An Earl's Desire

Orson made a sound between a groan and a growl. Had anyone ever "savored" hi before? He thought not. "I like everything you do. But more of that is good." He groaned again and settled back in to the pillows. "I am at your complete mercy, Ambrose."
 
Ambrose lowered himself down also, curling up on his side to give his sore bottom a rest. He settled at Orson's hip, reclined on one elbow to leave his other arm free for touching. He stared intently at his master's impressive cock, quite in awe of its size and shape. He inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in the man's rich, subtly perfumed scent.

His hand wrapped more firmly around the exquisite shaft and stroked steadily, unintentionally giving the earl's jewels a look of greedy hunger, not unlike how he would gaze at a plate of buttered bread.

The lad's blue eyes widened when he saw a clear bead of moisture form at the slit. He watched it grow and threaten to drip down, thick and syrupy. His mouth filled with saliva. He ran his hand all the way up and swiped his thumb across that clear liquid, gathering it to bring it toward his lips. He popped the tip of his thumb into his mouth, finally shifting his eyes back to Orson's.

"Hmm," he sighed happily.
 
Orson groaned and put his hand on Ambrose's head running his fingers through the curls. "Sweet Jesu, I have made you a wanton." He smiled down at his ingle. He would never have guessed that the lad would take to his new position (Orson's smile widened at his pun) so readily. Yes, indeed, he must send a gift to Belle. Whatever she had said had done the trick, no need for Will's advice or sonnets.

His cock twitched in anticipation of what Ambrose might do next. His days and weeks of longing and wanting were over, yet the more he had of Ambrose, the more he wanted.
 
Ambrose returned his smile, enjoying the affection. His tousled blonde curls settled over his forehead, slightly damp from the efforts of their coupling.

"Are you pleased with the results of your efforts?" he teased in response, leaning down again to get a closer look at the magnificent cock before him.

After a pause just long enough to make Orson shiver, he drew up his lips and gently kissed the wet slit. When he raised his head a little ways, the two men remained connected for a few moments by a glistening crystalline strand.

Ambrose licked his lips and this time didn't bother pausing to build anticipation before diving down again, lips parted. He took the head of his master's cock into his mouth and suckled, swirling his tongue around to catch any hints of salty-sweetness he could get.
 
"Very pleased," Orson said. His voice was husky with lust.

He had been with men and women before who liked to tease, to play the coquette, but Ambrose, by Jove, he came by it all so naturally. That or he was the most accomplished prick peddler he ever met to play the innocent so well.

But it could not be. Ambrose's every thought and emotion played out on his face. Everything sincerely delighted the lad, or so it seemed.

All doubts flew from Orson's mind when Ambrose finally took his cock between his rose petal lips and sucked.

"Was Zeus happier with his Ganymede than I am with you? Never." She moaned again. His hips moved involuntarily.
 
Ambrose was pleased with the reaction he got from his master. He repeated the actions that seemed to have the best effect. Belatedly, he remembered the shaft and started stroking again while he sucked at the tip. He wanted to do this right, but he'd forgotten most of the particulars of what Orson had done to him during their ride back from the theatre.

After an extended round of suckling and contented slurping, Ambrose lifted his head, panting, to let himself catch his breath and give his lips a brief reprieve from this unaccustomed labour.

"Tell me of Zeus and Ganymede," he begged sweetly before leaning down to resume his work.
 
Orson breathed out raggedly. "You wish me to tell you a stoy? Now? A man would have to have a will as strong as Hercules." He buried his fingers in Ambrose's hair.

"I will try to tell you the story ... Zeus was the king of the gods. He was married to Hera, his queen, but he had a wandering eye. He was drawn to beauty and bedded many women. But this is not a story about any of them." Orson groaned when Ambrose cupped his balls.

"One day while Zeus was looking down at the mortal world from his castle on Mount Olympus. He spied the most beautiful youth he had ever seen tending sheep on a hillside. The youth had golden curls and eyes the color of Love-in-A-Mist. Zeus could think of nothing else. He tried to distract himself with other mortals, but it was no use. The youth's beautiful face was always in his thoughts." He groaned again as Ambrose's mouth sweetly tortured him.

"Zeus turned himself into a golden eagle so he could get closer to the youth, whose name he discovered was Ganymede. Zeus watched him day and night until one day he could control his desire no longer. Still in his guise as an eagle, he swept up the youth and carried him all the way to Mount Olym---Sweet Jesu, Ambrose." He tightened his grip on the lad's hair. "You'll make me spend before my story is done."
 
Ambrose kissed and licked all around his master's cock and balls, letting his free hand roam all around to explore as Orson told his tale. He smiled when his mouth wasn't busy, amused by the myth, and especially so when he spoke of the god's instant infatuation with the golden-haired boy.

He chuckled at Orson's last statement and released the man's cock for a few moments to remark cheekily, "Is that so terrible a thing? There will be time enough for stories... and for spending."

He released a happy growl as the earl tugged on his hair and guided his head back down.
 
There was something delicious about trying to hold back while telling the story to Ambrose.

Orson continued, "Zeus flew Ganymede all the way to Mount Olympus," Orson continued in a husky voice. "Everyone adored the beautiful youth, but none so much as Zeus himself. He fed the youth the choicest morsels with his own hand. But the youth wished to serve his master and so became the cupbearer to Z--," he paused to groan. "I can wait no longer." He held Ambrose's head and thrust hard a few times. It was a glorious release." Orson fell back on the pillows. 'Sblood! Ambrose."
 
Ambrose did his utmost to keep his lips in place as Orson thrust into him. His mouth filled with his master's hot seed. His eyes widened with surprise, even though he'd known what was coming. The taste of it was something he couldn't quite comprehend, and he held it all within his mouth as the earl finally relaxed.

Keeping his lips sealed shut, he slowly pulled off and raised his head, settling down to drape himself across Orson. He stared into his master's eyes, bewildered but gratified, looking for some direction as to whether or not he should swallow.
 
Orson had to chuckle at Ambrose and the way his cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel's. "Lambkin, swallow or spit. But if you must spit, use a cloth or a cup. Myself, I prefer to swallow the essence of my lover. But not all do. I will take no insult if you do not like the taste. 'Tis neither buttery, nor sweet." He grinned knowing Ambrose's favorite foods tasted nothing like a man's seed. "Or kiss me and I will swallow it."
 
I prefer to swallow the essence of my lover.

Ambrose was now picturing Orson kneeling before other men, sucking them dry. He felt both jealous and excited at once. Just how many cocks had the Earl of Camberwick sucked?

Not wanting to shrink from a challenge, anxious as he was to excel at his new profession, he swallowed, keeping his eyes locked on his lover's. However, he saved some in his mouth and parted his lips as he went in for a kiss, pressing his tongue against Orson's to share the small treasure with him.

After a long, sloppy kiss, he lifted his head to gaze into Orson's eyes.

"Do you suppose Ganymede swallowed the essence of Zeus?"
 
Orson enjoyed tasting himself on Ambrouse's tongue.

"Who would not want to drink the nectar of a god?" Orson asked. "I am sure that Zeus and Ganymede enjoyed each other in very many ways. Zeus loved his cupbearer so much that when he died, he cast him among the stars to live there forever." He stroked Ambrose's hair.

"Shall we sleep? Or do you want more?"
 
"Mmmmm," Ambrose sighed, arching like an affectionate cat and nuzzling into Orson's stroking hand. "I'm certain I have drunk the nectar of a god."

He smiled and leaned down for a few more slow, tender kisses, taking his time tasting his master's soft lips before settling down, rolling over to face away from the earl so the larger man could spoon him.

"Sleep," he murmured happily, using Orson's bicep for a pillow. He felt the man's arm encircle him and hugged it close to his body.

Instead of letting himself drift off, Ambrose thought over the evening's events and wondered what the future would hold. After several slow breaths, he spoke up in a low whisper: "What about Zeus's wife? Was she very sad that he wanted a boy instead?"
 
"One more story efore we sleep." Orson answered. "Zeus's wife, Hera, was very jealous and Zeus gave her every reason to be. He seduced and fucked all manner of female mortals, nymphs and other goddesses. One tale says that Hera made him promise not to fuck any more women. Then Zeus saw the beautiful Ganymede and decided he could keep his promise and still take a lover. Tomorrow, I can tell you other tales of Gods and mortals. Of how the hyacinth flower came to be."
 
Ambrose listened in silence. He knew he was supposed to be thinking of the torrid love affair between the god and the mortal boy, but instead his mind fixated on Hera. It was easier to take if Hera were a terrible shrew and the villain of every story, but Ambrose had the vague sense she wasn't necessarily supposed to be the villain. Why wouldn't it be perfectly reasonable for her to object to her husband bedding every attractive creature he spotted?

What happened when Orson got a wife? Surely he would, at some point. Lords had ladies - that was how things worked. And they had children to carry on their titles and their properties. Could Ambrose still sleep at night when he was the pretty thing distracting a husband away from his jealous wife? He didn't want to be cast into the stars, where it would be cold and lonely. He wanted to be right here, in his lover's warm arms.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he snuggled more firmly back against Orson, willing himself to stop worrying about what he could not control, or over possibilities he could not be sure would come to pass.

"Good night... my sweet master."
 
The next few days were spent in Orson's bedchamber, and mostly in his bed. Thomas and the other servants came and went like ghosts. Eating, sleeping, and all manner of lovemaking were occasionally paused while Orson read to Ambrose or told him stories of mythic or famous lovers.


One morning, Thomas delivered an invitation. The queen wished the Lord of Camberwick to attend her Twelfth Night festivities that included a performance of Master Shakespeare's new play written for the occasion.

"Would you like to see another play?" Orson smiled. "Would you like to see the queen?"
 
"Is it Christmas already?" Ambrose exclaimed, lounging naked on his front in the middle of the bed. He placed his chin upon his hands and bent his knees, swinging his feet playfully back and forth in the air above him.

"I can hardly wait to see another play! Will the queen really be there?"

Both excited and anxious, Ambrose pushed himself up until he perched on his knees. "Do you mean, see her, or... meet her? Surely I couldn't be that close to a queen...?"
 
"'Tis the queen's special celebration. There will be the play, and dinners, and a ball. I have quite forgotten about your lessons. I should have taught you a few dances by now." He smiled at how comfortable Ambrose was in his nakedness.

Orson sat on the bed. "You will surely see the Queen. It may be possible for me to make an introduction. If it is in my power, I will see that you meet the queen. I will give you lessons on court etiquette. And tomorrow, you will see the queen." He pushed Ambrose down on the bed and placed love bits along his neck. "But first ..."

~~~~

Orson spent the afternoon teaching Ambrose how to bow properly, to speak only when spoken to, and anything else he could think of.
 
Ambrose was back to being nervous and unsure of himself. He'd gotten accustomed to his relationship with the earl, but the queen? There was no one in the world more important, as far as the lad knew, and only months ago he had been the lowest of the low. He was sure Orson didn't need to instruct him not to speak unless spoken to - he wasn't sure if he would be able to speak even when directly addressed.

He practiced his bows in front of the mirror several times, and then looked behind him to meet his master's gaze.

"What is a ball like?" he wondered. "I suppose you will have to dance with ladies. Surely we could not be... as we are... in front of the queen...?"
 
Orson smiled faintly watching Ambrose practice his bows. The lad was more graceful than one would expect given his origins.

"Everyone wears fine clothing. There is food and drink. People wander about talking to each other. Catching up on the latest gossip. There are musicians, of course, and yes dancing."

Orson moved to stand behind Ambrose. "Sadly, at the queen's ball we will not be able to dance with each other. However, there will be other fetes. Private fetes. With some of the people you met after the play. We will be able to dance to our heart's content." He wrapped his arms around Ambrose from behind and kissed the side of his neck.
 
Ambrose tilted his head aside to invite the kiss, grinning and shivering with delight. "You're the only one I want to dance with," he whispered, "but I will behave myself for the queen. I promise."

He squirmed around in Orson's arms in order to face his master, wanting to be chest-to-chest. "I suppose I would be nervous to dance with you in front of people anyway. I don't even know where I found the gall to sit upon your lap during that card game. Half of me seems to want to stay alone with you forever, and the other half wants to show off to the whole world. Is not that silly?"
 
"I'm sure you will behave. If not, I shall have to turn this sweet bottom of yours rosy red." Orson playfully slapped said sweet bottom to show he wasn't serious.

"'Tisn't silly for I feel the same way." He stroked Ambrose's hair and hugged the lad close. "At the private fete will we be able to do as we will." Orson smiled again and kissed him softly at first, then with more passion. Sweet Jesu, he could stay alone with Ambrose forever.
 
Ambrose blushed and giggled at the light spanking. He opened his mouth to the kiss and let his master devour him.

"Shall I misbehave a little at this 'private fete'?" he whispered seductively when the kiss slowed. "Surely you would not redden my bottom in front of your fellows...?"
 
Orson smirked, there was glint in his eye. "Try me, lambkin. And my fellows will cheer me on." He rubbed his hand over Ambrose's soft bottom and squeezed it. Then he swatted it harder. "Do you like that idea? Of being spanked? Of people watching you?" He swatted him again. "Do you want me to redden that luscious arse right now?"

Orson's hard cock pressed against Ambrose's stomach.
 
Back
Top