Forbidden Love

All characters are 18+

You can all blame RA3BURN for unleashing this literary beast. I wanted to try my hand at some period style erotica, and evidently manifested my inner Dickens instead. This won't be for everyone, but I can certainly see it in a school test some day... Or maybe not. 

The dark, weaving alleys through the city resembled veins, each one as important as the other, pumping life into the dismal, ancient world that was Victorian London. From the sky fell a sombre rain, like teardrops in the night, which pattered rhythmically against the old cobblestone, worn by times countless footsteps.

A young man stood beneath a flickering gaslight and from under the brim of his weathered cap, one could not deny his beauty. His cheeks flushed with the rosy hue of youth, yet his deep eyes possessed the hint of wisdom beyond his years. And why would such a man not be wise? He had seen and done things that no boy of nineteen should, but those were secrets that he would take to his grave.

Across the slickened street, another stood, older perhaps, though certainly less experienced. He gripped the edges of his overcoat and tightened them around his chest. It was a cold night, and each breath he took billowed a cool cloud into the frigid air.

The two were not strangers. They had met once before under the cover of the darkness that engulfed the city now, but both of them knew only too well that their activities were forbidden in the light of day.

In him, unlike the younger boy, his beauty was not etched across his face, but rather in his heart. He was a kind soul, caring for his siblings since his mother’s death, but tonight he wanted not to be kind, but to be feral.

His name was Francis, and for twenty two years he had lived above the place in which he now stood. The other boy’s name was not known to him, nor did he want it to be. Should the two meet in company, Francis wanted no conversation, no recognition and certainly no friendship. The boys weren’t friends.

His senses were alive with the aroma of dampened earth dancing through the air, the laughter of indoor revellers from the cities many taverns, and the creaking of a carriage traversing the damp streets in the distance. The most obvious of these senses however, resided not in his eyes or ears, but in his drawers.

Francis inhaled the chill and stepped out from under the canopy. The boy across the street turned on his heel, the squelching sound of his worn shoes echoing in his stride as he was swallowed by the darkness of the narrow lane.

The rain became heavier, sounding like a crackling fire as it swept across the slate roofs above. It’s song was a melancholic symphony which serenaded Francis’ journey to sin. And sin it was.

The bright moon struggled to break free from the thick cloud that engulfed the city. It cast dulled light onto the two boys as they finally stood face to face. From here, Francis could truly appreciate the beauty of the boy. Beneath his tattered cap, the hint of a windswept cascade of blond hair was just about visible. His sharp jaw was softened by the hint of a dimpled smile, but something told Francis that the boy seldom smiled.

They stood staring at each other. Their eyes told silent stories of their lives, one of struggle and pain, and the other of loss and despair. Despite what each one thought, the boys were more alike than either would ever know.

Francis leaned forward, allowing the chorus of the night to fade into the distance. The other boy mimicked, and the wet, grimy walls that surrounded them bore witness to a moment that transcended the societal norms that fought so hard to keep them apart.

Their lips brushed together hesitantly, as though one of them was afraid of what might happen should they continue. It was Francis that was afraid, for the other boy had been here many times before.

The boy tasted of the rain that covered his pretty face. His breath seemed to hang in the air, fresh and inviting, and Francis could no longer contain himself.

It was a kiss born of aching love. It was fiery and passionate, burning stronger than any gas lamp ever could. It poured chills through his young body, and the sound only added to the explosion of lust that coursed through his veins with each stroke of his tongue.

The boy moved his hand, rubbing the tender cheek of the older one and weaving his fingers through Francis’ long, black hair. Their heads swerved smoothly as though they instinctively knew what to do.

The universe stood still, as though it had granted them this precious moment of intimacy, and even the younger boy couldn’t deny the rush inside him as the pair embraced.

Francis’ fingers tugged at the buttons of the boy’s cotton shirt. It was wet, whether from rain or fresh sweat he was unsure, but the boy allowed his hands to wander, until his bare chest became exposed.

Their kiss trailed off, for there were more pressing matters to attend to. He didn’t know what to do next, their previous encounter had been fleeting and afforded him only a sweet kiss on the lips, but the boy knew.

He gathered the stiff fabric of his breeches, tearing at the buttons with excited panic until the buttons began to surrender their hold and the white cotton of his underpants peeked out from underneath.

It was a simple act, yet it was entirely taboo to undress beneath the sky in the presence of another man. The danger of it excited both, and that excitement was evident in the boy’s underwear.

Francis could not hold back his ferocious longing. His eyes caressed the nudity of his young companion, taking in every sweet dip and sensual curve that the dim light afforded him. His hungry mouth returned to the boy, showering his neck in warm kisses as his hands slid beneath the cosy fabric that covered his modesty.

His own member ached, for it had never known excitement quite like this, but the tender flesh which filled the palms of both hands, took his mind to darker places.

It was a moment both mundane and profound. The simple act of touching another human being, it should have been a boring affair, yet it gifted them both with erotic pleasures that neither boy had ever known.

His buttocks tensed in the grip of the older boy, but Francis fought his strength and held it open. It was a gateway to the secret path of depravity that the boy intended to venture, and his finger pressed against the opening.

The boy’s breaths became shallower, sending wisps of visible air into the night as Francis explored this new terrain. It was as warm as the rest of him, but wrinkled like the crook of a fist. A slight sheen of moisture covered the intimate part, a lick of sweat no doubt brought on my the clamminess of the intoxicating event. He pushed it, feeling the elastic resistance from the pink ring, and decided that he would return to it another time.

The boy leaned back against the cold concrete. He clutched his cap in his hand, releasing his mane of golden hair and looking up into the blackness above as Francis lowered his drawers. He’d been naked out here before, but not like this.

With a graceful yet deliberate motion, the boy’s tool was released and his underpants fell into the seat of his breeches. His open shirt billowed in the cold breeze, leaving him exposed and open to the greedy eyes of the young man between his legs.

Francis knew not what was normal for a boy of his age, yet the member that stood before him was a fine specimen indeed. It’s head became more exposed as the sheath of protective skin slid slowly back of it’s own accord. It shone in the moonlight, almost twinkling from the rain and fluid produced by the excited boy. His shaft was long and smooth, tainted only by the bulging of several small veins which gave the member life. Hanging beneath the spectacular tool, a pouch of wrinkled skin holding two small globes, with not a hair or imperfection in sight.

The boy kept himself pristine, for in his line of work, nothing else would do. He felt the familiar sensation of hot breath against his flesh, but there was something about Francis that trumped the others. The warmth of the older boy’s mouth cloaked his glans, the flick of his tongue against the sensitive tip made his young body tighten, and he sighed a sharp, content breath into the night.

Francis freed himself from his garments as the sweet taste of the boy filled his mouth. It was the taste of a forbidden passion, and no other word could do it such justice. They had connected in the moment, a dark, sinful connection but a connection too profound to be extinguished by the judgement of an unforgiving era.

He let the wet pole slide further into his mouth and with each deep inhale, his lungs swam with the scent of the boy who remained pinned to the wall, mumbling nothings and squeezing the old cap in his hands.

Francis allowed himself to explore the boy more thoroughly, and whilst he pleasured him with his mouth, his soft hand crept up his smooth thigh until it reached the area beneath his front and back. His fingers pressed gently, making the boy’s breaths break away into small stutters of air, and then his nose brushed against his smooth groin and the boy began to tremble.

All the while, the older boy’s hand provided an intense pleasure to his own eager manhood. It tensed and eased with each wondrous stroke, feeding his palm a constant stream of viscous liquid, the very same as the one that was seeping into his tongue.

The taste of the boy’s precious and secret potion was both bitter and sweet. He provided it in great amounts, pouring and draining with every hungry mouthful that Francis took. Neither of them could get enough.

He removed the boy’s member from his mouth, inhaling the cold air and feeling the rain splash across his face as he leaned forward and smothered himself beneath the rigid virility of his new lover. His tongue lapped at the wrinkled sack, dragging it into his eager mouth and fondling both orbs between his lips. The boy had disregarded his cap and it lay withering in a pool of rainwater next to them as he clawed at his own naked chest, leaving faint red lines across the unblemished flesh.

Francis pleasured them both with his hands now, the soft sound of wetness joined the chorus of rain and the distant mumble of patrons, and the two half naked boys found a beautiful respite from the clamour of the cruel world.

The boy looked down with watery eyes. His body had never felt so alive, yet he had lived this scene a thousand times. They stared at each other, a silent understanding passed between them, and in that moment, both Francis and the boy knew that there was more to this than the coins which would pass hands at the end.

His naked thighs began to tremble at the approach of something fierce. For a moment, it frightened him. How many times had he done this before? How many times had his body been forced to endure the brutal pleasures of unwanted sex? Yet there was nothing brutal here. There was nothing unwanted here. He relinquished himself to the explosion of lust, and succumbed to it’s power.

Francis took him back into the warmth of his mouth, his lips puckered over the moist flesh and his hand clasped the base. He felt it expand and knew that it was time, and so he opened his throat and graciously accepted the gift that the boy gave him.

His mouth flooded, and at the same time, his own tool discharged across the cobblestones, spraying life into the wet crevices, as he replenished himself with another’s.

The two boy’s made sounds that neither had heard before, they were sounds of love, sounds of burning passions and excited adventures that they would traverse together. They were moans, and groans, whimpers and cries, and they continued as they emptied themselves completely.

The balloon of romance that had shrouded the two young men burst, and suddenly the rain seemed louder, the night seemed colder, and the boys seemed looser.

Francis got to his feet, the taste of the boy still lingering on his tongue and throat, and dragged his pants back up around his waist. The boy did the same, stowing his drooling manhood back into the comfort of his underpants, and tying the drawstring tight.

He pushed his hand into his pocket to find the three pence that was due for the explosive ordeal, but the boy reached out and stopped him.

Their eyes met once more, the boy smiled his dimpled smile, kissed him gently on the lips and slipped off into the dreary night leaving Francis alone and satisfied.