Velvet

Home > Other > Velvet > Page 9
Velvet Page 9

by Xavier Axelson


  He grunted my name once before he jerked his cock from me and milked the first spurt of seed from his prick. The moans coming from his mouth, and the rain-like spray of his sperm across my body made my mind reel and caused my cock to release its own juices as my body quaked with my second orgasm.

  When it was over, peace settled over the room and neither of us moved. I pressed my face to the chair bottom and could feel the wet stain my saliva and sweat caused during our sex. The air smelled of us; intensified male and animal. I thought foolishly of trying to capture the smell in my memory but as I tried, it seemed to fade, mocking my attempt to secure the experience in my heart.

  Only when we heard voices of men below did either of us attempt to move. When I tried to stand, I felt my legs quaver and Seton offered his hand to me.

  He helped me to my feet. “You should gather yourself for a minute before you walk.”

  My knees buckled. “I’m not sure what’s happened.”

  “I loved you as one man does another. It is a wondrous thing, but you should have warned me you were a virgin.”

  When I managed to stand on my own, he came close and kissed me.

  I opened to him and took his tongue into my mouth. When our lips parted, I saw his face, beautiful and flushed.

  “I could kiss you forever.”

  “Eternally and ever more,” I replied dreamily.

  His hands began to stroke my back. “Come, let me clean you. I have made you a mess.” He reached for a scrap of fabric from the table.

  When I saw his hand hovering over the velvet scraps, alarm made me twist towards him. “Not the velvet!”

  “I will use it! Why shouldn’t I?”

  I started to protest but when I felt the soft pressure of his hands on my skin, I sighed contentedly. How my body loved his fingers, his hands and mouth. When his touch lessened, a slow smile spread across his face.

  He’d pressed the soiled scrap of velvet to his face and inhaled luxuriously. “My mind cannot think quickly enough to capture this moment, so it will live instead, confined in your precious velvet.”

  My cheeks burned with a heated blush.

  “Is it so shameful, Virago? Can’t we love each other in the way a man loves a woman? The laws of this place are of this place alone. I have told you there are other places where we could love one another openly and without shame.” He lowered his thumb to my chin, and lifted it so my eyes met his. “You mustn’t be caged, but be free. You must promise me one day that you will go where the land is not ruled by ancient laws. Even if it is not with me, you must promise.”

  I put up my hand to touch his and nodded. “I will, I promise.”

  Seton chuckled. “Good, I am glad. Now shall we eat or shall we stay together and feast only on each other the entire day?”

  I shook my head. “If only I could. I will be lucky to finish the damned garment in time.” I gathered the vest from where it had been cast.

  Seton came and took the garment from me, held it up and made an approving sound.

  “It is made of velvet. Do you know it?” I asked, my eyes lingering on the curves of his chest. I felt my hunger for him spark and had to turn away to avoid succumbing to the pangs of want in my stomach.

  “I know it well. It is common where I come from, but I gather it is not so in this place.”

  I went about collecting my clothes and began to dress. “It is true. I have never seen velvet before this, and neither has Duir. He says he will make it unlawful for anyone who is not gentry to wear such finery. There is already a long list of such things and to think, I am the cause of such an addition to the law.”

  Seton laughed aloud and placed the vest on the table. “You are no guiltier than I am, for it is not your law, or Duir’s. The laws of this land have been passed down through time by those in places of power.”

  “I despise the laws of sumptuary,” I lamented as I drew my breeches up and started lacing them. “Perhaps it is because most of my life has been spent so close to the gentry. I’d forgotten how inane such laws are. I remember a peasant man hanged because he dared to wear the fur of a fox he’d hunted! The High Courts found him guilty of breaking the laws of sumptuary and stealing because the fox lived within the King’s forest and considered royal property.”

  “You cannot mean it!” Seton exclaimed.

  “Oh, my friend, there have been many such trials and executions. Though, in that case the man confessed to buggering one of the magistrate’s youngest daughters. But that fox fur was stuffed down his throat with a pole before he was hanged. I can remember the fur dangling from his slack mouth as he swung.”

  “And this happened under the good King Killian’s rule?”

  “Ahh, who can tell what stories went with which king? Killian was not always aware of The High Courts’ rulings. He helped many outside the kingdom and thusly relied on the Privy Council and his advisors to act in his absence. Many of these men served Killian’s father, who was a brutal and bloody ruler. My father was no coward, but even he trembled when he mentioned him.”

  “I tremble now, if only because I think all kings capable of pitiless violence. Their moods alone can decide if someone lives or dies. The wind can decide a man’s fate in these times.”

  Seton remained naked and went to where his lute rested, then to the window and sat upon the ledge. He saw the shocked expression on my face and grinned. “Fear not, my Virago, there are no men about, and if so, I am not wearing fur, and surely the statutes of apparel do not apply to one’s own skin!”

  I shook my head but could only grin at his boldness. He started to play and I watched him. His head cocked to one side as he gazed out the window and into the distance. I imagined he dreamt of a place where what one wore or who one loved did not decide one’s fate.

  After a lunch of cheese and bread from my pack and fruit from Seton’s earlier kitchen wanderings, I resumed my work. Seton remained on his window ledge, now dressed and lazily playing the lute. Occasionally his eyes would find me, and he would smile or wink.

  Duir arrived from the procession amidst cheers and shouts of admiration. Noise resumed within the castle, but we remained undisturbed. Most likely, I wouldn’t see Duir until before his coronation and not until the celebratory feast in the evening. It was as well. I enjoyed our solitude and my work became even more joyous in the company of Seton’s music.

  When the shadows grew long and twilight descended, I broke from my task, went to the window, and held the vest up to Seton. “Will you put it on?”

  Seton swung his leg in from over the ledge and stood. “It would be an honor to wear such a garment. I have always wondered how it would be to be the owner of such things, especially things made by one I have given my heart.” He lifted his shirt from his body excitedly, took the vest from me, and slid one arm then the other into it.

  I winced as his bare skin met the velvet. It would have been my doom if anyone had known I allowed Seton to wear Duir’s coronation vest, but something about him made me reckless.

  He stood before the mirror opposite my worktable. “How wondrously gifted you are. It is a truly fine vest and certainly fit for one such as Duir. It is plain why he wished to be the first to be seen in this velvet, and even more apparent why one would hang for wearing it! A curse on the laws of sumptuary imposed upon this country! If they were no more, I would wear your work proudly as a peacock!”

  At the mention of the word peacock, I was reminded of Sylvain, the dead birds and the sick girls at Therese’s. The thought of Seton returning to the house where an illness may have taken root struck me silent. It could be nothing, the birds could have died because they had been sick and the girls were prostitutes who picked up every cough within a radius of their beds. Surely…

  “Will I never have something this fine of my own?” Seton asked the mirror.

  I stood behind him, my thoughts a wild mix of fear and conjecture. When he touched my shoulder, I started. “I’m sorry, my thoughts are elsewhere. I’m exhausted
of this task and this day, and I have much to do.”

  Seton’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and I could tell he knew I wasn’t really answering him.

  “What is it?” he asked, concern plain in his voice. “Have I made you weary?”

  “I am weary, true. My brother talks of an illness in Therese’s house.” I yawned. My eyes ached from the needlework, and my hands trembled with exhaustion. I could no longer hold the concern in my head. Fortunately, Seton was my only audience.

  “What do you mean, an illness?” Seton removed the vest. He thrust it towards me as if it were made of fire.

  “The peacocks. Therese received four peacocks, two of which she killed for food, those who ate of them have fallen sick, and the two she wished as pets have died.” I saw disbelief cloud Seton’s face. “My brother believes the birds were plagued and I fear you may succumb to this illness if you return.”

  “Your brother cannot mean there is a plague!”

  I went to the window and closed the glass pane and gathered the vest from where Seton left it. “My brother, Sylvain, is blind. He trains animals to earn his way. In his blindness he has developed a sense of things I have come to trust. While I hope it is indeed coincidence, I would be a fool not to warn you. I can only hope it is as you say.”

  “The blind are very wise to things,” Seton agreed. “I have known many a wise man and woman without sight, but it is also foolish to panic now. Let us wait and see what the next day brings. I am lucky, for I believe Claus has been sent on some errand for Therese and is away from the house. If there is illness, he has hopefully been spared.”

  “But what of his return?”

  “Virago, we cannot control what is beyond the means of man. What do you wish to do? Sound a plague alarm the night before Duir’s coronation with only two dead birds and sick whores as evidence? You’d be deemed mad before anyone heeded your warning. No, we must wait.”

  I could only nod. My suspicions and concern were evident in my thoughts, but perhaps he was right. Sylvain could be wrong.

  “You’re tired, my friend.” He came to me to take my hands in his and brought them to his heart. “My love, am I a fool to name you as such? Tell me.”

  At this stark question, I flushed. I wished to tell him how my heart leapt when he said the words, but found myself unable to answer what was written so clearly across my heart. “I am very tired, but I must work on until it’s finished. When my fingers can do no more, I will know it is done. Now they ache with work unfinished. I will know.” I repeated more to myself than to Seton. Sheer creative need to complete the garment drove me to take my hands from Seton’s and gather the vest to me.

  “Ahh, but you do not answer. But I see it in your eyes. I am not blind and I see your truth clearly and will wait in tender anticipation for your answer. Have I not told you I would wait before?”

  I was about to answer, but Seton shook his head.

  “Don’t say anything. It is enough to be near you and see you as I do. Now you must rest. Take a break from this room and walk the courtyards you know and love so well. Return and work until the cathedral bells ring in the coronation day.”

  Seton reached for me. “Come and let us escape, if only for a short stroll.”

  I resisted, though I wished nothing more than to walk alongside him in the now twilit gardens

  “You should go, find Duir, and entertain him. It’s his last free night before tomorrow, when he wears the crown. You will be a comfort to him and his drunken consorts.”

  Seton remained before me, a defeated but knowing look on his face. “You would send me away when I would so rather entertain you? But I can see in your eyes the dogged determinedness of the muse burning, so I will leave you and do as you wish.” He bowed low and when he straightened, added, “But I will come for you before long. If I don’t, it is you who will fall to an illness in this dratted workroom—a cell is more like it.” He snorted as he cast a disapproving eye around the small space.

  “It is enough for me to complete the task and it is only for a short time. Once Duir wears the velvet, the secret of it will be out and I will return to my own shop and work there, most likely I will be asked to stitch vests for Auberon and the men who will stand by him during his wedding to Tienne.”

  Seton went to his lute and picked a tune, fast and amusing, and he sung aloud. “Ahh, the men of court are fools you see, dressed in things from overseas. And in one room a tailor sits, and dreams of his lover whose fingers pick, song and tune from one small instrument!”

  I laughed at his nonsense as he bowed before me.

  “What shall I tell the King of your progress, should he ask?” Seton asked as he rose.

  “You must tell him nothing! You have not seen me. It would be treason if he knew you’d seen his garment! Say nothing of the vest, for no one is to know of it before he wears it.”

  “What nonsense these laws are! How can a man be judged by his clothing?” Seton exclaimed before he gathered himself together and prepared to leave.

  I shrugged my acquiescence. “Perhaps there will be a time when what one wears is not dictated by any law but I am discouraged to hope for much.”

  Seton’s brow furrowed as though he wished to say more.. “I will leave the rest of my fruit for you. There is cheese and bread left and perhaps an apple or apricots. If I find anything more substantial, I will steal it to you.”

  “I am not a prisoner, but diligent. If I wished I could summon one of Duir’s servants and they would bring me meat and sweets. It is only because I am harboring you, I daren’t,” I joked.

  “You are a good man and I leave you now to your good work.” He went to the door to leave.

  I averted my eyes from him and had luckily gathered the vest to me in my lap because when he opened the door, Cale stood before him.

  “What goes on in here?” Cale boomed as he pushed past Seton.

  “My Lord,” Seton started to say, but was interrupted by a brusque and silencing wave of Cale’s hand.

  “I care not to hear from you, musician, get you gone. I only can imagine why you are in this room with the King’s tailor.”

  I stood and managed to cover the vest with a spare piece of another fabric. It would have been disastrous for both of us if Cale suspected Seton had seen Duir’s vest.

  Seton’s eyes caught mine. I could see his concerned hesitation to leave plain on his face. “My Lord, Cale, I must tell you—”

  “I will not repeat myself. Be gone before I think better of letting you walk from this place.” His voice took on a threatening timber. “Close the door behind you.”

  I couldn’t nod, couldn’t respond in any physical way for fear of Cale catching my actions. This would only aggravate an already fragile situation.

  Seton must have sensed this, for he bowed and removed himself from the room. The door shut with cold finality. From deep within, I felt a chill threaten to seize my heart.

  Uncertainty swelled within me. My fists were clenched tightly at my sides.

  “Well, Tailor, what answer do you have for a vagrant musician to be in this room with you?”

  I could smell ale on him, and realized celebration and drink had probably taken its toll on his being.

  This could save you, I thought. He’s drunk, and everyone knows Cale is unsteady at best when in his cups.

  Think, my mind cautioned. Be careful. Be clever.

  “His nerves drove him to seek my counsel. He sought my ear to display the tune he’d composed for Duir’s coronation feast, nothing more.” Despite the hot rage I longed to expel on the hulking, swarthy man whose eyes gleamed ominously before me, I remained calm.

  “Hmmph,” he grunted and moved closer to me. The heat of his body, the smell of his sweat made me want to pull away, but I held firm. My years with Duir had not only left me privy to his actions, but to the secrets of his men. Cale was a beast, but one you mustn’t turn from, you must maintain your ground no matter the situation. I’d seen him tear many a fighter a
part in the Summer Games.

  “You surely can’t imagine I would do anything to betray His Grace, My Lord Cale. It is only as I said—”

  He moved even closer. “You know, tailor,” his voice cut past mine like a knife through butter. “I don’t know what you do. Perhaps it was some deviant way the musician led you.” He thrust a meaty hand to my chest.

  Unprepared for this action, I fell onto the seat. I winced as I felt my weight fall on the vest. I was about to protest when I realized Cale stood before me with an erection. His face was that of a leering jackal. Fear crept up from my stomach.

  “Perhaps, while the cats away the mice will indeed play,” he muttered. The same hand that pushed me now found his erection and gripped it with ferocious need.

  “Cale.” His name sounded like a confused plea. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t rational, sane, or possible and yet I watched his fingers roughly begin to pull at the laces on his breeches.

  “I’ve always felt you were beyond your place in this court,” Cale spat, ignoring my plea. “You may be friends with a king but you are only a servant,” he concluded with a final yank on the front of his pants and his cock sprung free, hard, angry-red and glistening with pearly wetness. “Now I’m going to show you where your place is.”

  Confusion and shock was making me tremble. “You mustn’t.”

  I felt my fists begin to lift. If I dare hit him, it would be my end, but if I did nothing…

  “You dare tell me what I mustn’t do?” he barked, as he stroked his cock with one hand while the other recoiled as if he intended to strike me.

  “Please,” I added quickly. “There was nothing amiss, it was as I told you, I—”

  It was a mistake to speak for it unleashed some coil within his being and before I could finish the sentence, the hand hurtled towards me. I braced myself against the chair but instead of an impact, I felt the crushing force of his hand around my throat. I gasped and felt saliva spray from my mouth as he throttled me.

 

‹ Prev