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Orlando wasn't sure what had wakened him. It couldn't have been the bell as everybody else in the slave's dormitory was still asleep. Probably it had just been the cold again.
Outside it was still dark but years of training told Orlando that it couldn't be more than a few minutes till the wake up call would come. The small windows of the dormitory were encrusted with ice flowers and on the sills outside fresh snow had gathered.
It must have snowed over night. Again. Orlando shivered under his thin blanket and tried to somehow cover his naked feet while drawing up the too short piece of cloth to his chin. That would mean clearing the courtyard of snow yet again. Just like he and some of the other slaves had done nearly every morning for the last few weeks.
As if there wasn't enough to do today anyway. Christmas Eve was a day and mostly a night of hard labor for the slaves of the household, certainly not a time of celebration. There were a million things to do with all the guests celebrating, each and every single one coming up with extra tasks for the overworked servants.
Who were all bitchy and tired by now as they had spend the last two weeks cleaning and decorating the whole castle, then preparing everything for the grand party that would last well into tomorrow morning.
And as if that wasn't enough, most of the guests and permanent residents alike used the holidays to make use of as many of the prettier slaves as possible in ways that were at best degrading, at worst fatal.
Orlando hugged himself, shuddering as he thought of his nearly fatal encounter with a particularly nasty baron who had concluded that Orlando was lacking the proper Christmas spirit of giving freely. He still wore the scars of those two nights. He had been lucky that the noble had to depart to deal with business in his own holdings before he could finish his 'education'.
But that didn't mean he was off the hook. Yesterday he had been clearing the window sills of ice when he had watched the man arrive down in the yard. All he could hope now was that their paths wouldn't cross. Or that the baron wouldn't remember him if they did stumble across each other.
Orlando sat up on his narrow cot, surveying the low dormitory and the other slaves, still fitfully asleep. With a sigh he got up, grabbing his worn boots from where he had put them when he had gone to sleep only about four hours earlier. The stone floor was icy cold so he quickly put on the boots.
Running his hands through his thick curls he quietly made his way to the door and then outside. Wouldn't hurt to get to the kitchen early. Maybe he could snatch some leftovers from last night’s pre-Christmas party before all the other slaves got there. And maybe he would even have a few minutes to warm his feet at the stove before it was time to go outside and clear the courtyard.
The caste was still mostly quiet. The last nobles had finally gone to sleep or were too drunk, too stoned or generally too fucked up to make much noise. The slaves were mostly still asleep.
Orlando loved this half hour of the night, when the evening turned into night for his masters and it was not quite morning yet for the slaves. When there was nobody to order him around.
The courtyard was covered by a thin sheet of snow, unbroken by footprints yet. It looked pretty and Orlando stopped in the doorway from the dormitory to look at the pristine white contrasting with the dark grey of the castle's walls and the green of the countless garlands the slaves had decorated the yard with. It did look pretty. Even though he doubted any of the inhabitants of the castle truly appreciated the view.
The snow looked powdery and soft and Orlando sighed with gratitude, his breath making a small white cloud before in the cold air. It would be easy to clear the yard this morning.
Then he made his way over to the kitchen leaving one single set of footprints in the white.
The two stove slaves were already awake, feeding the fires to get them hot and steady for the other kitchen slaves who would soon arrive to hand out breakfast for the rest of the staff of the castle and then get to the nearly impossible task of preparing the ungodly amounts of food that would be consumed by the amassed noble guests today.
Orlando greeted them with a silent nod and was mostly ignored. Which suited him just fine, as he sorted through the heaped remains on the large plates, that had been served as a last fancy snack to the guests partying the hardest. There were some juicy bits to be found and he secured a meaty chickens leg in some spicy marinade, a chunk of bread and a pitcher of ale that was still half filled and only a bit stale for himself. Then he sat down in a corner near to one of the great open fireplaces.
Just when he took the first bite, he could hear the bell toll in the slave's dormitories and he smiled happily. Plenty of time for a nice breakfast.
When he was done with eating, the kitchen had filled with slaves fighting over the leftovers. Fighting very quietly of course. After all nobody wanted to wake up the masters.
With a sigh, Orlando said goodbye to the fireplace and got up to meet the others of the cleaning crew, who were slowly gathering at the kitchen door. This would probably remain the only time today, he would really feel warm.
---
Several hours later Orlando was desperately trying to keep his grip on the handle of the bucket filled with dirty water he was carrying out of the grand hall. His fingers were bloody from almost two hours of carrying buckets like that and scrubbing the floor in between and they were so icy cold he could hardly feel them by now.
Why the floor had to be so spotlessly clean it would reflect the ceiling perfectly was beyond him when he considered that the great party that would take place there in only a few hours would soil the floor again. When first wine, than food and later probably the blood of the pleasure slaves that had been bought explicitly for this occasion would spill.
But it was not his place to question his masters. At least not when they could hear it.
He had nearly made it to the great portal leading out into the courtyard, when his fingers finally slipped and the heavy bucket fell free of his grip, spilling a flood of dirty water down the corridor and - much to Orlando's horror - over the shiny boots that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere right in his path.
He glanced up and felt ready to faint when he realized that the tall man in front of him was not only wearing the fine and expensive clothes of a noble but also the rank insignia of an earl.
'I'm so dead' Orlando thought and then he noticed the man standing right at the shoulder of the one whose boots he had ruined. The baron he had so dreaded meeting. And as their eyes met for a moment the man clearly recognized him.
Orlando did the only sensible thing and dropped to his knees, touching the floor with his brow, trembling in fear. He had seen slaves dismembered for lesser offences.
"You!" the oily voice of the baron cut the silence that had followed the loud clanking of the bucket. "You imbecile! I know you, slime!"
Orlando heard the baron step forward and tried to make himself smaller, shrinking away from the beating he knew must be coming.
The expected blow didn't fall but he heard an unfamiliar voice that had to belong to the Earl: "Dear Baron, as far as I can see my boots are soiled so it is my pleasure to administer punishment." The voice was velvety soft but underlined with a steel that made Orlando flinch.
When he glanced up he saw that the Earl had caught the riding crop of the baron in midswing, his black-gloved hand balled to a menacing fist around it and his eyes the gleaming blue grey of a drawn sword.
The baron quickly stepped back, bowing his head. "Of course, your highness. I apologize!" he whispered, his voice dripping oily obedience and barely contained hatred.
Orlando pressed his brow to the wet floor, praying to every deity he had ever heard of as the steps of the baron receded down the corridor.
"Get up!" the earl ordered coldly.
Orlando hurried to obey but kept his gaze firmly on his feet, noticing absentmindedly that there was a hole in his left boot and that his big toe was sticking out.
"Look at me!"
The voice of the earl seemed a fraction softer but Orlando was reasonably sure that was just wishful thinking on his part. He glanced up at the noble through his lashes, evading eye contact and avoiding lifting his face.
The hand of the man shot forward and his gloved hand grabbed Orlando's chin to raise his face to his gaze. Orlando couldn't help but notice that a hint of amusement was sparkling in the earl's eyes.
The noble slowly turned Orlando's face left and right, then a slow smile spread on his lips, easing the severe lines from his face.
"You're a pretty one." he commented. He let go of Orlando's chin, who quickly lowered his head again. "You have ruined my boots." the earl continued. "You should be skinned alive and then hanged."
Orlando shuddered at that image. He had seen it done to runaway slaves twice and it sometimes still haunted his nightmares. He felt tears of fear gather in his eyes and wanted nothing more than to wipe at them but he stayed motionless, only trembling slightly.
He winced away when the earl reached out for his face again, but this time the man didn't grab him but instead traced a single tear that was running down Orlando's cheek with one gloved finger.
His voice was strangely soft and warm, when he spoke again. "Hey... Don't cry, little one. I won't have you punished. It's just a pair of boots. I have plenty."
Orlando couldn't help but glance up and saw with surprise that there was genuine warmth in the noble's eyes and more than a little pity.
"Come, little one," the earl continued, smiling reassuringly, "don't be afraid, I won't hurt you." He turned on his heel and walked away towards the grand stairway leading up to the left wing of the castle and the lavish guest quarters there. There was nothing Orlando could do but follow.
He wasn't sure what to make of the strange behavior of the noble but he certainly did not trust him. If his service in the castle had taught him one thing it was to never, never trust a master. They were quick to anger, loved toying with the fears of the slaves and - most importantly - they were always cruel, cold and careless.
Still an ember of hope that he might get out of this one alive was glowing somewhere in his silly heart and just wouldn't die, even though his brain told him clearly that hope just was ridiculous. After all it was Christmas. Nothing good ever happened on Christmas.
Quickly they had reached the richly carpeted hallway that led to the suites of the most important guests. Of course an earl would be quartered here. Orlando felt faint. He was so dead.
The earl hadn't turned once to make sure the little slave was actually following but now he opened one of the doors and looked down at Orlando. Orlando kept his head carefully ducked as he passed through the door, feeling like a chicken grabbed by the neck. Just one twist and he would serve as dinner.
The noble followed him inside, closing the door behind them with a firm 'thud'.
Orlando stopped just a few steps into the room, keeping his eyes trained on the thick red carpet. He had been in these suites often enough. Mostly after the guests had left to clean up after them. Sometimes when one had grabbed him to serve in various ways. But never on an offence.
The earl walked passed him to the richly embroidered couch that stood close to the huge fireplace. "Come," he said as he sat down on the couch, "sit."
Orlando quickly hurried over and dropped to his knees again at the feet of the earl, wincing at the sight of the expensive boots right in his view that really did look ruined.
"No," the earl said to his surprise, gently grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him upward, "up here." Embarrassed Orlando sat on the edge of the couch, feeling improper and out of place, staring down at his hands.
Why couldn't the man just punish him? At least then he could stop being so horribly afraid.
"Let me have a look at that." the earl said instead and took Orlando's hands, opening his loosely balled fists. Orlando couldn't suppress a hiss of pain as the scraps on his fingers broke open again and fresh blood seeped from them.
"No wonder you dropped that bucket." the earl said, still sounding gentle and understanding. "A miracle you were able to hang on to it at all." He got up from the couch and Orlando was about to drop to his knees yet again, but the earl's hand pressed down on his shoulder just in time to prevent him.
"Wait here." the earl commanded and of course Orlando obeyed. He watched under his lashes as the earl went to the adjoining room and there rummaged around a bit. Moment later he was back, carrying a small satchel. He sat down next to Orlando again, opening the satchel and taking out a small pot that intensely smelled of healing herbs when he opened it.
To Orlando's amazement he took off his gloves and then spread a cooling salve on Orlando's fingers that quickly stopped the bleeding and slightly numbed the pain.
Orlando looked up at the earl utterly confused. His gaze was met by a gentle smile and a slight sparkle of amusement in the earl's eyes. "There, that's better." he said and wiped the last of Orlando's drying tears from his cheek. "Now if you will gift me with a little smile I will consider those boots recompensed for."
It was hard. Really, really hard. But Orlando did try to smile for the noble. It didn't work very well though.
An expression of deep, heartfelt pity passed over the earl's face. "Ah, is it really that bad, pretty?" he asked softly. Before Orlando could even think of an answer, the earl gave it himself. "Thinking of that brutish baron I guess it is, hmm?"
A slight frown appeared on his brow. "You think he will come looking for you?" Orlando shrugged, trying to look unconcerned but of course the earl was right. If Orlando somehow, miraculously managed to get out of these rooms alive - and it did look like that was about to happen - the baron would surely be on the lookout to grab him.
The earl sighed softly. "Of course he will... silly me. You'll be in a hell of trouble if he finds you undamaged, yes? Will probably think you ran away from me... Stupid, stupid me."
Orlando looked at the man in confusion, not really sure why he had a problem with a simple slave getting killed but strangely grateful nonetheless.
"What am I to do with you now, pretty?" the earl asked more himself than Orlando. "Can't have you killed over a useless pair of boots, can I? What a mess..."
His genuine worry warmed Orlando's heart more than he would have thought possible only a few minutes ago. He didn't even notice the small smile this brought to his face, but the noble looked at him in sudden awe.
"You are a pretty one, you know that, boy?" he asked, a little breathless. "What's your name?"
Orlando quickly lowered his gaze again even though there had been nothing even remotely threatening in the way the earl looked at him. He just couldn't help the reflex. "Orlando, master." he answered shyly.
"Well, Orlando, how about this: why don't you stay here in my quarters today? You'll be safe here and you could use a bit of rest I think. And I doubt anybody will dare ask any questions. And tomorrow the baron will probably have already forgotten about you."
Again Orlando glanced up at the earl in confusion. The man wasn't really asking his opinion, was he? That just didn't happen!
"Well?" he noble asked again, quite obviously expecting an answer.
For a moment fear surged in Orlando's heart and all he wanted was to bolt from the room as quickly as possible. But the face of the earl was open and friendly. Maybe it was a trap, some strange and cruel game Orlando couldn't comprehend. But there also was the slim chance that the earl really meant his offer and that was too sweet to risk. So Orlando slowly nodded, his heart beating in his throat.
He was rewarded with a warm smile. "Good." The earl brushed one of Orlando's curls from his face and Orlando actually managed not to flinch away. "Then do get some rest. You can sleep here on the couch where you'll be close to the fire. You look frozen."
Before Orlando had time to really understand what miracle had just happened to him, the earl got up and walked over to the other room again. "I'll be at the party most of the evening, I guess. So you'll be undisturbed."
Again Orlando heard him rummage in the other room. This time he returned with a thick comforter. Handing it to Orlando, he smiled down at him again. "Sleep, pretty one. You're safe."
And then he just turned and left Orlando alone.
---
Again it was the cold that woke Orlando. Though this time it was more a draft of cool air touching his cheek when the rest of his body was blissfully and completely warm.
He huddled deeper into that warmth, his mind still sluggish from sleep. Not sure at all where he was or how he had gotten there, he slowly opened his eyes and felt his heart stop in shock as he was greeted by the sight of smoldering embers in the fireplace.
For a dreadful moment he was back in the kitchen, one of the stove boys tasked with never, ever letting the fire go out in the great cooking stoves. The cook will kill me, Orlando thought.
Again it took him a few moments to remember that he had been replaced by a younger boy many years ago. And again he didn't know where he was.
Only when suddenly another person sat down on the couch with a deep sigh did he realize where he was. Asleep on the couch of the earl, undisturbed asleep for more hours in one stretch than he had probably ever been before in his young life.
Quickly he withdrew from that other person, praying fervently that it was the earl. And that he hadn't changed his mind about punishing Orlando.
The room was dark, the only illuminating coming from the glowing embers and the tiny bit of light from outside, seeping in through the thick curtains.
"Shouldn't you be asleep, Orlando?" the voice of the earl asked. He sounded tired and sad somehow. "I woke you up, didn't I?" he continued. "I'm sorry."
One does not apologize to a slave, a tiny voice lectured in Orlando's mind but it was quickly silenced, when the earl's hand reached out, gently running fingertips over Orlando's cheek. Orlando shivered under the touch. This did not bode well. But he managed not to flinch away. Whatever the earl decided to deal out, he had no choice but accept it.
The hand withdrew just as quickly. "Truly I am sorry." the earl whispered, his voice heavy with an emotion Orlando could not name. Maybe a mixture of grief and loneliness. "I did not wish to scare you, little one. I so much long for company after the slaughter I have just witnessed. Some part of me was hoping you might share my cold bed, allow me to hold you. What foolishness. I should have known you justly fear me."
The earl got up quietly. "Sleep, little one." he said, quickly withdrawing to the adjoining room, leaving a thoroughly confused Orlando behind.
The earl had long closed the door to the other room, before Orlando even started to think again. He had been living in the castle most of his life but he couldn't recall ever having been treated even nearly as gentle and considerate. Of course he still was afraid of the earl. But could this still be an elaborate ruse to later hurt him just the more? That just didn't make sense.
And even should that be the case, he owed the earl gratitude just for the long hours of sleep he had just spend safe and warm.
What had he said? That he wanted to hold him? Orlando hugged himself, dread rising in his throat. He was sure it would not remain just holding him. What reason did he have to not just accept the break that the earl was offering. Why not just curl up on the couch again and sleep some more?
But the loneliness in the earl's voice haunted him. This man had shown him kindness and for reasons Orlando didn't really understand himself, he felt the need to repay that kindness.
What was the worst thing that could happen? That the earl would be just like any other noble and hurt him badly. So what? it had happened before. It would happen again. At least he would have tried. And at best he could offer this kind man some warmth to cling to.
Slowly Orlando slipped out from under the comforter, shivering slightly in the cold night air. He pushed off his boots and then soundlessly made his way over to the closed door.
Madness! Madness! The voice shrilled inside his head but he chose just to ignore it. Taking a deep breath he pushed down the handle of the door, opening it a fraction and then slipped into the dark bedroom behind.
Immediately he heard the soft breathing from the bed change, then he saw the earl sit up in the bed in the scant light from the covered windows.
"Orlando?" he voice of the earl asked, again that underlining of steel evident.
"Yes, master." Orlando whispered, padding over to the bed on naked feet.
"What are you... what do you want?" the earl asked in a confusion so obvious it managed to bring a small smile to his lips.
Still it took a lot of courage to answer as he was not really used to speaking any other words than yes or no or master to a noble.
"You said you wanted to hold me, master." he said, stopping next to the bed, unsure if he should just climb in or kneel next to it.
"Well... I... you..." the earl answered still dumbfounded.
Suddenly Orlando wasn't sure anymore if this had really been such a good idea. Maybe he had misunderstood somehow. Maybe he was just way overstepping the invisible line that separated slave from master.
He was about to turn and flee the room, when the earl's arm snaked out of the bed to gently encircle and then draw him closer.
"Oh sweet, pretty boy," the earl whispered, pulling Orlando onto the bed, "you can't begin to imagine what this means to me."
Again Orlando felt a surge of fear but it passed quickly this time as he realized the arms of the earl were around him only loosely, not confining him. Fighting his instinct to run he allowed himself to relax into the gentle embrace and the earl sighed contented.
Orlando allowed the noble to draw him under the thick blanket and close to the lean body hidden under it. The lean naked body, Orlando realized with a start. But really, that was just what he had expected.
But still there was no real aggressiveness in that embrace as the earl arranged Orlando next to him. His fingers ghosted through Orlando's curls almost shyly and brought another small smile to Orlando's face. Could it really be that he somehow had caught the attention of the one nice noble in the world?
Strangely reassured he snuggled closer to the other’s warm body wondering what it would be like - without fear, without blood, maybe even without pain. A shiver ran down his spine and this time it was not at all unpleasant.
Still the fingers of the earl stilled, then withdrew slowly to Orlando's disappointment.
"I'm sorry," the noble whispered softly. "I should be grateful you even venture into my bed. I will content myself with just feeling you close, little one."
Orlando closed his eyes tightly, begging whatever gods might hear for courage and good will, as he reached out himself, his callused fingertips very shyly trailing down the arm that was wrapped around him.
The earl drew his breath in sharply, the small hairs on his arm, standing up in the wake of Orlando's touch. But he held utterly still. As if he could hardly believe the little slave in his arms chould be so brave.
Encourage by the lack of complaint Orlando allowed his fingers to wander higher, caressing the firm muscles of the earl's shoulders, his hand then spreading out over the warm skin of his chest, covering his heart, feeling it beat fast under his touch.
"Orlando... you don't have to do this." The earl's voice was soft and full of longing.
The smile on Orlando's lips widened a little more and he pressed his face against the arm of the earl to let him feel it. 'No,' he thought, 'and that's why I want to.'
He wasn't sure where his sudden boldness came from but this other hand joined the first, eagerly caressing the earl's chest. It didn't take the man long to respond in kind. Again his fingers combed through Orlando's curls, less shy this time
and again Orlando felt that pleasant shiver run through his body.
He had been taught how to please a man long ago, so he now slipped out of the earl's embrace a bit to kiss his chest. A deep sigh assured him that the earl enjoyed his attention but when he tried to work his way down his stomach, a gentle hand stopped him.
"No." the earl said softly and sat up next to Orlando. He pressed Orlando down without force so the slave came to lie on his back and then straddled him. In the low light Orlando was only able to make out the slight curve of his smile. His gaze traveled lower and he sighed softly when he also noticed the hard curve of the earl's erection.
But the noble seemed intent on Orlando's body, not on his own pleasure. His hands pushed up the coarse fabric of Orlando's tunic to touch the skin underneath.
Orlando did not expect them to recoil when he encountered the scar issue crisscrossing his stomach and chest. Still they did and Orlando closed his eyes, suddenly afraid that the earl would find him displeasing and ban him from his bed.
Instead the fingers returned, with much more caution this time, tracing the lines carved into Orlando's flesh, pushing the tunic further up and finally pulling it of, exposing his pale upper body to the earl's view.
The near dark concealed much but still there was a soft gasp from the noble.
"Who did this to you?" he asked his voice full of genuine concern.
Orlando did not want to answer that. He just wanted to lose himself in those blissfully gentle caresses. But obedience was too much ingrained in his life.
"The baron who was with you in the hallway, master." he answered truthfully.
"That beast!" the earl hissed, steel back in his voice. But Orlando felt no fear as the anger was clearly not directed at him.
Still he did not want to waste this night with pity or hatred. Morning would come too soon with a return to the bleak grey of his life. This night was a dream and he wanted to enjoy it.
So he pressed his hips upward to rub against the earl's groin and the man groaned in surprised pleasure. The contact sent heat racing through Orlando's body as well and he kept it, his head falling back, exposing his throat.
The earl's hands returned to stroking his body and to Orlando's surprise he felt himself grow hard as well. He had hoped that this would be 'not bad' but right now it was turning out to actually be good.
A low moan escaped his parted lips and was answered by a breathless chuckle from the earl. Then the noble bent down and kissed his open mouth, his tongue lapping at Orlando's lips, then finding its way inside his mouth, making Orlando shudder with delight. Nothing had ever felt that good.
For a long time their mouth remained locked to each other, drinking their breath from the other’s lungs till Orlando started feeling lightheaded.
Then the earl separated from him with a gasp, pressing his hot face against Orlando's cheek, his trimmed beard scratching against Orlando's skin slightly, making him tremble in sudden need.
"Please..." he whispered, not really sure what he was begging for and speaking out of turn for the first time in many years.
But the earl seemed to know exactly what it was that Orlando was asking for, as one of his hands found its way into his pants, closing around Orlando's hard flesh. The other nimbly opened the simple lacing of the pants and then pushed them down so skin was pressing against skin where the earl was still straddling the slave.
Orlando arched into the touch, moaning louder now. This was not about serving the noble anymore. It was about him and about what he wanted suddenly. And in the same instant he realized what he really wanted and cold dread mixed with his mounting passion. Because it could never be.
As if the earl has somehow picked up on his thoughts, his voice intruded into Orlando's clouded mind. "Tell me what you want, pretty one." he whispered, bending down again to kiss Orlando's ear and tickle it with his breath. "Make a wish."
Orlando turned his head, offering his ear for more kisses and at the same time hiding from the earl's intent gaze. He couldn't say it.
The earl licked along the shell of his ear gently, his tongue and breath warm. "Tell me, Orlando." he repeated, his hand continuing to stroke Orlando's hardness.
"Want you..." Orlando whispered, not sure where he took the courage from.
"Want me to take you?" the earl asked and Orlando felt his mouth twist into a smile on his ear.
Of course Orlando should have quickly agreed. But he kept silent for too long.
For a moment the earl's body stiffened against Orlando's as he realized what that silence meant and Orlando tensed, expecting the punishment he deserved for his insolence.
But instead a low chuckle shook the earl, his fist closing involuntarily on Orlando's cock, making Orlando shiver in desire.
"If that is what you wish for, beauty, it is what you shall have." the earl impossibly whispered against Orlando's ear.
Than he sat up again and Orlando watched with wide unbelieving eyes, as the noble above him reached behind himself to prepare himself, while his other hand continued his mesmerizing rhythm on Orlando's cock.
Tiny, incoherent sounds escaped Orlando's mouth with increasing frequency. He felt the need to touch the earl and his hands started roaming the taunt body, all hard planes and muscles. He just couldn't believe a noble would really gift him like that.
But his doubts shattered in a blazing sensation of pure pleasure, when the earl positioned himself over Orlando's cock and then slowly sank down on him, impaling himself. His head fell back and his moan was one of deep satisfaction, when he had taken all of Orlando inside himself.
Orlando whimpered helplessly. It just felt too good. He desperately craved more, his fingers clawing at the strong thighs of the man on top of him but the earl kept still and Orlando didn't dare move himself.
For a few long moments they remained motionless but then the tension grew to much for Orlando and he rocked upward slightly, making the earl groan again, this time in a mix of pleasure and pain that both horrified and enflamed Orlando.
"Slowly..." the noble gasped breathlessly, "...has been a long time..."
Orlando could believe neither that he had truly heard those words nor the fact that he had truly sheathed in the body of the noble above.
He kept still by sheer force of will till he felt the earl's tense body relax slightly. But only when the noble himself began to move did he dare meet his move downward with his of thrust up. Both gasped in joined pleasure.
Quickly restraint fled Orlando and the earl seemed to lose his tension as they met again and again, their bodies moving in unison now. Orlando's hands sought the earl's erection as he was sure he would not be able to hang on long. The earl arched into his touch, his muscles tensing, clenching around Orlando's cock, making him moan in turn.
Their moves grew more and more erratic as they both neared their peek. Finally Orlando couldn't take anymore. Burying himself with one hard shove to the hilt he came, filling the noble with his seed. He was quickly followed by the earl who came with a deep, throaty growl of pleasure, his fingers digging into Orlando's shoulders who for once did not mind the pain at all.
Then the earl collapsed on top of him, clinging to Orlando, his face buried against the slave's neck, breathing hard. Orlando's arms closed around the man without thought, holding him.
Still he was a bit surprised when he heard the earl's whisper against his neck. "Thank you."
Slowly the noble lifted off him to then curl up next to Orlando. They held each other close in silence. There seemed to be nothing either could say that could express their feelings.
Comfortable in the warm afterglow of their passion they both fell asleep quickly.
---
Morning light found Orlando furiously scrubbing at a large blood stain on the wall of the great hall. The hall had been a place of carnage when Orlando had gotten there this morning. None of the pleasure slaves had survived the night. It had taken them the better part of the morning sunless hours to drag away the dead.
But for once it had not been able to touch Orlando's heart. In there he had safely stored the night he had spent and he would forever treasure it.
He had stolen out of the earl's chambers when he had been woken by the tolling of the servants bell. He did not want to risk the earl's wrath, should he have changed his mind. Maybe he would not find their love making as pleasing in the light of day as he had in the dark of the night.
"You, Orli!" the hard voice of the slave driver overseeing the work in the great hall pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to find the man towering above him, whip in hand, and a bad feeling spread in his guts.
"One of the guests has asked for you as a parting gift. His coach his waiting in the yard. Move your pretty ass out there." the man announced with a cruel grin.
The baron. It had to be the baron.
Cold dread closed around Orlando's heart, quenching whatever flame he had managed to keep alive. The cleaning rag fell from his numb fingers as he got to his feet. A hard shove from the slave driver propelled him towards the exit of the great hall and towards his doom.
His feet felt impossibly heavy, but the shoves from the slave driver kept him moving. He blinked into the bright light of the morning sun, when he stepped outside.
Then his gaze fixed on the coach and he felt tears of fear prick his eyes. Nearly blind with the tears and the light he made his way over to the coach.
The door stood open and the servant waiting next to the door motioned him to get inside.
Taking a deep breath did not help to calm his heart rate.
Still he moved. There was nothing else he could have done.
The coach's inside was shadowy, its sole occupant not immediately recognizable. But Orlando's other senses were wide awake. And what they told him was impossible as well as wonderful. For his nose told him that this man was not the baron but the man who he had slept entwined with this night.
Then a long, lean arm snaked out, grabbing him and pulling into a tight hug.
"Silly boy." the gentle voice of the earl admonished. "The baron could have caught you just as well."
Orlando just snuggled up to him as close as he could, hardly able to believe his good fortune. Was he truly to belong to this man now? To this one noble he could serve without fear and maybe even with growing love in his heart.
"Don't ever run away from me again, Orlando." the earl continued, nuzzling Orlando's neck. "Will you promise that?"
"Yes, master." Orlando replied without hesitation, melting into the touch.
He felt the earl smile against his neck. "Good." he sighed. "And Orlando? Please just call me Viggo. At least when we are alone."
At that Orlando made his first attempt ever at a cheeky grin. "Yes, master." he said meekly and Viggo smiled.