In the end I just wanted to post it.. Iv dedicated this chapter to sjmpets who nudged gently and hinted carefully (hit me over the head, Debbie like and gave me a lovely present) that I get my ass in gear and so I sat said ass down and finished writing it. Iv been in a terrible mood and I hate to belong to the cliche of winter blues but so it was.
I had issues with the second part of this thing, the style, the flow, the content even.. The spy story line just isnt as fun to write as the sex one so I was feeling all blocked and useless.. Id really appreaciate ur thoughts on how it finally turned out... and ur lov and forgivness for having made u all wait.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Justin awoke up to the feeling of fingers softly stroking over his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and he saw a dark, hazy form sitting on the edge of Brian’s bed beside him. They drifted shut again and he sighed with the knowledge of his own comfortable safety. He leant into the touch and murmured faintly in acquiescence. He drifted lazily onto his back then bent his knees up and spread his thighs open to give Brian space to lay between them, which hopefully was the reason behind this slow awakening.
Justin felt perfectly warm and content at the thought of being taken; a hard, thick cock sliding into him and tearing him open from the inside out as Brian lazily fucked him while the sun rose outside, was quite appealing. He tilted his hips up at the thought and moaned, his cock filling and rising in reaction to his thoughts.
The soft chuckle which seemed to roll over his skin in lulling waves was not the response he had been expecting to his obvious invitation and he felt his body being pulled further towards consciousness. His eyes blinked open until they cleared and he could see Brian’s distinct features. His brow furrowed and he frowned, although his lover might have argued that it looked more like a pout.
Brian had been sitting beside Justin, watching him for some time with a half-smile tilting up the corners of his mouth. He was leaning towards him, as if only just managing to prevent himself from pressing the full length of his body against Justin’s sleep-warmed own.
But if he had done so he would have missed Justin’s eyes widening in confusion and the tension that seemed to slowly soak into his body as he noticed that Brian was strangely - fully dressed.
Justin rubbed his palms against his eyes in an attempt to clear the cobwebs which had so obviously clouded his visage but when he looked again Brian was still fully clothed. He turned onto his side and hitched his knees up so that his body was mostly wrapped around the base of Brian’s spine and hips.
Brian laid his hand on Justin’s head and began to stroke through his hair. He remained silent and studious.
Finally, clearing his throat, his voice breathless with sleep, he spoke. “Why?” He frowned, nose wrinkling in a way Brian found rather endearing.
Brian seemed to hesitate before replying in his familiar, direct way. “Justin, I have to leave.”
Justin struggled weakly to sit up but a firm palm planted on his chest pinned him down.
“I'm awake.” He tried to sound convincingly alert. “I can meet you in the stables if you give me ten minutes to wash and dress. Are we going into the village to pick out those…?”
Brian interrupted him, “No, I mean… I’m leaving. Leaving here, this place. I’m going back to London.”
He spoke softly, regretfully and Justin’s eyes shut in an attempt to hide his initial reaction on hearing those words. They had a very immediate, wakening effect on him. Justin grabbed at the fingers that were stroking over his chest in an attempt to placate him.
“But… I thought we would have more time… I wanted more time with you.” Justin spoke urgently and his arms reached out to capture a part of Brian in the hopes of drawing him down towards him. Brian avoided his touch, catching his hand and threading their fingers together.
“And you shall get it.” Brian reassured, “Alasdair and I made a connection and we must go back to weed it out. If we are right then this war will be well and truly over and I'll be able to spend all the time I posses with… Gus… and the estate. I'll be able to supervise in a closer more direct, sort of way… with instructions, to the land and …..earth-planting type things.” he nodded as if he were quite impressed that he had managed to complete that sentence.
Justin managed to conjure up a smile, “You don’t need an excuse to be here with me.” he stated as if he had seen straight through Brian’s muddle of words to their true intention.
Brian rolled his eyes and kept silent, watching as Justin sat up and wrapped his arms round his neck so that he could whisper into his ear, as if he were sharing some great secret.
“The earth and plants follow my orders very well and they do not require your instructions on how to grow. They’ve been managing without you for several centuries. They don’t need you. I, on the other hand, can't do without you, so hurry back to me.”
Brian turned his head and pressed his lips to Justin’s for a second before he seemed to hesitate and pulled back with noticeably-affected confusion.
“If I am not needed to direct the wind and rain whatever shall I do while I am here and you are out, purporting to do just that?”
“I am not God, Brian. Though I can understand how it is you came to make such an easy mistake.”
Brian snorted and waited for Justin to continue.
“While you take residence in your country estate you are expected to lead a life of leisure.” Justin stated pompously while slowly stroking over Brian’s scalp, his dark hair threading through his fingers, a contrast with his pale fingers.
“Is that so?” Brian’s eyebrow arched.
Justin nodded, smiling brightly, “I'll expect you to wait, in this bed, naked every evening for me to return from a sweaty days’ work in the fields, my love. After all, I shall have overseen the work, the profits of which will go to provide you with the pretty clothes and ornaments that a man of leisure requires to decorate himself so as to present himself for the viewing of others. Emeralds will do you well; bring out the colour in your eyes. A perfect reward for waiting so patiently on me to...”
Brian pushed him firmly on to his back. He straddled his body, which was so artfully covered in bed clothes - for the sole purpose of tormenting him, he imagined.
Justin’s laughter bubbled up as he fought pathetically to free himself from his new, and very well-loved confinement “I was wondering how long you would let me continue before you stopped me.” Justin tilted his hips up, nudging up against Brian’s ass. “I'm so glad you decided to do so in such a physical way.”
Brian covered Justin’s mouth with his palm, smiling.
“You’d make a simpering mistress out of me?” he questioned demandingly, single eyebrow arched again. Justin nodded his reply, eyes dancing with amusement.
Brian huffed in mock annoyance but removed his palm from over Justin’s lips. He moaned and felt his cock begin to perk up as Justin’s tongue swept over them and they glistened, temptingly.
“You are… the most…” Brian couldn’t find words sufficiently capable of expressing what he thought so he shook his head and stuck his tongue in his cheek as he examined the perfect face that stared up at him.
“I know that similar thoughts have occurred to you. I'm only returning the favour.” Justin stated impertinently.
Brian’s eyes widened.
“It was for barely a second,” he denied quickly “before the thoughts of all the terrible things you would do to me if you ever found out I'd dared to form such thoughts, forced me to erase such a pretty picture from my head.” He paused, “But that is immaterial; I contemplated, you have uttered it out loud which is a far more serious offence.”
“Then what is my punishment?” Justin’s voice was husky and breathless with need.
Brian froze, his body’s every sense suddenly drowning in the images that flooded over him. He whined painfully, his fingers digging roughly into Justin’s shoulders before he glanced sharply back to Justin’s face. But Justin seemed quite oblivious to the effect his question had on his lover. He laid his hand over Brian’s thigh and looked at him with a heated gaze.
Brian cleared his throat awkwardly and quickly slid off Justin’s body to take his position at the edge of the bed again. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to will away his erection.
Justin sat up, crossing his legs under him, sheets still draped over his hips and leant back against the headboard behind him.
Brian cleared his throat and without turning to face Justin he said, “I have a present I have been meaning to give you.”
“A present? For me?” Justin’s face brightened with excitement.
Taken aback by the delighted face Brian quickly replied. “Yes but it’s not... a present for... you. Well, yes it’s for you but not… It was for you… and I.” he rolled his eyes at his own stutterings and started again, “I didn’t know I was leaving and I’d meant that we would have, both...”
“Brian, what…?” Justin’s eyes glowed with amusement.
“It’s for your body!” Brian stated finally.
“For my body?” Justin looked confused, his mind rapidly flicking though all the possible things that he could be given that he would classify as – for his body. He couldn’t really come up with much at all.
Collected again, comfortable with the return of his role as mentor and teacher Brian leant forward and pressed his lips against Justin’s ear, his palm covered Justin’s crotch and his voice lowered an octave. “So that your body will remember me even when I am not with you.”
Justin’s eyes widened and pulled back to study Brian’s face, “I… I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t think you would. That is why I had hoped I would be with you when I gave it to you.”
“You’re with me now.”
“Yes. But not for long enough. I can give you your present but I won't be with you while you… try it out.”
“I… still don’t know what it could be.” Justin murmured curiously.
“Well… that is, generally speaking, the nature of presents. You usually don’t know what it is until you open it.”
“Well then, give it to me so that I can find out.”
“It's on the desk in my study, inside the black bag tied with white ribbon.”
Justin made a movement as if he were about to get up to retrieve it but Brian quickly stopped him.
“You’re still not dressed. You’ll have to wait until I am gone.” Justin pouted and Brian grinned at him.
“I have written instructions, so you needn’t worry about knowing how to use it.” Brian continued and Justin’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You think I shall need instructions to understand your present?”
Brian shut his eyes and couldn’t quite decide whether he would rather Justin recognize his present immediately or whether he’d prefer knowing that Justin was still that little bit innocent.
“Whether you do or do not - read them, for I enjoyed writing them.”
Justin studied him a moment, then his eyes narrowed, “It's something wicked isn’t it?” he finally stated, caught between excitement and amused exasperation.
“Hmmm.” Brian’s closed eyes and murmur of appreciation answered his question and he shook his head then knelt up on the mattress, inching forward so that he could feel the warmth of Brian’s body. He raised his hand and laid it on Brian’s cheek, turning it so that he could look into his face.
“I shall miss you. Hurry back to me.” he said finally.
Brian forced his lips over Justin’s mouth. Justin keened, low in his throat and let Brian push him on to his back. His lips parted immediately, begging for Brian to seek out every inch of him with his tongue. The need between them intensified and they pressed more firmly together, lips bruising and Justin’s hands rose to begin tearing at Brian’s clothes but before he touched Brian pulled away from him, eyes dark and glazed, lips wet and swollen.
Just tried to sit up, following Brian’s movement but Brian kept his distance. He licked his lips, savouring the moment.
“For a taste of you, alone, I would…” Brian took a deep breath closing his eyes before opening them again to flicker over Justin’s features as if to memorise them.
Justin stayed still, letting him imprint the feel of his skin, hair threaded through his fingers, colours of bruised lips and dark, heavy-lidded blue eyes; the sound of each breath tinged with the faint aroma of their urgent mating from the night before. It still clung to Justin and the sheets and pillows he lay upon. He let Brian absorb all this, let him so that he could take it back to London with him, remember and have something to return to.
Brian licked over Justin’s full, lower lip, the last sense that remained to be committed to eternal remembrance, “I shall be with you by weeks’ end, if things go my way and they’ve never dared to do otherwise before.”
He stood and turned his back to him. Kneeling, Justin crawled over to the bedpost at the foot of the bed and lent against it, enveloped in a tangled array of sheets, watching as Brian tugged on his riding gear, his boots and lastly, swung his saddlebag over his shoulder.
He strode to the door and paused with his hand on the doorknob as if not quite sure whether he wanted to turn for one last glimpse of his lover before he left, or leave remembering that he last saw him on his back in their bed, marked in their combined scents.
His shoulders straightened, decision made. Justin smiled after him as the door shut behind him.
-------
It had not been as difficult as they had thought for the Prince’s Mistress to find herself in their care. Brian and Alasdair had arrived at the club at the same time - the only difference being that while everyone who cared was made well aware of Alasdair’s return, only a select few were conscious of the fact that Brian was also in residence.
The Prince was informed that their spy was in his circle of acquaintances but having discussed it with the other members of The Elite, Brian concluded that it would be best to leave him unaware of whom the specific person involved was.
They had begun immediately to tighten the net around their intended target. She was casually introduced to an elderly gentleman, a trusted advisor of the Prince and one of the men to which Brian reported. He had been more then willing to aid them. The Earl was rich and well connected, widowed for many years and the need for female companionship wasn’t unexpected.
They seemed to share an interest in books of a historical nature and he was often seen with the dark, enchanting beauty at his elbow in the preceding days. Her youth, eager ear and flirtations made him smile indulgently and she gloated at the power she had over lonely, old men.
***
It was a cold, dark and dreary day of the sort where it seemed always to be about to begin to rain in urgent sheets of water that left you soaked to the bone, skinned by the wind and took years off your life if you were ever caught in such a deluge.
Luckily, so far the heavens had yet to open although Jane was all too aware of the folly of the journey she had undertaken towards the village. It had become apparent all too soon that it would be an arduous excursion, though under better circumstances, on a summers’ day it would have been a rather pleasant walk.
The wind battered against her and at odd moments it demanded that she take a step back. It was mere force of will that drove her on. Her battle against the wind having taken on new dimensions, very similar to the battle she had fought against her conscience ever since her master had returned to Town a few days prior.
Her resolve only strengthened when she saw the house, sitting unconcerned at the heart of the multi-coloured pattern of fields. Her stride didn’t falter as she continued on her errand.
***
The Lady in question was drawn in like a lamb to slaughter. Brian enjoyed the whole process in a new rather wearied, unimpressed fashion which made him pause once or twice in contemplation, the loss of enthusiasm for what he did surprising him.
It took three days for the Lady to convince her new acquaintance that she could probably endure the ennui of a quick stop in St James’ Street for a moment to retrieve some papers and a most-favoured book.
It seemed that she was too confident of her own anonymity to concern herself with the risks of finding herself alone and defenceless at the core of her enemies’ headquarters.
It seemed that being a beautiful, simpering, brainless female had been sufficient cover to fool all her previous marks to date. As this same female she was “ignorantly” shown around a men’s club that was said to be the location for some undisclosed happenings to do with some network or other, belonging to a fraction of national security.
It seemed that the promise not to keep her waiting for too long, calling for some tea to warm her hands though it could take a while, (tea not being the beverage usually requested by the men at the club) and telling her to feel free to look through the many books that lined the walls of the room where she waited, was not enough to keep a lady entertained.
It seemed it was too much to ask an inquisitive Lady to remain where she was told.
But it wasn’t as if that wasn’t expected.
***
Jane hesitated before lifting the solid, brass knocker of the large front door. She had asked one of the other maids to watch Gus for her while she walked the countryside. The maid, a country lass, rosy-cheeked and eager to please had readily taken him into her arms, with the promise of giving her a few hours of freedom for the afternoon.
Jane had spent the last few days in a paradox of nervous tension. Struggling over her sense of duty and respect for her master, in opposition to her instinct as a woman that leaving a mother ignorant to the… situation a loved child found… themselves in… it went against her upbringing.
She did not know whether the… what she thought was happening between her Master and Justin was wrong, or evil, or simply not discussed in polite society in the same way that the happenings in the marriage bed were not discussed. But she did know that had she a child - a boy like Justin, that she would want to know, regardless of the consequences, if only to protect him from a man more powerful than himself. Had she a daughter even, the circumstances were hardly all that different in her eyes. An older, richer, wiser gentlemen could very easily seduce a body into doing wicked things. It wasn’t the innocents’ fault, it happened all the time.
Her mother had warned of just such a thing and she had been able to avoid the unwanted attentions of men who would think only of taking advantage of her innocence.
The resounding echo of her presence as the knocker dropped was snatched away by the wind. The inhabitants of the insulated house didn’t suffer the same obstacle and a parlour maid with sore feet got up from her comfortable seat in front of the large fireplace to walk down draughty halls to let in their guest.
It began to rain.
***
Brian had his back to the door of his study when it opened softly. He didn’t turn though he straightened to his full height as he heard the delicate breathing hitch for a moment. He smiled.
“We’ve been expecting you, My Lady. You are very welcome here.” He was impressed by her silence and he finally turned to see that Alasdair had his hand round her wrist and was guiding her into the room, towards a seat.
She looked furious, not pale with fear as he had expected but he supposed that fear of the circumstances she found herself in had not yet had time to make itself known. Anger gave her dark Mediterranean complexion a pretty flush.
“So? I thought we could begin here, to see how cooperative you are. Then I shall hand you over to someone big and uncouth so that they can show you to the quarters I have assigned to you for the duration of your stay.” He enlightened her.
She remained unmoving, stiff in the dark, high-backed chair Alasdair had led her to.
“Well, to begin with I could list your perceived crimes and you could contradict or correct me as you see fit.” He suggested.
She didn’t seem to be willing to share her thoughts over the matter.
“Well, if you don’t mind I'll start. I assume that killing me wasn’t your primary objective that first time, was it? Though I can't imagine you would have baulked, had such a calamity transpired. And killing Freddie Cullingham? Was that intentional or just a happy dividend of your exploration of the inside of my club?”
She looked at him resentfully but kept her mouth shut.
“Now that I mention it, why were you so eager to walk through the doors of this building a second time if you’d already been here?” he asked, curious as to what had tempted her to take such a foolish risk.
She tilted her chin up and Brian almost smiled, recognising that gesture for what it was. He’d had a lot of practice with that particular gesture lately.
“To sneak around in dark corners is… I have men who do that for me. It is beneath me.” she glared furiously. Her voice was cultured and precise, low and melodious and he could understand why a man might enjoy being seduced by a woman such as her. If you were into that sort of thing, that is.
“Beneath you?” He questioned, “Because you are a woman? Or because you are a spy? Or maybe it’s because you’re a courtesan. Forgive me for being incapable of perceiving the distinction.”
“Fils de Pute!” (Son of a bitch) she spat, finally riled enough to contribute to the conversation.
Brian held out a hand in submission. “Don’t worry on my account. You speak very good English, an indiscernible accent and I understand you perfectly. There’s no need for you to speak French. Although if you are feeling homesick at the moment I'm sure we can arrange that. Would you mind, Alasdair?”
Brian glanced at Alasdair who was standing directly behind the Lady’s chair, stiff and upright as suited a brainless guard. He rolled his eyes, undetected from his position at her back, as he replied.
“Not at all. My Lord.”
“So now that we have loosened your dulcet tones, let us begin in earnest. You can interrupt me whenever you feel the need… Well, you can… until you can't.” Brian smiled shrewdly.
***
Jane was led through gloomy, candle-lit hallways. The maid took her cloak and bonnet off her. She laughingly promised to set them in prime position in front of the fire so that they would be dry by the time she made her departure. They were soaked from her short confrontation with the elements while she waited for the front door to open.
She was given a moment to warm herself in front of the kitchen fire and she was grateful for the lull, the quiet moment she had to gather herself before she was introduced to the mistress of the house.
***
“…both ‘deaths’ were supposed to be diversions. You found it harder to get into the Club than you had anticipated, didn’t you?”
She nodded stiffly.
“So your first distraction failed… mostly.” He smirked lazily and rubbed his shoulder absent-mindedly. “…and the second distraction was late - though you shouldn’t think that I owe you thanks for taking the life of one of my men.” he threatened idly.
“Two incidents,” he continued, “To distract us while you planned and put into motion your final masterpiece. The Club would not have been concentrating on some unknown culmination… They would all have been looking for who to blame for the death of one of their colleagues and trying to work around the death… or as close to it as you could get, of their leader and Master of ceremonies, yours truly.” He didn’t even attempt to hide the disdain in his voice.
“My men would have been looking for retribution.” He continued, “They are a loyal bunch. I suppose you were counting on that. We wouldn’t have been expecting you while trying to dig out from under the chaos of your concoctions.”
She smiled slyly, rather impressed with her machinations.
“I don’t know why you’re pleased, My Lady. You failed.” He pointed out.
She didn’t allow his words to ruffle her countenance and she seemed suddenly to come into her own. Finally acclimatizing herself to the circumstances she found herself in, she relaxed from her stiff, upright position on the very hard and uncomfortable seat he had placed in front of his desk. Her spine curved and her shoulders dropped from their firm, straight-angled shape. She slouched comfortably into the hard seat as if she was sitting in the welcoming curve of an armchair, beside a fireplace with a book in her lap, instead of in front of her judge, jury and executioner.
Her head cocked, her features softened and Brian was almost curious as to what was coming next. He’d never before had to question a woman of her means before and couldn’t say whether she was capable of surprising him with a somewhat original reaction to her new, troubling… situation.
“Maybe I would be more inclined to share some information, if we found ourselves alone.” She hinted sweetly.
Nope. Definitely not original. Alasdair’s eyebrow arched impressively as he stood unseen behind their detainee. He looked expectant as if he was waiting naively and unknowing for Brian’s reply.
“There is nothing I'm interested in hearing that can't be heard by any other person that can be found in this room.” He stated calmly, relaxing into his seat.
His answer didn’t seem to surprise her, she carried on quite easily. “Your cousin’s agent was very forthcoming when I questioned him. I didn’t have to threaten him much at all.”
Well, actually that hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. She fell drastically in his estimation for whoring out information before trying to whore out her charms. In his opinion any information she had should have been last on the list of bargaining chips. He would have respected her more if she had sacrificed her pride and dignity before her mission.
“My cousin’s agent? What possible information could you have gleaned from him? My cousin is an idiot.”
“Your son is an interesting topic of conversation.” She hinted.
He snorted, “You’re threatening me? Please, as if you could get with an inch of my son. He is under guard.”
“Better guarded than the time your cousin tried to kidnap him.” She showed off her knowledge but he remained unimpressed.
“Tried, being the word of significance in that sentence. “Failed being the word you left out.” He pointed out.
Her eyes narrowed as she quickly tried to cover up her reaction with a bland smile.
***
“My Lady?” she curtsied as low as she could and heard the door click shut behind her.
“Yes, dear? Do I know you?”
“I… no. I just… I am Master Gus’s nurse. I… ” her voice dwindled into silence.
“Is there something you need from me, lass?”
“I thought it… I'm not sure whether…”
“Well, child?”
“There’s something I think you should know. That is… if I were a mother I would want someone to tell me. I am not sure if it is my place or if… I don’t know whether I…”
“Sit, child. Tell me what’s wrong.”
***
“You underestimate me, Brian.” His name slipped over her tongue like honey.
“Really? I doubt that, although I suppose daring to use my given name instead of my title does raise you an inch in my judgement of your courage and daring.”
He straightened his back languidly and tried to ease out the cricks. He was becoming bored with all this. He managed to talk himself out of rubbing his temples. He didn’t want to let her know he was getting a headache.
Her fingers clutched at the arms of her chair. She ignored his obvious disdain and Brian wasn’t sure whether that was supposed to impress him or just reaffirm his belief in her own incompetence. He couldn’t believe she had gone so long without getting caught. It should embarrass him.
“I have a man already in place, in the village of Ingstone, awaiting my orders.”
Brian barely tensed.
“So why is it that this fact should impress me?”
“The letter with the orders to proceed is written and sitting comfortably on a tray for the footman to send off in the morning.” She smiled, finally confident of her own entitlement.
Brian stood and placed his palms on the table in front of him, leaning forward to look into the eyes of the enemy that taunted him.
“You should know now, that no one has ever managed to lie to me. No one has ever succeeded to blind me to the true intent behind pretty words in futile attempts to disguise the truth. Actually I think it's what I am known for on the continent. But I think you would be better qualified to inform me whether that rumour is as well-used as I am told.”
She tilted her chin up, doubting him and didn’t back out of her threat so he continued.
“I can see inside your heart and eyes and know exactly the degree of truth in every honeyed word. Your letters are in your petticoat, sweetheart.” He spoke condescendingly, “Your fingers twitched and your eyes darted away from me for less then a second when you tried to convince me it was on a tray in your house.” Her eyes widened.
“It hardly matters either way since while you’ve sat here trying to convince me of your own superiority I've had men pillaging through your rooms, unconcerned whether or not their search can be detected.”
She paled a shade and her lips pursed thinly. Brian didn’t even feel like gloating. He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You shouldn’t have kept such a valuable piece of written correspondence on your person. Incompetence, My Lady. You weren’t expecting me to find you so soon were you? A mere man, it’s a pity that women of superior intelligence tend to elevate themselves to heights they are not accustomed to. They forget others already reside there.”
He sat again and cleared his throat.
“Now, I am glad we’ve gotten this politeness out of the way. It was getting tiring.”
“I can get you anything you want.” She finally begun grasping at straws. Her fingers rose to the décolletage of her dress which covered her cleavage but Brian stopped her.
“There’s nothing that you have that I want.” he said, pointedly.
She let her hands drop to her sides.
“I suspected as much.” She looked calm, “Your pretty pet was very beautiful. Slight and pale with blond hair and a complexion any woman would have envied.”
His eyebrow arched and he wondered how she would use this knowledge against him.
***
Jennifer Taylor sat for a very long time in her ever-darkening parlour after the young girl, Jane had left.
She hardly knew what to think.
Whether there was even anything to think about.
It was a ridiculous supposition and she wasn’t even sure whether there was anything to suppose over. What did it mean for a boy to creep into an older man’s room at night and stay there until morning?
What could it mean?
***
“I hear Lord Craven has a murderous craving for him and would like nothing more than to bring about your death. He will be a powerful ally to the French… and he sits very comfortably in a French prison, where you sent him to rot, just within my reach.
“I didn’t send him anywhere. I recommended that he be anywhere that was away from me. Obviously he thought France was far enough.” Brian replied. “And at the moment nothing is within your reach unless I choose to put it there.” He added.
She sniffed, annoyed at having her entrapment pointed out to her but she kept talking, which was beginning to frustrate him.
“I suppose that the implication that was spread like wildfire through the black net, that he was an English spy was just a coincidence then?” she teased darkly.
“I don’t believe in coincidences.” He stated, casually.
“No, I suppose in our profession it would be foolish to do so.” She agreed. “It matters not. My superiors will be made aware of his value soon.”
“What do I care whether he rots in a French jail or whether I pay a man to have him knifed in a dark alley in Lyon?” Brian snorted, unconcerned.
“We will use him.” she promised.
“Do so! I care not. Abuse him too while you’re at it… and don’t forget to put your nations’ youth in chastity belts to protect them from his violations.”
At this even she couldn’t hide the grimace of disgust from marring her face. She shrugged, unconcerned and the smiled winningly. She went in for the kill.
“If you keep me here, you’re right. I won't be able to send that letter that tells my man to harm your son… but I most definitely won't be able to send a new letter that tells him not to kill your lover.”
***
His mother had been very quiet throughout dinner. She seemed to be in a quandary of some sorts, indicated by the far-away look in her eye and her distracted attempts at conversation, which seemed to trail off pathetically, mid-way. He and Molly had shared a few looks and made thinly-veiled hints at old age and senility, to no apparent effect.
They were sitting in his mother’s private sitting-room. Molly was playing quietly with her dolls, occasionally putting them down to pick up the book that lay beside her. She would read a page, getting bored with it too soon, then putting it down again. She’d pick up her dolls once more so as to strip them down to their undergarments and redress them in a different gown or frock.
He had a book open in his lap and his eyes flickered from word to word, paragraph to paragraph and turned pages – unseeingly. In reality he was mentally opening the present that Brian had left for him before he had gone and wondering what it could be.
He had been inordinately busy since Brian had left him. He was trying to work himself in to the ground all day long so that he didn’t have time to miss him, ensuring that he fell into bed every night, exhausted.
During the day he played the delay gratification game, hoping to postpone the thrill of discovering what Brian’s treat for him was for as long as possible. Tonight though, tonight he would open it.
He glanced up wondering how early he could get away with going to bed.
His mother was staring out of the window, her sewing lay abandoned on her lap. He frowned, amused and wondered what she was looking at. It was dark. He couldn’t see anything beyond the window-box.
He stood and walked towards her, kissing her cheek. She startled then smiled up at him distractedly.
“I'm going to bed. I think you should too. You seem… tired.” He said.
She nodded and patted his cheek. She stood. “Yes. I think I shall.”
He stared after her and Molly and he shared a look, smiling. He went towards her. She held her hands out to him and he helped her off the ground laughing and led her off to her own room with his arm around her shoulder.
***
Brian slammed out of his study, Alasdair following him out and nodding to the man they had guarding her. He walked down the hall a few meters, before stopping, turning and slamming his fist into the wall.
“I want her finished! She has dared to put in jeopardy those I love and I won’t tolerate it. Let her be a message to any other who dares to cross me ever again.”
Alasdair’s eyes widened but he decided that at the moment it wouldn’t be a good time to point out Brian’s choice of words to him.
“What kind of message, Brian?” he questioned.
“Being a woman of means does not grant her extra mercy. A persons’ sex is not enough to excuse them from their wrongs and neither are their means. All people are judged the same in my eyes. Send me a child next if they want to cause me sleepless nights, for then at least I'll have cause to be troubled. Cock or pussy, it’s all the same to me if they are in need of punishment.” he paused, “In my bed that’s a different matter entirely.”
His weak attempt at indifference, fell far short of its’ mark and Alasdair nodded and went to give instructions to have her moved to her quarters. He left Brian staring blankly at the wall in front of him, lost in thought.
Brian stood still for a moment, motionless, breathless before he felt suddenly overwhelmed as if his heart had finally managed to fail him. His knees buckled and he fell towards the wall so that solid, immovable thing could support his weight for him. He leaned against it, head back and eyes closed, while he calmed his beating heart. Taking deep breaths he straightened, having managed to battle through the thoughts that had tried and so nearly succeeded to inundate him. With renewed purpose he headed down towards the stables and began shouting his orders.
A messenger horse was being saddled for him when Alasdair materialised at his shoulder. He had picked that particular horse because it was a horse trained for speed and endurance and he wanted to get to where he was going as soon as possible.
“You’re leaving now, then?”
“Yes” he replied simply.
“We could send someone else…”
Brian didn’t even let him finish the sentence. “No!”
Alasdair acquiesced quickly, unsurprised. “What should I do with…?”
Brian shut his eyes and clenched his fist in restrained fury. “What I told you to do”
Alasdair spoke slowly and easily, as if he were in someones’ sick room. “You were threatening to…?”
Brian turned to face him, “I thought you of all people, Alasdair, would be able to see the virtuosity of treating people of both sexes equally, without… prejudice, as it were.”
“Brian?” Alasdair placed a restraining hand lightly on his bicep.
He sighed, defeated. “Follow the usual procedure, as I know you will, regardless of what I tell you to do. I have a feeling she is not the top of the pyramid anyways.” He sighed, defeated but uncaring.
Alasdair let go of him, took a step back and nodded. It seemed that Brian had made his choice and the Kingdom had fallen short. Alasdair was going to be very busy for most of the rest of his life.
Brian swung a leg over the saddle took a deep breath and prepared for a long, hard journey.
“Brian?”
He looked down at him. “What, Alasdair?”
“Write! Once you know that all are safe and well.”
Brian paused a moment, eyes closing in an attempt to deflect the images that would flood his mind - Justin or Gus, in danger – if he let them.
“I will.”
***
Justin sat cross-legged on his bed, wearing only his linen shirt loosely over his body, a single candle to the small table by his bed which flickered impulsively, painting the walls with dark shadows. He settled comfortably back on to his pillows and began to pull at the white ribbon that kept his package together. He reached in and brought out a very elegant, long, black box. He set it across his knees, pushed everything else on the floor beside his bed and opened it.
He frowned.
Reaching inside he pulled out a polished rounded baton. It was hard and perfectly smooth to the touch, a beautiful colour - a sort of soft creamy-gold that got slowly darker. He examined both ends. One had a decorated carved handle and the other… he turned it in his hand.
His eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion.
He put it down on the bed in front of him quickly, staring at it as if it could do something unexpected. He remained wary as he reached in to the box again and retrieved the elegant envelope that Brian had lain under the object. He opened it, took out the letter and began to read.
His blush deepened with every word.
His cock hardened too.
He got a far-away look in his eyes and his hand drifted down to rest on his knee. His skin heated and eyes glazed and he seemed to lose himself inside his own head. Finally he jerked back to reality and he felt the… Ivory cock, roll over his sheets into the dip his body made in the mattress, to rest along his shin.
He looked at it, eyes tracing over its’ smooth surface, images flashing behind them. He bit his lip as his fingers drifted towards it and followed the same journey as his eyes had just done.
He curled his fingers around it and picked it up. They could wrap themselves round them easily but it was long, a good, eight inches if he could judge correctly. He pushed it through the ring of his fingers.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Obviously deciding to follow Brian’s instructions, taking a deep breath had been number one.
His fingers dipped in to the black box once more removing the last item, a beautifully carved glass vial, with some liquid inside. He removed the rest of the packaging from his bed. Glancing at the door to reassure himself that he had locked it, he lay back against his pillows.
He examined the hard length a bit more, deciding he was allowed to since apparently it would be inside him in a short while. The lighter end, which had given rise to his suspicion of what the thing was, had a hooded lip just like a mans’ sex did, Brian wrote that it would feel good as it rubbed him inside. He let out a shuddering breath and felt nervous.
He picked up the vial of oil and opening it let it drip over his hand. Pausing as if the decision to actually do this was being made, he finally wrapped his hand around the shaft and oiled it up. The sweet smell of almonds seemed to calm his beating heart. He held it in his left hand while he made sure three of his fingers were truly wet enough.
He put the oil away
He’d kept his shirt on in some deluded attempt at modesty. His right hand snuck under the hem to test the firmness of his cock and found there was little he could do with it by way of encouragement. He gave it two soft strokes, transferring some of the oil on his hand on to his skin and then his fingers fluttered down lower. Over his balls, along his perineum – then stopped wondering if he was doing this too quickly, too eagerly.
Deciding that no one would ever know one way or the other, he continued. He pushed one finger in first, then a second quickly after. He liked feeling the burn although Brian was usually very careful as to how he was stretched, too careful. Thinking of Brian made his heart beat louder.
He was on instruction number five now, or maybe six. The instructions were rather detailed, probably the most wicked part of Brian’s gift really - every wicked detail, in his beautiful, sharp penmanship, speaking to him and telling him how to pleasure himself.
Justin moaned and couldn’t decide whether to skip the step that told him to add his third finger and go straight to the one the told him to “slowly let the head of ivory pierce through the first ring of muscle – and I mean slowly Justin. Torture yourself with it, use this opportunity to practice your control – So, once you’ve let the head hover just inside the lips of your hole… remove it and wait a full minute before forcing the whole thing inside of you – Try not to scream when you do that, you don’t want to get caught, a ghrá.”(My Love)
He decided to follow Brian’s directions and a forced his third finger in quickly, to get this part out of the way. He thrust his hips down onto his hand and moaned deeply, eyes shut and mouth hanging open at the pleasure. He froze, listening, heart beating wildly and begging of all things holy that he hadn’t been heard.
After a minute of silence the blood rushed back into his head, his cock pulsed, the fright having done nothing to alleviate its’ stiff pleading and he switched the Ivory replica of that most-favoured organ over to his right hand.
He closed his eyes and pictured Brian between his legs. He felt the ghost of cold hardness over the skin of his ass, until he had it positioned between his ass cheeks. His hole pulsed, an echo of his heartbeat and he pushed in.
He trembled as he waited that minute, his chest heaving, his toes curling. His free left arm rose so that he could sink his teeth around his wrist in an attempt to silence himself. He had a feeling that the mere wickedness of the act he was performing would be enough to push him over the edge into orgasm.
He took a deep breath then thrust the entire length of golden ivory into his ass. He was thankful that his arm was in his mouth. He began push and pulling it out, the angle awkward and tiring for his arm and especially hard work if he tried to constantly hammer against his pleasure spot as he was doing.
But it was good.
So good, he moaned and whimpered and he wanted to beg to be allowed to cum. Most of all he wanted someone there with him to hear him beg.
He was tiring quickly, his prick just as hard as the ivory cock that was driving into his rectum, leaking onto his belly in gushing pulses, dark red and painful.
He tried to scrunch down, as if that would shorten the length of his back and he could have a better grip on the ivory, so that he could use more of his strength to force it into his ass. If Brian were with him as he should have been this would have felt better. It would have been deeper and harder and the lull of Brian’s voice would have encouraged him to open himself wider to its’ hard pounding.
Brian promised that he would - the night he got back. He would do this to him and before he let Justin cum he would have taken the ivory cock out of Justin’s hole and replaced it with his own. Replaced it with his heat, his width, his length, Brian’s hardness and rhythm, Brian’s weight on his body as he held Justin down and against him. It would be Brian driving him past coherence and Brian spilling his seed deep into his body as they both climaxed.
Justin tattooed his forearm with the arch of his teeth as he came, hearing the sounds of Brian’s panting and smelling the scent of their mating. He shuddered, head arched back, eyes closed and mouth clamped down on his skin to muffle his screaming pleasure.
It took him ten minutes to pace his breathing, a little longer to force his eyes open. His candle was almost out and instead of seeing the stark contrast between light and dark its’ glow had softened into soothing orange and burgundy tones which seemed to warm him and wrap him in comfort.
He sighed, sated and tried to stop himself from wishing Brian was with him so that they could convince each other to start again. Justin loved the feeling of Brian’s soft cock growing inside his battered and sensitive channel.
He clenched his muscles round the smooth, warm feeling inside of him. He curled his legs under himself and wriggled in under his bed covers. He blew out his candle and lay down.
He left the piece of ivory inside himself. Brian had written that he could.