Never Forget The Importance of Style

2. Lessons in love

The four draught horses were weary from pulling the heavy coach for miles and miles across undulating countryside, but their steps got oddly springier again as soon as the first scents of the city reached their flared nostrils. The animals knew what those smells meant: grooming, water, fodder, rest, all of them things worth striving for. And strive they did, snorting to each other in encouragement.

For the people inside the coach, the increase in speed meant that their tribulations were about to come to an end soon. On the other hand, it also meant added swaying and discomfort, which was only aggravated by the fact that not everyone inside the passenger compartment endured the situation with equal calm. They all agreed that every bump on the road felt enormous, that the wheels rattled and springs creaked, but only one of the seven persons squeezed inside the coach considered it a necessity to loudly point out each of those facts every time they occurred.

The chestnut-dark middle-aged woman sitting on one side of the rear seat rolled her eyes, unsuccessfully trying not to listen to the young woman seated next to her. The young thing was currently clinging convulsively to her husband's arm and had hardly been silent for ten seconds at a time throughout the journey. Really, the lady thought pursing her mouth, if a woman "in her condition" was feeling too delicate to endure a day's journey on a coach - although her "condition" hadn't even progressed far enough to be readily visible - then she'd better either stay at home or insist on a private carriage! After bearing four children herself, the older lady considered herself qualified to dismiss at least nine tenths of the whining as mere attention-seeking, and wanted to shake her head. The obviously still rather fresh husband would probably have been attentive enough even without such behavior.

Tsk tsk, some people just were like that, the lady thought - didn't know how to behave themselves. She glanced once again at the slim youth sitting on the opposite side, and couldn't help smiling a little. Now there, there was a young man not many years younger than the obnoxiously loud young wife, but obviously with a wholly different upbringing. He had murmured a polite greeting to everyone upon climbing into the coach, accepted the usually loathed middle seat on the bench without comment, and then just ignored his fellow passengers, hooded eyes skimming the countryside visible through the side windows.

The woman looked at the youth, whose age she would've put around eighteen or nineteen. He was a nice example of slim masculine beauty, but the soft, sensitive mouth added a hint of something puppyish to his chiseled face that was defined by neatly trimmed sand-blond hair and a thin moustache. He wore a stylish, understated dark suit and a school tie, and as far as the lady had been able to observe, had no luggage with him. Just the briefcase he'd tucked under his seat. From the private school in Orneal, their previous stop, and on his way to Feran, the lady deduced. And obviously wealthy enough to have a sufficient wardrobe both at home and in the school, so that there was no need to haul luggage along for a weekend at home.

Satisfied with the results of her scrutiny, the dark-haired lady shifted a little in an effort to find at least a marginally more comfortable position for the rest of the journey. Honestly, people such as the young woman next to her were a pest, the lady decided, and their parents should be soundly spanked for their sloppiness. One could usually see it early enough if children were about to turn out that way, and then one could still do something about it.

Then, of course, there were those children that were practically little angels all their lives. Such as the daughter of her second cousin, bless the girl. Or that absolutely charming little boy she had seen, back in... oh, that must've been at least ten years previously! But she remembered him so well, such a perfect little gentleman, traveling with his mother. The mother and son had stayed in the same boarding house as she had, in Miann where she'd gone to take sea baths with some friends, oh yes, the lady remembered it perfectly. The mother had been beautiful but somehow a little flimsy, and she'd been so proud of that adorable blond boy who acted more adult and reasonable than his mother for most of the time! Of course there had been the other people, saying meaningfully that the mother wasn't married to the man with whom she went about, and even wondering if she'd ever been married in the first place -

The lady's solitary reminiscences were interrupted by a loud squeal, naturally from the young woman next to her, prompted by a wheel that slipped into a rut and made the coach sway. She huffed and tried to close her ears - after all, they weren't far away from Feran any more. Thank goodness for that.

The well-dressed young man spied from the corner of his eye that the round-faced lady had stopped staring at him, and sighed inaudibly. He had a faint feeling that there was something familiar about the woman, but his brain refused to come up with any clues, and so he pushed the matter aside. She wasn't anybody in particular, or he would've recognized her. Of that he was sure. But now they were just fellow passengers, and in perhaps half an hour they wouldn't be even that any more. The young man half-closed his eyes and concentrated on ignoring his surroundings, and quite especially one shrill-voiced female whom he thanked for the sharp stings of a headache that had now plagued him for the past hour.

Indeed, in less than three quarters of an hour later the coach stopped in front of the city's biggest inn, and its passengers emerged from its cramped, sweaty confines into fresh late afternoon air. Wind from the sea was sweeping along the streets, and everyone took a deep breath of relief as they set a foot outside. But while the other travelers remained hovering around the coach, waiting for their luggage to be unpacked, the tall, slim young man simply straightened his travel-creased clothes, unbuttoned his jacket and sauntered off, briefcase under one arm.

He had a good three-mile walk ahead but didn't mind the exercise, especially as he could feel the headache rapidly dissolving in the fresh breeze. Usually he'd travel in the less popular later coach that only arrived late in the evening, but now he'd decided to brave the daytime connection. Their teacher for the last lessons of Friday had been taken ill, and he'd even managed to negotiate with his literature tutor, exchanging his presence on that Friday's lessons for a two-page essay. Which, considering that it gave him several hours more time to spend at home, was definitely a worthwhile bargain.

The youth walked along cobbled streets to the old eastern gate of the city, and once outside the remains of the city wall, picked a broad path leading over some fields and pastures. He knew this route all right, well enough to know which fields he could cross without soiling his stylish shoes or incurring the wrath of some picky landowners or their inhospitable cattle. Thus it didn't take long before he reached a low hilltop and stopped to smile broadly.

The house nestling among large trees and well-kept bushes on top of the neighboring hillock wasn't enormous, but it sure was beautiful. In a simple, elegant style with just enough hints of Old Donjati to add a touch of ancient glory, it basked in the sunshine looking pleased with itself. The young man shrugged off his jacket and then continued briskly towards the house, enjoying the wind in his hair.

When he approached the front door, it opened and a smiling butler greeted him warmly.

"Young Master! My, we had no idea you'd be coming this early today!"

"It's all right." The youth sauntered in with a grin to the servant and threw his briefcase and jacket on a chair. "Is Nem at home?"

"Yes, Master is in the drawing room." The butler picked the discarded items from the chair. "He has a visitor, though."

"Oh, right."

The young man had already knocked and pushed the door open. Two steps into the room, however, he stopped abruptly as the sight registered properly.

Inside the spacey, light-bathed room furnished in an elegant style that well corresponded with the exterior of the house, were several pieces of furniture. One of these was a love seat covered with thick dove-blue silk. At the moment it was occupied by two men, both wearing impeccably tailored suits, both holding a glass of something pale yellow in one hand, and both ignoring their drinks in favor of a deep kiss.

Or rather, that was what they had been involved in, just a moment earlier. Now they both were looking in surprise at the youth standing at the door, and the younger one of the men was rapidly turning very red in face.

"I'm sorry for disturbing." The newcomer's gray eyes narrowed minutely. "Just wanted to say hello, Nem. And, umm, Halesch, I presume?"

"Yes," the blushing man said weakly and received a brief nod.

"Delighted... well, I'll be up in my room."

"Leone!" The older of the men stood fluidly up. "How delightful - but how are you here already? You should've written that you'd be coming early, I was prepared to come and pick you from town in the evening!"

"Oh, I didn't know myself until yesterday." The youth shook his head as the man raised his glass in question. "No thanks, I'll go have a bath."

He turned around and exited the room closing the door softly behind himself.

Inside his own bedroom he shot a disgruntled glance at his mirror image and grimaced at it. Halesch indeed... He yanked his tie off and began to unbutton his vest and shirt, knowing that there'd be a bath waiting for him soon enough. But wait, where had the old butler put his briefcase... ah, right, beside the desk of course. Good, because it contained the specifications for the essay his teacher expected to see on Monday. Satisfied, the young man toed off his shoes and then froze as he heard the knock on the door.

"Leone?" Neméath's smooth voice was muffled by the door. "May I come in?"

"Sure," the youth ground out and turned to face the man who stepped in and looked at him inquisitively.

"Leone, what was that, just a moment ago?"

"What?" The young man's eyebrows arched challengingly. "Didn't I already apologize for walking in like that? I did knock, though."

"Leone..." The man shook his head with a small smile. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. You've known about me and Halesch, and you've said yourself that you have no problem with it. Do you now perhaps feel differently when you've actually met him?"

"I wouldn't call that much of a meeting... and besides, Nem, that's not the point!" Leone frowned. "If you think that you've now caught me being jealous, you're wrong."

"Then what?" The man smiled expectantly. Leone, sliding the shirt off, shot him a moody glance over one shoulder.

"It's bloody two weeks since I was here last," the young man grumbled. "You've got no idea how much I've been looking forward to getting here. And then I find you here pawing your other lover, when I've been dying to see you again!"

"Isn't that then being jealous?" Neméath sounded amused.

"Not jealous, Nem!" Leone tossed his shirt onto a clothes rack, wrapped his arms around the man's waist and squeezed hard so that their bodies pressed together. "Horny. Do I have to spell it for you, what?"

"Not necessary, pup." The man kissed his neck. "I think I get the point."

"Good," Leone panted as his lover's expert hands roamed under the waistband of his well-cut trousers. "I hope you're going to do something about it, too? Or I promise I'll be very cross with you!"

"I'd never let you down," Neméath purred. "But there's just one thing... Halesch is still here."

Leone groaned.

"You returned earlier than we expected," the man pointed out, lips still ghosting along the side of the boy's neck. "By the way, surely that doesn't mean you've skipped lessons, my darling pup?"

"Oh no, you won't catch me there!" Leone squirmed in the man's possessive hold without really trying to get loose. "Our history teacher was taken ill, and I'll write an essay to make up for the literature lessons I missed. That's been prearranged."

"Good boy." Neméath pulled away and looked fondly at the handsome youth in front of him. Leone was such a gem, he thought, with plenty enough brains to match his exquisite physique. And how he enjoyed honing that gem, polishing it here and sharpening there, watching how it would reach its true brilliance in due time. "And how are the mathematical subjects going now?"

"Better." Leone turned to pull a bathrobe out of the tall closet. "I've struck a truce with the teacher. He won't sneer at me, I won't be insolent to him. So far it's working."

"That's good." One of Leone's teachers, the master of algebra and some other mathematical things, Neméath didn't remember which, had for some time been courting trouble with the boy. The hapless teacher had guessed enough of the relationship between the handsome junior student and his rich 'guardian', and had decided to openly show his disapproval of the situation. Of course this hadn't exactly endeared him to Leone, who could have a truly vicious way with words when he so wanted. Such pettiness, too, the man thought. Leone was already eighteen, not yet fully competent legally but still old enough to do great many things, such as get married, without the consent of his parents. Thus it was no business of his teachers whom he chose to sleep with. Well, a good thing that the matter had apparently been resolved satisfactorily.

Leone slipped out of the last pieces of clothing and folded them unhurriedly on the bed. He could feel Neméath's gaze skimming along his naked body and smothered a smile before turning to face the man again. Neméath smirked.

"All right, pup - I won't make you socialize with both of us tonight," he said and stepped closer to press a kiss on Leone's collarbone, one hand squeezing gently the youth's promising erection. "But I think we might all have lunch together tomorrow, or?"

"Why haven't I met him before?" Leone murmured and then bit his lip in frustration as the hand retreated again although he tried to press into it.

"Halesch has been feeling shy of you." Neméath looked into water-gray eyes and smiled at the incredulously curving eyebrows. To his amusement he realized that he actually had to tilt his head slightly back, even though Leone was barefoot. My gorgeous puppy, you've still grown some more... "No, really he has. And I was thinking that I'd suggest a meeting this weekend, but now he's awfully embarrassed after you caught us unawares today."

"Hadn't you better go and try to placate him, then?" Leone let out a deep sigh as Neméath's hands slid down to the small of his back. "Are you sure he hasn't slipped away by now?"

"He promised that he'd wait while I talk to you." Neméath reluctantly let go of the young man. "You're right, though. I bet he's getting more nervous by the moment."

"Just trot off then and tell him I'll be overjoyed to meet him tomorrow, if I get to keep you to myself tonight!" Leone took a step back and grabbed the bathrobe. "I'll go have a bath. I feel far too dusty and sweaty to be properly molested right now."

"Are you sure you wouldn't want us all in the same bed tonight, if you're so horny?" Nem barely resisted grinning and Leone mock-punched him lazily.

"Oh please - I'd prefer getting to know him outside a bed first! Besides, I'm getting the impression that it would take more than one evening to persuade him into it?"

"You're right," Neméath admitted. "All right, pup, relax now. We'll dine together, the two of us, when you're ready."

"Yes, daddy..."

Neméath smiled as he closed the door behind himself and turned towards the stairs. Halesch was probably ready to jump out of his skin by now...

Leone grinned to himself as he slipped into the bathroom and latched both doors. A hot bath was indeed waiting in the tub, and he slid into the water with a blissful hum. All right, so it had been hot and crowded in the coach, but hot water was exactly what he needed right now; hot water with a touch of his favorite spicily scented bathing oil in it. He took a sponge from a small rack and began to scrub himself with it, slowly and methodically.

Predictably, his thoughts ran away with him and before he quite realized, he was already pondering the scene he'd witnessed a moment earlier. Of course he'd known that Neméath had been steadily getting closer with Halesch, earlier just an occasional acquaintance. Nor had he been in the least surprised. Nem was a man not used to denying himself things, and with his sexual appetite, Leone would've been frankly astonished if the man hadn't had anyone while his young lover was away at school - sometimes for a week, sometimes two or even three weeks at a time.

He could also imagine that the two men would have lots in common, many things to draw them together. They were both from old families with long traditions, well-bred and well-educated, men of fine society. The main difference was that where Neméath's family had managed to amass a nice fortune over centuries, Halesch's family had somehow been getting progressively poorer. Before today, Leone had a few times wondered whether Nem's wealth might not have been at least part of his attraction for Halesch, just like it was an undeniable bonus for Leone himself. But after seeing the almost too refined features of the slim aristocrat, he was ready to dismiss such thoughts. Halesch was probably the ultimate romantic, Leone thought with a slight sneer, and most likely felt distinctly uncomfortable to know that a more malicious person might read such mercenary motives into his infatuation with the older man.

Leone frowned a little, trying to gauge his own feelings. Was he perhaps jealous after all? No, he decided; he wouldn't permit it to himself. He was comfortable with Nem, and oddly enough, he trusted the man. Neméath would be honest with him, and he wouldn't ever be just cast aside, whatever happened. Ever since coming across with the man some ten months ago, Leone had had no reason not to trust him, but plenty of reason to be grateful. For one thing, the renowned preparatory school that swallowed a considerable sum per term, had been entirely Nem's idea. And going there had meant the purchase of a whopping amount of new, suitably stylish clothes, shoes, accessories, gloves, hats... all paid for by Neméath.

So, if Nem said that Leone shouldn't be jealous, he wasn't going to be. Nem was spoiling him all right, but Leone didn't want to try how far the very liberal limits would stretch, and what would happen if and when he overstepped them. He was no fool. He had a rich, generous lover whom he found extremely attractive and with whom he had an thoroughly satisfying relationship. No, he wouldn't even briefly contemplate the possibility of being jealous to Nem's other lover.

Leone slipped completely underwater for a moment to rinse his short hair, then just lolled in the water and closed his eyes. He couldn't help thinking that Neméath might in fact also appreciate different company sometimes. Even though there was definitely nothing paternal about the way Nem treated him in bed, the man was over thirty years his senior, and Leone knew he was not just a lover but something of a son to the man. But Halesch, now, by Leone's estimate he was roughly thirty or so - a mature man, with a matching background and education. For Neméath he just might be a welcome change from the 'pup', no matter how clever and enticing said pup was.

Leone sighed and forced his body to relax in the water. So he'd decided not to be jealous; nor would he allow himself to feel threatened by Halesch. He'd just keep his head cool about this all, and things would work out just fine. Right now it was time to get out of the bathtub before the water cooled too much, dry himself and get dressed. In less than an hour, Nem would expect to see him at dinner, and after that he'd have time to demonstrate exactly how much he'd missed spending time with his handsome, exquisite, experienced lover.

Leone's lips pulled into an expectant smile.