Page 10 of Sacred Virtues
“Good boy,” I moan when he finds a perfect rhythm and pressure, and my hips involuntarily thrust into him. The praise seems to spur him on, so I repeat the words as he speeds up. My groans are incoherent now, I’m just mumbling, but I don’t care. I can barely keep my hold on reality as I watch my dick disappearing into his stretched lips. My balls tighten and I thrust harder, riding the wave of pleasure as my orgasm rips through me and I dump my load into his mouth. He doesn’t pull away as I quake with the last shudders of my orgasm. I slip my dick out of his mouth and he bows his head. He looks so young and vulnerable that tenderness takes over me. I ease him off the floor and sit on the bed, pulling him onto my lap.
“Can I take this off?” His voice is small as he touches the stole that blindfolds him.
I reach to untie it, and as it falls away he blinks, even though the light is low. Then I notice that his eyes are wet and his cheeks damp.
“What’s the matter, my son?” I ask.
“I-I don’t like the dark,” he stutters. Shit, I didn’t know that and never gave it a thought, I just wanted no one to bear witness to my sin. Was that what he was trying to tell me?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and he slips his arms around me, burying his head into my neck. I haven’t had anyone this close to me in over thirty years. It’s an odd sensation, but he feels right somehow. After a moment’s hesitation I hold him to me, offering what comfort I can for my mistake. He sighs and nuzzles into me, sparking a warmth deep inside.
I can feel his dick hard against my stomach, and when I pull back slightly to look down, there’s a damp stain on his shirt. I look back at him, and his face flushes with embarrassment.
“Would you like me to take care of that for you?” I say in a low voice. He bites his lip and then nods before resting his head on my shoulder. A gesture that melts my core. I reach for the jar of salve I keep by my bed, made by Matthew for when my knees get stiff in the colder months. Primarily consisting of butter, it has a blend of herbs and will do well enough for this purpose.
I lift his undershirt and see his dick, long and thin and as pretty as he is. I coat my hand with some of the salve and wrap it around him. I try to be gentle at first, but he moans, “Faster” against my shoulder. The salve warms, and soon the room is filled with the heady smells of rosemary and chamomile.
“Very good.” I can’t help the praise slipping out, and his hips start moving as he throws his head back, exposing his long beautiful neck, and starts thrusting against me.
“Good boy, that’s it, you fuck my hand. You fuck it good and hard.” The words slip out but I don’t regret them as he bites down on his lip and responds to my encouragement. I let out another string of praise and he hums and moans at each stroke of my hand. I feel his body go taut as if he’s fighting his release. I want to see him come. I want to see his pretty face cry out in ecstasy and for me to be the one to bring it to him.
“Come for me, my pretty boy,” I say, my voice deeper than normal. His whole body quivers and then his back arches and his mouth opens wordlessly. He spills all over my hand in waves. Then his body sags and he goes limp against me. I lay him down gently and stand, finding a linen cloth to clean him up and wipe my hands. By the time I return he’s already asleep.
With his blond hair ruffled and his light lashes against the pink of his cheeks, he’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time. He’s also the most dangerous, and I can’t help thinking I might have sealed my fate tonight.
CHAPTER 8
EMMETT
When I awake I realise I’m in my own bed, and the events of last night come back to me in a hazy rush. Too fantastical and dreamlike to be believed except for the smell of rosemary and the other herbs, along with a deep contentment in my bones. It had been my intention to get caught in his bed, to blackmail him, and if he didn’t capitulate, to create a fuss and give weight to the rumours. But I hadn’t expected him to appear naked. I’ve always been aroused by other men, a fact I found out when swimming with my friends in a lake as a youth. I also found out quickly that others didn’t share my desire and it was considered at worst, a vile and contemptible act, and at best something to be ridiculed. I learned to hide that side of me and soon stopped taking part in those activities.
But seeing Theobald in front of me, his body on show, his cock hardening in my presence, because of me... all thoughts of my reasons for being in his bed left me, and I wanted him.
I’ve never been with anyone previously. Even though there’ve been plenty of opportunities to bed the serving girls back home, they never held any interest for me. But as I knelt before Theobald, I would have done anything he asked. Even better was that he thought me to be good. No one has ever praised me before and I wanted to please him. I longed for every word he gave me, every touch and caress to my skin.
I sink back onto the bed, conflicting thoughts running through my head. What does it mean? What happens now? But all I really want is to see Theobald again. Suddenly restless, I dress quickly and go in search of him. I meet Abel in the small sitting room, where he’s sweeping the floor.
“Where can I find the abbot? I need to speak to him immediately,” I demand, and he looks at me sharply. If he has any knowledge of what happened last night, he doesn’t show it. His face is as stonelike as ever.
“He has devoted his morning to silent prayer,” he replies bluntly, and my hope of finding Theobald sinks. Then I remember what day it is.
“Is there a public Mass today?”
“Yes, there will be,” he replies.
“Good, good,” I mutter. I’m not sure what I can do with that information or how I can make Theobald see me afterwards, but I’ll figure it out.
“There’s some bread and cold meat in the dining room if you’re in need of food,” he adds, sounding almost congenial.
“Thank you, Abel,” I reply, surprised by his tone, and he nods. Which is practically cordial, as far as I’ve seen anything fromhim. I try not to read too much into it and find I am hungry, so I seek out the food and sit eating thoughtfully.
I think back to how Theobald’s cock felt on my tongue. I’ve never tasted a man’s dick before, but I happily devoured him, and when he spilled his seed in my mouth it felt like a gift from heaven. I’m not even ashamed at how I clung to him. He made me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt for a long time. I yearn for him to touch me again, to make me feel good.
After I’ve eaten, I have a little time before Mass so go and visit my horse. There are a couple of riding horses as well as a few work horses in the stables. She blows out a small greeting as I approach, and I feel a little guilty that I didn’t visit her yesterday. I check her over but see she’s being cared for very well.
Then I hear the bells start ringing and see people from the village entering the monastery grounds through the gatehouse. I quickly step into the line and follow them into the church. The coolness hits me first, followed by the singing, a hundred voices raised in praise. I look around in wonder as I shuffle after the person in front of me. A space opens up ahead and I dart through it, managing to gain the last space on the foremost pew. Stained glass windows depicting biblical scenes send diffused coloured light around the vast space. The rest of the villagers fill up the pews and a hush settles over them, a collective holding of breath.
Then I see Theobald emerge. His vestments are white, on his head a mitre, and around his neck, the ornately embroidered stole he demanded I wear last night. I hated it then, but seeing it now and knowing what we did, a delicious chill runs through my body and my cock twitches. Theobald takes the lectern and looks out over us all. I stare up at him, and for a beat his eyes meet mine and one side of his mouth quirks up. Then his glance moves on and I bow my head. I smile to myself, taking that lookthat was just for me and locking it inside. He starts his sermon, but I don’t listen to the words he’s saying, and certainly not their meaning. Instead I let his beautiful deep voice wash over me. I don’t know the words to any of the hymns, but the singing has a reverence that ignites my soul. I’ve never considered myself a religious man, attending Mass was something I did as a duty. An obligation to be endured if occasions demanded it. I still don’t think piety is a path I could follow, but seeing Theobald, his robes bathed in radiant shafts of light, his rich and vibrant voice reverberating around such a holy and reverent space makes me want to worship him.
