DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of 100% FICTION and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between 2 consenting teenage boys. This story is based 100% off of my IMAGINATION and does NOT reflect the views of the celebrities mentioned. If this type of content offends you or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please don't.
I decided that formatting is too much of a pain in the ass. So I'll just skip that part and post the story. I hope none of you mind.
Only a few chapters left! :)
What Happened to the Green Fairies? By Danimpa
Chapter 25
Earldom of Salisbury, England April, 1398
I woke up with Brendon's arms around me, his dream still in my head like a whisper of another life.
He'd been right about it; I'd had that same dream too, often leaving me wondering what I was doing where I was when I was so obviously meant to live that other, albeit unreachable, life.
Brendon stirred slightly, pulling me closer with the movement before he opened his eyes, let out a yawn and released one of his arms from me to rub at his eyes. Then he smiled, looking down at me. "Morning, love," he replied with a grin.
I smiled back. "Good morning, Bren," I returned, leaning over to press a kiss against his lips.
He quickly took charge of the kiss, shoving his tongue inside while he gently pushed me down to lean over me.
Brendon in the mornings... nothing further has to be said.
His tongue rubbed against my own and he quickly manoeuvred his body so that it was covering mine.
I quickly pushed up against him, growing hard by the second.
Yes, no need to mention me in the mornings.
He half chuckled, half moaned into my mouth before moving his ministrations down onto my neck, nibbling softly while he grinded down against me.
I let out a strangled moan, arching up before habitually spreading my legs.
He raised his head, grinned at me again and plunged in, hitting the right spot on his first try and hard enough to make me give out a soft scream.
I wrapped my calves around his waist, my arms still around his neck as I started working with him, helping him build up the pace while he, as opposed to the night before, stayed completely silent.
But he needn't talk anymore to gain the needed effect.
With his every thrust, the world I knew disappeared more and more until nothing existed but the two of us, flowing through the vacuum of nothingness that existed where time and space gave in.
I held onto him, my nails digging into his shoulders while I saw blinding lights and suddenly I heard a magnificent voice singing words that I vaguely recognised.
I opened my eyes to send Brendon a short glance.
His mouth was open, but the only things slipping out were quiet moans.
I could've sworn it was him, though.
The confusion was soon forgotten again, though, when he rammed against that place in me particularly hard and a twitch went through my member, tickling up and down my spine as I was pushed closer to the edge.
He plunged into me again, this time grabbing hold of my pulsing member with one hand, stroking in times with his thrusts.
The sensations quickly became too much and I let out a drawn-out moan as I climaxed, cramping around him as he gave a few more thrusts before releasing and slumping down on my chest.
I smiled, raising a hand from his shoulder to contentedly stroke his hair while we both regained proper breathing.
I don't know how long we stayed like that, but a loud banging against the door leading into the antechamber abruptly broke the moment.
"George!" someone yelled. "Can you leave whatever boy toy you keep in there alone for long enough to come out and greet an old friend?!"
'Old friend'.
I'd barely been able to recognise Frederick's voice and yet he categorised himself as 'old friend'.
The moment of unity, of bringing the dream close was over and when I looked at Brendon's face I saw vague traces of hurt in his eyes.
I knew that it killed him every time people expressed their beliefs that I only kept him around for the sake of my own amusement.
"I love you;" I whispered before leaning up to kiss him briefly.
He nodded, pulled out and rolled off, allowing me to get off the bed.
"Give me a moment!" I called in the direction of the antechamber before starting to look for clothes.
I finally deemed a pair of regular, black breeches with a white shirt and a crimson doublet with my family crest on the chest.
Brendon appeared while I was pulling on my boots, smiling slightly. "I find it funny," he stated.
"What do you find funny?"
He chuckles a bit. "The fact that there's a rose on your father's crest. It should've been a thistle or something."
I shook my head slightly, letting a soft laugh out as well. "That might be true," I told him, still smiling. "But it's also my crest and I don't care much for thistles."
He nodded. "On you they're fitting."
Finally done with the boots I stretched back up and pecked his lips again before I headed out the door.
Frederick was leaning casually against the wall in the hallway, waiting for me to come out.
When I did he quickly plastered a grin onto his freckled face and stretched out his hand. I shook it, smiling back simply for the fact that Brendon was close by. I'd never liked Frederick Montague of Salisbury much, so I didn't feel like mustering a smile that was actually in his honour.
"We heard you were ill," he stated, looking me up and down. "You also seem thinner, but other than that it looked like the rumours were exaggerated."
I raised an eyebrow. "Rumours?"
"People said that you were dead," he explained.
I smiled slightly once more. "Rumours are often evil and seldom correct, Salisbury. You should know that."
He shook his head slightly with a small chuckle. "Sadly, I'm not a scholar like you, so I don't."
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly, my hand playing slightly with the hem of my shirt.
"So, George, how about our deal?" he asked the next moment, making me suddenly remember the agreement we'd come to back then.
I shook my head slightly. "I don't want your boys," I stated softly.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Into girls now, are you, Cornwall?"
Another roll of my eyes, this time less in good humour. "Not for a minute. I'm just not into a new boy every night anymore."
He looked horrified. "Are you getting attached, George?"
"I'm sorry, Frederick, but that is none of your business," I answered, my voice lowering to something close to a growl.
I heard a door open and close and a hand running discreetly across my back.
"I'll go hear if Master Good has anything he needs me to do for him, milord," Brendon told me quickly before making to leave.
He didn't manage to, though.
Frederick's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and stopping him, pulling him back too, actually. "So this is George's permanent whore?" he asked with a smirk.
I'd have punched him, but I didn't.
Brendon just caught my eye, giving me that hurt look again as his lower lip instinctively fell out in something that reminded me of a pout, only more hurt and more scared.
I tried to assure him nothing would happen, sending him a small smile before I looked at Frederick again. "Let go of him," I hissed.
He laughed slightly. "What happened to the nice, sharing George?" he inquired.
'He fell in love.'
"I'm sorry, but I don't want anybody else touching my valet," I returned, my voice low and angry.
Finally he let Brendon go. Not without grabbing his behind before he got out of reach, though.
If eyes could kill...
Well, let's just say that the earl would've suddenly been a youngest son short. Times two.
Brendon scrambled back over to stand by my side and I wanted to kiss him or grab his hand or whatever else it would take to calm him down.
But I couldn't, not in front of people, and we both knew that.
"Brendon, you're right," I told him. "You should go report to Matt."
He nodded and hurried off.
"Just because you don't want what I owe you doesn't mean I don't get what you own me, right?" Frederick asked.
I didn't answer; I just looked him with angry eyes.
"Because that's the one I want. I can understand why you're taken with him. Pretty face, lovely arse," he commented. "But the last bit I suppose you know all about."
I didn't. And it was up to Brendon to decide if I ever would.
"Did I not make it clear that he's not to be touched?" I asked angrily.
He shrugged. "I distinctly remember you saying something along the lines of, 'take your pick'," he argued, still with that annoying smirk on his face.
"When I said that Brendon wasn't even employed at our estates," I informed the older man, my eyes narrowing.
"What does it matter? Come on, George. Be a good sport."
"Anyone but him," I told the man, still angrier than I'd been for a while.
He rolled his eyes. "As if it's going to stop me. You owe me."
"Lay a hand on him and I'll personally ruin the wedding. You might feel sorry for me over being the first-born, but I'll make you sorry that you're an expendable younger son who can easily be thrown into a monastery without the bloodline suffering," I hissed, almost spitting in his face.
He huffed angrily.
A moment later he was back to calm and collected, though, smirk back and all. "Do you want to go try out our archery pitch?"
What?
Talk about changing the subject.
"No I bloody don't," I answered, Brendon's cursing sneaking into my sentence again.
Finally he took the hint and turned on his heel, leaving in the opposite direction that Brendon had walked in.
I followed in my valet's steps, though, quickly reaching Matt's quarters and walking inside.
Brendon turned around from where he'd apparently been talking to my brother and sent me an angry look.
"I'm sorry about that," I replied. "Hopefully he caught on, though," I added.
He sent me an insecure half-smile before walking over and finally grasping my hand.
I leaned forward and kissed him briefly, sending him a small smile. "I love you and I won't let anything more happen to you," I told him.
His smile seemed to turn real.
But I still knew I never ever should've made that deal.