Duende (6 page)

For a moment he just sat there, eyes closed, chest heaving as Badri looked up at him. He watched the flutter of Aimé's dark lashes against his cheeks, the shape of his collarbone, his dark nipples, the way one hand gripped the edge of the chair. Aimé's other hand caressed the soft swells of his chest, the round fullness of his belly. Aimé's cock was small, but hard, between his thighs, and Badri wanted very much to lean forward and take it into his mouth. But Aimé started moving then, just a little bit at first, then moving his hips, causing him to sway back and forth as the chair itself rocked. Badri could imagine the toy fucking up into Aimé's tight body, imagine the heat and grip of him around its wide girth.

Badri reached forward, putting one hand on the chair to rock it just a little bit, pushing the toy deeper, and Aimé cried out, eyes flying open.

"I'm sorry." Badri let go of the chair.

"No." Aimé's hand came forward, gripping at Badri's shoulder. "Do it again. Push it again."

Badri braced his hand firmly against the chair, pushing it back and forth with just enough force to cause the toy to penetrate deep into Aimé's body with each rocking motion. Aimé's other hand went to his cock, fisting himself. Badri reached down with his own free hand, wrapping his fingers around one of Aimé's ankles and pulling his leg up to rest against Badri's shoulder.

The change of angle made Aimé gasp and lean back, biting at his lower lip as his hand sped up. Badri turned his head to mouth along Aimé's calf, down to his ankle and the curve of his foot. He used his teeth to nibble ever so slightly at Aimé's arch. Aimé made another pleasure-filled noise, and Badri took his hand off the chair to reach for Aimé's other ankle, resting it against his shoulder as well.

The chair was just low enough that when Aimé arched his back he could reach behind him, bracing his hands against the floor as Badri spread both of his legs up and wide. Badri reached back down again, rocking the chair, grinning as Aimé's cries became desperate.

"Can you come from this?" Badri pressed the chair back hard, causing Aimé to gasp.

Aimé shook his head. "I don't think so... please touch me, I need—" He broke off with a groan, and Badri grinned wider and took his hand off the chair, bending forward to take Aimé's cock into his mouth. He sucked hard and Aimé shook, cried out, and came.

There was a little trickle of clear precome, just enough to wet Badri's tongue, which he thought, drawing back, was vastly preferable to other partners he'd had who'd tended to come enough to choke him.

Aimé was staring at the ceiling, eyes glazed over, and Badri fisted his own, now almost-painful, erection.

"I want to come on you."

Aimé blinked up at him. "What?"

"I want to come on your skin." Badri pumped himself faster, fist tighter.

Lips parting with obvious want, Aimé leaned back, rocked himself slowly on the toy still inside him. "Okay." His eyes fluttered shut. Badri could not imagine continuing to be fucked after he'd already come, but Aimé seemed to enjoy the extra stimulation. The sight of Aimé rocking himself slowly onto the toy, continuing to be spread and invaded by it, was almost enough to push Badri over the edge. He pushed his thumb up over the head of his cock, drawing his foreskin back more as he pulled down, and felt his balls draw up as his climax pulsed through him.

Badri gritted his teeth as his cock throbbed in his hand, his seed falling onto Aimé's skin, the round softness of his belly and chest. Aimé opened his eyes as Badri came, staring up at him as Badri rode out the waves of pleasure.

Aimé blinked up at him, and Badri felt as if his consciousness was floating somewhere up at the top of his head. In his hand, his cock had begun to go limp again, and his thighs shook ever so slightly.

He looked down at his own seed, which stood out white against Aimé's skin. Badri found he couldn't tear his eyes away. "I want..." He swallowed, his tongue feeling slick and words coming slow in his post-pleasure haze. He dropped to his knees again in front of Aimé, who was still watching him, looking slightly puzzled now.

Slowly, Badri leaned forward and licked a few drops off of Aimé's hip. Aimé drew in a sharp breath, hand coming up, and Badri thought he was about to be pushed away.

"Yes." Aimé's tone was fierce, and his hand curled around the back of Badri's head as Badri licked across Aimé’s stomach, cleaning the seed from Aimé's skin. Badri licked up Aimé's body, across his chest. Aimé was warm and soft under his mouth, and he smelled like sex and a hint of cologne. Aimé's fingers carded through the hair on the back of Badri's head as he licked and sucked lightly at his chest. He took one of Aimé's nipples into his mouth, grazing with his teeth until Aimé gasped.

"You are making me want to get hard again."

"Good." Badri pressed his lips against Aimé's skin, nuzzled against him, although in truth, he felt too calm and lazy for another round. He lapped at Aimé's other nipple until the hand in his hair tightened.

"Help me up." Aimé's voice was deeper than Badri had ever heard it, and sounded just as relaxed as Badri felt. Badri’s lips brushed Aimé's collarbone and then stood, holding out his hands to Aimé, who gripped Badri tightly as he eased himself up and off the toy that had been stretching him open.

Badri looped his arms around Aimé's waist when Aimé was all the way standing.

"Was that after-dinner drink satisfactory?" Badri asked, unable to keep the laughter from his voice, and both of Aimé's eyebrows arched even as his lips curled up in a smile.

"I wasn't aware we were finished, Monsieur Mukherjee."

"Oh, no?" Badri bent to nuzzle Aimé's neck and the soft spot behind his ear.

"Hmm, no." Aimé's hands spread across his shoulders and down his back, sliding around to stroke over his chest, gripping and massaging at the curve and swell of muscles as he went. "We need to bathe, finish that drink in front of the fire, I think, and then see what the rest of the night holds."

Badri straightened as Aimé's fingers found one of his nipples. "I have practice first thing tomorrow." It was a weak objection, and judging by Aimé's grin, he knew it.

"So do I." Aimé said. "Just as long as we don't make a habit of these long nights, one won't kill us."

"I suppose." Badri's hands slid from Aimé's waist to grip at the double swells of his lush ass.

"Sunday nights," Aimé said, as if deciding something. "I want to take you to dinner then, and we can indulge. The rest of the time can be for our work."

Badri looked at Aimé's dark eyes and small, round face. "You want that?" He let his hands run back up Aimé's spine. "Something… something that will last?"

"If you will have me."

Aimé tilted his face up, and Badri met him halfway in a kiss.

*~*~*

"Hurry up!" Badri called over his shoulder as he exited Aimé's flat. "Stop primping; we are going to be late."

"And that would be a tragedy." Aimé appeared, pulling the door shut behind him and locking it. "I don't want to go to this party, anyway. I would much rather stay home with you."

Badri smiled back at him before pulling the carriage door open. "You need to make an appearance, remember? Count de Fézensac's orders. But we don't have to stay the whole time."

"Thank God." Aimé rolled his eyes as he settled in the carriage, then caught sight of Badri's fond grin. It made his stomach flutter even now, after almost a year, and he reached out for Badri's hand.

The second party of the season was hosted by the House de la Marche.

Despite Badri's best efforts, they arrived fashionably late.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as they climbed from the carriage, all eyes were on Aimé, who was dressed in many shades of green silk, embroidered all over with flowers and creeping vines with silver thread, silver lace at his cuffs and long, silver drops hanging from each ear.

He would be playing the role of the fairy princess, rewritten and reimagined just for him this season. Thus, his entire wardrobe for public appearances was now fairy-themed.

On his arm, Badri was burning reds and oranges, embroidered with the sun and stars in gold.

They cut through the crowd together, up the steps and into the huge la Marche estate house. All around them Aimé could hear the murmur and whisper of courtiers, feel the eyes on him, but he kept his head high, each movement practiced and confident as if he were stepping out onto the stage.

Badri was a warm, solid presence at his side: a comforting arm linked with his own.

Plucking a glass from one of the trays carried by a serving man, Badri handed it to Aimé, who took it and sipped, Badri's eyes fixed on Aimé's face the entire time. They stood close, closer than what was proper. Aimé heard the whispers and smiled slow and secret, just for Badri.

Badri returned the look, all private heat, meant both as a promise for when they got home and as a tease for those who watched, before leading Aimé onto the dance floor.

"You are shameless," Aimé said, "the way you like to tease them." His eyes slid to the nobles who surrounded the dance floor.

"They would stare at us anyway," Badri said. "I am only giving them something to look at."

"Where is the Marquis de la Marche?" Aimé asked as Badri locked their fingers together and turned them in a slow circle. "Isn't this his party?"

"Technically, these are always his mother's doing," Badri said. "Gregory's probably hiding out in his observatory. That is, if he bothered to stop studying at all. He's not overly fond of parties." Badri scanned the room as they circled each other, again pulling Aimé a little closer to him than what was proper. "That and Lord Ashcroft de Bourbon was a last-minute addition to the guest list, and Gregory would rather die than admit it, but Lord Ashcroft intimidates him. They've never met in person, and I think Gregory is trying very hard to keep it that way. He'll probably not come out at all this entire evening, which reminds me, I don't believe you've met Gregory."

"No, I have not yet had the honor." Aimé locked their fingers again so that the palms of their hands pressed together, and stepped in close enough that their chests almost touched.

"We will see if we can sneak away later on, and I'll introduce the two of you." Badri looped his arm with Aimé’s as the song ended, and he led the way off the dance floor.

"Ah, Sushil, there you are," Badri called out, tugging Aimé towards where Sushil stood, holding his own drink and looking wary.

Aimé braced himself as nobles in brightly-colored dresses and frockcoats swarmed them. He comforted himself with Badri's presence at his side.

"Or maybe we can simply go home early." He kept his tone low enough for only Badri to hear him.

 Home could be his apartment or Badri's, but either way, it meant curling up on the settee together. There would probably be wine and the opportunity for Aimé to peel those lovely clothes off of Badri's even-more-lovely body, or simply fall sleep together with Badri's head on his lap.

A young man in a fancy purple coat went to grab at Badri's arm, and Aimé pulled Badri closer, sidestepping his grip without appearing to do so. He took the glass Sushil offered him with a smile.

"Come, Sushil, walk with us in the garden." Badri nodded to him, and the three of them headed for the glass doors that led out onto the lawn.

"The Countess of Chalon was asking me when you two are to be wed," Sushil told them as they stepped out into the cool evening air, heading for the hedge maze, away from the sounds of the party.

"Oh, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Badri said with a lazy smile, but his arm that had slipped down around Aimé's waist tightened.

"Am I?" Sushil raised his eyebrows and sipped his wine, and Aimé pressed a little closer against Badri's side.

Badri laughed. "At least give us a little time to live together in sin. Besides, getting married would mean moving back home to Mother, because she'll want to organize the wedding for sure."

"Oh yes, she will at that." Sushil threw Aimé a knowing smile. "Here." He took the empty glass from Aimé's hand. "I'll get us some more."

"Wait, Sushil—" Badri called after him as Sushil turned back towards the house, but Aimé caught up both of Badri's hands in his own, keeping Badri from following. He tugged Badri further into the maze, until they were out of sight.

"Thank you," he said when they were tucked away behind a tall, green hedge, pressing close to Badri's tall, solid form.

"For what?" Badri brushed his lips against Aimé’s hair before straightening back enough to look down at him.

"For being here with me." Aimé tilted his head up to meet Badri's gaze. "Only I got pressed into coming by my patron. You could have stayed at home and had an early evening for once."

"I would never leave you to face most of court alone." Badri braided their fingers together.

"Well, I am grateful."

Then Aimé was pressed against Badri again, their lips meeting longer and slower this time, more thoroughly. They parted when Aimé stopped being able to breathe, but only with reluctance.

"We should go home early," Aimé said again, and Badri licked his lips and nodded, gaze focused on Aimé's face.

"How soon do you think we can reasonably get away?"

"I don't know." Aimé slid his hands into Badri's jacket along his sides to rest against Badri's hips. "But I'll make it worth your while for it to be soon."

"Is that so?" Badri raised his eyebrows, smiling now.

"Oh, but you wanted to introduce me to the Marquis de la Marche," Aimé said. "Remember?"

"Later." Badri tugged him back towards the entrance to the hedge maze. "There will be plenty of other opportunities, I'm sure. For now, let us go see whom we must speak to, be seen with or near, so we can say we did your societal duty. So I can take you home and spent the rest of the evening wearing something more comfortable."

 "We may need to dance again," Aimé said, and Badri made a face of disgust.

Aimé couldn't help but smile. "But it is so very proper, and anyone can do it."

"To hell with being proper," Badri said under his breath. "I’d rather it mean something."

Aimé kissed him right there on the lawn of the Marquis de la Marche's estate and found he did not care about the spectacle they made.