Fic: Whispers After Dark: Chapter 8
Previous parts here
Not sure how this chapter will be received. Some of it is for astarte99 she'll know which bits, I hope. But I won't dedicate this to her, as the context is a little odd.
Details and general warnings:
Whispers After Dark is an all human AU set at an English boy's public school somewhere around 1850, think Tom Brown's School Days. I haven't been overly specific about the era in terms of research, and I realise some of it is anachronistic, but in this case I really don't care that much.
However, because of the setting, some of the boys will be underage - fifteen at minimum - in case that squicks anyone. There will also be non-con, semi-non-con, bullying, fagging, spankings, the ocassional caning over a desk and private oral tutorials. Needless to say it is NC-17, this chapter most definitely.
Chapter 8
Harris found Wesley an hour or so later and in much the same way as William had. Unlike William, however, he was quite prepared to believe Angelus had inflicted those hurts on his friend for, as he told Wesley, he had been there himself a little under a year ago. For a few moments Harris considered going against every school tradition and informing a Master, but he quickly rejected the idea; the last thing he needed on top of his lowly status was to become known as a tale teller. Instead he put his faith in Oz, relying on his friend’s influence to protect Wesley as it now protected him.
This time Wesley allowed himself to be helped and together the two boys headed for one of the more secluded bathing pools so that Wesley could clean himself properly. The day was still fine and although there was a distinct chill in the air, it was warm enough that Harris stripped down alongside his friend to bathe as well.
Under the influence of Harris’ inane chatter, Wesley found himself starting to relax. He didn’t forget - would never be able to forget - but the fear was starting to recede, as was the guilt. If Harris had also been a victim, then surely the blame lay entirely at Angelus’ door, thus exculpating Wesley entirely.
When they were clean, the boys swam to the bank and amused themselves throwing stones at the moorhens that poked nervous beaks from the reeds. They told stories; Harris of his escapades at St. Peter’s and the school he had attended previously, and Wesley about the days before his mother left, when his home life had been happy and carefree.
They were so engrossed that neither boy noticed the small gang approaching and both dived for their clothes when a voice called, “Price. I want a word with you.”
It was Lindsey MacDonald and, hard on his heels, Meers, Levinson and three other boys. Harris and Wesley were quickly surrounded, their clothes snatched from their hands and thrown in to the pool where they floated momentarily like drab ducklings before deflating and sinking sadly under the water.
Meers caught Wesley by the back of the neck and pushed him forward onto his knees in front of MacDonald. Harris tried to defend him, only to find his arms grabbed and twisted behind his back until he had no option but to bend to relieve the pressure on the straining joints.
Above the singing in his ears, he heard MacDonald say, “You told William it was my brother who inflicted these marks on you. Why?”
“Because he did,” came Wesley’s quiet reply and Harris flinched when he heard the crack of a hand on skin.
“Liar! You should be sent-down for uttering such untruths! My brother was not present when this came about and Levinson here will swear to it, won’t you boy.”
“I’ll say whatever you tell me to,” Jonathon mumbled and Harris’ stomach clenched in hatred. Had no one except he and Osborne the guts to stand up to these bullies?
“Leave him be, MacDonald!” he yelled and then yelped as his arms were pushed up further.
“Ah, young Harris.”
MacDonald’s boots appeared on the ground and suddenly Harris was able to stand. He did so, shaking his arms out gingerly as the blood rushed back into his fingers and his joints protested their treatment. A quick glance in Wesley’s direction showed his friend still on his knees with fresh blood on his lips. That swine MacDonald must have reopened the cuts in Wesley’s mouth.
“I have a message for you as well. Or, more accurately, for your friend, Osborne.”
Harris turned and looked MacDonald in the eye, telling himself it was only Angelus that kept the little pip-squeak safe, and sooner rather than later the older boy would be gone from the school. What fun then would be had at this bully’s expense.
“The message?” he asked coldly.
“Tell him Ripper sends his regards to Osborne’s mother, and says that if he doesn’t keep to the arrangement, he will be sure to see certain information is made public.”
**
Ripper was reading when Lindsey got back and, rather than disturb him, the younger boy made to slip away.
The question caught him halfway out of the door. “Did you deliver my message?”
“I did,” Lindsey replied, reluctantly shutting the door with himself of the inside. So much for his quick game of fives before sunset and prep for the next day’s lessons.
“Excellent.” Ripper closed his book with a resounding snap and continued, “And did that unpleasant young tyrant confirm my suspicions?”
“According to Meers, Brolly found him directly and told him of William with no encouragement.”
“As I thought,” Ripper nodded. “No matter, he had his punishment before breakfast and,” he laughed, “I am thinking, this afternoon as well.”
Lindsey’s gaze shot towards the bedroom and Ripper, seeing the direction it took, said, “Nothing so crass, my boy. He was simply asked to help your brother prepare William.”
Schooling his features into carefully practised neutrality, Lindsey nodded. However some clue of his true feelings must have escaped because suddenly Ripper was looking speculatively at him. “In fact, I would say Brolly has suffered enough. Go tell him his presence is required and that you are to aid Angelus in whatever needs to be done.”
Ethan didn’t need telling twice and was out of the door and running up the narrow private stair to Ripper’s rooms before Lindsey had stopped speaking. That left Lindsey with his brother and the two younger boys; Wells who was hauling a large kettle of water towards the yard and William, lying supine on the table, his legs held high and spread in medical stirrups.
“Is it completed?” Lindsey asked hopefully
“Nearly. The final quart and-” Angelus began, glancing up from his task and laughing at his sibling’s relieved expression. “Don’t fret, little brother, the worst is over.”
Lindsey shrugged and feigned not caring. “I don’t understand why he insists upon it. You never have with me.”
“Ripper considers himself the sophisticate and follows the teachings of his mentor,” Angelus explained and held out a soft rubberised bag. “Hold this,” he said, before continuing, “And Herr Eyghon, had something of a mania for cleanliness. I have heard Ripper claim that he would refuse to enter someone unless the correct rituals had been performed.”
“Still,” Lindsey said, doing as he was bid, “It seems a little excessive.”
Angelus busied himself for a moment and then stood up, taking the bag back from Lindsey’s hands, raising it slightly and giving it a gentle squeeze. On the table, William groaned and rolled his head, his eyelids fluttering open.
“Damn,” Angelus said, “the laudanum is wearing off and I dare not give him more. It will react something rotten with the hashish later.”
“So give him some of that,” Lindsey suggested, knowing firsthand how uncomfortable this procedure could be.
Angelus shook his head. “Only the single cake remains. Young William will have to manage without. Secure his arms, Lindsey, and use the gag; Ripper won’t be happy if his tea is served with a noisy accompaniment.”
Picking up the leather and wooden gag from the tray of utensils on route, Lindsey went to the head of the table and slipped the bar into the boy’s mouth, ensuring it was wedged tightly between his teeth before buckling it behind his head. Then he took William’s wrists in one hand and looped a single strap around both. If the boy really started to fight, Lindsey would have to do more, but for most this sufficed and left Lindsey free to help Angelus if needed.
“Got him?” Angelus asked and, when Lindsey nodded an affirmative, he lifted the bag higher and gave it another squeeze.
When William groaned again and began to squirm, Lindsey leaned over and massaged his belly, feeling the familiar bloating of intestines distended with cleansing fluid.
“Slower,” he said to his brother and Angelus lowered the bag a few inches, reducing the speed at which the water flowed into the boy’s body.
“Another half pint and we’re there,” Angelus said, checking the level, then muttered more to himself than anyone else, “Stop being such a stubborn ass, William. Ripper is not the only one who wishes to take tea.”
Whether it was the mention of his name or some other factor entirely, William chose that moment to surface from his stupor and immediately began to thrash, doing his best to force screams past the restriction in his mouth. Lindsey threw himself over the boy’s chest, using one hand to secure the wrist straps and his body weight to control William’s wilder movements.
For a second it looked as though William may break free. He bucked, forcing a yelp from his captor, and twisted his shoulders rolling his body first one way and then the other. Lindsey gripped the edge of the table and hung on, wishing he were bigger and heavier so as to better pin the boy down. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, William went limp and his struggles ceased completely. Lindsey heaved a sigh of relief and pressed his forehead to the table as he caught his breath, but he didn’t dare move away.
Angelus watched him, a wry smile on his face, until his brother looked up and answered in kind. “Next time do up the straps properly,” he said before lifting the bag those few inches higher.
The rest of the water was delivered without mishap, though Lindsey could feel William shaking beneath him and hear his sharp nasal pants as his abdomen was expanded to unnatural proportions. Then came the interesting part.
“Is he still awake,” Angelus asked.
Lindsey twisted so he could see William’s face with its eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. “Yes.”
“William? Listen to me boy. I’m about to take this out and you must close yourself tight. Understand?”
A flicker of defiance passed over William’s face and Lindsey hissed, “If you do not, he will start again and this time make it two quarts.”
That brought a nod of comprehension and a gulping swallow. Lindsey grinned and turned back to his brother. “Haul away, Angelus, he knows the score.”
Watching William’s face was an amusement in itself, Lindsey discovered. From the flare of his nostrils to his squeezed shut eyes as he fought his body’s desire to rid itself of the unwanted water, William’s face was an encyclopaedia of responsiveness and as he watched Lindsey found himself becoming increasingly annoyed with Ripper for keeping this treat to himself. Eventually of course they would all get to play but not until the gilt was off the lily and even then it would be under Ripper’s supervision.
A deep moan from the chest below him suggested William was in trouble and Lindsey called out, “Make it quick!”
Angelus got there in time, much to both brothers’ relief, and replaced tenuous human muscle with the security of a well-oiled plug. William sagged, his clenched fists and bulging cheeks relaxing and, finally trusting that the last of William’s temper was spent, Lindsey leant back from the table, staying close enough to leap back on board should the necessity arise. Now all that was left was the waiting; the more difficult part in Lindsey’s opinion..
He hated this room, it was small and bleak and held too many memories for him ever to be comfortable here. Ripper’s father had paid for its construction when his son convinced him that the bathing pools were insufficient to his needs. It lay below the main rooms, linked by a single staircase, and opened onto a small private yard with piped water and drains. The tiled floor, though easy to clean, radiated a bone-chilling cold during both summer and winter, and only the fierce stove in the corner made the room bearable. Lindsey stood staring first at the white washed wall and then at his boots before saying, “Twenty minutes?”
“Or so,” Angelus replied more concerned with lighting his cheroot than conversing with his brother.
That short avenue of distraction exhausted, Lindsey turned his attention elsewhere. The only other things of interest were the various pieces of equipment and William, and Lindsey was familiar enough with Ripper’s toys that he felt no need to see more. Thus he turned his attentions to the boy, and more specifically his newly shaved genitals. It itched, Lindsey remembered, the first time the hair was stripped away and he peered around William’s knee to see how well Angelus had done the task. Perfect. Not a nick nor a stray hair marred the pale exposed skin; his brother was something of an artist when it came to work like this.
William’s cock, large and angry looking as though he had been hard for hours, pressed tight against his distended belly and Lindsey considered it for a while, remembering how his own shaft had reacted to the influx of water, before wondering aloud, “I wonder why that happens?”
Angelus glanced up at the cock-stand in question and shrugged, drawing deep on his tobacco and letting the smoke waft slowly from his mouth.
Now Lindsey was truly curious and he leaned down until he was almost at eye level, reaching out and running a finger from base to tip. William mewled and bucked his hips slightly, his cock twitching as a single drop of liquid bubbled from the slit. Lindsey caught it on his finger and stood up, staring into William’s eyes as he sucked it into his mouth.
“Tasty,” he chuckled as a remarkable blush swept over the boy’s face and he turned his head away.
“Stop teasing, little brother,” Angelus said, stamping out his cheroot and strolling over. He gave William an appraisingly look, his gaze lingering on the object of Lindsey’s attention and a smile, which would have seen Lindsey in full rout had it been turned on him, curled the corner of his lip.
Silence reigned for a full half minute before Lindsey broke and said, “He does look in terrible straits, poor boy. Do you think we should lend assistance?”
A muffled squeak from the table proved the deciding factor and the brothers moved into place like clockwork; Lindsey to William’s head, and Angelus to the boy’s upraised legs. The first touch of Angelus’ hand saw William straining to move his hips, his feet swaying in the stirrups as he fought to brace himself. Lindsey placed a palm on William’s chest, his fingers stroking and gentling, searching out nipples that already strained like moles’ noses pushing up from the dirt. His tongue found them soon after, followed by his teeth, and he swapped between them, using his fingers and his mouth to tweak and nibble.
After so long and under such expert hands, it took mere moments for William to start jerking, his jaw working spasmodically around the gag and his eyes rolling back in his head. But Angelus was ready for him and in a deft move clamped restraining fingers around the base of William’s shaft, grinning smugly at Lindsey who leapt away just in time as William whined and tried to curl around the sudden constriction.
“That was dastardly trick, Angelus,” Lindsey complained, probing at the bruise on his face that had come close to being whacked yet again. “Give a chap a little warning.”
Angelus simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his brother’s dramatics, and resumed working William’s cock, keeping the strokes slow and steady. Lindsey, having decided discretion was the better part of valour, opted to stand at the head of the table and continued his previous occupation of watching William’s face. The boy really was beautiful when he suffered, his summer eyes brimming with tears, his cheeks flushed and ballooning, lips swollen around the wooden bar that left tiny bruises at the corners of his mouth.
Lindsey found himself swaying forwards, pressing his groin into William’s hands where they hung over the table edge. They felt exquisite, firm against his own increasing rigidity, fingers flexing to a rhythm he could follow. Fumbling, Lindsey loosened his braces and released his erection, groaning when it met warm sweat slicked skin. He leaned further, bracing his hands beneath William’s armpits and thrust quickly and surely, his head hanging down so he could still catch glimpses of that bewitching face.
Watching his brother from the other end of the table, Angelus grinned and ducked his head to hide the expression. Despite growing into this life as though born to it, Lindsey still retained the ability to charm Angelus with his naive ways, and this was a classic example. If he could see Lindsey’s face at this moment, Angelus knew he would find those pretty lips damp and parted, tongue curling out as he focused entirely on fulfilment.
The cock in his hand swelled again and this time Angelus continued his punishing strokes, eager for his own release. Behind his gag William wailed, his entire body convulsing as stretched muscles contracted sending waves of agonizing pleasure crashing through him. Angelus grabbed the plug and pressed it hard up into the boy’s channel eliciting more muted screams and a violent twist of hips that sent pulse of come splattering up into Lindsey’s face.
Lindsey blinked and looked up; the fluid dripping from his long eyelashes and trickling down his cheek. When it reached his lips, his tongue greedily gathered a few drops, the taste bringing the curve of a smile to his slightly open mouth. He was the embodiment of debauched innocence and Angelus moaned, grasping his own erection.
“Here. Now,” he ordered.
There was no hesitation and Lindsey was soon on his knees, caressing his brother’s cock through the stout material and then loosening is trousers. The first sweep of his tongue had Angelus gasping and buckling at the knees and he tugged Lindsey’s hair, trying to get him to slow down. Lindsey ignored him and, for once, Angelus allowed the disobedience to pass unpunished, it felt too good to stop now. As Lindsey’s throat closed around him, and the tip of his tongue probed and pushed against the base of his shaft, Angelus threw back his head panting as wildly as William had before. He could feel the boy’s gaze on them, bearing reluctant witness to this exhibition of his future role and, as he spilled into Lindsey’s willing mouth, Angelus opened his eyes and blew William a kiss.
Not sure how this chapter will be received. Some of it is for astarte99 she'll know which bits, I hope. But I won't dedicate this to her, as the context is a little odd.
Details and general warnings:
Whispers After Dark is an all human AU set at an English boy's public school somewhere around 1850, think Tom Brown's School Days. I haven't been overly specific about the era in terms of research, and I realise some of it is anachronistic, but in this case I really don't care that much.
However, because of the setting, some of the boys will be underage - fifteen at minimum - in case that squicks anyone. There will also be non-con, semi-non-con, bullying, fagging, spankings, the ocassional caning over a desk and private oral tutorials. Needless to say it is NC-17, this chapter most definitely.
Chapter 8
Harris found Wesley an hour or so later and in much the same way as William had. Unlike William, however, he was quite prepared to believe Angelus had inflicted those hurts on his friend for, as he told Wesley, he had been there himself a little under a year ago. For a few moments Harris considered going against every school tradition and informing a Master, but he quickly rejected the idea; the last thing he needed on top of his lowly status was to become known as a tale teller. Instead he put his faith in Oz, relying on his friend’s influence to protect Wesley as it now protected him.
This time Wesley allowed himself to be helped and together the two boys headed for one of the more secluded bathing pools so that Wesley could clean himself properly. The day was still fine and although there was a distinct chill in the air, it was warm enough that Harris stripped down alongside his friend to bathe as well.
Under the influence of Harris’ inane chatter, Wesley found himself starting to relax. He didn’t forget - would never be able to forget - but the fear was starting to recede, as was the guilt. If Harris had also been a victim, then surely the blame lay entirely at Angelus’ door, thus exculpating Wesley entirely.
When they were clean, the boys swam to the bank and amused themselves throwing stones at the moorhens that poked nervous beaks from the reeds. They told stories; Harris of his escapades at St. Peter’s and the school he had attended previously, and Wesley about the days before his mother left, when his home life had been happy and carefree.
They were so engrossed that neither boy noticed the small gang approaching and both dived for their clothes when a voice called, “Price. I want a word with you.”
It was Lindsey MacDonald and, hard on his heels, Meers, Levinson and three other boys. Harris and Wesley were quickly surrounded, their clothes snatched from their hands and thrown in to the pool where they floated momentarily like drab ducklings before deflating and sinking sadly under the water.
Meers caught Wesley by the back of the neck and pushed him forward onto his knees in front of MacDonald. Harris tried to defend him, only to find his arms grabbed and twisted behind his back until he had no option but to bend to relieve the pressure on the straining joints.
Above the singing in his ears, he heard MacDonald say, “You told William it was my brother who inflicted these marks on you. Why?”
“Because he did,” came Wesley’s quiet reply and Harris flinched when he heard the crack of a hand on skin.
“Liar! You should be sent-down for uttering such untruths! My brother was not present when this came about and Levinson here will swear to it, won’t you boy.”
“I’ll say whatever you tell me to,” Jonathon mumbled and Harris’ stomach clenched in hatred. Had no one except he and Osborne the guts to stand up to these bullies?
“Leave him be, MacDonald!” he yelled and then yelped as his arms were pushed up further.
“Ah, young Harris.”
MacDonald’s boots appeared on the ground and suddenly Harris was able to stand. He did so, shaking his arms out gingerly as the blood rushed back into his fingers and his joints protested their treatment. A quick glance in Wesley’s direction showed his friend still on his knees with fresh blood on his lips. That swine MacDonald must have reopened the cuts in Wesley’s mouth.
“I have a message for you as well. Or, more accurately, for your friend, Osborne.”
Harris turned and looked MacDonald in the eye, telling himself it was only Angelus that kept the little pip-squeak safe, and sooner rather than later the older boy would be gone from the school. What fun then would be had at this bully’s expense.
“The message?” he asked coldly.
“Tell him Ripper sends his regards to Osborne’s mother, and says that if he doesn’t keep to the arrangement, he will be sure to see certain information is made public.”
**
Ripper was reading when Lindsey got back and, rather than disturb him, the younger boy made to slip away.
The question caught him halfway out of the door. “Did you deliver my message?”
“I did,” Lindsey replied, reluctantly shutting the door with himself of the inside. So much for his quick game of fives before sunset and prep for the next day’s lessons.
“Excellent.” Ripper closed his book with a resounding snap and continued, “And did that unpleasant young tyrant confirm my suspicions?”
“According to Meers, Brolly found him directly and told him of William with no encouragement.”
“As I thought,” Ripper nodded. “No matter, he had his punishment before breakfast and,” he laughed, “I am thinking, this afternoon as well.”
Lindsey’s gaze shot towards the bedroom and Ripper, seeing the direction it took, said, “Nothing so crass, my boy. He was simply asked to help your brother prepare William.”
Schooling his features into carefully practised neutrality, Lindsey nodded. However some clue of his true feelings must have escaped because suddenly Ripper was looking speculatively at him. “In fact, I would say Brolly has suffered enough. Go tell him his presence is required and that you are to aid Angelus in whatever needs to be done.”
Ethan didn’t need telling twice and was out of the door and running up the narrow private stair to Ripper’s rooms before Lindsey had stopped speaking. That left Lindsey with his brother and the two younger boys; Wells who was hauling a large kettle of water towards the yard and William, lying supine on the table, his legs held high and spread in medical stirrups.
“Is it completed?” Lindsey asked hopefully
“Nearly. The final quart and-” Angelus began, glancing up from his task and laughing at his sibling’s relieved expression. “Don’t fret, little brother, the worst is over.”
Lindsey shrugged and feigned not caring. “I don’t understand why he insists upon it. You never have with me.”
“Ripper considers himself the sophisticate and follows the teachings of his mentor,” Angelus explained and held out a soft rubberised bag. “Hold this,” he said, before continuing, “And Herr Eyghon, had something of a mania for cleanliness. I have heard Ripper claim that he would refuse to enter someone unless the correct rituals had been performed.”
“Still,” Lindsey said, doing as he was bid, “It seems a little excessive.”
Angelus busied himself for a moment and then stood up, taking the bag back from Lindsey’s hands, raising it slightly and giving it a gentle squeeze. On the table, William groaned and rolled his head, his eyelids fluttering open.
“Damn,” Angelus said, “the laudanum is wearing off and I dare not give him more. It will react something rotten with the hashish later.”
“So give him some of that,” Lindsey suggested, knowing firsthand how uncomfortable this procedure could be.
Angelus shook his head. “Only the single cake remains. Young William will have to manage without. Secure his arms, Lindsey, and use the gag; Ripper won’t be happy if his tea is served with a noisy accompaniment.”
Picking up the leather and wooden gag from the tray of utensils on route, Lindsey went to the head of the table and slipped the bar into the boy’s mouth, ensuring it was wedged tightly between his teeth before buckling it behind his head. Then he took William’s wrists in one hand and looped a single strap around both. If the boy really started to fight, Lindsey would have to do more, but for most this sufficed and left Lindsey free to help Angelus if needed.
“Got him?” Angelus asked and, when Lindsey nodded an affirmative, he lifted the bag higher and gave it another squeeze.
When William groaned again and began to squirm, Lindsey leaned over and massaged his belly, feeling the familiar bloating of intestines distended with cleansing fluid.
“Slower,” he said to his brother and Angelus lowered the bag a few inches, reducing the speed at which the water flowed into the boy’s body.
“Another half pint and we’re there,” Angelus said, checking the level, then muttered more to himself than anyone else, “Stop being such a stubborn ass, William. Ripper is not the only one who wishes to take tea.”
Whether it was the mention of his name or some other factor entirely, William chose that moment to surface from his stupor and immediately began to thrash, doing his best to force screams past the restriction in his mouth. Lindsey threw himself over the boy’s chest, using one hand to secure the wrist straps and his body weight to control William’s wilder movements.
For a second it looked as though William may break free. He bucked, forcing a yelp from his captor, and twisted his shoulders rolling his body first one way and then the other. Lindsey gripped the edge of the table and hung on, wishing he were bigger and heavier so as to better pin the boy down. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, William went limp and his struggles ceased completely. Lindsey heaved a sigh of relief and pressed his forehead to the table as he caught his breath, but he didn’t dare move away.
Angelus watched him, a wry smile on his face, until his brother looked up and answered in kind. “Next time do up the straps properly,” he said before lifting the bag those few inches higher.
The rest of the water was delivered without mishap, though Lindsey could feel William shaking beneath him and hear his sharp nasal pants as his abdomen was expanded to unnatural proportions. Then came the interesting part.
“Is he still awake,” Angelus asked.
Lindsey twisted so he could see William’s face with its eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling. “Yes.”
“William? Listen to me boy. I’m about to take this out and you must close yourself tight. Understand?”
A flicker of defiance passed over William’s face and Lindsey hissed, “If you do not, he will start again and this time make it two quarts.”
That brought a nod of comprehension and a gulping swallow. Lindsey grinned and turned back to his brother. “Haul away, Angelus, he knows the score.”
Watching William’s face was an amusement in itself, Lindsey discovered. From the flare of his nostrils to his squeezed shut eyes as he fought his body’s desire to rid itself of the unwanted water, William’s face was an encyclopaedia of responsiveness and as he watched Lindsey found himself becoming increasingly annoyed with Ripper for keeping this treat to himself. Eventually of course they would all get to play but not until the gilt was off the lily and even then it would be under Ripper’s supervision.
A deep moan from the chest below him suggested William was in trouble and Lindsey called out, “Make it quick!”
Angelus got there in time, much to both brothers’ relief, and replaced tenuous human muscle with the security of a well-oiled plug. William sagged, his clenched fists and bulging cheeks relaxing and, finally trusting that the last of William’s temper was spent, Lindsey leant back from the table, staying close enough to leap back on board should the necessity arise. Now all that was left was the waiting; the more difficult part in Lindsey’s opinion..
He hated this room, it was small and bleak and held too many memories for him ever to be comfortable here. Ripper’s father had paid for its construction when his son convinced him that the bathing pools were insufficient to his needs. It lay below the main rooms, linked by a single staircase, and opened onto a small private yard with piped water and drains. The tiled floor, though easy to clean, radiated a bone-chilling cold during both summer and winter, and only the fierce stove in the corner made the room bearable. Lindsey stood staring first at the white washed wall and then at his boots before saying, “Twenty minutes?”
“Or so,” Angelus replied more concerned with lighting his cheroot than conversing with his brother.
That short avenue of distraction exhausted, Lindsey turned his attention elsewhere. The only other things of interest were the various pieces of equipment and William, and Lindsey was familiar enough with Ripper’s toys that he felt no need to see more. Thus he turned his attentions to the boy, and more specifically his newly shaved genitals. It itched, Lindsey remembered, the first time the hair was stripped away and he peered around William’s knee to see how well Angelus had done the task. Perfect. Not a nick nor a stray hair marred the pale exposed skin; his brother was something of an artist when it came to work like this.
William’s cock, large and angry looking as though he had been hard for hours, pressed tight against his distended belly and Lindsey considered it for a while, remembering how his own shaft had reacted to the influx of water, before wondering aloud, “I wonder why that happens?”
Angelus glanced up at the cock-stand in question and shrugged, drawing deep on his tobacco and letting the smoke waft slowly from his mouth.
Now Lindsey was truly curious and he leaned down until he was almost at eye level, reaching out and running a finger from base to tip. William mewled and bucked his hips slightly, his cock twitching as a single drop of liquid bubbled from the slit. Lindsey caught it on his finger and stood up, staring into William’s eyes as he sucked it into his mouth.
“Tasty,” he chuckled as a remarkable blush swept over the boy’s face and he turned his head away.
“Stop teasing, little brother,” Angelus said, stamping out his cheroot and strolling over. He gave William an appraisingly look, his gaze lingering on the object of Lindsey’s attention and a smile, which would have seen Lindsey in full rout had it been turned on him, curled the corner of his lip.
Silence reigned for a full half minute before Lindsey broke and said, “He does look in terrible straits, poor boy. Do you think we should lend assistance?”
A muffled squeak from the table proved the deciding factor and the brothers moved into place like clockwork; Lindsey to William’s head, and Angelus to the boy’s upraised legs. The first touch of Angelus’ hand saw William straining to move his hips, his feet swaying in the stirrups as he fought to brace himself. Lindsey placed a palm on William’s chest, his fingers stroking and gentling, searching out nipples that already strained like moles’ noses pushing up from the dirt. His tongue found them soon after, followed by his teeth, and he swapped between them, using his fingers and his mouth to tweak and nibble.
After so long and under such expert hands, it took mere moments for William to start jerking, his jaw working spasmodically around the gag and his eyes rolling back in his head. But Angelus was ready for him and in a deft move clamped restraining fingers around the base of William’s shaft, grinning smugly at Lindsey who leapt away just in time as William whined and tried to curl around the sudden constriction.
“That was dastardly trick, Angelus,” Lindsey complained, probing at the bruise on his face that had come close to being whacked yet again. “Give a chap a little warning.”
Angelus simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his brother’s dramatics, and resumed working William’s cock, keeping the strokes slow and steady. Lindsey, having decided discretion was the better part of valour, opted to stand at the head of the table and continued his previous occupation of watching William’s face. The boy really was beautiful when he suffered, his summer eyes brimming with tears, his cheeks flushed and ballooning, lips swollen around the wooden bar that left tiny bruises at the corners of his mouth.
Lindsey found himself swaying forwards, pressing his groin into William’s hands where they hung over the table edge. They felt exquisite, firm against his own increasing rigidity, fingers flexing to a rhythm he could follow. Fumbling, Lindsey loosened his braces and released his erection, groaning when it met warm sweat slicked skin. He leaned further, bracing his hands beneath William’s armpits and thrust quickly and surely, his head hanging down so he could still catch glimpses of that bewitching face.
Watching his brother from the other end of the table, Angelus grinned and ducked his head to hide the expression. Despite growing into this life as though born to it, Lindsey still retained the ability to charm Angelus with his naive ways, and this was a classic example. If he could see Lindsey’s face at this moment, Angelus knew he would find those pretty lips damp and parted, tongue curling out as he focused entirely on fulfilment.
The cock in his hand swelled again and this time Angelus continued his punishing strokes, eager for his own release. Behind his gag William wailed, his entire body convulsing as stretched muscles contracted sending waves of agonizing pleasure crashing through him. Angelus grabbed the plug and pressed it hard up into the boy’s channel eliciting more muted screams and a violent twist of hips that sent pulse of come splattering up into Lindsey’s face.
Lindsey blinked and looked up; the fluid dripping from his long eyelashes and trickling down his cheek. When it reached his lips, his tongue greedily gathered a few drops, the taste bringing the curve of a smile to his slightly open mouth. He was the embodiment of debauched innocence and Angelus moaned, grasping his own erection.
“Here. Now,” he ordered.
There was no hesitation and Lindsey was soon on his knees, caressing his brother’s cock through the stout material and then loosening is trousers. The first sweep of his tongue had Angelus gasping and buckling at the knees and he tugged Lindsey’s hair, trying to get him to slow down. Lindsey ignored him and, for once, Angelus allowed the disobedience to pass unpunished, it felt too good to stop now. As Lindsey’s throat closed around him, and the tip of his tongue probed and pushed against the base of his shaft, Angelus threw back his head panting as wildly as William had before. He could feel the boy’s gaze on them, bearing reluctant witness to this exhibition of his future role and, as he spilled into Lindsey’s willing mouth, Angelus opened his eyes and blew William a kiss.