An Earl's Desire

[tamgreen]

The lad was slow to waken, despite having had such a long sleep. Sleeping late was a novel and indulgent luxury for him such that he took great pleasure in it, yet never failed to feel a twinge of guilt upon waking and spying the position of the sun through an open curtain.

He stretched like a cat and blinked several times before focusing his eyes on Orson, only belatedly feeling the warm tickle where the kiss had landed before he was fully awake.

"Oh... good morning," he said in a hoarse, raspy little voice. He felt groggy and a bit silly, as if the wine were still affecting him. Perhaps it was.

He kicked back the covers and crawled out, smiling up at his master. He remained perched on his knees on the bed, looking expectant and ready despite his tousled hair and the pink sleep lines creasing one side of his smooth young face.

"What does my lord wish of me this morning? Shall I undress you?"

He offered an almost cheeky grin, as if servitude were some marvellous game.

 

[haremfaery]

Orson's eyebrows went up. This was a lovely change. "And what will you do once I am undressed?" Orson answered with a cheeky grin of his own.

Thomas arrived with breakfast. Frizzled eggs with cheese, soft beer, and bread with plenty of butter since Orson had noted Ambrose had a particular liking for it.

"Thank you, Thomas. Check with the rest of the servants and see if anyone has outgrown their livery. I need something for Ambrose. And call the tailor." He thought a moment. "And see who else is due for a new set of clothing. I'm going to the theatre and taking Ambrose. I want him in my livery, he'll be my attendant."

"Very good, milord." Thomas nodded. He looked form one to the other. Orson was not one to take servants with him when he went out. But since Thomas assumed that the two were lovers, it didn't surprise him. Orson had never indicated any interest in Thomas that way, but he was happy for his lord, especially since it made him more generous. Thomas bowed himself out.

"So ..." Orson's grin was back. "We were talking about you undressing me--or do you prefer to break your fast first?" He knew how much Ambrose liked to eat. Truth be told he enjoyed watching Ambrose enjoy himself.

 

[tamgreen]

And what will you do once I am undressed?

He would help the earl put on his clothes for the day - what else? Yet Ambrose did not have a chance to reply, nor to account for the blush that rose in his cheeks at Orson's grin.

He had been excited to undress his master, and now his master knew it.

The breakfast was a convenient distraction, although he could not interpret the look Thomas gave him. Once again Ambrose became apprehensive that his position in this household might be stepping on someone's toes, although there was nothing threatening or even upset in Thomas's expression. He mainly looked mildly curious.

Left alone again with his master, Ambrose returned to smiling.

"It should be your preference, milord," the lad replied, barely suppressing a giggle, "though I don't imagine you would prefer to eat naked."

With one more smirk Ambrose stepped away to use the privy, the wine he'd had earlier demanding to make its exit. When he lifted the lid of the box, he glanced back over his shoulder, wondering whether Orson was watching him.

 

[haremfaery]

"The room is warm, the food is hot. We'll eat first." Orson decided. He enjoyed eating with Ambrose since the lad enjoyed it so much. Being with Ambrose made him appreciate things he took for granted.

He watched the lad walk to the privy. He wasn't favoring his side any longer. That was good. Ambrose caught him watching him. Orson gave him a wink. He couldn't tell of the lad was more relaxed around him or if the laudanum was making him giddy. Perhaps it was time to lower the dose again.

"If you can't piss with someone watching, I can have a screen put up." Orson sat at the table and poured beer for the two of them. "I never bothered with one before--just something else I could knock over if I came home too drunk." Although Orson had been much more moderate in his drinking since taking Ambrose in. He had moderated quite a bit of his life since Ambrose came into his life. He hadn't fucked anyone is weeks. He hadn't wanted to. What he wanted was Ambrose.

To keep from thinking of all the ways he wanted Ambrose, he downed the beer and poured another. He would not touch the lad with anything but platonic affection unless and until Ambrose asked him to. Begged him to. He pictured Ambrose on his knees on the beg as he had been earlier, face flushed, cheeky grin--He scrubbed a hand through his hair. He'd be tenting his nightshirt if he continued down that road.

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose stood over the chamber pot, prick in hand, waiting for his stream to come. Orson's offer of a screen seemed almost a challenge to the lad - perhaps it was an unseemly thought, but now he found himself specifically desiring to piss with someone watching, purely on principle.

"I haven't anything you've not seen already," Ambrose pointed out, remembering how he'd been undressed on first waking in this room, after the accident. Or had it only been Thomas or the other servants who'd undressed him?

The wet trickling sound of water on water heralded Ambrose's success, and as he pissed, he turned his head aside again, not looking directly at Orson but getting a sense of him, his posture seeming to suggest he expected to be watched.

His prick was suddenly thickening in his hand, and as his breath quickened, his piss stream began to struggle. He finally closed his eyes and tried to calm his body, coaxing the last of his piss out before shaking off his half-hardened tool and carefully tucking it away. He hadn't expected something as mundane as a morning piss to become such a vulgar excitement. He kept his head down as if in penance as he hurried to take hold of the cup he'd been poured and quaffed most of the beer in one breath.

At last Ambrose took a seat and helped himself to the bread - was there even more butter than usual? He wanted to devour it but instead took his time. Slow bites, savouring both the flavours and sensations. Inevitably he ended up with butter melted over his fingertips, and somehow this too seemed to pique his vulgar imagination - it had been some time since he'd taken a private moment to play with himself and empty his balls, but now he was thinking of it a lot, and of how exquisite it might feel to have this slick melted butter all over his hand as he...

Quickly Ambrose licked his fingertips clean and gulped the rest of his beer.

"Is there... more?" he asked breathlessly, raising his cup.

 

[haremfaery]

Orson grinned. Even if Ambrose was shy, his cock was not. And a handsome cock it was--what bit Orson could see of it.

Orson ate slowly dipping his buttered bread into the egg yolk. He watched Ambrose eat having a hard time keeping the smile from his face. "Ambrose, you turn eating into an amorous rite. 'Tis not bread and wine that is your communion, but bread and butter." His smile fully formed showing his white even teeth. He poured more beer for Ambrose. "There is always more. You may help yourself." Orson would have licked those fingers clean for him. And kiss those buttered lips. He wasn't sure how long he could remain chaste with Ambrose.

 

[tamgreen]

An amorous rite. Ambrose was often lost in the earl's florid language, but he thought he knew what amor referred to. Was Orson saying he made love to his food? It made the lad a trifle self-conscious, although the lingering effects of his earlier dose of laudanum kept a dreamy little smirk upon his lips.

"Butter is like... heaven," he whispered. "I still can't get over it. I came here an ugly starved thing, and now I have butter every day. You'll make a glutton of me, milord."

After gulping down a fair amount of his second cup, Ambrose lifted his nightshirt to bare his chest - still thin and very flat, but the stark shadows that had defined his ribs so intensely upon his arrival, giving him a horrifyingly skeletal appearance, had all but faded by now. He was finally retaining a bit of fat, his body filling in all those unhealthy hollows. His small nipples were rosy pink, contracting a little at the kiss of open air.

"Look - my bones don't stick out so much now," he realized.

 

[haremfaery]

Orson laughed. "Ah. Not an amorous rite, then, but a religious one. For myself, I must say there are other things that bring me closer to heaven than butter. I suppose that's why they call it the little death." Orson ate more eggs. "I think I have a distance to go to make you a glutton. However, I have allowed you to be slothful. But that will be remedied soon."

"Look - my bones don't stick out so much now."

Orson's breath stuck in his throat. He coughed not taking his eyes from Ambrose's thin chest. But the lad was right, he was no longer sickly looking. His skin had a healthy glow in the sunlight. Sweet Jesu, he wanted to kiss thos nipples. He cleared his throat and his mind.

"You have filled out nicely. Your hair has grown back. You are very handsome." He recollected that Ambrose did not like to be called pretty. "We will be quite a pair at the theatre today."

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose's rosy cheeks darkened at the compliments, but he remained smiling. Handsome was nothing he'd ever been, nor ever had the luxury of giving a thought to, but now that all of his physical needs were met and he was getting healthy, there was room to get acquainted with more frivolous concerns.

The lad glanced across the room at the looking glass. It seemed such a short time ago that his head had been shaved bare - now he had pretty curls falling across his smooth brow. He'd never even known the true colour of his hair before, nor considered the colour of his own eyes.

He would be made a vainglorious peacock as well as a glutton before long.

Shifting his gaze to Orson finally, he grinned, considering the much larger man's far more masculine, rugged features in contrast to his own.

"You are the handsome one," he declared. "I'm sure all your... lovers... agree. I wouldn't have thought a servant is meant to be noticed, but you seem to want me to be so."

The lad finally tucked into his eggs, following Orson's lead in using the bread to mop up the soft yolk.

 

[haremfaery]

"I suppose my lovers find me comely enough. The fact that I am also an earl adds sauce to the goose." He laughed. "As to you being noticed ... my servants are a reflection of me. You will be attending me and thus, you will be noticed. I look forward to seeing you in my livery. Now finish eating so that you can dress me and we can get your own clothes sorted."

Orson was sure his friends would notice Ambrose, he was a very pretty lad. His naivete was charming. His total lack of dissembling was adorable.

He finished his eggs, downed the rest of his beer, then stretched extravagantly. He was looking forward to taking Ambrose to the play. He hadn't attended a play in some time. It would be good to see Will again.

"'Tis a comedy they are doing, I think."

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose hastened to finish his breakfast as instructed, eager to please his master, and gulped back the dregs of his beer before popping up to draw close to the earl.

"Now I suppose this must come off," he spoke up with a restrained smirk, taking hold of the bottom hem of Orson's nightshirt and drawing it upward. "And then I hope you'll tell me what a comedy is like."

The garment seemed to become half tangled before it was off, and a light, almost giddy little burst of laughter arose from Ambrose's throat as he realized he'd bundled the shirt all around his master's face, blinding him for the moment.

He was surprised by the sound that had come from his own mouth - since when was he prone to giggling? - but certainly he was having a pleasant time. Biting his bottom lip, he reached up beneath the nightshirt, carefully lifting the fabric until he had freed Orson's chin. The man lowered his smiling face to peer down at the lad, freeing himself from the bonds of the neckline, and for a few moments the shirt formed a private little tent over both of them.

"There you are," Ambrose whispered in the small, fabric-swathed space. "I thought I had lost you, milord."

 

[haremfaery]

"Never, Ambrose. You will never lose me." Orson whispered back and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed Ambrose on the lips. He remembered himself and straightened up removing the nightshirt as he did. It didn't help his thoughts, or his body, standing there naked in front of Ambrose. His cock twitched. He took a breath and thought about when he fought in Cadiz.

"You may start with my braies and hose and I shall tell you about comedy. A comedic play has a happy ending. A tragedy may have some amusing parts or characters, but it never ends well." Orson's body was under control again to his great relief. "In a comedy, there are funny characters, funny situations, and many jests. Afterward, we will go to the Mermaid and continue our entertainment with food and drink and merry wit."

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose's heart thundered when the earl's lips touched his. It wasn't the first time Orson had kissed him, but this time he was wide awake and alert for it. His lips buzzed warmly for quite some time in the wake of it. He appeared dazed and befuddled, trying to remember what braies were.

The under-trousers - of course. The garment that would conceal his master's genitals, which were currently out in the open, and which Ambrose was trying very hard not to look directly at.

Did he kiss his other servants? Was this a common thing? Ambrose tried to remember, as he worked out which way the braies were supposed to go, if he'd ever seen Orson kiss Thomas or any of the others.

"Why would one choose a bad ending...," he wondered aloud as he knelt down before Orson. Realizing belatedly where this placed him in relation to the earl's hanging prick, it took him several moments to gather his wits enough to finish his thought.

"...wh... when they may have a happy one?"

 

[haremfaery]

"Perhaps I should put the braies on myself." Orson suggested, if only so he could turn away from Ambrose and get his cock under control. Ambrose kneeling before him was a fantasy made real.

He picked up his braies and put them on while answering--or trying to answer Ambrose's question. He could see why the lad would not understand wanting to see a tragedy--he had had a lifetime of it, Orson was sure.

"I am not sure why people enjoy tragic plays. Mayhap because they are relieved that their life is better than those in the play. Or they are reassured that they would not make the same mistakes that brought about the tragedy. Mayhap there is a lesson to be learned from another's tragedy." Orson shrugged as he turned around. "Sometimes you forget your own sorrows when you are distracted by those of another."

He handed his hose to Ambrose and sat down. "I shall take you to a tragedy another and you can make your own opinion."

 

[tamgreen]

When Orson turned away momentarily to don his braies, Ambrose got a brief but pleasing eyeful of his muscular buttocks. The earl looked fine from every angle.

The lad drew close with the hose, sliding one up the man's leg, taking his sweet time at it, admiring every inch of his master.

"I suppose," he agreed in a soft, distracted voice. His eyes flicked up to find Orson's, and he offered a small, bashful smile. "If you want to embarrass me, sitting me on a stage and making me cry in front of gentlemen and ladies."

He pulled the leg of the hose up higher and, distractedly watching his master's face instead of his leg, he accidentally let his hand bump up against something that he was sure was the earl's prick, through the fabric of his braies. Gasping softly, Ambrose drew his hands back as if burned, glancing down and then up again, wide-eyed, searching for some sign that he'd offended.

"Beg pardon," he breathed.

 

[haremfaery]

Cuds-me,* were the lad's fingers lingering on his leg? Any more of this and his roger would be at full attention.

"I would never knowingly embarrass you, Ambrose. Besides, many cry at the tragedies. The author or the play would be flattered to know his words evoked such emotions." Talking about the theatre kept his mind off of his cock and Ambrose's hands. Those hands that were not so soft as a noblewoman's nor yet so calloused as a labourer. Orson's own were toughened from fighting in the queen's various wars. He was no court fop, though he dressed the part and enjoyed his creature comforts. Right now he sorely wanted Ambrose's rosebud mouth around his cock.

At that very moment, the lad's hand brushed his cock. Orson looked down and saw the ... fear, was it? in Ambrose's eyes.

"Beg pardon," he breathed.

"You're not the first to touch my cock. You should know it doesn't bite. You've one of your own after all." Orson smirked. "But if you bump it again, I may make you kiss it." Orson tried to sound playful. He might have Ambrose in his bed far sooner than he thought. He buckled the front of the hose and put out his other leg for Ambrose.

_____________
*Elizabethan oath. God-something-me? God-love-me?

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose was thoroughly befuddled by Orson's response to his gaffe. Clearly the man was not the least bit upset, but was there something more to that kiss remark than simply a jest? He hadn't missed the fact that the earl was being increasingly affectionate with him.

For a moment, as he began to slide the hose up Orson's other leg, he considered brushing against the man's cock again on purpose, just to see how far he'd take his little tease.

Instead, the lad focused carefully on his task. By the time he was finished, without further incident, his own little sword was standing up, excitedly demanding attention. He wasn't fully aware of it until he stood up, and his nightshirt poked out at the front. He glanced down and his cheeks turned very red. He bunched the garment around his waist, trying to conceal the little tent, but perhaps he was only drawing more attention.

"What next, m'lord?" he asked softly, looking at his master's knees instead of his face, not wishing to see the evidence that his arousal had been noticed.

 

[haremfaery]

Sweet Jesu, that blush. Orson's smirk widened to a grin. It seemed Ambrose's prick liked him even if Ambrose didn't show it. Every hour seemed to bring him another lesson in denying his desires and turning from temptation.

He decided it was best to ignore Ambrose's erection. He stood and turned. "Buckle the backs of the hose. Then fetch me a shirt."

Orson thought of his plans for the day. After a pleasant afternoon at the theatre, then dinner at the Mermaid, and introducing Ambrose to his friends. he thought to make it an early night so he could woo Ambrose properly. Kisses in the carriage on the way back to his home. Gentle touches. Then carrying him to bed and teaching him all the joys he knew. If he could control himself until then.

 

[tamgreen]

Ambrose released a breath of sweet relief as his master turned, saving him from embarrassment. His fingers quickly went about the work of fastening the hose, and soon he had fetched a clean shirt to clothe his lord in, although, as with the braies, Orson truly did most of the work.

Next came the canions, which Orson also helped him with. Silence had settled over them as they worked together, each contemplating what their evening might hold. Ambrose was nervous he wouldn't understand the play, that he might show his ignorance and coarseness in front of a crowd of important people, that he might reflect badly upon his master, whose colours he would be wearing. What if someone spoke to him and he didn't know what to say, or blurted out something foolish? What if his cock decided to act up again at the most inconvenient time? What if he didn't know how to have fun like Orson, at his theatre and his tavern, and the man quickly grew bored with him?

He tried not to drive himself mad. At every point, the earl had been pleasant, generous, helpful, understanding, accepting, affectionate, and treated him with nothing but good humour and warmth. He had no reason to believe, even if he made all sorts of foolish mistakes, that his master would be upset or suddenly reject him. Perhaps it was that he could still be upset with himself, or the fact that there would be so many, many other sets of eyes on him. Judging. For all he knew, some of the same people who had cursed him, spat in his direction, or kicked dirt into his face on the streets back when he was a starving beggar, would be at this play tonight.

"Will you wear this, milord?" he asked softly, lifting the delicate ruff.

 

[haremfaery]

Orson sat down so Ambrose could attach the ruff. The lad's happy mood was now deflated. Orson frowned trying to think of a way to get back to the playful place they had been in.

Thomas entered carrying folded clothing in his arms with a hat on top. He put them on the bed and tsked as he looked at Orson and Ambrose. "My lord, you really should allow me to teach Ambrose how to dress you properly."

"There hasn't been time, Thomas. But now that Ambrose is feeling better and nearly off the laudanum, I think we can begin his training as Yeoman of the Chamber." He cocked his head at Ambrose, "What do you think about that, lad?"

Orson sat up straight and lengthened his neck so Thomas could show Ambrose how to place it and tie it in place. Orson smiled a bit as his two servants primped over him.

He stood and waited for Thomas to put the doublet on him. "Next, we'll dress Ambrose." Orson felt a rush anticipation for the day's activities. He looked forward to seeing Ambrose in his colors.

 

[tamgreen]

You really should allow me to teach Ambrose how to dress you properly.

The statement hit Ambrose like a punch to the gut. Humiliated, he dropped his head and pulled his hands back from his obviously clumsy attempts to dress his master, and for a few moments he felt completely invisible, or at least wished he were. He had to fight against the sting of tears and the harsh burn that assailed his throat, especially when Orson turned to address him.

"Yes, m'lord," he mumbled in a hoarse little voice, gulping back the searing lump in his throat. "Yes, please, I'd like to learn."

He chewed hard on his plump bottom lip and tried very hard not to allow his embarrassed cheeks to burn too brightly as Thomas stepped in to instruct him. His fingers just didn't seem to want to work the same way as Thomas's, and he was deeply afraid he'd prove to be the world's worst servant.

When the focus shifted to him and what he would wear, Ambrose could not hold back the redness in his cheeks. He looked about to burst into tears, or sink away right through the floor into nothing.

"M'lord... if it pleases you...," he breathed, twisting his hands anxiously.

 

[haremfaery]

Osron frowned. Ambrose seemed upset, embarrassed, or in pain. Possibly all three. Orson was on a hobbyhorse of emotions this day following Ambrose's ups and downs. He pushed his fingers through his hair and stepped to Ambrose. He took the lad's cold hands in his own warm ones.

"Ambrose, my dear lad." He kissed his knuckles. "What upsets you so? Have I pushed too much for this outing? Pushed too much to have you attend me? Are you still in pain?" He searched the lad's face. "Know that Thomas was raised wearing clothes like these. He began his training at a young age as well. I have no expectations that you learn these things over night." Orson squeezed his hands gently. "Lambkin, I never meant to upset you. Please forgive me."

 

[tamgreen]

Orson's words soothed the lad a great deal, and he smiled gratefully up at the man, his tense posture beginning to relax.

Lambkin... what a wonderfully sweet thing to be called.

"You haven't upset me - not a little," Ambrose assured him. "I'm the one who ought to beg forgiveness for being a silly child."

He blinked away the bleariness in his eyes, trying a brief little smile.

"It's only... I upset myself... failing at the simplest things. I wanted to be such a good servant to you... after all you done for me, and still do. I want to be useful. Please... I so very much want to attend you, if you think I may be worthy. Your patience with me seems without end, and I daren't presume anything."

His damp lashes fluttered as he continued to gaze up at his master.

"Thank you... for all of this. I do want to look handsome for you. I'll even look pretty if it please you. A little wine might help."

 

[haremfaery]

"Thomas will teach you. Your tutors will teach you. I will teach you. No one expects you to learn immediately. I see how eager you are to learn and to serve me. You'e be an excellent yeoman in time. Be gentle with yourself." Orson let go of Ambrose's hands. The lad became more endearing with each passing moment. He could not tell Ambrose that he truly had no care at all if the lad never learned to dress him properly.

"Thank you... for all of this. I do want to look handsome for you. I'll even look pretty if it please you. A little wine might help."

"Ambrose, I am sure you will become more handsome with each passing day. But know, when I call you pretty, 'tis not mocking. But I will use other words since 'pretty' does not please you." He stroked the lad's downy chin. "Despite your hard life, there is an honesty and innocence about you. Your feelings are writ upon your face: blushes, smiles, tears. I would not have you change for me." He paused and frowned a bit. "Why do you need wine to help you? What need have you of pot-valiance?"

 

[tamgreen]

More and more warmth, gratitude, and adoration filled Ambrose's small chest. What had he done to deserve being dropped into this household, into the lap of this extraordinary man? It was a gift beyond imagining.

"I should not have asked," he said softly, managing a small smile even as he looked humbled. "It's only... I've found it so much easier to smile and relax... when you've been generous with the cups. God forbid I turn drunkard. I only want to enjoy myself... so that you'll enjoy... me."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing his small fists to unclench. "I will try to relax, all on my own. I will. And... so you know... perhaps 'pretty' could please me, now I know t'isn't to mock me. If I were pretty, and it pleased you, I should find it the greatest thing on earth to be so."