Im still on Holiday but i felt bad for not updating for so long so Im stuck in a tiny internet cafe making this post...But dont worry I already have the next 2 chapters on my laptop and the first 3 of a new AU im writing Here is I wont get to any comments for a while but Id still love to have some ~*~*~*~*~ It was only his practised reflexes that stopped it from hitting him full square in the chest. He ducked into an alley gasping, eyes watering from the sting of pain. He tried breathing deeply knowing that he had to keep his head if he was to… actually keep his head. He tried to slow his heartbeat knowing that each pulse would pump blood out that much quicker. He raised his hand and pressed his fingers against the pain and drew them away holding his hand to the moonlight to see how much blood there was. He fell back against the wall knew that barely a minute had passed and that he should leave as quickly as possibly before who ever it was had time to reload his pistol. Who ever it was had good aim and he was unwilling to test it by leaving him with an easy target. Brian took a deep breath and crept out of the shadows. His instincts told he was alone now but he was unwilling to trust them to that extent. He moved carefully but as quickly as possible, trying to remain mostly in the shadows. The night was silent with only the muted noises of a city reading itself for bed. Brian felt a little dizzy by the time he reached his front door. As he turned the handle he felt Jenkins opening it from the inside. The man always knew when someone was at the door and for once Brian was amazingly grateful. He stood as straight as he could as he walked in but Jenkins noticed the pallor of his skin and eyed him carefully eyes widening when he saw the dark stain of blood. “I need a message sent to the club, for Sir Alasdair. Tell him someone was lying in waiting for me, that I shall live and be up on the morrow. So he knows it's not serious.” He worked it all out as he spoke. “Then you should send for the doctor. I shall go to my chambers.” “My Lord, you shouldn’t be alone.” “I doubt I will be Jenkins.” Brian’s raised brow and meaningful look told Jenkins what he meant by that. But the butler hardly reacted and turned away to send the footmen on their necessary errands. Brian shook his head and wondered how it was that Jenkins knew everything that went on under this roof. It was a good thing that Jenkins had been in the navy; one of the reasons Brian had taken him on when he came back. This house was more his than Brian’s. He entered his room and stumbled the last few steps until he sat on the bed trying to regain his breath. Now for the undressing part of this, it was always the hardest and most painful result of being shot. Especially when it was your shoulder, you couldn’t take your jacket off without moving your arm, Brian knew this from experience. He managed to detract his good arm but could not reach over to remove the sleeve from his hurt arm without bending it. He settled down for a moment to recuperate, he was sweating and he needed to collect his breath. When Justin walked into his own room, Brian watched as he removed his jacket and folded it over the back of a chair. He was folding up the sleeves of his shirt to wash his face when he turned quickly to see whether Brian was in and smiled when he saw that he was. Justin walked over and his smile slowly slipped from his face as he got close enough to see Brian clearly. His room was in darkness for he hadn’t had the will to wander around lighting candles. “Brian are you ill?” he hurried forward to test his brow and then stepped back to look at Brian intently. Brian smiled tiredly. “Be a sweetheart and pull at my sleeve, would you?” Justin frowned and did as he was told, gasping as he saw the blood that stained his linen, “You are hurt.” Justin stated breathlessly. Brian seemed to find the energy to roll his eyes. “Come now, you think I am not aware of that. The linen shirt next.” Brian began to raise his arms when Justin stopped him. He seemed to have collected himself and spoke soothingly as if he was accustomed to helping in these sorts of situations. “No, here I'll do it. Do you mind if I rip it?” His fingers had already started to move towards the hole in his shirt before Brian had time to reply. The material was soaking in blood and Justin’s fingers stained as he ripped it. “Has the doctor been called?” he asked in that same comforting voice as if the only reason he asked was so that Brian, in working out the reply would distract himself from the pain. The sleeve was torn all the way round now and Justin pulled it away. He folded the material several times and pressed it against the wound to stop the blood flow. Brian raised his other arm helping Justin remove the rest of the ruined shirt and Justin repeated the action and motioned for Brian to hold the cloth in place as he begun to unlace his boots and remove the rest of his garments. Brian frowned at Justin’s almost detached and methodical process. As Justin began to push him up and back to the centre of the bed so that Brian could lay down Brian stopped him. “Justin, look at me… look at me.” Justin’s eyes flashed up to his and Brian could detect the fear hidden in their depths. “It's me. I am not a patient, just me. The doctor is coming, you shouldn’t worry.” He tried to console the boy but his pasty colouring and breathlessness did nothing to ease Justin’s fear. Justin nodded sharply and then closed his eyes, took a deep breath and gave him a wobbly smile, reconnecting with him. “Let me see.” He said softly but his eyes were not as distant as they had been, he was in the room with him so Brian allowed it. Removing the linen, which was slowly being dyed red, Justin’s fingers raised to wipe away some of the blood around the wound so as to better examine it. He tensed and his eyes darted up to meet Brian’s gaze. “This is a shot wound?” he stated rhetorically and cursed under his breath as he suddenly climbed on to the bed beside Brian. “You fool. You didn’t tell me.” Looking at Brian’s back and seeing the blood that had been slowly spilling down its length the entire time, marring its beauty. Justin pulled off his own shirt and wiped the blood away quickly pressing around the wound. “It's torn your skin and you’re bleeding but the shot is still in there.” Brian groaned knowing what that meant. “Are you sure the doctor comes?” he asked urgently as he pressed his own shirt, already stained in Brian’s blood, against his back. “Yes I am sure. Jenkins has sent for him.” He felt dizzy and he was sinking quickly. “Come here Brian, shuffle back.” Justin pilled the pillows up and lent back on them, Pulling Brian towards him. Brian swung his legs up and onto the bed, which took a huge effort on his part and he cursed his weakness, faintly as he lent back against Justin’s chest. Closing his eyes and breathing heavily as Justin stroked his temple and made sure both wounds had sufficient pressure. They remained in the same position until the doctor arrived. Justin whispered meaningless, soothing endearments, which made Brian smile lazily. Brian drifted in and out of… consciousness if you asked Justin, and sleep if anyone cared for his own opinion. The murmur of Justin’s voice was oddly comforting and if Brian had been in full possession of his wits he would have frowned and pulled away from the intimacy. Jenkins ushered the doctor in and Justin tensed and he wondered what everyone would think of their positions. The doctor barely noticed as he began bustling around and ordering the servants around for boiling water and a good bottle of Scotch. Jenkins met his gaze directly and openly and Justin sighed inwardly in relief. The doctor commended Justin for his quick actions and told him to remain where he was for it would be a good position with which to help the old man to manoeuvre Brian’s dead weight. Justin knelt up and braced Brian’s torso on his thighs, his head on his shoulder. The doctor poured alcohol over the red material that Justin had long been holding to the front of Brian’s shoulder, to soften the dried blood so that the material did not stick to Brian’s skin, as he pulled it away. It didn’t stop Brian from moaning, his eyes fluttered open and he looked at the doctor and smiled painfully. “The doc’s arrived to give me a dose of whiskey.” The doctor barely acknowledged his request as he examined the wound silently. He met Justin’s gaze, “Did it come out the back?” Justin shook his head, “No, it's torn the skin and he bleeds. One can nearly see it and I felt it, it shouldn’t be too difficult to remove. I didn’t want to risk causing him excess pain by doing it myself since I knew you were on your way.” The doctor nodded and smiled indulgingly at him then turned his attention to Brian. Suddenly and before Justin could stop him, the elderly man pressed his palm hard against Brian’s wound. Justin gasped and Brian cried out painfully before fainting. Staring up at the old man in horror, the old man shrugged and said, “It's better if he is unconscious. I can't give him alcohol for the pain for it thins the blood and Lord Talbot, though he keeps stoically silent, is a terrible fidget when I am tending to his wounds.” Justin relaxed and his mind started to wander exhaustedly as the doctor did as he was meant. Finishing with the front, cleaning and sewing the wound up, the old man asked Justin to support Brian’s body as he dug out the shot from the muscle of Brian’s shoulder and then repeated the process with his back. Once this was done the good doctor bandaged him up, strapping Brian’s left arm to his chest tightly so that it would be unmovable. Then both of them moved Brian until he lay in the centre of the bed, his head on a pillow. Jenkins waited patiently and took the bed cover, handing it to a maid who was waiting with clean replacements. It was after midnight when Brian rested peacefully and as the doctor washed his hands in the bowl in Brian’s room Justin hurried into his own chamber to do the same and put on a new shirt. He met the elderly man back by Brian’s bed where the doctor gave him instructions for Brian’s care and powders for the pain. After assuring the man that some one would remain with Brian, watching him all night he settled himself in the armchair, which had been moved to Brian’s bedside. Jenkins showed the man out. Jenkins returned once more, once the doctor had departed to assure Justin that he wouldn’t be returning to the room till the morrow and that he would give the rest of the servants the same instruction and if Master Taylor required any assistance throughout the night to ring the servants bell and he would be with him as soon as humanly possible. Justin smiled tiredly at the servant’s antics but the minute that door was closed Justin was undressed and on the bed next to Brian. Burrowing into the covers and creeping up to lay his head on the pillow alongside him, on the side furthest from his injury. It took Justin a while to fall asleep and he settled for stroking his fingers through the auburn hair and kissing the pulse in his neck. Ten or twenty minutes later he drifted off. ------ When Brian woke up Justin was still fast asleep, plastered to his side and every time he breathed Brian felt his hair ruffle. He moved the arm that was wrapped around Justin’s body to stroke his hip and Justin grumbled and tucked his face in to Brian’s neck. Brian shook his head and almost cried out, he settled for every muscle in his body tensing from the pain, which did nothing to ease the pain but instead made it worse. He closed his eyes and began to take stock of his injuries. He began from the bottom, from his toes until he reached his shoulder, which was definitely painful and his head, which throbbed, probably a side effect. He groaned and tried to imagine the pain leaving his body in lots of swirling colours. It made him dizzy, did nothing for the hurt and made Brian rethink waking Justin up being a good idea. It turned out not to be necessary for Justin began to stir. “Jesus, thank God. Pass me the whiskey.” Justin sat up rather quickly, rubbing his eyes and smiling. “You‘re up.” He bent over and pressed his lips against Brian’s. “I know it's morning and you’re hard and you want me to ease your need but for the love of God give me whiskey.” Justin pulled back, wide eyed. “It had nothing to do with my need. I’m just happy to see you alive and breathing.” Justin glared at him but he did so while gently tracing the features of Brian’s face as if to assure himself of the life that radiated from him still so Brian didn’t take him too seriously. “Justin… the whiskey.” Brian begged. “The doctor gave me something for the pain.” He said getting up and reaching for a glass of water. He opened a little bag of… “What is this?” “Smell it.” Brian said wincing as he hitched himself into a sitting position. Justin did so, cautiously and then looked up surprised, “Yes, you are giving me kitchen herbs to ease the pain in my shoulder. You’ll need boiling water if it's crushed leaves. Did he hand you the oil it’ll work faster and you won't have to call Jenkins.” “It's oregano?” “With a few extra spices. Just give me the bottle of whiskey, it's easier.” “No the doctor says it thins the blood, which means the wound won't close as quickly.” Brian stared at him intently but Justin didn’t flinch so he sighed, “Fine! There’s a bottle of the oil over there in that cabinet. Could you hurry now?” Justin smiled and quickly did his bidding. Pouring a few drops into the glass of water and watching while Brian downed the lot. Sighing and trying to get comfortable Brian peered down at himself, examining the bandages, which divided up his upper body. “This is not good timing. I hate it when men shoot you in the back with no warning.” Justin’s brow furrowed. “You were shot through the front.” He pointed out and Brian tried to glare. “That was not the point. The no warning was the important part of that sentence. It was dark and they were hidden, the equivalent of shooting a man in the back. One should always face ones opponent. Not scurry around in alleyways lying in wait but facing each other, hand to hand, steal on steal.” “But then they would lose.” Justin stated confused. “Justin!” Brian’s exasperation was obvious. “Well Brian, who was it who hurt you? It appears to me that they were shooting to kill and why risk surely dying, fighting you hand to hand when they can shoot you, with no risk to themselves and with a much higher chance of succeeding in their goal.” Brian did not know whether to laugh or cry and settled for sighing and counting backwards from ten. “Do you know who it is that meant you harm?” Justin continued, cautiously. “No one. It’s business.” Brian replied curtly. “You got shot by no one?” Justin was not amused “Justin, leave it.” Brian’s tone continued to be brisk. “Will the constabulary be coming to talk to you today?” Justin finally asked deciding to let it go for now. “No!” there was a long silence. “No? What do you mean by no?” Justin articulated carefully “Is it not blatantly obvious? I mean no!” Brian began to lose his patience “They have been told what happened, haven't they?” “No!” “Brian but… that means you are still in at risk of...” “Of dying? Everyone dies! It just seems that I am being constantly moved to the front of the queue and then… quite as swiftly I am returned to my starting position. So you shouldn’t worry about it.” Brian spoke bluntly then winced, it seems that the vigour of this conversation was not good for him. “What… what is it you do?” Justin blurted out after another long pause Brian sighed, “It is of no concern to you.” Justin moved to kneel beside him so that he could look directly into his face and spoke softly, “You wish me to trust you in exchange for half truths, Brian?” Brian hesitated “Justin, heed me when I tell you that it does not… I will not allow it to concern you.” Justin eyed him attentively, “Why?” “Why what?” Brian sighed “Why won't you allow it to concern me?” “I do not…” Justin interrupted “Is it too complicated? Is it wrong? Is it dangerous?” “Justin, there is very little in this world which you would fail to comprehend. I would never insult you by undermining you in that manner. Wrong… wrong is subjective. Wrong is… to most people what we do is wrong. Is it wrong when a starving child steals food to feed himself? Is it wrong when…” Justin interrupted again a small tight smile on his face. “How dangerous?” “I never said…” Justin stared at him intently and Brian stopped himself from continuing and shut his eyes. “Relatively dangerous.” “You can't tell me what it is.” It was a statement rather than a question and Brian knew that if Justin hadn’t already guessed to some degree, it wouldn’t be long until he had it figured out. After a while Brian’s eyes rose to look back at him, “Go dress so you can call for breakfast. You’re probably hungry by now.” Justin did as he was told. ------ It was early evening and Brian was very bored. The doctor had been and gone around lunchtime and reaffirmed the orders he had left with Justin the night before. Demanding a week of bed rest, lots of good food, lots of sleep and as few pain relievers as possible. He had slept most of the day and every time he woke up Justin was beside him. Messages had arrived from the club and Alasdair was trying to find out who had organised the shooting. It was harder than it seemed for Brian had many enemies. Justin had tried reading to him but Brian had stopped him after ten minutes stating that he was neither an invalid nor on his deathbed and until either of those days arose no one would read to him as if he was. Brian had managed to animate himself for forty minutes trying to test Justin’s prowess at cards but it seemed that cards was to active a game for him. For he kept trying to use both his arms and every time he tensed his arm to move it to do his bidding, pain would lance through him and he’d have to relearn how to breathe for the following minutes. In the end all the doors had to be opened for Brian needed to hear the noises of the house and not the silence of his sick bed. They both settled down to read silently. When the patter of tiny feet running towards them could be heard echoing down the hall they both looked up prepared for any distraction that might arise. The whispered entreaties to “Please come back,” where thankfully ignored for it seemed that Jane could not catch up to her charge before he had run into Justin’s room, shrieking freely. The little boy continued on the path of least resistance until he reached Brian’s chambers. Brain couldn’t stop himself from grinning as the boy ran. He was barely dressed and his damp hair flopped around as he laughed gaily, running away from his nurse. When he saw Justin he launched himself into his arms with the blind childish faith of someone who knew there would always be someone to catch him. Jane had stopped at Justin’s doorway, afraid to enter. Justin seemed just as thrilled with the distraction as Brian himself and giggled away playfully with the little boy, teasing and taunting him until he settled him down on his hip and walked back towards the door so Jane could see him. He gestured for her to step in, laughingly informing her that a bed ridden Lord was hardly a threat to her. She did as she was bid hesitantly and went no further than the door that separated their rooms. Hovering uncertainly, she begged forgiveness for allowing the toddler to escape her clutches trying hard to hide the smile of pride as she informed them that he had been much quicker than she had anticipated. Brian watched them with a hint of indulgence half mixed with envy. As Gus pulled at Justin’s hair and Justin smilingly untangled his fingers, berating him with a grin. As Brian watched Justin’s smile and then suddenly looking up their eyes met and Brian’s breath caught in his chest. Seeing something in Brian’s gaze, Justin walked towards him and placed Gus on the bed. Gus sat still, with his legs all crooked and his finger in his mouth inspecting him carefully. Suddenly grinning and gurgling nonsense Gus fell forward and began to crawl towards him. The quick sense of relief that flooded through him was inexplicable but Brian could not begin to deny that it was there. Justin smiled and seeing that both his charges were temporarily distracting each other turned towards Jane. Brian watched out of the corner of his eyes, as they seemed to confer together for a moment and when Jane left his brow furrowed in question. Justin returned to him and settled down on the bed beside him, Gus between them both. Gus was having an animated conversation, full of sounds and stuttered hand gestures while eyeing all the things that surrounded him. He was sitting by Brian’s waist and Brian’s hand was curled around his leg as he watched his son. Occasionally his fingers would move and brush the hair back from the small face, or grab hold of a tiny hand and play with his fingers and Gus would play this game which only he seemed to know the rules of. When Gus became distracted by the bandages which crossed Brian’s chest and crawled forward to kneel and tug at the white material Brian raised his arm and placed his hand on the child’s back and stroked it distractedly. “I forget sometimes that I have a child. I should spend more time with him but I am always so busy with work and Clara’s parties and… and you too I suppose. I might not always be here and I should spend as much time with him while I can.” Brian looked at the small boy in wonder, “But he is so small. So perfect and fragile… I feel rather large when I am near him.” Brian added mockingly in an attempt to distract from the rather more profound introspection. Justin smiled back at him easily, “Well I asked Jane and she has left him with us for a while. I told her I would put him to bed later after he had some time to play with his father. He’s just had his bath and he’ll get sleepy soon. Hopefully you’ll both tire yourselves out and therefore neither of you will be too much trouble for me.” It seemed that Justin’s prediction was quite sound. Half an hour later both his men were sleeping soundly, side by side and Justin marvelled at the beauty of it. The candles were still lit and he hurried to his rooms to fetch his drawing things. For he had an urgent need to capture this moment on paper. He shut and locked both doors which led into the hall way and settled into the large armchair which had been his seat for most of the day. After some time and when he was finally satisfied with the way his study had turned out he settled his things to the side and stilled, admiring for a moment. He should move Gus into his cot but he was reluctant to disturb this image of peace. It startled him when Brian spoke softly, “Are you finished then?” “Yes!” he smiled with the knowledge that Brian had been aware and had allowed him to draw him. “Come to bed.” Justin’s heart seemed to skip a beat and for a moment he felt an intense array of emotions that he did not know how to filter, joy and fear, panic and peace and a whole jumble of erratic feelings, each of them trying to force him to take notice. Just as suddenly they all disappeared and he could breathe again and he shrugged the feeling off and began to undress. He got into bed and hovered for a moment over Brian, whose good hand rose and tugged him down till their lips met in what Justin meant to be a light kiss. But Brian opened his mouth and Justin couldn’t resist letting his tongue dip in for a small taste, which became a longer, deeper taste, which made them both moan and Brian pant. Though if anyone had asked him Brian would have firmly denied it and Justin would have smiled benevolently and kept silent. Finally pulling back, both their eyes dark with their passion, Justin settled in alongside them. His head lay on the pillow beside Brian’s and Gus between them at their waists. It meant that Justin slept slightly diagonally so as not to accidentally roll over the child during the night but he didn’t care. ------- It was almost a week later. A week of tedium, a week with only three moments where Justin had given in, after much pressure and finally pleasured him orally. Alasdair had visited twice to inform him what was going on at the club and with their investigation. Actually he showed up to bemoan the fact that this attack seemed to barely have caused a ripple in the world of unscrupulous beings they generally hung around. No one was gloating or openly boasting about the fact that they had brought the English spymaster himself to his knees. It had been spread around that Brian had been in a duel with the husband of one of his mistresses and it seemed everyone believed it. Which was strange in and of itself. His opponent had died bravely and was spoken of with admiration for no one had ever duelled the Baron Talbot of Malahide and actually hit their target. Brian was thoroughly put out by the fact that they had come up with a story that so besmirched his pristine record of invincibility. But Alasdair had laughed at him and apologised continuously about having to hurt his pride. ‘Til Brian had threatened to have him killed. Though the threat was somewhat effective, there was nothing Brian could say that would erase the small, all-knowing smile from the other man’s face. Well, all this was to say that as far as the French were concerned they believed that Brian had been caught up in a love triangle and that was that. Brian had a deep-rooted mistrust of spies who believed what they were told. Brian had been allowed out of bed for the last three days. It had taken some hours of the early morning but Brian had managed to convince Justin that he was recuperated enough for slightly more vigorous sort of mating, which he had eagerly anticipated most of the day. Until he noticed and spent the rest of his afternoon berating himself for being so keen about anything and cursing his shoulder for turning him weak and insufferable. With Justin’s help he had managed to dress himself for the afternoon. The enterprise had been interspersed with more than a few bouts of cursing while Justin kept his mouth carefully shut and looked understanding, which incidentally did nothing to improve Brian’s mood. But he had wanted to eat dinner at an actual table so he had insisted. It was dark before Justin came to his bed. He had helped Jane put Gus to bed after all three of them had spent an hour or so downstairs in the parlour, whiling away some of the early evening. Waking up with both Justin and Gus in his bed that second night, earlier in the week had given him the strangest feeling of being truly at peace. He had never felt content before. As a child his first memories were of hunger, his parents fighting over money, over cheap whiskey, too many younger siblings being born and dying, the deterioration of both his house and his parents due to neglect, age and the effects of the drink. Later, once Robert had taken him away he remembered work and constant activity. Even his games were a different sort of study. He had had tutors, riding instructor’s, fencing masters, he had learnt how to play cards, how to lie effectively, how to detach himself from what he was feeling, which turned out to be useful in case he was questioned by the enemy. From the age of eight to eighteen he had studied hard to become a worthy successor to the Talbot position and Talbot name. He was not meant for the field but Robert held that a man, a leader could never ask his men to risk their lives for him if he would not willing do so himself. Later in life he had put his education to work he had done anything and everything for the safety of this country that had adopted him. He was always aware of his surroundings, always aware that he was never truly safe. He slept lightly. It was an instinct one that even sleeping with Justin had not erased. Although to his surprise his new bed-mate had banished a few of his more persistent demons. This night, Brian dozed lightly while waiting for the expected dose of pleasure, which would hopefully tire him out enough to sleep. Justin had entered his room naked, his genitals already dark and erect as if the anticipation alone was enough to drive him to completion. He had crawled over the bed until he reached Brian and had straddled his waist. “Where is the oil you use… to soften me?” Brian had looked at him then smiled wickedly. “Turn around.” He had placed his good hand on Justin’s hip and urged him to turn his back to him, which Justin had done so, reluctantly muttering over having to satisfy the whims of a delirious wounded nobility. Brian had ignored him and pulled him back, towards his face and had spread his cheeks open, as much as he could with one hand and thrust his tongue inside of him without much ado. Justin had fallen forward, bracing himself on Brian’s knees and bending down further making it easier for Brian to lick his hole. It hadn’t taken very long for Brian to have Justin stretched, panting and at his mercy. Turning back, Justin had quickly taken Brian’s cock and sat down on it. Gasping at the pain and pleasure of it, eyes closed, a look of profound ecstasy on his face. Brian had watched him through barely opened eyes as he raised and lowered himself. Justin had spent long slow minutes experiencing the sensation of being split open again, his thrusts slow and leisurely as Brian had filled him over and over and over. By the time Justin had had enough of his own brand of torture mixed with pleasure they had both been covered in sweat, Justin’s muscles had quivered from the exertion and delirious pleasure. This slow form of torment had not been what he had had in mind for his night-time entertainment. But Brian’s movements were so severely limited that he was totally dependent on Justin’s whim for his pleasure. Even the slightest thrust, or movement with his hips jolted the arm that was strapped to his body and sent pain shooting through his shoulder. So Brian remained immobile with only one hand on Justin’s hip to help guide him if the necessity arose. To Justin’s immense satisfaction, it appeared. For he had whispered beseechingly in his ears, throughout – that having Brian prone and reliant on him for his pleasure made him hot and urgent and he didn’t know how long he could take this because he missed it. After a week, he missed having Brian inside of him. Missed the force and vigour of being taken, of being filled to capacity, of being helpless. He had then wrapped his fingers round his own cock and slowly begun to pull and stroke himself to climax. And Brian had been unable to stop his body from convulsing, groaning as he spent his seed deep inside of Justin the pain in his shoulder a vague afterthought as he lost himself within the aftershocks of his release. Justin had followed soon after the sensation of Brian’s hot essence shooting into him and his own hips thrusting down repeatedly so that Brian’s cock kept an unrelenting pressure on his sweet spot, too much and Justin barely caught himself as he collapsed onto Brian. But he did stop himself before he fell and at Brian’s gentle insistence let himself down softly and closed his eyes, sighing. Brian had remained awake for sometime afterwards, absently pondering the fact that his dressing seemed to have absorbed most of Justin’s issue. He had been sleeping too much so that when it came time to actually sleep he found that he couldn’t. Justin did not have that problem. He dozed off still lying on top of Brian with his ass still full of Brian and his cum. It was a few hours before dawn and Brian was grateful that before finally falling asleep he had managed to push Justin on to his own side of the bed, even though waking up now Brian realised that the boy seemed to insist on using his body as an extra pillow and found himself once again wrapped up in this new blanket of his. But it was not this that had brought him so quickly back to awareness but the rattling of someone trying to force the window open from the outside. Brian barely tensed as he reached over and covered Justin’s mouth with his palm. Justin murmured, still completely lost in sleep, kissed and licking at his palm and settled down deeper into the covers. Brian rolled his eyes in astonishment and half-proud thought the word ‘slut’ very loudly in his head hoping that that would be enough to wake him up. His hand still wrapped round Justin’s mouth he shook it gently and pushed Justin away from his shoulder. He felt Justin’s eyelashes flutter and his body tense as he came fully awake. His breathing quickened and he started to struggle. Brian pressed his lips to the side of his head, getting a mouthful of blond hair for his efforts and whispered, his lips barely moving “Shhh, shhh! Justin, don’t move.” Justin stilled and nodded perceptively, “Good boy. Now reach under my pillow. There’s a pistol, give it to Me.” the window suddenly opened and Brian had already pulled back the release and was pointing it at his target. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” his voice was low and deadly but audible, as it seemed to echo within the room. The figure that had just been creeping through the gap of the open window froze, “Jesus, I swear you were sleeping, dead to the world barely thirty seconds ago when I looked through the window.” Brian let go of the trigger and it made an audible click in the brief silence that followed that statement. “Fucking Christ Alasdair, what in the blazes do you thing you’re doing? I could have bloody well actually killed you.” he sighed and put the pistol on his abdomen, he then curled his fingers round Justin’s head bringing it down so that it would meet his lips and kissed his temple, before pushing him back in the general direction of his pillow and trying to sit up. “At least you would have died without making a liar out of me, you thoughtless bastard. What are you doing here? …And why on earth didn’t you use the front door as is customary amongst we, more civilised folk?” Alasdair, still only a dark shadow, was fully inside the room now, brushing off invisible dirt from his dark clothing. He began to wander round the room until he found a candle, using a box of matches from his pocket he lit it then set it down on Brian’s dresser. The small pinprick of light that suddenly illuminated the room forced Justin blink to grow accustomed to the change. “Well the reason I didn’t use the front door was that I thought it would be rude to rouse an elderly servant, such as Jenkins, out of his bed at this ungodly hour… and it is being watched.” He added as an after thought. “Jenkins, elderly as he may be, can still tan your hide in any way you choose. Are you sure?” “No, I'm not sure… I am sure I could beat him at cards if I concentrated hard enough.” “Alasdair?” “Yes, of course I'm sure. They change posts ever six hours, the man every twelve. They wear different hats. As if they think such a childish trick is enough to fool a Scotsman.” Brian began to get out of bed, oblivious to his nudity as he went in search of his garments. “Since?” he found his breeches and tugged them on with nothing underneath and Justin’s nostrils flared. “Since the attempt made on your life.” Alasdair stated bluntly. “You told me that no one was speaking of it in the usual lines of inquisition.” “They weren’t. This is the work of one. Whether it's some noble you managed to piss off during your last serious enquiry or the Monsieur himself we know not. But the five new ones knew nothing and neither did the old hands. So it is not a part of this whole, that we have all been waiting so patiently for.” Justin couldn’t keep track of their elusive conversation. “Well? If they have been there since the start why creep in to tell me about it now? Do you enjoy getting me out of my warm bed?” Alasdair’s eyes flashed over to where Justin was sitting up, naked and tangled up in bed sheets. Justin blushed but knew that the colour in his cheeks could not be seen in this light. He stared back defiantly, eyes wide and like black pools in his pale face. Brian was staring pointedly at Alasdair when his attention returned to him, with a raised brow. Alasdair sighed, “Freddie’s dead! Poison!” Justin turned sharply to look at Brian and saw that not a muscle in his body moved. The silence grew and he began to move over to Brian’s side of the bed so as to be able to reach him. He noticed when Brian’s hands clenched into fists and when he took a deep breath that seemed to be the only thing holding back a torrent of anger and regret. “At the Club?” Brian didn’t move. “Yes!” Brian began reaching for his shirt, cravat and dark coat and waistcoat and threw them on to the bed by Justin. He picked up his boots and brought them with him as he went and stood in front of Justin. His fingers began to scramble around the material that kept his arm strapped to his chest and inactive. Until he grunted and let go and Justin raised his hands and did it for him. Brian turned his head back towards Alasdair. “How?” “We do not know.” Alasdair’s voice was laced with his obvious aggravation. “We were not expecting this. What is the use of it? To stop him from giving us information he is unable to give us regardless? Why go to all the effort of infiltrating us for such a pointless task? Why set up a watch on your house and not the Club? Why…” “Alasdair!” Brian spoke sharply in warning. Justin had finished unravelling him and he was checking the bandage. It wasn’t enough to protect the wound from re-opening. He knelt up the sheets falling from his hips, leaving him bare and he was oblivious. He began to wrap the dressing in a different way that would give Brian the freedom he needed but at least a little more support and protection. Brian sighed and everyone was silent for a moment as Justin dressed him as if he were an invalid. Brian fingers stroked absently up and down Justin’s hip and over his ass. Finally he turned his attention back to the matters at hand. Alasdair was right, something was strange in all these situations. He helped Justin put his linen shirt on, trying to keep his movement to a minimum. “You are right.” “Those are words I don’t hear often.” Alasdair attempted a smile but fell short. He shoved the armchair, where Justin had spent most of the week, backwards and sat down on it gratefully. “We are missing something… and those are not words I ever want to have to repeat again.” Waistcoat and cravat were next and as Brian fidgeted Justin nuzzled under his ear in an attempt to calm him. Brian’s hands rose, his left slowly and painfully but it rose all the same and Brian curled his hands round Justin’s biceps and stroked down the rest of the length of his arms as Justin tied the cravat into a knot at his neck. Justin’s lips curled up in a slight smile. “This has all the making of a good plan with bad timing.” Brian spoke all of a sudden. “We are thinking like Englishmen when we should be thinking like Frenchmen.” Even Justin’s brows rose after that curious statement. “Englishmen?” Alasdair made a face, full of mock horror, “Never let my Granny Lothian hear ye utter th’words o’er. She’d a been shamed o’me and I have always been the apple of her eye.” He said in full Scottish brogue then settled down enough to ask, playfully. “So what you… are suggestin is that we should be an Irish n’ a Scotsman thinking like Englishmen, trying to think like Frenchmen?” he nodded sagely. Both Brian and Justin smiled at that and Justin helped Brian on with his tails. Next he reached for Brian’s footwear but noticed that Brian hadn’t brought any socks with him so he shoved Brian back a bit and got out of bed completely irregardless of his nakedness… again. Brian only stepped back due to his belief that the reason behind the gentle shove would never have been for Justin to parade around naked. He was almost impressed… almost but not quite, by the fact that a few months ago getting Justin naked had been rather difficult and now it seemed too easy by far. He had obviously worn down Justin’s inhibitions a little but further than he had intended. He would have to build them up again… somewhat… but for now he would have to settle for something else entirely. Quickly stepping forward he didn’t let Justin past him but instead pushed him back until he sat on the edge of the bed. He wrapped Justin hips in one of the bed sheets and then let him get up to do what ever it was he had been going to. Alasdair hid his face in his hands and his shoulders shook with silent mirth. Justin turned to look back at him, puzzled at his antics and walked towards where he knew Brian kept his socks. He picked up a pair and turned back. Brian began to pace and lost himself in thought, unaware that his previous actions had caused his companions any speculation. “There are three incidents which seem to have everything and nothing to do with one another. Is this practice for the main event… for it is not time yet… but it would have been a good distraction. Two men dead, one the leader, the other the informant… it would have bought them several weeks worth of distraction, Alasdair.” They both nodded in agreement and Justin shrugged and herded Brian back in the direction of the bed. He knelt, picked up one foot and began to pull on his sock. Brian froze. If he’d been paying attention for the last several passing minutes he would have realised that dressing someone was strangely erotic. Justin wandered around, without questioning, generally naked or dressed in a Greek toga and looking rather angelic and sinful all at the same time. He was being attentive and submissive. He had asked no questions only did what… he hadn’t even been asked to do. He saw to Brian’s needs before Brian even realised he needed anything. “I can put my own socks and boots on.” Brian tugged his foot away gently and started yanking his sock on one handed. Justin raised a brow and stood by him, with tilted hip, smiling bemusedly. It took much longer for Brian to finish dressing than it would have if he had let Justin help but at least he had finished on his own. “Come, we should go now. Out the back so that they never know that I have left. They will sit outside waiting for me to leave, when I have already gone.” “Brian, your shoulder.” Justin reminded him gently as he stood in the centre of the room while Brian and Alasdair prepared to go. “It will be fine.” Alasdair was already climbing down and then waited for Brian at the bottom. Brian stared at the rope then turned quickly to fetch something coming back with one glove. “Climbing down one handed might have been harder than I thought.” He spoke absently and went over the ledge, leaving Justin standing alone, wrapped in the sheets off their bed and using up all his willpower to convince himself not to lean over the ledge and watch until he disappeared. ------- It was near midnight, two days later when Brian returned to the house. Jenkins greeted him at the door, ready to take his hat and coat and Brian made his way upstairs with saddlebags over his good shoulder. He packed them quickly and efficiently. He had done this many times before, rushed off last minute on some vital mission. Sometimes they were not all that vital, sometimes the easy life did not suit him and he needed a distraction, sometimes he got immensely bored with civilised society, sometimes he needed to run away and take some risks. He liked to think it kept him humble. He was picking out which of his knives and sheaths to take with him, he kept his favourites behind a false panel in the wall when he began to slow down. He wrapped a few up in cloth and the others he attached them to whatever body parts they were supposed to be attached to. He grabbed his best travelling cloak and laid it out on the bed and finally crept over to the door that separated him from Justin. He would be gone for some time and he wanted to look at pale skin and sweet lips for the last time in the next few weeks. He stood beside the bed, head cocked, studying the body sprawled out over the mattress yet at the same time curled around the second pillow he held in his arms with his head buried in it’s side. Brian smiled to himself with the knowledge that if he had been the one sharing the bed, Justin would have been wrapped around him in just the same way. He would take that image with him, for the long cold nights with no means of release. He turned and left just as swiftly as he came.