A/N I've had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so be warned, things might
get a little dirty. Oh yeah, and since it's unlikely that I'll be writing
other stories very soon after this is finished, I'd like to dedicate this
fic to my good friend GREEN - happy thoughts, comrade, and may the *slash*
symbol be with you in times of need. *g*
And to any other readers who actually wish to find out how this story ends,
I'd better warn you that I'm going to be gearing up to an R-rating in the
hopefully-not-too-distant future (*woohoo!* I hear you cry, Green). Hope
you enjoy!
Chapter 4 - London Nights
The summer term had finished, and our hero and his beloved Henry were free to go home. But young Darcy was a popular lad at Eton, a favourite among the teachers and therefore of many of the other academically-minded youths in his year, and so Henry and George had been invited to spend their summer holidays with Samuel Marks, a thin, bookish fellow with an unaesthetically large chin and surprisingly fine mousy hair upon his head. His friendship with Henry was faint at best, if not non-existent, but the thought of spending a whole summer in town trailing after his father and his numerous 'gentlemen's clubs' was too much to bear, and so Henry and George would have to do as his excuse for staying away from his father's more innovative pursuits.
The alternative to clubs in town was of course the many glamorous parties and soirees, not to mention the prestigious and ever so tedious Almacks Assembly Rooms. Young Henry, being an awkward Northern chap, felt uncomfortable in the presence of so many beautiful young debutantes in silk and lace fluttering their fans and their lashes in his direction, as the only times he had been in London were with his father on short business trips. But worldly-wise George easily charmed the gentlemen, enchanted the ladies, and guided poor Henry away from the bustle to quiet corners for some peace.
One very excitable woman, a young widow with a penchant for pretty young fresh-faced lads, was most determined in her pursuit of Henry. He dragged George out of the room to a darkened corner behind a pillar in the hallway, and, grasping George's coat lapels in both hands, he brought his face directly in front of his friend's. He whispered desperately to George of his predicament concerning the widow, and urged him to help him out of it, as he always did.
But George's mind was on other things. His nose was at best only one inch away from his friend's; a wild flare of panic could be seen in Henry's eyes, a flare very similar to that caused by passion; Henry's eyelashes were so long, they almost touched his own; their chest were lightly touching and George could almost feel the vibrations of Henry's heart pass into his own breast. His smell was divine - the popular sandalwood cologne worn by most young men, accompanied by the clean fragrance of his hair and his freshly starched neck cloth. As for his lips...
******************************************************
Henry's first reaction to the kiss was of complete bewilderment. Momentarily addled by his own dilemma with the widow, he instinctively moved his lips in response to George's, but only for a second. In no time, he was pushing George away from him, and with a final look of confusion, loathing and self-disgust, he wiped his mouth swiftly with his sleeve and marched clumsily out from behind the pillar back into the assembly room.
As for George, he closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and smiled. Being an expert in such matters, he was very pleased with the current situation. That first intake of breath from Henry had not been caused by surprise, oh no... He ran his finger slowly across his lips, detecting a slight moistness that was not from his own mouth. After a moment of self- reflection, he walked leisurely back into the assembly room and walked directly to the refreshments' table. With a glass of punch in one hand and a pastry in the other, he watched Henry as he gracelessly strode towards Samuel and forcedly engaged him in conversation, no doubt to take his mind off the little 'event' that had just taken place.
Suddenly, Henry turned his head and his eyes were captured by George's. Holding his gaze, George bit slowly into his pastry with a seductive smirk. A quick spark of disorientation lit up Henry's eyes, and he quickly turned his head away, but not quickly enough for him not to catch George lifting his punch glass to him in salute. Let the games begin...
Chapter 4 - London Nights
The summer term had finished, and our hero and his beloved Henry were free to go home. But young Darcy was a popular lad at Eton, a favourite among the teachers and therefore of many of the other academically-minded youths in his year, and so Henry and George had been invited to spend their summer holidays with Samuel Marks, a thin, bookish fellow with an unaesthetically large chin and surprisingly fine mousy hair upon his head. His friendship with Henry was faint at best, if not non-existent, but the thought of spending a whole summer in town trailing after his father and his numerous 'gentlemen's clubs' was too much to bear, and so Henry and George would have to do as his excuse for staying away from his father's more innovative pursuits.
The alternative to clubs in town was of course the many glamorous parties and soirees, not to mention the prestigious and ever so tedious Almacks Assembly Rooms. Young Henry, being an awkward Northern chap, felt uncomfortable in the presence of so many beautiful young debutantes in silk and lace fluttering their fans and their lashes in his direction, as the only times he had been in London were with his father on short business trips. But worldly-wise George easily charmed the gentlemen, enchanted the ladies, and guided poor Henry away from the bustle to quiet corners for some peace.
One very excitable woman, a young widow with a penchant for pretty young fresh-faced lads, was most determined in her pursuit of Henry. He dragged George out of the room to a darkened corner behind a pillar in the hallway, and, grasping George's coat lapels in both hands, he brought his face directly in front of his friend's. He whispered desperately to George of his predicament concerning the widow, and urged him to help him out of it, as he always did.
But George's mind was on other things. His nose was at best only one inch away from his friend's; a wild flare of panic could be seen in Henry's eyes, a flare very similar to that caused by passion; Henry's eyelashes were so long, they almost touched his own; their chest were lightly touching and George could almost feel the vibrations of Henry's heart pass into his own breast. His smell was divine - the popular sandalwood cologne worn by most young men, accompanied by the clean fragrance of his hair and his freshly starched neck cloth. As for his lips...
******************************************************
Henry's first reaction to the kiss was of complete bewilderment. Momentarily addled by his own dilemma with the widow, he instinctively moved his lips in response to George's, but only for a second. In no time, he was pushing George away from him, and with a final look of confusion, loathing and self-disgust, he wiped his mouth swiftly with his sleeve and marched clumsily out from behind the pillar back into the assembly room.
As for George, he closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and smiled. Being an expert in such matters, he was very pleased with the current situation. That first intake of breath from Henry had not been caused by surprise, oh no... He ran his finger slowly across his lips, detecting a slight moistness that was not from his own mouth. After a moment of self- reflection, he walked leisurely back into the assembly room and walked directly to the refreshments' table. With a glass of punch in one hand and a pastry in the other, he watched Henry as he gracelessly strode towards Samuel and forcedly engaged him in conversation, no doubt to take his mind off the little 'event' that had just taken place.
Suddenly, Henry turned his head and his eyes were captured by George's. Holding his gaze, George bit slowly into his pastry with a seductive smirk. A quick spark of disorientation lit up Henry's eyes, and he quickly turned his head away, but not quickly enough for him not to catch George lifting his punch glass to him in salute. Let the games begin...