9 comments/ 11637 views/ 9 favorites Charles the Younger By: Acerbicscribbler This is a slow build kind of story. Read Tanners and the Banker's Boy for a background on the main character, and also for a very sexual story. The seventh day market was possibly the most obnoxious event in the town. Charles the Younger had been stuck in the crowd for the better part of an hour, guiding his horse anywhere there was an opening and shooing pickpockets away from his purse. Had not his wife requested new ribbons he never would have ventured into the fray. "I detest the market," he groaned loudly, not for the first time. "Well known," his friend Wolfgang replied wryly. The young man urged his mount around a spice hawker to catch up with the banker's son. "You've been bellyaching the entire morning. Why do you bother coming?" "My goodly wife has many requests, and I am an obliging husband." Wolfgang didn't respond to that, knowing full well that only half the statement was truth. Charles, turned as he was to speak to him, didn't notice the approaching family until he had nearly trampled them. "Good sir!" cried a woman. Charles reined his horse sharply. It was that goatherd with the big eyes, her belly swollen with child. Who should be laden with her other bastard but the handsome village idiot? Charles grinned, waiting for the man to look up. "Apologies," Wolfgang said for him. The goatherd bowed as best she could and moved along. Was it imagination that made her eyes seem as though she could look into a man's soul? Charles wondered if she knew what her simple lover was up to whenever Charles sent for him. Likely so, for the way the peasant spoke of her, the goatherd was his sole confidant. "Indeed, apologies," Charles added at Wolfgang's sharp look. At the sound of his voice Tanners finally raised his gaze as Charles had known he would. Those odd eyes widened, almost glowed in the morning sunlight. Why be so shocked? Everyone was at the seventh day market. Charles winked at the man and was rewarded with Tanners' bright red blush. He felt his friend glance sideways at him. "You've an odd rapport with the tanner's boy," Wolfgang remarked once the goatherd had moved her party on. Narrowing his eyes at the strapping peasant's back, Charles replied, "You would as well, had you ridden him like a charger." He would have to summon the man soon. Wolfgang shook his head. "I'll never have a straight answer from the likes of you," he laughed. Charles pretended affront at the cachinnation. "You doubt my honest lips?" "I'd believe he enjoyed a good sodomizing but for the common knowledge that he has taken up with the little goatherd on the hill." Wolfgang raised a shrewd brow at his longtime friend. "I very much doubt that she has the equipment for the task." With that he clicked his heels against the bay he rode and made his way through the market crowd. Charles followed the other man, wrapped in pensiveness. Dare he tell Wolfgang the truth? The man may never have liked Charles' wife, but the revelation that Charles preferred the rough hand of a tanner's by-blow could destroy the bonds of even a lifelong friendship. It was a shame, Charles thought, that he and Wolf had never gone further than to compare sizes and follicle growth during their adolescent years. Would it that Wolfgang be the one Charles met in the forest...The banker's son shook those thoughts from his head. His companion was comely and fit, but was not the kind of man to encourage the sort of passions Charles favored. He was too genteel; too genial; too good. There was no devil in Wolfgang. The two men's conversation turned to more mundane matters as they neared the edge of Wolfgang's property: business, estates, the rumors that a band of gypsies was camping between their town and the next. Charles responded distractedly, his mind still on Tanners and his goatherd. She didn't seem to mind that her lover spent four days fucking Charles every moon. However, if the gypsies were the sort who caused problems for villagers, would that not herald the return of the brute squad? In that case, the simple romantic would surely return to the famed Keilan, leaving no one to satisfy Charles during those sweet brief days of extramarital freedom. Should he find a whore beforehand? Were there men of age and stature who could be discreet? "Charles!" Wolfgang said suddenly. "Where is your head?" Charles blinked. "My apologies. It seems I am preoccupied." "Is it the good Lady Eleanor again?" Wolf's tone made it clear that he expected as much. Only in that her very regular menstrual cycles have become the highlight of my marriage, Charles thought dryly. "In part," he answered. "Shall we have a swim in the pond?" As soon as the other man opened his mouth Charles was off, spurring his mount over the packed dirt on the road. He heard his friend's whoop not far behind, and looked over his shoulder to see Wolfgang's mouth stretched in a bright grin, green eyes sparkling playfully. The sight pricked the stone walls of Charles' heart, and he turned to urge his horse faster down the road. Charles the Younger After a brief pause Wolfgang nodded and withdrew from the windowsill. Charles scaled the wall with the ease of practice, dropping softly into his friend's chamber. Wolfgang lit a lamp before flopping onto his bed. "What is so urgent?" His tone was suspicious and his expression shuttered. What, indeed. Charles sank into a writing chair. "Are you still angry with me?" "I am upset that you attempt to deceive and manipulate me like you did that poor stupid peasant," Wolfgang replied shortly. "That was no manipulation." "Then what was it?" Tanners' words came back to him. Insincere. Flippant. Charles took a deep breath. "I want you to think well of me," he mumbled, staring at his hands. His heart, lodged in his throat, began to beat rapidly. "Ah, then by all means lie to me for months on end," his friend replied bitingly. "Tell me without precedent that you have a taste for men, but in such a manner that leads me to believe I should have known all the while." "Clearly I made a mistake," Charles began lamely, but Wolfgang was broking no excuses. "Follow that news with the revelation that your preference runs to the village idiot, who, while a strong and handsome fellow, is possessed. Not only that, but for some daft reason you encourage that devil within, you taunt it, and you've been flirting with such danger since before you were ever married." Wolfgang spread his hands in exasperation. "You deliberately chose the most volatile of men." "Tanners presented opportunity," Charles hastily explained. "As a simpleton he is no more dangerous than a hound pup. I could have seduced him with kind and tender words, but I chose to anger him. I'd rather face his devil." "Why?" Wolfgang demanded. "What in heaven and hell could compel you to provoke it? I've seen him toss men over his head like so much chaff in his rages." "If it—the pain was a kind of absolution. I needn't feel guilty afterward if I've suffered during the act." When he gave it voice the logic sounded cheap, tawdry, and mildly insane. "That is...twisted," the redhead replied, almost in wonderment. "To take such an intimate act and make it penance, Charles; you could have sustained great damage." "But I didn't!" the banker's son was quick to protest. "You could have, and still might if you continue in this path of self-ruin! When one man penetrates another it is," Wolfgang struggled for a moment to find the words, "both parties must exercise utmost caution. Even fucking a woman, one must never do so in a rage." "You're angry that my desires endanger my bowels?" Charles joked, and wished he could swallow those words at Wolfgang's glare. "I'm angry that you lied, that the guilt drove you to induce that bastard to hurt you, and that you seem incapable of understanding why that would upset me." Again Charles felt like he was overlooking some part of the argument. "I've hated myself for the deception, but I've nowhere else to go! I can't trust anyone but you, and—" "But you chose not to confide in me, Charles," his friend pointed out. "What could you have done?" Wolfgang was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he answered, rising to pull the curtains back. "You robbed me of the opportunity to speak without the sting of betrayal." "Betrayal?" Charles' throat felt tight. How can I tell him the whole truth now? "Rejection, hurt, failed trust." Wolfgang cut an uncompromising figure in the soft lamplight. "I trusted you, I believed in you, I held you in highest regard. After all this time you could not think the same of me." Such weighty accusations fell as bricks in Charles' stomach. He rose, eager to depart before the sting behind his eyes overpowered him. "I don't know how to repair what I've broken," he whispered in a thick voice, "but you must allow me to try." "Stop fucking that tanner's get." The banker's son forced a smile. "Haven't a choice if the brute squad returns." Do not spill a single tear, he ordered himself. "Charles, this is no jest," Wolfgang snapped. He should never have come. Not a tear. Wolfgang stepped aside to allow Charles access to the window Not a drop. His eyes were in rebellion; his vision swam under the onslaught of tears. Worse still, Wolfgang chose that moment to return his disapproving green gaze to his friend's face. I'll be alone in this world. "Wolf." Charles' voice broke. Gone was the tight control over his emotions, the dam had broken and he was left vulnerable and exposed. He would be alone in the eternal winter of loneliness. So overwhelming was the terror of losing his closest friend that Charles was oblivious to the man himself. He did not hear the shutters close or the drapes being drawn, only the humiliating hiccups between his sobs. "Come now," Wolf placated. "I haven't seen this kind of display from you since our boyhood." "Wolf," Charles repeated hoarsely, wishing he could explain, but his throat closed against further speech. Dear god, could he ever face Wolfgang again? His friend sighed. "Such a state you're in. I can't find it in my heart to be angry with a man of nineteen summers who bawls so violently that he looses his breath and snot runs down his face." He watched with folded arms as the towhead rubbed his face with his sleeve. "Come, it is too late for these matters. Rest here until first light." Charles choked down a sob. "Here?" "The bed is enough for four, and I do not sprawl about in my slumber like some parties present," Wolfgang replied. His tone was no less cold, but he moved with a relaxed manner that gave Charles some hope. "Thank you," Charles said, "truly." Wolfgang snuffed the lamp and laid down without another word. Charles shuffled thought the dark to the far side of the large bed to strip down to his knickers; though he and Wolfgang had slept on this very mattress together a thousand times as boys the distance to Wolfgang's pale back had never seemed so far. Then again, never before had Charles received such a verbal lashing twice in a day. Charles groaned and rubbed his forehead. His head and throat ached from that embarrassing display of emotion. Then again, he thought wryly, had I but known that tears would soften his heart... No, those hysterics had been akin to those of a child whose favorite toy had been wrested from his grasp. Charles didn't think he could have ever begun to falsify such an outburst for mere sympathy. Wolfgang was not a toy, though, to be owned or played with until broken and discarded. Wolfgang was—feelings so overwhelming that they could not be chained by the bonds of language threatened once again to make themselves known by spilling hot and salty down his face. With a trembling inhale, Charles broke the silence. "I worry that I will be left with no one," he said softly, staring at the nape of Wolfgang's neck. His friend snorted. "What nonsense." Determined to be understood, Charles scooted closer. "My marriage is bitter and lonely." "Hah. Elanor...I should not have liked her if I were blind and deaf." Wolfgang replied. "She is a very pretty, very snide cow," Charles agreed. "But the worst is how the trappings of wedlock keep me from spending time as we used to, hunting and fishing together, painting the town scarlet." The freckled shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. "Boyhood pursuits, Charles." "It isn't the activities that I miss. It's spending time as we pleased, enjoying one another's company." Courage, Charles. Sincerity. "It's you." He held his breath, willing his friend to roll over and face him. "We are at the beginning of adulthood," Wolfgang responded after a pause. "You have responsibilities, the banking trade to learn, and I am in the midst of my law studies; we can no longer wile our time away with amusing ourselves." Charles poked the ruddy head. "Wolf, I am serious." Finally Wolfgang rolled over. "I'm still here, friend." "Yes, but," the banker's son paused. "You asked me why I chose Tanners." The mere mention of the peasant brought a frown to his friend's face. "It was because, Wolf—damn, but this is difficult—it was because he looks nothing like you." The green eyes bored into blue, searching for explanation. "Pardon?" "He's dark where you are fair, tan where freckles dust your skin. Depending on out of which eye he's looking he's either simple or snide, where you are intelligent and amiable. He's big and broad where you are lithe. His hands are rough and clumsy, and his conversation unstimulating. Another man could love him, but I do not. I can't." "Charles," Wolfgang began with discomfort clear in his voice. "The first time he fucked me I thought I would split in two, but I still came. I had to make him angry, to keep him talking, because if I didn't I put you in his place. You...didn't deserve that. I swore that I would do better the next time; my mind would be blank. Yet every time I met that peasant; when I closed my eyes I would see your face." Charles gripped the sheet tightly in hopes that it would still his shaking hands. "When I say that I miss you, I mean that I crave your presence as grass craves the sun. The sight of you lights a fire within me, your image stalks me though my dreams. I love you, Wolfgang, and have loved you all of my life." His friend's mouth gaped. Wolfgang closed his eyes for a moment, looking for all the world as though he was sorting the information in his mind. He looked to the heavens, around the room, and anywhere but at the banker's son. "Why did you not tell me?" "And burden you with these perverse affections? Or worse, drive you away, fearing that I would be unable to control myself around you." "So you chose to lie to me." "I've never seen you so upset! I've been as a a madman all day, unable to eat or sleep for fear that I had lost you forever. Feel it." Desperate for understanding Charles grabbed Wolf's hand and pressed it to his pounding heart. "When you come near me, when I hear your voice, if fear that it will leap from my chest." Though Wolfgang's brow never lost its furrow, the corners of his mouth twitched when he withdrew his hand. "It does beat quickly," he acknowledged. A short laugh expelled a modicum of the tension from Charles' chest. "All these years, you never suspected." Propping himself on an elbow, Wolfgang shook his head. "Idiot. Neither did you." Charles parted his lips to ask his friend's meaning, only to find them sealed by the same mouth from which he would have begged explanation. Presented now with the affection for which he had pined—starved—Charles found himself paralyzed by the flood of sensation, from the nerves of his lips to the soles of his feet. A moment too soon Wolfgang drew back, sighing through closed lips as he rested his forehead against Charles'. "It is sweet, is it not?" Charles nodded, half afraid to break this spell with paltry speech. "And it's good." Again Charles nodded wordlessly. Dared he to pray for another? With closed eyes he felt the brush of a nose against his own; another sweet, good kiss; and the tender stroke of Wolfgang's thumb over his cheek. Wolfgang chuckled softly. "Can you sleep now?" Opening his eyes to the darkness, Charles searched his friend's countenance. "Not for the world." Wolfgang laughed a little. "Try," he suggested, half a command, and turned over to that purpose. Feel free to let me know if you'd rather have an update with more or Charles, or more of Tanners. I am drunk and open to requests. Yours Truly, A.S.