by Ruby Moone
Lyndon laughed, and it was a tremulous, happy sound. “All that.” He turned the ring around and gazed at it.
“That’s my promise.”
“And mine,” Hugo whispered. “I will buy you a ring. Everyone knows that’s mine, so I’ll buy you one from me.”
“And I shall return the sentiment.”
They walked into each other’s embrace. It was warm and comfortable, but after a little while, it became decidedly more heated. Hugo felt the hardness of Lyndon’s cock against him and responded immediately.
“Bed,” he muttered, pulling free and capturing Lyndon’s hand.
He came willingly.
Christmas Eve saw Hugo arrive at Winsford Abbey again, dressed in his best. He knew Lyndon would be joining them, and strongly suspected Edgar Hessledon might put in an appearance. He glanced in the mirror. His valet had excelled himself, and he looked well. He had been summoned to the drawing room, so headed there first.
Inside, he wasn’t exactly surprised to find his father, Jocelyn, and Vincent. He was surprised to find both Lyndon and Edgar Hessledon. Winsford stood by the fire with Lyndon and Hessledon standing close by.
“Darling. I’m so glad you are here.” His sister, nay his aunt, greeted him warmly as ever.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jossy.” He kissed her fingers and then pulled her into a gentle embrace.
“And now you know all?”
He pulled in a breath. “It would appear so, Aunt Jocelyn.”
“Wretch,” she laughed. “I’ll always be Jossy for you.”
He nodded and glanced shyly at Winsford. “Thank you for inviting me.” The words came out with starchy formality.
Winsford’s answering nod was almost as formal.
“Winsford?”
The gentle prompt came from Vincent.
Winsford made a startled movement and then walked over to where Hugo stood. He cleared his throat.
“I want you to know that all of us in this room, at this moment, understand the nature of our relationship. They all know that I am your father, and they all know that because of my relationship with Edgar, I am not likely to marry.”
He cleared his throat. “I have taken an enormous liberty, Hugo. One that I hope you will not hate me for.”
Christ. “Ah…what have you done?”
“I have explained to all assembled here, that, like me, you are unlikely to marry.”
Hugo froze inside. He felt as if someone were to tap him, he would shatter. He swallowed and eventually allowed his gaze to drift to Jossy. He licked his lips and swallowed.
Jossy came forward and took his hands. Vincent, who of course already knew, clapped him on the shoulder, both exhorting that he was not to worry in the slightest. That the family secrets were perfectly safe with them, and Hugo being in love with Lyndon didn’t alter their affections at all.
He closed his eyes, relief making him weak, accepting their love and kindness, kissed Jossy on the cheek, and shook hands warmly with Vincent
“What of the girls?” he asked, thinking of his other sisters.
“Well, they know about Winsford being your father, of course, but not the other. We felt it best not to speak of it openly because we can’t ask them to keep secrets from their husbands and I can’t be certain of how they would react.”
Jossy’s tone was pragmatic as ever, and he could see her point.
“But be assured,” she continued, looking first at him, then at Winsford. “Edgar and Lyndon will always be welcome here and will always be accepted as part of the family.”
Hugo opened his mouth and then shut it again. He was, quite frankly speechless. He nodded. It was the best he could do.
Hugo headed to the library, trying not to look like he was hurrying for an assignation, although that was exactly what he was doing. Earlier in the evening, amongst all the partying, Lyndon had stood by him for a moment, looking supremely disinterested, and as he took a glass of wine from a passing waiter murmured softly.
“Library, at midnight.”
Hugo’s mouth was dry, his heart was thumping with excitement, and as approached the door he looked about to make sure that no-one was about to see him enter the room.
It was completely clear, so he slid in, locking the door behind him.
The room was lit by the ever-present fire, and candles. A large space seemed to have been cleared, with the armchairs by the fire moved aside, and Lyndon was standing in his evening clothes waiting for him.
His heart did a delighted shiver in his chest, the way it always did when he saw him.
Lyndon smiled and walked over to him. They met in the middle of the room, and Lyndon bowed over his hand and kissed it.
“My dearest, Lord Hugo, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”
Hugo closed his eyes as music from the ballroom started. Faint, but distinct. A waltz. A smile spread over his face.
“I would be delighted.” He stepped into Lyndon’s arms. “Would you like me to lead?”
Lyndon’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glittering. “Yes, please,” he said, with a soft smile.
They hesitated a moment, poised, and then launched into the waltz. As they moved, they both hummed softly. Hugo pulled Lyndon closer until his jaw rested by Hugo’s temple. He closed his eyes and moved them both around the room. It was wonderful.
The music drew to a close as the grandfather clock in the corridor chimed the last stroke of midnight, heralding Christmas Day.
“I think we should make this an annual event,” Lyndon said, as they stood, arms around each other, swaying to the echo of the waltz.
“Mmm hmmm,” Hugo murmured. “Every Christmas we should definitely waltz in the library.”
“Until we are too old to move.”
Hugo chuckled. “I’ll hold your hand and we’ll sway in time.”
“Every year.” He whispered. “love you.”
Hugo turned his head, so his lips met with Lyndon’s jaw. “Love you too.”
“You did mention something about leading…?”
Hugo pulled back and fished in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a vial of oil.
Lyndon grinned. “You approve of making our waltz a tradition then?”
“Completely and utterly.” Hugo put the vial on the mantel, and returned to Lyndon, pulling gently at his cravat, removing the sapphire pin, and unwinding it, revealing the long, strong column of his throat.
Lyndon held up his arms, so Hugo helped him out of the tightly fitted, black coat, and then returned the favour and they stood before the fire, clad in voluminous white linen. Hugo unlaced Lyndon’s shirt, and, peeling it back, placed gentle kisses on his clavicle. He was ticklish, so it made him laugh, but piece by piece, they unwrapped each other like the precious, rare gifts that they were. Marvelling at every part revealed, pausing to worship at beloved points. The music continued in the background, and once naked, they held onto each other and swayed.
“Every year,” Hugo whispered. “And when we are long gone, people will come to the library on Christmas Eve and wonder why they hear the waltz playing.”
“It will scare them to death,” Lyndon laughed, kissing his temple.
“Particularly if they see two naked men waltzing…”
They both laughed, and held onto each other, and as the laughter subsided, they kissed. Tenderly at first, but the full import of everything that had happened swept through Hugo and he deepened the kiss. Lyndon moaned softly and responded. He moulded his body tightly to Hugo’s and they held on, sinking into the kiss that spoke of Hugo’s acceptance of who he was, who he loved, and how he needed to live.
Lyndon pulled away, panting. “How do you want me?”
“Facing me. I want to see you when you come.”
Lyndon’s eyes darkened and he lay on the rug, pulling up both legs.
Hugo picked up the vial of oil, and not taking his gaze from Lyndon’s took the stopper out, and slowly poured some into his hand. Lyndon�
�s chest was moving in short bursts, he was panting softly, a flush all over his cheeks, pouring down onto his chest.
“Now,” he whispered. “Please now.”
Hugo coated his cock in the oil, running his hand up and down, watching as Lyndon’s cock leaked. Slowly, he knelt between his thighs and, pouring more of the oil onto his hands, slid his fingers into his crease, finding his entrance. He put the oil within reach, leaned over and took Lyndon’s mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, and pushed his finger inside, making Lyndon arch off the floor and moan into his mouth.
Christ, how he loved this man. He continued the kiss and plunged in and out, stretching him and seeking the soft nub that would almost break him. When he did, when he rubbed his finger against it, Lyndon bucked harder, and wrenched his mouth away, crying aloud.
It always undid Hugo to watch Lyndon come apart in his arms this way. To know that Lyndon loved him, needed him, had stood by him.
“Now. For God’s sake, Hugo, now.”
He took pity on him, lined up, and surged inside. He was careful to go slowly until Lyndon was panting and groaning again, and when he thrust for the first time, Lyndon’s breath came in great, heaving sobs. They’d made love so many times over the last days. Hard and fast, slow and soft, but tonight, tonight was different again. Hugo settled between his thighs and thrust long. slow and deep. Savouring every part of him, every sensation, every piece that was Lyndon Cross. Lyndon responded in kind and together they danced a dance that spoke of love, of commitment, of forever.
When Hugo could hold off no longer, and his thrusts became ragged, Lyndon reached between them and took hold of his cock. Hugo let go and cried out, muffling the sound in Lyndon’s neck, as he poured himself into his love. Lyndon exploded beneath him and they clung together as the pleasure engulfed them.
When they had both regained their breath and senses, another waltz was playing softly in the background.
“Listen,” Lyndon said.
Hugo smiled and squeezed him tighter. They lay together, humming the tune softly, fingers dancing over skin knowing they had both found home. They had both found a family. They had both found love.
Chapter 15
Christmas Eve 2014
James had to blink several times to drag himself out of the past and into the present. Dylan was looking at him with wide eyes.
“And what happened to them?”
James smiled. “They stayed together, loved each other, and every Christmas they danced and made love by the fire. Just there.” He pointed at the rug.
Dylan swiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. “Oh, my God.”
“They lived until they were both ninety. Lyndon passed away first, and Hugo passed away a week later.”
James had to wipe his own eyes.
He cleared his throat. “There’s a reason I’ve told you this. I wanted you to hear it to see if you might… If you might reconsider your decision to leave me. After all, you did hear the waltz.” He tried not to sound desperate.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Rescind your resignation then.”
Dylan tried to speak, but James held up a hand. He needed to say this.
“Legend tells that the man who hears the music in the library is the man who will fall in love with…” He hesitated.
“Fall in love with who?”
There was enough breathless hope in Dylan’s voice to give him courage.
“The man who hears the music in the library will fall in love with the man of his dreams.”
Dylan’s mouth was open.
“Apparently, my uncle Vincent’s partner heard it. They’re married now, so it’s time for a new round of matchmaking for Hugo and Lyndon.”
“That’s so romantic.”
James nodded. “So, there you go. You’re going to fall in love with the man of your dreams.”
Dylan stood up, so James followed.
Dylan’s face was serious. “I already have fallen in love with the man of my dreams.”
“Oh. Oh, congratulations.” James’ heart sank. The love and romance of the story always moved him beyond words. He’d told it to Dylan in the hope that he might not leave, might be able to love him in return, but if he loved someone else, he was too late. It felt as though someone had a hold on his throat. His eyes prickled and he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself even more. He needed to leave. Quickly.
“You. You are the man of my dreams.”
James froze mid-thought, then turned slowly. Dylan was standing right by him. They were similar in height, so they stood toe to toe, nose to nose.
“I fell in love with you that first day when you couldn’t find the startup packs and you were so gloriously flustered, and so, so damned gorgeous. I thought I’d ruined it with my stupid attempt at a pickup, but we’re still here. You are the man of my dreams. You.”
James couldn’t speak.”
Dylan cleared his throat and fidgeted. “Ah, does the legend mention whether or not the man of my dreams might love me back?”
James couldn’t hold back any longer. His eyes watered. He blinked fast and swallowed. When he spoke, his voice wobbled. “He does. So damned much.”
Dylan smiled, his own eyes looking glassy, and wrapped his arms around him. Simon took Dylan into his arms and held him tight. They stayed that way for a long time.
“So why were you leaving?” James had to ask.
Dylan snuggled tighter. “Because I hoped that you might have some feelings for me, and that if I didn’t work for you anymore, we could perhaps explore them.”
James pulled back. “Really?”
Dylan nodded.
“Do you hear it?” Dylan whispered after a moment.
James cocked his head to the side, and there it was. Soft, gentle violins playing a waltz. “I do,” he breathed, afraid to speak and break the spell.
“I recognise the tune,” Dylan said and began swaying. James moved with him and hummed softly. The music wrapped around them, held them, and entranced them. When it died away, Dylan pulled back and took James’ face in his hands and kissed him gently. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“You know, I think that it’s time we told the story of Hugo and Lyndon, and of Simon and Edgar to the world.”
James nodded. “It’s time, isn’t it.”
“It is. In the new year, I think we should have an entire exhibition dedicated to them.”
James turned his face into Dylan’s neck and let the tears go. Dylan held him tight.
“It’s time for them to stop hiding. It’s time for me to stop hiding.”
He felt Dylan nod, and they held each other a little while longer.
“This tradition…” Dylan said, pulling back.
James cleared his throat. “Yes?”
“Did you say it involved making love in front of the fire?”
Warmth bloomed all the way through James.
“It most certainly did.”
Epilogue
“Is everyone here?” James shifted from one foot to the other as they stood outside the door to the library.
“Everyone is here,” Dylan said on a faintly hysterical laugh. “Even the damned press is here!”
“Oh, God.” James closed his eyes for a moment, but then looked at Dylan. They were both dressed in evening clothes with snowy white cravats at their throats. Dylan looked so good James wanted to take him back to the bedroom and sod the wedding.
The wedding.
Christ, he was getting married. The first Marquis of his line to marry another man. It was perfect, but he was still nervous.
He swallowed. “Are you ready for this?”
Dylan’s eyes were wide, his face pale, but he nodded.
James tapped lightly on the door, and it opened to reveal the library laid out like a tiny chapel. The soft strains of a waltz drifted around the room from the speaker system, but James was pretty sure he could hear the strains of the original in his head. One of
their closest friends was marrying them, and he stood in front of the fire. Above the fire was the fabulous portrait of Hugo and Lyndon standing side by side. Hugo looking out at the viewer, Lyndon looking off to the side. They’d had it restored, and now it hung in pride of place over the mantel.
Dylan’s suggestion that they do a celebration of their life had been an enormous success. The fact that the two of them were in love and getting married on Christmas Eve in accordance with the tradition had fired public enthusiasm to the point that the local TV people has arrived.
Dylan was no longer his employee, they were equal partners in the business, and after today, in life. James turned to him, held out his hand, and together they walked down the tiny aisle to the fireplace. The music stopped, but James could still hear it in his head. He looked at Dylan and raised his eyebrows. He smiled and nodded. He could hear it too.
The people around were a blur. All he could see was Dylan, his beautiful, beautiful Dylan, and marvel at how lucky he was to have found him.
He sent up a silent word of thanks to Hugo and Lyndon, their dance for so long forgotten, that would now live on through them. He turned to face his love. Held both his hands, and the words of the marriage service began.
The end
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Dances Long Forgotten
Copyright © 2019 Ruby Moone.
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