It’s the middle of November, a cold and biting night, when he rubs a smudge of flour off his cheek and decides that this is the night he should try it.
He’s heard about it, of course, from disapproving whispers and awkward mutterings – but he’s never really tried it. Never slipped on old clothes, gone to some hidden bar, picked out a nice man (Short, with fairer hair than him, preferably with a moustache) and indulged in some rather private acts… But Maltravers has been being particularly brilliant today. And if he can’t have Maltravers groaning or Maltravers tight around him then he’ll have to make do with somebody else who looks remarkably similar.
“I’m going out to see some friends, Blenkers!” Maltravers interrupts his thoughts as he’s standing absently in front of the cooker. Makes him jump and stumble (and maybe start believing a little in fate) as he spins around and awkwardly darts to the kitchen door.
“Alright, Old bean!” And he beams, as he catches a glimpse of Maltravers wonderful face and just has to melt a little, “will you be back late again?”
“Probably. Do you mind?”
“Sir might…”
They giggle together for a second, for sir is hardly scary no matter how much he rumbles, and then Maltravers turns back to the door. Opens it and slips out with only one final, happy smile thrown back.
FILL: Pining For Your Face, Blenkinsop/Maltravers, Eventually NC-17 [3B/4]
He’s heard about it, of course, from disapproving whispers and awkward mutterings – but he’s never really tried it. Never slipped on old clothes, gone to some hidden bar, picked out a nice man (Short, with fairer hair than him, preferably with a moustache) and indulged in some rather private acts… But Maltravers has been being particularly brilliant today. And if he can’t have Maltravers groaning or Maltravers tight around him then he’ll have to make do with somebody else who looks remarkably similar.
“I’m going out to see some friends, Blenkers!” Maltravers interrupts his thoughts as he’s standing absently in front of the cooker. Makes him jump and stumble (and maybe start believing a little in fate) as he spins around and awkwardly darts to the kitchen door.
“Alright, Old bean!” And he beams, as he catches a glimpse of Maltravers wonderful face and just has to melt a little, “will you be back late again?”
“Probably. Do you mind?”
“Sir might…”
They giggle together for a second, for sir is hardly scary no matter how much he rumbles, and then Maltravers turns back to the door. Opens it and slips out with only one final, happy smile thrown back.
…A pity that he can’t have that face.