Jus Primae Noctis Chapter 6
Enjoying the freedom of solitude, the exhausted Walker gradually drifted into the land of dreams --- this was the first time he had felt so comfortable in days. Although the evil Wiltshire had not demanded to make love to him for the last couple of days, but every night, he still forced him to strip naked and share the same bed as him. Furthermore, once on the bed, Wiltshire would wantonly feel him up and manipulate his body, making it impossible for Walker to have a restful sleep.
“Dong dong dong… [1]” The strange noises coming from the window startled him from the cosy state of being half-awake and half-asleep, thwarting his hopes of having a peaceful night. He struggled to his feet and went to open the window, but the sight that met his eyes was a face that he did not expect to see at all.
“Hello [2], Darling, were you already asleep?” Barely dressed, wearing a dressing gown, Wiltshire climbed through the window with a roguish smile on his face. Because of the cold, he constantly stamped his foot on the floorboards and proceeded to nestle into Walker's quilt, completely without obtaining Walker's approval.
“Oh my god! It’s so cold that I could die. Why did Franklin assign you to such a place, it’s all his fault that I nearly froze to death while looking for you. But fortunately, I still managed to find you!” Wiltshire gave a sniff of his nose and extended a hand to toss away his dressing gown; it was only at this juncture that Walker discovered that underneath his dressing gown, Wiltshire was totally naked.
“Aren’t you cold, quickly get in here!” The person who had caused others to get chilled still had the audacity to play host even though he was really an uninvited guest. With a warm attitude, he lifted up the corner of the quilt and graciously invited the actual owner of the bed to share it with him.
Although he really did not wish to be hemmed in with Wiltshire in a crowded space, the autumn nights of London were really too cold for him to be standing around in just his undershirt and underpants. After hesitating for a while, Walker finally got under the quilt.
The moment he lay his body down, Wiltshire extended an arm and embraced him.
“Why are you still wearing these things, they just get in the way?” The same time as his lips were making complaints, his hands were pulling off Walker's pants.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The sudden feeling of having their lower bodies pressed against each other caused Walker's face to flush red immediately. He wanted to free himself from the other man's hand, which was clutching his genitals, but he couldn't move because Wiltshire was clamping down on that vital point firmly.
“What I mean to do… shouldn’t that be very clear?” Wiltshire propped up his upper body and looked down into Walker's eyes, aided by the light of the moon. Bathed in the gentle and pure illumination, his insurmountably gorgeous green eyes sparked with a poignant incandescence; in that moment, Walker was so shaken by his beauty that he found that he was unable to speak.
“Don’t gaze at me with that look in your eyes…” Wiltshire gave a soft sigh, and shifted his body over to press down upon Walker, “If you keep on looking at me like that, I’m going to devour you…” His voice was low and full of bewitchery, as if he were the serpent that had tempted Eve to eat the apple.
Not waiting for Walker to make any reply, he bent his head down and kissed Walker on his full and plump lips. In the stillness and silence of the late night, the sounds of Wiltshire sucking on the tip of his tongue could be heard clearly, and Walker could distinctly feel his lower abdomen being prodded by Wiltshire's sex organ, which had already grown erect.
Originally, he had thought that he had been given the rare chance to have a good night’s sleep tonight, but from the looks of it, Wiltshire had not intended to let him off from the very start --- the feeling of friction caused by the Marquess's glabrous skin constantly rubbing against his own caused Walker, who had already tasted the pleasure that sex could bring, to also become excited, albeit involuntarily.
Though aggrieved to feel that desire was burning throughout his body, bringing with it a contradictory blend --- humiliation and pleasure --- of feelings, it still caused Walker to be unable to keep himself from tightly hugging the body that was pressing down upon his own. There was a tenderness revealed in the movements of Wiltshire's hands that had never before existed, but within that tenderness, there was also an urgency which had been created by abstinence over the past few days.
Subjugated by the irresistible desire, the low sounds of Walker's gasps echoed throughout the room, even the still air seemed to be ignited by their passion. Boiling-hot sweat slowly seeped out from Wiltshire's forehead, neck and body, mingling with Walker's; this was ironclad evidence of the extremely intimate relationship between the two men.
After thoroughly caressing the Scotsman's body with his lips and hands, Wiltshire found that he had gradually become unable to control his own lust. Finally unable to restrain himself any longer, he reached out to lift both of Walker's legs and then, he buried his desire into his body deeply.
“Ah… ah…” Although he had already had to endure this kind of pain countless times, but to be a man who was penetrated by another man, Walker found the anguish caused by his predicament to be intolerable, both physically and mentally. He could not help but to cry out because of the pain, and at the same time, Walker's hands were clutching tightly at the sheets under his body.
Telling himself not to do things in a headlong rush like he had the previous times, Wiltshire reigned in his desire that was clamouring for release, as if his life depended upon it. With excruciatingly slow movements, he pushed his penis into Walker's body bit by bit, gradually reaching the very depths. At the very moment when it was completely inside Walker, he stilled and stopped moving, until he felt the muscles that were enveloping him tightly become accustomed to the intrusion. Only then did he begin to move his body in a slow rhythm.
Walker had screwed his eyes shut; without fail, at times like this, his entire consciousness would seem to be concentrated on that area where he was coupled with Wiltshire --- burning and scalding, the feeling of his muscles contracting before being forcibly stretched apart, extreme pain and humiliation were combined with pleasure that he could hardly bring himself to admit to... the resulting mixture of emotions was a complicated cocktail that made him want to drift with the waves and go with the flow.
“Walker… can you read?” As Wiltshire zealously continued his pistoning movements, he asked a question that had absolutely no relevance to the present circumstances or atmosphere.
At this moment, Walker was existing in a state of being where he had been completely taken over by Wiltshire. His brain felt like a ball of mush; he tried desperately to think, but for the life of him, he could not figure out Wiltshire's intentions.
In the end, unable to puzzle out Wiltshire's real purpose in asking that question, he could only choose to answer truthfully.
“Yes… my father… Father was once… once a teacher in the village, he taught… he taught me some…” Being tossed around by Wiltshire's rocking movements had caused Walker's brain to be in complete chaos, to the extent that he was unable to complete his sentence.
“Oh, that’s good.” Wiltshire seemed to be quite satisfied with his answer, without saying anything more, he began to concentrate his attention on the activity between the two of them. Wiltshire increased the speed at which he plunged in and out of Walker's body, and had to bite down on his own lips, desperately restraining himself from giving in to the urge, brought on by the intense pleasure, to shout out. Concentrating all of his desire into that hardness on his lower body, the simple but deeply affecting movements --- deep thrusts coupled with shallow withdrawals --- eventually became numerous blasts of boiling love fluids that he shot into Walker's body.
“Oh god, if every single one of our love-making sessions is going to be so explosive, I think I will not be able to live past thirty!” Dramatically lamenting that the pleasure had been so intense, he gave a long exhale and slowly rolled off Walker's body. He took the Scotsman, who was holding his body in a stiff posture, into his embrace, and quietly revelled in the fact that Walker's body now carried traces of Wiltshire's own scent.
“Why did you ask me that?” Walker's entire body still had remnants of the astounding pleasure that had coursed through him like electric shocks during their love-making and it was quite some time before he had a dim memory of the question posed by Wiltshire.
“Nothing much, it was just a casual question.” Wiltshire gently stroked his lover's broad back with his hand and his heart began to perceive something vaguely --- destiny had decreed that his relationship with Walker was not going to be as simple as he had originally thought; it was not going to be some fleeting liaison where the two players were loosely bound together only through sexual desire, perhaps it would last for a much longer time than he had originally expected.
Licking slowly at the soft spot behind Walker's ear, feeling the male body in his arms begin to quake because of this action, he sensed the irresistible heat begin to circulate in his lower abdomen once again...
Always an acolyte of his own desires, Wiltshire would, of course, not hesitate at all before choose to press Walker under his body once again. What was different this time was that the Scotsman was clearly not as submissive as he had been during their last round of love-making. However, although Walker tried to put up some resistance, he was quickly subdued by the Marquess; in the end, he still yielded to his caresses and allowed the Marquess to enter his body from behind. After moving with an intense rhythm repeatedly, Wiltshire finally unleashed all of his blazing passion inside his body.
And so, after this scene had played out for several more times, the two men were utterly exhausted and finally journeyed to slumberland while locked in a tight embrace. Although the pillows and blankets he was lying on gave off a musty smell, the Marquess still had a very sweet and beautiful dream that night --- in his dream, Walker was no longer a Scotsman who was destined to live his life apart from him, separated by the divides of class and gender. Instead, he had transformed into a sweet angel who frolicked playfully with him in a vast, verdant grassland. Although he was still immersed in a dream, Wiltshire could not help but to laugh aloud, delighted by Walker's sweetness and gentle amenability.
“Damn it, Wiltshire, I demand that you wake up immediately! God, what the hell are you laughing at? It will be morning soon if you don't get up now...”
Reality is cruel.
It was nearly dawn when Wiltshire was rudely shaken awake by Walker, interrupting his lovely dreams. For the reason that he was loathe to have his relationship with the Marquess made known to other people, he heartlessly kicked the Marquess out of his room.
Wiltshire cut a sorry figure as he ran through the gardens to his room, wearing only his dressing gown. Along the way, in addition to having to endure the bitingly-cold winds, he also had to take precautions to evade the eyes and ears of anybody who might be up and about. By the time he was finally back in his own opulently appointed bed, he couldn't help but to give several violent sneezes.
Although it was both exhausting and awkward, but for the next few nights, Wiltshire continued to sneak into Walker's room to make love with him. The little house had already become very fresh and welcoming, thanks to Walker's diligent housekeeping, but what gave Wiltshire the greatest thrill was the furtiveness of having to be stealthy.
In addition to their intimate interactions at night, during the day, Wiltshire would drag Walker to cruise around all corners of London, sightseeing and having fun; however, the splendour of this bustling and immoral city confused the Scotsman. Although he enjoyed first-rate luxuries and entertainment whenever he was with the Marquess, but every day, he would still invariably ask Wiltshire when he was going to recommend him for a job.
At first, helping Walker get a job had merely been an excuse that he casually concocted for the sake of bringing Walker with him to London. Although he did indeed have the ability to arrange for him to work at a shipping company, but by this time, the Marquess had gotten hopelessly addicted to the Scotsman’s strong body and pure soul, and was not at all willing to let him leave his side and become some kind of dratted sailor.
But continuing to procrastinate and trying to fob Walker off could not possibly an adequate solution in the long-term. That afternoon, the Marquess received an invitation card that could provide the catalyst for finally putting an end to this pickle he was in.
The invitation had been sent by the Prince Regent. Truth be told, after returning to London, the Marquess had simply shoved the matter of going to visit the Prince Regent to the very back of his mind. After waiting in vain for Wiltshire to visit him for the past few days, the Prince Regent had finally become unable to keep his impatience in check. Taking the opportunity to host a ball, he used the chance it afforded him to meet with Wiltshire under the guise of respectability.
After receiving the invitation, Wiltshire had been filled with anxiety over the prospect of meeting with the Prince Regent for a good part of the day but Walker still kept on pestering him, wanting to discuss the matter of finding a job for him. A sudden flash of inspiration struck the Marquess, and he handily dragged Walker out the front door, before leading him to the most prestigious tailor [3] in London.
“Find this gentleman a few things that will fit him. He needs jackets, trousers, shirts, cravats [4] and also hats and shoes... we want everything.” The moment they had entered the shop, the Marquess pushed the Scotsman in front of the merchant who had came up to give them a warm welcome.
After a few hours, when Walker emerged in front of the Marquess with a brand new look, Wiltshire was so surprised by his transformation that his chin nearly hit the floor.
The strapping Scotsman was now dressed in a spanking new velvet jacket of pure black, a snowy-white shirt and cravat that played up his bronzed skin and chiselled facial features perfectly, form-fitting trousers that clung tightly to his well-muscled thighs... When his gaze fell upon Walker's sensual lips, Wiltshire believed that even the most virtuous ladies in London would be willing to lift their skirts up, right there in the streets, for a man with such a untamed nature and so full of sex appeal.
“They gave you a haircut?” Unfortunately, the Marquess's reaction was not any better than that of the women he had been imagining. His throat was dry, making it almost impossible for him to say anything; in addition, he did not dare to rise up from the chair because his groin had become heated and distended.
“It was just a little trim, my Lord. The original length of Mr Robinson's hair was too long, obscuring his features. It is a lot better after having been cut, is that not so?” The clothing merchant stepped forward with a winning attitude to offer an explanation; evidently he was immensely pleased with makeover he had given to Walker.
Wide-eyed and dumbstruck, Wiltshire continued staring at Walker, and began to second-guess himself, wondering if his decision to bring Walker to the ball had been wise.
“Sir…” The merchant began to panic slightly as he looked at the expression on Wiltshire's face.
Wiltshire gave a wave of his hand, and using a deliberately casual tone of voice, he said: “There is no need for him to try on the rest of the articles. Just have them wrapped up, and charge the cost to my account.”
Hurriedly bidding the merchant --- who was grinning from ear to ear --- goodbye, Wiltshire bundled the Scotsman up the horse carriage. Due to the lust he was feeling, his usually translucent green eyes had taken on the hue and opacity of a piece of turquoise. Unable to exercise restraint any longer, Wiltshire could not keep himself from crushing Walker's lips against his own fiercely.
The degree of zeal that Henry, the Prince Regent [5], had for parties was something that was well-known by every single person living in London. Naturally, his residence, the Bulanmu Palace [6], would also contain the most luxuriously furnished ballroom in the whole of England.
It would seem that a large-scale soiree was held in Bulanmu Palace almost every week. But although they were held with such frequency, the aristocrats in London still view receiving an invite to one of the Prince Regent's parties as an honour. After all, almost everybody who wielded true power and authority in England would make an appearance at these parties.
Besides being known as "the Westminster of the night hours [7]" because almost all of the important personages in England would gather here at night, Bulanmu Palace was also the venue of choice for young upper-crust girls to make their debuts into society. Having had no experience with men and still cherishing their innocent dreams, the dearest wish of those young girls would be to meet their very own Prince Charming at Bulanmu Palace.
Tonight, as per normal, the Bulanmu Palace was brilliantly lit and would stay that way all through the night. Dapper gentlemen and ladies dressed in splendid gowns gathered in the ostentatiously decorated hall of the palace; the men were talking about politics and women, while the women were talking about fashion and men. On the surface, they seemed to disdain each other, but in their hearts, they longed for someone to notice them.
When Wiltshire and Walker stepped into the imposing ballroom at Bulanmu Palace, they were met by this display of vanity and splendour. Dressed as he was in luxurious clothes that he was unaccustomed to, Walker put on a pokerfaced expression and tried to ignore the curious glances directed at Wiltshire and him. Following behind Wiltshire, they proceeded to approach the most powerful ruler in the whole of the United Kingdom, until they were face-to-face with him.
“Your Highness, it has been a long time since we last met.” Wearing a slight smile on the corners of his mouth, Wiltshire bent at the waist as he bowed, perfectly performing the required etiquette expected of one when met with a royal, and Walker frantically tried to copy his movements as he too, gave a bow.
“My dear Brett, you have finally decided to make an appearance, and here I was thinking that you must have become besotted by some village girl in Stonehaven!” Though the tailoring of his luxurious formalwear was absolutely flawless, his clothes were still unable to disguise the enormous bulk of the Prince Regent, who tipped the scales at over three-hundred pounds. Earl Thuram, who was standing beside him, appeared to be abnormally dainty in comparison.
Wiltshire's lips parted in a grin, even in front of this highly important and powerful Prince Regent, his elegant bearing and cool poise did not show even the slightest degree of change.
“I had grown tired of the drudgery of life in the countryside. But I have come back to London only to discover that a party in Bulanmu Palace does not make me any happier.”
It was rare that any of the nobility would dare to criticise the Prince Regent’s party for being boring right to his face, but Wiltshire's boldness only caused Henry to burst out laughing.
“And what could arouse your interest? My dear Brett, perhaps you would be willing to reconsider my proposal? You know that I shall welcome you at any time.” The Prince Regent caressed Wiltshire with his eyes, which had a suggestive look in them, trying to use words to entice this fish that staunchly refused to take his baits.
By now, Wiltshire had already become well-versed in the techniques of how to evade the fishing hooks that the Prince Regent cast.
“Your Royal Highness, I think everybody is waiting for you to start the first dance; in addition... with regards to your invitation, I think David would be better suited to your expectations.”
Met with Wiltshire's slick refusal, the Prince Regent laughed lightly and said: “Even so, Brett I think that you would not mind coming to the side hall after the ball ends to join me for a drink? I guarantee that David would also be there with us.” David was Earl Thuram’s name.
“Yes, of course I will go. Your Highness's dance partner for tonight [8] is the Duchess of Isleworth? Did you not notice that she has been looking in this direction with eagerness for a long time?” Wiltshire pointed to the Duchess who was standing about three feet away from them, so overdressed that she looked like a Christmas tree. She was desperately casting glances at the Prince Regent, hoping that he would remember who his dance partner for the night was supposed to be.
“David, I will leave Brett to you. I hope that I will be able to see the two of you right after the party ends.” The Prince Regent dragged his heavy body over to the Duchess of Isleworth and the pair of them proceeded to the dance floor together. After the musicians struck up a melody, one after another, the impatient men of the nobility also led their chosen dance partners onto the dance floor and the couples began to spin around.
“My dear Brett, I think you have forgotten to introduce this gentleman by your side.” After looking at the Prince Regent dancing at the centre of the dance floor with a smiling expression, Thuram turned his attention to Walker, who was by Wiltshire's side.
“Oh, of course. This is Walker Robinson, he is a distant relation of mine, who has been living in Stonehaven." Casually making up an identity for Walker on the spot; to Wiltshire, fibbing could be said to be an activity that came so naturally to him that it was merely an easy drive on a familiar path.
“How do you do, Walker! I am Davidson Nello Thuram, but you can call me David.” The petite Earl Thuram had a face that was even more delicate than a woman's; when he extended his hand to Walker in a gentle movement, his enchanting smile caused the poor Scotsman to be totally at a loss, not knowing how he should respond. When Walker shook the Earl's hand, the feel of that delicate hand in his own caused a blush to overtake his face.
Wiltshire seemed to be quite unhappy when he saw Walker's reaction. Rudely, he tore Walker's hand from Thuram's. He forced himself to give a fake smile and said to his friend: “My dear David, I've suddenly remember that there is something I must attend to, I'll be right back.”
Not waiting for Earl Thuram to recover from his surprise, he turned and dragged Walker away, heading for another part of the humongous ballroom. He only let go of Walker when they were in a corner that was far away from Thuram.
“You may be an aristocrat, but I find that your upbringing must have been worse than mine.” Once they came to a stop, Walker shook off Wiltshire's hand and displeased, set about criticising him.
“Who asked you to look at him with your whole face flushed red like an idiot, damn it!” Wiltshire lowered his voice and gave vent to his own dissatisfaction.
“I… I was only…” Walker's face grew even redder, but only a small part of his reaction could be attributed to anger, it was mainly due to his embarrassment at having Wiltshire bring up what was on Walker's mind.
Frankly speaking, in Wiltshire's eyes, Walker's crimson cheeks looked extremely attractive. If he didn't have any qualms about the setting, he would have kissed Walker fiercely right then and there, until he could be certain that the blush on his face was caused solely by himself.
Realizing that Wiltshire's green eyes had darkened with obvious lust, Walker was given a fright.
“God, don’t tell me that right now, you want to…” He did not have enough time to finish his speech before he was pounced upon by Wiltshire and pressed up against the wall. Using the enormous floor-to-ceiling curtains that were beside them to shield them from the prying eyes of others, he hungrily kissed Walker on his lips, while his right hand impatiently gravitated to the protruding body part that was between his legs.
“Are you mad... there are so many people here...” Walker desperately tried to resist, but Wiltshire had seemingly committed all strength in his body into pressing him against the wall, and no matter how hard he tried, Walker could not struggle free.
End of Jus Primae Noctis Chapter 6
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[1]: This is supposed to be a tapping sound.
[2]: Hello was already in English in the Chinese text.
[3]: This kind of shop would probably be called a haberdashery in most parts of the world (meaning, a shop that specialises in men’s apparel). But in Britain, this term means a shop that sells small items (such as needles and thread) that are used to make clothes.
[4]: The original Chinese text is 领巾 (lǐng jīn), which my dictionary translates to neckcloth / neckerchief but cravats were what aristocratic men wore around their necks at that time. One way to tie a cravat:
[5]: So, this book is set in a made-up period since there was only ever one Prince Regent in English history and his name was George, not Henry. There are many parallels though, both between the fictional Prince Regent and George IV, and other details. I’ll probably continue to use the Regency as a reference for context.
[6]: 布兰姆宫 (bù lán mǔ gōng): I can’t think of any palace with a name resembling this, so I’m leaving it in the pinyin. Google Translate says that this is Blenheim, but Blenheim isn’t in London.
[7]: 夜之西敏寺 (yè zhī xī mǐn sì'): literally “Night of Westminster”. Probably referencing the Palace of Westminster which is the meeting place of the Parliament of the United Kingdom.
[8]: Typically the attendees of balls in the 18th and 19th century would not have “dates” or a single designated partner for the night. A gentleman might request a dance in advance, but saving more than two dances for a particular partner was detrimental to a young lady’s reputation. Even two dances signalled to observers that the gentleman in question had a particular interest in her. The day after a ball, a gentleman would typically call upon his principle partner, so a young lady who danced two sets with same gentleman might rightfully expect continued acquaintance with him.
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Jus Primae Noctis Chapter 6
Enjoying the freedom of solitude, the exhausted Walker gradually drifted into the land of dreams --- this was the first time he had felt so comfortable in days. Although the evil Wiltshire had not demanded to make love to him for the last couple of days, but every night, he still forced him to strip naked and share the same bed as him. Furthermore, once on the bed, Wiltshire would wantonly feel him up and manipulate his body, making it impossible for Walker to have a restful sleep.
“Dong dong dong… [1]” The strange noises coming from the window startled him from the cosy state of being half-awake and half-asleep, thwarting his hopes of having a peaceful night. He struggled to his feet and went to open the window, but the sight that met his eyes was a face that he did not expect to see at all.
“Hello [2], Darling, were you already asleep?” Barely dressed, wearing a dressing gown, Wiltshire climbed through the window with a roguish smile on his face. Because of the cold, he constantly stamped his foot on the floorboards and proceeded to nestle into Walker's quilt, completely without obtaining Walker's approval.
“Oh my god! It’s so cold that I could die. Why did Franklin assign you to such a place, it’s all his fault that I nearly froze to death while looking for you. But fortunately, I still managed to find you!” Wiltshire gave a sniff of his nose and extended a hand to toss away his dressing gown; it was only at this juncture that Walker discovered that underneath his dressing gown, Wiltshire was totally naked.
“Aren’t you cold, quickly get in here!” The person who had caused others to get chilled still had the audacity to play host even though he was really an uninvited guest. With a warm attitude, he lifted up the corner of the quilt and graciously invited the actual owner of the bed to share it with him.
Although he really did not wish to be hemmed in with Wiltshire in a crowded space, the autumn nights of London were really too cold for him to be standing around in just his undershirt and underpants. After hesitating for a while, Walker finally got under the quilt.
The moment he lay his body down, Wiltshire extended an arm and embraced him.
“Why are you still wearing these things, they just get in the way?” The same time as his lips were making complaints, his hands were pulling off Walker's pants.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The sudden feeling of having their lower bodies pressed against each other caused Walker's face to flush red immediately. He wanted to free himself from the other man's hand, which was clutching his genitals, but he couldn't move because Wiltshire was clamping down on that vital point firmly.
“What I mean to do… shouldn’t that be very clear?” Wiltshire propped up his upper body and looked down into Walker's eyes, aided by the light of the moon. Bathed in the gentle and pure illumination, his insurmountably gorgeous green eyes sparked with a poignant incandescence; in that moment, Walker was so shaken by his beauty that he found that he was unable to speak.
“Don’t gaze at me with that look in your eyes…” Wiltshire gave a soft sigh, and shifted his body over to press down upon Walker, “If you keep on looking at me like that, I’m going to devour you…” His voice was low and full of bewitchery, as if he were the serpent that had tempted Eve to eat the apple.
Not waiting for Walker to make any reply, he bent his head down and kissed Walker on his full and plump lips. In the stillness and silence of the late night, the sounds of Wiltshire sucking on the tip of his tongue could be heard clearly, and Walker could distinctly feel his lower abdomen being prodded by Wiltshire's sex organ, which had already grown erect.
Originally, he had thought that he had been given the rare chance to have a good night’s sleep tonight, but from the looks of it, Wiltshire had not intended to let him off from the very start --- the feeling of friction caused by the Marquess's glabrous skin constantly rubbing against his own caused Walker, who had already tasted the pleasure that sex could bring, to also become excited, albeit involuntarily.
Though aggrieved to feel that desire was burning throughout his body, bringing with it a contradictory blend --- humiliation and pleasure --- of feelings, it still caused Walker to be unable to keep himself from tightly hugging the body that was pressing down upon his own. There was a tenderness revealed in the movements of Wiltshire's hands that had never before existed, but within that tenderness, there was also an urgency which had been created by abstinence over the past few days.
Subjugated by the irresistible desire, the low sounds of Walker's gasps echoed throughout the room, even the still air seemed to be ignited by their passion. Boiling-hot sweat slowly seeped out from Wiltshire's forehead, neck and body, mingling with Walker's; this was ironclad evidence of the extremely intimate relationship between the two men.
After thoroughly caressing the Scotsman's body with his lips and hands, Wiltshire found that he had gradually become unable to control his own lust. Finally unable to restrain himself any longer, he reached out to lift both of Walker's legs and then, he buried his desire into his body deeply.
“Ah… ah…” Although he had already had to endure this kind of pain countless times, but to be a man who was penetrated by another man, Walker found the anguish caused by his predicament to be intolerable, both physically and mentally. He could not help but to cry out because of the pain, and at the same time, Walker's hands were clutching tightly at the sheets under his body.
Telling himself not to do things in a headlong rush like he had the previous times, Wiltshire reigned in his desire that was clamouring for release, as if his life depended upon it. With excruciatingly slow movements, he pushed his penis into Walker's body bit by bit, gradually reaching the very depths. At the very moment when it was completely inside Walker, he stilled and stopped moving, until he felt the muscles that were enveloping him tightly become accustomed to the intrusion. Only then did he begin to move his body in a slow rhythm.
Walker had screwed his eyes shut; without fail, at times like this, his entire consciousness would seem to be concentrated on that area where he was coupled with Wiltshire --- burning and scalding, the feeling of his muscles contracting before being forcibly stretched apart, extreme pain and humiliation were combined with pleasure that he could hardly bring himself to admit to... the resulting mixture of emotions was a complicated cocktail that made him want to drift with the waves and go with the flow.
“Walker… can you read?” As Wiltshire zealously continued his pistoning movements, he asked a question that had absolutely no relevance to the present circumstances or atmosphere.
At this moment, Walker was existing in a state of being where he had been completely taken over by Wiltshire. His brain felt like a ball of mush; he tried desperately to think, but for the life of him, he could not figure out Wiltshire's intentions.
In the end, unable to puzzle out Wiltshire's real purpose in asking that question, he could only choose to answer truthfully.
“Yes… my father… Father was once… once a teacher in the village, he taught… he taught me some…” Being tossed around by Wiltshire's rocking movements had caused Walker's brain to be in complete chaos, to the extent that he was unable to complete his sentence.
“Oh, that’s good.” Wiltshire seemed to be quite satisfied with his answer, without saying anything more, he began to concentrate his attention on the activity between the two of them. Wiltshire increased the speed at which he plunged in and out of Walker's body, and had to bite down on his own lips, desperately restraining himself from giving in to the urge, brought on by the intense pleasure, to shout out. Concentrating all of his desire into that hardness on his lower body, the simple but deeply affecting movements --- deep thrusts coupled with shallow withdrawals --- eventually became numerous blasts of boiling love fluids that he shot into Walker's body.
“Oh god, if every single one of our love-making sessions is going to be so explosive, I think I will not be able to live past thirty!” Dramatically lamenting that the pleasure had been so intense, he gave a long exhale and slowly rolled off Walker's body. He took the Scotsman, who was holding his body in a stiff posture, into his embrace, and quietly revelled in the fact that Walker's body now carried traces of Wiltshire's own scent.
“Why did you ask me that?” Walker's entire body still had remnants of the astounding pleasure that had coursed through him like electric shocks during their love-making and it was quite some time before he had a dim memory of the question posed by Wiltshire.
“Nothing much, it was just a casual question.” Wiltshire gently stroked his lover's broad back with his hand and his heart began to perceive something vaguely --- destiny had decreed that his relationship with Walker was not going to be as simple as he had originally thought; it was not going to be some fleeting liaison where the two players were loosely bound together only through sexual desire, perhaps it would last for a much longer time than he had originally expected.
Licking slowly at the soft spot behind Walker's ear, feeling the male body in his arms begin to quake because of this action, he sensed the irresistible heat begin to circulate in his lower abdomen once again...
Always an acolyte of his own desires, Wiltshire would, of course, not hesitate at all before choose to press Walker under his body once again. What was different this time was that the Scotsman was clearly not as submissive as he had been during their last round of love-making. However, although Walker tried to put up some resistance, he was quickly subdued by the Marquess; in the end, he still yielded to his caresses and allowed the Marquess to enter his body from behind. After moving with an intense rhythm repeatedly, Wiltshire finally unleashed all of his blazing passion inside his body.
And so, after this scene had played out for several more times, the two men were utterly exhausted and finally journeyed to slumberland while locked in a tight embrace. Although the pillows and blankets he was lying on gave off a musty smell, the Marquess still had a very sweet and beautiful dream that night --- in his dream, Walker was no longer a Scotsman who was destined to live his life apart from him, separated by the divides of class and gender. Instead, he had transformed into a sweet angel who frolicked playfully with him in a vast, verdant grassland. Although he was still immersed in a dream, Wiltshire could not help but to laugh aloud, delighted by Walker's sweetness and gentle amenability.
“Damn it, Wiltshire, I demand that you wake up immediately! God, what the hell are you laughing at? It will be morning soon if you don't get up now...”
Reality is cruel.
It was nearly dawn when Wiltshire was rudely shaken awake by Walker, interrupting his lovely dreams. For the reason that he was loathe to have his relationship with the Marquess made known to other people, he heartlessly kicked the Marquess out of his room.
Wiltshire cut a sorry figure as he ran through the gardens to his room, wearing only his dressing gown. Along the way, in addition to having to endure the bitingly-cold winds, he also had to take precautions to evade the eyes and ears of anybody who might be up and about. By the time he was finally back in his own opulently appointed bed, he couldn't help but to give several violent sneezes.
Although it was both exhausting and awkward, but for the next few nights, Wiltshire continued to sneak into Walker's room to make love with him. The little house had already become very fresh and welcoming, thanks to Walker's diligent housekeeping, but what gave Wiltshire the greatest thrill was the furtiveness of having to be stealthy.
In addition to their intimate interactions at night, during the day, Wiltshire would drag Walker to cruise around all corners of London, sightseeing and having fun; however, the splendour of this bustling and immoral city confused the Scotsman. Although he enjoyed first-rate luxuries and entertainment whenever he was with the Marquess, but every day, he would still invariably ask Wiltshire when he was going to recommend him for a job.
At first, helping Walker get a job had merely been an excuse that he casually concocted for the sake of bringing Walker with him to London. Although he did indeed have the ability to arrange for him to work at a shipping company, but by this time, the Marquess had gotten hopelessly addicted to the Scotsman’s strong body and pure soul, and was not at all willing to let him leave his side and become some kind of dratted sailor.
But continuing to procrastinate and trying to fob Walker off could not possibly an adequate solution in the long-term. That afternoon, the Marquess received an invitation card that could provide the catalyst for finally putting an end to this pickle he was in.
The invitation had been sent by the Prince Regent. Truth be told, after returning to London, the Marquess had simply shoved the matter of going to visit the Prince Regent to the very back of his mind. After waiting in vain for Wiltshire to visit him for the past few days, the Prince Regent had finally become unable to keep his impatience in check. Taking the opportunity to host a ball, he used the chance it afforded him to meet with Wiltshire under the guise of respectability.
After receiving the invitation, Wiltshire had been filled with anxiety over the prospect of meeting with the Prince Regent for a good part of the day but Walker still kept on pestering him, wanting to discuss the matter of finding a job for him. A sudden flash of inspiration struck the Marquess, and he handily dragged Walker out the front door, before leading him to the most prestigious tailor [3] in London.
“Find this gentleman a few things that will fit him. He needs jackets, trousers, shirts, cravats [4] and also hats and shoes... we want everything.” The moment they had entered the shop, the Marquess pushed the Scotsman in front of the merchant who had came up to give them a warm welcome.
After a few hours, when Walker emerged in front of the Marquess with a brand new look, Wiltshire was so surprised by his transformation that his chin nearly hit the floor.
The strapping Scotsman was now dressed in a spanking new velvet jacket of pure black, a snowy-white shirt and cravat that played up his bronzed skin and chiselled facial features perfectly, form-fitting trousers that clung tightly to his well-muscled thighs... When his gaze fell upon Walker's sensual lips, Wiltshire believed that even the most virtuous ladies in London would be willing to lift their skirts up, right there in the streets, for a man with such a untamed nature and so full of sex appeal.
“They gave you a haircut?” Unfortunately, the Marquess's reaction was not any better than that of the women he had been imagining. His throat was dry, making it almost impossible for him to say anything; in addition, he did not dare to rise up from the chair because his groin had become heated and distended.
“It was just a little trim, my Lord. The original length of Mr Robinson's hair was too long, obscuring his features. It is a lot better after having been cut, is that not so?” The clothing merchant stepped forward with a winning attitude to offer an explanation; evidently he was immensely pleased with makeover he had given to Walker.
Wide-eyed and dumbstruck, Wiltshire continued staring at Walker, and began to second-guess himself, wondering if his decision to bring Walker to the ball had been wise.
“Sir…” The merchant began to panic slightly as he looked at the expression on Wiltshire's face.
Wiltshire gave a wave of his hand, and using a deliberately casual tone of voice, he said: “There is no need for him to try on the rest of the articles. Just have them wrapped up, and charge the cost to my account.”
Hurriedly bidding the merchant --- who was grinning from ear to ear --- goodbye, Wiltshire bundled the Scotsman up the horse carriage. Due to the lust he was feeling, his usually translucent green eyes had taken on the hue and opacity of a piece of turquoise. Unable to exercise restraint any longer, Wiltshire could not keep himself from crushing Walker's lips against his own fiercely.
The degree of zeal that Henry, the Prince Regent [5], had for parties was something that was well-known by every single person living in London. Naturally, his residence, the Bulanmu Palace [6], would also contain the most luxuriously furnished ballroom in the whole of England.
It would seem that a large-scale soiree was held in Bulanmu Palace almost every week. But although they were held with such frequency, the aristocrats in London still view receiving an invite to one of the Prince Regent's parties as an honour. After all, almost everybody who wielded true power and authority in England would make an appearance at these parties.
Besides being known as "the Westminster of the night hours [7]" because almost all of the important personages in England would gather here at night, Bulanmu Palace was also the venue of choice for young upper-crust girls to make their debuts into society. Having had no experience with men and still cherishing their innocent dreams, the dearest wish of those young girls would be to meet their very own Prince Charming at Bulanmu Palace.
Tonight, as per normal, the Bulanmu Palace was brilliantly lit and would stay that way all through the night. Dapper gentlemen and ladies dressed in splendid gowns gathered in the ostentatiously decorated hall of the palace; the men were talking about politics and women, while the women were talking about fashion and men. On the surface, they seemed to disdain each other, but in their hearts, they longed for someone to notice them.
When Wiltshire and Walker stepped into the imposing ballroom at Bulanmu Palace, they were met by this display of vanity and splendour. Dressed as he was in luxurious clothes that he was unaccustomed to, Walker put on a pokerfaced expression and tried to ignore the curious glances directed at Wiltshire and him. Following behind Wiltshire, they proceeded to approach the most powerful ruler in the whole of the United Kingdom, until they were face-to-face with him.
“Your Highness, it has been a long time since we last met.” Wearing a slight smile on the corners of his mouth, Wiltshire bent at the waist as he bowed, perfectly performing the required etiquette expected of one when met with a royal, and Walker frantically tried to copy his movements as he too, gave a bow.
“My dear Brett, you have finally decided to make an appearance, and here I was thinking that you must have become besotted by some village girl in Stonehaven!” Though the tailoring of his luxurious formalwear was absolutely flawless, his clothes were still unable to disguise the enormous bulk of the Prince Regent, who tipped the scales at over three-hundred pounds. Earl Thuram, who was standing beside him, appeared to be abnormally dainty in comparison.
Wiltshire's lips parted in a grin, even in front of this highly important and powerful Prince Regent, his elegant bearing and cool poise did not show even the slightest degree of change.
“I had grown tired of the drudgery of life in the countryside. But I have come back to London only to discover that a party in Bulanmu Palace does not make me any happier.”
It was rare that any of the nobility would dare to criticise the Prince Regent’s party for being boring right to his face, but Wiltshire's boldness only caused Henry to burst out laughing.
“And what could arouse your interest? My dear Brett, perhaps you would be willing to reconsider my proposal? You know that I shall welcome you at any time.” The Prince Regent caressed Wiltshire with his eyes, which had a suggestive look in them, trying to use words to entice this fish that staunchly refused to take his baits.
By now, Wiltshire had already become well-versed in the techniques of how to evade the fishing hooks that the Prince Regent cast.
“Your Royal Highness, I think everybody is waiting for you to start the first dance; in addition... with regards to your invitation, I think David would be better suited to your expectations.”
Met with Wiltshire's slick refusal, the Prince Regent laughed lightly and said: “Even so, Brett I think that you would not mind coming to the side hall after the ball ends to join me for a drink? I guarantee that David would also be there with us.” David was Earl Thuram’s name.
“Yes, of course I will go. Your Highness's dance partner for tonight [8] is the Duchess of Isleworth? Did you not notice that she has been looking in this direction with eagerness for a long time?” Wiltshire pointed to the Duchess who was standing about three feet away from them, so overdressed that she looked like a Christmas tree. She was desperately casting glances at the Prince Regent, hoping that he would remember who his dance partner for the night was supposed to be.
“David, I will leave Brett to you. I hope that I will be able to see the two of you right after the party ends.” The Prince Regent dragged his heavy body over to the Duchess of Isleworth and the pair of them proceeded to the dance floor together. After the musicians struck up a melody, one after another, the impatient men of the nobility also led their chosen dance partners onto the dance floor and the couples began to spin around.
“My dear Brett, I think you have forgotten to introduce this gentleman by your side.” After looking at the Prince Regent dancing at the centre of the dance floor with a smiling expression, Thuram turned his attention to Walker, who was by Wiltshire's side.
“Oh, of course. This is Walker Robinson, he is a distant relation of mine, who has been living in Stonehaven." Casually making up an identity for Walker on the spot; to Wiltshire, fibbing could be said to be an activity that came so naturally to him that it was merely an easy drive on a familiar path.
“How do you do, Walker! I am Davidson Nello Thuram, but you can call me David.” The petite Earl Thuram had a face that was even more delicate than a woman's; when he extended his hand to Walker in a gentle movement, his enchanting smile caused the poor Scotsman to be totally at a loss, not knowing how he should respond. When Walker shook the Earl's hand, the feel of that delicate hand in his own caused a blush to overtake his face.
Wiltshire seemed to be quite unhappy when he saw Walker's reaction. Rudely, he tore Walker's hand from Thuram's. He forced himself to give a fake smile and said to his friend: “My dear David, I've suddenly remember that there is something I must attend to, I'll be right back.”
Not waiting for Earl Thuram to recover from his surprise, he turned and dragged Walker away, heading for another part of the humongous ballroom. He only let go of Walker when they were in a corner that was far away from Thuram.
“You may be an aristocrat, but I find that your upbringing must have been worse than mine.” Once they came to a stop, Walker shook off Wiltshire's hand and displeased, set about criticising him.
“Who asked you to look at him with your whole face flushed red like an idiot, damn it!” Wiltshire lowered his voice and gave vent to his own dissatisfaction.
“I… I was only…” Walker's face grew even redder, but only a small part of his reaction could be attributed to anger, it was mainly due to his embarrassment at having Wiltshire bring up what was on Walker's mind.
Frankly speaking, in Wiltshire's eyes, Walker's crimson cheeks looked extremely attractive. If he didn't have any qualms about the setting, he would have kissed Walker fiercely right then and there, until he could be certain that the blush on his face was caused solely by himself.
Realizing that Wiltshire's green eyes had darkened with obvious lust, Walker was given a fright.
“God, don’t tell me that right now, you want to…” He did not have enough time to finish his speech before he was pounced upon by Wiltshire and pressed up against the wall. Using the enormous floor-to-ceiling curtains that were beside them to shield them from the prying eyes of others, he hungrily kissed Walker on his lips, while his right hand impatiently gravitated to the protruding body part that was between his legs.
“Are you mad... there are so many people here...” Walker desperately tried to resist, but Wiltshire had seemingly committed all strength in his body into pressing him against the wall, and no matter how hard he tried, Walker could not struggle free.
End of Jus Primae Noctis Chapter 6
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[1]: This is supposed to be a tapping sound.
[2]: Hello was already in English in the Chinese text.
[3]: This kind of shop would probably be called a haberdashery in most parts of the world (meaning, a shop that specialises in men’s apparel). But in Britain, this term means a shop that sells small items (such as needles and thread) that are used to make clothes.
[4]: The original Chinese text is 领巾 (lǐng jīn), which my dictionary translates to neckcloth / neckerchief but cravats were what aristocratic men wore around their necks at that time. One way to tie a cravat:
[5]: So, this book is set in a made-up period since there was only ever one Prince Regent in English history and his name was George, not Henry. There are many parallels though, both between the fictional Prince Regent and George IV, and other details. I’ll probably continue to use the Regency as a reference for context.
[6]: 布兰姆宫 (bù lán mǔ gōng): I can’t think of any palace with a name resembling this, so I’m leaving it in the pinyin. Google Translate says that this is Blenheim, but Blenheim isn’t in London.
[7]: 夜之西敏寺 (yè zhī xī mǐn sì'): literally “Night of Westminster”. Probably referencing the Palace of Westminster which is the meeting place of the Parliament of the United Kingdom.
[8]: Typically the attendees of balls in the 18th and 19th century would not have “dates” or a single designated partner for the night. A gentleman might request a dance in advance, but saving more than two dances for a particular partner was detrimental to a young lady’s reputation. Even two dances signalled to observers that the gentleman in question had a particular interest in her. The day after a ball, a gentleman would typically call upon his principle partner, so a young lady who danced two sets with same gentleman might rightfully expect continued acquaintance with him.
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