The Captain and the Squire

by Catherine Curzon

  Tarquin unfastened one of Chris’ few buttons. “Oh, yes. I would’ve grabbed you out of the boat and had my way with you if there hadn’t been an audience.”

  “You must’ve been terribly frustrated.” He ghosted his lips across Tarquin’s face. “All pent-up and raring to go?”

  “I bloody was. Then you made me wait an hour—an hour!—to see you alone. But then, having the chance to ogle you at your oars, pulling on those two solid lengths of wood.” Tarquin opened another button and stroked Chris’ revealed chest. “You knew what you were doing. I was impressed.”

  “You’ve got me now.” He smiled. “I’m all yours.”

  “Shirt off, not that you were wearing it as such in the first place.” Tarquin swept the fabric from Chris’ shoulders and let it fall. Then he crushed his mouth to Chris’, unfastening Chris’ jeans by touch. He felt so strong, so wanted, and it was intoxicating. There was something intoxicating too in the rasp of his tweed against Chris’ naked skin, and the realization that underneath those jeans, his lover was naked.

  Tarquin had the jeans undone in moments, and without slipping them off Chris’ hips, slid his hand inside to stroke Chris’ erection. “You’re so very big, captain, aren’t you? Proud, peacocking sort of chap, with the appendage to match!”

  “It’s the pride of the city,” Chris crowed. “But it’s your cock I’ve been dreaming of, squire. Making a million doesn’t come close to that.”

  “If you receive your discipline to my satisfaction, then you may just get to see it.” Although Tarquin knew very well that Chris would already be able to see its outline through his trousers. A moment later Chris closed his hand over Tarquin’s erection, cupping it in his palm.

  “Oh, I know I’ll get to see it.” He stroked softly and licked his lips. “You can’t resist me.”

  Tarquin closed his eyes, savoring the moment. “You know, I could really take my time, but I’m not sure either of us wants to wait too long.”

  “I want my squire,” Chris told him in a low voice. “Hard and hot and very, very big.”

  He wants me. Tarquin nearly melted into a puddle of happiness, but the squire was made of sterner stuff.

  “Then that’s what you’ll get. But not without a thorough rasping first. Trousers off and on the bed, captain!”

  What utter joy he felt as he heard Chris’ jeans hit the floor in response to the command. Then, with a last kiss, his lover strolled over to the bed and draped himself among the cushions, a very saucy smile on his face.

  “Good chap.” Tarquin brought the cords over to the bed and began to tie the end of one of them to an upright at the bed’s head. “Stroke yourself, captain. I’m going to make sure these are tied firmly. I don’t want you breaking your bonds.”

  Almost lazily, Chris reached down and took his own erection in his hand. His gaze never left Tarquin as he began to stroke, but he parted his full lips to allow the softest gasp of pleasure to escape.

  “Yes, yes…that’s it, captain, I want you to stay hard for me until I’m ready to spank you.”

  Tarquin gave the cord a tug and, satisfied that it was firm, leaned down to Chris to kiss him before breaking away to tie another cord to the upright at the other side of the headboard. He couldn’t help but notice that Chris’ lips chased his, hoping for the kiss that he was denied, and still his hand jerked, just as Tarquin had commanded.

  Tarquin anchored the cord then, with one knee braced against the bed, wrapped the loose end around his hand and pulled. “Mmm…that holds fast. Should stop you from wriggling about too much!”

  “You’d like a little bit of wriggling, I bet?” Chris winked. “Just enough to get you even harder.”

  “You’ve got an arse made for wriggling—amongst other things.” Tarquin lay down on the bed next to Chris, his head propped up on his hand. “Now, are you going to be comfortable kneeling?”

  Chris stroked his free hand down Tarquin’s cheek. “Very comfortable and very happy.”

  Tarquin ruffled Chris’ hair. “Excellent. So kneel, captain. Arms outstretched and bottom ready.”

  And of course his captain kneeled, taking hold of one cord in each fist to steady himself as he waited for the squire to bind him. It seemed almost unreal, so perfect was the tableau. As Tarquin tied each wrist, he brushed his lips against Chris’ arms, which were now beautifully defined as he strained against the cords.

  “Tight but not too tight, captain?” Tarquin tapped his bottom. That earned him another of the little gasps and Chris glanced back at him over one sculpted shoulder. He gave a tempting wiggle of his bottom.

  “How do I look, squire? You can tell me, I won’t let it go to my head.”

  “You look exquisite. Debauched and exquisite.” Tarquin got off the bed and sat in an armchair by the window. He crossed his legs and leaned back, admiring the view. “You’ll have to wait, captain. If you’re going to look gorgeous, then you’ll have to give a fellow like me time to take in the sight.”

  “You absolute bastard!” Chris laughed. “I love it!”

  Tarquin had no idea what he was doing, merely going on instinct. And it seemed to work. “Of course you do. Now, captain—tense those buttocks for me.”

  And as Chris obeyed, Tarquin was reminded of the shower again, of those assured hands lathering decadent soap bubbles over the buttocks that were currently tensing. Just for him.

  “And are those buttocks ready to be spanked, captain?”

  “They’re very ready.” He looked over his shoulder at Tarquin again, eyebrows raised. “Are you ready to spank them, squire? I’m a demanding sort of fellow!”

  Tarquin left his seat and stood beside the bed, arms folded. “You are, you naughty thing! Now, what would you like to be spanked with? I’m afraid, in my haste to come over and give you a good seeing to, I left my riding crop in the tack room. Will my hand suffice, captain, or is there something else you’d like me to use instead?”

  “Use your hand,” Chris purred. “Skin on skin.”

  “Good. I’ll work up a sweat doing this, so it’s time for the jacket to come off.” Tarquin shrugged it off and carefully hung it over a blanket box. He leisurely unfastened his cufflinks and laid them on the bedside table where Chris could see them, then rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. As he climbed onto the mattress behind Chris, he asked, “How’s that erection of yours? No coming until I give you permission, remember.”

  “I’m not just a pretty face,” he teased. “I have amazing self-control. Do your worst, squire, let’s have some fun.”

  Tarquin took a deep breath and brought back his arm. He held it there for a moment, committing everything about this to memory, then he swung his arm forward and with a grunt, slapped his palm across both buttocks. Chris gave a cry of pleasure, jolting forward as the spank landed. He arched his back and begged, “Give me another.”

  Tarquin rubbed Chris’ buttock before slapping it again, a little harder this time. The sound was more like a groan and Chris tensed his shoulders then shifted backward almost imperceptibly, presenting that too-tempting bottom again.

  “Very good.” Tarquin reached around to Chris’ erection and gave him a couple of firm rubs. “And still hard. Excellent.”

  He cracked his knuckles, preparing for another spank, and delivered it with aplomb.

  “Yes!” Chris shouted, arching his back to show off that glorious physique. “Bloody hell, squire, you’re a talented man!” He turned his head. “Kiss me.”

  Tarquin kissed him sloppily and pressed his chest to Chris’ back, hoping he would enjoy the rasp of the tweed against his skin. He stroked Chris’ stomach, then teased his erection. It never got dull, feeling that warm length in his hand. How could he ever have tried to convince himself he was straight when this…this was perfect?

  Chris moaned into their kiss, pushing his tongue against Tarquin’s and sending a dart of heat through his blood to his groin. He pushed back again, his toned nakedness pressed to that respectable tweed. Agai
nst Chris’ lips, Tarquin sighed, “Do you want my cock, captain? Do you want your squire to fuck you?”

  “Hard,” he begged, breathless. “Fuck me. I need your cock, please.”

  Oh bloody hell, I’ve still got my trousers on!

  But Tarquin was wearing nothing underneath them. He unbuttoned himself and let his erection press against Chris’ leg.

  A shiver of pleasure ran through Chris as he breathed, “Are you going to make me wait?”

  Tarquin whispered against Chris’ neck, “In a sense. I’m going to ask you where your johnnies are.”

  “Top drawer to my left.” He nodded toward the bedside table. “Everything we need for hours of fun.”

  Lightheaded, Tarquin went to the bedside table. Chris was quite right—there were enough supplies for a three-day orgy in there. Not that Tarquin had ever attended one.

  He prepared himself, then got back onto the bed and ran his hand over and between Chris’ buttocks. “You look delicious, you know that? I have a mind to fuck you tied up, like this. What do you say, captain?”

  “I say yes,” he declared with a toss of his dark blond mane. “As hard as you like, squire!”

  Tarquin gasped. No one had ever said that to him before, and his cock twitched in anticipation.

  “I intend to!” he replied, and pressed the tip of his erection to Chris’ buttocks. As soon as he entered him, Tarquin held Chris tight around his waist with one arm, and with his free hand took Chris’ erection. He clung on, wanting nothing more than to be as close as he could to this man, to feel every sensation as their bodies joined. And as they finally became one, Chris gave the most intensely erotic moan of pleasure he had ever heard. It was low and breathless and his back arched again, his body pressing back toward Tarquin.

  “Fuck me,” he whispered. “I need you.”

  Tarquin pressed his lips to Chris’ neck, and after a couple of gentle thrusts, Tarquin thrust harder, with swift, firm bucks of his hips. He groaned through his kisses, his body tingling with a depth of sensation he’d never known before.

  We need each other, Tarquin realized, and he brushed his lips against Chris’ ear. “I need you too, Chris. I mean, captain…”

  “You’re so good at this.” Chris strained against his bonds, every muscle taut, every contour defined. “Don’t stop— Spank me again—”

  Tarquin had never known lust or passion like it. Even as he went on thrusting, he did his best to reach between them and slapped Chris’ buttock. Then he paused and said, “Consider yourself disciplined, captain,” before going on.

  Chris thrust against him, his head thrown back in a transport of pleasure. He sighed Tarquin’s name, pulling against the bonds again when he said, “I want to touch you—”

  Tarquin stroked his way down Chris’ arm to his wrist. “You want me to untie you?” he panted.

  “I— Maybe just one?” Chris said. “I just need to touch you.”

  “I would very much like you to touch me,” Tarquin murmured against Chris’ neck. He toyed with the knot, teasing Chris a little longer, then unknotted it with one pull. Tarquin stroked Chris’ wrist. “Not sore, I hope?”

  He shook his head and reached back, tangling his fingers in Tarquin’s hair. “You bloody gorgeous thing.”

  “Darling Chris, you wonderful man.” Tarquin roamed his hands across Chris’ body, tweaking his nipples before grasping his erection, his strokes matching his thrusts. “I need you, old thing! I really do.”

  “My man,” Chris said, his voice strained with exertion. He was right on the edge, Tarquin knew, ready to topple into ecstasy.

  Holding their bodies as close together as he could, each thrust measured and deep, Tarquin whispered, “You have my permission to come.”

  Chris’ head tipped back against Tarquin’s shoulder and their lips met again, hungry and fierce. Tarquin felt a ripple run through his lover’s body then Chris finally surrendered, fountaining over Tarquin’s hand. Chris’ bliss seemed to pass into Tarquin and he trembled in every limb as, with one final thrust, his climax coursed through him. He kissed Chris’ shoulders as their orgasms shuddered out.

  “Tarks…” Chris sighed, stroking Tarquin’s hair. “Bloody hell.”

  “I can’t quite believe…that really was us, wasn’t it?” Tarquin said with a chuckle. “I’m not having a really saucy dream, am I? Good Lord, that was incredible!”

  “Definitely us,” was the cheery reply. “And you’re definitely wearing tweed. And I’m definitely not.”

  Tarquin nibbled Chris’ earlobe, then said, “Lie down, darling—you must be exhausted. I need to strip out of these things.”

  Chris sank onto the covers. “Unknot me, Tarks.”

  Tarquin untied the last bond and kissed Chris’ wrist. Gazing at the delicious sight of his naked, debauched and very happy lover, Tarquin stripped off the rest of his clothes. He let them fall wherever gravity decided, then gladly slumped down on the bed beside Chris and hugged him.

  “You’re all warm and lovely,” Tarquin said. Chris gave a happy murmur and snuggled into Tarquin’s arms.

  “And very, very happy,” he said. “With you.”

  Tarquin was quiet for a moment, his thoughts gathering themselves together once more. He glanced over at one of the silk cords and chuckled. “I think the shade of old de Sade would be very impressed. I know it’s naughty to use museum pieces like that, but why not have some fun with them? It’s what they’re for, after all! And they held up bloody well.”

  “Precision French engineering,” Chris teased. “Built for strapping chaps like us, obviously.”

  “Obviously.” Avoiding Chris’ gaze, Tarquin danced his fingertips across his chest. “You know, I felt so terribly aroused seeing you bound like that. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Ready—wanting to be debauched. And trusting. It was very intense, darling, but such wonderful fun.”

  “I knew I could trust you,” Chris told him, tightening his arm around Tarquin’s waist. “I don’t know why, I just… You’re bloody lovely, Tarks, and I don’t know how often you hear that.”

  “Erm…not all that often, I must admit.” Tarquin stroked his fingertips down Chris’ spine. “I really like it when you say it, though!”

  “You’re lovely,” he said. “And sexy. Very sexy, actually. My sexy, hot man.”

  “Something else I don’t hear very often!” Tarquin said, flustered. “Oh, I’m so glad I found you, Chris. You’re wonderful fun!”

  “So you really haven’t let your inner squire out before? Then we need to enjoy getting to know him…and I get to enjoy getting to know Tarquin at the same time.”

  Tarquin curled a length of Chris’ hair around his finger, charmed by the different shades of gold as they caught the summer light. “He’s there inside me somewhere, the squire. All the time. But I have to be good old Tarquin to the world and, well, I can’t begin to tell you how pleasant it is to let the squire out on the rampage!”

  “Any time you want to, I’ll be here.” Chris ran his hand down Tarquin’s back. “This is home for me now, if the lady of Delphi agrees to move in!”

  “I’m sure we can convince her.” Tarquin kissed Chris’ forehead then said, “Can I pop into your bathroom for a moment? Loathe as I am to leave you.”

  “Help yourself. I’ve got a treat for you when you get back—that little gift I was going to drop round!”

  Tarquin slipped from the bed, whistling on his way to the bathroom to freshen up. He didn’t normally stride about naked with such confidence, but today was different. Today, the squire had shown Tarquin how to take charge, and how to have a bloody good time doing so.

  He heard Chris moving around the bedroom again, no doubt bearing the gift he had teased. Tarquin wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted it. He wanted to enjoy his gift with his lover on this perfect sunny Saturday.

  Tarquin headed back to the bed. He was more than aware of Chris’ appreciative gaze, which felt like a warm caress against Tarquin�
��s body. “Is that… My word, it is, isn’t it? Pudding!”

  “It’s a scrumped-fruit-crumble!” Chris held up two bowls. “With decadent ice cream, of course!”

  “I should expect nothing else than scrumped apples and decadent ice cream.” Tarquin took one of the bowls as he got back into the bed. He gave a long-suffering squire-like sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to spank you again?”

  “What can I say?” He blinked, all innocence. “I love to rile my squire!”

  “You like to get his dander up, eh?” Tarquin said, in the most squirely tones he could manage. He snuggled into the bed against Chris, then took a mouthful of the crumble. It was the most extraordinary pudding—the crumble was crunchy and sugary, and the fruit so tart, and as for the ice cream— “But you also seem to be using some very impressive cookery skills to win over the squire too. How did a city canary like you learn to cook like that?”

  “Honestly?” Chris kissed Tarquin’s shoulder. “When I was at uni I didn’t want kebabs and pot noodle every night, so I broke out the cookbooks and started with boiled eggs!”

  “Sensible fellow!” Tarquin had another mouthful, and half-closed his eyes in delight as he savored it. “You’ll make someone a wonderful husband!”

  “Nobody would be daft enough to have me, no matter how tasty my crumble is.” Chris gave a gentle laugh and let his head rest on Tarquin’s shoulder for a moment. “I have to keep the Oracle of Delphi on side. If I lose this place, I don’t even have a car to sleep in anymore!”

  “So you’ve spent—” But Tarquin stopped himself. If Chris had hired a contractor to overhaul the grange, then it would’ve cost a packet. But he’d done all the work himself. Not that paint and fixtures and fittings were cheap, but surely it wasn’t all that much for someone who’d made a mint in the city and was retiring in their thirties. Then again, Tarquin had witnessed him selling his car. Something, somewhere, had gone wrong for Chris. “Far be it for me to intrude, but…I thought you were in the pink. Are you…are you in difficulties? Shares plummeted or suchlike?”

  “Oh, you know how it is!” He gave a careless wave of his spoon. “Got involved in a charitable scheme, found out said scheme is looting indigenous treasures across Asia and laundering them for cash… I had a choice, Tarks. Say nothing and get rich or blow the whistle and lose my investment. Unfortunately, tanking that fund would unsettle others and cost me a packet. I actually called Beardsley for advice—nobody played the markets like he could—and he advised I should count the cash and forget the peasants. I blew the whistle that night. I’m not quite broke, but the days of Astons are done. Having this place to work on was…well, I was shell-shocked. I got here and just started ripping down wallpaper, tearing up floorboards… Sweating, I guess. And it kept me occupied until the clouds lifted, if that makes sense? It’s gone down badly with the family too, not exactly absolutum dominium. The city’s pretty unkind to a chap with a conscience and no cash to splash!”