Infernal Vices (Resurrectionist #3)

CHAPTER 10

SEDUCTION

We stepped into the chilled hallway and I unlatched the front door then opened it. A stiff breeze blew in.

“It has been a most enjoyable evening,” I said as behind me, my light-footed lover offered me a heated look and seductive smile, then crept up the stairs and into my bed chamber. Sound tended to carry in this vast townhouse, which is why having my secret, sound proof room was a boon! I continued my one-sided conversation.

“Yes, it has been a long, trying day. Indeed, I too am glad to see the rain has finally ceased. We should dine at my club again soon. I know, the food is not to Mrs. Twigg’s standard, but let us continue to keep her our little secret, aye!” I let out a laugh, then said, “Good night my friend.” I closed and locked the door, placing the key on a hook by the coat closet, knowing full well that in the pin drop silence of the evening those still awake in the household had heard my conversation. I hoped they would believe Birdie had left the house and I was away to bed.

I returned to the parlour, dealt with the fire, and then did a turn of the downstairs rooms, checking that the windows were latched, and then I turned off all gaslights. These were tasks my servants would usually do, but I did not mind this one time. We had all endured a trying day and all needed our rest.

I climbed the stairs and stepped into my warm bed chamber, closed, then locked the door. Then I let out a breath and relief flooded through me. Sebastian and I were alone at last and finally could be our true selves. The garments Sebastian had worn earlier lay on my bed, with the small round brass spectacles atop the pile. The wheeled bookshelf door was ajar and an inviting soft light emanated from the room within. I unfastened my cravat and collar, then my frock coat, which I removed leaving it on the bed, along with my waistcoat. This day’s pocket watch was placed in a stand on my bedside table. I used the bathroom, then, licking my lips in eagerness, I considered the illicit vision that awaited in my secret room. I stepped in and pulled the door closed behind me.

The walls of the hidden room were dressed in a glorious red flock velvet design with ornate crystal wall sconces, and cabinets displaying my prized ancient phallus collection—and at its centrepiece the Staff of Asklepios! The floor was laid with a luxurious carpet, as I liked the feel of it against the naked soles of my feet. There was a built-in closet that hid a basin for when I needed to wash. Apart from a chaise longue in green silk brocade, there was little furniture. It was my private space, for one use only—secret, sinful pleasure.

Sebastian was naked, leaning against the far wall. My eyes blazed at the sight of him. The play of light from a crystal wall light sent shafts of amber over his lean, athletic chest, making his sparse auburn chest hair and bush glow like spun gold. His gaze met mine and together we lit up, shining brighter than the gaslight. As he watched my approach his long slender fingers moved over his chest, then down where he gripped his hardening prick and frigged it, the tip of his tongue darting out to moisten his bottom lip in scandalous invitation. I watched mesmerized as the glistening plum of his crown was sheathed by his silken foreskin and then reappeared as the skin was pulled back.

“My! Such a beautiful cockstand, you are a gift from the muses,” I whispered roughly, my throat tight with passion as I stepped closer, scrambling to loosen the buttons of my shirt. Sebastian reached out and gripped my braces then pulled me roughly, flush to his naked flesh. Sebastian leered and his eyes gestured down. I bit my lower lip and like a man craving his precious drug I fell worshipfully to my knees in front of my lover. Age and creaking knees be damned, for when I was with Sebastian, I was young again, seduced by blinding desire, driven by the need to unburden the fullness in my heavy bollocks. I looked up and met Sebastian’s gaze, a self-satisfied smile was writ large on his face. He knew exactly how the sight of him undid me and it pleased him. Sebastian ran his thumb over my engorged lower lip and said,

“Open up, lover, I want you to gamahuche me.”

“Yes, of course, yes,” I moaned at the filthy pronouncement. I parted my lips and extended my tongue as if taking communion, and then he fed his cockhead into my waiting mouth. We groaned in unison as his sensitive gland met my moist warmth and the first taste of his bitter, salty, personal flavour exploded on my tongue. I cupped his bawsack rolling his small taut bollocks between my fingers and bobbed my head, tasting him from root to crown. The noises Sebastian made aroused me so. Satisfaction warmed me as I sucked and listened to such delicious whimpers of pleasure. I hummed my eagerness and approval for more, and then opened my throat to permit deeper entrance. Sebastian’s hands were in my hair now, nimble fingers combing lovingly through my inky black curls, pulling them back and collecting them into one hand. He tugged and I gasped at the pain, near choking on the prick in my mouth. My stand twitched inside my small clothes and I looked up, my eyes begging for permission. Sebastian nodded and so I cupped and squeezed myself through my garments to relieve the pressure. I submitted to my lover and let him control the act. My head was eased forward until Sebastian’s slender cock filled my throat once again. My nose nestled in his bush of ginger blond hair and I inhaled the musk of his sex. He held me there for a second until I could not breathe and tears stung my eyes. Then he pulled me off his prick and angled my chin so I was looking up at him, drooling and debauched. There is nothing like the rush of pleasure and power of taking a cock in one’s mouth. It had always been an act I had secretly enjoyed partaking in, no matter how I chastised myself afterward. But my days of self-recrimination were gone. If God had not meant man to love man he would not have given me the gift of Sebastian Cavell.

Sebastian let go of my hair and my curls fell to frame my face. He nodded and bit his lower lip. Wordlessly I knew what he wanted of me. I tossed the collar and cravat uncaringly to the floor. Frantically, I pushed my braces off my shoulders and began to tear at my shirt, my fingers trembling with haste to unbutton and remove the garment. Sebastian’s gaze devoured me as I undressed and the thrill of this wanton voyeur’s eyes on me was empowering. He offered me his hands and I gripped them as he pulled me up to stand. I let my trousers pool at my ankles and stepped out of them. All I wore were my small clothes and socks.

“Take them off too! I want no barrier.” Sebastian demanded as he stepped to the chaise longue and picked up the blanket we had used the night before to cover us as we’d slept entwined. He laid it on top of the luxurious thick carpet and then tossed two cushions down while I collected the jar of Dr. Swift’s Lubricating Unguent and the small bottle containing Oil of Olive we had used before to ease our pleasure.

I joined Sebastian on the blanket and we rolled to our sides, facing one another. “I want you to take me first Benedict, own me, leave your hot spend deep inside my body.” Oh how I trembled at hearing him voice his desires.

“Anything, I’ll give you anything.” We looked into one another’s eyes, and tentatively I reached up and cupped his softly stubbled cheek, caressing him as if he were fragile porcelain. Words stuck in my throat. I wanted to tell him how dear he was to me, how I adored him. I was exposed, vulnerable, and more than a little drunk. I would have to show him with my body. Sebastian’s fingers slid down my flank, and I grunted as he gripped my backside, pulling me closer so our rigid pricks could touch. I peppered kisses on his face, his throat, and his shoulders .

“Oh my love, my love,” Sebastian whispered over and over as he canted his hips desperate for friction. I moved my hand between us to grip us both and Sebastian pillaged my mouth. The heat, pressure, and desire of our coupling made me deliriously high. The outside world, manners, religion, and propriety were all irrelevant when Sebastian was rutting his pulsing stand against mine. We laughed, wrestled, and tumbled until were both as hard as flagpoles. He lay flat on his back, his hardness standing up at full mast.

“Can I touch it?” Sebastian asked. I followed his hungry gaze, not to my prick, but to my cabinet where the Staff of Asklepios was displayed. Curious, I rose, unlocked the cabinet, and retrieved the phallus before sinking back down beside my lover. Greedily, Sebastian reached for the beautiful rod of volcanic glass and compared its size and girth with his own live ruddy stand. The Staff was ten inches in length and four inches in girth, carved in Obsidian. The symbol of the snake was associated with the ancient Greek God of healing Asklepios , and so the snake was represented here with a carving coiled around the shaft and the open maw of the snake incorporated into the bulbous head design. On the tip of the snakes tongue, the largest pearl I had ever seen was embedded, and smaller pearls protruded down the snake’s belly, giving the appearance of the spill of life-giving seed. Sebastian laid the sculpture on his belly beside his erection. The volcanic glass rod looked painfully large and I wondered how the Ancients prepared it for ritual penetration, what with the protrusions of the coiling snake design and pearls. I figured it must be a torturous thing for the submissive in the sexual rituals of those long past days. I straddled Sebastian and together in fascination our fingers entwined, we slotted the staff between both of our throbbing pricks. The volcanic glass against my sensitive skin was cold at first and we both let out a shuddering laugh. But as we gently moved, fingers gripping and manipulating our flesh against the Obsidian, something peculiar happened. My eyes shot up to fix on Sebastian.

“Do you feel that?” I gasped.

“Oh Gods, do I ever,“ he said as he pushed up to watch the erotic spectacle. We each used two hands now to enfold our lengths with the staff between us and eased our grip up and down. The glass phallus seemed to pulse with a throbbing heat and the bumpy snake motif appeared to have…well…melted into the shaft ensuring a smooth glide as our pre-ejaculate leaked and lubricated it.

“Love, do you see?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s as if it were transformed into live flesh,” Sebastian said with astonishment. I leaned in to take his mouth with fevered kisses and the love in our connection seemed to bloom incandescent. We kept the pace, easing our gripping fingers up and down, our flesh trapped between the warm, now smooth glass shaft. “Oh God! I want to be with you forever, my love,” I gasped at the crucial moment, and in unison, we erupted, our spend mingling, drizzling over the strange artefact.

The pleasure of climax then whited out all thought and I floated, no, WE floated, souls entwined, elevated to another place. My thought returned and I wondered if I had died from the sheer pleasure of our coupling.

“A…are you alright?” I stuttered on opening my eyes to see Sebastian had flopped back down onto the cushion, his handsome face locked in a rictus of ecstasy. His eyes opened and shone on meeting mine, and then he smiled, and let out a chuckle. We both looked down then to see the Staff was…absorbing our semen, like spilt milk seeping into a dish cloth. Inside the glass phallus there was a white glowing light.

“What the devil?” Sebastian and I unhanded our softening pricks. He picked up the artefact and together we stared in fascination.

“It’s feels warm and soft, like a real prick, and it seems thirsty for our seed,” he marvelled .

I didn’t know what to do, because something otherworldly, dare I say it, magical had just occurred and I could not explain what my eyes saw or my fingers felt.

I reached out to run a finger down the shaft. “Volcanic glass should not be warm to the touch, carvings should not melt, and our semen should not have soaked into the Obsidian,” I said confused.

“I know. It’s curious, wonderful,” Sebastian voice sounded drugged with languor. The phallus contained a strange power that I could not fathom, but I was not afraid of it. We stroked it together for a minute, as if it were a pet, before Sebastian said, “Here, put it back in the cabinet for protection.” Then he handed the sculpture to me. I took a corner of the blanket and wiped it over the surface of the black glass, but it appeared it was not dirty, and not a drop of our semen remained on the surface or on our skin for that matter as all had been absorbed by the arcane object. I rose on shaky legs and returned the staff to its red velvet bed in the open bottle casket in the display cabinet, and locked it once more.

I sank back down to my lover’s side and we lay facing one another. The sight of him, gazing dreamily at me sent a bolt of heat to reinvigorate my now prodigious member. I had not known such immediate arousal since the first flush of youth. It seemed I was not yet satisfied. I wanted inside him this time. I reached out and drew my fingertips up and down Sebastian’s inner thighs, gaining pleasure from the moans that resulted from my intimate touches. My exploring fingers wandered, massaging his pinkening tallywags, and then moved lower to circle his fundament.

Sebastian’s eyes were closed as he revelled in the sensations caused by my teasing finger. His youthful prick was at a keen full stand, just like my own. “Open the jar of unguent for me,” I requested. Sebastian reached out blindly and his hand landed on the pot. He uncapped it and held it out for me. It contained a mixture of clove oil, camphor, and lavender. I remembered the pleasing burn and Sebastian had writhed so deliciously when we’d used it last night. I ceased my teasing and took a scoop of the unguent. Sebastian placed the cap back on the pot and put it down. I spread the salve around the dusky entrance to his channel and within seconds he was mewling in pleasure at the new slippery warming sensation of my finger at his passage.

I once overheard a crude fellow well in his cups insist that ‘the pleasure of pushing brown is worth a hundred cunnies’ . I had never once wanted to take my pleasure in a woman by the back or front door. I was a back door man, make no mistake, and my attraction was all for men. This fixed belief was ever strengthened by the vision of Sebastian, his pale thighs spread, permitting me entrance to his most secret place. When his body relaxed and permitted my finger to penetrate, we both gasped.

“Another, push another inside,” Sebastian pleaded. I did as directed. Sebastian danced and writhed upon my crooked digits, canting his sharp boned hips to direct me to his precious inner nub. Now that he was suitably stretched, I removed my fingers to a moan of disappointment.

“I shall be inside you as soon as I coat my prick.” I removed the screw top of the oil of olive bottle, Sebastian offered me his open palm, and I poured the oil into it. He fisted my shaft, spreading the oil until I was glistening from root to tip.

“Enough,” I ordered, I could not wait any longer. “Lift your legs to your chest.” Sebastian did as directed easing his knees up, pushing his buttocks out. The erotic sight was splendid. I knelt in front of him, delivered my crown to his entrance, and pushed in. Sebastian cried out and with a rough grunt at the heady, tight sensation, I slid inside, the penetration far easier than I expected on the first thrust.

I took a hold of Sebastian’s knees and encouraged him to wrap his legs around my waist. This allowed me to lie atop him, chest to chest, to kiss him, and watch his every expression as we began our journey into passionate seas.

I was still shocked at the difference in this act with one I loved. Each frantic, sweaty thrust joined us anew. The intimacy, the giving, and receiving, my beloved’s pleasure more important than my own.

I was well into a mechanical pumping rhythm when Sebastian suddenly rolled us over and straddled me as if I was a stallion and he my rider. He rose majestically and eased himself down so my cockhead hit the blissful nub. My hands gripped his hips and I canted up to meet him on his downward thrust. We found a galloping rhythm. I grunted, the sound, almost animalistic, as Sebastian impaled himself again and again on my prick. When my crisis arrived for this second time I called out a warning before I erupted into the hot wet heat of my lover’s body, fulfilling his wish. He moved his hips like a piston and I continued my upward assault until the pearly shower painted his flat belly and marked a line of sparking seed in the dark hair on my chest.

Sweaty, he slumped on top of me as we panted to regain our breath, and then together we laughed. The intensity of our lovemaking was spectacular. I wrapped my arms around my love, and glassy eyed, I looked over at my cabinet where the carving on the Staff of Asklepios had been returned. The shaft glowed as if it had joined us in our lovemaking and was as replete. I shuddered at the arcane nature of the object, feeling the threads of connection to knowledge I could not yet translate.

“It is far too cold to sleep on the floor,” Sebastian mumbled, his face pressed to my chest.

“Agreed. Come, we shall find comfort in my bed tonight,” I said, still a little unnerved by the eerie way the Greek phallus glowed.

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