A game of chance

A Game of Chance

By Kate Roman

Sebastian, the young Duke of Avon, moved carefully through the press of chattering party-goers. His black silk mask was skillfully tied, his wig carefully arranged to hide all clues to his identity. The fashionably high red heels to his shoes disguised his height and the cape he wore served well to hide his build. No one at the masquerade would know him. He could be any man of the Upper Ten Thousand.

At least until the midnight unmasking.

Sebastian deftly avoided a flirtatious, forward young girl in a pale pink taffeta gown and matching mask. She was obviously a debutante, using the privilege of anonymity to throw off the demure behavior expected of her. Sebastian smiled wryly as he headed for the small entrance at the rear of the ballroom. He knew exactly how she felt.

The door he sought was a discreetly curtained servants’ entrance, set behind an ornate screen. Sebastian paused and drew out his snuff-box. He took a pinch as he carefully scanned the crowd. The dowagers were seated facing the dancers and the musicians were busy with their instruments. No one was looking his way.

Satisfied, Sebastian slipped behind the screen and through the curtained doorway.

The passageway he entered was dim, lit only by a wall-sconce at each end. He paused, looking this way and that, wondering which way to go. The conversation he’d overheard had mentioned only the door from the ballroom.

There had been talk of deep play and the forbidden game -- whether dice or cards, he had no idea, but either would do. He listened carefully, but heard no sound save the music and laughter from the ballroom. That meant it must be cards: he would hear the rattle of the dice box. Cautiously, he started down the hallway toward the far end.

“I feared tonight I was the only player.” A deep voice, smooth and thick as velvet sounded in his ear. Before Sebastian could turn, strong hands closed on his shoulders and pulled him back against the heat of a man’s body.

Sebastian gasped with shock, struggling. “I beg your pardon--”

“This way.” There was a rustle of heavy fabric and Sebastian realized he had been pulled into an alcove off the passageway, hidden by a thick black curtain. A single candle burned in a sconce on the wall, illuminating a wooden bench and a tiny carved table. On the table stood a decanter and two glasses, and a small unlabeled bottle. There was neither a dice box nor a pack of cards in sight.

Drawing a deep breath, Sebastian turned and finally got a good look at his captor. The man was tall and broad-shouldered and his features, like Sebastian’s, were hidden by a black mask. Beneath the mask, he wore a satisfied smile. “Let the games begin,” he growled, tightening his grip on Sebastian’s shoulders.

Sebastian was opening his mouth to ask questions -- what games, what were the stakes, were they the only players -- when he was jerked hard against the stranger’s body, held fast by one strong arm across his back. He looked up, shocked, and met the stranger’s eyes, glittering black and predatory through the mask. An instant later, the stranger’s mouth was on his, rough and crushing, tongue forcing an entrance.

Sebastian struggled weakly, but he was held fast and every movement seemed to inflame his captor. He fell still, frightened, as the man’s tongue explored his mouth, lewd and uninvited. He was at the mercy of this stranger and his game. The thought should have been terrifying, but instead, Sebastian felt a rush of excitement up his spine, a thrill stronger than anything he’d ever felt at the gaming table. His knees started to tremble as heat flooded his groin and he swallowed a groan.

Sebastian caught his breath as his cloak was pulled from his shoulders and he was turned around and pushed face first against the wall. He knew he should protest, explain that there had been a misunderstanding, but his voice would not obey him, and as the stranger’s arm closed possessively across his chest, the rush of desire was nearly overwhelming.

Whatever this game was, whatever the stakes, Sebastian was going to play it out.

His nerve nearly failed him as the stranger fumbled with his waistband and tugged his breeches down, baring his ass. He whimpered, half fear, half desire, and was rewarded with a low chuckle.

“Impatient. I like that.” The stranger’s hand slid across Sebastian’s hip, warm and rough on his bare skin. Sebastian bit back a groan, pressing into the touch, and the stranger slowly reached lower, until his fingers were exploring the edge of Sebastian’s pubic hair.

Sebastian thought he might explode. His cock pulsed with need, his balls throbbed full and tight, and his breath came in ragged and uneven gasps. He wanted to beg, to demand, but he couldn’t find his voice. All he could do was buck erratically against the teasing, stroking hand.

At last the caressing fingers were on his cock, light at first, stroking so lightly Sebastian wondered if he was imagining it. And then at last the hand engulfed him, firm and strong, shaping his length, molding his pleasure. Sebastian laid his hands flat against the wall, leaned into the strength of the arm across his chest, and gave himself over to the stranger’s will.

In moments strong feelings were upon him, building inside him. He filled his lungs to cry out and was suddenly pressed against the wall. The arm across his chest was gone and in its place, a hand covered his mouth, firm and final. Sebastian gasped against its restraint, then groaned as the stranger pressed hard against his ass, driving him forward into the compelling, stroking hand.

A tide of pleasure rose in him, an unstoppable wave that ripped his senses apart. His knees gave out, and dimly he knew strong arms about his chest, holding him up, the comfort and heat of the man at his back, supporting him. He tried to breathe deep, to focus, to think, but all that came to him was the warm thrill of pleasure through his veins, and the magic, compelling heat of the man who held him.

“Are you ready to play?”

Sebastian blinked, awareness returning in full as the deep velvet voice brought his senses back to life. “Play?” he asked thickly. “What are the stakes?”

The stranger chuckled. “I like you, my friend. I like you very much.” He pushed and Sebastian stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall.

“Very nice,” the stranger observed, his voice dropping lower. He placed a hand in the center of Sebastian’s back. Sebastian gasped, then stumbled as his legs were pushed apart by a well-placed knee.

He made to struggle, but his knee-breeches held him prisoner and the hand on his back made it impossible to straighten up. “Please,” he gasped again, frightened.

“New to the game? Don’t fear.” His captor leaned close, voice soft in Sebastian’s ear. “You know you want this: it’s why you came. Don’t throw in your hand or you’ll regret it.”

Sebastian shuddered, but something in the smooth, deep voice was oddly reassuring. He gave in and submitted to the pressure of the hand on his back. “That’s better,” the stranger whispered, and nipped his ear.

Another jolt of pleasure fired through Sebastian, reigniting the ache in his loins. The stranger chuckled, then pressed two fingers against Sebastian’s lips imperiously. Sebastian opened his mouth and closed his eyes, surprised and a little unsure as the fingers slid between his lips.

Sebastian could taste his own cream on the thick fingers, and with it the smell of his own musk. His body responded unbidden and as the ache inside him intensified, he sucked at the stranger’s fingers, finding their movement inside his mouth strangely comforting. It felt so good that he barely noticed the first cool touch of liquid between his cheeks.

Then it came again, a strange sensation that started goosebumps up Sebastian’s back. He jerked away, suddenly realizing he was no longer held captive by the hand on his back. “Don’t move.” The voice was both reassuring and commanding, and Sebastian found himself obeying, dropping his head and suckling on the fingers even as he felt another touch, cold and slick, at his virgin entrance. He moaned.

He couldn’t deny what was happening now. The stranger probed him, pressing at the flesh until his sphincter opened, then teasing the flesh inside. Sebastian had never been so afraid -- and had never wanted anything more deeply. The stranger’s actions had set his whole passage throbbing, awakening a need Sebastian had never known before and now could not imagine denying.

With every touch, Sebastian was more deeply explored, and he sucked desperately, gratefully, on the fingers in his mouth, finding in them some slight relief of the ache inside him. He groaned thickly and thrust backward, starting to ride the stranger’s questing, probing finger.

He heard his captor’s hiss of satisfaction and the next thrust went home, sliding deep inside him, sparking nodes of pleasure as it went. Sebastian felt the press of knuckles between his cheeks and then the ache inside of him exploded.

Sebastian tried to shout, but succeeded only in a strangled, wordless cry. He bit down, and the stranger gave a breathless laugh. “There you are. That’s what you came for.”

Sebastian whimpered, trembling, and the fingers slid from his mouth. They caressed his lips briefly and then a strong arm was back around his chest, holding him firmly. “Hush, now. Take your turn at the game.”

Collapsing, Sebastian managed a sound of assent.

Slowly the finger slid out, leaving him empty. Sebastian whined at the loss, but moments later cool, slick liquid touched his flesh again. “Lubrication,” the stranger breathed. “It makes the play more pleasurable.”

Fingers returned to his ass, sliding in the cool liquid. One pressed at his rim, then slid inside until Sebastian felt the coils of pleasure starting in his gut, and then it was withdrawn. Before he had time to react, the pressure was back, more this time: two fingers pressing at his entrance, stretching him.

It hurt a little, and Sebastian squirmed against the pressure, tensing. But the arm around his chest held him fast, and his hole adjusted to the intrusion, his resistance swept away by a wave of pleasure stronger than anything that had come before. Sebastian shuddered, collapsing against the wall, sobbing his need as the stranger worked his hole, thrusting in and out.

“You are ready now.” The velvet of the voice was gone, replaced by a deep growl.

Sebastian shuddered, leaning hard against the wall as the stranger shifted his grip. Something large and thick pressed against Sebastian’s rim, demanding access. He was to be taken.

There was pain, exploding inside him like a ball of fire, but each flame set off its own explosion of pleasure until Sebastian thought he must scream, must shout. Then the stranger began moving inside him, thrusting with short, slow strokes and the pain fell away, leaving Sebastian riding a wave of pleasure.

Breath hot on the back of Sebastian’s neck, the stranger reached forward and took hold of Sebastian’s cock, working him unmercifully. Sebastian panted desperately as his pleasure intensified, and he rode the cock that filled him so entirely.

He couldn’t hold out and the last of his control ebbed away just as the stranger swelled inside him, giving voice to a deep groan.

The stranger staggered back, his cock slipping free from Sebastian’s body, and Sebastian collapsed against the wall. His ass burned, but the ache inside him was sated, filled up in a way he couldn’t name.

Half-turning, Sebastian looked at the stranger, who had dropped to the wooden bench. His pants were pushed down, and a thick cock gleamed wetly in the candlelight, a fat pearly drop at its head. Sebastian licked his lips, and forced himself to look up.

The stranger’s eyes shone behind his mask, and his full lips curved with the beginnings of a smile. “I trust,” he panted, “that the play was to your satisfaction.”

Sebastian stared for a moment, still leaning heavily against the wall.

The situation was preposterous, but the feeling inside him was more satisfying than any win at the tables. He managed a nod, then turned away. Standing up with an effort, he restored his breeches to his hips, and retrieved his cape from the floor.

“I meant what I said, you know.” The velvet of the stranger’s voice sent another frisson up Sebastian’s spine. The man had restored his own clothing, and sat composed on the bench. As Sebastian watched, he lifted the decanter and poured amber liquid into the two cut-glass tumblers. He held one out invitingly.

With a trembling hand, Sebastian took it.

The stranger raised his own glass and smiled. “I like you,” he said, by way of explanation. “I hope that Fate decrees we play again.”

Sebastian tossed his own glass off at a gulp. The malt whiskey burned on its way down and Sebastian welcomed the shock. He set his glass down, and giving the stranger the barest of nods, swept out of the alcove and back to the ballroom.

As he emerged from behind the screen, the musicians struck up a familiar tempo, and the buzz of conversation died down. Scattered applause came from around the room, and the Countess de Haviland ascended the steps to the dais. “It is time for the unmasking!” she proclaimed.

Sebastian looked around him wildly. There was no escape save for the passage he had just exited, and that was the last place he wanted to go. Fortunately, the stranger did not seem to have followed him out, and Sebastian could only hope that he would not.