An Earl's Desire

[haremfaery]

"Fie on't! I'm barely drunk at all." Orson laughed. "As you can see, you are the only waif here, Ambrose." His voice softened, "I need no other. I take great care rounding that corner since that night I came upon you."

Orson looked Ambrose over, he seemed out of sorts. But then, he had roused him from a sound sleep. He watched the way Ambrose touched the coins. Orson picked out the pennies and hefted them in his palm. "These are for you. I suspect my game has improved by teaching you how to play. I've also been thinking about your place in my household. I'd like you to train to be a Yeoman of the Chamber. What say you?"

Thomas entered with food and wine and set it on the table. Orson stopped him on his way out and flipped him a groat.

"Thank you, m'lord." Thomas bowed himself out.

Orson picked the coins off the bed. "Did you have a bad night? Do you need more laudanum?"

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose was as surprised by the coins that had been dropped into his hand as he was by the sudden offer of employment. He fingered the pennies one by one, amazed by his sudden wealth.

"Yeoman of the Chamber," he repeated thoughtfully. "I know not what it means, but if you say it's a fitting position for me, I shall learn it with all my heart."

A moment later, following the example of Thomas and the other servants, he added a soft, "M'lord."

His large blue eyes followed first the food that had arrived, and then the movements of the earl as he collected his night's winnings.

"It was not the finest night I've had," he admitted, though he did not betray that it had little to do with the pain around his ribs.

"I should very much like a bit of the laudanum," he begged, knowing it would help him relax and cheer up. "But... I would not want you to continue spending so much on me."

He thought for a moment and then held out his small handful of pennies to Orson. "You should keep them. God knows you've done more than enough for me."

 

[haremfaery]

"Thomas is my Gentleman of the Chamber. As yeoman, you would assist me, and me. Thomas will help train you. You'll take care of my clothing, shave me, help me in the bath, should I need it." Orson winked. "Accompany me on occasion. With Christmas coming, I'll be attending feasts and other gatherings." He unbuttoned his doublet and tossed it on the windowseat. "Be my cupbearer. My companion."

Orson sat on a chair. "Damme, I should have had Thomas remove my boots." He worked them off himself then put on his slippers. He went for the wine and laudanum. "That is, of course, once you are fit enough." He measure out the drug into the wine and brought it to Ambrose.

"I will spend my money how I wish." He folded Ambrose's fingers around the pennies. "Your offer tells me that you are an honorable lad. I have made the right choice. You will make me a good yeoman." He patted Ambrose's fist. "Now, be a good companion and smile and eat with me!"

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose cradled the coins he'd been given and finally managed a small smile, despite the feeling of intense shyness that had come over him. Be a good companion, smile, eat. Help him with clothing and his cups. Was that all he'd have to do to be a fine servant? It sounded downright pleasant.

He took the offered cup happily, knowing it would help him greatly with smiling and relaxing with his master. The coins set aside for now, he finally worked himself fully free of the covers and curled up next to Orson in his nightshirt, reaching for the treats on the offered plate.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I am so honoured. I do very much look forward to learning more from Thomas, and of course, from you."

He drank his laudanum-laced wine quicker than he normally would, despite it being early in the morning. Orson had requested good companionship and smiles - he would find such things easier when the draught had made him looser and a little silly.

"You would really take me to feasts and such?" he wondered. "Wouldn't I embarrass you?"

 

[haremfaery]

Orson pressed his palm against Ambrose's cheek moved once again by the lad's shyness and humility. "Ah, Ambrose. You will not embarrass me. I will take you places for practice before taking you to the queen's court. I'll take you to The Mermaid, do you know that tavern? Perhaps you'll bring me even more luck with you there to kiss the dice. Or to the theater--the Globe or the Swan. I believe Master Shakespeare has a new play." He popped a sweetmeat into his mouth. "I shall have suits in my livery made for you. My colors will look good on you." Orson grinned. He downed more wine.

"If you wish, we can begin your training tonight--or this morning really. Help me dress for bed." He stood up. Just start at the top," he indicated his ruff." And work your way down." He smirked.

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose smiled bemusedly between gulps from his cup. The Mermaid, The Globe, The Swan - places he'd only heard distant talk of. What a life he'd unwittingly stumbled into! And how unexpected that this rakish, fun-loving, carefree, and shockingly wealthy nobleman actually wanted him around for companionship.

"I think I could enjoy going... anywhere... with you," he decided with a little smile and a blush. He felt a strange, fluttery sensation in his chest and wondered if the laudanum was already taking effect.

"So long as you do not leave my side."

After having a few bites, he stood to obey his master, still feeling slightly giddy. He wasn't sure exactly the right way to do this, which was frustrating since he'd been around on several occasions when Thomas helped the master undress. He stood in front of Orson and reached behind him to untie the ruff. Maybe he should have stood behind him for this - now it was strangely close to an embrace, and there was nowhere to look except straight into Orson's eyes as his fingers fumbled with the delicate strings.

 

[haremfaery]

Orson laughed. Ambrose was quite fetching when he blushed. "You have it backwards, my lad. 'Tis you who must not leave my side when we go out. I must send for the tailor tomorrow to get your livery. I can't have you looking like a commoner." Orson was looking forward to seeing Ambrose in his colors, another aspect of how possessive he felt about him.

Orson stood waiting for Ambrose to remove his ruff. He raised his eyebrows when the lad stood before him and put his hands behind his neck. He watched the blush bloom in Ambrose's cheeks. Sweet Jesu, he was a pretty creature. He had only to move forward just a little to kiss those rosy lips. Thoughts ran though his mind like leaves on the wind. To kiss or no? Kiss gently? Nay, he wanted to grab the lad by his waist--which he could span easily with both hands, and crush him against his chest whilst sparring with his tongue. He wanted to see Ambrose's face flushed with lust. He wanted ... He. Wanted.

Instead, he cocked his head and smirked. "In this position, we should hug, kiss, or dance. Which do you prefer?"

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose's rosy cheeks turned even ruddier. He couldn't tell if Orson was teasing him for the same reasons Thomas had likened his appearance to that of a "maiden", or if he actually had some sort of intent. Certainly the earl had already kissed him, but he could not presume the meaning of it, if any.

"I make no habit of any such things," he responded after a lengthy pause, still trying to puzzle out the ties at the back of the ruff.

At last he managed to loosen the strings, and pulled the ring of ruffled fabric free of Orson's neck, setting it carefully aside, along with a bit of the strange yet exciting tension.

"Do you mock me," he wondered aloud, "for looking girlish? Thomas has made certain... remarks... but he says it weren't mockery."

 

[haremfaery]

"Not dancing, I can understand. But Ambrose, your lips were made for kissing." Orson managed to lay his palm against the lad's cheek and brush his thumb across his lower lip before he moved away with the ruff.

Orson took a breath. When someone took his fancy, he found it easy to get them to laugh and respond to his flirtations. But Ambrose was guarded and took his overtures as insults. "I would never mock you, Ambrose." He found himself drawing out the second syllable of the lad's name. It was like a kiss the way his lips pursed when he spoke it. "You are not girlish in the least. Just ... comely. Thomas was surprised, as was I. Like finding a diamond in the dirt. Fine bones, delicate features, large eyes. To me, you are the best of what men and women have to offer."

Orson held out his arm so Ambrose could untie the cuff of his shirt. This was very unlike him. He felt a fool trying to woo Ambrose. He rarely needed to chase an amoureux. He felt awkward and on edge. He hadn't had a lover in a month. He hadn't wanted one. He wanted Ambrose.

The realization came to him that it was the challenge as much as the lad himself that made Orson want him.

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose lowered his eyes demurely. His lip tingled from the man's gentle touch. He sucked it inside his mouth for a few moments, as if Orson had left a flavour there that he wanted to get a thorough taste of.

He tried to concentrate on his task, working on the shirt cuffs with meticulous care, and then stepping close to the man once more to tackle the ties at his neck and chest. It was difficult to keep focus with all of these perplexing statements coming from the earl.

"I am not a diamond... only a bit of dirt," he murmured. "If God made me for kissing, he's played a cruel joke on me, making me be born into rubbish. I know nothing of romance, or... comeliness. You are very kind... but... far too generous."

His eyes travelled downward to the earl's waist, whereupon he pulled the bottom hem of the shirt free and began to slide it up. Suddenly his heart was pounding rapidly.

 

[haremfaery]

"Perhaps 'twas God that made our paths meet. That by showing you charity I may wipe clean a few of my many sins." He smiled at Ambrose. Had the lad been someone else, Orson would say he was a coquette, but his shyness was genuine and only captivated Orson more.

He bent down a little and helped Ambrouse remove his shirt. He tried not to smile thinking of

"You know nothing of romance, but surely you have fucked someone." Perhaps even for money, but Orson would not embarrass the lad further by saying so.

His shirt came off with a minimum of fuss to show his base muscled chest. He had a smattering of dark hair across his chest and a trail of hair down his abdomen disappearing under the narrow waistband of his dark blue canions.* He had a nasty scar near his armpit where a lance or arrow might have pierced him. There were a few other scars on his chest and one on across his ribs on his right side. He resisted the temptation to inhale and show off his chest. If his lovers were to be believed, his body was pleasing enough he had no need to try to impress.


_________
*knee-length fitted breeches usually with ribbons or rosette at the outer knee.

 

[tamgreen]

"No," Ambrose said simply, looking down at the shirt he'd removed from his master and trying to treat it delicately as he hung it over the back of a chair. He walked around the man, trying to puzzle out the ornamental breeches.

"Thomas says you fuck what takes your fancy when you go out," he murmured. "I suppose I haven't found much to fancy. Fucking is a filthy business, anyway."

His fingers found more ties and began to work on them. Now and then his eyes flicked up to steal glimpses of his master's chest hair.

"Why speak of romance and fucking in the same breath?" he added, almost in a whisper.

He loosened the canions and began to draw them downward.

 

[haremfaery]

Orson raised his eyebrows momentarily. Ambrose was candid, he'd give him that. "Thomas is a gossip. I shall have to speak yo him about that." Orson smiled to show he wasn't upset about it. "One of the duties of a gentleman of the chamber is to keep his lord's confidences."

"Fucking is a filthy business? What makes you say that?" Orson cocked his head. "True, fucking and romance in the same breath takes the fun from fucking and demeans romance. Fucking is a hunger. You slake it with what's at hand--what 'takes your fancy.' But romance," he sighed. "Love. That is more than two bodies slapping together. 'Tis a meeting of two souls."

Orson stood in his white linen braies* and hose. He toed off her slippers and stepped out of his canions.

___________
* Men's underpants. Some were boxer-like with a yoke and three buttons at the top.

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose stooped down to diligently pick up the shed garment, setting it down near the others he had removed. He then knelt in front of his master and contemplated the hose and undergarment, trying to discover their secrets. He saw more ties, so he reached for them and worked at undoing them without causing any unintentional knots.

"It's a filthy business," he murmured softly, "because it is a business... and it's filthy."

His delicate fingers worked at one stubborn tie that wanted to remain knotted, taking all of his focus for several silent moments.

"The wealthy have freedom to dream of love and romance, I would suppose," he finally mused. "Living out poems and songs. The poor do as they must to survive."

He achieved success with the tie and finally had the hose free, sliding them carefully free to leave Orson in only his underpants.

"My mother did as she must," he added, his eyes downcast. "I wasn't to be ashamed of it. It was a living. But it was indeed a filthy business. Mayhap I saw far more than a boy should. You'll forgive me, I hope, if I'm not so very... romantic."

 

[haremfaery]

"I will see that you are never poor again. " Orson tried to think of other things than the pretty youth kneeling before him, his nimble fingers so close to his root.

"I'm sorry about your mother, Ambrose. I'm sure she did the best she could. But I'm more sorry that you think so badly about," he paused trying to think of another word to use, but couldn't. "Fucking."

Orson stepped out of his hose. Sblood. He'd have to woo the lad. "You are a challenge, Ambrose. I shall have to teach you about romance. Every man should love and be loved in return. But do not pretend something for my sake.

 

[tamgreen]

With the hose out of the way, Ambrose slowly stood and set them with the other garments. He turned to face the man fully, though Orson was quite a bit taller.

"M'lord... everything I do from this day is for your sake," he said softly. "I would pretend if you wished it of me. I'm happy you wish me not to. I may not do well at pretending if I am slow to learn anything you teach. Especially... romance"

He took a small step back, contemplating the earl's nearly bared lower half.

"Am I to... remove this as well?"

The boy's slender finger gestured to Orson's undergarment.

 

[haremfaery]

Orson grinned. "No lad, I can take off my own braies. Nor will I ever ask you to wipe my arse. That is, not until I am old and feeble." He undid the tie at his waist and let the linen shorts fall to his ankles. He kicked them over toward the chair with his shirt on it. "My nightshirt is in the cupboard, second drawer, there." He pointed. At least the lad washing blushing. "Tomorrow ..." He looked out the window, it was false dawn. "Later today, Thomas can show you where my clothes go and what to do with the dirty linens.

When Ambrose turned to get the nightshirt, Orson had a thought. "This afternoon we will go to the theatre. It will do you good to get out of this house."

-------------
EDIT: Just discovered Elizabethan went to the theatre in the afternoon, because, duh, they didn't have much in the way of artificial lighting.,

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose at first averted his eyes demurely from his master's nakedness, though he struggled to hide the tiny smile that had sprung up by the time he was returning with the nightshirt - the laudanum was hitting him just right by now. He paused, finally looking over Orson from head to toe. He felt a phantom tickle, as if the earl had reached out to touch his soft lip again, but this time he felt it all over him. He sucked his lower lip inside his mouth, pulling back his smile.

What was this feeling? Was this what romance was?

Returning to his task, Ambrose found the bottom hem of the nightshirt and held it out to Orson, though it was truly the lord doing most of the work. The lad made a few unnecessary adjustments, smoothing out the neckline, and then fumbled with the ties in the front, not knowing quite what to do with them.

"What would I wear to the theatre?" he mused, a little colour still flooding his cheeks. "Would you make me look... handsome?"

 

[haremfaery]

Orson took Ambrose's hands in his to keep the lad from fussing. "Leave those." He said meaning the ties on his night shirt. He got his robe himself and pulled it on.

"There's no time to have the tailor make your livery. I'm sure one of the servants has something to fit you. It will do until your clothes are made." Orson smiled. "Ambrose, you are already more fair than most." He ran his fingers through Ambrose's short hair then patted his cheek. But I will see that you are the most handsome servant," he almost said ingle, "at the theatre. We shall sit upon the stage itself so everyone can see you."

Orson had quite forgotten Thomas had brought food for them. "Shall we eat? And then sleep for I expect we'll be awake late into the night." He helped himself to some meat and bread and washed it down with a long drink of wine. "Damme, I'm famished."

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose lowered his eyes at the compliment, but he was drugged up enough to grin and press gently, catlike, into the hand that touched his cheek. Orson was so tactile - it was taking some getting used to, but Ambrose was beginning to see the appeal, particularly so after a cup of wine. Ever since he was old enough to walk on his own, he'd hardly experienced an affectionate touch. He'd grown accustomed to any human touch being a violent one, and now everything had turned around.

He sat with Orson to enjoy the early morning repast, and his good cheer flagged somewhat at the thought of what his master must have been doing that he'd be so hungry at such an hour.

Fucking - it was the obvious answer. He'd worked up an appetite with his favourite physical labour.

Why should Ambrose feel so unhappy about this? Why should he feel jealous? Didn't he want his master to be happy? Hadn't he already expressed his feelings about fucking quite clearly? Was he just feeling sorry for himself because he struggled with the idea of experiencing pleasure and happiness in the same way the wealthy lord did? Or because Orson was the first person to show true kindness, generosity, and warmth toward him, and Ambrose had a hard time sharing him?

If he was going to be a good servant, Ambrose knew he would have to start putting himself aside. Besides, what was the use in puzzling over these unanswerable questions?

He took another piece of bread and sank his teeth into it. He couldn't get enough of that rich butter, and the way it melted in his mouth.

"I'm... quite looking forward to seeing a theatre. Will everyone really see me? I hope I behave right. And I hope you'll correct me if I do not."

When they were finished their meal and ready to sleep, Ambrose hesitated for a moment.

"Will I be... continuing to share your bed?" he whispered. "I know not what is expected of a yeoman of the chamber."

 

[haremfaery]

"It is not so hard to behave properly at the theatre." Orson said around a mouthful of meat. "Laugh if it amuses you. Cry if it makes you sad. You can always follow what the rest are doing.

Orson enjoyed watching Ambrose eat. The lad practically made love to his buttered bread. He continued to think about those lips moist with butter when Ambrose asked, "Will I be... continuing to share your bed?" he whispered. "I know not what is expected of a yeoman of the chamber."

"I kept you in my bed while you convalesced because it was easier for me to tell if you needed more laudanum, or anything else. I admit with the cold weather upon us, I enjoy having your warm body next to me. But if you prefer, you can sleep in the trundle at the foot of the bed, or with the other servants. Although 'tis custom for one of the men of the chamber to sleep in the same room should I require something in the night. You'll spend more time with Thomas who will teach you what you need to know."

Orson knew Ambrose's opinion of fucking, perhaps he was afraid Orson wanted to fuck him. Which was true, but Orson would never force the lad. Orson breathed out, not quite a snort and climbed into bed.

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose slipped beneath the covers and wriggled close to Orson, though not quite touching.

"No one has ever taken care of me before," he whispered. "I should like to take care of you... as I can. I am your servant now. And it will be my pleasure to see to your needs and wants. If it pleases you to have me sleep here... well... I am even more pleased to stay."

He rolled onto his side, facing Orson in the dim light of approaching dawn and the remnant glow of the hearth fire. The man was beautiful, in his way. The broadness and pleasing bulk of him. The dark hair across his chest. The neatly cared for beard. Even his nose, the shape of his cheekbones, the curve of his brow....

"If you bade me be your bedfellow through all seasons, I would not complain."

 

[haremfaery]

This was unexpected. Orson wanted to reach out and pull Ambrose to him. Crush him with kisses. He took a breath. "I would not complain either." He smiled and ran his fingers through Ambrose's hair then pulled his face closer. He planted a chaste kiss on Ambrose's forehead. His friends and lovers would laugh him out of the room if they saw him like this.

He was still afraid to approach Ambrose in a sexual manner. He didn't want Ambrose to respond out of some sense of duty or repayment. Or was he afraid Ambrose would reject him? No one rejected him. So why was he being so hesitant?

He shifted on the bed and his feet brushed Ambrose's. "God's teeth! Your feet are like ice." He pulled the lad closer letting him rest his head on Orson's shoulder. "Let me warm them." He put his leg over Ambrose's. "Better?"

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose closed his eyes when the earl touched him, kissed him. He tensed a little, unaccustomed to embraces of all kinds. It was pleasant, being touched and kissed, even if it still made him nervous.

His feet were cold? Ambrose was used to this being simply a part of life. Of course his feet were cold. Only recently had he been given a proper pair of shoes.

But oh, how lovely and warm it was to be suddenly drawn close, leaning on the broad, solid shoulder of the man whose bed he shared, feeling that strong leg wind around his, a warm foot resting against his chilled one.

"Oh," was all he could breathe at first.

It struck Ambrose immediately how alive Orson was, when he was this close. It was a silly thought - everyone was alive. He knew that. Everybody had a heart that beat and breath that filled their chests and blood and other humours flowing through their bodies. But only at this proximity, with nothing between them but the soft fabric layers of their sleepclothes, did Ambrose truly feel that vital warmth and deep soul knowledge of another person close to him.

With nowhere else to put his hand, Ambrose set it upon Orson's chest, finding the subtle throb of the man's steady, strong heartbeat.

"Better," he finally whispered, smiling faintly.

 

[haremfaery]

Orson smiled. He took Ambrose's hand and kissed it and placed it back over his heart. "Good."

Now that they had physically touched while in bed, and Ambrose didn't shy away, Orson found it easy to keep in contact through what was left of the dawn and into the morning. He awoke to find himself curled around Ambrose's thin body, the lad's back pressed against his front. He felt a twitch in his groin. He yawned and reluctantly rolled away from Ambrose and out of bed to use the privy. When he finished he put on his robe and slippers and rang for Thomas.

There was much to be done. First, break his fast. Then, find something suitable for Ambrose to wear. Orson did want to show him off to his friends. He rounded the bed and leaned over to kiss Ambrose's forehead. "Time to wake, sleepyhead."