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The World Stands Still

Chapter 13

Charles frowned as the marquis pressed slowly and steadily inside, thick and wet with the saliva of his eager tongue. They lay on their sides under the coverlet, moving together as moonlight spilled through the open window. Dick's strong arm hugged Charles tight around the chest, and he kissed his cheek, his neck. His paw stroked the smaller hound's hard organ with loving fingers. Charles moaned weakly. His white mane was in hooded eyes and his glasses were fogged and askew. He would have taken them off, but Dick always insisted he leave them on. Even now, Dick reached around and adjusted Charles' glasses. He kissed Charles' ear and stroked his hard phallus again, his fingers firm and coaxing.

Charles gasped into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt himself responding readily to every skilled caress and thought he might burst. Or scream. Both would have been painfully humiliating. No doubt there were servants listening on the other side of the wall. Charles' personal maid Sarah was fond of doing so, which was why he made certain the girl stayed in the kitchen scrubbing pots long after supper.

Charles bit his lip. "R-Richard . . .?"

"However you want it, love."

Charles could hear the smile in his lover's voice. He closed his eyes and nodded into the pillow. His fur was slick with sweat and clung tight over the toned muscles of his young body. He could feel Dick's rippling belly press hard against him when the marquis lovingly brushed his tail aside. Dick's arm tightened around Charles' chest. He buried his face in Charles' neck, and with a grunt, started to pound him hard and fast. Charles felt his hard-on flapping. He gritted his teeth and his nails tore the pillowcase. He swore. The maids would be twittering about that for weeks.

Dick laughed softly. "Oh darling . . . I'll buy you another . . . silk . . . this time . . ." he panted.

"Ah . . . ah, Richard . . . touch . . ."

Charles didn't need to finish his sentence. He never did. Dick fumbled for him under the coverlet and massaged his hard-on from base to head. His incredible fingers rolled Charles' scrotum, then smoothed to the head of his penis and fondled it as watery pre-cum oozed.

"You're like a fire hose. So much pressure . . ." Dick teased.

Charles shivered as Dick kissed his shoulder, his neck. The marquis slammed inside relentlessly now, and Charles knew he wouldn't stop until he had succumbed.

Charles wondered why he wasn't giving in. He knew he was probably red in the face. But Dick's fingers felt so good on him, he didn't want it to end. A tear filled his eye as he realized . . . it was going to have to end.

"Charles darling . . . in my paw . . ."

"R-Richard . . . oh god, touch me like that . . ." Charles closed his eyes and grimaced as he squirted. Behind him, Dick cried out and his hot seed rushed to fill him. They panted into the silence that followed, manes in their eyes and chest heaving. Dick didn't remove his arm from around Charles, instead pulling him to his chest. Charles dropped his cheek on Dick's round pectoral and closed his eyes. He smiled sadly when Dick kissed his head and stroked his mane.

"Charlie!" Dick cried when his paw found his lover's cheek. "Is this a tear?"

"No, it's my allergies," Charles said at once. He sat up and fumbled on the nightstand for his kerchief. He could feel Dick's gaze on his back like fire. "Stop staring at me, Richard," he complained and quickly dabbed his face. When he glanced over his shoulder, Dick was lying on his back, frowning. He looked so handsome in the moonlight, his red mane loose around his square jaw and powerful shoulders, his intense eyes like flames. Charles was shorter, more slender, and always felt overpowered in the strength of Dick's arms. But he always felt safe too. Tonight, however, he couldn't stop the tears.

"You start crying and I'm supposed to ignore it? You're as mad as your sister. And here I am, stuck between the two of you."

"It's my allergies, I said," Charles snapped.

Dick laughed softly. "What a terrible little liar you are," he said, rubbing his rippling belly. He drew his knees up under the coverlet and patted one playfully. "Come sit on Daddy's lap. He'll sort it out."

Charles scowled. "Shut up!"

"Mm. So this is serious . . ."

Charles could hear Dick sitting up behind him. He smoothed his paw soothingly along Charles' shoulder and down his arm. He kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, "Charlie? What's the matter?"

"What do you think? Evie wouldn't come to supper! When I went to coax her out, she was crying like I've never seen. And for the first time in our lives . . ." Charles shook his head and stared off miserably. "There was nothing I could do or say to make her laugh. Nothing." His lip trembled and he wiped away his tears with fumbling paws.

"Oh Charlie . . ." Dick moaned and pressed his forehead to the back of Charles' shoulder.

"I c-can't let her go the king," Charles said unhappily, his voice thick with tears. "The queen will . . ."

"So . . . you're proposing that I marry her after all."

Charles felt the misery welling up inside him to hear the dull defeat in Dick's voice. When Evelyn announced she was giving herself to the king, they had both been appalled. But they had also begun to realize what it could mean for them if she went. The king had been asking for Evelyn for years. Foxhounds were of superb breeding, and the Kingsleys were no exception. What was more, the queen could not produce an heir. A bitch who produced one for the king would be more than compensated: she would spend the rest of her life a princess.

"I thought we discussed this," Dick complained, and Charles heard the pillows thump when he flopped on his back again. He didn't have to look to know Dick had tossed a disgusted paw, that his lip was curled, that he was angry. He was intimately familiar with all of Dick's quirks, right down to the way his nose wrinkled when he was especially irritated.

"If Evie gives herself over to his majesty, she'll be provided for the rest of her life. It's what Uncle Verneus would have wanted. It's what I want," Dick went on. Charles heard him strike a match. Soft glowing light shimmered on the corner of Charles' vision: Dick was lighting candles. The marquis snorted contemptuously. "If Big Tits is too high and mighty to marry the likes of me, let her saunter off to the king. We can be together if she does. Isn't that what you want, baby?"

Charles swallowed miserably. "What about what she wants, Dick?"

"Hmm . . ." Dick laughed flatly. "What the bloody hell does that girl want? I've known her since I was swaddled and can't figure it out for the life of me. She wants a bitch. Is that it? Evelyn prefers four sets of lips and not two."

Charles laughed tonelessly as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Don't make light, Richard. This is serious. I can't let her make the worst mistake of her life by riding off to the king. If you only saw the way she was crying . . ." He shook his head. "I've never seen her cry like that. Not since Father died."

A silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sound of a clock ticking. Outside, crickets chirped and the breeze rustled the trees. The moon was large and the black sky salted with stars. Charles saw a bird fly across the moon and thought of Evelyn, trapped in her gilded cage, unable to escape the inevitable marriage because she was a female. And females had no right to fly.

"We both knew this day was coming, Charlie," Dick said behind him. His voice was soft, soothing, and Charles felt himself relax a little when he rubbed his back. "If she wasn't going to marry me, it was going to be someone else. Evelyn always knew she couldn't be with a bitch. Especially not some trollop who works for her. What was that girl's name? Darla or some other?"

Charles sighed. "Daisy. Her name was Daisy, Richard."

"What do you need me to do?" Dick said after a pause. Charles could hear the submission in his voice, as if he'd go fetch the stars in a net if Charles but asked. "You don't want her going to the king, so I won't let her. She'll stay here and marry me."

"You'd do that for me?"

Dick moaned.

Charles smiled sadly at his lap. He was still sitting with his back to Dick, still fumbling with his glasses. He slipped them on his nose and smiled over his shoulder. "Getting cold feet?"

"She's my cousin," Dick said darkly.

"I'm your cousin," Charles reminded him.

Dick laughed, the light spreading to his eyes as Charles stretched out on the coverlet and dropped his head in his lap. Dick stroked Charles' mane. "You're not really my cousin," he said, looking down at his lover fondly. "That's how we got into this mess."

Charles closed his eyes, smiling as Dick stroked his mane. "If I was your cousin, I'd be the one getting married."

"Yes, I'd be getting shafted either way. No matter how you slice it, poor Dick loses something."

"D'you really love my sister?" Charles whispered.

"Inbreeding is something of a tradition among the family, you know that, Charlie," Dick answered. "We marry cousin to cousin, generation after generation. If our pure foxhound blood was tainted, well, we'd lose everything. So I was set to marry Evelyn the moment I was born."

"Yes," Charles said darkly. "The fact that I had no betrothed made it crystal clear everyone knew I wasn't . . . purebred."

"Who was your mother, Charlie?" Dick whispered. He looked down at Charles with soft eyes, his fingers playfully twirling a curl of his mane. "I see nothing but Uncle Verneus in you."

"Because you're looking for something you wouldn't recognize," Charles answered, amused. "My mother was a greyhound. She fled here during a war in the desert. They tell me Father was head over tail for her. She was exotic . . . beautiful . . . and a terrible mother. I can't remember a time when she spoke more than two words to me. When I was old enough to talk, I called her Mother. I thought she and the duchess were both my mother, you see," he said, smiling sadly. "The duchess didn't like that. She sent my mother packing."

"Did you cry?" Dick whispered sadly.

Charles glanced up and saw he was frowning.

"I cried when Mother sent my brother away," Dick whispered. He smiled. "I'm still crying."

Charles took Dick's paw and kissed the fingers.

When Dick was a boy, his older brother was a drunk and a lout not unlike Dick himself, constantly in and out of brothels, sleeping with servants, and throwing drunken tantrums. The Duchess Giselle finally said enough was enough and sent Dick's brother away. The last they heard of Edward, he had joined the service and was stationed far north, where the snow dogs ran their sleighs. Duchess Giselle returned his letters unopened, and eventually, he stopped writing. Dick had been under the belief for years that his brother was, in fact, dead.

"No, I didn't cry," Charles answered. "Because she didn't give me a reason to." He smiled and hated himself when his lip trembled. "Ah," he said, waving a paw. "My mother isn't important. The Duchess Victoria was my mother. Because she's the one who loved me. And . . ." He laughed. "You didn't answer my question."

"I didn't, did I?" Dick said and smiled. He looked away, his eyes almost dreamy. "I think it's rather evident that I care for you both. The first time I saw Evelyn, I was about four. Glenhowler is pretty far from here, mind you, so four might have been too young to make the journey. But my mother insisted she had a surprise for me.

"We arrived here in Howlester, and Aunty Victoria couldn't stop pinching my cheeks and Uncle Verneus was so proud that I'd grown into a strong little boy. I remember blurting that my mother had a surprise for me and begging to see it. Everyone laughed. My mother took me by the paw and led me upstairs, to the nursery, where Evelyn was sleeping in her crib." Dick laughed softly. "She was so beautiful even then, that precious white bundle snuggled down in her blankets . . . My mother smiled at me and told me she was mine. And that one day, I would marry her. And it would be my duty to love and protect her. I looked at Evelyn and decided that she was indeed mine. And that I did indeed love her. And . . . I never stopped."

Charles sat up and cleared his throat. "And yet . . . you want her to skip off to the bloody king?" He sat back against the pillows, regarding Dick.

Dick shrugged moodily and looked away. "She doesn't love me, Charlie. And we both know there's nothing more god-awful than a loveless marriage." Eyes glittering anger, he plucked a cigar from the nightstand, and after twirling it in his fingers, lit it on one of the candles.

Charles watched Dick unhappily as his words sank home: if Duke Verneus had been happy in his marriage, Charles would not even exist.

"That hurt, Richard," Charles said after a pause. He folded his arms, watching calmly as Dick puffed angrily on his cigar.

Dick's chest heaved with an incredulous laugh. He blinked at Charles as if he hadn't heard him right. "Excuse me, love, but I'm not the one who just asked you to marry his sister! I want to be with you, Charles. For years, I've thought of nothing else. Then you tell me we can finally be together only to turn around the next night and tell me to marry your sister? I've half a mind to say to hell with this and refugee north. To hell with Mother and to hell with all of you. She'll never speak to me again if I run, but I'm starting to think I prefer it that way." His eyes darkened as he tapped ashes into the ashtray waiting on the nightstand.

"Turnip . . ."

"Don't you _Turnip_me. You can't placate me, Charlie. Don't try it."

Charles sighed. "I don't know what else to do for her!"

"Marrying me is no better than marrying the king, apparently," Dick said with a dry laugh. "That's why she was crying, love."

"If she marries you, at least she can stay home with me, perhaps still have her females on the side. Daisy left her, but maybe we can find a female for her that will stay. I just want her to be happy."

Dick exhaled a swirl of smoke. "You should keep that vixen on as her personal pussy. She's bloody delightful."

Charles glared. "I doubt Evie would want to share her with you - and I doubt I'd want to share you with her!"

Dick grinned and lifted his empty paw in surrender. "A bit late for jealousy, Charlie."

Charles' eyes narrowed angrily. "Tell me you didn't fuck that fox --!"

"Baby --"

"Ugh!"

Dick failed to dodge the pillow that collided with his face. His cigar tumbled across the bed, burning a hole in the sheet where it stopped. Charles stopped beating Dick long enough to beat the flames out. They sat panting and disheveled, their heavy breaths loud in the silence.

"Why do I put up with your shit?" Charles demanded.

Dick rubbed his nose in the young duke's neck. "Because you love me?"

Charles looked away. "But do you love me?" Before Dick could answer, he scooted to the edge of the bed and snatched his robe. He was pushing his arm through the sleeve when Dick said behind him, "So much it hurts."

Charles looked around and blinked: Dick had never told him he loved him before. The marquis was sitting up, his elbows resting on his knees, his muscular chest bare, and his red mane tumbling around an earnest face. His eyes were sad and intense. But they were smiling too.

"When I'm with you," Dick said, "the world stands still. I know a peace inside I've never known with anyone else. You . . . quiet something in me." He smiled. "I like the way the world is when you're near."

Charles smiled back. Damn him. "So what's your excuse for the fox?" he said, determined to be angry as he jerked to his feet. He closed his robe and pulled the belt tight, awaiting an explanation with lifted brows.

"She's one of the wretches that attacked me the night I went in the forest with Haskell. Left me to die in a tree." Dick's lip curled as he gathered the cigar stub and dropped it in the ashtray.

Charles frowned as he tightened his robe. "You didn't hurt her, did you?"

Dick scowled and waved a paw. "No. I gave her the boning of her life." He smiled. "I do believe she quite enjoyed herself."

Charles rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Where are you going?" Dick demanded and caught his paw.

"I haven't checked on Evie since before supper. And one of us has got to tell her the . . . news."

"I'll tell her."

Charles cocked an eyebrow. "So you can come back with your balls in your pocket?"

"We have just decided we aren't going to allow Evie to give herself to the king. She doesn't like being told what to do. Better my balls than yours."

Charles folded his arms. "Alright. Be gentle with her, Richard," he said as Dick climbed from the bed. He helped the marquis pull on his robe, and with a cold face, tried to ignore the arousing sight of his round pectorals, his rippling belly, the soft brown penis that lay quietly over his dark scrotum.

Standing over Charles as the shorter hound tied his robe on for him, Dick smiled and touched the back of his fingers to his cheek. He lifted the duke's chin and looked at his lips. He was leaning in for a kiss when Charles held him at bay.

Charles frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Stop being angry and just kiss me. Or keep being angry. It's bloody adorable."

"You unbelievable bastard! You fool around on me I don't know how many times, and then just expect- mm!"

Dick leaned in, and closing Charles in his arms, he kissed him hungrily.

"You . . . can't just . . ." Charles panted irritably.

Dick closed a paw between his thighs. "Mm . . . you got a little hard. Wait for me. When I come back, I'm going to suck your cock."

Charles blushed to his white mane. He averted his eyes and adjusted his glasses. "Just get out of here! I've half a mind to tell you not to come back."

"But I will come back," Dick said, amused. "And you'll let me make love to you again."

Charles turned away. "Get out."

"Because you love me," Dick said to his back. "And god help me, I love you too." With that, he tied his robe shut and left the room, taking the hot scent of his fur and phallus with him.