A Debt of Honor: Collected

Staying focused on the business letters that Nicodemus Martens passed to him for his signature was as difficult as paying attention to the long winded tutor his father had hired to teach him Latin before he attended university. Nevertheless, Gavin scrawled his name at the bottom of each after pretending to peruse it, and passed it back to the hovering man to be sanded. He managed to sit still on the hard maple desk chair, despite the ache in his backside and the urge to fidget, but he couldn't refrain from letting his gaze stray to the gently ticking clock on the marble mantelpiece. The gilt hands of the carriage clock seemed to move increasingly slowly. At last its dulcet chimes indicated the hour, and Gavin felt his body respond to that chime as to a lover's touch.

He ought to have been inert, unable, after the thorough romp he'd indulged in with Marcus. "Bernard Augustus St. John." He whispered the name almost reverently. The fulsome youth from Madame's gaming hell was set to arrive by quarter past, and Gavin had every reason to hope, based upon certain flirtatious repartee, that a most amicable arrangement could be made for the repayment of the debt the younger man had incurred.

"Pardon?" His secretary gazed at him, an auburn eyebrow lifted in inquiry.

"Ah. Martens. Last eve I had occasion to win a great sum off a gentleman at a gambling hell. He will be arriving shortly to make payment. It would be politic if you would make yourself scarce while we come to terms. It wouldn't do to embarrass the man."

"As you wish, sir." The man's smooth countenance, high cheekbones auburn hair and freckles didn't appeal at all to Gavin, though he had no trouble understanding what attraction the whip thin frame had for Marcus, and there was no denying the intelligence and humor in the pretty blue eyes. The man knew how to dress, too. His neat suit was of understated black, his linens pure white, fine quality. Discreet, not too expensive for his station in life, nor cheap. A knowledgeable spark, a fleeting expression of comprehension, appeared then vanished.

Gavin paused. The secretary couldn't possibly suspect the terms of payment that Gavin wished to enact, could he? Breaking eye contact dismissively, Gavin retrieved a key from the top drawer of his desk and unlocked the lowest drawer. Far at the back, behind a false panel, was a small, thin leather bound ledger in which he kept account of his gambling debts. Letting his fingers rest on the volume, he watched Martens intently. Nodding, the man wandered back to his own smaller desk with the signed letters and set about sanding, folding and sealing them.

A sharp rap came on the door.

"Come." A shiver rippled through him at the evocative word, and he castigated himself for the unlikely reaction.

The butler announced Bernard's presence, and stepped aside, ushering the young man into the room. Gavin nodded significantly at Martens, who gathered the letters and a small leather and gilt bound volume from his own desk. "I'll post these, sir. It's my afternoon away. I'll be in Green Park, if you have a need of me, my lord."

Gavin rose from his seat and crossed to the young man who hovered in front of his desk. Last night his cheeks had been flushed, eyes sparkling with enjoyment and drink. This afternoon his features were as finely drawn, but his skin was ashen and his brows drawn down. Ah, his father has indeed refused to part with the ready! Gavin smiled pleasantly; a warm tide of arousal washed over him. "Please be seated. May I get you a drink? Port? Whiskey?"

If possible the boy went even paler. For certain his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed rapidly. "No, thank you." The words were choked out. His blue-eyed gaze darted about, and then landed on a chair angled to face the desk. St. John sank into it and gripped the arm rests tightly.

Gavin leaned against his desk, crossed his ankles. He didn't care at all that the position stretched the fabric of his trousers tight across his groin, lovingly outlining the burgeoning erection he made no effort to quell. "Well then," he began. "I hold your vowels for the sum of not quite two thousand pounds, cub."

"My father..."

"He's refused to advance you the money, hasn't he?" He was quite proud of the sympathy that laced his tone. St. John met his eyes, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Yes. He said that...I have to live within my means. I can't pay you, I'm sorry."

"A debt of honor isn't a small thing. A debt to your tailor can be neglected, a debt to your vintner, even. But a debt of honor, a gambling debt between gentlemen? Surely you understand that to welsh on such a debt is a matter of integrity. Why, you'd be black listed from all the clubs!"

"I haven't the means to pay you. I can make a partial payment if you could see your way to waiting until quarter day."

Slender hands kneaded the chair arms. How would those fingers feel on his body? Cool and gentle? Were they soft as a woman's, or did the white gloves hide calluses from riding? Was his touch the sure touch of a fencer, the rough careless touch of an arrogant youth? Longing to find out, shaking his head gently, Gavin corrected the boy. "You can't pay me in pounds, you mean."

More nervous lip chewing taunted Gavin, who wanted nothing more than to tilt the young man's chin up so he could nibble that plump lip himself. Gavin waited, but no other option seemed to be forthcoming. Hopefully the lad was more imaginative in bed than he'd proven to be at finding his way out of debt.

The clock ticked away in the quiet. At last he broached the repayment method he'd had in mind all along. "Tell me, St. John, you were educated at Eton, and Oxford?"

Tipping his head charmingly to the side, a faintly puzzled expression crossing his face, St. John assented. "Yes, but..."

"While you were there, did you happen to have any..." He paused delicately, allowing his ungloved hand to fall into place alongside his now fully erect prick. St. John's eyes widened and his gaze darted frantically around the room. "Tutors, or professors, or...other boys, who—"

"No! I ..." The pallor was replaced by a deep red flush as St. John comprehended his words. "I never..." Dewy blue eyes met his again, soft lips parted enticingly. "Please."

The whisper was accompanied by a ducked head. Gavin reached out and caught the other man's wrist. Guinea gold curls shaded the man's face, but Gavin could feel his excitement in the rapid pulse beneath his fingertips. "There is a way that you could repay the debt, you know. Something so simple and it would satisfy the requirements of honor."

He didn't imagine the quick flick of pink tongue slicking St. John's lips. There was no resistance to his tug on the thin wrist. St. John slid from the leather chair cushion to his knees on the deep blue carpet without complaint. Gavin relinquished his grip and waited, to see if he'd jump to his feet and race off.

When Bernard made no movement to flee, Gavin unlaced his trousers and rearranged his small clothes so that his prick, protesting its confinement, sprang forth, fully erect and flushed with arousal.

He took pleasure in the startled gasp St. John gave. Taking himself in his palm, he stroked his full length, letting his eyes drift shut as pleasure soaked through him. A faint rustling of clothing came to him through the rush of blood in his ears. A cool touch, sans glove, but warm and firm, closed over his own. He pulled his hand away and glanced down.

St. John was eye to eye as it were with his prick, gazing upon the thick rod with evident admiration. Whatever reluctance he had harbored seemed to have melted away, as he explored the length and breadth of Gavin's prick with curiously gentle touches. His fingers skimmed over skin stretched tight, tracing bulging veins and tangling in the thick dark curls that surrounded Gavin's manhood.

"Yes, just..." Gavin murmured softly, not wanting to startle the absorbed young man from his task.

The pink tongue slipped out again from its warm cavern, and Gavin groaned, watching it wet lips he himself desired to kiss. Later, he promised himself. His glance fell on the stirring of St. John's prick, and he smiled. Bracing himself with his palms on the edge of his desk, he leaned back farther, thrusting his hips forward at the same moment he spread his legs, granting more space to the exploration.

An indistinguishable murmur greeted his action. With shaking fingers, anxious not to disturb his lover, Gavin reached out and petted the shining gold curls. Soft, smooth silken strands slid through his grasp like liquid gold. Sighing, he coiled them about his fingers, crushed them in his grip, and savored the texture. "Bernard," he whispered.

The pink tongue that had taunted him flicked out and touched him, between crown and shaft, a tiny flick then darted shyly away. Gavin gasped. "Good...more?" He coaxed softly.

Again, a teasing little flicker of wet heat slid along his length, then another, short, timid licks at first, then gradually long, luscious strokes of tongue against him, sliding around from top to bottom, side to side, driving him slowly wild.

"I want your mouth."

Bernard opened up and Gavin guided his prick into the warm cavern. Fingers dug into his thighs, burrowing beneath his breeches. He gasped at the touch of pain as fingernails scored his flesh.

He eased further in, backed off. Gavin gazed down, enjoying the sight of plump lips stretched to a thin pink line around his cock. Bernard's tongue rubbed against the thick vein underneath as Gavin slid slowly deeper and then retreated again. Gavin moved one hand from Bernard's hair to his shoulder, squeezing softly. Encouraged, Bernard grew braver nibbling on the tip of his cock then pressing his tongue into the slit before tracing the heavy ridge around the head.

Gavin let loose a long drawn out groan. He thought about Marcus's mouth that morning, enjoyed the differences in his lovers' touch. Bernard became bolder, sucking hard. Gavin pushed deeper into his mouth, sliding over his tongue, bumping the back of his throat. Bernard grabbed Gavin's legs again, balancing himself.

Thrusting his hips slowly Gavin worked into the warm wet cavern, filling his mouth over and over. They settled into a smooth rhythm, sliding together. Staring down into deep blue eyes, Gavin moved faster, pushing deeper, groaning his pleasure when Bernard accepted his movements. His cock swelled harder, orgasm eminent. Gavin froze, gasping for air, fingers tightening. Bernard swallowed around the head of his cock. Biting his lip to hold back a shout, Gavin pulled out, spewing seed over Bernard's face.

Whimpering softly Bernard settled onto his heels; slowly releasing Gavin's hips and dropping to his thighs. Catching his breath, Gavin reached down to help Bernard to his feet. Assuming permission, he drew the younger man close, unfastening his tented trousers with one hand. Bernard whimpered softly, hips thrusting helplessly, offering himself to be touched.

"Yes, that's it," Gavin murmured. "Now do you see how I can be repaid?"

"I..."

"Agentleman pays quite highly for such privileges, and from not quite so talenteda source."