His Lordship's Secret

by Samantha SoRelle

  ✽✽✽

  Alfie was restless and distracted all evening. He tried to read, but never got more than a few pages in before he found himself staring out the window, wondering when the next attack would happen and if Dominick would be able to save him when it did. Had Dominick made it back to his lodgings safely? How could he bear to live in such an awful place? Had he built all that muscle intentionally for fighting, or was it merely a byproduct of a life of hard labor? Had his smile always been so dashing?

  He shook his head. Those were not the sorts of thoughts he should be entertaining. Dominick was not some anonymous gentleman who Alfie met at a discreet club where they could disappear into a backroom for a time, then never see each other again. He knew Dominick, or at least, had known him, and he was enjoying renewing that friendship.

  And that was all it would be, a friendship. He remembered all too well the look of disgust on Dominick's face in that alley when he’d assumed that Alfie had wanted to buy his services. He couldn’t bear to see such a look from him again.

  Alfie threw his book down in revulsion. His own encounters with men may have been brief, dispassionate affairs, but both parties had always enjoyed themselves and gone away satisfied. That desperation had forced Dominick into such acts when he clearly abhorred them made the gorge rise in his throat.

  An image rose in his mind of Dominick as he had first seen him, bleeding and exhausted, being happened upon by some unscrupulous man with coin to spare. The type who didn’t care if his partner was unwilling.

  Would Dominick drop to his knees there in the alley? Or would he turn, raising an arm as high as his injured ribs would allow, to brace against a wall, wincing while his other hand painfully loosened his trousers enough that—

  Alfie jumped to his feet, momentarily dizzy as the pain from his wound mixed with the feeling that such an image provoked in him. Wine. That was what he needed. Something to numb the senses.

  He strode over to the sideboard, crossing his study in quick, angry strides. There was a new bottle amongst his usual decanters. Mrs. Hirkins must have brought up the gift Reginald had left him. He read the label. Port. Excellent, the evening called for something fortified. His cousin might be a mean, conniving, uncouth lout who was potentially trying to have Alfie blackmailed and killed, but at least he was generous with his intoxicants.

  He picked the bottle up and was searching for a corkscrew when another thought occurred to him. Immediately upon seeing Alfie, Dominick had assumed—and not incorrectly—that Alfie was the sort who took pleasure in other men. Reginald had been making sly comments that fell just short of insinuating the same thing for years. Naturally Alfie was cautious in his manner and made all the appropriate noises in conversation about the fairer sex, his life depended on it. But clearly there was something about him that gave away his unnatural desires. What if his attacker had seen it too?

  One only had to pick up a newspaper or set foot in a church to know that there were plenty who would be happy to save the courts a trial and the hangman a rope. Perhaps he had caught the eye of one of these vigilantes, intent on cleansing the world of immoral men.

  I know what you are.

  That could apply just as much to being a sodomite as to being an imposter. He would have to discuss it with Dominick and see what he thought.

  And what a fun conversation that would be.

  I say, Dominick, it’s entirely possible someone isn’t trying to kill me for being an imposter lord, but for being buggerer instead! Isn’t that better? Quite the weight off my shoulders. What’s that? Indeed! Those acts you find utterly repugnant, I rather enjoy them. You know, we have some time before Mrs. Hirkins comes back to collect the breakfast service, would you care to…? Why yes, bent over the table would be just fine.

  He set down the port with a heavy thud and picked up the decanter of scotch instead. Much stronger. He wasn’t going to need a glass.

  ✽✽✽

  Alfie lay in bed that night, lulled into a soft haze by the effects of the drink. Well, drinks. A noticeable amount of the decanter really. His thoughts were still running in circles but at a much more leisurely pace and he found he didn’t mind at all now when they invariably came back around to Dominick. He was so much more pleasant to think about than the rest of this mess.

  He shifted to bury himself more deeply in the many feather pillows, nestling down into them with a happy sigh. The linen of his nightclothes skimmed pleasantly across his skin and ignited the ember that had been glowing steadily all day. It had flickered to life when he had first gotten into the carriage in the morning and realised he’d be completely alone with Dominick in the dim, intimate compartment, and had grown hotter with each moment spent in his company. Even so long after Dominick had left, it was still burning him from the inside out.

  He groaned. This was exactly why he had picked up the scotch in the first place, to drown these feelings out.

  What harm could it do? a voice inside him asked. You’re going to be seeing him every day until this is solved. There’s no reason to torture yourself with denial. After all, it’s not like he’s here.

  Alfie wavered, his hands picking at the quilting of his heavy bedspread. If Dominick was here in his bedroom though…

  His composure broke and he groaned aloud at the thought. His hands flew under the covers, rucking his nightshirt up under his armpits. He hissed as his hand, chilled from the night air, wrapped around his prick. He felt like he’d been half hard all day, and the cool touch was as much a balm as it was a shock to his tender skin.

  What if Dominick really was here? What if he was leaning against the wardrobe with that brash smirk on his face watching Alfie touch himself?

  He closed his eyes. In his fantasy it was warm enough that he had the covers thrown down, and lay atop the sheets, completely naked and bared to Dominick's eyes.

  His cock twitched at the thought. Dominick would be fully dressed in quality clothing, boots, coat and all. His arms would be crossed over his chest, emphasizing the span of his shoulders and the solid bulk of him hidden from Alfie's view. He’d look happy but a little bored. Indulgent. Yes, that was it. He was indulging Alfie.

  His hand, now warmed, began to work faster, the slight burn of the dry skin only heating him further.

  “Ah, ah now, why the rush, sweetheart?” Dominick would say, merriment dancing in his eyes, before they darkened and his voice dropped to a gravel command. “Hands off.”

  With effort, Alfie pulled his hands away, twisting them tightly in the sheets to resist the urge to touch.

  “That’s better. Now go slowly, I want to see all of you.”

  Alfie's legs spread wider of their own volition, and he could see the satisfaction writ across Dominick's face. There was no shame to be had in this fantasy, only pleasure. He placed his hands on his hips before sliding them down to caress his inner thighs.

  “Look at you, all spread out for me. You look so fine, Alfie. So fine. Is that where you want me to touch you?”

  Alfie nodded, eyes still closed. He pinched hard right where the skin was most tender, and let out a cry.

  Distantly, he was glad Mrs. Hirkins went back to her own home in the evenings and he had no night staff. He was free to be as loud as he wanted with no one to raise any awkward questions.

  Dominick clucked his tongue. “The noises you make. Make more noise for me. Where else feels good?”

  Alfie ran his hands up his torso slowly, wriggling a bit as one passed over his navel. He spent a minute running a finger around the edge, and dipping it in, less for his own pleasure than for the look it got him.

  “Tease,” Dominick growled. Alfie hummed and moved his hand higher. He hissed as the movement pulled at the stitches in his injured arm. He left that hand slowly stroking the soft skin of his belly as his right went higher, brushing first over one nipple, then the other. Alfie was fully hard and leaking copiously by now, drops of liquid dripping down onto the back of his left hand. But instead of giving in to relie
f he continued to tease himself for the benefit of his imagined lover.

  He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him as he scraped his thumbnail over the bud of a nipple. He continued to torment it, pinching it hard and rolling it between his fingers, until the slightest touch sent shivers of pleasure mixed with pain rippling through his entire body before pooling in his groin. When he thought he could take no more, he moved his hand over to the other nipple and repeated the same rough treatment.

  “Imagining they’re my hands? Got a good feel for them last night, did we? But maybe not as good as you wanted. That’s what you’re thinking about right now. How rough they are. How the burrs would catch and scrape. I bet you’ve only had soft little noblemen’s hands on you. You can’t even envision how much better mine would feel.”

  Alfie sobbed, the sensations, the words, the heat he imagined in Dominick's gaze as he calmly lounged there, as at ease as the master in his own castle, watching as Alfie writhed wantonly before him.

  “Please,” Alfie whispered aloud. “Please, Dominick, let me…” His words cut off in a groan. He ran a hand over his sensitive collarbones, then up over his lip, nipping at the pads of his fingers, before sucking them wetly into his mouth.

  “More,” Dominick said lazily.

  Alfie's cock jerked at the command and he complied, licking his palm thoroughly and running his tongue over each finger, twisting between them and lapping at the knuckles. He tried to bring his left hand up as well, but could barely crane his neck enough to sample the very ends of his fingertips, sighing at his own taste that had collected there, salty and bitter.

  “Do it, then.”

  Alfie didn’t have to wait to be told, his right hand flying down to grip his cock firmly, the wet slide of spit and precome a sensual relief.

  “And the other one.”

  Alfie reached down with his other hand between his legs and rubbed his fingertips gently around the pucker of his opening. He couldn’t bring himself to stop long enough to find the oil he used for such a treat, so he didn’t go any further in, but even just that light touch was enough to leave him panting. He imagined how he would look to Dominick.

  Warmth rose in his cheeks and spread downwards. If he looked in a mirror, he knew his face and chest would be flushed red, but he felt no embarrassment, only a wild joy at appearing this way in front of someone he could fully trust with his body, his secrets, and his life.

  He cried out, hips jerking off the bed. By this point, Dominick wouldn’t be able to stay away. He’d come over to him, the heat in his eyes an inferno that threatened—promised—to burn Alfie alive. He’d sit on the edge of the bed mere inches from Alfie's side.

  He ran his thumb down the delicate vein along the underside of his shaft, then twisted his hand as he stroked upwards. So close. Dominick would sit so close to him that Alfie would feel the warmth of his body. But it wasn’t enough. With his other hand, Alfie pressed more firmly against his entrance, but still it just wasn’t enough. Maybe if Dominick would touch him.

  Suddenly, Alfie remembered the way Dominick had grasped his wrist that morning. How strong and unrelenting his grip had been, and how Alfie could feel the heat from his palm through his sleeve.

  His back arched as he came with a choked off howl. He kept his hand moving, imagining that Dominick was making him do it, holding onto his wrist and moving his hand back and forth, milking every last drop from him. Spend flew over his chest, a few drops even landing on his abused nipples. He shuddered, and his cock twitched again, sending more come over his hand and dripping down his wrist.

  It would be all over Dominick's hand, he thought, breath hitching at the very idea.

  He kept stroking until he was well past sensitive. He rolled his hips as the ecstasy of his release slowly began to transform into something heavier.

  “That’s it, gorgeous. Well done,” Dominick would say, his hand finally stilling but staying wrapped around Alfie's wrist.

  Alfie lay there, catching his breath, content to bask in the afterglow. He took a moment to imagine what might come next.

  Dominick would get into bed with him, laughing as Alfie's tired fingers fumbled with his buttons. He’d take Alfie's hands then, and kiss the palms of both, not minding the taste of Alfie's spend in the slightest. He’d then strip, and lovingly prepare Alfie before taking him. He would melt into the mattress as Dominick's body moved powerfully over his own.

  When he reached his climax the second time, it would like the rolling of a wave crashing over the shore—unavoidable, unstoppable. When Dominick came, he would drop down over him, kissing Alfie and wrapping him in his arms, Dominick surrounding him completely as he filled him from within.

  Alfie took one more second to imagine that perfect moment, his lips tingling with the feel of Dominick's phantom kiss.

  When he opened his eyes, his bedroom was cold and empty once again.

  With a sigh, he sat up enough to get his nightshirt off, although not without difficulty. He wiped himself down with it as best he could. The few steps to the wash basin seemed as distant and impossible as crossing the Himalayas even though he was sure in the morning he would regret not cleaning up more fully. He kicked the nightshirt to the bottom of the bed and hoped it got tangled enough to not be noticed in the pile of bedclothes until after the laundress finished with them.

  In the morning.

  In the morning he would have to face Dominick over the breakfast table. He’d have to make idle talk and figure out the next steps in their plan all with the knowledge that he’d brought himself to climax the night before just from the memory of Dominick's hand on him. Under no circumstances could he let such thoughts show if he wanted to keep their tentative friendship. Maybe it would even be safer to pull back further and keep their interactions strictly as bodyguard and employer until they caught Alfie's attacker.

  And after that…

  And after that nothing, he told himself forcefully.

  “After that” wouldn’t change Dominick's inclinations in any way. “After that” would only mean that Alfie no longer had an excuse to keep Dominick in his employ. He hardly needed to hire a bodyguard to keep away the matchmaking mamas at balls, or ensure that no one in this theatre box attempted conversation in the middle of a play.

  You could hire him for other things, said something deep and dark. Just because he’s not inclined that way doesn’t mean he wouldn’t take your money for it. He’s already said as much. A crown, wasn’t it? And you have so very, very many crowns to spare.

  “No.” Alfie said aloud to the darkened room. He would not be that sort of man. It didn’t matter if that was the only way he could ever actually have Dominick. Alfie would rather never have Dominick in his bed at all than have him be indifferent, or god forbid, unwilling. The very idea was abhorrent and against every moral Alfie held dear. Most of those morals being ones Dominick had taught him himself.

  No, after they discovered who was plotting against him and had the villain firmly behind bars, Alfie would thank Dominick for his help, pay him a generous bonus, and then let him go. If Dominick asked, Alfie could help find him some employment. One of Alfie's many estates must surely be in need of an overseer of some sort. Or if Dominick wanted to stay in London, Alfie could ask around at his clubs. Someone was bound to be in need of a man who was strong, smart, loyal, funny, compassionate... and many other desirable qualities in a worker as well.

  Perhaps they could even see each other now and then. They could take in a show, or even get that luncheon that Alfie had been too afraid to attempt today.

  To have Dominick back in his life, to have his friendship, was more than Alfie had ever dreamed possible. He wouldn’t waste his sighs on wishing for a lover. He had never had a real one of those before anyway, just his fleeting encounters, so at least he didn’t really know what he was missing. No, instead of pining for something that couldn’t be, he would rejoice in having his friend.

  He relaxed into the pillows, contented until he rememb
ered the reactions of the shopkeepers upon seeing Dominick with him.

  Hell. They’d never be accepted in public together. A lord and an illicit boxer? A friendship between them was just as out of reach as a romance. The stationers had proved that today. There was no place at all in the city where a man dressed in superfine could be seen with another dressed in rags. Anywhere Alfie took Dominick, he’d be sneered at, and anywhere Dominick took Alfie, he’d be a mark for every cutpurse and throatslitter in the rookeries. Alfie might have been from the slums, but he no longer belonged there. There was no way he could ever pass in that world.

  Although…

  He pulled the covers higher over his bare shoulders as a truly marvelous idea came to him. Dominick would probably hate it at first, stubborn, proud creature that he was. But the more Alfie thought about it, the more it seemed like a brilliant solution to all of their problems. Well, perhaps not all of them, they did have quite a few after all. But several at least.

  With that thought in mind, Alfie fell asleep grinning, eagerly awaiting the morning and Dominick's return.

  Chapter 12

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hirkins.” Dominick nodded as his repeated knocking on the kitchen door was finally answered. He waited for her to step aside and let him in, but she remained rooted in the doorway.

  “You’re back.”

  “I am indeed.” Dominick smiled sunnily at her, but his charm seemed to have no effect. He tried his next weapon in his arsenal: flattery. “I look forward to working in the lovely home you’ve maintained here, and may I thank you again for the arnica salve? I’m sure I’ll be fit to shine everyone else down in no time.”

  “Hmm.”

  She didn’t budge.