Sorry it took so long.. Seriously, I beg for forgiveness, Im a very bad person - here I give thee thy chapter, please dont kill me.. I even posted it on the same day as I did on my LJ - see Im trying to make amends Enjoy it, I hope - and tell me what u think ~*~*~*~*~*~ Brian was careful with everything he said and did around Justin for the few days following the events that had occurred at the clearing. They were calm and cautious around each other - mostly Brian was cautious. Justin seemed to be as carefree as ever but Brian had an inexplicable knowing sort of feeling that, something that days ago would have been ignored, wouldn’t be if it was said or done now. He was all too aware that anything he said could hurt this… thing he had with Justin and though it irked him, he really didn’t seem to want to do that - the hurting. So he was careful in what he did, how he touched, how he kissed, how he held and pinned Justin down. He balanced on the edge of a blade and what made him more nervous was the fact that Justin didn’t seem to be aware of the thin, sharp line that Brian was so wary of falling off. Justin seemed to have forgiven and forgotten the actions that he had so objected to that day. He was relaxed. He touched Brian as often as he could in public, headless to whether or not they were being watched. Their ardour, simmering constantly just below the surface, was relentless. The minute they found themselves alone, or without an audience they’d be all over each other. Tearing off their clothing, utterly desperate to be near each other, skin to skin, to feel their heat. It made for some of the most explosive climaxes either of them had experienced. Justin gave just as freely as he’d always done - hadn’t taken a particular liking to fucking himself on Brian’s cock in that particularly domineering way which had been the cause of one of the best and most astonishing orgasms Brian had ever experienced. He didn’t even seem to be trying to roll Brian over on to his front to stick his cock up his ass either, like he’d… mentioned, threatened, coaxed him to do. Justin was … just as he’d always been, since the beginning and maybe that was part of the reason Brian was so tense. He was expecting reprisal, punishment, at least some sort of reminder or… something. It took Brian four days to recognise that maybe that wasn’t the type of person Justin was. That maybe Justin wasn’t waiting for him to let his guard down to stab him in the back and swirl the knife around, making a mess, not of organs but of his emotions. This new supposition was playing havoc with what Brian knew of peoples’ characters. Justin’s mind was quick, his tongue sharp and he didn’t need to draw blood to make Brian sting. It could have been finished easily, swiftly. A sharp word or a look that told Brian that Justin was still holding onto resentment. Still reeling from the forced subservience and calmly waiting for the dues owed him for what Brian had done. And yet Justin did nothing. It was possible that the sort of person who didn’t keep count of a person’s mistakes so that adequate retribution could be demanded – existed. Wasn’t a myth of sorts, part of bedtime stories told to children to give them faith in humanity (he’d been reading to Gus from the small collection of fairy tales that he had found in his nursery) Maybe those sorts of people actually existed and maybe Justin was a good example of one. Justin had spent every free hour of the day eagerly showing Brian around and gesturing animatedly as he planned for the future yields of fruit or grain or herds of… Brian didn’t much pay attention to his every word but he did watch him, couldn’t help himself really. He watched Justin constantly; every move, every expression, every gesture and he didn’t know what to do with the boy anymore. Brian couldn’t keep Justin as that proverbial mistress in an isolated cottage – well, rather large house in the country, which Brian didn’t even pay for. He really doubted Justin would accept gifts and trinkets of any kind either. Brian couldn’t imagine the boy sitting serenely, waiting for Brian to deign to give him attention or orgasms. Justin would probably quite happily shoot him somewhere painful just for considering such a thought. Justin would make a terrible mistress. What really left Brian shaken was the fact that he didn’t think he’d be capable of doing such a thing even if Justin allowed it. Leaving Justin isolated in the countryside was not an appealing prospect to Brian, on any level. It was a circumstance that Brian couldn’t bear contemplating for any length of time. He had this craving for Justin he couldn’t quench, a need he couldn’t begin to comprehend and didn’t even want to be rid of. He liked it, liked the slight loss of control that Justin forced him to experience, liked touching the same person every single day, liked feeling things. The unexpected skipping heartbeat that he couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried, every time Justin entered a room he was in. The jerk in his cock that made him yearn to push that slim, tight, pale body to the ground and claim it over and over. This inexplicable need he had to always touch him. Whether it was his shoulder or hip or wrist as Justin indicated something or turned them to face another direction as he described the new stable he was planning on building. He liked that Justin never let him by easily just because it was less trouble than putting up a fight. Liked that he challenged and made him want to do better, be better – not for Justin but for himself and for Gus. He liked Justin - not because he was a good associate or friend, like Alasdair or a good employee like countless others. Not like Jenkins who he respected or Roger Talbot his mentor, not like… not like anything Brian really knew how to put into words. He liked Justin and the feeling was alien and there wasn’t a thing in this world that someone could offer him that could change his mind or make him want to stop. Brian could accept it now as something that was and might always be. When Alasdair finally arrived, a few days later than he had been supposed to, but rather punctual considering Alasdair’s typical lack of deference to deadlines, they… Brian had settled down and begun to enjoy Justin’s simple presence. It was a hassle for Brian to get back into the mood for work. He was almost finished reading through the pile of files that he had brought with him. He had managed to dismiss and discard the bakers and milkmen, maids and butlers who had no connections to France, no obvious motives or ways to profit from any particular downfalls, wars or his simple demise. He read through his mountains of paperwork whenever Justin was too busy to be with him although Justin was very rarely too busy to be in his vicinity. Justin went out of his way to always accommodate his presence as if he couldn’t abide the thought of being away from him. Brian didn’t much object to the perceived need that Justin had of having to be near him. At the same time that Alasdair was handing over the reigns of his mount to Brian’s head stable hand, relieving himself of his dusty overcoat in the arms of a groom and making his way inside, Brian and Justin were in the study. The chair behind Brian’s large desk was enormous, quite big enough to allow Justin to kneel with a knee on either side of Brian’s hips and his arms around Brian’s neck. A favourite chair of Brian’s for it could quite easily accommodate Justin kneeling over his lap and occasionally swivelling his ass to rub over Brian’s crotch. Getting Brian so hard, that ripping their breeches off to rut against each other skin to skin seemed vital to their very being, was not the actual purpose of their position. It was a benefit, a very nice benefit as far as it concerned Justin. After all he was quite partial to feeling Brian’s hard cock struggle within the confines of tight breeches, firm and insistent under his ass. So there was no doubt that it was a benefit but it still wasn’t the intent. The real objective of their position was so that Justin could distract Brian from the papers that he had been reading when Justin had interrupted him. To that purpose Justin had succeeded extremely well, unexpectedly well it seemed, as Justin’s thumb began to rub the hardness between Brian’s legs. When he had first stuck his tongue in Brian’s mouth, Justin would hadn’t expected that he would be allowed to distract Brian for as long as he had been able to, to this point. Brian had one of Justin’s ass cupped in each of his palms, occasionally massaging them and teasing the crack while pressing Justin nearer, harder into his own crotch. Justin had his arms wrapped around his neck, his fingers carding through his hair and his thumbs rubbing the very top of Brian’s spine, making him sigh and pull him in closer. Their chests pressed together, too many layers of material between them. Their mouths had not separated for the duration of Justin’s distraction, tongues lazily tracing inexplicable patterns, sucking and teasing as their eyes occasionally blinked open to gaze at the other. Alasdair had the good fortune to time his arrival just as Justin had begun to consider maybe, possibly slowly unbuckling Brian’s breeches and taking off his own so that he could then sit in Brian’s lap, full and to a much more satisfying end. Up until that moment, when Alasdair entered Brian’s study, Justin had been quite content to remain clothed while he knelt quite comfortably over Brian, their mouths fused together, their tongues tangling languorously with Brian’s large hands kneading the muscles of his ass. The sound of someone coughing pulled them out of their reverie. Justin’s head jerked up and he tried to turn around to face whomever it was that was obviously behind him but Brian pulled his mouth back and he relaxed into Brian’s firm embrace, forgetting why it was he had started to turn to begin with. Alasdair waited patiently, arms crossed over his chest, hips tilted and a wry smile decorating his lips as he watched his long-time friend and mentor molest the boy that sat in his lap. He didn’t think that there was a way for the two men to be any closer to each other in the state of dress that they were in. He could imagine that forgetting he was in the room would be quite a simple feat on their part and it wouldn’t have surprised him to see clothing being torn off so that they could tear into each other and satiate their obvious passions. He couldn’t bring himself to object entirely to the display and was quite prepared to wait, right where he stood for Brian to pay him his due attention. Sighing and removing his hands from Justin’s ass to stroke up the length of his back, Brian barely pulled away from Justin’s mouth to speak. “Yes, Alasdair?” Justin blushed and tried to move out of his arms but Brian’s grip was strong and he held him still and unmoving, firmly in his lap. Alasdair smiled brightly. “You have mellowed after a week in the country, Talbot. You didn’t even pull a pistol out on me when I made my presence known.” The fingers that had tangled themselves in Justin’s blond hair kept Justin from turning away from him. His blue eyes were wide with surprise that Alasdair showed none of his own, or any disgust whatsoever. The hint of apprehension that bloomed had faded, alleviated by Brian’s reassuring smile and casual manner. “What does that tell you, then?” Alasdair sighed and rolled his eyes defeated. “That you knew I was here all along. That you are still the master and that I shall never best you.” Brian smiled into Justin’s mouth and stroked over his soft cheek to finger the strands of blond hair that fell over his blue eyes. “Well done. Now, why is it that you’re here, exactly?” “You said to by the end of the week.” Alasdair replied, almost confused over a possible misunderstanding that might have taken place. “That’s my point, the end of the week was three days ago. Three days ago you would have been expected. Now you are interrupting. Go away.” Brian pointed out as his eyes fixated on Justin’s wet glistening lips. He lent forward to resume his business but Justin turned his head. The public demonstration of desire managing to discomfit him in a way that, no private wickedness had managed to before. “Brian.” Justin admonished, barely above a whisper as he tried to separate himself from Brian’s body. The man was making the simple task rather difficult. “I wasn’t meant to stay this long to begin with. I have to meet my foreman, you distracted me.” “I distracted you?” Brian’s eyebrow arched in amused revelation Justin’s nose wrinkled as he grinned back at him, “Well… I helped.” Brian snorted but finally released him. “I'll try and manage to… I'll see if I can… maybe spend the night. I'll try and arrange something.” Justin blushed, his eyes glowing with desire as he stood quickly and made his way to the door. He ducked his head in acknowledgement of Alasdair’s presence and looked slightly awkward before turning to leave, shutting the door firmly behind him. Alasdair stared after him in a way that made Brian glare. “I suppose it matters not whether it is a blush of shame or one of desire that graces his countenance, that boy is still exquisite.” Alasdair pointed out. “Alasdair!” Brian’s voice was low with warning. “A man can look and admire, can he not? I would be quite dead if I did not. Really it is a compliment to your fine taste.” “I think you spoke much the same words when you sampled that expensive and exceptionally distinctive batch of port I bought last year.” “Probably, but with one great difference.” “Only one? And what pray tell is that?” Brian’s tone told Alasdair that he must tread carefully in his reply. He smiled aloofly, “I am most definitely not allowed to sample this particularly distinctive…” Brian interrupted, “No, you most definitely can not. That I allow you to set eyes on him is honour enough.” Brian paused then frowned before adding, “Though don’t ever tell him I said that.” “Oh, do I suddenly find myself with ammunition for bribery?” Alasdair’s smile was bright and full of mischief, it only brightened further in reply to Brian’s glare. He fell daintily into the chair in front of Brian’s desk and lay the back of his palm against his forehead, “Finally I best you and it is only done with the aid of your nineteen-year-old boy.” He sighed dramatically. “He is not my boy.” Brian paused, then frowned adding carefully. “I never took you as one for modesty, Alasdair.” Alasdair sat up straight and returned Brian’s level gaze. “I’m not.” Brian pursed his lips, eyes flickering and assessing. “You do best me, Alasdair, in some things. You just never will in stealth or in detecting it.” Brian spoke earnestly before a glint returned to his eye and he continued casually. “If you had been born a poor man’s son, you would be making a fortune as a prettily-painted actor, for example. You can fit in to any social circle, mimic anything.” “An Actor?” Alasdair looked cautiously taken aback, wary of this sudden unfamiliar flattery. “Yes, you would have made a fine Juliet, Ophelia or Desdemona. They might have even deigned you manly enough to play Viola, I mean Cesario… no Viola.” Brian grinned wickedly, quite enjoying his playful taunting. “You are rather pretty after all, with your milky-white complexion and cherry-red lips… which match your hair, which so in fashion at the moment… for young, pretty girls making their come-outs.” Alasdair glared, “I'm sure there was a compliment buried in there somewhere. I'm just having trouble digging it up.” “Never say I’ve made things easy for you.” “If you ever did, I'm sure I didn’t notice it.” Alasdair became a little more serious as he added, “Anyway, if you had made it easy I, more likely than not, would be dead by now.” “You are quite right, several times over, probably knowing your knack for getting yourself into trouble.” “I don’t get myself into trouble, it just happens to find me.” “Could we get back to serious matters yet, Alasdair? Really, you need to learn to stop making everything about you.” “I do not…” he drifted off as he noticed Brian’s pointed smile and his mouth clipped shut, lips pursed tightly. “Here, I've read through all the minor reports. I need you to agree with me inferences so I can dismiss them and start with the ten or so I have left.” “You need me to agree? I thought your word was law, Oh High and Mighty One.” Brian snorted then sighed and pressed his fingers against his eyes as if to assess an impending headache, “I’ve been reading reports till I'm cross-eyed. Just tell me I'm right so that we can judge them for their ugly mistresses and dumb wives who are most likely than not sleeping with the milkmen in the reports I just gave you. ” “If that’s the case the chances of discovering our leak by reading these things over and over are highly unlikely, Brian.” “This was always going to be a long shot. Do it anyway so that I can pretend I've done all I can except shoot at people who look guilty, just in case they actually are.” Once they got down to it, only stopping briefly for lunch before sitting down once more to their task, it didn’t take long. Well, it didn’t take as long as it could have but it was some hours before they finished. Alasdair sat surrounded by the piles of written records, which had been firmly rejected as possible spies, capable of planning to try to kill Brian, the English Spy Master. “We are going about this the wrong way.” Alasdair slumped down defeated. “Pray tell how it is we should be doing this then. I did only flicker through that spy handbook my granny gave me when I was six, but I am quite sure there wasn’t a chapter with the title, ‘The Many, Many Methods That Exist To Ferret Out French Spies.’ Unless I missed that particular page.” “This is serious, Alasdair.” Brian sighed, defeated then looked up and smiled an apology at Alasdair’s answering, raised brow and pointed stare. “Sorry! I know you’re aware of that. I'm just really frustrated.” “Well how should we go proceed? What is there to do?” There was a very long silence. Alasdair wasn’t quite sure whether Brian was lost in thought or had given up and decided to take a nap. If that were the case Alasdair was very tempted to join him. he couldn’t see a solution to the situation they found themselves in. “We are looking at this in the wrong way. We need to view it from a fresh angle.” “What angle would that be? I only have my own.” Alasdair stated sullenly. Brian didn’t even to hear him, began to speak as if utter half-formed thoughts that hadn’t yet arrived at a constructive conclusion. “These men, they are like us.” He rolled his eyes and smiled reticently, “Well… how we could be if we were too old, too rich and too fat to do what we do and had to content ourselves with listening to the accounts of great adventures second-hand.” Alasdair couldn’t help but snort in agreement, hardly being able to see himself as Brian described until he’d lost the youth of his countenance and at the ripe old age of twenty-six he hoped that wouldn’t be happening for quite some time. “Yes, so?” Brian stood, walked round the desk until he could take advantage of the large empty space between it and the doorway and began to pace. Alasdair turned his chair around so that he could watch Brian’s steps. “We have proved that they do not knowingly betray us so it must be a secondary source. A person who has the good fortune of being placed in such a position that gives them the ability to overhear, entice, manipulate or read the delicate information The Four have in their possession. The information that we provide them with.” Brian finally stopped and turned to Alasdair as if expecting some sort of concurrence. Alasdair’s eyebrows rose and he held his hands out in supplication. Brian sighed and began again. “We have the same weaknesses.” “Excuse me but I can most heartedly assure you I do not have the gout, weak lungs, excess fat or any trouble with taking any person to bed, repeatedly in one night I might add” Brian ignored, continued as if he hadn’t said a word. “Who’s the person you share things with? Tell everything to?” “Everything?” Alasdair repeated dubiously. “Yes, everything.” Brian returned. “Everything as in - whose husband, wife or son or daughter I'm sleeping with and who I'm trying to extort or have assassinated for espionage? That sort of everything?” “Yes!” “Oh! Well this should be an easy question to answer.” Alasdair looked doubtful, “Personally…” Alasdair frowned as he contemplated the question before breaking out in surprised amusement, “Absolutely no-one, actually.” “Well, that doesn’t much, help.” “How about you?” “What do you mean, me?” “Who’s your person?” “Why would I have a person? If you don’t have a person, you, who are extremely sociable then I, I definitely don’t have one.” “We have different people, Brian.” “What?” Alasdair tried to explain, “My mother would have even the most trivial piece of information half way across London in half an hour. My sister’s are much the same. My brother would try to use anything I told him as a means to sabotage me - jealous git. And you… well even you refuse to allow me to speak of the women I bed in your presence. So there is no, one person that I would tell absolutely everything to.” “A lover.” Alasdair was so caught up that he didn’t realise that there wasn’t a question in that simple statement. “A lover? Why on earth would you even deign to hold a conversation with one of those? They hardly have anything worthwhile to say. Unless it's ‘harder, deeper.’ All simpering fools if you ask me.” He laughed, delighted with the mere hought. “Alasdair!” Alasdair’s mouth snapped shut as he noticed Brian’s serious expression and the slightly fearful shadow in his eyes. He froze still. “What makes you think that I’d ask for your opinion on whether or not to trust a lover. You have none. Alasdair. You have men and women who simply roll over for you at your merest whim.” His tone was somewhat sharp. Alasdair’s fingers tapped a rhythm on the arm of his chair. “Ah! You make a valid point. A point that until very recently would have applied to you too, I might add… although not so much with women but many, many more men. Lots of those.” He nodded as if satisfied with this pronouncement. His eyes lost their focus for a brief moment of silence, before suddenly centring on Brian with new intensity, “Well then… in your opinion who would one ask if one was to know whether a person trusts a lover with his deepest darkest secrets?” Alasdair spoke carefully, knowing he tread on dangerous ground as Brian’s unmoving frame stood taut with suppressed tension, realisation flickering through his gaze. “People trust their lovers.” Brian stated simply. Alasdair’s mind wandered as he quickly worked through the various implications of that important, insignificant statement. “Well… I'm not so certain. How can we be sure that…” Brian interrupted, “I know!” “You know?” Alasdair paused then glanced up sharply and looked at him studiously. “Do you now?” he sighed, aware that something had changed, aware that he had known for a while now but just hadn’t really… known it. Brian ignored him and Alasdair allowed a small smile of triumph to quirk his lips briefly. The man stood lost in thought, lips moving soundlessly as he tried to work his way through all the information he had absorbed. “The Prince.” He stated finally as if coming to a conclusion so simply, so easily plucked from the ethers, that there was no doubt in it. “What about him?” “His Mistress.” He seemed almost awed. Mostly he was just frustrated. “The Bitch, I've been staring at her card for weeks. She handed herself over to us on a gilded plate. How she must have laughed knowing that I had her card with her very name, her address on it in my own house. She hid herself in plain sight.” Alasdair’s brow furrowed, “No, you must be wrong. A woman?” “Of course, another irony Monsieur Espion. We were expecting, searching for a man and all the while she was cutting us down, one by one, safe within the knowledge of her own cover, her security.” Alasdair wasn’t finding it very difficult to be convinced. The irony that Brian pointed out was… it was clever. “That was her downfall.” Brian had started pacing, everything suddenly making sense, “She was overly confident, too secure in the methods of her own intricacies.” Alasdair watched him, carefully listening as he worked everything out and began to plan. “We’ll leave in the morning.” He finally concluded. “If we leave now, we could still make it to London before midnight.” Alasdair began to get up, expecting haste but Brian paused and slowly, carefully revoked the suggestion. “No! No, you’ve already been travelling all day. You should have a nights’ rest before making the journey back.” Alasdair looked disbelieving, grinning in a defeated sort of way. “Of course I am in dire need of rest after such a long, strenuous journey. Say goodnight to Justin for me.” ------ Justin decided to approach his mother in the early evening. He knew that the cook had started supper but he had given her a subtle hint of his hopeful absence. His mother had taken the opportunity of a moments’ peace, just before the sun set and any natural light disappeared, to sit calmly in her favourite chair, by the open window with her sewing. Justin knew that nothing could keep her from dropping a stitch and that all conversation came secondary to the task at hand. He hoped consent would be given before the request was really noted. Since childhood he had always liked to sit by her, reading his latest book. He was too eager to deny that he hoped this return to old customs would soften her. The conversation was light and frivolous as Justin shared the news of new engagements or babies or even the broken leg of one of his men. His mother listened offering a comment or validation to whichever piece of gossip required it. When Justin finally broached the subject her nods and agreements were mostly by rote. “One of his Lordship’s friends is up from London and he’s invited me to dine with them. I might stay the night, if it gets too cold. Not to mention that Lord Talbot is rather inept with the baby and the nurse is not well.” He paused in thought, then added as if the idea had just come to him. “Yes, I should probably stay the night just to make sure that nothing happens.” “His Lordship will have to find himself another wife soon.” Jennifer mentioned randomly. Justin froze, tension making his bones ache. Then dread started to make itself known in every pore of his body. He smiled blankly and blinked over eyes that suddenly felt too dry. “He’s only just been widowed, mother. He has no need to marry another woman so soon after having just lost the first one.” Jennifer seemed not to have properly absorbed his words and continued as if he hadn’t spoken although her words directly refuted his dissent. “An engagement does take some time to come about. People don’t get married out of thin air. There’s finding the girl, courtship, a long engagement because you are right, it wouldn’t be proper for Lord Talbot to marry too quickly and then planning a wedding takes time…” “Mother!” Justin finally stopped her, having heard enough. She set her sewing down. It seemed the sun had begun to set and her sight was failing her. “What Justin? Do you object to his Lordship marrying? “I… No, I don’t… object, if he wants to, I suppose.” His words held no certainty of tone. It was quite a pathetic avowal. “I can imagine that it would be difficult, after all you did so admire her Ladyship. You were good friends. But you might like the next one too. She’d probably be nearly your own age.” Justin felt himself fill with horror, “He already has an heir so it is not entirely necessary.” Justin pointed out a little too quickly “Children need a mothers’ touch and his Lordship will need someone to share his life with.” His mother stated simply. “He will have someone.” he said too fervently. “A man’s mistress doesn’t count, Justin.” She spoke with all the wisdom of a woman who wished it were so. “Really? I was under the impression that Father does very well refuting that old wives’ tale, Mother.” She recoiled, taken aback. He had spoken too harshly, her words having ignorantly caused him so much fear and panic over unknown futures. “Justin?” she was so surprised she couldn’t think of what to say. “You must stop deluding yourself, mother. You are too intelligent to continue doing so. Start to live your own life instead of waiting for his to make you whole.” Her eyes filled with pain and he left his place, his stiff muscles loosening so that he could kneel by her feet. “Mother, you have to let it go. Try and be happy. Take a lover for all I care. Just, stop forgiving him for making you miserable.” He blushed as he spoke quite shocked at his own audacity but meaning it still. “Justin?” Stunned into silence. When she finally spoke she’s managed to gather herself to calm amusement. “What do you know of Lovers? Your suggestions though… sweet of you are… it wouldn’t be proper. What would people say?” she finally concluded. His heart broke for her, “Damn what people say mother. You are a witch, you can do anything.” He smiled in a wicked way that reminded her of youthful indiscretions, grazed knees and torn clothing, broken dishes and stolen food. She rested her hand on his head and kissed his brow. “Language! Don’t speak so. I taught you better. Make sure that none can fault you for your manners at dinner, tonight. I couldn’t have people thinking you were an uncouth, country bumpkin.” “Thank you, mother.” He kissed her cheek and left her, lost in thought while he strolled aimlessly towards the Talbot Grounds and Estate. ------ By the time he reached the house it was very late and quite dark. Justin had missed dinner but at least he had managed to ease his mind towards Brian’s non-existent, impending wedding. He would worry about it, if and when it ever happened. His fear seemed unfounded when truly pondered. Brian seemed to have no love lost for the female sex. He already had an heir in Gus and all the benefits of companionship and lovemaking with Justin. There was nothing more that he could require. Jenkins opened the door to him and Justin strode in with an easy smile and comfortable step but paused to listen to for the sounds of banter, with no success. With a frown creasing his forehead he turned back to face Jenkins, a question ready on his tongue but it seemed words were unnecessary. Jenkins darted his eyes up the stairs in a barely visible indication of his master’s whereabouts. Justin blushed and ducked his head in near mortification but it didn’t stop him from following his direction. As he approached the door as quietly as he could Justin frowned puzzled as to why there was not the tell-tale signs of life, the flickering lights and shadows that swayed and shone from underneath doorways. He pushed open the door and it was only the illumination of the hallway behind him that showed the shape of a man half buried under bed covers. Justin shut the door and locked it before advancing, slowly removing his clothing, deciding he’d be quite content to simply lay beside his lover and sleep through the night if he was so wearied. But it seemed that that wouldn’t be necessary, though unmoving, eyes still firmly shut, Brian spoke. “You made it.” He stated barely above a hushed, throaty murmur. “Yes! I am here.” Justin climbed up beside him, naked from the waist down but too eager to touch to finish removing the rest of his clothing before doing so. He stroked his fingers gently over the flesh of the one shoulder that was uncovered. He turned his torso back to reach the nightstand and with the matches his fingers bumped into, he lit the small candle. The light flared on and Justin turned back to better study Brian’s face. The shadowed planes of his beautiful face made Justin’s heart skip a beat and his fingers followed his gaze, gently tracing the patterns of the hard angles of his lover’s face and the soft swells of inviting flesh. Brian’s eyes remained shut, allowing Justin the liberty to explore, unhindered. Brian sighed and murmured his pleasure, “Hmmmm.” Smiling in reply Justin spoke softly in return. Not for the purpose of sharing meaningful words but for the sole comfort of the calming sound of his voice. “If anyone asks, you’re a terrible father and needed my help with the little one tonight, for Jane is sick.” “Not far wrong then.” Brian’s arm began to creep out from under the bed covers and rise up to stroke the chilled skin of Justin’s thighs. The contrast of Brian’s warm hands and Justin’s cold made his skin break out like a plucked chicken. Justin shivered but remained where he was. “Jane is sick?” he asked surprised. “No!” There was a moments pause until Justin understood what Brian had meant. “You are a good father, Brian.” He reassured earnestly, his fingers carding through Brian’s hair to sweep it off his face. Justin took Brian’s silence for disbelief. “Brian?” Closed eyes and an invisible shake of his head made Justin duck down nearer. “Brian you are…” Brian interrupted, “You do not know what I am. You do not know. The things I have done, the things I will do…” “No! No! Listen to me.” Justin demanded, urgently. “You, you are a good person, a good man, a good lover, a good father. What you do, you do because if someone did not the consequences would be far graver.” He pressed his lips against unyielding softness. “I trust you Brian, trust you with my life, with the life of your son. Those men who have power trust you with the life of their country, their kingdom. It is a great burden and you have carried it willingly for a long time.” “Justin?” Brian sighed regretfully. He did not need a sermon, didn’t know what use one would do. “Brian, I forgive you. I shall forgive you again and again until you believe it.” “You are not my priest.” He tried to sit up but his toned seemed tinged with amusement. “No, I'm much better than a priest, though tell no-one I said so.” Justin added as an afterthought. “There is a lot more enjoyment to be had in my form of cleansing.” He smiled guiltily at this proclamation. Brian saw it in the shadow of candlelight. Brian reached up and lay his palm on Justin’s cheek, touching softly while searching the dark for a sign, a glow, a hint of blue eyes or blond hair. Justin leaned into his touch and Brian breathed freer. “Why are you abed at this early hour?” Justin suddenly asked as if to change the subject but half aware that the answer to his question might be the reason for the conversation that had come about. “I was expecting you?” Brian asked as if it were a hopeful statement, which he wished Justin would believe so that he could be quietened. “That means you’d be waiting for me, drink in hand with Alasdair taking your mind off the fact that I hadn’t yet arrived. As I now know that he knows, in great detail I might add, witness as he was, exactly what it is I do for you and you for me.” “Not tonight. Let us not speak of reasons tonight Justin. Just be here, mo chuisle.” (my pulse ) Brian tried to pull him down to his side, distract him with kisses. Justin resisted a moment before speaking softly. “You tend to speak in Irish whenever your heart beats strongly for me.” Brian snorted as if amused at such a foolish assumption but Justin knew him too well to take it seriously. “Take of your shirt.” Brian ordered gruffly, “You see? My point exactly.” “I see nothing of the sort. I'm asking you to strip. I would ask the same of a well-favoured bed-slave.” Brian reached out, blind fingers tussling with invisible buttons. Justin captured the hand that was trying to undress him and held it away from him. “A well-favoured bed-slave?” Justin could hardly veil his amused pique. “Very well-favoured.” Brian amended hopefully. “To whom you speak in Irish when your mind breaks free of your firm control and lets your heart speak to me directly?” Brian could perfectly visualise the perfect curve of a raised, pale brow and the heated look, hot with both danger and desire, directed at him. He sighed and resigned himself to defeat. “Yes. To whom I speak in Irish when there are not words enough in this brutal English tongue to express emotions that are beyond mere, mortal hearts.” “Good!” Justin let go of Brian’s wrist and let it fall. “Take off your shirt, Justin. You are cold and the bed is warm. Come to me now so that I may warm your blood.” Justin snorted wryly but began to undo his buttons swiftly. “And how is it, exactly, that you think you will be able to warm my blood, Master?” “Justin,” Brian purred heatedly and was suddenly much more awake than he had been mere seconds earlier. He wrapped his fingers round a slender ankle and begun to tug Justin down. “Well, I could wrap you in my arms and we could lay silently side-by-side while your skin slowly absorbs the heat from your surrounds, until you drift to sleep.” “Or?” Justin’s voice was breathless and then his breathing muffled as he lifted his shirt over his head. “Or I could warm you, from the inside out, mo chroí, mo ghra, mo shearc.” (my heart, my love, my only) “Convince me then, which of these options are best for my health, for my heart.” Justin slid in under the covers, pressing his mouth firmly against Brian’s for a kiss. He couldn’t get Brian close enough, deep enough but he kept it short, kept him wanting, turning suddenly to press his back tightly into the curve of Brian’s chest. He rested his head on Brian’s outstretched arm, pressing his lips to the pulse in the crook of his elbow and tangling their fingers together. Pressing his hips back into Brian’s crotch he felt Brian’s answering heat, against the crack of his ass. Brian’s free arm came about him to stroke his belly and tease his nipples. Justin felt the soft, wet, warmth of lips press against the back of his neck. Justin tilted his head, letting Brian smooth his lips up until they fastened round the corner of his jaw. He shifted his ass back, rubbing and undulating his hips until he heard Brian moan. “What do want?” Brian spoke breathlessly, air blowing over Justin’s ear making him shiver. Brian’s finger’s wrapped round his hips and Justin wanted him to hold him so tight that he left bruises. “What do you think I want, Brian? What do you know I want?” “I've turned you into something wicked, irresistible, a heat that burns me whether I look or touch or breathe you in. God, Justin what you do to me.” “I want you as deep as you can be. Can you do that for me?” Justin already begged, full of need. “Anything you want, Jus. Anything.” “Then fuck me, Brian. Love me.” he demanded. Brian curled fingers round his jaw, turning his head forcefully to press his tongue into Justin’s mouth. Wrapping long fingers round the length of Justin’s erection, stroking slowly until he groaned, cum beading out of the slit and used, fingers sliding in the wet and spreading it round and making him tremble and beg wordlessly. Deciding that his index and middle fingers were slick enough Brian moved back, stroking over Justin’s thigh, over his ass cheek to slide between and breach the tight opening. One first, dipping and searching till he found the small bump that made Justin sigh with pleasure and tilt back for more. Brian softly stroked, teased and soothed him as his erection wept with need, he wiggled back into Brian’s stabbing, probing finger. He felt the tip of second finger begin to break through him, he pulled away, Brian’s breath caught in surprise. “No don’t.” Justin tensed his muscles around the single digit in his rectum. “What?” Brian’s confusion was evident in his voice. “I don’t need a second. Come to me now.” Justin tilted his head back searching for Brian’s mouth. Brian avoided it. “But I shall hurt you.” “No,” Justin shook his head, “I want it. I like the bite, the burn. It stays with me for longer, for days and I remember you.” he answered simply. “Justin?” Brian’s sounded breathless. “Hmmm?” he smiled knowingly. The arm that Justin’s headed rested upon, bent across him, forearm pressing against Justin’s throat, Brian’s finger’s clutching his shoulder, anchoring Justin to his chest. Justin felt the thick, wet head of Brian’s sex press in against him, spread him open and he hissed, breath hitching at the sting but he pressed back into the pain, opened himself to it with a sigh of reward as Brian pushed into his depths. “Oh God. Brian!” he felt empty as Brian left him, only to push back in again firmer and deeper every time Justin began to feel empty. Their groans were soft, mere murmurs of need that intensified rather than quickened their pleasure. They met perfectly, bodies rising and coming together, Brian’s lips constantly brushing over Justin’s shoulder, pressing against pulse points and Justin’s fingers gripped at his flesh, fingers either tangled with Brian’s own or digging into the hip that cupped his. “Please? Please, God please.” Their rising climax, rocked through them. Shattering their heart beats, making their bodies shudder and tremble against the other. Every weakening thrust to Justin’s prostate prolonged his end, his eyes tearing up from the added stimulation. Later they didn’t sleep. Feeling too energised, Justin kept Brian awake to hear his murmurs and whispered promises. Justin straddled his abdomen, hole still open and stretched, still wet and dripping with Brian’s spend, the mixture of their juices spreading messy and everywhere, wrapping them in the scents of love and sex. When Brian lost himself in the sound of Justin’s voice, his fingers would drift automatically to that place, immersing himself in and teasing ritually as if Justin were the font that stood at the entrance of any Catholic Church, full of holy water for people to dip their fingers in and wash their sins away. He massaged Justin’s sodden muscles until they absorbed and welcomed him, clenching and begging in response, begging for something larger to fill his empty spaces. ------- Jane had watched for him. She waited in the shadow of the nursery doorway until his pale, glowing form had hurried past an illuminated window and, without even knocking turned the handle of her Masters’ bedroom door, shutting it firmly behind him. She had scarcely been able to catch her breath - hand to her throat as she stumbled to her small bed and sat numbly until dawn, sleepless and cold until she fell into restless sleep.