This is my first submission to this site. I hope you'll all enjoy it.
Xxxxxx
*
"Marcel! Slow down, curse you! Marcel!"
Lord Valmont laughed merrily. His friend was somewhere behind him, unwilling to ride at the same gruelling pace. There was something hot and fierce in galloping a horse at such dangerous speeds. It was exhilarating and, in all respects, unbearably stupid. He was, however, running swiftly out of open country and the tree line was looming inescapably close.
Slowing the horse to a cantering trot, Marcel reined back for a wide turn and began to canter back the way he'd come. Francis Montreaux bore down on him, his expression piqued. "God in heaven! Are you trying to kill that horse?"
Marcel flashed his friend a bright smile. He had dark eyes and his chestnut curls were forever trying to escape the ribbon binding his hair. Francis was beautiful; a blue eyed golden blonde. Marcel had long ago given up hope that his friend would ever return the infatuation he felt. "Perhaps I am. Well come on then. For you I will slow my horse to a civilized gait."
"How obliging of you, my Lord." Francis responded dryly.
Marcel merely laughed, cantering back towards the villa, his friend in tow. "Indeed. I'm often quite obliging when it comes to you."
Francis turned suspicious blue eyes on his dusky friend. "Oh? What do you want Marcel?"
"Me? Why nothing, today." His dark eyes sparkled as he smirked at his friend. "However, I will be taking a much needed sabbatical from the courtly life to visit Anna. I haven't seen her or my darling niece in six months or more."
"God, Marcel. Who was it this time?"
"I don't know what you mean, my lord."
Francis only snorted. "Marcel, despite your sister's pleasant disposition and forgiving nature, you are a creature of the court, a gentleman of refinement and a lover of far too many. The only reason you would travel out there is to avoid the gossips until they all have something more juicy to go on about. So who is he? A footman? Someone's butler? Perhaps the son of a prominent tailor or one of your valets? Or, God forbid, an ill advised love affair with some other aristocrat?"
Francis raised an elegant eyebrow at him while Lord Valmont pouted on his horse. "Alright, Francis. It's Beauxfort's youngest son."
"Beauxfort? Are you mad? God, Marcel, how did that happen?"
"Well, I was at Bellisand's party and the two of us had far too much wine, I suppose. Anyhow, he woke in my arms upset and outraged."
"I can't imagine why."
"Go to hell."
"So what happened then?"
"He went to his father and screamed bloody murder."
"Ah. So then the esteemed Marquis du Beauxfort approached your father?"
"Damn it, Francis. He told me to visit my sister. He doesn't want to see my miserable face anywhere near the court for the next year if I know what's good for me." He sighed in a dejected manner. "I'll have nothing more exciting to look at but cows and filthy stable boys."
"It's your own fault you know."
Valmont continued to pout as they rode but he said nothing.
"So other than the pleasure it gives me to tell you what an idiot you are, what does this have to do with me?"
Marcel turned large brown eyes on his friend. "Francis, I can't endure the torture of Anna's small provincial villa alone. I'll expire from boredom in mere weeks."
Francis gave the other man an incredulous look. "I'm not going with you, Marcel."
"Anna would be so pleased to see you, Francis, and my niece adores you."
Lord Montreaux snorted. "I can just hear the gossip now. 'Did you hear? Valmont's in disgrace again and this time for debauching the Marquis's son. No! Yes! Now Valmont and Montreaux have retired to Perigueux! They went together? They certainly did!' No thank you." Francis gave Marcel a scathing look. "Why should I join you in your current disgrace, Marcel?"
"Please, Francis, just travel out there with me. It's a bloody long way and carriages can be so tedious after the first two miles."
"Not a chance."
"It isn't fair, you know. If this was some serving maid or ambassador's daughter, I doubt my father would care who I was fucking."
Francis laughed merrily. "No servant's daughter will ever be asked to give her questionable virtue to you, Valmont." They both smiled and Francis sighed dramatically. "In a month I can invent some excuse to leave Paris that has nothing to do with you."
"So you'll come then?"
"Yes, Marcel. I'll come to visit you in exile." He pointed his finger at his friend. "I'm not travelling with you and I'll only be able to stay for six weeks or so."
Marcel du Valmont smiled softly. "Thank you, Francis."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He'd rarely been so terribly bored. Marcel had been travelling for four endless days with only one valet for company. The other man kept his eyes lowered and spoke only if addressed directly. Marcel had never seriously considered the thin and taciturn young man as a lover. However, he'd seen nothing but Joseph's absurdly sober expression for mile after dreary mile. He had to admit that his attendant was starting to look good to him.
The carriage lurched to a stop and Valmont parted the curtain in curiosity. "Another inn? God in heaven, aren't we there yet?"
Joseph rose wordlessly and held the door open for his lord. After Marcel stepped down from the carriage, his valet held the door for the inn as well.
The dining room was small but well lit and the food wasn't bad at all. Throughout the meal, Marcel was distracted by his attendant. The man stepped forward to refill his glass with wine and the young lord's eyes lingered on Joseph's long and slender fingers. Marcel allowed his gaze to travel up that arm towards the unsmiling face. Their eyes met for a moment before his servant looked away. There was the slightest blush of pink in those pale cheeks. The gentle curving of Marcel's mouth hinted at the smile he kept hidden.
Normally when a meal had ended, Marcel would retire to the library if there was one and Joseph would take his own supper in the kitchens. When it was time for bed, Lord Valmont's attendant would undress him and put him to bed. This had been the routine in his life for as long as Marcel could remember no matter who his personal valet actually was.
This evening, he'd decided to vary his usual routine. Marcel stared absently out the windows of the country inn. He watched the last rays of sunlight disappear from the heavens before summoning his servant. His valet appeared with a lantern already lit.
"I'll be retiring early, Joseph. Show me to my room please."
If the other man felt any surprise, he hid it well. "This way, my lord."
Marcel followed him up the narrow staircase, admiring the slender lines of his body. When the other man turned down his bedding, the young Parisian lord could feel his excitement rise. Perhaps his sojourn in the provinces would hold some interest after all. He smirked as Joseph began to undress him. His valet's touch was impersonal and efficient. As the dark haired servant began to unbuckle his belt, Marcel reached out and grasped his wrists firmly. The other man's head shot up in alarm, his dark eyes widening in surprise.
"My Lord?"
Marcel tugged on those delicate wrists firmly, pulling the other man into his embrace. Joseph was trembling slightly and a pink blush of colour was deepening in his valet's sallow cheeks. He pressed his lips against Joseph's, forcing his tongue into the other man's mouth. His small and desperate whimper only increased Marcel's lust and he began backing his valet toward the bed.
Breaking the kiss, Marcel licked his way down Joseph's jaw and throat, pushing him roughly onto his back. "Relax. I won't hurt you." He began undressing the taciturn man beneath him with practised hands.
"My lord, please. I'm only a servant."
Marcel looked into the other man's dark and frightened eyes. "Ah, yes. You are a servant. My servant in fact. Your position is quite lucrative and enviable to those who serve above stairs. Don't you agree?" The slender man merely bit his lip and nodded. Marcel pushed the shirt and vest off Joseph's shoulders. "You are quite pretty without clothes, monsieur. I never would have guessed." Valmont then stripped his valet completely and stood up. His britches were still partly opened and the evidence of his excitement bulged within the confines of his satin trousers. "You may finish undressing me."
The other man averted his eyes and knelt, naked before his lord. "Yes, sir." Those long and beautiful hands removed each of his shoes with tender care. Next came the trousers and the hose beneath them. Joseph kept his eyes lowered and his head bowed adorably throughout these ministrations.