Southampton Swindle

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  Nathanial first took his own cock in hand and spread the oil along it. Just watching him stroke himself was arousing and Sebastian swallowed.

  Then Nathanial stroked Sebastian’s flesh below his balls, sliding his slick fingers into his rear. Sebastian caught his breath, surprised at how pleasurable his touch was. His body clenched in anticipation as Nathanial’s fingers pressed and retreated, then again, his knuckles spreading him open. Nathanial was preparing him, Sebastian realized. Such consideration had been missing in the past, when he had been taken by his masters.

  Sebastian relaxed, his trust in Nathanial complete, his body tight with the tension that came from pleasure, not pain.

  Nathanial held Sebastian’s knees apart and press his oiled cock up against him. He glanced at him. “Ready?”

  “Very.”

  Nathanial pushed inside him, and as he had promised, there was no pain. Sebastian held his breath, marveling at the delight that seemed to build from deep in his belly. This was glorious!

  Nathanial slid inside, only halting when he was fully lodged within. Sebastian could barely control himself – his breath was shuddering in and out and his hips giving small, involuntary thrusts. “Christ above,” Sebastian muttered, his fingers digging into the mattress.

  Nathanial merely smiled. His eyes were half-closed, the brilliant blue almost hidden. He wrapped his hand around Sebastian’s cock, the hand that was coated in oil, and began to stroke. At the same time, he thrust with his own.

  Sebastian closed his eyes, trying to halt the swiftly building explosion of pleasure. He wanted these sensations to last. But he was powerless to prevent the coming release. It swept him up in the sparkling, breath-snatching current, pulling him along.

  With a cry that sounded hoarse, he came in a hot rush, as Nathanial’s hand squeezed and stroked. It was an astounding feeling, stealing his thoughts and holding him still for what felt like endless heart beats.

  Nathanial thrust harder and faster, his own climax upon him. His jaw flexed and he groaned as he came, leaning over Sebastian to prop himself upon the bed.

  For long minutes they remained there, as Sebastian listened to his frantic heartbeat slow. “That was….” He could not think of a superlative that would adequately describe his feelings.

  “Yes,” Nathanial agreed, his voice low. He straightened up, his cock slipping from Sebastian’s body. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I fully intend to repeat that moment, several times. I won’t have you passing out for lack of food or drink.”

  “Do you care if I have appointments to meet?” Sebastian asked curiously.

  “Do you have appointments you care to meet, right now?” Nathanial returned.

  Sebastian considered him. “Even if the King of England himself were to request my presence, I believe I would prefer to stay right here.”

  Nathanial picked up the bottle of oil again. “Then we are agreed. Good.” His mouth lifted in a small smile. “Brace yourself.”

  * * * * *

  Twelve hours later, dressed in his new finery, Sebastian again walked the paths of the East Park, checking each group of ladies he approached to spot his quarry. He felt pleasantly drained, energetic and oddly happy. His body carried odd aches from his exertions the night before, but no pain. Every time he thought about the hours he had spent in Nathanial’s bed, his body would tighten, recalling the pleasure he had experienced.

  But he needed to keep his mind on the task at hand, and this morning, that meant picking up the reins of his plan to acquire some of Lady Wandsworth’s sixty thousand pounds.

  “Sebastian!” The light call came from behind him, and he turned to look. He had been moving at a pace that let him catch up with each group of strollers. Behind him, Anne was hurrying along, her hand lifting her hem just enough to let her maintain her pace. As she wore no corsetry or restrictive garments under her dress, it was possible for her to walk at a rapid pace and not tire. But she could not run, not in public, so Sebastian halted, letting her catch up.

  “I see you have recovered from your disappointment of last night,” he told her.

  “Oh, that? Never mind that,” she said and slipped her hand under his elbow and turned him to walk the path. “I’m glad I found you before you found Lady Wandsworth.”

  “Oh?”

  She gave him a smile that brought out her dimples in a very pleasing way. “You are far too suspicious,” she accused him. “I only wanted to speak to you alone.”

  “You risk besmirching the reputation Lady Wandsworth believes you to have, walking with me.”

  “I’ll risk it. Sebastian, you heard Nathanial talking about the Queen of France’s stolen necklace, yesterday.”

  He sighed. “That silly story. I am weary of all mention of it, but women seem to find it vastly amusing.”

  “The necklace is in England,” Anne said.

  “So Nathanial said.”

  “Of course, Nathanial would know that,” she added.

  Sebastian glanced at her. “Why?” he asked, but he already knew. She had been leading him to this conclusion.

  “Because Nathanial has the necklace.”

  Sebastian disciplined himself not to speak and not react, until he had considered the full ramifications of this startling piece of news. “He plays a very cool game,” he remarked, remembering how Nathanial had entertained the ladies with the gossip about the necklace. He had spoken very casually.

  “He has smuggled it into England to sell it,” Anne continued.

  Sebastian shook his head. “No one could sell that necklace, not anywhere in the world and especially in England. It is too remarkable and too well known.”

  “Not if the necklace was broken down into silver and diamonds. They could be sold for their value and all risk removed.”

  “You would lose all value the heritage of the necklace provides,” Sebastian replied, thinking it through. He was not completely familiar with the purchase and sale of stolen jewelry. Stealing was not his preferred means of raising cash. However, he was knowledgeable enough to know that a piece of jewelry with a rich history was more valuable than the gems that went into it. This necklace, the Queen’s necklace, was dripping with scandal in high places.

  “As you say, he would not be able to sell the necklace while it remains whole. It is too recognizable. No one would want to be saddled with an item that was being sought for across Europe by every authority in every land.” She squeezed his arm. “That is why Nathanial is looking for a quick sale. He wants to be rid of it. It is too dangerous an item to hold for long.”

  “Yes, indeed it is,” Sebastian agreed. “But why are you telling me this? Nathanial knows, just as you do, that I am not wealthy. I am the last man Nathanial could consider as a potential buyer.”

  Anne sighed. “I must spell this out clearly.”

  “Yes, you must.”

  “I want you to help me steal the necklace from Nathanial,” she said, her expression happy and charming.

  Chapter Four

  “You are very quiet tonight,” Nathaniel observed, as they crossed the third intersection. The theatre was close by and carriages delivering their upper class theatre patrons were thick upon the road they walked beside.

  Sebastian closed off the dark thoughts plaguing him with effort and gave Nathanial a small smile. “It is nothing.”

  “Has no one ever taught you the folly of lying to a liar?” Nathanial told him.

  Sebastian sighed. “No, but that sounds like remarkable sense. It really is a small matter, Nathanial. I could not find Lady Wandsworth in the park this morning. I really should speak to her quite soon if I am to forward my plans.”

  “Especially if you want to cut Anne off from her money as well,” Nathanial added with a smile.

  They reached the final intersection before the theatre. A narrow lane ran down to the back of the theatre, giving access to the backstage for wagons and coaches.

 
; “’ere, you!” came a gruff call from the lane. “Nathanial!”

  They both turned to look down the lane. There was a rough-looking fellow with an unkempt beard and dirty face, which were all the details about the man that Sebastian could see because of the lack of light there. The man was standing a pace or so inside the lane. He beckoned with his fingers. “Ye oughtta come here,” he said. “I’ve a message for ye.”

  Sebastian stayed where he was. “Is this really as obvious as it seems?” he asked softly.

  Nathaniel was frowning. “I’m not entirely sure,” he murmured. He lifted his chin and spoke to the man. “Who is the message from?”

  “Now, that’d be tellin’, wouldn’t it?”

  Nathanial stepped into the lane and Sebastian caught at his arm. “Nathanial, no.”

  “It’s alright,” Nathanial said softly, over his shoulder. “I would like to know what the message is. It might be important.”

  “Delivered by a rogue like this? Don’t be stupid.”

  “It will be alright,” Nathanial repeated. “Stay here. Stay out of it.” He strode toward the ruffian who melted backwards into the darkness. Sebastian moved forward, into the lane, behind Nathanial, trying to see what the lack of light was hiding.

  Then the moon came out from behind a cloud and Sebastian saw that the man had halted halfway along the length of the lane. Nathanial stopped in front of him. Nathanial stood taller than him by half-a-head, but Sebastian had noticed that he stood taller than all men. The ruffian was taller than most.

  “Tell me your message,” Nathaniel demanded.

  The ruffian grinned. “Grab ‘im, lads.”

  Two men, both equivalent in dirt and lack of grooming, stepped out of a deeply recessed doorway, behind Nathanial. They circled around either side of him and caught his elbows with both hands.

  Nathanial glanced at them, then at the spokesman. “I see. It is to be like that, is it?”

  “It don’t ‘ave to be,” the man said. “You just ‘ave to tell us where the necklace is.”

  “Necklace?” Nathanial asked, his tone that of a puzzled man.

  Sebastian caught his breath, as a wash of horror spread through him. Anne was behind this. She wanted to know the location of the necklace. “No, Nathanial! Wait!” He rushed toward them, but he was already too late. The leader curled his hands into fists, and buried them in Nathanial’s stomach.

  Nathanial folded forward with a hard exhalation and the leader doubled up his fists, clenching one within the other, and hammered down on Nathanial’s exposed back.

  Nathanial would have dropped to the ground, except for the hold the pair had on his arms.

  Sebastian reached the fellow on the left, grabbed his arm and swung him around to face his fist, which he drove into his face, right between the eyes. From experience, he knew a blow like that, properly landed, caused so much pain it momentarily blinded the recipient.

  It was a perfect punch and the man let out a yell and brought his hands up to his eyes, letting Nathanial go. He staggered, yelling incoherently.

  The other drew back his upper lip in a snarling smile and reached into his pocket with one hand, just as the leader delivered another mighty blow upon Nathanial’s back. Nathanial dropped to his hands and knees, coughing.

  The second companion pulled a knife from his pocket. It glittered brightly in the moonlight.

  Sebastian’s chest tightened with growing fury. “Three of you and a knife against an unarmed man? Cowards, all of you.”

  “Stay out of this, boy,” the leader said. “’tis not your business.”

  “When you gang up against my friend, it becomes my business.” He took the three paces that brought him within reach of the fellow with the knife, feinted with his left hand, which brought the blade swinging around to defend against the move. It left the man’s chin open and Sebastian took the offered target, the knuckles of his right hand connecting with an impact that drove the man back a step. But as the man staggered back, he pin wheeled his arms, including the one holding the knife.

  The knife sliced through Sebastian’s new overcoat. There was a brief, sharp sensation that flared in agony.

  “Sebastian!” Nathanial yelled, sounding nothing like a man who had just taken a beating. He sounded outraged. Then he spoke again, and Sebastian understood none of it. It was a foreign-sounding tongue – not even the Italian Sebastian thought a man with a name like Aquila might know.

  As Sebastian staggered back away from the flailing blade, as heat seemed to bloom in his chest, Nathanial surged to his feet, glaring around at all three of them. He appeared none the worse for the blows he had taken. “You have made a serious mistake,” he told them, his voice very calm and his face very still. But there was something in his eyes…an emotion Sebastian could not recognize for the pain in his chest was distracting him. So were his knees which had become unaccountably weak. He staggered toward the wall of the theatre and rested against it. His knees buckled and he slid down the wall to sit upon the dirt.

  He pressed his hand against his chest and looked down upon it. There was a dark stain spreading over his snowy white new shirt, rising above the neck of his waistcoat as it spread.

  “Oh…” he said, his voice weak.

  Nathanial glanced at him. “I’ll be with you in a few moments,” he said. “Press your hand against it until I am there.”

  Sebastian tried to nod, but he felt light headed and couldn’t move his chin. He lifted his hand – it took enormous effort – and pressed it against his chest. Then he pressed his other hand over the top, to hold the first in place.

  Nathanial pulled his coat off and dropped it to the ground, as the three ruffians backed up deeper into the alley. They were afraid of him.

  “You can run if you like,” Nathanial offered. “It won’t save you.”

  The one with the knife dropped it with a clatter, then turned and ran toward the end of the alley.

  Sebastian couldn’t say for sure what happened next. His vision was impaired, perhaps from the injury, and time seemed to fold in on itself, for Nathanial began to move very fast indeed, almost too fast for Sebastian to follow.

  The two ruffians that had not run abruptly dropped to the ground, clutching at their throats, which were spurting blood. Then the man that had used the knife squealed, somewhere in the dark at the end of the alley. The squeal cut off abruptly.

  Sebastian swallowed. He was unaccountably thirsty.

  “Sebastian.” Nathanial was abruptly standing in front of him. He got to his knees, straddling one of Sebastian’s useless legs and pulled his coat open. He gave a breathy groan, looking up into the night sky. “Why did you not stay where it was safe?” he demanded.

  “Because...” He wanted to explain that staying where Nathanial had left him would have been unthinkable. That he hadn’t thought. He had simply acted.

  Nathanial was tugging at his shirt. The buttons scattered, one of them bouncing with a soft sound against the brick of the building at Sebastian’s back. “Let me see,” he said gently, moving Sebastian’s hands out of the way by resting them on his thighs. Sebastian wanted to protest that the blood would stain his breeches, but it remained only a thought.

  Nathanial pulled the shirt front open and hissed. “You have lost a lot of blood,” he murmured. “But it isn’t a fatal cut. I just need to stop the blood from flowing.” He tapped Sebastian’s cheek, making him open his eyes. Nathanial was studying him, but the moon was at his back, and Sebastian couldn’t see his eyes properly because of it. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  What an odd question! And yet....

  Sebastian forced himself to speak the word. “Yes,” he whispered, for it was true.

  “Thank you.” Nathanial leaned forward and for a moment, Sebastian thought he was about to kiss him, but his lips pressed against his chest, which he had bared to the night.

  Then Sebastian felt him licking the wound, which began to tingle and grow warm again. Then even warmer, until it w
as the hottest part of his chest. “What are you doing?” Sebastian whispered and was surprised to find the words were easier to speak.

  Nathanial lifted his head a small fraction of an inch. “Healing you.” He studied his chest carefully, as if the dark was no barrier to his investigation. “It is done.”

  The heat was dissipating. Sebastian blinked. “Healing?”

  “Closing the wound, so that it no longer bleeds,” Nathanial told him. “To fully heal, you will need to recover from the blood you have lost. That will take rest, food and time.”

  Sebastian let his head roll back against the wall. “I am tired,” he agreed.

  “Then it is time to get you home,” Nathanial told him, and lifted him to his feet.

  Sebastian swayed and clutched at him to maintain his balance. “God above!”

  “And his son in heaven,” Nathanial agreed, sounding amused. “Come, my foolish one. You need to sleep. When you have recovered, we will talk.”

  * * * * *

  There was no disorientation, this time. The room and the big bed had become familiar in the space of a day. Sebastian lay blinking up at the decorative edging on the ceiling, listening to the quiet sounds on the street outside, muffled by the closed window. There was very little traffic passing over the cobbles, and the street itself shed no light through the windows, which meant it was late enough for the lamps along the street to have been extinguished for the night. That meant it was past two in the morning.

  There was a soft sound in the room beyond the door, which was closed. It sounded like Nathanial was still awake. Sebastian rolled onto his side, then remembered the wound. He looked down at his naked chest, then sat up properly and examined it as carefully as he could in the dark.

  His chest was completely unmarked.

  He remembered Nathanial carrying him home. His feet had been close to useless, but even carrying his full weight had not seemed to tax Nathanial. Once home, he had laid him on the bed, stripped him of his clothes, and washed away the blood, all in silence.