Panting behind the hand, Yirel closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see the avarice directed at him. He knew he’d been playing with fire and he’d pushed anyway… Hells he’d wanted to push. With his face burning Yirel gathered up the dress in his fists until everything from the hips down was exposed. Rhin’s harsh breath pushed hot and moist at the side of his neck, and the hand at his chest moved to cup his groin instead. He was wearing the panties, garter and stockings as Rhin had wanted. Feeling the rough grip palming him through the lace, the hand over his mouth and the indecency of it all- “Mmmmph..!” His thighs trembled as he pushed against the touch, and his own breathing was hitched and labored. Yirel moaned again as he felt himself getting hard. He really was a deviant, wasn’t he?
Cavish echoed his thoughts a moment later. “You’re so lewd Darling,” he growled, squeezing the growing bulge. Yirel whimpered as his hips stuttered forward. “Mm… Did you think you could flaunt yourself in front of me unscathed?” He nipped at Yirel’s neck, the pressure of his grip increasing to near painful levels. But not quite. With brutal efficiency Rhindov pleasured him, leaving him raw and aching and needy. The music of the ball going on below masked any sounds of his that might have escaped, and Rhin taunted him as the waves of harsh pleasure built. Rhindov shifted; his foot pushing Yirel’s and spreading his legs wider as the high lord began to rut against his thigh.
“Ngh, did you think I hadn’t taken note of you? That you could waltz in my home, drink my wine-mmgh-and not draw my attention?” He had. He’d thought that ‘Darling’ was too lowborn to really call attention. A bit of mysterious fun, yes. A passing entertainment. Not the subject of obsession. He wasn’t really holding the dress up anymore, his hands crushed between his body and Rhindov’s while the cruel groping continued. Instead he tried to clutch at the coat. Tears pricked behind his eyes; the chaffing of the lace under Rhin’s hand hurt but he kept thrusting into it. He arched against the wall, his shamed moan pulled from him as a questing wave of pleasure centered on his loins. “I’ve wanted you Darling, you just gave me what I needed to keep you.”
Yirel shuddered and tried to hold back another moan. He failed, and only Rhin’s hand kept them from being heard. He could feel the thick bulge of his cock rubbing against him through the layers of clothes, his hot breath moving up his neck to his ear full of repressed need. He rolled his hips eagerly into the punishing grip, riding the tide of his climax up and up…
“Do you want to come, Quaice?”
Yirel shook and whined, straining against Rhindov. Wasn’t it obvious?
Rhin abruptly pulled away, only to capture Yirel’s wrists and keep them pinned to his side.The skirt fell wrinkled to the floor and a strangled gasp slipped past his lips before Yirel realized Rhindov’s hands were absent from their previous locations. His eyes shot open as he strained forward with a whimper. “Ngh-you…you bastard. Mmmph…”
~*~
Rhin panted as he held Yirel’s hands to his side. The lordling struggled against him and glared at him with pure fire, and he smiled at him. The lust, anger, and confusion made for a pretty picture.
“Let me go..!” Yirel hissed, trying in vain to pull his hands free. He was on the verge of tears and the frustration of being denied seemed almost enough to push him over. The small sounds he was making between breaths made Rhin all the happier he’d decided to back off when he did.
“Hush, Darling. Or I can bend you over the railing and punish you in front of our guests.” That made him go still and quiet; looking up at him with wide eyes. He still heaved in deep breaths, and shivered with lust, but now he watched Rhin carefully above all else. “Good.”
“Ng-Yes… I did, Sir.” He glanced away as the flush returned to his cheeks. Rhin grit his teeth as desire surged through his veins; his grip tightening on Yirel’s wrist. His lordling whined and looked back at him with tear-bright eyes. “Thank you for the reminder, Sir..!”
“It was my pleasure,” he said, forcing himself to loosen his grip. What was it about Quaice that made it so easy to let his control slip? He looked down Yirel’s body; only a small bump in the dress showed. His own erection was much more obviously straining at the front of his trousers. As much as he’d love to take them back to his quarters and spend the rest of the night finishing the job for both of them, duties did in fact call first. “Once you’ve calmed enough, we will go enjoy the garden. Our guests need to see us.”
Yirel sagged against the wall. “Yessir.” He looked away again with his fists flexing. It seemed most of the fight had drained out of him for the moment. Rhin swallowed.The rapid fluttering of Yirel’s pulse racing under his fingers slowed before he let his lordling go.
Quaice snatched his hands to his chest and shuddered. Rhin looked him over before clicking his tongue. “Here, your cosmetics are smudged...” Pulling a kerchief from his coat pocket he motioned for Yirel to look at him. With a knuckle under his chin, Rhindov carefully wiped the evidence of his handling away, resorting the mask of paint to near perfection. Doe-eyes watched him, wary at first. But eventually he did see the spark of rebellion birthed once more.
Smirking he tucked the cloth back into a pocket and took a step back while holding out his hand. Yirel gathered himself with a deep breath and placed his hand in Rhin’s as he pulled himself away from the wall and straightened his spine. Drawing him in close, Rhin brought them forward on the balcony and together they looked out over the dancing and frolicing and drinking going on below. Some stopped and openly turned to look and raise glasses. Far more pretended to go on with their merriment while watching from the corner of their eyes. “First, let us return to our meal for the time. It would be a shame if my Darling were to grow faint before the night was even begun.”
“As you say, Lord Cavish, Sir.”
He smirked at the double use of a title and stepped away to once more take Yirel’s chair out for him. After just a second of hesitation the lordling followed and sat. Rhin wasn’t too concerned. Quaice has shown that he was possessed of a fighter's spirit. He had no doubt he’d be back to form in no time. And it was just so fun to spar with him and show him just how untrained he was. Maybe that’s what spurred Rhin on?
Taking his own chair, Rhindov flicked his fingers towards a corner; with a faint ripple of green over the gilded body a statue stepped down from a short pedestal, came to stand next to the table and began to serve them both from the trays. It was a vaguely feminine creature in the way of dolls, fashioned after a wood nymph. They ate in silence though he could tell Yirel wanted to speak; if only to ask questions about the animated statue. But he kept his silence, and Rhin didn’t want to goad him. Not yet at least. The relative peace sat comfortable enough that he wouldn’t disturb it.
It also gave him another opportunity to watch Yirel-as-Darling without interruption. Even angry and flustered he still moved with a quiet and sure grace that had first caught his eye. It looked effortless. Rhin wondered if it was a natural habit or one that his lordling had practiced at for hours. Perhaps in front of a mirror? Those were thoughts to follow at another time however. The golden nymph, who’s hair was a cluster of branches and twigs began to ‘bloom’ small mage lights that drifted away to float in the air, moved towards the stairs as Rhin stood. “Time for our stroll, Darling.”
Yirel sighed softly and stood as well. “Yes, Lord Cavish.” He came and wrapped himself around his arm, just as a love-struck woman might, and Rhin reached over to cover a hand with his own. The nymph was silent as it drifted down the stairs, and it was nothing more than stated fact that everyone was watching them as they descended from the balcony with such a herald. The music continued but no-one danced as they passed through the ballroom to the gardens outside. A flick of his fingers opened the doors for them before they arrived, and more heavily dispersed the little moth-lights among his guests.
Pulling Yirel to a pause with him, he turned and addressed them all with a calculatedly charming smile. “I do hope you are all enjoying the evening?” He waited as a murmuring passed through the crowd- mostly agreeance peppered with humors calls for more wine. He laughed and looked for a human servant, and motioned for them to fetch the vintage. It was supposed to be something of a celebration tonight after all. Yirel cooed and simpered on his arm, slipping a hand free and wiggling fingers gayly at women in the crowd. The more wine that flowed the better. “Ha,ha..! Good call my friend. I invite you all not enamored of dancing to join us for a walk about the garden. It truly is beautiful this time of year and I’d hate for anyone to miss it.”
Yirel swished his skirt and bounced up on his toes next to him, and Rhin had to commend the performance. “My dear Lord Cavish, you certainly do know how to set the scene.” His voice was pitched to carry softly over the din of people whispering to their friends and conspirators. Those who noticed would feel like they were catching something others weren’t. “I dare say, I feel just a touch selfish however and do not want to share you just yet…” With a playful giggle Rhindov was pulled towards the doors and out into the gardens. It caught him by surprise, but it fed into his plans so he let it happen. Yirel’s grip on him was anything but playful though. He was angry once more, and Rhin’s spitfire had returned.
Cheers and a few suggestive whistles followed them out into the evening air as Yirel followed the trail of lights left behind from the wandering nymph. He glanced back, not at Rhindov but the crowd of nobles that were politely milling around waiting to follow them like a pack of hungry dogs. Then he looked at Rhin with a scowl. “To be seen is one thing, Lord Cavish, and to have people emboldened to join us and ask questions is another! Why must you be so intentionally infuriating?”
Rhindov laughed and pulled them to a slower pace even as Yirel glared and eventually took his place once more on his arm. “Why must you rise so easily to the bait? And what are you so afraid of Quaice? Whatever questions they have I’m more than sure we are capable of fielding.” He could feel the grumble as the lordling bristled next to him, and it just made his grin all the wider.
“That was not my concern, Sir. I know I have kept my peace on this matter between us suffice to say that the interest is real, and there have been a great many people asking for any tidbit. What of you? What details have you decided on that I now have to play by?”
“Ah. That’s fair. Rest assured though, I haven’t spun any tales either, aside from the ones you know.” He felt some of the stiffness flow away from Quaice’s shoulders. “Obviously, we must tell them something besides the truth, and it had always been my intention to have Darling be the one to spread that lie.”
“Wha- Beg pardon, Lord Cavish?”
Rhin looked down at Yirel and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Even before, I knew Darling had to have a sharp enough wit to make something believable up if and when ‘she’ would have to. The way you’ve dodged inquiries in the past is enough of a testament to that. And with -truths- uncovered I am even more confident in that assessment of you Quaice. To be frank; You’re an excellent liar and skilled at hiding the truth. I want you to use those skills for both our benefit. I’ll accommodate those tales of course. Within reason.” Yirel was watching him from the corner of his eye and Rhin could just about hear the gears clicking together in his head. Quickly overwhelming that imagined sound were the voices of the first brave few who had followed them out. And he knew them. “Be ready Darling.” He caught the edge of a smirk from Yirel as he looked away.
Together they turned to face the first group. Friends and acquaintances joined them on the gravel path while curious onlookers spread out behind them. The sounds of the music filled out into the mostly quiet space; a mixture of arcane enhancements and the players in the garden striking up. The majority of the guests would of course pretend to be engaged in their own affairs. But no matter what was said between Yirel, he and this select handful of people; everything would be shared with the assembly before the week was out.
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