Captain General Gustavo de Monteblanco sat behind his massive oak desk. He wore a Burgundy doublet that enhanced his swarthy complexion, and he daydreamed about Fernando de Montenegro. How those broad shoulders would melt under his teeth, how delightfully that porcelain skin would feel as he caress it with his beard, smelling the delicious aroma of oranges that he now associated with the brawny new Oidor.
It was a heavenly vision the way Fernando had blushed when the back of his breeches ripped, exposing his tasty crevice. He acted like the proper widower, but there was something truly naughty in him by going about without undergarments.
It would have been madness not to take advantage of that fortuitous event. Although now he regretted a little the way he forced his finger inside the chestnut-haired chunk. He could not help it; the temptation had been overwhelming. Yes, the man had fought, but not too much. That gave him Hope. Well, Fernando also hinted there was some kind of attraction. Cauldrons of Hell, damned Christian scruples. Anyway, Fernando had accepted the invitation to the wedding. By the time they would come back from those nuptials he might be as well undergoing his own honeymoon.
A knock on the door interrupted his calculations. “What now?”
“Captain General, señor, The Marquis of Villalba is requesting an audience with your Excellency. May it be granted?”
His lover, what a nuisance. “Allow him to enter. Do you have your rosary?”
The old man dithered and answered in a tiny voice. “Yes, señor, it’s in my pocket.”
“Very good, meditate a Mystery. I don’t care which, and then interrupt us with any excuse, just imply that I’m needed somewhere else.” He frowned to the old man.
His secretary turned on his heels and left the office murmuring, “Credo in Deum Patrem omnipoténtem...”
The affronted lover stormed into the office taking his hat off. His blond hair was disheveled, and his olive skin flushed. He slumped tragically in a chair facing the desk.
Captain General Monteblanco gave the man a mellow smile, ready to disarm him. “What can I do for you this day, Fermín?”
“My problem is not with the days but with the nights. Why are you avoiding me?”
“I don’t understand...” His smile grew bigger, full of fake concern.
The blond man grumbled. “Your door has been closed for the last four nights. What is going on?
“I slept by myself all those nights. I must have forgotten to unlock your entrance.” It was a lie, but he was not going to explain to his lover that his nights were busy with the memory of the new Oidor. Besides, he needed release, and he could use the seasoned partner that night.
“I think you have another lover, and I will not allow it.” Dark blue eyes shot arrows at him.
He stood up and paced with menacing slowness toward his lover. He gripped the man by the chin, pulling him up. “You’re not the one to decide if I’d choose a new lover or not.” He grated his words forcing a kiss without unfasten the grip. “My door would be open for you tonight. Don’t miss your chance...”
He jerked his lover back to the chair, and walked toward the door, in that moment his secretary knocked and entered urging him to go to one of the courtrooms.
“Yes, the marquis was already leaving. Good day, Don Fermín. The night will be a lot better.”
He laughed keeping the door open until his lover left the room.
“Where is Oidor Montenegro?
“In his office, Captain General, señor, I guess studying the laws since he doesn’t have any hearings until after you two will have returned from the wedding. As you ordered.”
“Very well, I’m going to be with him for a while. I wish not to be disturbed.”
He left his secretary standing agape. He had not seen Fernando since the presentation day, and he was certainly desperate to be alone with him again. Maybe he could get more than a chaste kiss this time, and that buttery sensation on his finger was not easy to remove. His cock was engorging again inside his breeches remembering the way Fernando had fought.
He rapped softly, and the pale god called him in. Fernando de Montenegro sat on the edge of his desk reading a parchment and looked up. His eyes illuminated when he discovered him. He was in his severe mourning black, but beautiful as an angel.
A true virgin, Fernando blushed as Captain General Monteblanco drew closer.
I’d like to know if his little hole clenches while his face blushes.
“Good morning, Captain General, beautiful day...”
“I told you to call me Gustavo in private.” He took the parchment from the pale hands and settled it carefully on the desk, staring into the emerald pools.
“This is the second time we’ve been in private. I’ve hardly had the chance to get use to that name.” Fernando smiled nervously flashing his pretty, pretty white teeth.
Captain General Monteblanco took one of those sinfully big hands. He kissed the knuckles, admiring the coppery, tiny hairs there.
“Thus you haven’t thought of me at all?” He felt shaken for some unexplained reason.
Fernando took his hand away slowly, politely, and rested it over the Burgundy shoulder.
“I’ve considered you a lot, these days. More than you’d ever know.”
Happiness washed over his body. What a strange sensation, the green-eyes-god squeezed his shoulder gently, and slid his hand to his neck feeling his pulse with a delicate press.
“But I must humbly beg for your forgiveness. I’m afraid I’d need more time to muster enough courage to forget eons of Christian devotion.”
Cauldrons of Hell. Captain General Monteblanco trembled as the other man caressed his beard, his brow, the top of his head and his nape. A thumb played over his lips, and he did not know when he closed his eyes. He opened them to be enthralled by the most spectacular smile heightened by that flirty little mole beside the lower lip and tiny, tiny freckles over the straight nose.
“I... I can... wait...” He stammered without recognizing himself.
“Thank you.” Fernando sidled and sat behind his desk, unruffled.
“Can I have at least a kiss?” He was a desperate enamored boy.
“The kiss I gave you, a hundred years ago, is still searing my lips. I’d not be able to resist another, please forgive me.” Fernando lowered his eyelids in a devastating act of contrition.
Captain General Monteblanco fought to regain his consciousness and behave as an adult, not a teenager in love. “The wedding will be held by the lake, it would be a delightful moment. Do you think you could wear something other than black? It’s bad luck to go to a wedding in mourning.”
“What is your favorite color,” there was a pause. “Gustavo?” The angel arched an eyebrow.
“Perfect.” Fernando murmured cryptically.
That night, the Marquis of Villalba was loved like never before. His expertise was not the reason.
It was because the man, who mounted him, was tousling and grabbing lustrous chestnut hair. Biting and kneading gloriously pale, porcelain skin with the fragrance of oranges.
Captain General Monteblanco made love to someone else.