Vol 2 Chapter 3 (2/2)

Although he was annoyed with the way the Marquess always turned their conversations into a combative meeting of the flesh without any provocation, Walker had to admit to himself that he was never ever bored when he was together with Wilts.h.i.+re. Besides his lovely visage and lofty status, the Marquess's complex character was like a book that one could never complete reading; every time it was flipped opened, the reader would be presented with fresh content. This caused Walker to forget the fatigue of the journey, and it was with keen interest that he conversed with him --- of course, s.e.x was the spice that added even more flavour to the conversation between two people of vastly different social stations.

Every time Wilts.h.i.+re began to become weary from the conversation that required continuous concentrated effort, he would fall silent and lean against the back of the seat, observing Walker who was still deeply engrossed in their conversation. And when the Scotsman became aware that his gaze had become laced with a hidden agenda, and answered it with his own indignant or shamed glare, the Marquess would pounce on him and press him against the seat of the carriage.

Throughout the long and winding journey, the two people spent their time in a strange way, balanced between conversation and s.e.x, one activity following the other. In this way, one day pa.s.sed right after the other, and they were also getting closer and closer to their destination…

Very unfortunately, when the driver stopped the horse carriage to announce with much satisfaction that the great moment when they had finally arrived at their destination was at hand, it just so happened that Walker and Wilts.h.i.+re were in the middle of interacting using their lower bodies.

When he heard the driver announce with unbridled joy that they had reached their destination, the Scotsman, who had been twisted in an awkward position and was grinding his teeth as he endured the pain of being penetrated, began to try pus.h.i.+ng away the Marquess, who was on top of his body. However, Wilts.h.i.+re wilfully wrestled with him, while he picked up the pace of his thrusts and coupled it with the action of teasing his nipples, trying to use pleasure to persuade him to qive up his resistance.

“Darling, it’ll be finished quickly enough! Very quickly… I’ll be coming soon… you’re amazing! Just a moment! Ah ah…” Paying no mind to the driver who was standing quietly outside the carriage and waiting for them, Wilts.h.i.+re continued to let out pa.s.sionate shouts, at the same time as he was fiercely pounding into Walker, who was nearly completely exhausted.

After the Marquess finally enjoyed himself to his heart's content, Walker even had to rely on his help to tidy up his clothes. Swaying unsteadily on his feet, he got down from the car. In that split second, his extremely disappointing face had let him down again and became a sheet of red --- the carriage had stopped in front of a building that was representative of the French style. Standing beside the driver, who was wearing a stiff expression, was the female owner of the hotel who was dressed in a beautiful gown, and she was staring at Walker with wide eyes as he leaned on Wilts.h.i.+re's arm for support…

Walker had never before been so thankful for Wilts.h.i.+re's thick skin as he was at that moment --- the Marquess calmly supported him as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened and they followed behind the proprietress as she led them into the hotel. He also explained the reason they had not gotten off the carriage immediately in a rather understated way: “… Mr Robinson, my friend, he has a bit of a stomach-ache, I tried to relieve it with a bit of ma.s.sage.”

When the proprietress gave a relieved smile at receiving such an explanation and praised him for his dedication towards his friend, Walker could only wear a twisted expression as he did his best to walk with his usual posture while leaning on Wilts.h.i.+re's arm for support.

In accordance with his usual practice, Wilts.h.i.+re again made a request for the hotel's best suite --- only this time, his excuse for sharing the same room as Walker changed; now it was only to make it more convenient for him to take care of his sick friend.

After the proprietress instructed the maid to bring them water to wash their faces, she retired, wearing a professional smile on her face.

Following that, Wilts.h.i.+re laughed lightly and came to sit by the expressionless Walker's side. In a casual manner, he placed his hand on Walker's thigh --- which was immediately brushed away by the disgusted Walker.

The tired Scotsman sprawled onto the bed, unable to support his body anymore. In a hoa.r.s.e voice, he complained: “Don’t you have a limit at all? You are practically like a boar in rut! No, if I were to say you are like him, even a boar will feel insulted. Even a boar that is in rut is more enlightened than you!”

Wilts.h.i.+re heard what he had said and put on an injured expression. Clutching at his own chest, he affected the fragile voice of a pampered aristocrat and said: “Walker, your words wound me! Ah, you know how much I treasure every minute and every second that I spend with you!” Although that was what his lips were saying, in reality, he had rapidly stripped of the travelling jacket he had just put on not long ago, and was pressing down on Walker's body heavily.

Walker wished to weep, but he lacked the tears. At that moment, his whole body felt sore and limp, even the thinnest traces of strength that he could use to struggle had been wrung out of him --- but the Marquess's hands had already begun to seek out the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt, and he had also quickly jammed his knee between Walker's legs…

“It's all that d.a.m.ned driver's fault, he stopped the carriage before I had even had my fun!” The Marquess probably also felt that he had gone overboard, and for the first time ever, he opened his mouth to explain his l.u.s.t.

Walker had already become tired because the arduous journey, and the last round of love-making had worn him out so much that he was practically on the verge of collapse. When he heard Wilts.h.i.+re say those words, he only closed his eyes and ignored him.

A few minutes later…

“… No more! Beg of you… I can’t take it anymore… beg you please don’t do it anymore…” At first, Walker had tried to put up with it, gritting his teeth and allowing the Marquess to toss him around again and again. But the moment when the totally naked Walker felt Wilts.h.i.+re's finger arrive at the depths of his insides, which was still relaxed and flexible, intense dread suddenly rose up in him --- he really did lack the strength to struggle yet another time and could only use his voice, which was also on the verge of falling apart, to plead with the Marquess to let him off, since he was already approaching the limits of his endurance.

It was a pity that he did not know that he when was in this state, when the rims of his eyes were wet and his voice was pleading weakly, he would only rouse the wild beast that resided in Wilts.h.i.+re's heart further --- after Wilts.h.i.+re rejected the Scotsman's pleas with a deadpan face, he quickly flipped him over, used both of his hands to grip his waist and directly penetrated into the place which was already adequately loosened.

With the reason being that he had been entered from behind, the pain and humiliation Walker felt was increased. In a state where his awareness had become scattered and muddled, Walker found the tears of suffering that had spilled over because of the attack to be unbearable. Finally, in that moment when the Marquess had suddenly pulled out, only to thrust in forcefully again, he lost consciousness…

By the time Walker woke up, the whole room was showered with the splendour of the setting sun. Wilts.h.i.+re was sitting beside the window, looking serene as he read a book --- if he had not had personal experience of it, Walker would absolutely be unable to imagine that under this body with beauty so extraordinary that it had the power to move people, there lurked a nefarious and barbaric monster.

“You’ve woken?” When he saw that Walker had opened his eyes, Wilts.h.i.+re tossed aside the book in his hand and smilingly walked to the side of the bed.

“Do you feel a little better now?” As he was asking, he reached out a hand to stroke Walker's forehead. “Want me to help you wipe your face?” Not waiting for Walker's reply, he walked to the front of a dresser by the side of the room and poured out some hot water. Carrying the washbowl and towel, he walked back to the bed and started to wipe Walker's face and neck clean.

“You…” Walker watched his considerate actions with his heart palpitating with some fear --- Wilts.h.i.+re had always been adept at playing the part of a licentious and extravagant aristocrat, but he had never before revealed this kind of gentleness and warm familiarity.

“Don't open your mouth so wide, it makes you look very silly!” Lamentably, the very next sentence the Marquess uttered smashed into smithereens the tender sentiments that were just beginning to take root in the Scotsman’s heart.

Walker hurriedly closed his mouth, which had been hanging open because of his surprise, angered by the humiliation he had received, his tone of voice became mocking: “…I am very sorry about my gauche behaviour. But my Lord Marquess, please remove your honourable hands. I am just a commoner, I am not worthy of your concern.” As he was speaking, he was also reaching out his own hands to tear away Wilts.h.i.+re's hands, which were wiping his neck.

But Wilts.h.i.+re persisted in a most stubborn way, he even tore Walker's s.h.i.+rt open and began to wipe his chest --- weakened, Walker lacked the strength to engage in another bout of wrestling with him, and he could only choose to glare at Wilts.h.i.+re angrily to express his dissatisfaction.

At first, he only wanted to express his apologies through his actions, but Wilts.h.i.+re had slowly fallen in love with this game. It was different from direct caresses, their skin did not touch because of the towel, and Wilts.h.i.+re pretended to brush across the Scotsman's nipples accidentally, so as to make his body become even more sensitized. Seeing how cute Walker looked at that moment, when he was making a supreme effort to show restraint but was still unable to keep from breathing deeply, the corners of the Marquess's mouth could not help but to curve upwards.

“b.a.s.t.a.r.d! No need for you to wipe me!” When he saw Wilts.h.i.+re's lecherous smile, Walker suddenly regained his senses. He gave the Marquess a shove with his arm, thinking to get out of bed under his own power, but the result was that because he had used too much force, he took a tumble and fell to the floor.

Without expression, Wilts.h.i.+re looked at the Scotsman who was cutting a very sorry figure indeed. He knew that if he should laugh that this moment, he would surely be murdered by Walker. With great effort, he fought back the urge to laugh as he helped Walker up. Looking at the Scotsman's dejected profile, he tried to divert his attention away from his anger.

“I've asked around and have heard from people the location of Portland's residence. It is about an hour's journey from here; we shall set off early in the morning tomorrow.”

Walker was still deeply immersed in his miserable mood, but since Wilts.h.i.+re was speaking of proper business, he could only respond: “If I can get sufficient rest today, I don't mind setting off early tomorrow morning.”

When he saw how serious and proper Walker looked as he made his hint --- that he was not allowed to make another s.e.xual demand --- the Marquess could not help but to laugh out loudly and openly.

“My dear, no problem. Tonight we shall simply sleep.” That said, Wilts.h.i.+re bent his head and planted a kiss on Walker's forehead --- the setting rays of the sun that streamed in through the whole window illuminated his jade-green eyes; in a split second his intoxicating beauty, that caused people to be dazzled and stunned, pieced like a sharp arrow through the Scotsman's heart, and it was a long time before he managed to regain his senses...

End of Jus Primae Noctis Volume 2, Chapter 3

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[1]: 当啷 (dāng lāng): this is supposed to be a metallic clanging sound.

[2]: 波浪鼓 (bō lang gǔ ): A hand-held toy. When it is shaken from side to side, the beads at the side will strike the drum.

[3]: A note on the names of the characters in this volume. Many of them are probably French nationals, but the names sound more British in the translation. That’s because guessing at French names is quite beyond me, and these names are the closest that a google search turns up.

[4]: 面子 is the concept of ”Face” in Chinese culture. This is a very important concept that governs all social interaction. One can lose face, gain face, and lose/gain face for others. Face can be roughly translated as ”Dignity” or ”Respect”, but it is less about personal pride or ego, and more about how one is viewed by others. I think the closest Western concept would be social capital or stock. One is not only concerned with maintaining one's own face, he must also not cause others to lose face. You cannot gain face by causing others to lose face in Chinese culture, perhaps unlike in other cultures where you might be able to increase your personal prestige by proving a point at the expense of another person.

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