Page 31 of The Labours of Lord Perry Cavendish

“All right,” Perry replied, easy as ever. “Do you want me to take my things off?”

Jonny nodded. His throat felt tight. “Please. Can you wind the brown cotton round your waist again, like the other day? I’ve brought shears to cut it into strips so it looks more like realpteruges.”

“You’re going to cut it while I’m wearing it?” Perry said, his tone alarmed.

Jonny chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I’ll just need to make a few cuts—nothing too complicated.”

Perry swallowed, but he began unbuttoning his coat.

Jonny’s prick began to swell, and he quickly turned away, pretending to be busy organising his paints while he willed his cockstand down.

When he had himself under control, he turned back to find Perry tucking one end of the brown fabric into place at the back of his waist—and just like that, all Jonny’s efforts to suppress his physical reaction to Perry flew out the window again.

Perry, who was peering over his own shoulder as he secured the fabric in place, was unaware of Jonny’s attention, allowing Jonny to openly admire him, from his broad shoulders and chest to his narrow hips and long legs. As his gaze lingered on Perry’s thighs, he found himself wondering how many hours of horse-riding had gone into carving out those hard lines of muscle.

“Jonny?”

Oh, hell.

Jonny’s head whipped up to meet Perry’s faintly frowning expression, and he felt his face warm with uncharacteristic embarrassment.

It must have been obvious that he was staring. Worse, his cock felt like an iron bar in his pantaloons. He didn’t dare glance down to see if his arousal was showing.

He forced a smile to his face. “Time to make thepteruges,” he announced. “Let me get the shears.”

11

Perry

If Perry felt naked standing in the middle of the Shepherd's Hut with nothing but some brown cloth wrapped about his hips, he felt doubly so once Jonny knelt at his feet, a wickedly sharp-looking pair of shears in his right hand.

Perry’s chest felt tight and hot, and he was acutely aware that he had nothing on underneath the fabric, which only reached to about an inch or two above mid-thigh.

“This won’t take long,” Jonny said. “I just need to cut this front section into strips, but without going all the way up to the top. It doesn't have to be too convincing. A suggestion of the real thing will do for now.”

“A suggestion,” Perry repeated doubtfully.

Jonny nodded, his gaze disconcertingly fixed on Perry’s crotch. “Yes, enough to create some movement and to allow your, ah, thighs to show through the strands.” He bent his head, taking hold of the bottom edge and pulling it out taut. “Hold still.”

Perry gave an unmanly squeak, but Jonny had already begun cutting.

Thankfully, he worked quickly, slicing the cotton into a dozen or more strands and preserving Perry’s modesty by leaving a thicker central section that thankfully kept his cock and balls covered.

When he was finished, he sat back on his heels. “Could you move around a little so I can see how it moves?”

Perry obediently shifted from one foot to the other and circled his hips. The strands of fabric shifted and parted, revealing flashes of muscular thigh. It felt quite nice, he thought, the caress of the fabric soft against his skin. He circled his hips a few more times to enjoy the sensation, then remembered Jonny was still there on his knees and glanced down to find Jonny staring at him with half-lidded eyes. When Jonny realised that Perry had stopped moving, he jumped to his feet with almost comical swiftness.

“Good, good,” he said breezily. “Yes, that’s all good now.So”—he clapped his hands—“let’s get this cloak on, shall we?”

He collected the green curtain from the chair and draped it over Perry’s left shoulder, quickly looping and tucking it into place with practised ease.

“Same pose please,” Jonny said.

Perry assumed the pose he had taken on the other occasions he’d worn the cloak andpterugescostume, right leg forward, one arm held out to the side, the other reaching for the sword, and his head averted and looking down towards where Jonny’s figure would be in the composition.

“Lovely,” Jonny murmured. “That's just what I want: power, grace, and humility. A hero weighed down by grief and guilt.” He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Do you think you can hold this for a while?”

“Yes,” Perry said. “It’s not uncomfortable.”