Accidental View

Accidental View

Milton wiped his finger along the top of the picture frame—no dust. The rooms gleamed with precision and hard sweat, not that Gordon wouldn’t find some fault. Milton hadn’t polished the hangers or some other idiotic task. He’d never get the shoe polish out from under his fingernails or the smell of bleach from his nostrils.

The door banged. That had to be one of the lords returning. They had been on separate business trips: Landon to the West Coast and Gordon to Canada. They were both due home today. Milton stepped farther into the walk in closet where he’d been straightening the row of shoes. He didn’t want to talk to them. He’d snap at one of them and end up ass high over the chair while Gordon beat him for his imprudence. 

Milton heard a suitcases being tossed on the bed, and the sound of shoes being kicked off without a care to their location. That had to be Landon; Gordon never dropped his clothes around the apartment. He was fussy to the extreme; all he needed was a pair of white gloves.

Landon groaned and collapsed into the armchair. Milton could just see a portion of him through the cracked door. Landon ran his hand through his hair, turning order into disorder and groaned again.

“Shit!” Landon didn’t swear, or at least no one swore around Gordon. “God!” Landon raked his fingers through his hair and jerked his tie off. “Where’d that boy get to? He’d at least be pretty to look at.”

Milton almost popped out of the closest. He was that boy, and he was more than some attractive accessory. Landon could go buy another painting if he wanted something nice to look at. Milton had polished the damn place for two days, and he was no more than the slave and the pretty bauble.

“Landon.” The second lord had arrived. Gordon’s voice was warm and rich, a tone Milton never heard directed toward him. He only got the sharp orders and the impossible demands.

“Fuck it!”

“Boy.” Gordon grabbed Landon’s chin and studied his eyes for a long moment. “Strip.”

Landon’s clothes hit the floor in a pile with no care paid to the fancy custom fitted shirt or the wool trousers from London. From his vantage point among the cluster of suits, Milton watched Landon sink smoothly to his knees and lower his head, the perfect slave. Milton always felt humiliated and stupid on his knees. Landon was beautiful in his absolute stillness and in the pristine and flawless whiteness of his skin.

“Boy, you need this?” Gordon’s fingers twisted in Landon’s hair and jerked his head up.

“Yes, sir. Landon’s voice was hoarse and needy.

“Get me hard.”

Milton could only see the back of Landon’s head, the dark hair buried in the crotch, the edges of Gordon’s gray suit framing his boy.

“Enough.” Gordon pulled Landon off and threw him over the rolled arm of the chair. Gordon’s right hand slapped a tattoo of swats down on the white cheeks, rapidly turning them pink as his left hand scrabbled in the dresser drawer for condoms and lube.

Milton’s view was of the back, gray worsted trousers slamming forward. The noise was of a hard fuck. Landon had to be getting crushed against the chair, the air slammed out of his lungs. Gordon groaned and slumped forward. 

“My beautiful boy.” Gordon pulled out, tied off the condom, and threw it in the trash with practiced ease. The kiss was slow and sensual, Gordon’s hands around Landon’s head, Landon’s arms around Gordon’s back, their bodies melding into one, a mixture of naked flesh and wool and ironed cotton. “Better?”

“Thank you.”

They disappeared from view, and Milton heard the water of the shower. Hair wet, they both came out of the bathroom. Gordon was dressed in the white terry cloth robe that had hung behind the door. Landon was naked, not even a towel around his waist.

“You’ll be cold,” Gordon said, his arm looped possessively around Landon’s shoulders.

“I want to be free for a moment. I’m all suited out. Please.”

Gordon kissed Landon’s forehead. “I’ll turn up the heat.”

The thermostat was by the closet door. It was too late.

“You imbecilic boy! Get out here.”

Milton scrambled from his hiding place, heat burning in his cheeks, unable to pull any dignity around himself.

“Gordon, don’t.” Milton couldn’t imagine how someone stark naked and just fucked over the armchair could have the voice of a general demanding a brigade advance. “What he saw is as much or more about the power exchange as the polished shoes and all the sirs and the beautiful company manners.”

“I wasn’t putting on a porn show.”

“Milton knows that. He was cleaning, and we interrupted him. It looks gorgeous, honey,” Landon said to Milton. He ran his hand down Milton’s groin where nothing could hide the bulge. “Go take care of your hormones in the shower, and then we’ll talk. I’ll deal with grumpy bear. Nothing you saw is a secret. Our sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of. Go on, boy. I promise it’ll be fine.”