Page 15 of The Labours of Lord Perry Cavendish

Perry was humiliatingly aware of his cock gradually hardening in his drawers at the sound of that soft, admiring voice.

God, please don’t let it show.

Thankfully, Jonny didn’t seem to notice, too busy adjusting the pointer to ensure it was completely straight and parallel.

Once Jonny was satisfied with Perry’s stance, he said, “Can you look downwards for me? Like this.” Again, he demonstrated, turning his own head to the right, then bowing it slightly. Again, Perry copied him.

“Hmm. Let me just…” Jonny placed his hands on Perry’s face and guided him into the position he wanted. His hands were gentle but firm. Coaxing. Perry could smell a subtle bergamot scent from Jonny, and he found that he wanted to gulp the scent in, deep into his lungs.

“There,” Jonny said at last. “Just like that. If only I had a Greek warrior helmet you could wear.”

“A what?”

“A Greek helmet,” Jonny repeated absently, reaching for the green fabric he’d set aside and shaking it out. “I have one at my house in London, but I didn’t think to bring it. Well, you wouldn’t unless you knew you’d need it, would you? It’s quite enormous. It has the most wonderful scarlet plume.” He sighed, a disappointed sound, then stepped close again with the fabric. Draping it over Perry’s bare left shoulder, he looped one end around Perry’s outstretched left arm before sidling behind him. Perry fought the urge to look over his shoulder, only to yelp and jump when Jonny suddenly tucked a fistful of fabric into the waistband of Perry’s drawers at his right hip, cool fingers brushing Perry’s warm skin.

“Sorry,” Jonny said behind him, sounding genuinely contrite. “Am I treating you like a piece of furniture? I should have told you before I started manhandling you that I might do that—mostly I paint people who are used to being prodded.”

“It’s fine,” Perry said hoarsely. “I was just surprised.”

“Well, I’ll just be a few moments. I’m trying to get this curtain to hang like a cloak.”

Perry cleared his throat. “All right.”

Jonny twitched at the fabric several more times behind Perry, but there were no more accidental touches before he rounded Perry’s right side.

“You’re certainly more patient than Lysander,” he said, smiling. “He complained all the damned time! Now, do you think you can hold this pose comfortably?”

“Um… I think so,” Perry replied uncertainly. He felt fine at the moment, and the pointer wasn’t heavy, but he suspected that once he’d been holding his arms up for a while, it might get fatiguing. He didn’t say so, though.

“Good, good,” Jonny said. He hurried back to his chair and moved it closer before sitting down and resuming his hunched-over position.

Perry wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, him posing with the pretend sword and cloak and Jonny intently watching, quietly drawing. Perry was watching Jonny too, though somewhat obliquely, given his line of vision. Jonny loomed over the drawing, like a dragon over a hoard of gold, guarding it jealously, as though trying to hide it from any prying gaze.

Of the drawing itself, Perry could see nothing. Not that he would probably have spent much time looking at it if he could have. He was too interested in the man wielding the pencil and the way his gaze travelled over every inch of Perry’s body. His attention heated Perry’s blood and kept his lawless cock half-hard in his drawers through all the time that Jonny worked.

When finally Jonny stopped drawing, it was not to put down his pencil, but to lean back and scrutinise Perry even more closely, his eyes moving between Perry and the sketch.

“It wants something,” he muttered finally. “Another figure perhaps.”

He canted his head, studying Perry again. Then, quite abruptly, he rose to his feet and crossed the room to where the long looking glass stood. Dragging it into the middle of the room, he placed it perhaps six feet in front of Perry.

For a few moments, he fussed with the position of the mirror. Then he moved to stand right in front of Perry, glancing over his shoulder into the glass, before returning to slightly adjust its position. And then, when he returned to stand before Perry again…he sank to his knees.

Perry swallowed hard. Now Jonny’s head was only inches from the cockstand Perry had been sporting for what felt like hours now—not that Jonny noticed. He was too busy peering over his shoulder at their joint reflection in the glass.

Perry moved his own head a fraction so that he could see in the mirror too, and when he did… he nearly came in his drawers. Jonny Mainwaring was on his knees, his body facing Perry, his back to the mirror, and the rear view that Perry saw in the glass was pure perfection. His torso was long and lean, and his pert, round buttocks rested on his heels—God, but he had a gorgeous arse! Christ, if Jonny so much asbreathedright now, he might well get a face full of spend for his trouble. Heat travelled up Perry’s neck, making his skin prickle.

Jonny seemed oblivious to Perry’s predicament, partly thanks to a generous drape of linen at the front of Perry’s drawers that was helping to hide his stiff cock and partly thanks to the fact that Jonny appeared to be completely absorbed with examining their reflection in the looking glass.

“Yes,” Jonny muttered to himself. “This is promising.” He turned back to face Perry, glancing up at him. “Let me have that pointer, will you?”

Nonplussed, Perry handed it over, watching as Jonny laid it across his own palms, then stretched up his arms to Perry, as though offering a sword to him.

“Keep your left hand where it is,” Jonny instructed, still looking over his shoulder. “And reach your right one towards the sword.”

As Perry did as he was told, Jonny nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I like this. It’s making me think of Herakles and Hylas.”

“Hylas?” Perry echoed. “Who’s that?”