Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Stand and Deliver!	By : Sal Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > General > Lord of the Ring Stars Views: 1093 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Title: Stand and Deliver!

Author: http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=lord_alexander

Pairing: Billy/Dom, but not as we know it.

Rating: R (possibly less, but not possibly more)

Summary: London. 1670. Master Monaghan has been dragged to a party by his social-climbing and rather awful family, but on the journey back to their townhouse they are held up by the notorious William Boyd, gentleman of the road.

Disclaimer: Not mine in the 21st century, so not mine in the 17th.

Feedback: See me chase it like a dope-smoking penguin living in a tank of sardines.

Author's Notes: I blame it on the song 'Stand and Deliver' by Adam and the Ants, and the poem 'The Highwayman' by Alfred Noyes. Highwaymen fetishes ahoy, including the addition of a leather-clad Billy in boots. Watch me spontaneously combust. This is incredibly fluffy, not the humour I wanted, dammit, so...yes. Also, I have not seen 'Plunkett and MacClean," as I know Lord Rochester is in thBlamBlame my inner Alan Cumming fangirl. Sorry. And the plotbunnies needed to be booted out. Really sorry.

*****

Being the son of a wealthy Northern landowner had its drawbacks, and one of these was family. Dominic rested his elbow on the narrow ledge of the carriage window, chin on his palm, trying to ignore the incessant chatter of his mother and sister, and the rather more penetrating snores of his father.

The party hadn�t been overly terrible, the young man able to find his friends and avoid all mention of his family for a few hours apart from amused and steel-sharp reports of his mother�s flirtatious nature, and the amusement that his little sister was of the same cut of cloth, or his father�s boorish drunkenness. Rochester had been almost too amusing, the laughter from the golden circle of youthful men that he was privileged to call his friends drifting over the strains of the string quartet brought in by the hostess to provide entertainment and dancing.

Dominic never danced.

It was much to the ire of his mother, however, which was part of the reason why he did not indulge in the mindless flirtation that was seventeenth century dancing. A way of making a marriage, of course, something that the handsome man with the blond hair and the penetrating eyes was most keen to avoid.

Of course Lady Monaghan had several suspects lined up, each as vapid and silly as the next. A younger daughter of a duke, the sister of a highly thought of politician, the niece of someone who was distantly related to the king himself. Not for nothing did his mother want her son allied to the Stuarts, so recently placed back onto the throne they deserved. Rumours had abounded that Charles himself would make an entrance at the event, for he loved the flamboyancy of a party, especially one hosted by nobility, but it had been in vain. Rochester had said he was otherwise engaged, an actress from Drury Lane had recently caught his eye with her chestnut curls and breasts that surely the Song of Solomon had been written for. Dominic had seen her in a play; a pretty young creature called Nell Gwyn, though he had not been as bowled over as the king had obviously been.

Looking from the corner of his eye, he watched those to whom he was so unfortunately related. His sister, a sweet girl overly-dominated by their mother, and weak enough to have picked up the worst of the woman�s character traits. Lizzie was attractive, of course, blonde ringlets cascading over pleasingly plump shoulders and a pretty cupid�s bow of a mouth. Her clothing was to the latest fashion, high-waisted and low necked, breasts as pale and tempting as the voluptuous shoulders threatening to escape the embroidered neckline. Excellent temperament though, she would make someone a fine broodmare.

Across from him, Lord Monaghan snorted in his sleep, turning slightly on the soft cushions of the carriage, his grey periwig askew. Dominic�s father was not the type to attend parties; indeed, he preferred the solitude of their manor in Lancashire, being Master of their hunt, shooting with other men who had made their money not through marriage or inheritance, but through hard graft. He was florid faced, a taste for brandy evident in broken veins on his nose, and running towards massiveness. Though Lord Monaghan was active, his Epicurean appetite was such that even exercise could not save him from the soft flab that had rounhis his cheeks and chin, made his stomach domed and stately. Like the design that Christopher Wren had for the roof of the new St Paul�s, Dominic thought idly.

It was towards his mother that most of his vitriol was directed. She was a faded beauty, married off when but fourteen to a lord that her father had known socially. All she had brought to the marriage was her attractive face, the gleaming blonde hair her children both sported, and a grasping nature. Rouged, painted, plucked, her face mask-like, her dress far too young as if she was trying to compete with Lizzie, she was currently upbraiding her daughter for not showing enough interest in several rich older men who had been trying to pray upon her.

Of course, his sister had been more interested with those of her own circle, giggling females that spoke of fashions and handsome young men.

His own friends were often the fantasies of those young women, though they were held in contempt by most of them. After all, to be with Rochester, you had to be intelligent, and those who found the idiocy of the female charming unless as sport were quickly ostracised. Anyway, those who were allied with the Earl were usually those who had more esoteric tastes.

Then, there was a shout out of the darkness, jolting Dominic from his dreaming thoughts, and the carriage shuddered to a halt.

Lizzie gave a small whimper, her round blue eyes growing ever larger as the family stared at each other. Of course, there was no mistaking what the call in the night had signified.

The King�s Road, after all, was an area where the gentlemen of the road found the richest of pickings.

*****

Huddled outside the carriage, his father quivering with righteous indignation and his mother and sister clinging together for support, Dominic was appalled to find himself almost detached from the situation. They were being robbed, robbed of not insubstantial amounts of money and jewellery, and still it had yet to sink in. Possibly it was because he himself carried no coin or gems, and would therefore not be the object of any humiliation by the highwayman.

The carriage driver had asked them to step from their conveyance, his only crime in the entire affair the forgetfulness to carry his own weapon, and, at the glint of pistols in the hand of the rider who had drawn along sidem, em, he had submitted directly. He was not the one that would be robbed, after all, and he wasn�t willing to lose his life over the belongings of such a family.

Currently, the carriage driver was holding the reins of his own horses, plus those of the highwayman�s mount. It was a handsome gelding, a dark bay with a broad white blaze from nostrils to headband, quietly stamping a fand and crunching on the bit.

It was a horse that had been identified in many robberies.

The horse of William Boyd.

*****

Even Dominic, who eschewed popular culture, had heard of the infamous William Boyd, a gentleman from north of the border. A wily Scotsman, they said, who had a silvered tongue and an ability to talk his way from any situation. Once he had almost been hanged, until accomplices had him rescued from jail in Edinburgh, and he had slipped south, to the seething mass of underworld London, where he would not be recognised.

The man was dressed in black, de rigeur for highwaymen, of course. Dominic caught himself wishing that the great William Boyd were a little more flamboyant in dress, a little different. Wine coloured velvet, perhaps, like he himself was wearing, or fawn breeches. It was only as the man moved towards them, a pistol black-barrelled and glinting in one hand, the twin tucked in his belt, that the young man realised the peculiarities of his dress.

Under the long black cape, William Boyd wore breeches made of the finest black calfskin, leather gleaming dully in the faint light, while the lower half of his leg was encased in the finest knee boots he had ever seen; the join between boot and breeches unnoticeable.

Being a friend of Rochester had given Dominic the ability to recognise quality.

Lord Monaghan was approached, the heavy gold rings of his ancestors removed from his fingers, the purseful ilveilver taken from his belt. Though the Scotsman was talking to his father, the young man was unable to make out the words, carried away on the faint breeze that caused the trees to ripple, starlight dancing over the small party.

Lizzie handed her jewels over almost thankfully. Ruby earbobs, the matching necklace, the wristcuffs and the rings, all bought for her sixteenth birthday and now no longer hers. The willingness, Dominic supposed, was some young girl�s fancy, the danger and exquisite romance of being held up by a highwayman shiveringly exciting, something for her and her friends to discuss, perhaps add kisses to, kisses between a beautiful innocent girl and a handsomely roguish stranger.

Then, his mother, with as much dignity as she could muster, dropped her jewellery into the leather-gloved hand. The highwayman examined the pieces, removed the golden marriage circlet, and slid it back onto Lady Monaghan�s finger with a kiss on her knuckles.

The slap rang out across the clearing.

With a laugh, the man pulled away, mockingly bowing, before his attention was turned fully to the Dominic.

*****

Their eyes met, and locked.

William Boyd was a little under Dominic�s own height, and slim, with pale skin and green eyes so mischievous, so devilish that they should have belonged to Puck himself. What drew the most attention, however, was the man�s mouth. If Lizzie�s mouth was beautiful, his was exquisite, a perfectly shaped top lip paired with the ripely soft lower, now both pressed together in a slow smile.

If the future Lord Monaghan was startled at the thoughts crowding his head, at least it didn�t show on his face.

�Now, young sir, with your family having made such a generous contribution to my cause, what have you to give?� The voice was velvet, the burr of the accent and the sweetness of tone combining to remind Dominic of lochs and tranquil glens.

�I wear no jewellery, sir, and I carry no coin. I am afraid I will have to decline your kind offer to take such troublesome objects from my hands.�

The highwayman�s eyebrows arched a little, as if he was sizing up the younger man to ascertain the truth of the matter. From his point of view the blond didn�t seem to be wearing anything precious, his hands naked and pale as the lay by his sides. A handsome man, though, no doubt about that. Interesting. Fun could be had, havoc wreaked with this one.

�If I would be so bold, sir, I do not accept non-payment.�

It was the turn of Dominic�s eyebrow�s to rise slightly, and he stared at the green-eyed man who looked at him so boldly.

�And what would my payment entail?�

Then, in a swift move, Dominic found himself being pressed against the side of the carriage, William Boyd pressing against him. As theye ofe of a similar height, they touched almost exactly all the way down; a fact that the younger man realised as the highwayman twitched his hips almost lewdly. The hand not holding the pistol, leathered in soft kid, stroked down his face, and Dominic gasped slightly as those beautifully formed lips crushed against his.

With his victim shocked into inaction, the highwayman took advantage, pressing in more, slightly on his toes to dominate the kiss. As he did, the action deepened, and as William Boyd�s tongue found that of Dominic�s they both gave a low moan.

To the blond�s shock he was enjoying it. It was like coming home, like something had clicked in his mind.

He actively began to pursue the kiss, his mouth softening to the command of the other man and his hands, that had been laid flat against the body of the carriage, moving tentatively. They slid onto the leather-covered hips, thumbs hooking in the waistband under the long black coat the man wore.

It happened so fast that the building of intensity was terrifying, more so than being kissed in the first place.

There was a click of the pistol as the highwayman drew away for breath. He looked ruffled, his cheeks flushed, eyes fever-bright, a slight look of confusion battling with desire on his attractive face. Mouthing something like �I will not harm thee,� the weapon was pointed with a slightly trembling hand at Dominic, who, despite the words, cowered.

�As your son cannot supply me with trinkets, I am afraid he hav have to supply me with himself.�

With that, William Boyd reclaimed his horse from the coachman, gesturing for Dominic to climb onto the creature, before mounting behind. The fit in the saddle was snug, the young aristocrat finding himself surrounded by the highwayman�s arms, thighs against thighs, and with an impish grin at the thoroughlyckedcked Monaghans, the Scotsman spurred his mount into the night.

*****

It was during the ride, which for the most part was silent, that Dominic realised two things. The first was the enormity of what was happening. He was being kidnapped. It hadn�t even occurred to him, and he mentally berated himself. What would happen to him? Would there be a ransom demand, or would he just be murdered for not having any items that would prove useful?

The second was that the rocking canter of the gelding, combined with an arm around his waist and being held by a dangerous and attractive criminal was arousing him.

*****

The Tabard Inn, on the Strand. Notorious among certain circles, and as Dominic knew several men who moved in them, he knew exactly what sort of business was concluded here. His confirmation came when he and William Boyd, who�d cheerfully asked to be called Billy, after all they were friends now, weren�t they, entered the tavern.

Men. Everywhere. Not unusual in a London public house, but having men kissing and caressing each other, openly touching and interacting on a more intimate level than he�d ever seen before left him as wide eyed as Lizzie.

Part of him realised that he should revile and eschew the idea of two men. Another part of him, the part that had responded to being crushed against a carriage by a highwayman, was getting more and more dominant.

Dominic wasn�t an innocent, though he had never been with anyone, male or female. Rochester had touched his thigh once or twice, an unanswered question in his dark sensual eyes, but the young man had never really thought about the physical nature of sex. For him, upsetting as it may seem, he�d been brought up to believe that sex was for the procreation of children. Though his worldlier friends had mistresses and other men they turned to, Dominic had almost been priestly, above all of that as Rochester had teased him once, the moral one in a climate of hedonistic pleasures.

He wondered why as he watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as one man pleasured another with his mouth.

*****

A touch on his shoulder, a hand slipping into his, a hand that felt callused from holding reins, and he was following Billy (not William, it�s rather official sounding, alas) up a flight of stairs, the wood creaking under their combined weights, along a corridor, and Billy unlocked a door.

�Unfortunately, as I was not expecting company this night, my chamber may be a little untidy.�

It was not as awful as Dominic had imagined, the furniture ancient and heavily used, clothes flung across a chair. At least the tiny flicker of a single guttering candle was increased as Billy lit the few that were mere stubs melted onto a small dish.

The highwayman removed his hat, revealing sandy hair cropped unfashionably close to his head; he must wear a wig, Dominic thought, not even entertaining the idea that there were some men who did not wear their hair long like himself, or have a fake hairpiece. The next to be dropped to the floor was the long black cape, finally showing properly what lay under the voluminous folds.

He had been right, though he had not expected the man�s shirt to be black; fine linen with the top buttons undone, tucked into the leather breeches, and those, in turn, tucked into the leather boots.

It struck Dominic then that this man, this William Boyd, scourge of all law-abiding citizens, was possibly the most beautiful thing he�d ever seen in his entire life.

�Make yourself comfortable, Master�I�m terribly sorry, I do not know your name.�

�Dominic�you may call me Dominic.�

�Dominic.� The way Billy said it, in his wild Scottish brogue, wasost ost like he was making love to the word with his tongue. The younger man shivered, fingers hovering over the fastenings of his long claret coat, seemingly too distracted by the other to make his hands work.

It was solved, however, when the highwayman strode over to the bed, so close to Dominic that he had to lay back, so near that he could smell the scent of horse and leather, and then he was exquisitely aware that he was being sat upon. Fingers were expertly unbuttoning the heavy velvet, his shirt was followed and with a tug or two he was half-naked on the stained blankets.

�You were too beautiful for me not to kiss. I would have taken the liberty even if you had given me some trinkets.�

Dominic shivered, the rooms colder than he was used to, but he was distracted by leather-clad hands sliding over his chest, and kind green eyes - the kindest eyes that he had ever known - which locked a gaze with him again and then they were kissing. It was as blinding as before, as if there was some electric connection between them that only sparked when they were touching.

With a moan, shrill with longing and need, and forgetting all about his frantic family trying to find where the Scotsman had taken him, Dominic gave himself to Billy utterly.

*****

Elijah stared out of the window of the carriage, listening to the chatter of his family with an idle ear, before a twin cry of �stand and deliver� brought the contrivance to a stand still and he caught his first glimpse of Boyd and Monaghan, the gentlemen of the road.

Becoming a notorious highwayman; the ultimate way for Dominic to upset his mother.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Stand and Deliver!