Dreamspinner Press Year Five Greatest Hits

by Tinnean

  He scowled at me. On those rare occasions when I responded to his needling, I invariably succeeded in making naught but a fool of myself. But knowing I’d soon have his brother beneath me… the corner of my mouth turned up in a smirk, and his eyes narrowed.

  “You’re in a jolly good mood.”

  “And why should I not be? It’s my birthday, and I’ve received a splendid gift—”

  “Hell and the devil!” John’s cup had slipped from his fingers to land on the Savonnerie carpet. He was pale, and there was an almost frantic look to his eyes. Did he fear I’d say something aloud, gloating over his perceived weakness for a male lover?

  “—from Uncle Eustace,” I concluded in all innocence.

  “Really, John!” Aunt Cecily protested. We all knew better than to swear in her presence.

  “I beg your pardon, Aunt Cecy, Arabella.” He scowled down at the broken cup.

  “Well, enjoy the gift while you may, Awful,” Robert snapped as he went to the bellpull to summon Colling, “for I’ve no doubt Sir Eustace will take it back when it best suits him!”

  I knew that even better than he, for my uncle never gifted the Hoods or Arabella with anything, leaving that to his wife.

  I ignored Robert’s hurtful words and turned to Aunt Cecily, who was offering me a cup of tea. “Thank you, Aunt, but no.” I had no desire for any of the tiny sandwiches or iced cakes on the supper tray either, for John would soon be mine. “I believe I’ll retire early.”

  He began choking.

  “John, what’s amiss with you tonight?” Robert pounded him on the back.

  “Enough. Enough! You mean beyond me spilling tea all over my favorite waistcoat? Nothing, Robin.”

  “Well, you do seem to be at sixes and sevens this evening.” William picked up the pieces of John’s cup and put them on the supper tray.

  “It’s nothing, I tell you!”

  I swallowed a smile; John did seem disgruntled. Too often had I been the object of the brothers’ mockery, and in spite of my feelings for him, I couldn’t help but take a bit of mean pleasure in his mishap, for that was indeed his favorite waistcoat.

  I retrieved a candle and walked out, of course unnoticed by anyone.

  Colling was bustling toward me.

  “Mr. John’s spilled his tea. I’m sure you’ll deal with it in your usual competent manner.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Ashton.” He went on to answer the bell, and I made my way to the still room.

  How much time would I have, I wondered, before John came to me? I took one of the bars of the soap Aunt Cecily had made from the receipt the first Sir Osburt’s lady brought with her from her homeland, and then strolled up to my bedroom. It wouldn’t do to appear as if I were in a rush.

  Upon opening the door, I couldn’t prevent a sigh. My room was in darkness save for the faint moonlight that drifted in, for the curtains weren’t drawn, and the hearth was cold.

  I set the candle on the nightstand and went to the windows. It was the work of only a moment to close out the night. After I lit the oil lamps, I tugged the bellpull. Usually I’d make do with chill sheets, but not this night.

  Soon a fire was blazing in the hearth, warming the room. I knew it would be a while before a housemaid answered my summons, so I took the opportunity to have a quick wash.

  Perhaps the spicy scent of the soap would be an additional lure to John. It was said to be an attraction to a lover.

  I found a nightshirt that hadn’t been worn. It was uncomfortable against my skin—perhaps that was why I’d never worn it—but I didn’t anticipate wearing it for long.

  There was a timid tap on my door, and I drew on my dressing gown before calling out, “Come.”

  “Y… you rang, Mr. Ashton?” It was a tweenie, one of the youngest maids on staff. Of course, none of the housemaids would stoop to answer my call, although if it was one of the Hoods ringing they would stumble over themselves to do their bidding.

  “I want a bed warmer, Maggie.”

  “M… me, sir?” She turned so white I thought she would fall in a faint.

  “I want you to fetch me a warming pan,” I clarified.

  “Oh! Yes, sir!” She scurried out as if the hounds of hell were on her heels.

  I shook my head. What had they told her below stairs?

  I PACED from the window to the door.

  Everything was in readiness. My bed was nicely warm, and the little jar of lotion that Jem had given me was sitting on my nightstand.

  All that was needed now was John.

  I worried my lower lip. Should I have told him I would go to him? But no, the possibility that Robert might see me entering John’s room would have resulted in his brother denying my attentions, no matter how much he might desire them.

  I paced to the window once more, brushed aside the curtain, and stared out into the darkness beyond my window. There was nothing to see, but it was better than staring about my room, pondering if I should have had flowers brought from the conservatory, if I should have brought up some of the sweet-smelling candles Aunt Cecily favored.

  The door opened. I turned, and all worrisome thoughts fled my mind.

  “John,” I breathed. “You came.”

  “I….” He looked uncertain, nothing like the cocksure young man who’d been one of the banes of my existence, and I felt my heart melt.

  “Hush.” I crossed the room and made sure my door was locked. “You won’t regret this.”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “I already regret it.” His gaze travelled about the room, touching briefly on the fireplace, the armoire, the small table that held a basin and ewer, shying away from the bed, which was, or so I thought, invitingly turned down.

  Well, no point in keeping him on tenterhooks. I removed my dressing gown, letting it puddle at my feet, and went to him.

  “You’re overdressed.” Without giving him time to think, I began to strip him of his clothes, letting them lie where they fell.

  “M… must I be naked?”

  “You’ll be more comfortable.”

  He stood there, not helping, but not hindering either.

  And in spite of his apparent reluctance, his prick was engorged by the time I had him naked.

  “Very handsome.” I reached out to run my fingertips along his length, to cup his testicles, to rub lightly the skin behind them, ghosting across his fundament.

  “Oh!” His eyes widened in apparent surprise, and a drop of liquid formed at the tip of his prick.

  “Haven’t you done this before?”

  “You know I haven’t!”

  How would I know that? We weren’t the best of friends, indeed weren’t any sort of friends in the least. However, I kept those words unsaid.

  “Have… er… have you?”

  “You saw me in the stable this afternoon.”

  He flushed.

  “But yes, I’ve done it enough to know the ins and outs of the deed.” I smiled, but he didn’t seem to comprehend my little joke.

  Oh, well. No matter. We were here to fuck, not to have a dalliance. Still… I wanted him panting with need of me.

  I caught the liquid on my thumb and brought it to my mouth. My eyes on his, I let my tongue sweep out and taste him.

  He frowned. “That’s—”

  “Delicious. You taste delicious, John.” I could have got drunk on him, but that wasn’t something I was about to confide in him, not just then.

  Perhaps one day?

  “How….” Tremors ran through his body, and he licked his lips. “How do you want me?”

  “Lie down, please.”

  He obeyed without further comment, and his legs fell open as if of their own accord.

  I disposed of my nightshirt as quickly as possible for fear he might change his mind. His eyes drifted down my body, drawn to the spot where my prick rose thick and proud. He swallowed heavily, but didn’t seem inclined to bolt just yet.

  “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” I kept my spectacles on, the better to see
him with, and climbed onto the bed.

  “Why not? It’s what I’d—” He bit back the remainder of his words, not that that was necessary. I was no fool. I knew full well that had our positions been reversed, John would have taken great pleasure in—well, perhaps not hurting me, for he was a Hood and thus an honorable man—but in cowing me.

  Conversation at a time like this was overrated. I leaned forward and took him in my mouth, pushing his foreskin back with my lips. A keening wail emerged from him, and his entire body stiffened as he thrust his hips up, driving his prick deep into my throat. Had no one ever done this for him before? Oh, I believed him when he said he’d never lain with another boy, but surely the lasses of Harrow on the Hill hadn’t been blind to his many attractions! I gripped the base of his prick, giving it a squeeze, and drew off.

  “No!” he wailed again. He reached for me frantically, attempting to push my head down, and if I weren’t so aroused myself, I would have been amused by his neediness. However, I knew it would be all over with him if I continued, and as much as I loved him, I was not about to let John achieve satisfaction unless I did as well, for I didn’t doubt he’d catch his breath, gather his clothes, and make a hasty departure. He had said this was to be the only time, but I wanted more than one single occasion, and I intended to see that in the end, he did as well.

  “Ashton, if you don’t stop larking about, I swear I’ll draw your cork!”

  He hadn’t called me “Awful,” and that gave me cause to hope.

  I reached for the jar of lotion and scooped a goodly amount onto my fingertip. I worked the lotion into his fundament, and he gasped and tightened around my finger. I made no move to press in deeper or to withdraw. Abruptly the grip loosened, and I pushed my finger in further until I found his sweet spot.

  This time the sound he made was more like a desperate mewl.

  I removed my finger, coated two with the lotion, and returned to preparing him for the invasion that was to come. He gripped my shoulders, his nails digging in almost painfully, but he was thrusting back against my fingers, and this also gave me hope.

  “Are you enjoying this, John?”

  “Are you mad?”

  I stopped rubbing that spot within his back passage. He bucked against my hand, twisted and turned, but I didn’t give him more of what he was now desperate to have.

  “Yes, I’m enjoying this! Dear God, what are you doing to me?” he whimpered. I withdrew my fingers, and he became even more frantic. “Please! Please!”

  “Onto your side, if you please.”

  He obeyed with alacrity, unwittingly raising his right leg, giving me access to what lay in the shadow of his buttocks.

  “Yes, dear one.” As much as it had given me pleasure to hear him beg in my fantasies, now I found it degrading.

  I coated my prick and settled myself behind him, entering him with a single, swift movement. The last thing I wanted was for him to stiffen and possibly cause himself pain.

  It was fortunate that the rest of the family resided on the first floor, for he howled.

  “John?”

  “More!” he panted. “More!”

  I slid an arm around his shoulders and gently stroked the curve of his Adam’s apple, all the while lazily making lo—buggering him.

  “Harder! Harder!” he demanded.

  I knew he was going to be sore in the morning, but I couldn’t deny his request. I curled the fingers of my right hand around his prick and stroked him to the rhythm of my prick pounding into him.

  It didn’t take long after that. With another howl, he spent into my hand, and the clenching of his inner muscles pulled me over the abyss after him.

  I STAYED within him as long as I could, which wasn’t as long as I should have liked. All too soon my softened prick slid from the warm haven of my lover’s body. I rose, dampened a flannel, and straightened my spectacles, which had gone all askew, before bending to examine John’s fundament. There was no blood, and I breathed a sigh of relief; I’d never had a virgin before.

  I wiped him clean of the remnants of the lotion and my seed, dropped the flannel into the basin, and removed my spectacles. I joined him on my bed, cradling his body against mine.

  “Will you stay the night?” I nuzzled the soft hair that curled at the nape of his neck.

  “Eh? What? Are you mad?” He did seem fond of that expression. He scrambled away from me, nearly toppling to the floor.

  “Oh, very well. Flee, if you must. Please extinguish the lamps and shut the door when you leave.” I closed my eyes and pretended to fall asleep. I would not let him see how his eagerness to be away hurt me.

  “Ashton. Ashton!” He shook my shoulder roughly.

  “What is it?” I asked, not really feigning impatience.

  “You won’t say anything about this!” He stepped into his trousers.

  I leaned up on my elbow and glowered at him. “Did I not already give you my word?”

  “Yes, but….” Even without my spectacles I could see he held the rest of his clothes to him as if to shield him from my defiling gaze.

  “Do you want a blood oath? Oh, go to bed, do! And rest assured I shan’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” I pulled the blankets over my shoulders.

  He didn’t leave immediately, though.

  “Was there something else?”

  “I… I….”

  “Good God, John, spit it out!”

  “Nothing!” He opened the door, peered out cautiously, and then raced away, not taking the time to close the door behind him.

  I sighed and rose. The fire was dying down, at any rate, and I’d need to put on my nightshirt.

  As I crossed to the door, I trod on something that caused me to spit out a curse and hop about, clutching my foot in my hand.

  When the pain finally eased, I bent to see what I’d stepped upon. It proved to be one of John’s shirt studs.

  It would be nice to keep it as a souvenir of this night, but perhaps if I returned it, John would realize my intent was not to cause him disgrace.

  I WAS in the billiards room the next night, and a slight sound at the door caused me to look up.

  “Yes?”

  “You could have ruined me.” John held out his palm. It contained the shirt stud. “Why didn’t you?”

  Should I be truthful and tell him I’d hopes of bedding him again, and that I feared the worry that I might betray him would put an end to those hopes? I shrugged and turned back to the billiard table. “Why are you so determined to see me as a blackheart? No, you needn’t tell me.” I was Awful Ashton.

  “I….” He swallowed so heavily I could hear him, and I straightened, curious in spite of myself as to what he might say. “I know I said it was only to be the one night—”

  “Hardly one night, John. Was it even an hour?”

  He flushed. “I should like another night.”

  I stared at him for a moment. “After the supper tray?”

  He nodded jerkily.

  “Very well.” And I turned away and resumed my game. It wouldn’t do to let him see how very pleased I was.

  THAT NIGHT and each night after, he would sneak into my chamber, spread himself upon his belly on my bed, and let me sodomize him until we exploded with muffled shouts and were both too exhausted to do more than pant breathlessly.

  The first night had set the pattern; we seldom fell asleep side by side, and on those rare occasions when we did, I would awaken in the morn, the coolness of the linens on his side of the bed would tell me he had been long gone.

  However, true to his word—he was a Hood, after all—he stopped calling me Awful. The long holiday ended, and we returned to school, I to Eton and the Hoods to Harrow, yet when once again we were at home, John would find excuses to come to me each night.

  MY TIME at Eton complete, I learned there would be no opportunity for me to go on to Oxford. Mr. Kirkby, who’d recently become Uncle Eustace’s man of business, informed me with somber eyes that there were no funds available.


  “What am I to do?” At best, I wasn’t a scholar.

  “I’d suggest you speak with Mr. Giffard, Master Ashton. Learn what you can of managing the lands that will come to you.”

  “Yes. I’ll do that. Yes.”

  And so I did, as one year followed the other….

  MISS PATRICIA Colbourne was the daughter of a Cit who had done well on ’Change. A widower whose deep-seated desire to mingle with the gentry—and marry his daughter off to whichever one chose to offer for her—had led to his purchase of the properties that lay to the southwest of Fayerweather, and he settled in to become a gentleman farmer. Although Mr. Colbourne had renamed the estate after himself, the neighbors showed their disapproval of his upstart manners by persisting in referring to it by its original name: Hadley Court.

  That was neither here nor there, however. Miss Colbourne had attracted Robert’s attention after church services one Sunday. “I’m smitten!” he’d declared, succeeding for the very first time in shocking Aunt Cecily. One must needs perforce be deaf and blind not to know she doted upon him and had higher aspirations for her favorite. However, she’d held her tongue, hoping perhaps that in the way of young men, his fancy would be caught when another came along.

  “You needn’t be distressed, Aunt Cecy,” he’d assured her, placing a kiss upon her cheek. “I shan’t make a decision until my time at Oxford is done.”

  Robert had completed his studies and graduated, and still he persisted in dangling after Miss Colbourne. Just this day, he had ridden over to Hadley Court to see her father and offer for her. He had obtained permission to pay his addresses to her and had brought her to Laytham Hall to introduce the family to his affianced bride.

  Now John turned pale as he watched his older brother dance attendance upon the chit. “Pray excuse me, Aunt Cecy. I’ve… business… er… elsewhere.”

  As he left the room, I stared after him thoughtfully. He had appeared to be out of sorts ever since his elder brother had brought up the possibility of finding himself a wife sometime earlier, and there were nights when he’d insisted I take him over and over again, and nights when he’d shunned me completely.