Jus Primae Noctis - Volume 2 - Chapter 5

Jus Primae Noctis Volume 2, Chapter 5

They returned to Paris via the same route --- this city was still as lavish and profligate as ever, but even as he was immersed in its atmosphere, Walker could feel that something within himself had become fundamentally different from the Walker who had departed Paris.

Although his appearance was still the same as that suntanned and strong farmer from Stonehaven, his heart carried a thread of softness that had never existed in him before, and its ownership had been wholly given to someone that he would never previously have dared to even imagine.

He surreptitiously sneaked a glance at Wiltshire, who was sitting upright by his side and wearing an aristocratically aloof expression, and a trace of pain, along with sweetness, rose up together in his chest --- he was afraid of this version of himself, who was just the same as a sentimental woman whose eyes were only able to see the man she loved. But if his eyes were to look away even slightly, an ineffable emptiness would also well up in his heart immediately.
　　
“Where are we going?” Afraid that his eyes would divulge his own feelings if the quiet were allowed to continue, Walker tried to find a topic of conversation to break up the awkward silence in the carriage.

Wiltshire took a look outside the carriage at the colour of the sky, “It’s too late today, we’ll find a place to rest, and leave finding Portland’s apartment for tomorrow.”

“Are we going to the same hotel as last time?” Frankly speaking, Walker did not really wish to return to that place where so many memories that made his face blush and his heart race lingered, although the facilities could be regarded as luxurious and the service was also quite good.

Wiltshire could probably tell what was on Walker’s mind; he started to smile and say: “No, darling, we are not going there, we are switching to a more unusual one this time.” 

When the two servants who were leading the way respectfully opened the large door to the room, although Walker had already luxuriated in way too many sumptuous dwellings as he followed Wiltshire around, he could not help but to hold his breath at the sight of the beautiful scene that was presented to his eyes.

This room, which had the best scenery according to the hotel's owner, faced the Seine river and its tributary the Marne river. It was just the right height to allow for tourists who stood on the balcony to have a clear view of the unique architecture on both sides of the river and the pedestrians who were buzzing with activity all around. At a glance, the most refined and beautiful aspect of Paris was undoubtedly laid out at Walker's feet.

“Do you like it?” Wearing an indulgent smile, Wiltshire embraced Walker's waist from the back and stood together with him on the balcony, peering down upon the boundless scenic beauty at their feet.

“It’s really beautiful…” Walker's speech was a little indistinct, although he did not really know the going rates of rooms in luxury hotels, he could approximate a guess that solely on the basis of his own income, this was a place that he could not even think of setting foot into for his entire lifetime.

“Good, as long as you like it… I want you to slowly become accustomed to all of this luxury, so that you will become unable to separate from me…” Drawing close to Walker's ear, Wiltshire declared his ulterior motives, using a volume of voice that was so low that it was nearly inaudible.

The hand that Walker had rested on the rail immediately tightened, and in a flash, his heart fell into a state that was difficult to express with words. It seemed to be bitter, yet it also seemed to be sweet, it carried limitless emotional attachment and reluctance to part, and it also had some emotional suffering that was impossible to describe.

“Do you love me?” Wiltshire's moist tongue lightly licked and flicked at Walker's ear and the soft area behind it, and his mesmerizing voice could not possibly have been any more alluring.

“Ah…” Not daring to believe that this syrupy sweet sound had originated from his own mouth, Walker wanted to restrain Wiltshire's hand, which had already made an incursion under his clothes and was roaming all over the place.

“I’m very tired, today let’s not…” However, his quickened breathing betrayed the true feelings that lay under his refusal.

“I know that, today we won’t go all the way…” From the sound of Wiltshire's voice, he was also panting heavily. The erection at his crotch was pressing hard and stiff against Walker from behind and even he did not dare to be certain that his words had been sincere when he had said them.

Making no reply, Walker only felt those familiar pair of hands --- he could not possibly be any more familiar with them --- wandering under his own clothes, setting him aflame and making him grow intoxicated. But at the same time, those flames also brought him incessant pain…

“Didn’t you say we won’t go all the way?” Feeling a hot and stiff pressure being exerted against his back entrance, Walker could not help but to give a muffled protest. 

“Darling, just one time… is that out of the question?” His voice was dejected and also brimming with desire, the Marquis was suffering so much that he wanted to bury himself inside that warm body, but because of Walker's refusal, he was trapped in an impossible situation, unable to advance or to retreat.

Sensing that the man behind him was enduring unbearable torment because of his desire, Walker bit his lip. He wanted to give up his reticence and indulge him just like that, but he was also afraid that should he do so, he would henceforth be carried away by the waves created by this tenderness that he could ill afford.

Wiltshire also did not force him to comply as he had done previously --- Walker could hear him breathing hard because he was straining to control himself. Feeling those large hands that were wrapped around his own waist tremble slightly, Walker's heart gradually softened, and he was almost going to open his mouth to say that he could enter...

The Marquess felt the heat at his crotch was as burning hot as a red-hot piece of iron that had just emerged from a furnace; in his heart, he longed to immediately bury himself into the warm, flexible, and tight insides of Walker's body. But a strange feeling, one which he could neither explain clearly nor reason out an understanding of in his mind, made him feel that he could not bear to force his way inside as he habitually did in the past. He only continuously used the tip, which was leaking honeyed fluids, to rub against the fine crevice between the Scotsman's two cheeks, striving for some pleasure to alleviate the ache.

Feeling that the place he found unbearable to speak of gradually become moist with the fluids secreted by the Marquess, Walker felt so ashamed that his whole face flushed red. What he found to be most unacceptable was that he himself was actually becoming affected by the Marquess's feverish body temperature and the lewd friction; within his body, the desire that he had forcibly suppressed was gradually gaining ground.

“Go… go into the room…” Although he knew that his naked lower body was being obscured by the parapet of the balcony and it was impossible that other people would be able to see what was going on, but at the very thought of making love in a place that was out in the open air, Walker still found the idea unbearable mentally.

“… That won’t do, I would not be able to contain myself…” The Marquess was so tormented by the violent desire that was raging through his body that his speech had almost become garbled, he was afraid that even a single unguarded movement of his body would result in him being unable to keep from shooting all over Walker's body.

“Don’t do this here… go inside the room, I… I’ll let you inside…” Although his words had really been quite cryptic, Walker still felt so ashamed that he really wanted to find a burrow in the ground to bury himself in.

Out of Walker's sight, Wiltshire's eyes immediately lit up and without any hesitation, he lifted the Scotsman up by his waist.

“…”Walker still wanted to say something, but in the end, because the situation laid before his eyes was too licentious, he was unable to open his mouth to speak up.

Once the two of them had fallen onto the huge bed with its soft mattress that was as white as snow, the Marquess, who was brimming with impatience, rushed into the Scotsman's body. The feeling of being totally filled in an instant caused the two men to be unable to keep from moaning loudly, and furthermore the Marquess immediately began to vigorously and wildly sprint back and forth --- because he had already been lubricated by fluid when they had previously been dallying around, the insides of Walker's body was already wet and pliant, allowing Wiltshire to thrust in and out smoothly, going straight to the very depths of his body.

“Ah… uh…uh…” At the beginning, Walker had tried desperately not to make any noise, but as the Marquess's movements became rougher and rougher, he also could not curb the desire to call out wildly, and uncontrollably started making loud moans in time with Wiltshire's thrusts.

“… Walker, say that you love me! Quickly!” The intensity of his emotions caused the Marquess to relentlessly pursue ever greater heights of pleasure. Manipulating his own engorged desire and the Scotsman's, he wildly planted kisses all over Walker's body and tried to exhort him into speaking those words so as to assuage the inexplicable emptiness that had taken residence in his heart.

By that point, Walker only felt that his whole body seemed to have been reduced to the area that was connected to the Marquess. His capacity for speech, or for reason, had already been entirely drowned out by the extreme pleasure. He, who was so stirred up that he had almost been driven to the point of frenzy by the Marquess's forceful thrusts, was almost on the brink of losing the strength to even maintain his breathing. Needless to say, thinking about the emotional entanglement between the two was beyond his ability, and he was simply unable to respond to any demand made by the Marquess.

Having waited in vain for the Scotsman's answer, the Marquess was highly dissatisfied and not about to admit defeat, but he was also unable to hinder the approaching climax of physical pleasure. He could only call out wildly and cling tightly onto Walker's body at the moment when he rushed to the peak of pleasure, and wilfully spill out the floods of boiling hot fluid into the deepest part of his body --- taking this to be a exacting a small measure of vengeance.

“Ooh…” This kind of feeling was not a pleasant one; to have the deepest part of the insides of his body, which had been fucked wide-open, suddenly sprinkled with a great quantity of hot fluid caused Walker's face to blanch instantly and he started to groan. Even so, the Marquess still maintained the same position, buried inside Walker, with not the slightest intention to pull out from his body.

“Wil… Brett, you…” Sensing that his own body had become soft and plaint with no strength remaining to him, Walker still tried hard to push away the Marquess who was still pressing down upon him.

However, the Marquess stubbornly restrained the Scotsman's arms and insisted on taking him into his embrace.

“Why won’t you say that you love me?”

Instantaneously, a look of sorrow flashed across Walker’s face. He lowered his eyelids slightly, and said in a voice that was so low as to be almost inaudible: “Since I am not a woman, what’s the use of speaking of love, you are still going to marry a noblewoman, and sire a whole bunch of heirs... what is the point of speaking of such drivel just so as to console myself?”

The lovemaking caused him to forsake his usual resolute emotional defences, and he could not help but to speak aloud his most honest views about this relationship, ones that came from the bottom of his heart. Yes, he had never once believed that there was any possibility for him and an aristocratic man like Wiltshire to remain together and becoming each other’s companion and bulwark for life. From the very bottom of his heart, he had always felt that the two of them were like two separate threads that had become momentarily twisted together but were bound for different destinations in the long-term. Although they had once encountered each other, but in the end, as time passed, they would gradually drift further and further apart, never to meet ever again.

Perhaps it was because he could hear that Walker was being serious, Wiltshire also erased the mirthful and teasing expression he usually wore from his face, and his jade-green eyes also revealed a trace of earnestness. He leaned over, kissed the Scotsman tenderly and with a sincerity that he had never presented before, he guaranteed: “That won’t happen, there won’t be some noblewoman, and there will not be any heirs… Our relationship will also not end once we return to Britain, this trip to France is but a short chapter in the story of our lives together, in future... for the rest of our lives, we shall forever remain together just like this, and we shall forever be as happy together as we are now…”

Once the promise had left his lips, Wiltshire was a little bit startled by his own sincerity, but he felt not the slightest shred of regret that he had just made a vow to devote his lifetime to this man before his eyes --- when had this started? When was it that, just like becoming addicted to a drug, he had become hooked on this ordinary Scotsman's body and spirit, even going so far as to have the intention of having him for the rest of his life?
　　

Was it in that dance hall in Paris? Was it on the beds in those countless small hotels? Or perhaps, he had already become like this as early as that very moment in Stonehaven when he had captured his virginity under the pretext of jus primae noctis.

Compared to the resolution of the Marquess, which showed in his expression, Walker was totally doubtful. It wasn't that he did not feel that the Marquess had gotten progressively more tender towards him, it wasn't that he had not come to understand that there were powerful bonds between the two of them that could not be broken, he simply could not imagine that the lord of Stonehaven, Brett Thomas, the Marquess of Wiltshire, of the Great British Empire, would be perfectly happy to fall at the hands of a man such as himself, who did not possess any charms to speak of.

“You’re not allowed to disbelieve me…” Even he himself was a little bit suspicious about whether he had gone mad or not, but sweet speeches and honeyed words that were so sappy he could die continued to flow from this mouth that was more accustomed to hurling mockery and sarcasm. In an attempt to disguise his own embarrassment, Wiltshire began to try to rub his body against Walker, hoping to use sex to keep Walker from noticing just how much he yearned for his love.

Walker's bare body was still sensitive, and it seemed that it was immediately ignited upon the Marquess's touch. Writhing, ragged and scratchy groans emanated from the depths of his throat. He also preferred to use his body to interact with the Marquess, rather than to waste any more time on speaking to him about topics as without prospects as love or spending the rest of their lives together.

Wiltshire wanted to hide the self-consciousness he felt as a result of his confession, whereas Walker wished to escape from having to dwell on that problem. Never before had the hearts and souls of the two of them been so much in agreement as they threw themselves into rubbing their lips and tongues with each other. Although the process of penetrating and receiving remained the same, but because of Wiltshire's confession, a thread of tender feelings had entered into the mix. They engaged in joyous lovemaking all through the night, tenaciously immersing themselves in their sweet feelings, until neither of them had enough strength left to move and with their minds hazy, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

On the next day, when Walker woke up from a dreamless sleep, he was greatly startled to discover that he was still being held tightly in the Marquess's embrace, and those crystalline green eyes of Wiltshire, which had mesmerized innumerable men and women, were also staring at his face.

Without his realising it, a blush coloured his face. As if he were trying to hide something, he hastily got up and hurriedly came up with a topic of conversation to escape from the Marquess's embrace, which made his heart race and his mind to be cast into chaos: “Are we going now… ah, to that Portland’s residence?” 

It would seem that he also did not intend to coerce the Scotsman much, the Marquess lazily propped his body up into a half-sitting posture, while still holding onto Walker. Abruptly he rested his head at the top of Walker's upper thighs, using it as a pillow. In a flash, his flowing golden hair was spilling all over Walker's naked lower body, and the ticklish sensation over that sensitive area made him curl up his legs instantly.

“You…” Getting angry, he was just about to rebuke the Marquess for his debased actions, but in the next second the Marquess's next move alarmed him so much that he choked back his words.

“Ah, you are very energetic over here!” Once again, his usual wicked smile hung upon the corners of his lips, and he played with Walker's sex organ which had produced a physical response without his being aware of it. The relaxed expression on his face was as if he were enjoying the sight of the most beautiful scenery in the world.

“You… quickly let go!” Obviously, that place had already been fondled a few hundred times before, but regardless, under the gaze of the gorgeous Marquess, he was simply unable to keep his heart serene.

“And if I don’t let go, what would you do then?” There was mockery in Wiltshire's green eyes, but there was also a barely perceptible trace of gentle jesting.

“Do you actually want to find the Princess or not?” From the looks of him, the Marquess seemed to be having so much fun that he had forgotten all about the actual reason he had come to France in the first place and Walker felt that there was a need for him to give Wiltshire a reminder.

Immediately, the Marquess pursed up his lips, and with displeasure written all over his face, he said: “Princess, what Princes, isn’t she just an unfamiliar woman, there is no need for you to be so zealous!” 

The same time as he was muttering to himself, he took advantage of the opportunity to hug Walker tightly, intending to push him down onto the bed.

Not knowing whether he should laugh or cry, Walker desperately tried to fend off his attack. Seeing that the forceful approach was meeting with no success, Wiltshire changed tactics, trying a softer approach. His incomparably beautiful jade-green eyes sent out a look that carried an overtone of entreaty. “… oh, let me just kiss you for a short while… Walker, sweetheart, let’s just kiss for a while…”

Although he did not know what scheme this Marquess, who was behaving like a spoiled coquette [1] as if his life depended on it that morning, had planned to stage, Walker was a little afraid that should he continue to bicker with him, it would go on and on with no end in sight.

“Then… just for a while, you’re not to…”

Before he could finish speaking, his lips were fiercely sealed by the Marquess, after struggling for a couple of moments, in the end, Walker still gave in to the hot, deeply intimate, kiss.

Even as they were getting off the horse carriage, Walker's legs were still trembling because of the wildly passionate kiss that he had received an hour earlier --- he was a little afraid of this version of himself, who had become so enraptured with this intimacy with the Marquess. He knew that he had already completely lost his bearings, and he was no longer that dutiful, simple farmer from Stonehaven who was at peace with himself. After having been cherished by the Marquess's arms, which were always full of desire and longing, having been clasped tightly to his embrace, he had started to change. He was becoming someone who longed for the kind of bodily contact that pulled at his very heartstrings, becoming someone who had started to become dependent on every minute and every second that he spent with this beautiful aristocratic youth, Wiltshire.

“This is Portland's residence... it's nothing much, is it!” The Marquess's comments pulled Walker back from the myriad thoughts racing through his mind and made him survey the old-fashioned three-storey apartment building before his eyes in silence.

Although his eyes wasn't as discerning as those of Wiltshire, who had long become accustomed to living in luxurious quarters, Walker could also see that it had once been a magnificent mansion belonging to the rich and powerful. At the moment, even though the grey bricks were showing some mottling, but one could still imagine how glorious it must have been once upon a time.

Wiltshire walked around the building once, before returning to the front door and ringing the doorbell.

Even though they were outside, the scratchy sound of the doorbell was still very clearly audible, but no matter how long they waited, no one came to the door.

Wiltshire wore a look of impatience on his face, and he forcefully pressed on the doorbell again --- again, there was no response whatsoever.

The Marquess tugged at Walker's hand, and circled back with him to an alley at the back of the house.

“Help support me.” Not giving a care to the gorgeous jacket he was wearing, the Marquess began to try climbing up to a small window on the second floor of the building that was open.

“This is illegal!” Scandalised, Walker whispered to give him a reminder. However, in that moment when he saw that Wiltshire was about to slide off, he still propped him up firmly.

At long last, the slim Marquess managed to wriggle through the little window that was probably just used for ventilation for the most part. After indicating that Walker should go back to the front door to wait for him, the Marquess disappeared from the window.

He only had to wait for approximately five minutes before the Marquess opened the door of the building, motioning for Walker to go inside.

Having never before seen a burglar with such a natural and relaxed attitude, Walker was so amazed that he felt a little bit like laughing.

“There’s nobody here.” In contrast, the Marquess appeared to be quite solemn, as if he were the rightful owner of this building.

Even as he just stepped into the spacious hall, Walker could already feel that there was something very wrong about that place --- the whole house looked empty, with only very few pieces of furniture scattered about, revealing a forlornness that was akin to the sun disappearing behind the western hills as night approached [2].

“There are no servants, no decorations, there isn’t even a single piece of furniture that is up to snuff... Either the Baron Simon Portland doesn't live here or he is actually an utterly impoverished wretch…” The Marquess waved his hands around as he spoke vehemently, not even the slightest bit conscious that he was actually a burglar.

“Have you taken a look upstairs?” Walker still harboured hope that by some fluke, the Princess might be hidden in some corner within the building.

“It’s the same, there is nothing besides some pieces of broken furniture.” Wiltshire waved his hand, and said with a derisive look on his face: “Maybe when the Princess saw that he was this poor, she was scared off and ran away.”

“Then what are we to do now…” Walker was feeling a little lost and directionless.

“…” The Marquess was just about to answer, but suddenly, he covered Walker's mouth and dragged him behind one of the curtains to their back.

The sound of a key turning in a lock came from the direction of the door, scaring Walker was so much that he did not even dare to breathe loudly. He could only look on from a sliver of a gap beside him as the door was opened and two men walked inside, one after the other.

End of Jus Primae Noctis Volume 2, Chapter 5

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[1]: 撒娇 (sā jiāo): there is no exact equivalent for this in the English language I think. It is something like whining, but in a flirtatious/spoiled manner, but the person that is doing it is confident that the other party would be receptive. The other party is usually a loved one. It’s not limited to a pair of lovers, a child could also do this to his parents or elder relatives.

[2]: A sunset is often a metaphor in Chinese for decline and so, it’s not meant to evoke beautiful imagery. Rather, it’s meant to evoke melancholic feelings.

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