Raffles fic: The Ides of April
I was tidying up my seldom-used laptop t'other day when I discovered this almost complete fic, with absolutely no recollection of having written it. In fact I read halfway through before I was finally convinced it wasn't someone else's fic that I'd saved. *headdesk*
Meanwhile, it's nearly Valentine's day, and it struck me I should do something to honour my eponymous hero, the man who is "my" Raffles. So I dusted off the fic and here it is. Happy Valentine's day, however you spend it.
Title: The Ides of April.
Author: constantmuse
Pairing: Raffles/Bunny
Adult.
Word count: 2100
Disclaimer: Raffles and Bunny are the creations of E.W. Hornung, and were reincarnated in the Yorkshire Television series, Raffles (1977).
For a month we had been, you might say, the thickest of thieves in all London, and yet our intimacy was curiously incomplete. Close as we had become in each other's confidences, I wanted nothing more than to be closer still.
That first night, when I had importuned Raffles in his rooms, I had been instantly and deeply attracted to him. The effect he had had on my adolescent senses in our schooldays was reawakened, and now burnt in a man's breast, and a man’s loins. When I said I would do anything for him, he had only to name the crime, I knew what I meant, and it certainly was not burglary. Now a month had passed, of joyful days and evenings in Raffles’ company, and of anguished nights alone. Lying awake in my bed, I could not but envisage Raffles - the press of his hands and his lips, his fingers raking my hair, his lean, athletic body straining against mine. Such fantasies had only one outcome. As my hand wrapped around my engorged cock, imagining it was Raffles holding me in his sure grip, within a very few strokes I would be writhing in a grim ecstasy. It was no use trying to resist temptation either, for my dreaming mind merely conjured the same tantalising images, with the same inconvenient results.
Raffles was always indulgent towards me, at times even tender. He sought my company constantly, favouring me in so many ways with secret smiles and discreet caresses, smoothing an unruly lock of hair from my brow, straightening my tie, patting my behind as we went up the stairs to his room. Surely he must feel some attraction for me, although I would not flatter myself to think he could share the intensity of my desire.
Very late one evening, in Raffles' rooms, and with sufficient dutch courage, I was able to raise the subject. In what words I clumsily stammered out my sentiments I cannot now recall, mercifully. But I will never forget the beautiful sadness of Raffles’ expression, as he took my face in his hands and looked into my eyes, as though searching there for how he should respond. Eventually he dropped his hands to his sides and turned to rest his forehead against the cool marble of the mantelpiece, while poking at the fire distractedly. It was a long while before he spoke.
“Ah, Bunny… Bunny, I won't, I can't, d’you see? I already bear responsibility for corrupting you by drawing you into a life of crime with me. How can I have it on my conscience to corrupt you all over again?”
“Corrupt? How?” The thought had not occurred to me. Far from corrupt, to me it seemed very natural for our intimacy, as it were, to be complete. “How could you corrupt me by … by giving me what I want from you?”
“You might say that now, in your cups, but what if you were to regret it in the cold light of day? What we might do here tonight could never be undone. The stain would be with you forever.” Raffles delivered this lecture without passion, as though reciting an instructional book. “You would consider yourself tainted. I dare say you would resolve you were unfit ever to marry, just for a start. Then it would be a descent into drink, opium…”
I made to protest again, but Raffles stayed me. Turning to face me, he sighed, and his expression softened.
“And besides, my dear Bunny, I have to say that it is that innocence about you that I love. I want you always to be as you are now, with your wide blue eyes, your ready, boyish smile, uncorrupted by the sins of the flesh.”
“But I am no longer the boy who fagged for you!” I exclaimed. “I am not thirteen years old, Raffles. I’ll grant you I am not terribly experienced in the ways of the world, but I have lived a little these past years.”
“But you are innocent … in that sense, aren't you?” Raffles queried, archly.
I knew what he meant, and yes, I was a virgin as far as any sort of sexual congress with our own sex went. I nodded mutely. Raffles looked as serious and severe as ever I saw him.
“Precisely. It is a crime, Bunny, of which we speak. Five years with hard labour if the beak’s feeling merciful, to say nothing of the complete dishonour. It would be another crime for which I would have you on my conscience, and that I do not want to countenance. Whenever I have indulged, I have made very careful not to involve another person whose standing or honour could be affected.”
“Those blond minions of Antonov?” I spat in my disgust. “His rent boys?”
Raffles coloured, his eyes were downcast. “Well, if you must put it like that. But there’s the rub, Bunny. In the shadowy world where I now eke out an existence, you have a special place.”
I was relieved that, when Raffles met my eyes again, his expression was warmer.
“Since you came along, you have been like a beacon of hope to me, a guiding light. Your beautiful, shining innocence was such a restorative. Being with you, I feel cleansed, a better man, more like the chap I was before ever I resorted to crime. Believe me, I do care for you, Bunny, but that temptation of which you speak is one I am determined to resist.”
That was it then. My pride wounded, I made a strategic withdrawal.
“In that case, Raffles, it would probably help if I took my leave and removed the source of further ‘temptation’ from your presence.”
In high dudgeon, I took my hat and coat and let myself out.
As the foggy night air wrapped around me, my mood swung between anger and exhilaration. How could Raffles be so arrogant as to want to keep me on ice, a perpetual boy, his Ganymede, just because it suited him and his unfathomable private code of honour? He took no account of my own needs and desires. But he had just as good as told me that he did return my feelings, had even spoken of love.
The next day, a chance meeting presented an opportunity to resolve the situation. I was looking in the window of a tailor’s shop, admiring the cut of the new season's jacket, when I was addressed in a heavily accented drawl. Sergei Antonov was someone I would normally cross the road to avoid, but it was too late, and, in any event, on this occasion seeing him planted the germ of an idea.
In our circle, it was well known that Antonov had a penchant for blond young men, and would procure them for his friends with complete discretion guaranteed. It was also well known that Antonov had his eye on me.
“My dear Bunny,” he drawled. My flesh crawled even as I shook his lilac-gloved hand. My pet name from Raffles’ lips always delighted me, but Antonov’s overfamiliarity was distasteful in the extreme. For all his dandified outfit, complete with silver-topped cane, Antonov smelt of garlic and his long black hair was greasy. For once, however, I restrained myself and forced myself to return his greeting with a pleasant countenance.
“And without your handsome … friend,” Antonov continued, the innuendo heavy in that last utterance. “How very unusual it is, these days, to find you on your own. Unusual, but how very, shall we say, auspicious?”
With a flourish, he consulted his gold fob watch.
“I see it is time for luncheon and I have a table at the Savoy. Would you do me the honour of joining me? Unless you are otherwise engaged?”
I took a deep breath and replied, “Thank you, Sergei, I would like that very much.”
Antonov positively purred as he took my arm and led off towards Piccadilly. Lunch, predictably, was of the liquid variety, with an apparently bottomless magnum of champagne to wash down the morsels of caviar. My companion became ever more familiar and unbearable. It was clear he hoped that I might go home with him that very afternoon, but I was drinking carefully, filling his glass and not mine. If I was not free today, Antonov asked, would I join a house party at his place in Sussex on Friday? It sounded like a rather intimate “party”, since he was unwilling to name any other guests. I said I would think about it, thanked him courteously for lunch, and went about my business.
I now settled down to bide my time with Raffles, whose manner towards me was unchanged after our anguished late night conversation. Evidently he wished to pretend it had never occurred. It was Thursday evening, as Raffles was dressing for dinner, when finally I put my plan into action.
“I'm playing at Lords on Saturday,” Raffles declared. “You'll come to watch, won't you, Bunny? We'll go for supper afterwards.”
“Oh, I'd love to, you know I always like to watch you play. But I've got something else on.”
I inspected my fingernails, hoping that last remark had the right tone of nonchalance. Raffles’ reply came back with a similarly careful sangfroid.
“Something else?” he asked, squinting at the mirror as he adjusted the bow on his necktie. “Whatever do you mean?”
“A house party in Sussex. I’m going down tomorrow evening.”
“Whose house party? Where?” Raffles did not conceal his irritation that I should be invited somewhere without him.
“Devereux Hall.”
“Isn’t that the place Antonov’s taken this year?” Raffles did sound concerned now. “But you despise the man, and he has unwholesome designs on you, Bunny, mark my words.”
“I know that perfectly well, Raffles, for all my innocence. I do not hold any great affection for Sergei, but he is offering me the thing that you withhold. I know he is discreet. And he has a certain… charm.”
“I do not quite understand your drift, my dear.” Raffles’ tone was becoming harsh.
“Do you want me to spell it out?” I continued hotly, angry that Raffles should make me. “Alright, Raffles, if you will not corrupt me, then I know someone who will. After I have been with Sergei, you will no longer be able to hold me on a pedestal, in this state of unblemished innocence you value so highly. I will be ‘tainted’. I will lose my innocence, to him.”
Raffles had been standing perfectly still, watching me, his grey eyes serious. He had every right to be angry with me for sneering, for twisting his words, or even disgusted that I should consider demeaning myself so. But, to my surprise, he broke into a broad grin.
“By Jove, Bunny!” he exclaimed. “You really have got some pluck, joined with a cunning that one can only admire.” He paused, regarding me with open admiration and a dazzling smile. “You are completely the chap for me. How could I ever turn you away? I see your game, now. If I do not oblige, tomorrow night you will let that brute have his way with you. I do believe you’d do it too, or at least you’d let me think you had. And in that moment, I would lose twice over. I would lose forever my fair, angelic talisman, and also the privilege of being your first, a loss that can never be restored. My Bunny, you have excelled yourself, and you have shown me up for a fool, to gamble with such high stakes.”
I grinned back foolishly. Even in these circumstances, praise from Raffles reduced me to witless incompetence.
Raffles took me in his arms, and I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling I owed him an explanation for my desperate ruse. I spoke in a rush into the black serge of his jacket.
“If I were to make love with you, and it won’t ever be with anyone but you, then surely it would not be the same as…that crime you spoke of. It’s not a question of shame, it’s an act of love. You might lose the pure and unsullied reflection of yourself that you fondly imagine me to be, but what we have together, what we are together, will be so much the greater…”
“Enough, enough,” Raffles chided. He lifted my chin and searched my flushed visage with a cool, penetrating gaze, until finally he seemed satisfied. Then, with the slightest inclination of his head, he sealed my lips with his own.
Meanwhile, it's nearly Valentine's day, and it struck me I should do something to honour my eponymous hero, the man who is "my" Raffles. So I dusted off the fic and here it is. Happy Valentine's day, however you spend it.
Title: The Ides of April.
Author: constantmuse
Pairing: Raffles/Bunny
Adult.
Word count: 2100
Disclaimer: Raffles and Bunny are the creations of E.W. Hornung, and were reincarnated in the Yorkshire Television series, Raffles (1977).
For a month we had been, you might say, the thickest of thieves in all London, and yet our intimacy was curiously incomplete. Close as we had become in each other's confidences, I wanted nothing more than to be closer still.
That first night, when I had importuned Raffles in his rooms, I had been instantly and deeply attracted to him. The effect he had had on my adolescent senses in our schooldays was reawakened, and now burnt in a man's breast, and a man’s loins. When I said I would do anything for him, he had only to name the crime, I knew what I meant, and it certainly was not burglary. Now a month had passed, of joyful days and evenings in Raffles’ company, and of anguished nights alone. Lying awake in my bed, I could not but envisage Raffles - the press of his hands and his lips, his fingers raking my hair, his lean, athletic body straining against mine. Such fantasies had only one outcome. As my hand wrapped around my engorged cock, imagining it was Raffles holding me in his sure grip, within a very few strokes I would be writhing in a grim ecstasy. It was no use trying to resist temptation either, for my dreaming mind merely conjured the same tantalising images, with the same inconvenient results.
Raffles was always indulgent towards me, at times even tender. He sought my company constantly, favouring me in so many ways with secret smiles and discreet caresses, smoothing an unruly lock of hair from my brow, straightening my tie, patting my behind as we went up the stairs to his room. Surely he must feel some attraction for me, although I would not flatter myself to think he could share the intensity of my desire.
Very late one evening, in Raffles' rooms, and with sufficient dutch courage, I was able to raise the subject. In what words I clumsily stammered out my sentiments I cannot now recall, mercifully. But I will never forget the beautiful sadness of Raffles’ expression, as he took my face in his hands and looked into my eyes, as though searching there for how he should respond. Eventually he dropped his hands to his sides and turned to rest his forehead against the cool marble of the mantelpiece, while poking at the fire distractedly. It was a long while before he spoke.
“Ah, Bunny… Bunny, I won't, I can't, d’you see? I already bear responsibility for corrupting you by drawing you into a life of crime with me. How can I have it on my conscience to corrupt you all over again?”
“Corrupt? How?” The thought had not occurred to me. Far from corrupt, to me it seemed very natural for our intimacy, as it were, to be complete. “How could you corrupt me by … by giving me what I want from you?”
“You might say that now, in your cups, but what if you were to regret it in the cold light of day? What we might do here tonight could never be undone. The stain would be with you forever.” Raffles delivered this lecture without passion, as though reciting an instructional book. “You would consider yourself tainted. I dare say you would resolve you were unfit ever to marry, just for a start. Then it would be a descent into drink, opium…”
I made to protest again, but Raffles stayed me. Turning to face me, he sighed, and his expression softened.
“And besides, my dear Bunny, I have to say that it is that innocence about you that I love. I want you always to be as you are now, with your wide blue eyes, your ready, boyish smile, uncorrupted by the sins of the flesh.”
“But I am no longer the boy who fagged for you!” I exclaimed. “I am not thirteen years old, Raffles. I’ll grant you I am not terribly experienced in the ways of the world, but I have lived a little these past years.”
“But you are innocent … in that sense, aren't you?” Raffles queried, archly.
I knew what he meant, and yes, I was a virgin as far as any sort of sexual congress with our own sex went. I nodded mutely. Raffles looked as serious and severe as ever I saw him.
“Precisely. It is a crime, Bunny, of which we speak. Five years with hard labour if the beak’s feeling merciful, to say nothing of the complete dishonour. It would be another crime for which I would have you on my conscience, and that I do not want to countenance. Whenever I have indulged, I have made very careful not to involve another person whose standing or honour could be affected.”
“Those blond minions of Antonov?” I spat in my disgust. “His rent boys?”
Raffles coloured, his eyes were downcast. “Well, if you must put it like that. But there’s the rub, Bunny. In the shadowy world where I now eke out an existence, you have a special place.”
I was relieved that, when Raffles met my eyes again, his expression was warmer.
“Since you came along, you have been like a beacon of hope to me, a guiding light. Your beautiful, shining innocence was such a restorative. Being with you, I feel cleansed, a better man, more like the chap I was before ever I resorted to crime. Believe me, I do care for you, Bunny, but that temptation of which you speak is one I am determined to resist.”
That was it then. My pride wounded, I made a strategic withdrawal.
“In that case, Raffles, it would probably help if I took my leave and removed the source of further ‘temptation’ from your presence.”
In high dudgeon, I took my hat and coat and let myself out.
As the foggy night air wrapped around me, my mood swung between anger and exhilaration. How could Raffles be so arrogant as to want to keep me on ice, a perpetual boy, his Ganymede, just because it suited him and his unfathomable private code of honour? He took no account of my own needs and desires. But he had just as good as told me that he did return my feelings, had even spoken of love.
The next day, a chance meeting presented an opportunity to resolve the situation. I was looking in the window of a tailor’s shop, admiring the cut of the new season's jacket, when I was addressed in a heavily accented drawl. Sergei Antonov was someone I would normally cross the road to avoid, but it was too late, and, in any event, on this occasion seeing him planted the germ of an idea.
In our circle, it was well known that Antonov had a penchant for blond young men, and would procure them for his friends with complete discretion guaranteed. It was also well known that Antonov had his eye on me.
“My dear Bunny,” he drawled. My flesh crawled even as I shook his lilac-gloved hand. My pet name from Raffles’ lips always delighted me, but Antonov’s overfamiliarity was distasteful in the extreme. For all his dandified outfit, complete with silver-topped cane, Antonov smelt of garlic and his long black hair was greasy. For once, however, I restrained myself and forced myself to return his greeting with a pleasant countenance.
“And without your handsome … friend,” Antonov continued, the innuendo heavy in that last utterance. “How very unusual it is, these days, to find you on your own. Unusual, but how very, shall we say, auspicious?”
With a flourish, he consulted his gold fob watch.
“I see it is time for luncheon and I have a table at the Savoy. Would you do me the honour of joining me? Unless you are otherwise engaged?”
I took a deep breath and replied, “Thank you, Sergei, I would like that very much.”
Antonov positively purred as he took my arm and led off towards Piccadilly. Lunch, predictably, was of the liquid variety, with an apparently bottomless magnum of champagne to wash down the morsels of caviar. My companion became ever more familiar and unbearable. It was clear he hoped that I might go home with him that very afternoon, but I was drinking carefully, filling his glass and not mine. If I was not free today, Antonov asked, would I join a house party at his place in Sussex on Friday? It sounded like a rather intimate “party”, since he was unwilling to name any other guests. I said I would think about it, thanked him courteously for lunch, and went about my business.
I now settled down to bide my time with Raffles, whose manner towards me was unchanged after our anguished late night conversation. Evidently he wished to pretend it had never occurred. It was Thursday evening, as Raffles was dressing for dinner, when finally I put my plan into action.
“I'm playing at Lords on Saturday,” Raffles declared. “You'll come to watch, won't you, Bunny? We'll go for supper afterwards.”
“Oh, I'd love to, you know I always like to watch you play. But I've got something else on.”
I inspected my fingernails, hoping that last remark had the right tone of nonchalance. Raffles’ reply came back with a similarly careful sangfroid.
“Something else?” he asked, squinting at the mirror as he adjusted the bow on his necktie. “Whatever do you mean?”
“A house party in Sussex. I’m going down tomorrow evening.”
“Whose house party? Where?” Raffles did not conceal his irritation that I should be invited somewhere without him.
“Devereux Hall.”
“Isn’t that the place Antonov’s taken this year?” Raffles did sound concerned now. “But you despise the man, and he has unwholesome designs on you, Bunny, mark my words.”
“I know that perfectly well, Raffles, for all my innocence. I do not hold any great affection for Sergei, but he is offering me the thing that you withhold. I know he is discreet. And he has a certain… charm.”
“I do not quite understand your drift, my dear.” Raffles’ tone was becoming harsh.
“Do you want me to spell it out?” I continued hotly, angry that Raffles should make me. “Alright, Raffles, if you will not corrupt me, then I know someone who will. After I have been with Sergei, you will no longer be able to hold me on a pedestal, in this state of unblemished innocence you value so highly. I will be ‘tainted’. I will lose my innocence, to him.”
Raffles had been standing perfectly still, watching me, his grey eyes serious. He had every right to be angry with me for sneering, for twisting his words, or even disgusted that I should consider demeaning myself so. But, to my surprise, he broke into a broad grin.
“By Jove, Bunny!” he exclaimed. “You really have got some pluck, joined with a cunning that one can only admire.” He paused, regarding me with open admiration and a dazzling smile. “You are completely the chap for me. How could I ever turn you away? I see your game, now. If I do not oblige, tomorrow night you will let that brute have his way with you. I do believe you’d do it too, or at least you’d let me think you had. And in that moment, I would lose twice over. I would lose forever my fair, angelic talisman, and also the privilege of being your first, a loss that can never be restored. My Bunny, you have excelled yourself, and you have shown me up for a fool, to gamble with such high stakes.”
I grinned back foolishly. Even in these circumstances, praise from Raffles reduced me to witless incompetence.
Raffles took me in his arms, and I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling I owed him an explanation for my desperate ruse. I spoke in a rush into the black serge of his jacket.
“If I were to make love with you, and it won’t ever be with anyone but you, then surely it would not be the same as…that crime you spoke of. It’s not a question of shame, it’s an act of love. You might lose the pure and unsullied reflection of yourself that you fondly imagine me to be, but what we have together, what we are together, will be so much the greater…”
“Enough, enough,” Raffles chided. He lifted my chin and searched my flushed visage with a cool, penetrating gaze, until finally he seemed satisfied. Then, with the slightest inclination of his head, he sealed my lips with his own.