Five
Words: 2037
This is the third vignette in Five, although it was the second I wrote. I would
just like to say...that thanks to Cain, I suffered a 19th century fashion
crisis. Thank you...so much, you horny bunny..._ (oh yeah,
thanks to Lyn and Erin French, too, for reading this disjointed little
drabble!)
Three: Wondering
The ticking of the clock helped distract Riff. He leaned with his elbows on the
mahogany desk, kicking a leg of the chair he sat in as he stared at the two
separate pieces of parchment in front of him; one was covered in scrawled
writing, and the other was completely blank except for a salutation in his own
handwriting: Dear Clyde. He looked at the other parchment, a letter to
him from his brother, and read the beginning for inspiration on how to begin
the reply, but his mind drew a blank.
It wasn't as if he wanted to reply to Clyde's letter, but out of common
courtesy and decency, he felt forced. That letter from his brother didn't
exactly put Riff in a good mood, though. According to him, Clyde was a slacker,
and Riff certainly didn't like those types, brother or not. Of course, it
obviously didn't help that the two had never gotten along since childhood.
In a careless manner with complete disregard of all tact, Clyde had stated in
his letter that he would be visiting and staying at the Raffit household for a
number of weeks.
The slow ticking was almost mesmerizing as he tapped a fountain pen against the
parchment, staring at the two words occupying a small space. Any decent way to
forcefully decline his brother's visit was lost to Riff. The household staff,
like himself, disliked the master's younger, wilder brother; in fact, the only
one who would be happy to hear of this news would be his wife, Lucinda. She had
always seemed partial to the younger Raffit, and no one seemed to think it
suspicious besides Riff.
At the moment the lady of the house was visiting a friend in Oxford; she had
been there for a month and was scheduled to come back later in the day.
In a burst of inspiration, Riff scrawled quickly, Thank you for your recent
letter. As quickly as it had came, though, it died down and he was resigned
to tapping his pen against the parchment, staring at his recent addition to the
letter; he felt irritated at the fact that he couldn't compose a simple letter
to his brother.
The clock kept ticking, and soon Riff adjusted his tapping to match that of the
clock. It failed to help him at all, though. He put his head in his hands and
tried to think of what all he wished to tell his brother.
Well, plenty of subjects presented themselves, but none that were decent enough
to mention.
Riff heard the muted squeak of the doorknob, but didn't even bother to look up
to see who it was. He knew already; it was the same person who ever cared to
interrupt him whenever he holed himself up in the study.
"I brought you tea and biscuits, sir," the light tenor said in a near
whisper as he shut the door behind him.
Setting the parchment aside, Riff sighed and muttered as he ran a hand through
his hair, "Thank you, Cain."
The servant moved to lay the tray complete with a silver teapot, cup, and
biscuits on the freshly cleared spot his master made on the desk. "My
pleasure," he smiled and unloaded the cup, taking the teapot by the handle
and pouring the hot liquid through the spout into it.
Riff took the cup from him and when his fingers brushed up against Cain's, he
turned to smile at him, almost wearily, as the touch lingered on. Eventually he
lifted the cup to his lips, drinking slowly, and the contact broke.
Waiting by his side, Cain asked without diffidence as he leaned casually
against the desk and watched his master sip lightly, "Was that letter this
morning from your brother, Clyde?"
"Unfortunately yes," he replied, looking vaguely put out as he set
the cup down on the tray. Riff retrieved the letter from its placed shuffled
with the unfinished letter and various other documents; he passed it to Cain
who read it with dismay.
Cain discarded the letter back on the desk and muttered haughtily, "You
honestly cannot be thinking of allowing him to stay under this roof, Riff. He
treats us like we are objects not people and harasses some of the
younger maids."
A wayward smile graced Riff's features as he gazed at his servant in brief
amusement. "I believe you are too spoiled, Cain."
"Well you made me that way," he retorted in mock offense as he
moved to lean his hips against the master's chair. His arm draped along the
back of the chair almost in a possessive manner, but the servant still kept an
aloof poise.
Riff moved to shuffle the discarded letter neatly in a pile; to an outsider it
seemed as if he stuck papers wherever haphazardly, but it was actually a
complicated system of organization known and understood only by him. That's why
Riff preferred to work alone, but such distractions as the servant before him
were certainly welcomed. "It's not as if I can change that now, now
is it?" he muttered off-handedly as he set the unfinished reply letter
directly in front of him.
Cain stiffened and withdrew his arm from its lazy position, crossing it with
the other instead as he distantly spoke, "If you are unhappy with my
performance, sir, then I'm sure there are several other employees who would
match your satisfaction."
Immediately breaking his concentration from the task before him, Riff turned to
his servant, taken aback for a second, but then his features softened and even
a smile played upon his lips. "You...you are irreplaceable, Cain. I am
very pleased with your performance and you satisfy me
indefinitely." To add to that, he took a bare hand from the servant and as
Cain's crossed arms unraveled, he pressed his lips against the back of the cool
hand for several moments. Though he broke the gentle kiss, he still kept the
hand in his own, looking up at its owner's softened expression. With a definite
glimmer in his eyes, Riff asked teasingly, "Will you ever forgive
me for those harsh words, my love?"
Almost to the point of placidity, Cain nodded in wordless affirmation, locking
his softened gaze with Riff's mischievously clandestine eyes; the only hint of
what lie behind them was a glimmer resembling that of a much younger boy.
Riff discarded the servant's hand beside him and reached at Cain's waist to
pull him closer to him, forcing the younger man to bend slightly over the arm
of the chair and lean against him. With his other hand he then grasped the
collar of Cain's suit and pulled him closer, kissing him fully on the lips as
his other hand traveled curiously from his waist to down his back.
Leaning further into the kiss, Cain grabbed the lapels of Riff's shirt
hesitantly, pulling him closer, as his master's hand traveled increasingly
further down his lower back and rested with slight teasing movements on the
base of Cain's tailbone. With a soft moan the servant broke the kiss for a
brief second and moved to straddle Riff's lap before placing his hands at his
master's cheeks and resuming the fervent kiss.
His hands displaced, Riff lightly rested his palms on Cain's back again and
slowly brought his hands down, feeling with his finger tips the texture of the
fabric carefully as he made the descent, to either side of the servant's waist,
resting there as he made lazy circles with his fingers and felt Cain's hands
slide down to his shoulders. All the while he submitted almost artfully to
Cain's passionate osculation, letting a soft gasp escape his lips as the
subordinate slid his tongue instead down to Riff's jaw line, giving slight nips
and licks.
Slowly, as if not to disturb, Riff guided his hand up underneath Cain's vest
and along his trousers until he found the top button. As his fingers worked
deftly to loosen the button, he felt Cain's hot breath travel down to the base
of his neck and his lips latch onto soft skin. Emitting a pleasured sigh as
Cain attacked his neck with a barrage of bites and kisses, Riff moved on to
loosening the second button in the line after the first was undone while his
other hand traced a tender path from Cain's waist up repeatedly before slowly
drifting down his back.
As he continued at his master's neck, Cain guided his hands downwards over the
span of Riff's chest, moving over to where the first button of the vest rested
and toyed with it slightly; it eventually became undone and he went on to the
next. His teasing receding, Cain felt Riff's hands on his trousers as he
trailed with his lips to the other side of his neck and his fingers sped up
their work, unbuttoning the last ones. He began to brush with his fingers up
against the smooth fabric underneath the vest in familiar exploration.
Lingering over a small, hard nub felt through the fabric, he circled around it
with a fingertip, casually gracing over, and elicited a sigh from Riff as he
shifted his weight in his lap.
Interrupted by the sensations he felt, Riff only remembered the task before him
when Cain's shift in position forced him further against him, making it hard
for him to unbutton Cain's trousers without outright groping him.
Not that Riff was complaining, though.
Sliding what he could get of his hand in the brief opening of the half undone
buttons, Riff did just that - grope him - and he was awarded with a vaguely
surprised, but very audible, moan from Cain, who had resigned to licking Riff's
collar bone. Although it had been muted against his skin, the very fact that it
was noise made Riff actually blush, and the way Cain rubbed himself against
him, requesting more in low whispers into his ear, did nothing to control the
heat of the blush and dizzying feeling he felt...
...Which was why the two of them nearly jumped at the sound of a knock from the
other side of the door.
Cain quickly removed himself from Riff and looked at him, very startled, with
an expression that commanded instruction. As Riff swiftly redid the buttons to
his vest, he remained in the chair and gave the go ahead for Cain to answer the
door.
"...Cain!" he whispered abruptly as the servant had turned.
"Button up yourself!"
The servant hissed a brief expletive as he struggled to attend to his
appearance without leaving the door unanswered for an unnecessary amount of
time. The second he opened the door, though, he appeared professional as always
to the footman on the other side. "Yes?"
Riff was entirely too amused by the turn of events.
"A telegram as arrived from the lady of the house, Mr. Cain... Is Master
Riff with you?" the footman began and when his superior answered
affirmatively, he proceeded to deliver the telegram and bid them a good night.
As he closed the door behind him, Cain's professional exterior shed as quickly
as it had been constructed and was replaced by the familiar, open manner he
reserved for Riff. "Telegram from your wife," he stated as he handed
it over and sat on the arm of the chair with his arm casually around the master
of the house's shoulders.
Opening it and reading curiously, a small smile graced his lips as soon as he
was done. Folding it back up, Riff handed it back to Cain and summarized as he
watched him, "Lucinda won't be back tonight as planned and instead is
scheduled to come back tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh...what a shame..." Cain said in exaggerated falseness.
Riff leaned his head back against the servant's shoulder and sighed
melodramatically, "I know... Of course, I was very much looking forward to
her returning, seeing as how I've missed her so much. What will we be
forced to do instead of wait for her arrival tonight?"
A tiny smirked found itself in Cain's expression as he bent down to steal a
kiss, "I suppose we shall just be forced to entertain ourselves..."
"Mm, indeed we shall."