mused. Usually it was sufficient to point the way. He opened his bedroom
door to find candles lit in his room and Justin sound asleep.
Well that explained where Justin disappeared to and what Michael was carping
about, undoubtedly the Lady Deborah insisted on escorting Daphne home. Order a
whole slew of servants to bed, order another man out of his bed. He shook
Justin's shoulder roughly. "Wake up."
Justin raised his head, opened his eyes blearily, and smiled before yawning,
turning over and falling back asleep. Tempted to shake him some more, Brian
reconsidered. The grooms would have gone to their beds once the last carriage
rolled away and he'd ordered the house servants to do the same. He could hardly
toss Justin out the door and let him wander London alone at night. Despite the
wealth and sophistication of many of its inhabitants, the city was dangerous.
Footpads prowled the streets, seeking easy targets. A young man in fancy
evening clothes would be mugged at the least, killed at the worst. Which meant
either waking someone to get a carriage or going out with him to find a cab.
And then what? Take him back to his mother or Daphne's just as dawn was
breaking?
Giving up, Brian stripped, dropping his clothes over a chair, and crawled into
bed. He could deal with Justin in the morning. As if sensing his warmth, Justin
rolled over, settling his head on Brian's shoulder and laying one arm over his
chest. It continually surprised Brian, how good it felt to have Justin sleeping
next to him.
He was asleep before he could wonder why.
*******
His first awareness was of gentle breath on his face. He opened one eye,
decided he could tolerate the light shining in from the windows, and opened the
other. Justin was facing him, his head on the other pillow, his arms tucked in
front of him, his knees touching Brian's. He wasn't snoring but his mouth was
slightly open as he breathed, emitting soft puffs of air.
Asleep, the muscles of his face relaxed, Justin looked even younger than usual.
Brian stroked his cheek with his index finger, marveling at the almost
invisible stubble. His own growth would be more noticeable, scratching anyone
he kissed. Justin's would be barely a sensual tingle.
Brian's finger trailed to Justin's lips, tracing them softly, lingering on the
slightly fuller lower lip. Justin's tongue darted out pulling Brian's finger
into his mouth. With his eyes still shut but mouth closed firmly, Justin sucked
on Brian's finger.
The pleasure shot straight from his finger through Brian's body and down to his
cock. He groaned, a sound he could swear caused the corners of Justin's lips to
curl up in a smile. Deciding to give as good as he was getting, Brian shifted,
half-covering Justin, forcing the youth onto his back. Justin's erection
stabbed his stomach, belying the sleepy pretense. Bracing himself on one elbow,
the other hand still caught in Justin's mouth, he began rocking, sliding his
body on Justin's, their cocks rubbing together.
The loving was lazy and relaxed, Brian nibbling at Justin's face, brushing his
stubble on Justin's smooth skin, marking it. Justin kept sucking fiercely on
Brian's finger even as his legs wrapped around Brian's hips, cradling the
larger body to his own. It was tamer than Brian's usual encounters, a peaceful
morning tenderness that allowed him to concentrate on Justin's face, watching
as the orgasm overtook Justin, his eyes flying open and widening, the gasping
forcing him to free Brian's finger, his lips trembling as he struggled to
breathe and finally came with a shout.
One thrust and another and Brian joined him, keeping his head up so Justin
could watch his expression, experience the same joy of seeing pleasure
fulfilled. He slumped heavily on Justin's slim form, crushing him, before
rolling them both over, Justin cradled in his arms.
"This has got to stop," he said, realizing his words would have more impact if
he could force himself to toss Justin out of the bed.
"Why? You're Lord Brian Kinney, you can do anything you want."
Forcing himself to be brutal, Brian said, "I've had you enough now. I have a
wife, a child, and plenty of other men to love. I'm not interested in a
commitment."
If Justin was hurt, it didn't show on his face. "You liked me enough in the
country. You liked being with me all day and all night."
"You were the only one around."
"No, I wasn't. There was Steven. And others who wanted you, who would have let
you have them." Snuggling close to whisper in Brian's ear, Justin said, "You
know what I want to do one day? I want to go back to your estate. I want to sit
in your leather chair. I want you to order Steven to suck me. And while he does
that, I want you to fuck him. He'll suck me and you'll fuck him. And then we'll
go to your bed and we'll make love. Because I know the difference between
loving and fucking. I love you and you love me and we're going to enjoy both
together for a long time." Justin bounded out of bed, picking up his clothes
and dressing with brisk motions.
Brian clenched his hands into fists, fighting to control the hardness created
by Justin's vivid image. When he was satisfied he wouldn't embarrass himself,
he sat up in bed, the covers bunched at his waist.
Justin was perched on the edge, putting on his silk socks. "I have to go. I
promised Daphne I wouldn't be too late."
"Justin, this isn't going to work."
With the arrogance of youth, he replied, "Yes it will." More determinedly, he
said, "I'm going to make it work."
"Maybe I don't want it to work."
"Yes, you do." Justin smiled, that smile that lit his face and the room with
it. "I'll see you soon."
And with that, Justin was gone, dashing out of the room.
Staring after the retreating figure Brian laughed, an honest laugh rather than
his normal ironic snicker, remembering that first morning he met Justin. He had
been feeling so old and settled down, a father, a husband, a respectable peer.
Then Justin appeared like a unexpected wild card in the deck and for a few
wonderful days, Brian understood what it would be like if he could have the
partner in life he wanted, someone who shared his interests and enthusiasms,
not just someone of the opposite gender for the purpose of making babies.
Buoyed by innocence and confidence, Justin believed they could have a real
long-term relationship, ignoring Lindsay, society's disapproval and his own
family's need for him to marry and have children. Unless he did something
drastic to squash Justin, Brian was going to find himself chased for the first
time, chased by someone with as much determination as himself. Sooner or later,
Justin would undoubtedly manage to cause a scandal and set all the tongues
wagging. It would be interesting to see if Justin's charm and money would gain
him as much forgiveness as Brian's title and money.
Michael would be beside himself.
Suddenly, Brian didn't feel old any more. He laughed again before sliding back
into bed and pulling the covers over him. There was time for another hour or
two of sleep before his valet woke him to dress for afternoon calls. He had a
feeling he would need to keep his strength up to play the new hand of this
game.
~ the end ~
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