Paint Me A Fairytale

He liked to paint. Anything— no, everything— from animals to people to nature or even fantasy! Whatever his mood entailed he would draw out, then seek a brush in which to detail the piece with color. He would carefully glide those thin bristles across the white canvas he chose to use and make the art behind the wall come to life. And the way his green eyes sparkled magnificently as he lit up his own imaginary sanctuary— it all felt worth it.

His job was not to clean the walls. He had never found in the manual where it told him, the second footman, to clean the walls. It was usually the job of the house maids, if he remembered correctly. They were responsible for cleaning the rooms.

Yet he found himself staring at the white pigment floating in the bucket before him; his own paintbrush at the ready. Carefully, he dipped in the tip and swirled the white liquid around the brush’s head in an attempt to avoid dripping the paint upon the recently waxed floor. He rolled over his thoughts about his young lord as he bowed on one knee to undo the damage that had been done.

He’d been there only three months now. Among the many servants that roamed Cornwall Castle, Riff was proud to have been made second footman. Yes, second. He was not the first, but he didn’t think he’d get much pleasure out of trailing the elderly butler around anyways. No, instead Lord Alexis had assigned him what he considered the best position in the house. He was responsible for the well-being of Lord Cain, and sometimes his father too.

The little boy was currently occupied reading one of his leather-bound books in a gorgeously-carved, crimson-cushioned chair, one of which Lord Alexis normally occupied. However, while his father was away visiting with distant relatives, the raven-haired boy had insisted upon sitting in the drawing room before a warm fire. His beautiful, poison-green eyes had been so full of light and happiness at the mere idea that Riff found it impossible to say no. He could only meekly warn Cain of what trouble this could put him in, but the ecstatic boy had slid off the counter and was off before Riff had even finished his warning.

Smiling to himself, Riff made white streaks to cover the large mural of a giant-winged eagle. He stood back a little and examined the muscular bird which wrapped its wounded, chained wing around a smaller baby chick. The other tortured wing stretched outwards, pinned to the wall by a painted nail. He traced long, white fingers smoothly over the taller bird’s beak. Cain was an amazing painter for a boy of merely eleven.

Riff always made it a point to decipher these paintings as they were good insight into his young master’s feelings. He was sure this one had something to do with Cain’s comment that he, Riff, was now trapped inside his cage. But why the boy would make the older bird chained to the wall was beyond him. Maybe that was his way of saying Riff belonged to him? So the little, shy bird hiding behind the eagle’s big, protective wing must’ve been Cain.

Most people would assume it presumptuous of him to make these judgments without asking Cain, but he touched the wall and closed his eyes. And, in those few short seconds of darkness, he could almost breathe in the thoughts flickering through Cain’s mind as he poured himself into his art. Cain was no good with words, but when it came to expression through other, more physical means, the young earl could easily express himself.

He made another stroke to follow the first and chased a droplet that ceased to stop running for at least another few inches. Sighing, as he stopped the running liquid from spilling onto the floor, Riff continued on to make a third stroke. Honestly, the paint job would take hours to cover the dark hues Cain had chosen, but he accepted it.

Those eyes kept him going. No matter where Riff went, he could always see those unsettling eyes set upon him. He had tried alcohol in university once. The light-headed, loosening effect it had created in him then was the same he got from those emerald orbs. They were like nicotine in addiction and alcohol in feeling. Sometimes he found himself lying awake at night thinking of those eyes…

And then there were the scars that lay like livid reminders across Cain’s otherwise satin back. He shuddered as the sound of the whip cracking through the air echoed in his mind. The other sounds of Cain’s sorrowful sobs and cries of pain followed after them. Riff shook his head to dislodge the sounds as he felt his face grow hot with rising anger. He couldn’t help but want to keep that small angel from his father’s whip, even if he knew it was futile. His father hit him at least a couple strokes per day, but Riff knew if Cain had been caught doing anything that was incorrect he would be punished even more.

In his lonely world, Riff was the only ally Cain had. He had seen a maid come in the study as he was serving his lord tea and tell Lord Alexis that Cain had left mud everywhere in the bathroom. He had been trying to clean himself up for lunch, but had failed to clean up behind him. It wasn’t even the poor boy’s job and he was sorely punished for her lack of wishing to work. He couldn’t see Cain in trouble; he didn’t like the wild look of flight that filled those wide eyes when he was told he’d done something wrong. And sometimes… sometimes Riff felt like Lord Alexis made him deliver that news to Cain on purpose…

Riff shook his head again to dislodge the thought. Alexis only made Riff tell Cain that he was beckoned by his father immediately, because he was responsible for the young lord’s welfare. Although… sending him into a hellish aroma bath of rose petals and blood hardly seemed beneficial to his welfare. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, so he went back to painting the wall and focusing on making it neat and precise to a point Lord Alexis would never notice that an area of his son’s room had been refurnished.

______________________________________

Cain lay on his four-poster bed completely nude. It was early morning and by ‘early’ it meant he was awake at a time when not even the birds had come up to sing their songs. There was no light in his room accept the stray beam that floated in from the semi-open curtain.

He was rather too terrified to search the mansion at a time like this when the moon loomed so close to the window. Cain was sure if he walked out onto the veranda he could reach out and touch the full belly of that majestic orb. But he really didn’t much want to be sent to hell like his father for attempting to touch God’s domain.

Standing up, he strayed outside nonetheless. The cold air nipped at his body and he rather enjoyed the way it circled, then clung to parts of him that only moments before had been covered in a light perspiration. He shivered as its lacy fingers trailed around rather inappropriate places that only he, Riff, and the night air had ever been allowed to touch.

Stifling a yawn, Cain wearily searched the empty garden below him. He knew Riff wouldn’t be there, but he might as well try to find him. Truth be told, he had gone to bed rather early tonight. He retired at five in the afternoon solely because he had sent Riff on an errand that would take him awhile. By the hours he had grown bored and so, at five, had decided time would fly only if he slept, since he wasn’t enjoying his own silent company.

Why had he sent Riff out again…? Oh, yes. Delilah. There had seemed to be some suspicious news floating around about Eastbury Manor that involved an incident killing the young, widowed mistress and a high bid on the property. He had also heard that the young lady had claimed the place to be haunted by a ‘magnificent spirit with brilliant, light-blonde hair that cascaded only like an angel’s’. He grimaced at the thought that she could have been referring to his twisted, half-brother, Jezebel Disraeli.

Crehador might know more information then. Or so Cain felt he would. After all, when hunted by a spirit, why not call upon a medium to see what could be done for the restless soul…?

He ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed; done thoroughly searching his garden for the missing valet. Where had Riff gotten off to anyway? Surely finding one medium was not this much of an issue for his beloved servant…

___________________________________________

Riff stood outside in the cold, drizzling London weather. He wished he could be home right now as he pulled his thin, gray jacket closer to his body in a failed attempt to keep warm. After many hours in the streets, his jacket had magically lost the vital ability to keep warm when it had started to downpour shortly after he took his leave from his lord’s presence.

He stared at the soaked piece of paper in his hand. Squinting his eyes and bringing them closer to the paper, he briefly read what looked like many squiggles. Some had nice, slanted lines drawn through them and the last unmarked word looked like one ‘Metrop’ followed by loose lines.

He rubbed at his arms in another useless attempt to warm himself up. Looking up he stared at the sign looming over head: Metropolis. This was probably the place he needed to be right now… and probably another one of Crehador’s rather questionable hangouts. At the very least, that was the opinion that grew on him from the music coming from within the shelter and the shadows dancing on the frosted window.

Before going out searching for Dominic Crehador as Lord Cain had asked, Riff had paid a visit to his residency. The footman who answered the door politely wrote him a list of places his lord could be, but he wasn’t sure if he had already left England or not. Riff asked him where he would’ve gone, but the young man told him he had no idea and that it was not any of his business to pry into his master’s business.

Riff rubbed his temples. He was tired of watching girls throw themselves at him for a temporary moment of love which his money would sell them. And no matter who he looked at now, all he could see was his young lord’s fluid, cat-like movements, feel his teasing caresses and kisses, and hear those beautiful words which could seduce him. There was no doubt about it— he was hard. Or, at least, he had been. He had taken a rather necessary break from it all to cool off in the rain and, really, that was why he was paying now.

He opened the door carefully and stepped into the smoke-filled atmosphere. If he could make this any quicker than he could return home to his waiting lover and put his rather pent-up energy to some good use.

Riff approached the counter calmly and kept his eyes solely ahead of him. He pulled a picture out of his wet pocket and held it up in front of the bartender’s face. “Excuse me, sir, but have you seen this man? His name is Crehador and I believe he frequents your club.”

The man calmly swirled the dusty rag in the mug he was cleaning and stared blankly at Crehador’s face. He shook his head slowly, “Never seen him.”

He turned around and Riff made a noise of annoyance. Searching through his wallet, he found the leftover money he had. He sighed, this was not going to be good for the expenses he had…

“Are you absolutely sure?”

The man stared greedily down at Riff’s pale fingers, which held the money to the table. He put the glass down next to Riff’s hand and smiled rather lecherously at him.

“Oh, yeah, I remember him. Nice man came in with a load of money on him.” Riff knew he would remember him if money were brought into the picture. Why did they always remember when money was put into the equation? He stared at the man’s crooked, broken teeth in disgust and decided it best to remain looking at the man’s eyes. “He spent time with Maggie yesterday.” He hinted towards a girl with wavy, brunette hair, who had on a tight-fitting, pale yellow dress that emphasized her bossom and extenuated her voluptuous curves. “She can be with you shortly, but she costs a pretty penny.”

“Thank you,” Riff snorted in disgust, picking up the money he had placed on the table. The man called out in distress at the loss of money and even gave the manservant a colorful, new name, but Riff ignored him. Apparently, he would need this…

He sat at a table and waited until he could catch the young lady’s attention. A young lady with a short dress that showed the rim of her ass approached him instead.

“Hello, sir,” she winked at him as she came to stand beside him, “What can I get for you this lovely evening?”

“Madam, I would be of great appreciation if you would be so kind to beckon the young lady in the yellow dress my way.”

“Oh, of course, sir. But I was thinking more in terms of drink. I serve the alcohol here.” He looked up at her a little better and noticed the cash that protruded from her enlarged breasts. He was positive, she was using the money as a way to make her boobs look bigger at the same time as pleasing her customers.

“Get me anything hard.” Riff commented, smiling up graciously although inside he felt like he was in turmoil. He probably shouldn’t drink anything, but one couldn’t hurt him at a moment like this. Not when he was stressed out beyond belief and he also felt like he could use something that would loosen his tensed muscles.

“As you wish.” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek before turning around and walking off slowly and seductively. If only she had realized he wasn’t watching her for that purpose.

The blonde carried her tray over to the stripper dubbed as Maggie and bent down to pick up the customer’s empty cup. She whispered to Maggie and he saw her turn her green eyes on him. He shuddered. Those eyes… A flash of Cain’s golden eyes echoed through his mind and he shivered as he remembered those promising whispers he was fond of speaking of. Maggie winked at him as the girl left, but turned back to her customer instead.

He watched her place her arms on the table and lick at the other man’s ear. Her red-painted lips moved seductively, brushing against the sensitive skin and Riff felt a heat brush uncomfortably across his cheeks. The way her mouth moved, the way she leaned forward, he groaned as he felt a wave of tingling pleasure soar through his groin.

Groping at the table, he started to tap his foot in impatience and as a means of distraction. He became uncomfortably aware though that the motion of his leg striking the floor left a trail of sensation to run through his pelvic. He bit his lip and moaned as he flushed at the inappropriate thoughts running through his mind. What he did with Cain behind closed doors was already something to be a hidden secret between two lovers. Thinking about it in such a public place made him feel even more aware of the condemnation and sin that society felt it was. And that made him crave to take the young earl more.

His hand drifted to his pants and he fiddled with the round button that had the earl’s seal on it. It was customary for a servant who was seen to where a button with his master’s family seal, but Cain had found it a rather amusing idea that Riff’s pants included the décor. After all, all of him belonged to Cain now… even if it had always been like that.

He traced the familiar pattern and slid the button out of its respective holder. Gently guiding the zipper down to the bottom of its resting place, Riff shifted his gaze embarrassedly around him. However, he was far from seeing anything now. The only thing that existed for him was the pulsing sensation in his cock and the erotic image of Cain gasping his name as he lowered himself between the boy’s legs.

Riff let his right hand grab his sensitized member hard— a pale imitation to the tight fit that Cain’s small ass provided him. He let a sweet moan escape his lips as he began massaging the foreskin coating his cock with his thumb. He squeezed hard and let his head fall back as he thought only of Cain beneath him, moving in rhythm with his thrusts, asking him, begging him to be harder, rougher.

His hips jerked forward into his grasp and he felt the foreskin move backwards in response to the now raging fire burning in his penis. He traced a circle over the head of his now exposed dick and bit his lip as he pinched the responsive tip. The image of Cain’s love bites trailing the area made him skittish inside and he bucked his hips forward again.

He gasped out as he stroked himself roughly— uncaring that now he was beginning to rub the flesh raw. All he wanted was release. All he craved was Cain to be down in front of him, under him, receiving Riff’s every hungry thrust.

“You want a room to yourself?” he felt a delicate hand rest upon his shoulder and he let out a sharp cry of surprise.

Quickly letting go of his cock, Riff struggled to zip up his pants as Maggie watched him fiddle with his arousal. She laughed at him when he pinched the skin in the zipper. He felt his face burn greatly as he pulled himself out of his own zipper and shoved his cock back into his pants. Getting the button back into place with shaky hands proved to be too much and she moved to slip it back in for him.

He turned his face away embarrassed that he had been caught in such a vulgar act and mentally beat himself up for the fact that he had thought it would be okay to do in the first place.

“Here’s your drink, sir.” The blonde waitress bounced up next to the two and placed it down on the table. Riff, for no other reason than to throw off his mortification, chugged the cold liquid and slammed it back down on the table before she had left. “Well,” she started, surprised, “I’ll go get you another.”

Maggie, the brunette girl whose eyes made him think of Cain’s, slipped onto the table in front of him. She straddled her legs on either side of him and he could clearly see the frilly bloomers she had on underneath. Cain never wore undergarments…

“Don’t be embarrassed.” she told him, leaning forward so he could get a good view of her framed breasts. “A lot of our customers come here to do precisely that at our shows.” She gave him a foxy smile and trailed fingers along Riff’s chest, “Then… others come here to get lucky.”

“H-Have you seen this man?” Riff asked a little too quickly, “I’m here to look for him. His name is Crehador. Apparently, he was a customer of yours recently?”

She looked at the picture and stared at it blandly. “Depends,” she cooed, moving her hands to trace the back of Riff’s neck, “Does the master have any money for a poor girl such as myself?”

He stared at her blankly for a few minutes before he realized he was being called ‘master’ and was probably one way for the girls here to arouse their male clients. He groaned as he remembered Cain gently teasing him about their role reversal in the bedroom. Why did he keep thinking about Cain? The thoughts were really clouding his mind.

The second frothy beer was brought to him and he took a quick sip as he pulled out the cash he had used to bribe the bartender earlier. He slipped it to her on the table and she lifted her dress up her leg to slide it into her panties. She offered him the job, but he politely refused as he became self-conscious that her every action was driving him to want Cain more.

“Alright,” she said, tucking away the money and ‘unconsciously’ forgetting to move the dress back down, “Yes, Crehador. Although… he prefers me not to call him that when he comes in here as a customer. He’s rather fond of the term ‘mister’— well, if it’s spoken in a seductive whisper.”

He really could’ve made do without that information… “Where can I find him?”

“Him?” she tapped her chin in a move that suggested of playful innocence, “Oh! He said he was going to France again last week. He wanted to go visit his beloved mother’s grave. The poor, dear heart! He looked rather upset at the sheer notion of his mother!”

“Oh…” Riff highly doubted Crehador was upset about his mother’s death enough to go visit her. After all, if he was that attached, then he would’ve at least mentioned her once or twice to his lordship, Cain.

“You know, the strangest thing happened when he was with me last time…” she leaned back on the table to expose her neck and slope her shoulder down. She got the desired result of one of her yellow strips slipping over her shoulder.

“What happened, madam?” Riff looked at her with interest, but then remembered his manners, “If you don’t mind sharing to an open heart.”

“Well, during the night a man approached from behind us as I was leading him to a private room in the back. He was covered in a mostly white outfit that looked befitting of a priest. But his presence made me uneasy. It probably had to do with his face being shielded by the hat adorning his head. Anyways, he briefly talked with the mister and handed him an envelope before leaving.

“After the other man left, the lord opened the envelope and inside was a letter he quickly read to himself.” She looked at him, “I’ve never received a proper education and so I don’t know how to read well. However, he pulled out a black-rimmed tarot card with the image of a high priestess upon it.

“I was really scared, but…” she seemed to have remembered she was not there to talk about her own worries and concerns, “I believe a strong man such as yourself should be able to protect me from someone such as he.”

She slinked off the table and into Riff’s lap, making sure to rub against his arousal before settling backwards onto his legs. Batting heavy lids, she ran her hands into his light blue locks before pulling his face into a kiss. “How about you retire with me, sir?”

He tried to force the blood from flowing up to his face again as he felt his cock painfully ache from the lack of attention. Yet, it seemed as if the more he focused on not becoming embarrassed, the more susceptible to it he became.

“N-No,” Riff moved as far back in his seat as he could, but she refused to budge off him, “I-I have someone at home.”

She smiled a gorgeous, white grin that was only highlighted by her dark, red lips, “Good for you. I hope you get lucky then.”

She ran her hand up his leg and grasped his cock hard beneath the fabric. Riff let out an alarmed cry as he stood up suddenly. She fell unceremoniously into a heap as the chair clattered to the floor behind him. He turned around and ran for the door as she gently rubbed the alcohol that had spilled on her off her face; she smiled victoriously at his retreating back.
_______________________________________

He had run the whole way home. His cock coursing with the same blood pounding in his ears as his feet practically glided over the cobbled streets in which he’d come from.

By the time he had reached the manor door, Riff found it damnable that his shaky hands weren’t cooperating with the keys to the door. He roughly pushed himself against the door, desperately trying to shove the key into its hole, and he felt his cock brush against the impenetrable wood. He groaned in desperation as he finally slid the key into the lock.

As soon as it was in all the way, Riff turned the key and pushed the door open. He was nearly ready to take off without the key, but he turned back to pull it out of the door. Locking it, he dashed up the steps to Cain’s master bedroom at least three steps at a time.

The door was open. Cain, who had been waiting for Riff, felt it would be easier then for the valet to check to see if Cain was awake or not. He still was, of course, because he had gotten enough sleep already.

However, Cain had retired from the balcony and the chilly, night air, which had finally driven him back inside and into the comforting folds of a bathrobe. Cain sat upon the floor painting flowers upon his wall at an attempt to brighten his living space and his mood. Riff could only focus on the meaning of deflowering from the mural though.

Big hands reached down and grabbed Cain by the arms roughly. Cain dropped the paintbrush in alarm as his eyes widened in shock. He screamed out in fear, but was quickly silenced as Riff’s lips crashed over his.

Just as quickly as he had come, Riff pulled his lips from Cain and lifted him up in his strong arms— giving Cain the impression of being the man’s toy. He entertained the idea of Riff being this rough with his toys when he was a little boy.

Riff traced out Cain’s flat chest and stomach with quick, greedy kisses. He pushed his lips here and there, leaving Cain with the sensation of heat pressing against his still somewhat cold body. Riff, moving lower and lower, ran his tongue along the ridge of Cain’s stomach, in between his ribcage. Cain gasped at the remaining feeling left in the area as his hands tightened on Riff’s broad shoulders.

Cain squirmed within his manservant’s grasp when Riff’s tongue found its way into Cain’s bellybutton. He let out a cry of pleasured shock as Riff swirled his tongue within the shallow hole expertly.

A laugh broke free from Cain’s mouth as his senses finally gathered themselves. He hit Riff playfully on the chest, “You big brute, put me down! Don’t you realize if I screamed any louder you would have the whole household breathing down your neck?”

Cain let his fingers mix into the soft locks that were Riff’s hair as he bent over to kiss Riff’s forehead lovingly.

Riff let Cain slip between his guiding fingers as he continued to kiss every bit of flesh he could reach at before his lord touched the floor. Cain pulled Riff down a little more, so he could kiss the taller man on the mouth more efficiently.

“Now tell me what happened.” Cain commanded, running his finger in a circle on Riff’s masculine shoulder. He liked the way Riff seemed somewhat tense under his layer of clothes. Although… Cain felt it probably had something to do with the way his beloved had greeted him.

“Crehador, milord, is out of the country right now. He went off to France to visit his departed mother. I found this information out from one Miss Maggie, who tends to customers at one of Crehador’s frequented places. She said that the last time he had been with her a strangely cloaked man had followed them and given him an envelope. Inside this envelope were a letter, which she couldn’t read, and a black-bordered tarot reading “The Head Priestess”. That was the end of the information. I suppose we won’t get to know more until the medium returns from his trip.”

“By which time we may not even need the information…” Cain paced the floor in short strokes not meant to take him far from Riff. “But… Head Priestess? Who…? I don’t believe we’ve met anyone of that particular persona—“

Cain let out a squeal as he felt Riff’s hand grope his ass roughly. He laughed as he felt Riff snake his hand within Cain’s robe to get a better cope. Cain unbuttoned a bit of Riff’s shirt, so that he could kiss the man’s shoulder. He trailed his thin fingers along Riff’s collar bone, and moved his head closer to Riff’s ear, “You’re horny, aren’t you?”

Riff forced himself down on Cain’s mouth, using his tongue roughly to penetrate Cain with one quick movement. His lips curved around Cain’s and the latter groaned as he felt Riff’s hot tongue twist over his own needy one. Small hands twitched upon broad shoulders as Riff rubbed the small of Cain’s back and slowly repositioned his hands back to his lord’s ass.

Cupping his hand underneath Cain’s ass, Riff pulled Cain back into the air again. He carefully guided the two of them to the wall and Cain tried to fight for his breathe back, “Oh, Riff—! The wall it’s—“ his back connected with the wall and Cain’s complaint got lost within Riff’s firm lips again. “Wet.” He moaned.

Cain let out a choked cry as he felt strong hips collide rousingly against his over and over. He groaned into Riff, letting his lips tremble weakly against Riff’s warm, smooth ones, as his hands twitched achingly for touch.

“Oh, God, how I missed you—!” Riff moaned into the side of Cain’s neck and the younger of the two shook with the burst of heat that had just washed over his sensitive skin.

Riff pinned Cain firmly between the wall and himself as he pushed his way between Cain’s legs. Cain wrapped them around Riff’s body and flexed the muscles out of pain of being compressed. But it was enough to send Riff over the edge. He felt his muscles shake as he jerked his body forward into Cain and let the warm liquid flow through his aroused member. His arms shook with the effort of keeping Cain up the wall against him and he pried Cain’s legs easily from around his waist. He lowered the boy back to the floor and rested his head into the crook of Cain’s neck, panting with the sweet sensation of finally feeling relieved.

He felt it first before he realized his lord was laughing at him. Cain wrapped thin arms around Riff’s neck and kept shaking with his heavy laughter before he could finally get out what was eating at him, “You, the ever-so-clean servant, cum in his bloomers, much less his pants? No, impossible!”

Riff felt a slight blush linger across his face as Cain’s lips kissed the manservant’s sweat-brushed neck. Cain took a small section of the flesh in his mouth and started to lick at the area. He pushed his lips over the area and began sucking at the skin. Riff moaned as he felt the pulling sensation at his throat pull, like strings, at his cock.

Cain ran his hand down Riff’s pants and wrapped his hands tightly around Riff’s limp member. His butler shook violently beneath him as a somewhat choked cry escaped him. Cain smiled as he begun stroking the responsive head of Riff’s firming, still-wet cock. He finally pulled off Riff’s neck and smiled at the raised, red skin that was before him. He licked the small, circular area gently. He would love to see how his beloved manservant was going to cover this one.

Pulling his hand out of Riff’s pants, Cain pushed himself against the hardened organ as he licked off the salty substance that his lover produced. Moving his other hand down Riff’s pants, Cain applied some pressure to the area as he continued to stroke Riff with his thumb.

Cain let his tongue flicker at his hand before moving his mouth closer to Riff’s ear. He let his tongue dance over the susceptible skin of the addicted man. Cain loved how much of a drug he seemed to be when it came to his valet.

“I want you to stroke me. Not with your fingers, but, rather, I want you to breeze through me. I need to feel you inside me, Mr. Raffit. To feel your big, thick penis pulverize my every sense with wave and wave of pleasure.” Cain moaned as he slid one of his cum-covered fingers within his own ass.

“I-I,” he made his voice husky, begging Riff, “Riffael,” he moaned, letting each syllable drawl out from his voice as he whimpered. He pushed a second finger within his ass and spread them apart to massage the walls soft. “Please. You promised to never leave me. So, then why? Why are we apart…?” Such a dirty promise… he thought to himself with a devilish smirk.

“Come on, Riffael,” Cain moved closer to Riff’s lips instead, gently moving his hand to Riff’s pants so that he could undo them, “I can’t live without you. I crave for you every hour of every day. My senses— Sometimes, I wake up in a cold sweat with nothing but the sweet feeling of how you feel inside of me.” He was being honest, but he hardly minded sharing this information if it meant arousing Riff again.

Cain pushed three fingers into his own ass and quickly added the fourth one. He knew Riff wasn’t going to be able to take much more of his teasing and he needed to be prepared. Also, his manservant was bound to have forgotten all about both of their human limits and Cain wanted to feel Riff in him, not his fabrics.

Removing his hand from his ass, Cain pulled at the fabric on Riff’s shirt. He didn’t care if he broke the buttons. After all, it was Riff’s fault for not wearing a shirt that has buttons that are more easily slipped off. He pushed the white fabric over his manservant’s shoulders and let out an appreciative whistle at the broad set shoulders. Luckily for him, Riff had been into sports before he had come into Cain’s employ.

“Please, Riff,” Cain forced himself to moan as he gently bucked himself into Riff’s cock. He pulled down his servant’s wet pants and bloomers; he hid his smile at the size of his manservant. He was never one to compare, but he felt Riff deserved bragging rights about how much pain and pleasure he could control with his member. He let his fingers trail fleetingly on the head of Riff’s cock.

He moved his lips closer to Riff’s ear again as he wrapped his arms around Riff’s neck. Quietly, almost inaudibly, Cain whispered seductively, “Violate me.”

And how quickly his manservant moved! Cain had always been surprised at how fast Riff worked, but he hardly had time to register that Riff had turned him around and slammed his body against the wall. He gasped as his fingers scratched for some sort of hold as Riff forced his cock in. If he was smaller in size, he would’ve quickly moved right into Cain. But, as it was, Riff moved in slowly as Cain’s muscles squeezed around his thick member.

All he got for his effort at finding a hold was a drying film of purples and pinks under his fingernails. Cain moaned, pushing his head back against Riff’s firm chest as he felt Riff give up moving entirely through him on his first try. He slowly slid out, giving Cain’s body time to readjust around him, before thrusting forward again. Cain’s hands were white trimmed by pink outlines with the force of his hands against the wall.

He felt the head of his own exposed cock stroke the wall and he couldn’t help it when the cooler paint caused him to pre cum on the wall. He felt the heat build up at the base of his cock and he bit his trembling lower lip as he felt Riff’s hips crash into his. A moan tore through his throat as he pushed himself backwards onto the pressure, but he couldn’t escape getting slammed against the wall.

Cain let out a scream as he felt his erect member cruelly collide with the wall. A warm, quivering sensation ran through the nerves in the head of his cock and he felt Riff slam his penis deep within Cain. The younger man let his hands slid against the still wet paint and he grabbed his own cock. He began stroking himself behind the head in time with his lover’s increasingly rapid thrusts.

But Riff wouldn’t have it. He grabbed Cain’s hands forced them beside the raven-haired boy’s head. He growled lowly at Cain and nipped his neck for trying to speed along the bliss that was filling his cock and fueling his soul. He wanted to stay connected to Cain for longer than that.

He pushed in and felt himself slide in more easily. He knew where it was and knew what it would do, so he forced himself at an angle deep within Cain. He got what he wanted. Cain slammed his own body into the wall as he felt an extreme pleasure tingle in the muscles around his groin.

The young earl let out a piercing, elated cry as the tingling sensation reached its climax and floated around the muscles in a lingering pattern. He panted as his eyes glazed with the feeling that had just vanished and left him shaking in its touch.

“P-Please,” he groaned, his fingers convulsing under Riff’s hands, “Riff, harder.”

Riff obliged to his lord’s command. Each thrust grew more rapid in motion and harder in thrust until he was sure that he felt Cain tear slightly beneath him. The said boy screamed his name as the internal, nerve-sensitive skin even moved to his pulsing power.

“Louder, Cain, louder!” Riff yelled out to him, feeling Cain’s muscles starting to contract around his highly sensitized cock. He knew Cain was going through his orgasm and would soon peak.

Cain gasped at the wave of contractions that was causing the wave to travel through the head of his penis. He felt Riff’s finger move into his open mouth and run deep within him. He gagged up a warm bath of saliva over Riff’s fingers as tears strolled down his face. If only he could stay in this paradise of his forever.

He stared unseeingly at the smeared flowers on the wall and couldn’t shake the feeling of Eden as the heat finally built up at the base of his cock. One more stroke of his prostate and the hot sensation burned as it passed through the narrow passage of his cock. He threw his head back and arched against Riff as he felt every muscle contract in an effort to pass the liquid through. The way Riff’s name tore through his lungs left him feeling breathless and quaking for more.

Riff struggled to breathe. He was only aware of how tight Cain could get when he could no longer feel himself move fluidly through the tightening canal. Cain’s muscles held him inside him and he felt like he was suffocating. The only air that filled his desperate lungs was tearing away at his sanity leaving him exposed to an air composed solely of sex, sweat, semen, and Cain.

He jerked his hips forward and felt himself move inch by inch into Cain until he hit the base of his cock against Cain’s ass. He groaned and begun thrusting desperately into Cain until he felt the young man finally hit climax. The way his muscles smothered his penis drove him over the edge and he scratched at the wall, wrapping his fingers around Cain’s as he screamed his name.

The heat flowed through Riff into Cain and, for the brief moment that their names mingled together, Riff knew that their souls were connected. He filled Cain until the semen ran down between his legs and he wished the moment would prove to be less fleeting than it really was.

He jerked forward into Cain a few more times as the young boy’s muscles released their vice-like grip and he emptied himself. Riff kissed Cain’s sweaty neck and even began licking away at the drops as Cain sucked on Riff’s finger like an animal in need.

Riff felt something in his gut stir at the feeling and he smiled weakly as he pulled his limp member from the depths of Cain. He nuzzled Cain and watched the seventeen-year-old suck and nip at the ending of his index finger. Cain smiled at him before biting down hard and Riff felt his cock tingle
unpleasantly.

Cain groaned. He felt Riff’s legs loosing their hold of his weight and the manservant’s knees were pressing Cain’s firmly against the wall. Cain lowered Riff and him to the floor, forcing Riff to sit backwards so that he could sit in between his lover’s legs. He begun massaging Riff’s tired knees and Riff snuggled his face against the crook of Cain’s neck. Cain rubbed his cheek against Riff’s head and the manservant wrapped his arms around Cain.

Cain leaned backwards against his valet and brought a hand up to lie gently on one of Riff’s arms. Letting his head lean back, Cain rested himself on the curve of Riff’s neck and stared at the painting on the wall.

Instead of being frustrated that it was ruined, Cain smiled brightly at it. Sighing, he snuggled in closer to Riff, “Ah, a masterpiece.” He stared at the ruined petals and the broken stems that he was sure littered his body and a bit of Riff’s hands. Turning his head slightly, he tried to look down at Riff, “Can I keep it this time, Riff?”

“Milord,” Riff sighed, his voice laced with a tiredness Cain rarely heard in the manservant, “Your sister will wonder where—“

“I’m keeping it.” Cain stated firmly, pressing Riff’s arm gently to keep him from arguing.

“Yes, milord.” But then… Riff hardly ever needed reminding not to argue with him.

Cain kissed Riff’s fingertips and brought Riff’s fingers up to his mouth again. He gently began to cleanse his manservant’s middle finger in a gentle, cycling wash. He listened to Riff’s tired moans as he stared at the wall flowers feeling a complete, full bliss that he rarely ever felt. A small smile graced his lips as he listened to each rise and fall of Riff’s chest as he lulled himself to sleep.