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It wasn’t anybody’s fault, really. A comedy of errors, as The Bard might say, except for the fact that nobody was laughing.
It all started in Silas’s store. He’d purchased a collection of somewhat esoteric works which, while he was sure would sell eventually, weren’t exactly the usual fare of his regular customers. After a moment spent considering his options he dragged a wooden chair over to one of the bookshelves in the far corner of the store, and stepped up onto its seat so that he could make space on one of the higher shelves.
It was a chair that had taken his weight in such a way many times, there was no reason to expect it to do anything less that day. Except for maybe that it was getting old - not unlike Silas himself, really - and repetitive use in a manner for which it wasn’t designed had put undue stress on its joints.
Silas heard the front leg snap, and had just about enough time to think ‘ Hell ’ before the ground disappeared beneath him. His hip collided with the chair back, ankle twisting underneath him so that he landed on his arse rather than his feet in a puff of dust that really should have been swept by the girl he hired for this exact purpose.
He was winded enough that he didn’t immediately get up, and instead sat cursing unreliable chairs, abstruse authors and his own folly for a good long while. The only saving grace was that he’d sent his new assistant out on an errand, so there was nobody to witness his indignity.
When he finally pushed himself to his feet his hip twinged uncomfortably, and he tugged his shirt out of his breeches to reveal an impressive bruise already spreading across his side. He swore colourfully, and stomped up to his living quarters to see if he had a cut of meat that would work as ice.
It also all started in Dom’s office, with the receipt of a letter informing him of the rejection of his latest proposal for tax reform. The rejection was expected, if disappointing. The none-too-subtle jabs at his moral standing and personal character that accompanied it were decidedly less so.
But of course Silas didn’t know any of that at the time.
Silas let himself through the back door of Dom’s building later that evening, nodding in greeting to the house's cook on his way.
Dom had moved into a larger set of rooms some eight years back with the express purpose of having a library to justify his otherwise too-frequent visits from a bookman. It was a wildly unnecessary expense for a single man, even one in society, and Dom and Silas had argued about it more than once at the beginning. Whilst he was no longer the hardline seditionist he was when they first met, Silas still couldn’t bear to see money frivolously wasted, not when there were so many about London who had so little and needed so much.
Dom had argued that their relationship wasn’t frivolous, and that he would pay any amount to keep it safe. Silas had dismissed that as fanciful nonsense until the next time he had joined the Ricardians for an evening at Quex’s. At the end of the night Francis and Ash had departed for Chamford together, Julius and Harry to their shared lodgings, and Richard and David back to Richard’s townhouse. Dom had watched his friends leave in pairs with a look that was nothing short of wistful, and Silas had felt like an arse of the highest order.
That night he’d taken his pound of flesh from Dom’s own arse in tacit apology, and the next day went to find the doorman to accept the key the man had tried to surreptitiously slip him a few weeks prior.
Dom hadn't yet returned from work, so Silas settled in one of the comfortable chairs near the fireplace and picked up his book - still on the same table he left it when he was last over. He groaned as the plush upholstery cushioned his bruised hip, a hiss of pain whistling through his teeth. He was getting old, no doubt about it. A decade ago - hell, even five years ago - a little bump like this wouldn’t have even been worth his notice, while today it seemed to aggravate more with every step.
The worst thing was that he hadn’t even earnt it in a respectable fist-fight, he’d simply slipped and fell like some doddering old fool.
About twenty minutes later he heard the click of the door at his back. He marked his place, setting his book back down on the table, and stood with a grunt. “Evening,” he said, turning to greet Dom with a smile.
The moment he saw Dom hovering by the door, he knew something was wrong. Tension hummed through the man’s body, from the clench of his fists at his side to the twisted expression clouding his face. He didn’t reply to Silias’s greeting, simply stared across the room, desperate and defiant in equal measure.
Ah, it was to be one of those nights, then.
“Tory, come here,” Silas’s voice dropped a register with new intent. He watched as Dom’s eyes fluttered closed, a vista of relief skittering across his features for just a moment before his eyes opened and his expression hardened.
“No, I don’t want to.”
“And what makes you think I care for what you want?” Silas snapped his fingers, commanding and derogatory. “Here. Now. Or you’ll be regretting it, and make no mistake.”
Every inch of Dom’s body screamed reluctance as he crossed the room with slow, stilted steps. Every part of him except for the prominent bulge already announcing itself between his legs; his fine pantaloons doing precisely nothing to mask his arousal.
He stopped two paces in front of Silas, chin tilted slightly upwards. There was no hint of submission in his either posture or his gaze; tonight he wanted to be taken down, and taken down hard.
For a moment, Silas mourned the night he had thought they might have when he arrived. Silent company reading in front of the fire, comfortable enough in each other’s presence to not need words. Then good food, and better conversation before a full night’s sleep in Dom’s enviably comfortable bed. He shook himself out of it with a silent chuckle, because how could he mourn anything when Dom was standing in front of him, mouthwatering and delectable and every inch of him Silas’s?
“Now, see, you’ve come in here and interrupted my fine evening,” Silas played into his momentary hesitation, giving Dom a leer as he looked him over from head to toe. “So I think you should make it up to me by getting on your knees and giving my prick a good suck, make your presence worth my while, aye?”
A pink flush crept up Dom’s neck at the suggestion, peeking out over the top of his cravat and flooding his cheeks. His eyes darkened with unbridled desire, but instead he raised his head higher and said again, “No, I won’t.”
Silas sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. The gesture knocked his reading glasses askew - he’d forgotten he was still wearing those. “Oh my Tory, why must you make everything so difficult?” he said as he removed his glasses, folding them and slipping them into his pocket with exaggerated care. “Alright, since I’m an upstanding sort of cove I’ll give a choice of how this goes. You can get down on your knees and give me the gamahuching I deserve, nice and easy like. Or, I grab you by that overbred neck of yours, bend you over the side of this chair and take my pleasure with your arse. Much less nice, much less easy.”
Dom blinked once, twice, clearly overwhelmed with the mental image of both of Silas’s suggestions. Silas gave him a moment to fully spiral then coughed pointedly. “Your choice, Tory. What’s it to be?”
Dom dragged his thoughts away from wherever they had gone, focussing on Silas’s face with what looked like some considerable effort. He took a deep breath, hands clenching and unclenching at his side, and widened his stance, bracing for attack.
Silas swore crudely, stepping forwards to meet Dom where he stood. “That’s how it’s to be then?” he asked, reaching up to grab Dom by the scruff of his neck. He curled his fingers through the soft hair and shook him left and right like a dog with a rabbit between his teeth. Dom swayed with the gesture, allowing himself to be dragged rather than bracing against it.
With one great heave Silas spun them both around, shoving Dom over the arm of the chair he’d just vacated. Dom stumbled at the unexpected movement, his chest hitting the armrest with enough force to expel the air from his lungs and his legs scrabbling to keep himself upright.
The gesture caused sparks of pain to shoot up Silas’s injured side, but he ignored them in favour of appreciating the sight of Dom sprawled in front of him. He crowded forwards, pressing himself against the line of Dom’s back. One hand remained tangled in his hair while the other came down to grope at his tented stand.
“So eager for this,” he crooned, his hands ungentle as he palmed at Dom through fabric. “You’d be better suited to working in a molly house than in parliament, isn’t that right?”
“No, stop,” Dom said, making a grand old show of struggling but achieving little more than thrusting further into Silas’s hand. “I don’t want to.”
“Should have thought about that before you rejected my offer of a nice evening spent on your knees then shouldn’t you?” Silas let go of Dom’s hair so that he could use both hands to undo the front fall of Dom’s pantaloons, roughly shoving the fabric down to just below the swell of his arse. The fabric was restrictive around his upper thighs, keeping his legs pinned together, and Silas groaned at the thought of how tight Dom would feel getting fucked in his position.
“Don’t move,” he threatened, crossing the room to collect a vial of oil from where it was stored. He announced his return by scratching his nails roughly across one exposed arsecheek, making Dom hiss and jerk in response. Laughing darkly, he followed it up with a stinging, open palmed smack.
He shoved at his own breeches enough to expose his stand, pouring sufficient oil onto his hand to liberally coat himself but offering Dom’s backside nothing of the same courtesy. He grabbed at Dom’s hips and swiped his slicked cock along the crease of his arse. Once, twice, just enough to get his arsehole fluttering in anticipation before roughly shoving in with one long stroke.
Dom shouted and bucked, his attempt to escape the harsh intrusion thoroughly hindered by the armrest he was pinioned against. Dom was just as tight as Silas had anticipated, clenching around Silas’s prick in a way that made stars burst behind his eyelids. He swore, fingers tightening around Dom’s hips in a manner that was sure to leave bruises they’d both appreciate. “That’s it,” he groaned in satisfaction. “You stay right there looking all pretty-like, and let me take my pleasure.”
He jerked his hips, thrusting deeper into Dom’s heat and making the other man whimper. “This is all you’re good for, isn’t it, my Tory whore?” A short sharp thrust that had Dom keening and Silas’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Christ, but you are good at it, though, aren’t you? I could keep you like this forever, tie you up so you can’t leave, your arse on offer for whenever I might want it. Maybe invite some fine folk over to have their piece when I’m done with you.”
Dom writhed underneath him, responding to Silas’s words or his actions, or more likely a combination of both. Prevented from moving forwards he shoved backwards in futile protest, and somehow managed to catch Silas at an unexpected angle.
Silas couldn’t stifle his pained grunt as his injured hip threatened to give out beneath him, one hand swiftly moving from Dom’s waist to his neck to steady the pair of them. Dom stilled momentarily underneath him. “Silas?” he asked, sounding concerned in a way that had nothing to do with his own discomfort.
And that wouldn’t do, not in the slightest. Silas drew back almost in his entirety, pausing for a long moment with the tip of his stand just breaching Dom’s arse before slamming back in as violently as he knew how. Dom cried out, fingers scrabbling at the upholstery as his body struggled to accommodate the onslaught.
Dom’s shout wasn’t loud enough to cover up Silas’s own gasp as his body violently objected to such forceful treatment. Silas paused, panting, for a single heart-stopping moment genuinely unsure if he would be able to continue.
“Silas?” Dom said again, and then, when Silas was too busy reckoning with his own body to respond. “Alight, Mason. That’s enough.”
It was the one word Silas hoped never to hear during bedsports with Dom, the word that meant he’d somehow managed to go too far. But how could he have done that, when he was so shamefully struggling to give Dom even the basics of what he needed right now?
“Fuck.” He hurriedly withdrew, cursing himself as Dom hissed through his teeth at the abrupt sting. With hands that shook only slightly he helped Dom to straighten and put his clothing to rights, his hands skittering over Dom’s chest and arms as he visually checked him over and mentally attempted to work out what had gone wrong. “Christ, Dom, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, don’t apologise,” Dom sounded surprisingly calm, his own eyes flicking over Silas as if he were the one who had the right to be concerned. He had only called a halt to their games a scant handful of times in the more-than-decade the pair of them had been together; for a while at the start Silas had wondered if there was anything that would be too much for his Tory, and if he would even say anything if there was.
“What was it? What did I do?” Silas hated himself for not knowing. How the devil could he not know?
Dom gave a soft smile, cupping Silas’s face with his hands. It was such a stark role reversal from where they had been just moments prior it made Silas’s head spin. “It wasn’t what you did, but rather what you didn’t do.” He paused as if expecting a response, but when Silias clearly showed no sign of comprehension he sighed and continued. “Silas, love, why didn’t you tell me you were injured?”
Silas froze, sure he’d misheard. It almost sounded like Dom had called a halt because he was concerned about Silas’s wellbeing. “I- I don’t think I know what you mean.”
Dom sighed again and manoeuvred them around the arm of the chair so that he could encourage Silas to sit in it proper. He paused for a moment, seemingly considering the relative distance of the other chair in the room before shrugging and dropping gracefully to sit at Silas’s feet.
“We’ve been together long enough. Don’t insult me by pretending.”
Silas huffed, feeling at once disgruntled and ashamed. “Alright, curse you. I caught my hip at the shop today, fell off a chair like a right plonker and bruised myself something pretty. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Dom’s expression twisted, and he reached up to grasp Silas’s hand with his own. “But then why didn’t you say anything? Why did you…indulge me?”
Silas couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Aye, because it’s such a hardship taking my pleasure from that delectable arse of yours.” He sighed when Dom still looked disbelieving. “Honestly, it’s barely anything, certainly not enough to stop me from giving you the rogering you deserve. Time was it wouldn’t have even been worth notice in amongst all the other scrapes. I’m getting soft, I tell you. Soft and old.”
“There’s nothing wrong with accepting life a little more soft,” Dom countered, like he didn’t scream for Silas to use him hard on the regular. “And as for old, well, time’s a fickle mistress who comes for us all eventually.” He gave a wry chuckle and ran a hand through the salt and pepper hair at his temple. “Soon as not I’m going to have to accept these grey hairs for what they are.”
“I like your hair,” Silas grumbled, batting away Dom’s hand so that he could replace it with his own, his fingers curling through the strands just hard enough to make Dom hum in pained pleasure.
“I know you do, love, and I like the whole of you exactly as you are. You and I both know I’d far rather see those bruises on my skin than yours.” Dom paused, as if considering whether to say this next bit. “There’s more to this than just plain stubbornness, though, isn’t there?”
Silas barked a rough laugh, briefly wishing his lover was just a touch less observant. “You sure this is what you want to be talking about?” he asked, tightening his hand in Dom’s hair in what even he could admit was a pretty feeble attempt at distraction. “Because I can think of plenty better uses of our time.”
When Dom simply raised an eyebrow in response Silas gave a rueful huff. “Ah hell. No, you’re right. Cards on the table then, is it?”
Dom continued not to say anything, but leaned into the press of Silas’s palm and waited patiently as Silas took the time to collect his thoughts. He found himself trying a few options on for size as he sorted through the how’s and the why’s of exactly what was bothering him.
“I know how…important this is for you,” Silas eventually started, his hand leaving Dom’s head to make a general gesture intended to encompass everything that went on between them behind closed doors. “I know and I understand, Christ knows I do. It’s become important to me too, more than I ever thought it would. But I fear- I fear my body betraying me, to the point where I can no longer give you what you need.”
Dom frowned and opened his mouth, but Silas silenced him with another gesture. There was more that needed to be said. “I know, this is the part where you say something nobly self-sacrificing about you not wanting anything if it’s going to hurt me. But you loved Vane more than anyone in the world and that wasn’t enough without the…other part. This is more than a desire to you, it’s a necessity, and I love you too much to force you to give that up but- but damn it all if I’m too selfish to be able to give you up instead.”
Silas broke off into silence, his chest heaving with the weight of what he’d just admitted. For a moment there was stillness between them, and then Dom gave a wry smile. “Are you finished?”
Silas harrumphed something to the affirmative. Dom looked so unendingly fond as he picked up Silas’s hand to press the kiss to his palm that Silas couldn’t bring himself to begrudge the teasing.
“Let us start with the easiest matter at hand, although one which I really did not think still needed clarifying at this juncture of our lives. Yes, Richard is one of my oldest and dearest friends but you know, Silas, you know that whatever he and I once were to one another can’t hold a candle to what we have together. There is not, and never was, any competition for my heart. How could there be when it has so determinedly belonged to you since well before it ought?”
“Ah, Dom, I do know that,” Silas sighed, making a noise of protest at Dom’s sceptical eyebrow. “I do, truly. Just old insecurities rearing their ugly head, I suppose. Still, it’s nice to hear you say it.”
“I’ll say it as often as you wish,” Dom promised, turning Silas’s hand over and this time pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles in turn. “As to your other concern, do you forget that you’re the one who showed me that my…inclinations…don’t always have to be sated with rough fare? The very reason Richard and I never would have worked is that he didn’t understand me. Whereas you, Silas, you understand me better than I understand myself most days.” He paused and gave a rueful shake of his head. “What is it that you always say to me?”
“There are no chains such as the ones in your mind?”
“Exactly, and while I do think it should be stated for the record that you are still a long way off from your dotage, if it ever does get to the stage where you can’t command me physically I have no doubt that you’ll still be able to take me in hand more effectively with a single word than most men would with an arsenal of whips and chains at their disposal.”
“You know, one might consider that a thrown gauntlet,” Silas said with a pointed look.
“If that is your pleasure,” Dom replied, his voice dropping in a way that had Silas’s toes curling despite everything. “Then be assured that it is also mine.”
“Damn it all,” Silas retrieved his hand from Dom’s grasp so that he could bury his face in it. “I’ve been a right old fool, haven’t I?”
“Happens to the best of us,” Dom said, patting Silas’s knee in fond condescension.
Silas was helpless to stop himself from reaching out to stroke along Dom’s jaw, the rough scratch of newly formed stubble dragging against his fingertips. “What happened today that got you all tangled up in the first place anyhow?”
Dom shrugged, an insouciant gesture that Silas knew masked all manner of hurts. “It was nothing really, merely some harsh words from a colleague that I wasn’t prepared to hear.”
“Aw hell, Dom, I’m sorry.” Silas knew that the bill Dom was currently championing was controversial amongst the more staunchly right-wing members of the Conservative government, and while he was pleased to see some of his liberal ideals clearly rubbing off on his lover, he did sometimes regret how much of a target they made him within his own party.
“Don’t be, I know it comes with the territory, and it’s easy enough to ignore when I have you to distract me at the end of the day.”
“And I made a right pig’s ear of that, didn’t I?” Silas huffed ruefully. “I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted when you walked in here tonight.”
“Nonsense, I don’t always have to get what I want.” Dom paused, his eyelids lowering pointedly. “In fact, some might argue that’s rather the point of our games, Silas .”
Silas raised an eyebrow questioningly. Dom responded by setting his jaw in a way that was all too familiar, making something twist deliciously inside Silas’s chest despite everything that had just occurred. He could feel it low in his gut, all the terrible things he wanted to do to the man at his feet, all the things Dom would let him do, would beg for him to do once Silas had broken him down to his barest self.
Not tonight though. For the rest of tonight he was going to take his pleasure in simple fare, simply because he could.
“Well in that case, Tory , perhaps I’ll just take what I want instead.” He made a point of adjusting the cushions behind him to support his injured hip, and then spread his legs as wide as the armrests would allow. “And what I want is that gamahuching you so rudely denied me earlier.”
Dom paused for a moment, clearly thinking through his options. There was no room for thinking at a time like this, so Silas lifted a booted foot and placed it on Dom’s shoulder. He stepped down firmly, forcing Dom forwards onto his hands and knees. “A suck, and an apology for the trouble you’ve put me through, I think.”
Dom’s hands were balled into fists where he leant on them, and Silas could see a muscle tensing along his jawline. He dug the tip of his boot into the soft juncture between neck and shoulder. “I won’t ask a second time.”
A shudder ran down the length of Dom’s body. Slowly, as if it physically pained him to do so, he prostrated himself so that he could press a kiss to the top of Silas’s foot still on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said, almost too quiet to hear.
“And what are you sorry for?”
Another ripple along Dom’s spine; Silas could almost see the tension leaving his body and dissolving into the air around them. “I’m sorry for being contrary. I’m sorry for denying you.”
Silas ran a hand through Dom’s hair, forcing him to hold the position of supplication for longer than he otherwise would. “I know you are, and now you’re going to make it up to me.”
He let go and allowed Dom to straighten, but snatched at the other man’s wrist as soon as he started to reach for the buttons of Silas’s breeches. “Ah ah ah, use that pretty mouth of yours for the only thing it’s good for.”
Dom blushed crimson, but dutifully collected both hands in his lap as he leant between Silas’s legs, his nose burying into his crotch as he worked with teeth and lips to expose Silas’s stand.
It was slow going. Silas’s breeches weren’t the hoity-toity monstrosities that were currently in fashion for gentlemen of society, but the buttons were stiff and unwieldy and it took almost fifteen minutes of dedicated work before Dom was able to nose the fabric out of the way and take Silas into his mouth.
Silas swore, one hand tangling in Dom’s hair as he pushed the other man roughly onto his stand, not bothering to give him a chance to set the pace. “Yes, there we go,” he groaned as Dom spluttered and struggled to swallow him down, his throat fluttering and constricting along Silas’s length.
“Fuck, yes, just like that.” Silas pulled Dom off roughly, giving him just a second to gasp and catch his breath before shoving him back down again. His prick nudged at the back of Dom’s throat, cutting off his air supply, and Silas held him there forcefully until tears started to gather at the corners of Dom’s eyes.
He kept his hips perfectly still while he dragged Dom’s head up and down his prick, using him like nothing more than a convenient cocksleeve. Dom coughed and choked but hollowed his cheeks and did his damndest to put on a good show as Silas fucked his throat in earnest, and Silas thought he might actually die from the force of his love for the man breaking so beautifully between his legs.
“Yes, fuck. Look at you taking me, taking every inch I give you. You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you? Let me choke you on my prick until you pass out, if that’s what I wanted from you.” Silas groaned, biting down on his knuckles to stave off his release, not ready for this to be over yet. “I wouldn’t do that though, not when your eyes are so pretty open and filled with tears. Look at me, yes just like that, ah Christ, you beautiful fucking fuckster.”
And then he was coming so hard everything went black around the edges of his vision. He thrust deep into Dom’s mouth and spurted down the back of his throat, holding him in place so he was forced to swallow every drop.
Dom whimpered, his eyes fluttering closed as a single glistening tear trickled down his cheek. Silas slid his hand out from where it had been fisted so tightly in Dom’s hair and brushed it away gently with the pad of his thumb. “Shhh, that’s it, you did so well for me. No, don’t move.” His fingers tightened around Dom’s jaw, holding him in place as he tried to pull off Silas’s softening stand. “I’ll have you right where you are, keeping me nice and warm while I relax some.”
Dom groaned in realisation as Silas leant over to pick up his book from earlier, making a great show of opening it up to the page where his bookmark sat waiting.
Silas’s prick was on the cusp of oversensitivity, but Dom didn’t try to do anything with it, just let it rest heavy and secure on his tongue. Dom’s own stand was likely hard as a rock after that performance, but Silas had no intention of letting him find release through that particular avenue tonight and Dom - perfect creature that he was - didn’t try to force his hand. He held himself perfectly still, not even thrusting against Silas’s leg as he was sometimes wont to do when he was put on his knees like this, and Silas was so very, very proud of him.
“You’re so good for me,” he whispered, more to himself than anything, but Dom gave a soft little hum that told Silas he’d heard anyway. With a fond chuckle he settled back in his chair, and ostensibly turned his attention away from Dom and towards his book.
It was a series of poems by a young author Silas knew Dom was fond of, and so after a while he started to read aloud, one hand resting lightly on the back of Dom’s head when it wasn’t required to turn the page.
The fire crackled in the hearth, Silas’s sonorous voice filling the air, and minutes turned to hours as they whiled away the evening together. When the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed for midnight Silas closed his book with a murmur of contentment. Between his legs Dom didn’t even twitch, so deep was he in his own head.
“Come on, pet,” Silas said, voice almost painfully fond as he cupped Dom’s cheek. “Time for bed, aye?”
Dom’s eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly against the dim light of the room. He drew off Silas’s prick reluctantly, his lips forming a little moue of distaste at suddenly finding themselves unoccupied.
“I know, I know,” Silas said, thumb dragging gently across Dom’s lower lip before moving to tuck himself away. Dom was as clumsy as a fawn as Silas helped him to his feet, staggering slightly and folding against Silas’s side as he steered them both across the hallway to the bedroom.
Dom winced as they both undressed, his knees clearly protesting so long spent on the floor despite the plush carpet installed in the library for this exact reason.
“Getting old is a right bugger, isn’t it?” Silas teased gently as they slipped under the sheets. He would be sure to rise and leave well before the house staff began their morning chores, but for now it was just the two of them, and Silas folded Dom into his arms without a care.
“As long as I get to grow old with you,” Dom said, his voice slurring slightly as he burrowed into Silas’s chest. “I’ll take anything that comes with it, if I can just have that.”
It took a few tries before Silas could say anything around the lump that formed in his throat in response to such a declaration. He bundled Dom close to him, kissing his forehead with all the love that he felt in his overfull heart. “Aye, Tory, I think that can be arranged.”