SOLACE
Dorian found him standing in a doorway sheltering from a flurry of sleet. Or rather, the Mary-Ann found him, stepping under the circle of a gaslight as Dorian walked by.
"Hello good sir, are you looking for some company this evening?"
In his early twenties and golden-haired, the man's eyes burned like emeralds. Fine of figure and wearing a scarlet waistcoat and a black velvet suit, he carried a silver-headed cane, no doubt for protection.
It was nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, the wrong time to be alone. Dorian nodded curtly. The man smiled, his teeth pearly and Dorian's cock thickened with anticipation when he realised how startlingly attractive the man was.
The man edged closer, placing the palm of his hand against Dorian's chest, a small, delicate hand for one of his height and build. "Do you have rooms anywhere, sir?"
Dorian debated. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd only thought of taking down the drawers of a male whore and burying himself, achieving ecstasy for a short while and feeling less alone. He'd expected to do it furtively up against the wall in a dirty alleyway but this man was so pretty, he demanded more. He demanded Dorian's silk sheets caressing his creamy skin. Did Dorian dare? What about his staff or his neighbours? He looked down into the glowing green eyes and thought, to hell with everyone. No one deserved to be alone at Christmas, not even a man with a past like Dorian's. He ached for skin against his and human contact.
"Come with me," he said and walked away, glancing behind him to make sure the man followed.
His choice of companion didn't. He stood stubbornly in place. "I require some evidence of your financial means, sir."
Dorian smiled. He took a gold piece from his waistcoat pocket. "Is this evidence enough?"
The man took the coin, bit delicately on one edge and pocketed it. "It's a start."
"If you please me boy, you can have double that."
The gay boy pursed his lips. "I'm not a boy, I'm a man."
Dorian stepped closer. "Why don't you show me then?"
His companion for the evening glanced around. Then he thrust a hand into Dorian's groin, rubbing the bulge he found there. "I'll show you all right."
Dorian gulped at his boldness and stepped back. The Mary-Ann sauntered on ahead. "Hurry then before I take this gold coin to the nearest public house and buy myself some Christmas cheer."
Dorian was amused and titillated by this forwardness. He noticed though that the silver-headed cane wasn't for affectation at all. The whore had a pronounced limp.
He hurried to catch up with his prize and the two of them strode down Commercial Road while Dorian looked about for hansoms. Pickings were few and far between as the sleet turned to snow, heavy, soft flakes cloaking everything, but after a few minutes they struck lucky. Dorian held the door open for the prostitute before climbing in and directing the driver to Chelsea.
The man sat back, holding his cane between his knees and regarded Dorian. "You understand I'll require transport home?"
"Of course." Although his clothes were adequate, he no doubt lived in some rat-infested Whitechapel slum near to where Dorian had found him. He looked the gay boy over. "You're brave aren't you? Doesn't the fiend concern you?"
The man raised an eyebrow. "You mean Jack? He only kills women, remember? And he hasn't killed since last month."
"Still… Whitechapel is more sinister than it used to be."
His companion snorted. "Where are your balls?"
"In my trousers sir, as you'll soon find out when they're on your face."
The man grinned, looking thrilled. "I can't wait."
Dorian's cock throbbed. Something about a Mary-Ann enjoying his job aroused him immensely. None of his previous paid couplings had been particularly satisfactory. "Do you have a name?"
"Yes. Benedict."
"How charming."
"And you?"
"Dorian."
"That sounds like your mother invented it. Well Dorian, where are you taking me? One of those depraved gentleman's clubs where I'll be
Dorian found him standing in a doorway sheltering from a flurry of sleet. Or rather, the Mary-Ann found him, stepping under the circle of a gaslight as Dorian walked by.
"Hello good sir, are you looking for some company this evening?"
In his early twenties and golden-haired, the man's eyes burned like emeralds. Fine of figure and wearing a scarlet waistcoat and a black velvet suit, he carried a silver-headed cane, no doubt for protection.
It was nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, the wrong time to be alone. Dorian nodded curtly. The man smiled, his teeth pearly and Dorian's cock thickened with anticipation when he realised how startlingly attractive the man was.
The man edged closer, placing the palm of his hand against Dorian's chest, a small, delicate hand for one of his height and build. "Do you have rooms anywhere, sir?"
Dorian debated. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd only thought of taking down the drawers of a male whore and burying himself, achieving ecstasy for a short while and feeling less alone. He'd expected to do it furtively up against the wall in a dirty alleyway but this man was so pretty, he demanded more. He demanded Dorian's silk sheets caressing his creamy skin. Did Dorian dare? What about his staff or his neighbours? He looked down into the glowing green eyes and thought, to hell with everyone. No one deserved to be alone at Christmas, not even a man with a past like Dorian's. He ached for skin against his and human contact.
"Come with me," he said and walked away, glancing behind him to make sure the man followed.
His choice of companion didn't. He stood stubbornly in place. "I require some evidence of your financial means, sir."
Dorian smiled. He took a gold piece from his waistcoat pocket. "Is this evidence enough?"
The man took the coin, bit delicately on one edge and pocketed it. "It's a start."
"If you please me boy, you can have double that."
The gay boy pursed his lips. "I'm not a boy, I'm a man."
Dorian stepped closer. "Why don't you show me then?"
His companion for the evening glanced around. Then he thrust a hand into Dorian's groin, rubbing the bulge he found there. "I'll show you all right."
Dorian gulped at his boldness and stepped back. The Mary-Ann sauntered on ahead. "Hurry then before I take this gold coin to the nearest public house and buy myself some Christmas cheer."
Dorian was amused and titillated by this forwardness. He noticed though that the silver-headed cane wasn't for affectation at all. The whore had a pronounced limp.
He hurried to catch up with his prize and the two of them strode down Commercial Road while Dorian looked about for hansoms. Pickings were few and far between as the sleet turned to snow, heavy, soft flakes cloaking everything, but after a few minutes they struck lucky. Dorian held the door open for the prostitute before climbing in and directing the driver to Chelsea.
The man sat back, holding his cane between his knees and regarded Dorian. "You understand I'll require transport home?"
"Of course." Although his clothes were adequate, he no doubt lived in some rat-infested Whitechapel slum near to where Dorian had found him. He looked the gay boy over. "You're brave aren't you? Doesn't the fiend concern you?"
The man raised an eyebrow. "You mean Jack? He only kills women, remember? And he hasn't killed since last month."
"Still… Whitechapel is more sinister than it used to be."
His companion snorted. "Where are your balls?"
"In my trousers sir, as you'll soon find out when they're on your face."
The man grinned, looking thrilled. "I can't wait."
Dorian's cock throbbed. Something about a Mary-Ann enjoying his job aroused him immensely. None of his previous paid couplings had been particularly satisfactory. "Do you have a name?"
"Yes. Benedict."
"How charming."
"And you?"
"Dorian."
"That sounds like your mother invented it. Well Dorian, where are you taking me? One of those depraved gentleman's clubs where I'll be
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