Interrogation
Title: Interrogation
Author: nirejseki
For: the_me09
Rating: Strong R for sexual content
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: Lord Blackwood, while awaiting hanging, is obliged to put up with several stupid and one interesting interrogations on the part of the Order.
If he had to put up with one more set of the same questions, one more stupid excuse for an “interrogation”, one more goddamn idiot coming in to lecture meaningfully at him about his actions, Blackwood half thought it would better to just turn himself in. End the misery early, so to speak. Only the thought that this, too, was part of a greater plan that would see him enthroned and them subjugated permitted him to bear it.
He spent most of the lectures imagining the various Order members groveling at his feet. Or, if it was a particularly irritating lecture, such as the occasional Disgrace To the Not-Really-Family speech his father tried to give him when he was in the mood to forget that he had never acknowledged Blackwood as his anyway, he would imagine their death. Preferably a nice, grisly, painful death, with a nice front row seat for him.
Nevertheless, they insisted on coming. Most of them came as much to gawk as the infamous Blackwood, he who used forbidden magicks, as they did to lecture him in the name of the Order. He was rather sick and tired of the whole thing, really.
Today, it seemed, was no different - he had been brought from the prison to a room towards the back of the Order’s headquarters, bespelled in place with some complicated runic patterns and - just in case - tied firmly to a chair with a length of strong rope. Tied quite well, he noted as he tugged a little on the ropes: he wouldn’t have been able to escape even if he had wanted to. Luckily, escape (at least in this manner) was not part of his plan.
Blackwood waited, not entirely patiently, for the idiot of the day to come down. He knew his father would be making his periodic appearance in about an hour; he presumed he was not to wait here without some moron goggling at him until then.
As is such, he was not surprised when the door was pushed open a moment later.
He was surprised when Lord Coward, respected Order member, close ally of Lord Rothram and Ambassador Standish and someone who had been very specifically instructed not to come anywhere near him, was the one to walk in.
The younger man spoke for a moment with the guards at the door, and then closed the door behind him. Without turning away from the door, Coward spoke, saying in a ponderous tone, “Tell me, Lord Blackwood, do you understand the consequences of what you’ve done?”
Blackwood glared.
Coward turned around, and he was grinning wildly.
“What are you doing, you idiot?” Blackwood hissed as softly as he could manage. “I told you not to come anywhere near me! Your reputation must be spotless -”
Coward held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know,” he replied equally softly, still smiling. “But at this rate, if I don’t come to see you, I’ll be the only Order member not to have come to stare.”
Blackwood was - grudgingly - forced to admit the logic there, though he did not admit it; he merely scowled.
“Besides,” Coward continued, louder now. “You have been a thorough disgrace to the Order. You must know that.”
Blackwood rolled his eyes. “Yes, get on with it, get on with it,” he muttered quietly, shifting uncomfortably in the ropes that bound him to the chair. He hoped Coward would not take too long proving his Order credentials; he was uncomfortable having his accomplice here, where anyone might discover them, unreasonable as the worry was.
Coward’s smile grew, however, and Blackwood frowned, wondering what the younger man was up to.
“Don’t worry,” Coward promised. “I promise, this won’t take long.”
“It had better not.” Blackwood snapped. “Lord Rothram will be coming to speak with me shortly.” He was not entirely able to disguise the bitterness in his voice, which annoyed him.
Coward nodded, understanding perfectly without needing to be told. That was one of the reasons Blackwood valued him so highly - the man was intelligent, charismatic, subtle, devoted, and remarkably good in bed to boot. Though, Blackwood reminded himself with some chagrin, this was hardly the time to think of such things. He had previously been accustomed to satisfying himself on a regular basis; it was proving unexpectedly difficult to go without. He had not anticipated that.
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair once more, for a slightly different reason this time; he willed himself still once more. Permitting oneself weakness before allies was a sure way to lead to showing weakness before enemies.
“Tell me, Lord Blackwood,” Coward said loudly, pacing forward. “Why do you do why you do?”
Blackwood gave him a disbelieving look.
“No, really.” The younger man knelt before him, looking up at him sincerely. “Tell me why.”
“Coward…” Blackwood murmured warningly.
“It is important to understand.” Coward continued, placing his hands on Blackwood’s spread knees to balance himself. Blackwood shifted in his seat again again, glaring.
“I want to understand.” Coward continued, loud enough to be heard. “I want to understand why you do what you do. Why do you choose to engage in…”
He paused, then very purposefully drew one of his long, thin fingers along Blackwood’s inseam, tracing the fabric from the inside of the knee - where Blackwood was particularly sensitive - drawing a directly line along the inside of his thigh to the older man’s groin. Blackwood sucked in a sharp breath.
“…forbidden practices.” Coward finished. And smirked.
“What are you doing?” Blackwood hissed, trying to edge away. The ropes tightened around him - Coward had reached forward and tugged one of the edges, pulling it close. He couldn’t move around now. “Coward -”
“Why do you indulge yourself, Blackwood?” Coward said instead. “Why do you constantly indulge -” His fingers flitted lightly over the increasingly tight cloth, barely touching the older man, just a ghost of a touch. “Yourself? Do you care nothing for others?” The younger man leaned forward.
“…don’t you?” Coward whispered, his breath warming Blackwood, whose hips involuntarily bucked forward.
“Coward, you will stop that this instant.” Blackwood ordered, still keeping his voice quiet, though with a bit of a strain to his voice.
“You are selfish, Blackwood; that’s what I think. The Order exists to help all of England.” Coward’s smile widened, and he put his hand full on between Blackwood’s legs, only to pull it away when Blackwood tried to thrust forward into the warm palm. “I’m a patriot, Blackwood; I seek to help others.”
“Well, you’re not helping here,” Blackwood snarled. He was rapidly losing control of the situation, an almost entirely unwelcome feeling. “If we must do this, get on with it - in case you’ve forgotten, my father is going to be here in under a quarter hour.”
“Then I suppose I’d better hurry up, no?” Coward inquired softly, and leaned forward, pressing his lips right over Blackwood’s cock, with only the thin layer of Blackwood’s trousers between them. Blackwood very nearly moaned, then recalled abruptly where he was and bit his lip instead.
He was hard, immensely hard. Coward was kneeling before him, grinning like the fool hadn’t a care in the world, and he was entirely helpless - bound tightly to a chair, legs spread, and he couldn’t even make the slightest bit of noise, or the guards outside would come running in and that would be the ruin of everything. What in the world had possessed Coward to do such a foolish thing?
Coward’s tongue flicked out and just barely brushed him, and Blackwood’s hips tried to buck forward again, restrained only by the pressure of the ropes. “Coward!” he snarled.
A little too loudly, unfortunately, as there was a noise outside; one of the guards knocked at the door. “Everything all right in there, milord?” the man inquired through the door.
Coward looked up at Blackwood, who was now gnawing at his lower lip almost to the point of blood, and smirked against the other man’s groin. “All’s well,” he replied, voice only slightly muffled by the fabric, breath easily coming through the thin material, and god damn it all, if that irritating little bastard didn’t get him out of these trousers this very instant Blackwood was going to kill him when he returned after his hanging.
“Coward, finish it,” he said instead, whispering fiercely. “Damnit, we might get caught.”
“Mmm, and that’s half the fun…” The younger man ran his fingers up Blackwood’s thighs once more, drifting lightly around where his mouth was busily breathing, talking, putting slight pressure and in short doing absolutely everything to drive Blackwood mad with unfulfilled desire.
Blackwood wanted him to stop, wanted him to continue, wanted to rip out of the ropes and throw the insubordinate little brat over the nearest table and fuck him until he couldn’t walk, until he remembered who held the power here. He wanted to be the one taunting the younger man with the possibility of discovered, wanted Coward writhing in almost painful ecstasy, wanted to pull the ropes that now bound him around the younger man’s arms and body and neck, wanted to pull them tight until all Coward could see were stars and all he could feel was Blackwood.
He tasted metal in his mouth as his sharp teeth tore his lower lip open. He was thrusting helplessly into Coward’s hands, into Coward’s mouth, and the little bastard hadn’t even opened his trousers yet. He was going to lose control.
“Coward -” he gasped, still forcing himself to speak softly. “Coward - I can’t…they’re coming soon…”
Wouldn’t that be a shock to the ever proper Lord Rothram? Some evil part of his brain whispered. Wouldn’t that give father a nice shock, that the bane of his existence is deviant and debauched in every way he’s ever feared…?
“They can’t find out…” Blackwood ground out, but his iron will extended only to his voice now; his body was helpless, thrusting forward in a desperate attempt to seek the satisfaction Coward was withholding. He was almost ashamed at how wanton he was acting. Only Coward, he thought to himself, even his thoughts going slightly fuzzy as the need coursed through his body, the familiar and missed pressure building up at the back of his spine agonizingly slowly as Coward continued to refuse to give him anything but the barest stimulation, only Coward can do this to me. Only he can get in - get in the chinks of my armor, get under my skin, get to turn the tables on me -
“You’ve been very bad, Blackwood,” Coward whispered. “Is that what everyone’s been coming in to tell you? How bad you’ve been…how you’re going to be punished…”
Blackwood twisted in the ropes, desperately wanting his hands free to grab the man and force him forward. Make him shut up. He could feel the first drops of come start to wet his trousers, could feel Coward’s tongue lapping at it through the cloth, spreading it around; could feel Coward’s fingers walking up and down the length of his cock, putting just enough pressure that he could feel it but not enough, not enough…
“I need more,” He murmured, bucking his hips forward. Why was Coward not getting the hint already?
“Say please,” Coward purred.
Blackwood’s eyes glinted and he lunged forward. “I’ll do no such thing,” he hissed, dark green eyes fixed on Coward’s blue.
They stared at each other, locked in a battle of wills. After a few moments, Coward smiled, nodded, and reached forward, undoing Blackwood’s belt and freeing the older man’s cock. Blackwood relaxed a little, still harder than he’d been for months now.
Now, at last, it would go like it was supposed to - Coward would suck him off, he’d come, and they’d be done long before Lord Rothram showed up which, by Blackwood’s calculations, was under five minutes from now.
Except that wasn’t what happened. Coward had let him out, exposing him - in a room, in the back halls of the Order’s Headquarters, with Blackwood’s father on the way to see him - but he didn’t do anything. He just sat there, rocking back on his heels, with that godforsaken smirk on his face.
It was a very attractive smirk, actually, but Blackwood was not going to tell him that. Certainly not now.
Blackwood thrust forward a little, trying to remind Coward that he had a job to be doing here. The room had a slight draft - it was warm, so it didn’t help his state at all, and if anything the flow of air over his now exposed cock was incredibly reminiscent of Coward’s warm breath…his cock twitched.
Coward’s smirk widened. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re doing this as much to yourself as I am.”
“Shut up and get on with it.”
“Hmm…no, I don’t think so, actually.”
Blackwood was hard pressed not to break out in some rather nasty language he’d picked up on the dockyards. “What do you mean no?!” It was getting steadily harder to moderate his tone.
Coward grinned up at him. “Just because the spotlights all on you right now doesn’t mean we’re not still partners, Henry. You get to order everyone else around, not me.”
Blackwood gaped at him.
“Really, you’d have thought you’d have realized that by now. In short, Henry Blackwood -”
Coward leaned forward and ran his tongue from the base of Blackwood’s cock to the tip, then pulled away before Blackwood was event entirely cognizant of the sensation.
“- say please.”
The wetness cooled as it dried, his brain was coming up with steadily more elaborate plots for how to show Coward his place, Coward didn’t seem to see anything wrong with kneeling in front of a convicted murderer with his boss entering in only three minutes, and Blackwood was going mad.
Just another day in the life of an evil genius trying to take over the world, he supposed.
“…please.”
“What was that?”
“Goddamnit, get on with it, please!”
Coward smirked and leaned forward again, and this time Blackwood felt the blessedly familiar feeling of being engulfed in a warm, willing mouth. Coward was his again, hands cupping his balls, wrapped around his length, mouth and tongue lapping around the head…
Blackwood didn’t last even another minute, but he believed under the circumstances it was forgivable. He came hard, hitting his peak and bucking his hips up into Coward’s mouth again and again. He longed to grab onto his lover’s hair and pull him closer, to force the younger man to swallow every drop, but couldn’t - the ropes kept him at the chair. He really hated those ropes.
Coward obliged him for a while, swallowing obediently, then pulled away - a little too early, actually, and the last few drops splattered on his lips and chin. The younger man arched an eyebrow and tsked, doing up Blackwood’s pants again.
“You really need to not do that,” he lectured loudly, pulling out his handkerchief and lifting it to his mouth just as the door opened.
Blackwood twitched almost violently; he hadn’t heard his father approaching in the hallway, and Coward still had a few drops of come visible on his face that the young minister was dabbing away fastidiously.
Lord Rothram looked curiously at the younger man. Coward wiped the residue off his face and looked innocently at the head of the Order. “I was demanding he explain to me why he did what he did, and he spat at me. I think he’s mad or something.”
The old man nodded sadly. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” the old Lord said solemnly. “I’m very sorry, Lord Coward; I know you liked him before.”
Coward nodded, equally solemn. Blackwood stared at him, somewhat wild-eyed, wondering how in the world the younger man was keeping his composure. Coward clearly had hidden depths that needed to be plumbed. Preferably In great depth, and at the time of Blackwood’s choosing.
Blackwood quickly shook himself mentally. Now was not the time to pursue that line of thought.
“- after the girls, obviously, it was a huge disappointment.” Coward was in the midst of sighing. “To think someone could misuse the teachings of the Order in such a way…!”
Lord Rothram was nodding , clearly having bought the whole thing hook, line and sinker. Blackwood wasn’t surprised; his father was so repressed that he’d probably never seen his own come, had probably never gotten farther than a little fumbling under the sheets or at a conveniently dark Order altar stone.
Really, sometimes Blackwood honestly wondered how they were related.
“I’m glad for your conscientiousness, Lord Coward,” the head of the Order replied, absently rubbing the ox ring. Blackwood rather thought he’d like to develop that habit, preferably someday soon.
He noted the slight flush in his father’s cheeks; the way he was surveying the distressed-looking Coward - and Coward looked so wonderfully vulnerable when he looked distressed, even when it was only a mask - and decided that yes, he would have develop the habit. Very soon.
Actually, if his father didn’t stop trying to undress his lover with the old bastard’s eyes, he was going to try to kill him here and now and damn the consequences.
“…I do think I need to talk to him now, however.”
“Of course, of course,” Coward was quick to assure the older man. “I’m sure that if anyone can make him see the error of his ways, it is you, my Lord.” He looked adoringly up at the older man.
Blackwood, safe behind his father’s back, glared furiously.
Lord Rothram coughed, nodded, and waved a dismissal. Coward bowed deeply and - as the older man turned now to look at Blackwood - winked at his lover as he straightened and left, looking perfectly formal as if he’d been doing nothing more strenuous than a simple meeting with another member of Parliament.
Blackwood watched him leave, then looked up at his father, who immediately launched into yet another version of the same old lecture. As he began to tune the old man out, Blackwood began to lay out a new set of plans - he had lots to do on his resurrection, but that first night his only task was to hide away from sight and let the rumors do the work for him. He’d always been planning to stay at Lord Coward’s house.
He was just adding a few extra elements to that evening’s planned events that perhaps Coward wasn’t quite expecting.
Author: nirejseki
For: the_me09
Rating: Strong R for sexual content
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: Lord Blackwood, while awaiting hanging, is obliged to put up with several stupid and one interesting interrogations on the part of the Order.
If he had to put up with one more set of the same questions, one more stupid excuse for an “interrogation”, one more goddamn idiot coming in to lecture meaningfully at him about his actions, Blackwood half thought it would better to just turn himself in. End the misery early, so to speak. Only the thought that this, too, was part of a greater plan that would see him enthroned and them subjugated permitted him to bear it.
He spent most of the lectures imagining the various Order members groveling at his feet. Or, if it was a particularly irritating lecture, such as the occasional Disgrace To the Not-Really-Family speech his father tried to give him when he was in the mood to forget that he had never acknowledged Blackwood as his anyway, he would imagine their death. Preferably a nice, grisly, painful death, with a nice front row seat for him.
Nevertheless, they insisted on coming. Most of them came as much to gawk as the infamous Blackwood, he who used forbidden magicks, as they did to lecture him in the name of the Order. He was rather sick and tired of the whole thing, really.
Today, it seemed, was no different - he had been brought from the prison to a room towards the back of the Order’s headquarters, bespelled in place with some complicated runic patterns and - just in case - tied firmly to a chair with a length of strong rope. Tied quite well, he noted as he tugged a little on the ropes: he wouldn’t have been able to escape even if he had wanted to. Luckily, escape (at least in this manner) was not part of his plan.
Blackwood waited, not entirely patiently, for the idiot of the day to come down. He knew his father would be making his periodic appearance in about an hour; he presumed he was not to wait here without some moron goggling at him until then.
As is such, he was not surprised when the door was pushed open a moment later.
He was surprised when Lord Coward, respected Order member, close ally of Lord Rothram and Ambassador Standish and someone who had been very specifically instructed not to come anywhere near him, was the one to walk in.
The younger man spoke for a moment with the guards at the door, and then closed the door behind him. Without turning away from the door, Coward spoke, saying in a ponderous tone, “Tell me, Lord Blackwood, do you understand the consequences of what you’ve done?”
Blackwood glared.
Coward turned around, and he was grinning wildly.
“What are you doing, you idiot?” Blackwood hissed as softly as he could manage. “I told you not to come anywhere near me! Your reputation must be spotless -”
Coward held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know,” he replied equally softly, still smiling. “But at this rate, if I don’t come to see you, I’ll be the only Order member not to have come to stare.”
Blackwood was - grudgingly - forced to admit the logic there, though he did not admit it; he merely scowled.
“Besides,” Coward continued, louder now. “You have been a thorough disgrace to the Order. You must know that.”
Blackwood rolled his eyes. “Yes, get on with it, get on with it,” he muttered quietly, shifting uncomfortably in the ropes that bound him to the chair. He hoped Coward would not take too long proving his Order credentials; he was uncomfortable having his accomplice here, where anyone might discover them, unreasonable as the worry was.
Coward’s smile grew, however, and Blackwood frowned, wondering what the younger man was up to.
“Don’t worry,” Coward promised. “I promise, this won’t take long.”
“It had better not.” Blackwood snapped. “Lord Rothram will be coming to speak with me shortly.” He was not entirely able to disguise the bitterness in his voice, which annoyed him.
Coward nodded, understanding perfectly without needing to be told. That was one of the reasons Blackwood valued him so highly - the man was intelligent, charismatic, subtle, devoted, and remarkably good in bed to boot. Though, Blackwood reminded himself with some chagrin, this was hardly the time to think of such things. He had previously been accustomed to satisfying himself on a regular basis; it was proving unexpectedly difficult to go without. He had not anticipated that.
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair once more, for a slightly different reason this time; he willed himself still once more. Permitting oneself weakness before allies was a sure way to lead to showing weakness before enemies.
“Tell me, Lord Blackwood,” Coward said loudly, pacing forward. “Why do you do why you do?”
Blackwood gave him a disbelieving look.
“No, really.” The younger man knelt before him, looking up at him sincerely. “Tell me why.”
“Coward…” Blackwood murmured warningly.
“It is important to understand.” Coward continued, placing his hands on Blackwood’s spread knees to balance himself. Blackwood shifted in his seat again again, glaring.
“I want to understand.” Coward continued, loud enough to be heard. “I want to understand why you do what you do. Why do you choose to engage in…”
He paused, then very purposefully drew one of his long, thin fingers along Blackwood’s inseam, tracing the fabric from the inside of the knee - where Blackwood was particularly sensitive - drawing a directly line along the inside of his thigh to the older man’s groin. Blackwood sucked in a sharp breath.
“…forbidden practices.” Coward finished. And smirked.
“What are you doing?” Blackwood hissed, trying to edge away. The ropes tightened around him - Coward had reached forward and tugged one of the edges, pulling it close. He couldn’t move around now. “Coward -”
“Why do you indulge yourself, Blackwood?” Coward said instead. “Why do you constantly indulge -” His fingers flitted lightly over the increasingly tight cloth, barely touching the older man, just a ghost of a touch. “Yourself? Do you care nothing for others?” The younger man leaned forward.
“…don’t you?” Coward whispered, his breath warming Blackwood, whose hips involuntarily bucked forward.
“Coward, you will stop that this instant.” Blackwood ordered, still keeping his voice quiet, though with a bit of a strain to his voice.
“You are selfish, Blackwood; that’s what I think. The Order exists to help all of England.” Coward’s smile widened, and he put his hand full on between Blackwood’s legs, only to pull it away when Blackwood tried to thrust forward into the warm palm. “I’m a patriot, Blackwood; I seek to help others.”
“Well, you’re not helping here,” Blackwood snarled. He was rapidly losing control of the situation, an almost entirely unwelcome feeling. “If we must do this, get on with it - in case you’ve forgotten, my father is going to be here in under a quarter hour.”
“Then I suppose I’d better hurry up, no?” Coward inquired softly, and leaned forward, pressing his lips right over Blackwood’s cock, with only the thin layer of Blackwood’s trousers between them. Blackwood very nearly moaned, then recalled abruptly where he was and bit his lip instead.
He was hard, immensely hard. Coward was kneeling before him, grinning like the fool hadn’t a care in the world, and he was entirely helpless - bound tightly to a chair, legs spread, and he couldn’t even make the slightest bit of noise, or the guards outside would come running in and that would be the ruin of everything. What in the world had possessed Coward to do such a foolish thing?
Coward’s tongue flicked out and just barely brushed him, and Blackwood’s hips tried to buck forward again, restrained only by the pressure of the ropes. “Coward!” he snarled.
A little too loudly, unfortunately, as there was a noise outside; one of the guards knocked at the door. “Everything all right in there, milord?” the man inquired through the door.
Coward looked up at Blackwood, who was now gnawing at his lower lip almost to the point of blood, and smirked against the other man’s groin. “All’s well,” he replied, voice only slightly muffled by the fabric, breath easily coming through the thin material, and god damn it all, if that irritating little bastard didn’t get him out of these trousers this very instant Blackwood was going to kill him when he returned after his hanging.
“Coward, finish it,” he said instead, whispering fiercely. “Damnit, we might get caught.”
“Mmm, and that’s half the fun…” The younger man ran his fingers up Blackwood’s thighs once more, drifting lightly around where his mouth was busily breathing, talking, putting slight pressure and in short doing absolutely everything to drive Blackwood mad with unfulfilled desire.
Blackwood wanted him to stop, wanted him to continue, wanted to rip out of the ropes and throw the insubordinate little brat over the nearest table and fuck him until he couldn’t walk, until he remembered who held the power here. He wanted to be the one taunting the younger man with the possibility of discovered, wanted Coward writhing in almost painful ecstasy, wanted to pull the ropes that now bound him around the younger man’s arms and body and neck, wanted to pull them tight until all Coward could see were stars and all he could feel was Blackwood.
He tasted metal in his mouth as his sharp teeth tore his lower lip open. He was thrusting helplessly into Coward’s hands, into Coward’s mouth, and the little bastard hadn’t even opened his trousers yet. He was going to lose control.
“Coward -” he gasped, still forcing himself to speak softly. “Coward - I can’t…they’re coming soon…”
Wouldn’t that be a shock to the ever proper Lord Rothram? Some evil part of his brain whispered. Wouldn’t that give father a nice shock, that the bane of his existence is deviant and debauched in every way he’s ever feared…?
“They can’t find out…” Blackwood ground out, but his iron will extended only to his voice now; his body was helpless, thrusting forward in a desperate attempt to seek the satisfaction Coward was withholding. He was almost ashamed at how wanton he was acting. Only Coward, he thought to himself, even his thoughts going slightly fuzzy as the need coursed through his body, the familiar and missed pressure building up at the back of his spine agonizingly slowly as Coward continued to refuse to give him anything but the barest stimulation, only Coward can do this to me. Only he can get in - get in the chinks of my armor, get under my skin, get to turn the tables on me -
“You’ve been very bad, Blackwood,” Coward whispered. “Is that what everyone’s been coming in to tell you? How bad you’ve been…how you’re going to be punished…”
Blackwood twisted in the ropes, desperately wanting his hands free to grab the man and force him forward. Make him shut up. He could feel the first drops of come start to wet his trousers, could feel Coward’s tongue lapping at it through the cloth, spreading it around; could feel Coward’s fingers walking up and down the length of his cock, putting just enough pressure that he could feel it but not enough, not enough…
“I need more,” He murmured, bucking his hips forward. Why was Coward not getting the hint already?
“Say please,” Coward purred.
Blackwood’s eyes glinted and he lunged forward. “I’ll do no such thing,” he hissed, dark green eyes fixed on Coward’s blue.
They stared at each other, locked in a battle of wills. After a few moments, Coward smiled, nodded, and reached forward, undoing Blackwood’s belt and freeing the older man’s cock. Blackwood relaxed a little, still harder than he’d been for months now.
Now, at last, it would go like it was supposed to - Coward would suck him off, he’d come, and they’d be done long before Lord Rothram showed up which, by Blackwood’s calculations, was under five minutes from now.
Except that wasn’t what happened. Coward had let him out, exposing him - in a room, in the back halls of the Order’s Headquarters, with Blackwood’s father on the way to see him - but he didn’t do anything. He just sat there, rocking back on his heels, with that godforsaken smirk on his face.
It was a very attractive smirk, actually, but Blackwood was not going to tell him that. Certainly not now.
Blackwood thrust forward a little, trying to remind Coward that he had a job to be doing here. The room had a slight draft - it was warm, so it didn’t help his state at all, and if anything the flow of air over his now exposed cock was incredibly reminiscent of Coward’s warm breath…his cock twitched.
Coward’s smirk widened. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re doing this as much to yourself as I am.”
“Shut up and get on with it.”
“Hmm…no, I don’t think so, actually.”
Blackwood was hard pressed not to break out in some rather nasty language he’d picked up on the dockyards. “What do you mean no?!” It was getting steadily harder to moderate his tone.
Coward grinned up at him. “Just because the spotlights all on you right now doesn’t mean we’re not still partners, Henry. You get to order everyone else around, not me.”
Blackwood gaped at him.
“Really, you’d have thought you’d have realized that by now. In short, Henry Blackwood -”
Coward leaned forward and ran his tongue from the base of Blackwood’s cock to the tip, then pulled away before Blackwood was event entirely cognizant of the sensation.
“- say please.”
The wetness cooled as it dried, his brain was coming up with steadily more elaborate plots for how to show Coward his place, Coward didn’t seem to see anything wrong with kneeling in front of a convicted murderer with his boss entering in only three minutes, and Blackwood was going mad.
Just another day in the life of an evil genius trying to take over the world, he supposed.
“…please.”
“What was that?”
“Goddamnit, get on with it, please!”
Coward smirked and leaned forward again, and this time Blackwood felt the blessedly familiar feeling of being engulfed in a warm, willing mouth. Coward was his again, hands cupping his balls, wrapped around his length, mouth and tongue lapping around the head…
Blackwood didn’t last even another minute, but he believed under the circumstances it was forgivable. He came hard, hitting his peak and bucking his hips up into Coward’s mouth again and again. He longed to grab onto his lover’s hair and pull him closer, to force the younger man to swallow every drop, but couldn’t - the ropes kept him at the chair. He really hated those ropes.
Coward obliged him for a while, swallowing obediently, then pulled away - a little too early, actually, and the last few drops splattered on his lips and chin. The younger man arched an eyebrow and tsked, doing up Blackwood’s pants again.
“You really need to not do that,” he lectured loudly, pulling out his handkerchief and lifting it to his mouth just as the door opened.
Blackwood twitched almost violently; he hadn’t heard his father approaching in the hallway, and Coward still had a few drops of come visible on his face that the young minister was dabbing away fastidiously.
Lord Rothram looked curiously at the younger man. Coward wiped the residue off his face and looked innocently at the head of the Order. “I was demanding he explain to me why he did what he did, and he spat at me. I think he’s mad or something.”
The old man nodded sadly. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” the old Lord said solemnly. “I’m very sorry, Lord Coward; I know you liked him before.”
Coward nodded, equally solemn. Blackwood stared at him, somewhat wild-eyed, wondering how in the world the younger man was keeping his composure. Coward clearly had hidden depths that needed to be plumbed. Preferably In great depth, and at the time of Blackwood’s choosing.
Blackwood quickly shook himself mentally. Now was not the time to pursue that line of thought.
“- after the girls, obviously, it was a huge disappointment.” Coward was in the midst of sighing. “To think someone could misuse the teachings of the Order in such a way…!”
Lord Rothram was nodding , clearly having bought the whole thing hook, line and sinker. Blackwood wasn’t surprised; his father was so repressed that he’d probably never seen his own come, had probably never gotten farther than a little fumbling under the sheets or at a conveniently dark Order altar stone.
Really, sometimes Blackwood honestly wondered how they were related.
“I’m glad for your conscientiousness, Lord Coward,” the head of the Order replied, absently rubbing the ox ring. Blackwood rather thought he’d like to develop that habit, preferably someday soon.
He noted the slight flush in his father’s cheeks; the way he was surveying the distressed-looking Coward - and Coward looked so wonderfully vulnerable when he looked distressed, even when it was only a mask - and decided that yes, he would have develop the habit. Very soon.
Actually, if his father didn’t stop trying to undress his lover with the old bastard’s eyes, he was going to try to kill him here and now and damn the consequences.
“…I do think I need to talk to him now, however.”
“Of course, of course,” Coward was quick to assure the older man. “I’m sure that if anyone can make him see the error of his ways, it is you, my Lord.” He looked adoringly up at the older man.
Blackwood, safe behind his father’s back, glared furiously.
Lord Rothram coughed, nodded, and waved a dismissal. Coward bowed deeply and - as the older man turned now to look at Blackwood - winked at his lover as he straightened and left, looking perfectly formal as if he’d been doing nothing more strenuous than a simple meeting with another member of Parliament.
Blackwood watched him leave, then looked up at his father, who immediately launched into yet another version of the same old lecture. As he began to tune the old man out, Blackwood began to lay out a new set of plans - he had lots to do on his resurrection, but that first night his only task was to hide away from sight and let the rumors do the work for him. He’d always been planning to stay at Lord Coward’s house.
He was just adding a few extra elements to that evening’s planned events that perhaps Coward wasn’t quite expecting.