The Highwayman Came Riding

by Qeturah Edeli

  “I thought if you used it to tap out in front of you as you walked, you could feel whether there’s any change in elevation or an object in your path.”

  Elias stood as he familiarized himself with his new accessory. It was made of a very smooth, hard wood, and there was a protective metal tapered tip at the end he was to use to tap the ground. The handle of the cane felt as though it was carved from a different material.

  “Ivory,” Augustus murmured, putting his hand atop Elias’s, which cupped the handle. “It’s carved into a lion’s head.”

  “How did you ever afford this?”

  “I had some funds set aside from my allowance before my father disowned me,” Augustus explained. “But it doesn’t matter. Do you like it?”

  “Yes,” Elias replied, leaning until his forehead touched Augustus’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  * * * *

  Elias learned to use his cane faster than he expected. Within a fortnight, he did not know how he had ever gone without it. He no longer had to count paces, he tripped only a quarter of the time he once did, and, per Bess and Augustus, he could now walk upright—with the posture of a redcoat, they assured him—even on his own. Lord Nelson, jealous, apparently chewed its metal tip occasionally. There was the issue of remembering where Elias had put the damned thing when he sat for longer than a minute, but that was a small price to pay for its utility.

  “You look so sophisticated,” Augustus said one afternoon when they retired to the spare bedroom. They had several hours before the tavern opened below. “I think it’s the cane.”

  “Surely it’s not my classical features and Bess’s impeccable fashion sense?”

  “Surely not.”

  The cane clattered to the floor when Augustus took Elias’s face in his hands and kissed him breathless.

  “I had a light breakfast,” Elias said when they parted. Elias hovered close to Augustus’s cheek.

  “Oh, are you hungry?” Augustus asked.

  “Idiot,” Elias muttered, and bit Augustus’s earlobe.

  “Oh. Oh.” Augustus wrapped his arms around Elias and squeezed him. “Are you proposing we…” His hands dipped to cup Elias’s ass.

  “That’s exactly what I’m proposing.”

  Augustus undressed him slowly, patient fingers undoing Elias’s cravat and stripping him of his coat, waistcoat, shirt, and trousers.

  “You’re always undressing me,” Elias murmured as he heard Augustus start on his own clothes.

  “What can I say? You look better naked. We both do.” Augustus’s clothes hit the floor with progressively lighter thumps.

  “Do you know, I had been thinking about this for a while,” Elias said. “But I thought I’d give you more time to practice on your own.”

  “Ha,” Augustus said, taking Elias’s wrist and drawing Elias’s knuckles to his lips. He kissed them. “Fuck you.”

  “No, fuck you,” Elias replied, smirking as he pulled his hand back. “Prissy bitch.”

  “The pot calls the kettle black!”

  Elias’s smirk graduated to a grin. “Affluent bastard!”

  “Middle-class bugger!”

  “You like it that I’m a bugger,” Elias said, feeling for Augustus’s cock. “Don’t deceive yourself.”

  “So what if I do?” Augustus pecked Elias’s cheek.

  “Then you’re a upper-class bugger who’s such an unsalvageable pederast he fucks those below him in the social order.”

  “You like being below me, don’t you?”

  “So what if I do?”

  “Then you’re an incorrigible reprobate who likes taking it up the ass from someone on top of you.”

  “I’ve never pretended to be anything else.”

  Augustus grabbed Elias’s ass with one hand, his fingers dipping into Elias’s crack. Elias writhed involuntarily.

  “You like that, don’t you, bitch?”

  Elias seized Augustus by the nape of his neck and yanked his head forward. “You like doing it, don’t you, molly?” he asked as he pressed their foreheads together. He liked this better than the first time already; they were not as nervous.

  Augustus wrapped his arms around Elias and took his other cheek in his other hand, spreading them as he kneaded.

  “Fucking love it,” he whispered into Elias’s neck.

  Augustus let go of Elias’s ass, spun Elias around, and pushed him face-first against the wall.

  “You’re my personal plaything,” Augustus said, his lips pressed to Elias’s ear. His upper-class accent was as noticeable as Elias had ever heard it, and Elias was left with the impression Augustus did not adopt the inflection as much as suppress it. Elias shivered. Fuck, the way Augustus sounded made him hot. “Are you ready to take this?” Augustus demanded, grinding hard against Elias’s ass.

  “If you don’t hurry up, I’ll be done before you even get started.”

  Elias heard Augustus spit in an ungentlemanlike fashion, and then there was a wet finger at his hole, sliding inside so fast Elias gasped and slammed his forehead into the wall.

  “Careful, now,” Augustus murmured, stroking Elias’s hair as he felt him from the inside. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  Elias gave a low moan and Augustus slipped a second finger inside after a few minutes of merciless teasing. His own dick was rock hard, and he could feel Augustus’s stiffening cock pressed into his lower back.

  “Take it.” Augustus breathed into Elias’s ear.

  “Make me.”

  “You will,” Augustus said, licking the edge of Elias’s ear. “You’ll take everything, you have my word.”

  When he was suitably relaxed, Elias reached behind him and grabbed Augustus’s cock, giving it a tug. “Hurry up, I don’t have all day.”

  Augustus slid his fingers out and stroked the smooth area between Elias’s hole and his balls. He let him go, spit several times more, massaged himself vigorously with a wet sliding sound, then lined up his cock with Elias’s hole.

  “You’re going to take this like the horny little bitch you are.”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’re not going to say a word.”

  Elias’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not?”

  “No. Or I’ll stop.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  Elias balled his hands into fists and struck the wall with the pinky sides when Augustus thrust inside. They were using spit instead of olive oil, and the feeling was different: a bit rougher, less silken. Elias liked it. He bit his lower lip and moaned through his nose, pressing his forehead into the wall anew. His lower back was arched and he was standing on his toes, but his legs were shaking with the effort and sensation of being buggered.

  “That’s a good bitch,” Augustus said, wrapping his hand over Elias’s mouth. Elias breathed heavily into his palm, giving a small cry when Augustus thrust again. “Now keep your fucking mouth shut.”

  He fucked hard and fast, and Elias lost all control and was gasping, moaning, pounding the wall, tossing his head until Augustus let go of his face and grabbed hold of Elias’s hair, pulling his head to the side and baring his neck while he bit the soft flesh at the nape. He sighed roughly into Elias’s ear with every thrust.

  “Fuck…fuck yes. Your ass is mine you little whore, it’s mine. Say my name. Say my name…”

  Elias said nothing and let his ass be pounded.

  “Say it, bitch, say my name.”

  Elias covered his mouth with his hand to keep from screaming Augustus’s name. Would he even be able to stop at this point? He did not want to find out.

  Without pulling out, Augustus seized Elias by the shoulders and dragged him to the ground, landing on top of him and resuming thrusting once they were settled. He put a hand on Elias’s cheek and pushed his face into the floorboards.

  “That’s a good bitch, not falling for my tricks.”

  Augustus spanked Elias until his ass was sore and throbbing. Elias’s dick dripped and his moans grew higher and faster. August
us thrust the deepest and hardest yet, and Elias emitted something like a scream as he lurched forward, clawing at the floor. Augustus had touched something inside Elias did not know he had.

  “Shit, are you all right?” Augustus demanded. “I’m sorry.” Augustus released Elias’s face and pulled out. “Did I hurt you?”

  Elias shook his head.

  Augustus drew him up and around, presumably to look at his face. “Just talk to me for a minute. I need to know you’re not hurt.”

  “Not hurt,” Elias confirmed. “Now get back inside, idiot.”

  Augustus shoved him back to the floor facedown, hauled Elias’s hips up in the air none too gently, and plunged inside again. He was the deepest he had been yet, and Elias, resting on his elbows and rocking with the force of his movements, clapped both hands over his mouth and moaned into them.

  There was a knocking at the door.

  “Are you fucking or murdering each other in there?” Bess demanded.

  “You’re going to need to tell her you’re all right,” Augustus murmured into Elias’s ear.

  “Fucking!” Elias called, panting. “Best fuck of my life, actually!”

  “Second fuck of your life,” Augustus muttered.

  “Still the best. You didn’t come in two minutes this time.”

  “Shut your face before I sodomize that too.”

  “You could try.”

  “I will. Not today, but I will.”

  “I can hear you!” Bess yelled. “Elias, you fucking glutton!”

  “Then stop listening, you nasty little bitch!” Elias yelled back.

  “If anyone’s the nasty little bitch, I think that’s you,” Bess snarled, and stomped away.

  They resumed, and when Augustus stopped moving, Elias took the opportunity to set the pace, sliding back and forth over Augustus’s thick rod as he moaned his appreciation.

  “Fuck, that’s so hot. You’re taking it all, every sodding inch… Christ…oh God… I’m going to come…fuck.” He came as Elias remained on all fours and Augustus kneaded his ass, moaning and drawing hissing breaths between his teeth.

  “Turn over,” Augustus said thickly once he had regained control.

  Elias turned over and Augustus descended on his dick, taking it as far as it would go before it bumped into the back of his throat and he gagged, working Elias’s balls and stuffing a finger into his ass again, teasing his insides until Elias was grabbing fistfuls of Augustus’s hair and drawing his lips flat against his abdomen even as Augustus coughed and sputtered and heaved.

  “Take it, bitch, take it, make me come before I choke you.” Elias came, filling Augustus’s mouth with his seed. He let him go and lay back on the floor, spent.

  “That was fucking amazing,” Augustus murmured once he had caught his breath. “Fuck, that was the best thing I’ve ever lived. Come here.”

  And he kissed Elias on the mouth. Elias pushed him away. “Ugh, I just came in there, get your lips away from me.”

  Face-to-face, the floorboards digging into Elias’s back, Augustus took Elias’s chin in his hands and kissed him again. Elias turned away. “Ugh!” he repeated.

  “You like it.”

  “I do not. Your cum is one thing. My own is quite another.”

  “Priss.”

  “Fuck off.” Elias staggered to his feet. His ass ached, but in the best way.

  “Oh God, you’re still dripping. Fuck. You’re going to make me hard again.”

  “You have two hands. Use them. I’ve got to get ready for work.” Elias heard Augustus stand, then felt his hands at his waist. Elias squirmed away from him.

  “Aw, come now. I just want to hold you.”

  “Hold me? You pederast. No.” Elias pulled away and tried to remember where he’d left his clothes.

  “Did you forget where your clothes fell?” Augustus asked after a moment.

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll get them for you.”

  “Saint Cynthia strikes again.”

  Augustus handed Elias his clothes in a logical order, and he dressed.

  “Here, let me do your cravat.” He felt Augustus’s fingers at his throat and let him tie it.

  “Thank you.”

  Augustus kissed Elias lightly on the lips. “I’m going to tidy up. I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  That evening was a quiet one at the Peach and Pear, for Mr. Jones was not present to interrogate Augustus about his gallivanting with goats, so Elias could focus on the ghost of Augustus’s touch. He wondered whether the patrons could tell by looking at him he had just been fucked to within an inch of his sanity upstairs.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” Augustus muttered sometime late in the evening. “You never fixed your hair.”

  “Shit,” Elias said, immediately trying to flatten his messy curls.

  “Want me to plait it for you?”

  “Not in front of everyone, you fucking idiot!”

  “As if they can’t tell you’re my little bitch already.”

  “Shut up.”

  “He has a point,” Bess said. “No one’s asked me about him in ages. And he stares at you with such a stupid look on his prissy little face, it’s obvious how he feels about you.”

  “Miss Burgess,” Augustus snapped, “shut up.”

  “That’s my sister!” Elias retorted.

  “Pardon me,” Augustus said, sighing. “Miss Burgess, shut your fucking gob.”

  “Better,” Elias replied, when Bess gave a squawk of indignation.

  Elias let Augustus cuddle with him that night before they slept, albeit with a theatrical display of reluctance.

  * * * *

  Elias had never known such…contentedness. He could feel himself changing, and he did not care. He could tell his temper had grown milder, less explosive, and he knew his pianoforte was the best it had ever been. He could feel he was drifting from Bess, but this did not distress him or, as far as he could tell, her. While he had always supposed Bess would marry and leave him alone with their father at the Peach and Pear, he now did not fear the day, for he had Augustus to keep him company. Certainly, Bess, his sister and his twin, would always be the most important person in his life, but he no longer pined her absence in advance. He knew he would manage without her, and this meant Elias was nicer to the other young men about Kitwick, for he no longer saw them as evil forces who would lure his sister away from him.

  The banter Elias shared with Augustus was familiar and brought warmth to Elias’s cheeks. They might swear and say inflammatory things to each other, but that was because it was how they expressed their affection. Yes, affection. Elias could admit it, and perhaps that was the biggest change of all.

  Elias Burgess was smitten with Augustus Westwood and they both knew it.

  They were lounging in the parlor next to the kitchen late one dark December afternoon. The room was seldom used but for Elias’s pianoforte practice. They were sprawled on the couch, Augustus’s head in Elias’s lap and Lord Nelson curled on Augustus’s chest. Augustus was regaling Elias with stories of Town: of horses and carriages, cramped streets, shouting shopkeepers, teas and banquets, propositioning whores, boats and barges in the Thames, carolers in winter and orange girls in the summer, Punch and Judy shows and proper theater, and other endless excitements and activities of life in a bustling city. Augustus answered Elias’s questions patiently and in great detail as Lord Nelson purred and the rain beat against the windows.

  “And balls?” Elias asked. “Have you been to any?”

  “When I was younger, yes,” Augustus replied. “Before my father disowned me, I used to attend them regularly. I think he hoped I’d find a wife at one, but I had no time for girls when there were so many handsomely dressed boys about.”

  “Are there many people like us in London?”

  “Definitely more than in Kitwick.”

  “And how do they find each other?”

  “That’s a great mystery to me
. I do believe some can tell by looking, as I could tell with you. God knows enough rent boys have asked me for my time I must look a certain way to some too.”

  “I think it’s the cravat,” Elias said, trailing his hand to Augustus’s throat and thinking about undoing it.

  “Perhaps. I ought to change how I tie it, since I’m not advertising anymore and you can’t see it anyway.”

  “As if you need to advertise to me.”

  “You’re right,” Augustus said, drawing Elias’s hand to his lips. “I don’t.” He shifted. “You’re spearing me in the back of the head,” he complained.

  “Your fault,” Elias countered.

  “I was just thinking,” Augustus said slowly, releasing Elias’s hand, “now might be a good time to talk a little about what I get up to when I go to Town every once in a while.”

  Elias’s heart went from lento to vivacissimo in the span of a second. “Yes?” he asked, suddenly breathless.

  “I go there to visit the barrister who’s settling my father’s estate,” Augustus explained.

  “Didn’t you say he’d died over a year ago?”

  “Yes, but Daddy Westwood was filthy rich and his affairs were a mess, so it’s taking a while to settle things.”

  “But didn’t he disown you?”

  “In every way but the legal sense. He kicked me out without allowance and told me not to come back, but he didn’t remove me from his will.”

  “Does that change anything?”

  “It changes everything. I was only made aware of the fact I was still in the will—as his primary heir, no less—after I’d settled in at the Mitton baker’s and held you up once. The problem is, my father had debts to settle. Deep debts, to family and acquaintances and shops and inns and the like, which took a very long time. And my extended family claimed that since I was disowned, I could not inherit my due. They thought it was their due.”

  “That sounds pretty fucking complicated.”

  “It was stressful as hell,” Augustus admitted, lacing his fingers through Elias’s. “I hated it. But I got a letter earlier this week saying I had won my last case and will inherit the considerable remains of my father’s fortune, along with the house and land. I’ll get it all right away, too, since I’m already twenty-one.”