Chapter Text
1544
Dorothy still hoped for news from Matthew. Perhaps a dinner invitation, though despite her hopes she knew better than that. She'd invited him to a few dinners and events this past year, and for some reason or another he'd been unable to attend any. She suspected he was avoiding her. Her old friend wore his heart on his sleeve and she'd seen how crushed he'd been when she chose to stay in Bristol. She'd told him she would never marry again, and that was true, though she hadn't mention that at one time she would have married him. It wasn't that she could never feel the same way about anyone as she had Roger, because again, at one time, she'd felt the same way about Matthew.
And so had Roger. That was the crux of it really. They worked as a three, and Dorothy and Roger worked to a certain extent as a two - though never as smoothly, and had Matthew not still been around she wasn't sure they would have lasted - but without Roger she and Matthew didn't work. He had been the glue, the softening edge. She and Matthew were too similar, all hard edges and corners. In a marriage, they would bump too often. They needed Roger for it to all work, it was all in or none. But they'd lost him.
And not only had they lost Roger, but they'd lost him in such an awful way. Matthew finding the body, Dorothy herself seeing him in that awful state… No. Staying in Bristol had been the right choice, though it would be a lie to say she didn't miss Matthew terribly.
She sniffed slightly, shaking herself and returning to the task at hand. In the midst of all her grief, she had received some wonderful news - she was soon to become a grandmother. As such, she had begun looking through old boxes of records and treasured possessions for anything of note from her son's childhood, that might now be passed on to his child. She pulled a small book out of the box now, a leather-bound journal of sorts that she did not recognise. Undoing the ties that kept it together, her eyes fell on the first page.
The musings of a young man
Roger John Elliard
In The Years of Our Lord 1522-1523
Dorothy snapped the book shut again. This was…. this was Roger's diary. His journal, where he kept his innermost private thoughts. Written, from the look of it, when he and Matthew were at Cambridge. Where the three of them had met.
Part of her said to put the book back immediately, and forget she ever saw it. Another part said to burn it, that Roger's intimate secrets might be maintained and never spied on by outside eyes. But a quiet, insistent voice in the back of her mind said "Why not?"
Roger was gone. He was never coming back to her, no matter how many times she called out for him in her mind or sobbed over the empty space in her bed. There was no such thing as invasion of privacy when it came to the dead. With a shaky hand, she opened the journal again and turned to a random page.
3rd November 1522
A hard assignment yet a pleasurable evening to report tonight…
1522
Roger leaned back in his chair and groaned. "It’s all for naught if you ask me."
"Well, unluckily for us, Dr Aylesbury didn't ask you before he set this assignment." Matthew's voice was sour and slightly muffled, the young man grumpily slumped over a pile of papers.
Roger was not deterred. "And he should have done! If he had, I would have been able to give him the sensible advice that, instead of assigning us hours and hours of utterly dull legal cases to read, he should instead take a walk to the stables, stand behind Jones' horse, and wait for the ill-tempered creature to give him a good kick in the head."
Matthew snorted despite himself and sat up. "Did I tell you? I overheard the old git telling Fairfax that he'd made a good point about the Pathmore case."
"What point?"
"Apparently the wife had a valid claim under court precedent even though the property law in question explicitly contradicted her case."
Roger rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "It's like some of these professors haven't a clue what they're actually meant to be teaching." After a brief pause, he looked over at Matthew. "You should teach. It'd make the classes more interesting at least. And you wouldn't set so much reading."
Matthew rolled his eyes. "Ah yes, because the noble institution of Cambridge University is simply dying to hire the hunchback son of a farmer. What would I even teach?" He reached for his mug of weak ale, taking a long drink.
Roger shrugged. "Sexual favours?"
Matthew choked on his ale. "What?!"
"What? Pretty good at them, I'd say." He winked. "I could ask Godfrey for a second opinion if you'd like."
Fortunately for Roger's handsome face, there was nothing in the immediate vicinity for Matthew to throw at him. Instead he spluttered, trying to formulate some form of verbal retort, painfully aware of the blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.
"I could not teach that." He finally managed. "God's nails, Roger!"
"Why not?" The other man flashed him a flirty smile of brilliant white teeth. "You currently instruct multiple law students in that particular practice, if I'm not much mistaken."
Matthew swallowed. "Jealous?"
"Not at all, as I happen to know which chambers you most often frequent." Roger sipped at his own beer and made a face. "Ugh. You taste much better than this."
Matthew's eyes widened but, as Roger made no further comment and continued drinking the weak alcohol, Matthew resolved to ignore his last remark. "Any activities outside of the classroom have nothing to do with what goes on in a court of law! What would… that have to do with anything?"
Roger put his drink down and smirked. "Well, strictly speaking, making one's opponent frustrated enough to make mistakes is a practised legal strategy."
"Practised, perhaps, but unprofessional and bordering on unethical. The law is supposed to be unemotional, practical, reasoned-"
"Yes, yes," Roger interrupted. "'The law is reason free from passion'. I was in that lecture on Aristotle too, you know. Still, lawyers get passionate in court all the time. And if one can outwit an opponent by making them angry, one could just as easily…" He trailed off and stood up, walking slowly around the desk to stand before his lover. Matthew looked up into his face, Roger's expression imperceptible as he reached out a hand, cupping the other man's cheek gently and leaning down, breath ghosting across Matthew's face. "I wonder…"
Suddenly, he pulled away, standing up straight with a detached expression. Matthew was left dazed, grasping at something that had been ripped away as quickly as it was offered. "Wha-"
"There are some interesting legal strategies at play in the reading, are there not?" Roger's tone was smooth, unaffected, as if continuing a regular academic conversation. As if they had not just been achingly close.
"I-"
"Yes, I think the plaintiff had a stronger case than the arguments his legal team put forward." Roger continued. "If he'd had a different lawyer…" - Matthew could have sworn he saw Roger's eyes dart to his lips but again the other man's gaze gave nothing away - "perhaps he could have won."
Matthew found his voice. "What strategies would you have employed, then? What further arguments?" He felt entirely out of his depth here; all he could do was swim with the current and hope wherever Roger was leading him was a pleasant destination.
"Oh I can think of many. Perhaps a more thorough grilling of the steward would have…"
Roger continued talking but Matthew heard nothing further, for at that very moment the other man's foot moved forward under the desk between them, gently stroking Matthew's calf.
Fuck it, he decided, standing abruptly and stalking around the desk. He leant one hand on Roger's chair and leaned over the man, who'd fallen silent. Matthew lifted an eyebrow, his expression challenging. "No, no, carry on."
"If you insist." Before Matthew could even react, Roger had slipped underneath his arm and stood, plucking one of the books off of the desk as he went. He opened it to a random page and began reading, "Next of kin stand to inherit all, when and only when the deceased…"
Matthew gaped at him. He was really doing this. They were really going to stand here as Roger read law verses to him. Law verses, he might add, that Matthew already knew by heart, and that were irrelevant to the work they were supposed to be doing. There was no purpose for this except for Roger to be a teasing little shit.
"…when such cases occur…"
Well, if they were doing this, Matthew would not be standing for it. He slumped down into the seat Roger had just vacated, glaring daggers across the desk. The other man appeared to take absolutely no notice, continuing the unwanted lecture to his one-man audience.
"…it is therefore important to consider the rights…"
Yet, though his face remained impassive, Roger's free hand moved from his side to his doublet, gently beginning to unlace the garment as he spoke. Matthew gripped the desk, white-knuckled. This was torture, plain and simple. They might as well throw him in the Tower of London; he'd say anything at this point if it meant Roger would put down that infernal book and touch him.
"…all disputes are subject to-" Roger's voice was cut off by a horrible grating sound and Matthew looked down, realising his nails were scratching against the oak of the desk with how tight he was holding it. He glanced up briefly to see that Roger, too, was looking at his hand on the wood. Then the other man's gaze shifted lower and his smile widened wickedly.
"I'm sorry, Matthew. I didn't realise you were so distracted. Would you like a little… help with that?"
Matthew's voice was barely a whisper as it left his mouth, his whole body too tense and wound up to even be embarrassed. "Please."
Roger smirked, dropping the book, pulling Matthew from his seat, and walking him backwards until he was flush to the wall. The discomfort in Matthew's back reared its head, but he could barely pay it any attention as all the blood in his body rushed downwards. His lover's smirk shifted into a hungry look as Roger finally, finally leaned down to press their lips together.
THUD. There was a knock on the door.
Roger pulled away just as their lips brushed, leaving Matthew to chase empty air. The pinned man groaned loudly and threw his head back in frustration, uncaring of the pain as the back of his skull came into contact with the wall. Roger shook his own head at him lightly as he called out: "Who's there?"
The reply was swift and welcome. "It's Dorothy!" a familiar voice called, the woman herself turning the handle and peeking her head inside to look around the room. Her eyes widened at their positions against the wall and she quickly came in, bolting the door behind her. She stepped forwards towards them, eyes glinting with mischief. "Good evening, boys. I trust I am not interrupting anything of note?"
Before Matthew could even attempt an answer, Roger had straightened up and was walking towards her. He dipped his head upon reaching Dorothy, murmuring something into her ear that brought about a small, impish smile on the young woman's face. She looked at Roger, then back at him. Then she looked Down. Matthew gulped as her small smile turned into a full evil smirk.
"Need a little help, darling?" She wasn't talking to him.
Oh.
Oh he was well and truly fucked.
"Well, if you're offering help," Matthew didn't need to see Roger's face to be able to picture the mischievous grin stretched across it. "I could use some assistance in keeping our lovely Matthew here occupied whilst I finish my reading."
Matthew swallowed hard as Roger moved out of the way, allowing Dorothy to step into Matthew's space. She looked up at his face, studying him, and her features took on a pitying expression. "Oh darling, Roger has been torturing you, hasn't he?" Dorothy reached a soft hand up, as if to place it on his cheek, but stopped short of actually touching him.
He nodded mutely in answer to her question, still far too on edge to construct a verbal response, and desperate for her touch. Something flashed in Dorothy's eyes. "Use your words." Her voice was less playful than before, and the atmosphere of the room noticeably shifted.
He flushed, subconsciously leaning into her, wishing for even the slight relief of her palm caressing his face. But as Matthew moved, so did she, keeping their contact at a minimum, the ghost of a touch.
"Yes." He finally managed to croak.
She nodded pityingly. "Poor baby. What was it you were doing?" Then she turned her head to the other man in the room and nodded.
Roger grinned back at her, picking the book back up. Matthew groaned again and shut his eyes as he realised that the nightmare had not ended.
"…a lawyer's responsibility is to…"
There was a light tap on Matthew's cheek and his eyes jerked open to meet Dorothy's gaze. "None of that," she said in mock-disapproving tones. "We will stand here and listen to the law. It's important. Why, would you rather do something else?"
"Please." He breathed again, reaching out to pull her to him. Dorothy came willingly enough, planting a light kiss on his cheek as she was pressed flush against his body. Then she pushed his hands away.
"Stay." She kissed him then, and he melted into her, knees buckling slightly as she kissed along his jaw and began trailing down his neck. But still, Matthew did as he was told, and though he yearned to touch, to feel, to have, his flexing fingers remained at his sides, mewls of pleasure escaping his mouth.
"…the landowner is therefore granted, in effect…"
Dorothy had neared the pulse point above Matthew's shirt collar when Roger trailed off, shutting the book and looking at the two of them, adoration and lustful fire swirling in his usually calm eyes.
"Dorothy!" He called quietly. She stopped her ministrations to look over at him, ridiculously calm for a woman whose attentions had just reduced Matthew to a whimpering mess. Roger smiled his roguishly charming smile at her. "I cannot help feeling a little abandoned over here."
She grinned and left Matthew's side to go to him, pulling Roger into a deep kiss. Something good ached in Matthew at the sight, entirely removed from his pressing physical reality. They were meant for each other, Roger and Dorothy. He was simply glad to be along for the journey.
As if sensing his maudlin thoughts, the two looked up at Matthew in that moment. "Doublet, off." Dorothy demanded, panting. Roger groaned in appreciation as Matthew blushed an even deeper crimson than before and began unlacing the garment. Across the room, Dorothy made light work of the remaining ties on Roger's doublet, and soon both men stood in their shirts. Matthew shivered, though the room was warm. The two came over to him then, and he stepped into their arms.
"You seem sufficiently distracted, Matthew. I believe I've proven my point." Roger's smile was amused but not mocking, and if the pressure against Matthew's side was anything to go by, the evening's activities had been, if not equally difficult, at least somewhat difficult for him as well.
Matthew shook his head in disbelief, glad his brief respite had cleared his head a little. "All this to prove a legal strategy." He leaned in and pressed his mouth hard to Roger's, capturing the man's bottom lip between his teeth and tugging slightly before he pulled away. "One should be careful of consequences to your tactics."
Roger huffed a slight laugh. "Oh but they are truly delicious consequences." He kissed Matthew again, hungrier and more desperate this time. Matthew whined slightly, giving as good as he got, but they were interrupted; Roger was gently shoved out of the way by Dorothy, who leaned in for her own kiss.
"You've had your time." She informed Roger, pulling away from Matthew briefly before pressing herself closer, nipping at his lips and jaw. The other man laughed, and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing down the back of her neck. Dorothy shivered and her attacks on Matthew's face and neck intensified. He raised his chin to grant her better access, gripping at the wall to keep himself upright.
***
Dorothy pulled away from both of them after a few minutes, eyes dark. As she turned, Matthew noted her gown was halfway unlaced and raised an eyebrow at Roger, who winked. Dorothy rolled her eyes fondly at the pair of them and shoved Roger in the chest, pushing him backwards towards the bed in the corner of the room. He took the hint, pulling off his shirt and sprawling himself on the edge of the mattress. Dorothy took Matthew's hand, leading him in the same direction. Once there, Matthew too found himself unceremoniously pushed, falling onto the bed and into Roger's lap. His back was pressed to the other man's chest, though both his partners were careful and he'd landed at an angle that wouldn't cause pain or uncomfortable pressure.
Dorothy herself kneeled on the wooden floor, combing her unbound hair out of her face. The sight made both men groan, and Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, his head falling back onto Roger's shoulder as Dorothy's hands travelled up his calves. She paused at the juncture of his thighs and looked up at Matthew through long eyelashes. "Now, you know how much we love hearing you. But for the sake of discretion, I'm going to need you to keep quiet for me, ok?" His breath hitched audibly and Dorothy smiled slightly. Then she addressed the man behind him. "Keep his mouth busy for me, won't you darling?"
"Yes ma'am." Roger joked, turning Matthew's head to him and leaning down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. As he did so, Matthew felt Dorothy's hands in his lap, and before very long he was drifting away, lost in a world of pleasure far removed from boring law texts.