Disclaimer: I do not own AFI, this did not happen, this is total fiction at it�s worst. Luv.
The Story:
He was used to it by now. He cooked something with just a bare pinch of salt, and Lady Armenia would send it back.
�No spice!� She would yell at him, �Can�t you remember? No salt, no pepper, NO GARLIC!�
Oh, yes, he remembered. Lady Armenia was too delicate for anything nut the simplest tastes. Her tongue was golden, her stomach silk.
He put the soup in a wooden bowl and brought the reserve dish; near stale bread and cooked noodles, no sauce but half a tomato. Lady Armenia was now silent as he brought out the tray and set it before her. She picked up the fork and gingerly moved around the noodles. She gave him a dismissing flick of her hand and began eating.
Davey bowed from the waist and backed away into the kitchen. The soup he put in the cold pantry. The Lord was not so picky an eater. Once, he told Davey one night he came in late, he had the pleasure of dining on the wild boar that nearly ambushed him on his way home from a crusade.
The Lord was much an agreeable person as the Lady was not. Often, he would casually carry on a conversation with the hired help. The Lady, however, drifted by as if she couldn�t see them, but expected them to answer her every whim.
Davey sighed. If he hadn�t already proven his worth in the kitchen, no doubt the Lady would find some excuse to have him fired. Tonight, Davey never thought a few grains of salt would be detected. Maybe the Lady�s tongue WAS delicate!
Davey snickered into his hand so it wouldn�t carry into the next room.
�Why do you laugh?� a quiet voice asked. Davey looked up and saw the Lord of the castle entering by the servant�s door. He carried his bag in his left shoulder and a jeweled box over his right, for the Lady, no doubt. His clothes were travel worn and flakes of dried mud fell from his boots as he stepped over to Davey�s work counter.
He smiled but Davey noticed the troubled look to his eyes. �Nothing,� Davey said, �nothing, my Lord. Just that I fear I shall soon lose my job.�
Now the Lord grinned. �What now?�
Davey glanced at the bowl of salt. �Any day now, my Lord, any day.�
He chuckled. �Don�t count on it. Davey, you�re not going anywhere if I can help it, and I can.� He laughed again and made his way to join his Lady.
Davey began cleaning and clearing his kitchen. Normally, he would have turned on his music box, but tonight he didn�t want to give the Lady an excuse to complain. On instinct, Davey brought out a small pot and dumped the container of soup into it. He also threw in a few vegetables he had held back for the Lady�s �tastes�. He almost didn�t realize why he was re-heating it.
He remembered ten minutes later when the Lord trampled back in carrying the Lady�s tray like a servant. Davey took it quickly, as he always did, and put it in the sink full of soap bubbles. The Lord followed his nose to the bubbling pot on the stove.
�You don�t suppose. . .?� He asked Davey. He inhaled the aroma of the mixture with satisfaction.
�My Lord,� Davey spoke gently and smiled. He motioned his liege to sit on the stool at the counter. The Lord eagerly sat, helping himself to a roll from the basket.
�Mm!� He smiled as he bit into one, �you baked this morning!� as he scarfed it down, Davey took one of the larger bowls especially made by the Lord�s potter for the Lord�s appetite and set it in front of his Lord, filled to the brim with soup.�
As he ate ravenously, Davey took to moving about the kitchen, oblivious to the watchful eye of his Lord. Davey was young, but not terribly. By all standards of the land, he was over twenty and doomed to be a spinster. He had no mate and choose to not search for one. The Lord knew, by word of mouth from the other servants, that Davey had at one point a girl that chased after him. What was her name?
Brody. Yes, the Lord nodded to himself, her name was Brody. And hadn�t she been his Horse master�s daughter? What happened to her and Davey? Weren�t they the talk of the servants, sure that they would be the next to marry?
The Lord thought back, frowning as he ate more of his food, helped by the delicious rolls he took at a steady rate. Yes, he remembered now. Food always helped jog his memory. The young Brody proved to be a woman of little patience. Up and left poor Davey for a traveling knight. True, a knight received more glory than a mere cook, but Davey was without a doubt secure in his future. The Lord had replaced his personal cook for Davey. He was the best in the land. There were none better. Davey would remain his cook for the rest of his life, and the Lord was determined to have it that way.
He glanced up again, watching Davey move about the kitchen. He was a slender man, muscles tightly toned from moving about in this kitchen of his. He had dark, jet black raven hair that was getting almost too long to manage. To get it out of the way, he twisted into a bun at the back of his head and slid in two smooth sticks. But already the hair was coming undone. Black wisps of hair framed Davey�s face as he went about his job of cleaning and. . . The Lord frowned. What was Davey doing?
Davey had cleared a good deal of the counter off and had replaced it with several bowls of grift, the fruit the Lord�s lands were famous for, and began peeling them. The Lord couldn�t help but grin in excitement. That meant Davey was going to make his special pies. His were the best.
Now finished with his bowl, the Lord took to sopping up the last of the juices with a piece of roll. �Davey, you cook excellently.� He said, smiling as he saw the blush on Davey�s cheeks. �But one thing that troubles me is that I have yet to see you eat more than that small grift fruit at one sitting. Why?�
�My Lord,� Davey said, peeling and shedding the fruit skins onto the counter with a deft ease, �I cannot eat as much as a warrior, if I wish to keep up my speed in the kitchen. I really don�t recquire as much.�
The Lord shook his head. �No, not true. I�ve seen you work as hard as a smithy, in this here kitchen, yet you hardly ever eat the food you cook.�
�My Lord,� Davey said, straightening as he took slight offense to the remark, �I of course taste it before serving it. Any cook will do it. Never trust a cook who won�t taste his own creation.� he added the last to ease up on the tone. The last thing he wanted was to make his Lord think he did something wrong. Davey respected his liege. He knew he wasn�t the only one in the land to say that they loved their Lord.
�Bahh!� the Lord tossed the end bit of his bread into his empty bowl and grabbed another. �A taste! What is a taste? You must eat! Like this!� he demonstrated by ripping into the roll.
Davey smiled demurely. �My Lord, I could not.�
�Why?� he swallowed and grinned. �Go on! Try it! One big bite! Grift fruit is soft and easy to eat. Go on!� he teased.
Davey hefted the fruit he held in his left hand. What was one bite? If it pleased his Lord. . .
�Alright.� he said, �but the rest goes for the pie.�
�Oh, go on!� He assured Davey, �Armenia has GROVES of the stuff! Go on, Davey!�
He paused and shifted the fruit to an unpeeled section. He took a large bite, his teeth sinking into the juicy, soft membrane underneath the tart outer skin. The Lord watched him silently with glazed eyes.
As Davey chewed, he asked, �Soft?� he nodded. �Sweet?� again, Davey nodded. �Another bite then. If it�s both soft and sweet, you should have another bite.� he waited patiently for Davey to swallow, his smile gone but his eyes cast far away as he watched.
He bit again. This time he couldn�t quite tear the skin with his teeth and a little of the fruit dripped to his chin. Before he could wipe it away, however, the Lord reached over and swiped it up with thumb. Gently, he held the tiny piece to his mouth. Davey carefully took it with his lips, face burning in embarrassment. Why was his Lord doing this to him? Why did he have that strange expression to his face?
Davey moved his head slightly back, but the Lord�s hand followed. His thumb ran across his mouth as Davey chewed and swallowed, lingering on his thin lips.
�If it�s alright, My Lord,� Davey said in a whisper as his fingers trailed his jaw bone, �I�m not much hungry anymore.�
�Oh, but I am,� his Lord whispered back.
�Would you like me to cook, my Lord?� Davey asked, using it as an excuse to stand and move out of his reach. This had never happened before. Why was it happening now? What exactly WAS happening? What should he do?
�No, Davey,� He said and sighed. Once again he looked weary and tired. �No, no food. But see me to my chamber. I�m tired. I did a lot of traveling today.�
�Yes, my Lord.� Davey said, hurrying over to help him up. He had a butler to see him to his room but most nights Davey did it himself to save his Lord the trouble. He was in the kitchens with him most nights anyway, scarfing whatever meal Davey cooked up for him, or being the first one to taste the sweets Davey made the night before for the field workers� breakfast.
The Lord and the Lady kept separate rooms, as all the help knew, but no one outside the castle did, only sharing a bed when the Lady was scheduled to be fertile. She had not yet born him a son, or any child for that matter, and was several months away from having to allow the Lord the company of a concubine.
Not that one wasn�t already lined up. The Lady herself handpicked a beauty from an incoming of slaves. She had blond hair like Lady Armenia and was just as thin. Her name was of no consequence, if she had one, so long as she could bear children. That would be tested within the next season, if Lady Armenia didn�t take. Davey thought she wouldn�t. The Lady didn�t feel like the mothering type.
They reached his room and Davey sat the Lord on his bed in order to untie his heavy boots.
�My Lord,� Davey asked softly, �how on earth can you WALK in these heavy things?� he set one aside with a heavy CLUNK!
The Lord chuckled. �They�re a man�s shoes.� He watched as he struggled with the knots of the second. Just as he was beginning to solve the shoelace puzzle, Davey felt a rough, calloused hand move softly through his hair. It caught briefly on the tie, then the sticks fell to the floor, releasing the dark hair to cascade past Davey�s shoulders.
�My Lord,� He smiled softly, �you shan�t divert my attention from your shoes. They MUST come off if you are to bed.�
�I don�t wish to stop you, Davey,� he said, �but I MUST run my hands through that hair of yours. Beautiful black. Like soothing darkness.� his fingers trailed through, combing through the curls. Davey finally managed to take the last boot off.
�Come now,� Davey said, helping him out of his tunic, leaving his undershirt.
The Lord laughed and grabbed the ties to Davey�s shirt and began to pull. �Come now, Davey!�
He clutched the shirt just as it was about to open and pulled the ties out of his grasp. Davey turned away from him and began to re-tie. �My Lord, that is not funny. You�re tired and need rest. Now, to bed!� He heard him stand and walk over. He hugged Davey unexpectedly, his hands fitting into spaces in his shirt, past the lacings. Davey froze like a deer in the woods, caught unexpectedly by the scent of a hunter.
�Davey,� he said in his ear as his hands played, �Davey, Davey, Davey! So innocent! You�re like the grift, soft and sweet.� he emphasized the soft part by snaking a hand to Davey�s rear and giving a gentle squeeze. The sweet part was a kiss to his neck. �Tell me, lovely Davey, you don�t have a mate, do you?�
Davey felt the memories come back to him. Mate? No, Brody was never his mate. He hadn�t even tried, had he? Too busy with the kitchens. Too worried about burning bread, a roast, or a pie to give even ten minutes of his time to the only woman who had given him more than a slight glance. He drove her off, Davey knew, and he hadn�t so much as looked at anyone else since.
He focused back on the present as he felt his Lord starting to suck on his neck while his hands went. . . elsewhere. Davey swallowed hard, his adam�s apple moving up and down. �My Lord knows I do not.�
The Lord paused for a second, just a slight second, before going back to rubbing Davey�s stomach. His breath was hot and moist on Davey�s neck where his attentions had been. �Yes, I know,� The Lord and master of the castle agreed. �But I wanted you to say it, Davey. Davey. Davey.� He murmured the name over and over, rubbing and massaging first Davey�s stomach and chest, then his arms, neck and buttocks. Whatever his hands could reach, he made sure to touch more than just briefly.
�I�m lonely,� his Lord whispered, now at his other ear, �I�ve spent too long in this chamber with none but my own wife to visit me, reluctantly, once every month. Sometimes, I wish I hadn�t chosen a wife so quickly. But the lands needed to join, and marriage to Armenia was the only thing that would do it.� he let out a rumbling groan, drawing Davey back even further into his embrace. �Had I known you existed, Davey, I would not have married so eagerly.� He rubbed against Davey slowly, gently.
Davey sucked in breath. What was this? Why was his Lord behaving in such a way to him? Involuntarily, his eyes slipped closed. No one had ever treated him like this. No one has ever touched him in such an intimate way. His body began to react, he realized with embarrassment. He peered down and saw that his pants bulged slightly. The cause? None other than the Lord�s hands taking turns running up and down his inner thighs.
Davey was not stupid. Far from it, he was quite intelligent. He needed to be quick witted in order to serve the Lord and Lady of his land, and oversee the refreshments for the occasional seasonal ball. Davey knew the troubles of getting involved with royalty or anyone with status. He�d heard many tales about the silly farm girls pretty enough to catch a passing nobleman�s eye, then stupid enough to allow them to take their innocence. The nobles never married these girls, or even kept them as concubines, as most of them hoped for, but tossed them back to their farm, tainted and spoiled before they could marry properly.
But Davey was not a girl. He was a man. . . who was receiving the sort of attention from another man that a girl would. So. . . that made it about the same, didn�t it?
He felt his Lord�s own arousal begin poking through their clothes, eager to get to Davey�s rounded, muscular backside. He knew he shouldn�t get involved with his employers, he KNEW it. But. . . this was his Lord. He belonged to him like a slave. He had a duty to serve his Lord, allow him to do as he pleased. And if it pleased the Lord to grope Davey? And if it pleased him to put something where it shouldn�t go? What choice did he have? This, or death. Or worse; banishment from the kingdom in disgrace. He couldn�t have that. He would rather die than to be disgraced.
But wouldn�t laying with the Lord be a disgrace, also? A little voice in the back of his mind whispered. Never mind, just for this second, that he was not a Lord, but simply a man. A man who wanted to bed Davey. Was that right? Was it. . . respectful?
Davey cast his mind back to when the two knight�s pages, Smith and Fritch, gave him company in the kitchen late one night. They had somehow brought up the subject of Davey�s abstinence from the game of servant girl-courting the other two were prominent leaders in.
�And you don�t find it odd,� Smith had continued to interrogate Davey, frown furrowing his anorexic face, �not one BIT odd, that you have no desire to find a woman and lay with her?�
Davey had rolled his eyes and continued kneading the dough he was trying to make into bread. �I told you already, I have no time for marriage just yet. I must see to our Lord and Lady�s plates before I can do anything about that.�
Fritch leaned forward, eyes steady as Smith�s. �He didn�t say marriage, Davey. He said �lay� with a woman. That Amy Lee, that one who does the royal stitching, has been looking for a man to have a good time with. I hear she isn�t so picky as the other gals. How about it, Davey? Sound interesting?�
They both regarded him with interest. Smith saw Davey�s hesitation and added, �Man, she is wanton! You only have to show her to your bed and she gladly opens her legs! Why, as a matter of fact, she was just asking about you the other day, wasn�t she Fritch?�
�Of course,� Fritch nodded. Davey turned his dark eyes from Smith to Fritch.
�About me?� He asked quietly. �Why?�
�Why else, you wool-brained girly servant!� Smith�s tone was exasperated beyond belief. �She�s taken a fancy for you! And you don�t even have to try! She likes you already! Said so herself! Now, come on! You going to let a fine piece of meat like Amy Lee to get away, or are you going to be a man and take her like she wants to be taken?�
Davey said nothing. He put the dough in separate pans, not even bothering to give their discussion a single thought. After a few minutes, Smith and Fritch looked at each other, expression knowing. �Maybe he�s right.� Smith said, turning to look at Davey, �Maybe Nim was right. Maybe Davey would prefer the company of other men.�
Davey�s head snapped up at the mention of the head of security, Sir Nim. �Nim? What? What does that mean?�
Fritch glared. �It means you�d rather lay with a man than a woman. Means you�re not a man at all, but a woman wearing man clothes.� He took a few steps back from the counter, obviously making distance between them. Smith wore an equal expression.
�That it, Davey? You like the company of men?� he sneered cruelly and spit on the counter before he and Fritch made their way out, never to come back.
That was not my fault, Davey told himself as he felt his Lord�s hands turning him to face him. That was NOT my fault. They didn�t expect me to answer, did they? Did they honestly? To a lurid question like that?
Davey�s breath caught in the back of his throat as he looked into the deep, focused and steady eyes of his Lord. He knew, then that he could not resist, not even if this wasn�t his Lord and he wasn�t the servant.
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He looked on Davey with lustful eagerness. Finally! He was about to finally have this delicious morsel all to himself. He�d had a fancy to Davey ever since the first day the young man had joined the kitchen staff at the age of seventeen. His hair hadn�t been this long, really, just long enough so that he nervously tucked it behind his ears ever so often. The Lady had been annoyed by this habit of Davey�s but could say nothing, especially when the Lord had a chance to taste the food Davey had whipped up on the spot as a trial basis. Out of the dozens of aspiring chef�s, Davey�s food was the only that not only made the Lord�s mouth water, but his belly full.
And ever since then, he�d wanted Davey, badly. There was just no denying it, the dark-eyed young man had drawn his attention again and again, silently asking, no, BEGGING the Lord to bed him. But the thing was, Davey didn�t know he wanted this. He didn�t know he wanted the Lord to take him and show him the glories of pleasure. He was too innocent to know. And that�s what drove the Lord mad with lust.
He turned Davey and stared deep into those dark, knowing yet still innocently ignorant eyes. The thin lips held closed in habit from years of silencing his tongue in the presence of the Lord and Lady. His jaw was strong, but his flesh was soft and somewhat delicate. Davey�s body was fit and flexible, making the Lord think of just exactly HOW flexible he could be.
�Davey,� He whispered, watching as the cook�s eyes traveled out of habit not to the Lord�s eyes but to his mouth. Servants never looked their master in the eyes. It was taboo. �Davey, how would you like to spend the night with me? Keep me company?�
Now Davey�s eyes looked up in shock. Spend the night? Keep his Lord company? Could he say no? �If that is what my Lord wishes.� Davey said finally, after realizing he�d been silent for too long.
The Lord grinned widely, like a boy with candy. �Yes, I DO wish it. And. . . would you. . . lay with me?�
Davey swallowed nervously. �My Lord, I have not. . . I mean to say. . . I�ve never. . . with. . .�
�Shh, shh,� The Lord put his hands to either side of Davey�s face and massaged gently. �Don�t worry. Soldiers and knights do it all the time out on the battle fields. How do you think wars can last for so many years? The men bed each other because there are no women-folk about. And sometimes, even at home, a master can ask a favor or two from his men, especially when his wife doesn�t put out often enough. Don�t you agree? A man has to be satisfied, especially when he has a land full of people to look over. I shouldn�t have to suffer, do I? Do I, Davey?�
Davey looked about pleadingly, then finally met his Lord�s eyes. �N-no, no you. . . y-you shouldn�t.�
�Trust me, Davey, you�ll like this.� The Lord then began kissing him heatedly, his strong hands holding Davey still so he couldn�t try to pull back. Their tongues met and slid over each other, their taste buds caressing and scraping. Davey somehow managed to lick most of the Lord�s molars, knowing that the his Lord already managed to feel every crevice on his own mouth. Rough, strong hands roamed over his body and managed to slip under the hem of his pants, stroking the thin, soft trail of hair leading to his privates. His arousal was now at full force and Davey knew there was no other way to get rid of it now.
The Lord somehow managed to untie Davey�s shirt while not stopping his stroking and now the shirt hung askew. He took this time to break the kiss and allow Davey to gasp for air. He saw the shirt and excitedly yanked it open and pushed down, pinning Davey�s arms to his sides. �Gorgeous,� He whispered, before leaning over to apply his mouth to flesh.
Davey�s chest heaved and his eyes rolled back. As wrong as this might be, he couldn�t help the feelings coursing through him, the excitement of another�s touch. He hadn�t felt that for so long. . . he almost didn�t know what to do when the Lord�s hand pushed itself lower into his pants. He gasped and arched his back. �M-my Lord!�
He chuckled, face pressed against Davey�s skin. �Hunter. Call me Hunter.�
Davey gulped. �Y-yes my Lord Hunter!� Lord Hunter chuckled again, shifting to get a better feel of Davey, both oblivious to the figure glinted evilly at the open door.
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End Part One