Before closing the door, I leaned out and was surprised to find no one about.
“Everyone has left,” Seton informed me from behind. “Only the castle guard and servants remain.”
I closed the door and sought my chair.
Seton had gone to the window. “How grand the royal carriage is. I’d never seen such a thing before today. Have you? It made me wish I were a king, if only to ride inside something so splendid.”
“I’ve seen the royal carriage before,” I replied. “You forget, I grew up among such things.”
“And yet you remain with the servants and not in attendance of such a momentous event?” he asked, amused.
I picked up the vest to continue stitching, but my fingers trembled and I pricked myself. I winced and thrust the finger to my mouth.
“Come, you mustn’t be so serious.” He removed himself from the window, came over to me, took my finger from my mouth, bent to his knees, and pressed my finger to his lips.
When I tried to pull away, he laughed and only tightened his grasp.
“Why must you torment me?” I asked, embarrassed to hear the plea in my voice.
“I am the tormentor?” He drew my finger once more to his lips, which he licked slowly so I could feel the wetness of his tongue. “It is you who plagues my thoughts, you who inspires the music I pluck for this court. It is you who torments my passions!”
My breath caught as Seton slid my finger into his mouth. A moan escaped my lips and mixed with the sounds coming from the stables. I tried to pull my hand away and this time succeeded. Seton hadn’t moved but stayed before me on bended knee.
“Let me make love to you and ease the torment in both our hearts. Did you not know it in the moonlight last night? Did you know I did not go home but slept by the pond next to your shop?”
My thoughts flashed to earlier in the morning—Sylvain by the window. Had my brother sensed Seton’s presence? My eyes scanned the velvet and for a second, all memory of how to create the vest fled. I tried desperately to grasp the process of stitching, cutting, pattern, and construction but the harder I tried, the less I seemed capable of remembering. If he was tormented, I was plagued.
“I don’t know what to do,” I continued to stare blankly at the vest. “It is as if I am lost within my own life. If you are lost in the passageways of this castle I am lost in the corridors of my own heart. Which is worse, I cannot say.”
Seton edged closer on his knees. He yanked the vest from my lap. “You have other needs besides those of the needle and thread, and in denying your heart, you have become lost, but how easy it would be to find yourself.” His hands found my knees and pushed them apart, exposing my erect cock, straining the worn leather of my breeches. “I will find you,” he promised. “I will undo what you have so carefully done.” His hands traveled up my thighs and the chair on which I sat squeaked as I squirmed under his touch.
I wanted to shout my want of him, but could only suffer under his touch. His caress besieged me, my body a prisoner to the teasing circles his fingers now drew on my inner thighs, below my cock and balls. When his fingers found one and then the other of the swollen orbs, I grunted loudly and felt my legs begin to shake. “Undo me!”
“I wish nothing more,” he responded, and tore apart the laces at my waist with an animal-like ferocity.
My cock bounded free, engorged and slick with glistening wetness. I heard Seton make a pleased growl in the recesses of his throat. I grabbed the root so it stood straight up and barely touched Seton’s chin.
“Shall I swallow your cock?” he asked anxiously. His pink tongue flicked across his lips in anticipation.
Possessed of some demon, my hands answered his question by finding the top of his head and guiding his mouth to my cock. The way his eyes widened as his mouth swallowed the rigid shaft only enticed the demon inside me, and I responded by bucking up from my seat, forcing the full length of my hardness into the depths of his throat. When he gagged, I moved away, but he resisted my withdraw and forced me back inside. He made guttural noises of consumptive happiness as his tongue slurped nosily around my prick.
“Take me,” I moaned, my hands forcing his head down. I didn’t want it to end. It could have gone on forever. It would have been bliss to die in his mouth, to spew my seed within the secrets of his insides. When I felt his hands reach under me, grab my ass, and yank my breeches to my ankles, I feared I would buckle to his ministrations and spill over, but I resisted only to be rewarded with the incorporation of his hands. One stroked my rigid cock in unison with his oral attentions while the other tenderly tugged at my balls.
“Seton,” I cried out. “I beg you!”
My plea was answered not with a ceasing, for Seton’s rhythmic motion of tongue, mouth, and clenched fist only intensified. My breath came in short gasps. Sweat soaked my shirt. I tried to restrain myself, but when Seton’s hand released my aching sack, pulled my hips forward on the chair and found its way to my ass, I knew a pleasured doom. A finger slid between and found my entrance. The thought of him inside me sent my mind spinning and my pleasured resistance vanished. I succumbed to my release. When I tried to pull myself from Seton’s mouth, he pushed my hand away with a grunt. He
