“William!”
At the sound of Elijah’s startled cry, William reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m here, Eli. Right here.” The palm enclosed in his own was slick with sweat and Elijah’s pulse raced beneath his skin, drumming hoof beats against his wrist.
“I couldn’t see you! It was too dark.” Pulse and voice slowly calmed and then Elijah said, “I…I’m so sorry. You must think me an utter fool.”
“Not at all. I know how bad nightmares can be. Now come here and I’ll do my best to let you sleep without troublesome dreams.”
Elijah moved into the circle of his arms and William breathed in the strong scent of fresh heat, simply enjoying the sensation of holding someone close, someone he could think of as his own. It was a good thought, to have someone – even though he had to share him.
But being close had its own dangers and soon passion rose between them. They hunted down each other’s mouths, lips skating and brushing gently, only to return for more and more again. Hips began to thrust, lazily at first, and then with increasing determination as they consumed each other’s moans, their hands seeking out skin to caress and nipples to tease to prominence.
On the other side of the bed, Cropper stirred, rolling over and pressing himself to Elijah’s back, and, for a moment, neither of the younger boys so much as breathed, terrified of being caught in this, technically forbidden, act. They need not have worried. Driven away by the heat of their bodies, Cropper flung back the covers and beat a retreat to cooler sheets leaving them to their lust-hot nest on William’s side of the bed.
*
They were late risers, so Brolly avoided them by the simple expedient of removing himself at dawn; he’d done it a thousand times and in the beginning, this felt little different. His place in Stevenson’s gang guaranteed a few days’ amusement and when he bored of the fifth year, he turned his attentions to the younger boys leading Jones in a rampage through the lower school.
Evenings, however, were a special kind of hell.
Ten minutes until lights out and he had no choice but to return to his room. Brolly paused outside the study door and pressed his ear to the wood, listening for a hint as to what the others were doing.
Silence.
Maybe tonight he would be able to sneak in without running the gamut of emotions when Cropper refused to meet his eyes and failed, yet again, to ask him to stay.
The knob turned under his hand but he got no further. The door was locked. He was shut out, from his room, from Cropper’s bed, from his life! And Brolly knew precisely who was responsible.
Loud shrieks of boyish laughter rang out suddenly from inside and the temptation to turn away was overwhelming. But, truthfully, where would he go? There was no where else. This was where he belonged as surely as the sun set and rose again, and had been since his first week at St. Peter’s.
Swallowing his pride, Brolly banged on the door and shouted, “Let me in, you swines.”
*
“I’m going to bloody well thrash you, Jones,” William yelled across the quad, shaking his fist after the retreating bully.
Elijah continued staring up at the horse chestnut, where two shirts billowed from the topmost branches like a pair of flags on a ship, and wondered desperately when this was going to end.
It seemed that William had read his mind when he asked, “Do you think if we begged enough, Cropper would take him back? I’m not entirely sure I can stand another week of this.”
“Without witnesses, all we have are suspicions and that is hardly enough to take to Cropper,” Elijah argued rationally. “And no one will tell that it’s Brolly behind either this or any of the other things that have happened.”
“He was the only one who could have got at our books,” grumbled William. “Brutus was furious when he saw the state of my Euripides. I ended up with three extra verses to construe, and he stole my key so I don’t even have that to help.”
“We’ll tackle it tonight, if you promise to lend me your eyes for the sonnets. Luckily they escaped the worst of the ink bottle.”
“It’s a deal-” William began only to be interrupted by a shout.
“Ho, there! Castor and Pollox! The dinner gong sounded ages ago.”
Those less that imaginative nicknames were also courtesy of Brolly, William reckoned, but again had no proof. And, annoying as they were, they managed to be better than Oily and Bollocks, which is what Jones had immediately changed them to.
“Leave it out, Hunt,” William bellowed back at the boy that called to them and, dismissing the call for food, turned back to the tree. “How are we going to get those down?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea. I can’t begin to imagine how he got them up there in the first place.”
Grabbing a stick, William took a step backwards and threw it half-heartedly up into the branches. “Forster, probably,” he said dodging the stick on the rebound. “The little sneak can climb like a monkey when Jones wants him to.” After a thoughtful pause he added, “Though why we need Sunday shirts is beyond me as neither of us has to attend chapel. Perhaps since he is the one insisting, we can persuade Cropper to purchase new ones.”
The idea of persuading Cropper brought a smile to William’s lips. After last night he was fairly certain that there was nothing Elijah and he together couldn’t get out of the bigger boy.
*
“Complete access?”
“Within reason, yes.”
“To both of them?”
“How many times do I need to tell you? Full access to both the boys so long as you keep me informed as to what you are doing. And, of course, on the strict understanding that should I want either of them-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Brutus waved Cropper’s clarification away, he’d heard that part the first time. In fact, he’d heard all of it the first time, he just hadn’t believed it. Maybe this was a trick. It wouldn’t be the first time Cropper had tried something like that. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“Frankly?” Cropper answered. “You try sharing your bed with them and see how long you manage to keep up. Honestly, Brutus, this is no joke. I need to sleep and between them those boys appear to be possessed of an inexhaustible supply of energy.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Brutus’ mouth but he manfully managed to subdue it and faked real concern. “Have you tried separating them? That seems like the obvious solution.”
Cropper sighed, took a sip from his tea and said, “I did. That was the unholy row on Thursday night. Young Elijah kicked up such a fuss I really had no choice but to let William back in and the minute I dropped off they were all over each other. It’s unacceptable, they are more enamoured of each other than is entirely decent already.”
“You could just let Will have his head. Granted, he’s young but-”
“No!” Cropper slammed down his cup sending tea spilling over the table. “I will not let the little blighter win. He knelt before me, Brutus, virtually begged me to take him back and I am not about to let that slip through my fingers simply because they won’t be parted.”
He paused and ran his fingers through his hair before glancing up at Brutus and saying, “This time next year we will be gone, and you know as well as I that Timothy is far from ready to take up the reins. Indeed, he may never be. He’s a flawed creature and, while some of that is undoubtedly my own fault, it does nothing to alter the fact that, without William, this school will be left without a wolf for the first time in over a century. Do you wish to answer for that?”
Brutus immediately shook his head. There were many things he was willing to do for Cropper but answering for that level of failure was not one of them.
“So you will do as I ask? And allow me to bring Brolly back into the fold before he ends up completely out of control?”
*
He had to do this. Playing the pranks, though fun, hadn’t assuaged his fear of being passed over, passed on and abandoned; the same fear that had haunted him since he’d first sought sanctuary in Cropper’s bed two years ago. He’d watched boys come and go, and none had ever presented a real threat until now. And if they did, a little manipulation in the form of sweet words in Cropper’s ear went a long way to making sure they weren’t for long. Even William he would have managed to undermine, one way or another, but faced with two of them, Brolly was at a loss.
The paper crinkled under his hands as he fought to find the perfect words. And they had to be perfect. They had to convey the information without letting any hint of why he was writing escape. Because, no matter how many times he tried telling himself it wasn’t, Brolly knew the letter was motivated by pure jealousy, and that would never be tolerated.
To, the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart…
*
Brutus took one look at Cropper’s face when Brolly returned and immediately
herded Elijah and William from the room. There was about to be an almighty row
and, if it concluded the way it normally did, the two older boys would not want
an audience.
On occasions like this, Brutus normally found himself having heretical thoughts about the validity of the wolf, ram and hart model of humanity. After all, when one of its staunchest proponents was unable to bide by the rules, it made him wonder what hope there was for the rest of them. But right now he was too busy remembering Cropper’s instructions to worry about the niceties of politics.
Having evicted Lyall, with neither ceremony nor warning, but with instructions to get his arse into Brolly’s room and not to come out whatever he heard, Brutus set about keeping his two little sluts out of trouble for the evening. As he’d said to Cropper, it was hardly a chore; Brutus considered himself far more imaginative than Cropper and he proposed to put his mind to good use.
But first things first. It was time to call an end to Cropper’s little indulgences.
The door had hardly closed behind Lyall’s retreating back when Brutus had William face down on the bed, pinned there by a hand on his neck. The boy struggled but there was little chance of him getting free, not when Brutus had inches and pounds over him.
“Price!” Brutus snapped over his shoulder. “Get in that bed and don’t move unless I tell you to.”
Elijah flinched but obeyed, clambering into Lyall’s still warm bed and pulling the covers up over him until only the top of his head was visible. Brutus blinked at him, shook his head to dismiss the strange behaviour and turned his attention back to William who was now lying still, glaring at the wall with a rebellious expression on his face.
“Having a problem, lad?”
“No. You’re not Cropper, and I answer to none but him. There’s nothing you can do to me without his say so.”
“Is that really what you think?” Brutus retorted, deciding at the last moment to keep his agreement with Cropper a secret. There was a level of joy to be had in breaking this one by his own hand. Tightening his grip on William’s neck, he bent over him and whispered, “Remember the prep room, boy? Now, are you going to do what I tell you, or am I going to have to make you?”
For a moment it seemed as though William would stick to his guns but after a few moments a shudder ran through his slim body and he swallowed heavily, dropping his gaze and nodding, the counterpane scuffing up under his cheek.
Brutus stood up, cautiously releasing his hold on William’s neck and smiled in satisfaction as the boy remained motionless, whitened fingers curling into the covers his only remaining sign of rebellion. Christ, but the boy looked good when he submitted and Brutus had been waiting for this for too long, far too long. Fucking him in the prep room was not the same. That had been a stolen moment, this was for the night and by the end of it he was going to ensure William never desired another.
As Brutus loosened his suspenders and tugged off his trousers, William pressed
his face into the counterpane fighting the voice inside him saying that this
was not somewhere he wanted to be. Because, truly, it was, and as he understood
it, being a wolf meant taking what you wanted, even if that meant being taken.
So surely this was acceptable? If it wasn’t then William determined to
change the rules so it damn well was.
Slick fingers pressed against him, briefly slipping inside, only to be replaced far too quickly by the blunt head of Brutus’ cock. And the burn as it pushed in made William gasp and clench his teeth, willing the protest at that welcome pain to stay where it belonged – hidden.
“Christ, boy. Feels good.” Brutus’ voice, thick with desire, brushed up his spine followed by huge hands spanning his ribs and shoving his shirt up and over his head. Trapped in a world of white cotton, all William could do was feel. Melt as fingers pressed into his skin, as breath, hot and panting, scoured his shoulders. Gasp as Brutus thrust home, deeper and deeper, until every nerve in his body was squirming for a little less, a little more.
Riding tentatively back against the powerful thrusts, William hoped that much movement at least was permitted. The moan and tightening of fingers suggested it was more than welcome, so he did it again, grinding his erection into the rough counterpane and tying the material in knots around his hands. His heart thumped loudly in his ears and, as they fell into a frantic rhythm, William felt his arousal begin to spiral; it wouldn’t take long for him to come if Brutus kept pounding into him like this.
He was teetering on the edge when Elijah’s frantic yell of “Get off him! Get off him!” split the air, and, with an ‘oof’, Brutus landed heavily on his back, knocking them both flat on the bed.
“What the hell is wrong with you, boy!” Brutus bellowed, lashing out and sending the younger boy flying onto the floor.
“You were hurting him,” Elijah cried through twisted lips, his hand pressed to his temple where Brutus’ fist had connected, and peered around the bigger boy who loomed over him. “William, he was hurting you!”
William tugged down his shirt, glanced over at his distraught friend and then buried his face in the covers, letting out a strangled groan. His cock throbbed with the need to come, his arse felt like it was on fire and, frankly, he was as annoyed as Brutus at Elijah’s ill-timed interruption.
“He wasn’t hurting me, Eli,” he explained, aiming to keep his words gentle but aware of their crabby tone. “It was just a shag. And a proper one at that.”
“But there was blood!” The shrill edge to Elijah’s voice suggested imminent hysteria. “You were bleeding and he was-” Gulps of air hurtled into Elijah’s lungs as tears stung his eyes. “He was hurting you.”
“If this is what Cropper’s had to put up with I’m not surprised he passed you off to me,” Brutus snapped, massaging his knuckles.
That made William sit up and take notice. “What do you mean passed us off?” he demanded.
Brutus dropped to his haunches and scrubbed his hands through his hair. This was what he got for not being suspicious; a young pup who spent all his time testing his milk teeth and a fledgling hart who had visions of being a ram. This was without doubt the last time he accepted a favour from Cropper, although…
Eyes narrowing, Brutus gazed over at Elijah and reassessed what he was seeing.
Did the boy have potential in that direction? He hadn’t thought twice
about taking on a boy twice his size in his efforts to protect William, and
though Lyall had already expressed a preference for being Will’s ram,
there were no rules to say a wolf couldn’t have more than one. Maybe this
was the answer they were all seeking.