Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Talbot's Ploy by Kastil Eavenshade

Talbot Sauvageot has kept his wicked lifestyle underground for several years, going from one lover to the next. Decedent rake to females by day, passionate lover for his latest male companion at night. When he is forced to flee Paris or face the guillotine, Talbot realizes none of the men he has bedded over the past years burns at his soul like his dear friend Maxime LaRue.
Forced into seclusion in the forest of Bois de Lunor, he receives an invitation from Maxime for their yearly gathering at his estate in Varanguebec. One that Talbot has avoided the past few years. Refusing to submit to a life without love, Talbot schemes to discover if his childhood friend shares the same taste in pleasure as he.
Will Maxime submit to Talbot’s ploy or cast his friend in the shadow of death?

On the patio, Talbot inhaled the heavenly scent of roses. None of Marcel’s changes had taken hold, as if Maxime’s mother willed his icy touch away. Out in the thicket of it, Maxime strolled through the moss-covered rock pathways. Talbot smiled when his friend noticed his presence and quickened his step. The only thing that would heighten the moment for Talbot was a lover’s embrace, but he knew better than to expect that.
“My friend.” Maxime smacked Talbot’s back. “I was afraid you would be too busy whoring through Paris to come.”
Talbot snorted. “I have more refined tastes. As it were, my recent affair ended quite abruptly, I fear. I am currently in hiding from a very angry father.”
Maxime laughed. “Excellent, you old rake. Perhaps you and I can sample the local fair before the others arrive?”
“I am famished for such delicacies.” Talbot chuckled. His gaze traveled the length of Maxime’s physique before peering off into the garden. “Your mother’s hand was like an artist plying their trade. It is still breathtaking after all these years.”
“My father does not speak of her.” Maxime sighed.
“Your father is a fool. He did not give you time to grief before sending you off. Not that I minded your company at the mansion of my tutor.” Talbot grinned.
“Hah. You barely remember my presence. Monsieur LaVigne had you under thumb for all your pranks.” Maxime waved for Talbot to follow him down the path to the gardens.
“I quite enjoyed myself, yes.” Talbot sucked in a breath, Maxime’s waistcoat the latest fashion and short enough to give him ample view of his muscled behind. The growing bulge in his breeches threatened to betray him. Talbot whisked his thoughts away.
“It seems someone cannot wait for us to hunt a willing vixen.” Maxime smirked and glanced briefly at Talbot’s tightness.
“Pardon, my friend, I have had a long journey without the aid of release.” He covered his growing manhood.
“No worries, Talbot. Come.” He crooked a finger. “Remember that hideaway place where you and I would indulge in manners that would have our fathers cracking a switch over our offending hands?”
Oui. Some of the best times had by defying our fathers, eh?” And the sight of your cock, Talbot added inwardly. “For our part, we did bring back a stag or two on our hunts.”
“You are a better shot than I, thankfully. Shall we make ready for an evening in the village? ‘Twould do ill to your reputation to finish before satisfying your lover.”
Talbot’s hungry gaze flitted the length of Maxime’s body as his friend turned his back to go further down the trail. The familiarity of the scenery and the chance to see what a man Maxime had become excited him. In a copse of trees, hidden from plain sight, the cabin made of limbs and vines stood out to him.
“Enjoy yourself, my friend. I still have a few amenities inside.”
“I cannot believe your father never found this place.” Talbot laughed. His hand glided along the outside seeking the one cluster of branches that would give him entry.
“My father never found out about a lot of our adventures.” Maxime picked up a few pebbles off the ground and tossed them into the thicket.
“We learned a lot from each other, mon ami.”
Talbot smiled as the opening revealed itself. He squeezed through. Inside, the natural bench made out of a few flat stones stood on one side and a thick tallow candle rested on a thick root. When they hunted in the forest, the small space became shelter from a passing storm or a place to rest without worry of being found by Maxime’s father.
They also used it for more sinful urges, something Talbot’s father found a natural habit that needed taming by a skilled courtesan and one that Maxime’s father thought a repulsive indulgence for those bound to the service of Hell.
Talbot opened the front of his pants, and his cock spilled free. His fingers caressed the tip before he rubbed the tallow to use as a barrier and natural lubrication. Through the tangled vines, he spied Maxime glancing back periodically. His perfect lips and defined shape captivated Talbot.

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