The Shooting Season Page 9

  “I would like to make it my business.”

  Those words stopped my anger in its tracks. The atmosphere between us sizzled and I fought for breath.

  I spoke on with the utmost care. “If what I seek was…discovered… made public… it would see me barred from my Church…from polite society. I would be abandoned, left out in the cold. Do you think any would do business with a man such as I if they knew of my indecent thoughts and deeds?”

  Cavell continued unfazed. “You want to own a phallic artifact that has been used in sexual rites over hundreds of years.”

  “You have it, don’t you? You stole it from Euan’s bedchamber after setting the chimney in the Great Hall alight.” I accused.

  “The fire was nothing to do with me, dear heart. That is all on Euan for not paying the chimney sweep! It was an excellent distraction though!” Sebastian mused.

  “Did you know there was a scroll in the box? It was written in Greek. There appears to be a ritual and an incantation for using the Staff as a cure-all through sex. But as I said, you are a celibate, religious man so I am confused as to why you want it so badly.”

  I pursed my lips. I could not explain why I wanted the Staff. It was far too personal and would not trust Cavell with my deepest secrets. It riled me, the way he made my blood boil at times, and he seemed to take pleasure from it. Cavell had stolen the Staff anyway and would return it to whoever he believed was its rightful owner. While it was flattering that Cavell had seen fit to seek me out I was exhausted by the whole sordid affair of Lord Ardmillan’s ill-gotten gains, and it was time Mr. Cavell got dressed in his own clothes and left my room.

  The Gift

  I stood abruptly and walked towards the bathroom to retrieve his garments. I heard Cavell follow me.

  “I do find I am magnetized by secret things,” He said, “And you, dear heart, seem so tightly stitched up. I wonder, did your valet sew you into your undergarments to prevent you from taking pleasure from your own flesh?”

  Who did this young whipper-snapper think he was to address me so? I turned to face him, and to my astonishment, Cavell backed me up against the bathroom door.

  “So buttoned up, so restrained, Benedict.” He purred, “Makes it much more interesting when a man like you comes undone”, he said cupping me with his long-fingered hand. He was touching me in my most intimate place and my whole body was aflame. I did not want to meet his hazel eyes, and yet I could not look away.

  “This is between you and me, dear heart. No one knows I’m here, the door is locked, and we are safe. Let me give you the pleasure you deny yourself.”

  The warm pressure of his touch and his words made my cock stiffen. I licked my lips. The right thing to do was to step away and give this cur a shiner, but I found my feet were glued to the floor and I could not move from the heat of temptation. Sebastian was kneading my growing bulge with practiced fingers. He knew exactly how much pressure to use to make the ache of pleasure swirl within my gut.

  “I see you, Benedict. I see you for the man you are… and he is wonderful. Let me please you.”

  I had never heard a man say silken words like that to me before. I was in my fifth decade and believed I was undesirable and invisible. Oh to be seen, to be desired. When the shroud of my religion was pulled away these were my deepest darkest wishes. I wanted to be seen, to be recognized as a virile, attractive man. I wanted to be desired, to be...touched. Cavell knew what I wanted to hear. I met his hazel-eyed gaze and saw the glint of gold reflected from the raging fire in the hearth… or was that his passion? His words had melted my steely core. I didn’t know or care about whom in society thought my needs indecent, for all common sense and fear of sin drained from me as Sebastian toyed with my prick and made me stand hard in my trousers.

  Sebastian wanted me. He wanted ME! And if I was to sin then I would do it with a man who saw me for who I am and still desired me.

  Sebastian Cavell—renowned master thief had me in his grasp. He was in control and as he leaned in to place his lips upon mine. I knew I would not fight it. Out of habit, I closed my eyes so that I was in the dark. Sebastian tasted of pipe tobacco, smoke, and Port. His kisses were tender and gentle. It was almost as if he expected me to protest and pull away, but so entranced was I by his fingers tracing the outline of my growing shaft and his lips upon mine.

  Sebastian ended the kiss.

  “Open your eyes, Benedict, dear.” He said. I did so, but I felt somewhat removed from myself and in a dreamlike state.

  “I came to Scotland to claim a prize, and now it seems I will have it. The only thing that the new Lord Ardmillan ever had that I wanted… was you!”

  I was stunned into silence.

  “Shall we get you out of these?” Sebastian said, moving his nimble fingers to unhook the catch and buttons on my trousers.

  Again, I did not protest, I did not assist. I could not allow myself to touch him in return for then I would be lost.

  Some would say my desire to lay with men was the product of a mental disease, a sinful nature or a damned soul, but when Sebastian stripped us of our clothing, laid me on the bed and clambered naked atop me I knew I would rather be a sinner than live another day without the hard warmth of his masculine form pressing me into the mattress. Sebastian was not like Euan. He did not seek to gamahuche me so I would spend quickly to please him. Sebastian was a tender lover. He took his time. He removed my silver cross and placed it safely on the bedside table, and then he touched me—and I did not protest. His fingers traced my burning skin and he kissed me in places I had never been kissed before and I discovered that they elicited exquisite sensations. How was I to know that the backs of my knees and the soles of my feet were so sensitive that when Sebastian kissed and licked me there I had to pull a pillow over my face and howl my pleasure into the goose feathers?

  I needed to reciprocate, to give him as much, if not more pleasure than he was giving me and so, my defenses melting like snow against the warmth of his passion, I reached out and caressed his face. Sebastian met my gaze. He looked a little startled that I had taken the initiative to touch him, and then he smiled. I tentatively mapped his face with my fingers and he turned into my touch and kissed my palms, his mustache tickling all the while. I was unable to fathom how this man came into my life, my bed, and made me feel as though my years of loneliness could float away like snowflakes on the wind.

  The way he looked at me filled me and made my heart fit to burst. If this attraction was a sin, I was a happy sinner. I ran my hands over his sharp bony shoulders and down his smooth, warm back. I traced the shape of his taut buttocks and squeezed. I felt his member, hard and ruddy, throbbing and leaking pre-ejaculate against my belly. I put my hand between our stomachs and lined our pricks so the silky moist skin would slide side by side as we rutted. Then I claimed Sebastian’s mouth in a hungry kiss and began to push up against him.

  Sebastian moved atop me like a boat cresting the waves, and such a stormy sea I had never sailed. Wave after wave of pleasure hit me and eventually when I shot I felt like a bullet had pierced my heart. I understood why the French called climax Le Petit Mort—The little death, because in Sebastian’s arms with the spiritual release that came with completion, I was liberated from my self-inflicted bonds, free.

  I awoke the next morning wrapped in the warm embrace of the goose down duvet. My lips tingled with sensitivity and I licked them. They tasted of pipe smoke and someone else. Sebastian. I smiled at the memories of Sebastian’s kisses. I opened my eyes to the early morning sunlight peeping through the drapes. It appeared that the blizzard had passed and the world was calm again. I turned in the bed to find to my great disappointment that I was alone. Instead of my lover, yes my lover, Sebastian Cavell, I found a box, a casket that was inlaid with a swirling design in rosewood and ebony.

  I sat up in the bed and reached for the box. I knew by the weight of it what it contained. Sure enough, when I flicked the silver clasp and opened the lid I saw it, that hard black o
bsidian phallus with a carved snake curling sensually around the shaft, and pearls embedded to portray the spill of sacred seed. I removed the Staff of Asklepios from the box and ran my fingers over the object that I had coveted for thirty years. I had wanted it because I believe it could heal me of my lust for a male bedfellow. However, after a night in the arms of Sebastian Cavell, the Staff no longer held the significance I had given it before. I did not believe that what we did was wrong, and I did not want my desire for Sebastian to be taken from me. Sebastian believed that in giving me the Staff I would have what I wanted. It was indeed the best Christmas gift I have ever received. But, although the Staff was a fascinating artifact and would complete my collection, now all I truly wanted was to see Sebastian again.

  I remembered that Sebastian had removed my silver cross from around my neck and placed it on my bedside table the night before. I searched for it, but it was not there. It seemed that my gentleman thief had taken it as a reminder. I found I didn’t mind at all. It was more than a fair exchange for all he had given me.

  Monday 28th December 1897

  After an arduous journey taking a train, then coach, and back onto the train where the railway line was free of snow, I arrived back at my townhouse on the twenty-eighth of December. I had completely missed all of the Christmas festivities, and a heavy rainstorm had melted the snow in London to an icy slush. I hoped that my housekeeper had at least saved some of her fine mince pies for me!

  Although the journey was tedious and long, within myself there was a peacefulness of spirit I had never experienced before. I found I was a changed man. If I never saw Sebastian Cavell again it would be deeply saddening, however, he had given me a gift, something that I’d lost years ago when Euan trod my heart into the dust at his father’s bidding. He’d given me back my sense of self, my pride in who I am. Euan had made me feel like there was something wrong with me for loving him so. He was happy with sex and desire, but love was an alien concept to him, and still is. He set a seed of wrongness inside me for feeling love, and that wrongness had festered over the years like a malignant wound. I had come to believe that as a deviant and undesirable that there truly was something not right or proper about me. I did not deserve to be touched because I wasn’t right. Sebastian’s care and tenderness showed me that the problem was not mine, but Euan’s, and, for that matter, wider society. He had cherished me for one night, and done more good for my soul than thirty years of prayer and solitude.

  I wondered where Sebastian Cavell had gone. I knew nothing about the man. He too could have a wife and family who were unaware of his mission to assist those who have been abused and stolen from by members of the aristocracy. If Sebastian did have a wife she would have to be a very understanding woman as I was sure that with all of his guises, he was not home often!

  I sat in my study at home opening a stack of letters and Christmas cards that had been delivered while I was away.

  Mrs. Twigg, my housekeeper was about her chores. I heard her open the front door and then shriek and swear in the most unladylike manner. In fear, I rushed from my study and to her aid. When I arrived I found she did not need my assistance at all, for she was battering an old beggar man who had curled up on my doorstep. I reached out and removed the broomstick from her hand.

  “All is well, all is well Mrs. Twigg, that will do!”

  “It will not do sir, it will not do! I will not have this filthy old man cluttering up my doorstep. I just had Annie scrub that step not half an hour ago.” She ranted.

  “I will deal with this Mrs. Twigg. Please make a pot of tea for two and add a plate of your delicious mince pies. Bring them to my study, quick as you can.” I ordered. My housekeeper glared at me sour-faced.

  “Off you go, Flora,” I gentled, knowing that she liked it when I used her first name. She eyed me as if I had gone a little mad, but then blushed, curtsied and grabbed her sweeping brush from my outstretched hand. She waddled down the hall toward the kitchen.

  I opened the door to see Josiah, the old beggar leaning on the wrought iron railing at my doorstep. He had one hell of a shiner and I hoped that it was stage make-up.

  “Spare a coppa for an old soldier?” He said in his best cockney accent. But the smile that lit his face on meeting my delighted gaze was all… Sebastian Cavell.

  To Be Continued

  BOOKS BY ISOBEL STARLING

  Shatterproof Bond Series

  “As You Wish” (Shatterproof Bond #1) Novel M/M

  Listen to an audio sample: http://adbl.co/2qnXRE4

  “Illuminate the Shadows” (Shatterproof Bond #2)

  “Return to Zero” (Shatterproof Bond #3)

  “Counterblow” (Shatterproof Bond #4)

  “Powder Burns” (Shatterproof Bond #5)

  “Shatterproof Bond” series box set – The first three novels in one ebook download

  FANTASY

  “The Apple Boy” M/M Fantasy

  COMING SOON

  “The Dark Harvest” LGBT Fantasy

  “The Rebel Candidate” (Shatterproof Bond #6)

  SHORTS/ NOVELLAS

  “The Shooting Season”- MM Historical

  “Man Crush” M/M Short

  “Top Hat” (A Sam Aiken prequel) Short story M/M

  “Silken” (An A.L.L. Sidestory) Novella M/M, BDSM, “Fred & Ginger” M/M Christmas short story

  “Back Where He Belongs” M/M Christmas Novella

  “The Christmas Bonus” Christmas Short story M/M

  “M/M Christmas Box Set”

  “Detective Fox and the Christmas Caper” M/M Romantic Comedy Novella

  Pretty Boy series

  “New York’s in Love” (Pretty Boy Series #0.5) M/M

  “Fall Together” (Pretty Boy series #1) M/F, M/M

  “Sweet Thing” (Pretty Boy series 2) M/M

  “Pretty Box Series Box Set”

  Other Shatterproof Bond-related short stories

  “TOP HAT”

  Child protégé Sam Aiken is the youngest student studying Linguistics at Oxford University. He’s the consummate student and thrives on studying. But being so young means Sam doesn’t get to enjoy student life in the same way his older counterparts do.

  When Sam’s elderly Master, Professor Alfred Moxley dies suddenly, Sam finds the professor who is bought in to get him and his classmates through their last few months of study to be more than distracting. Dr. Alexander Deveraux becomes a fascination, and Sam wants to learn more from the young, brilliant, queer professor than just Linguistics!

  ****

  “SILKEN”

  Matthew Fisher loved being a dancer, but his ten-year ballet career came to an abrupt end with a knee injury. He had to find a new way to make a living, and luckily, his sister was friends with Annabelle Ramsay-Aiken, only daughter of property magnate Sir James Aiken. She arranged an interview, and six months on the job training saw Matthew stepping out as a real estate agent for Aiken Luxury Lettings. Now, instead of stretching at the barre, Matthew spends his days inspecting the vacant London homes of their rich and famous clients.

  Losing his dance career left a huge hole in Matthew’s heart, and to fill it Matthew began a Tumblr blog dedicated to his fetish for wearing lingerie. He wanted to give his followers the impression he lived a charmed life, so he decided to use A.L.L properties as locations for erotic photoshoots.

  One of his online followers presses all of Matthew's buttons, and a long-distance, online Dom/sub relationship develops between them. But when the relationship suddenly moves from online fantasy to real-life... can Matthew really submit?

  Audiobooks

  “As You Wish” (Shatterproof Bond #1

  “Illuminate the Shadows” (Shatterproof Bond #2)

  “Return to Zero” (Shatterproof Bond #3

  “Counterblow” (Shatterproof Bond #4)

  “Powder Burns” (Shatterproof Bond #5)

  “Top Hat” (A Sam Aiken prequel)

  “Apple Boy” (The Quiet Work #1)

 
“Detective Fox and the Christmas Caper”

  “MM Romance Christmas Boxset”

  “Fred & Ginger”

  “Back Where He Belongs”

  “The Shooting Season”

  All narrated by Gary Furlong

  Also available:

  “Silken” (An A.L.L. Sidestory) Novella M/M, Narrated by Gomez Pugh

  Available on Audible, Amazon and iTunes

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Isobel Starling spent most of her twenty-year professional career making art in Ireland. She relocated to the UK and, faced with the dreaded artist’s creative block, Isobel started to write and found she loved writing more than making art.

  Isobel is currently working on her twenty-first book.

  Isobel’s books can be found in Audiobook format, and translated in German, French, Italian, and Spanish.

  "As You Wish" (Shatterproof Bond#1) narrated by Gary Furlong won the Independent Audiobook Award for Romance 2018. It is the first M/M Romance audiobook to win a mainstream audiobook award. “Sweet Thing” was also a finalist in the Independent Audiobook Award LGBT category in 2019 and the Rainbow Awards/

  “Apple Boy” is also a Rainbow Awards finalist.

  ****

  https://www.decentfellowspress.com

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