Think of England

After trudging for a while in the fresh cold rain, he arrived at the tower damp and his legs weren't as aching as they used to be.The doctor had always believed that his knee injury was not serious, and it seemed that he should have recovered long ago, but Curtis never believed him.The wounds left at Jacobsdale cannot be healed.But when he got to that stupid faux-medieval tower on the hill, he wasn't thinking about the pain, or the bloody, scorched earth it always reminded him of, but about the ugly truth that the calm surface of Bigholm veiled, Like Da Silva's fishpond shadow, and the dark, slender man he was about to meet.

He went into the tower and shook the damp from the borrowed oilskin.

"I'm up there," the voice from above made Curtis take a step back like a frightened horse. "Fix the latch."

Curtis unfastened his oilskin from his chest, and replaced the heavy oak bolts in the great iron bolts--a detail so impeccably designed by Sir Hubert and his architects that the thick door even A small army can stop it.He climbed up the stairs, the mezzanine floor was about half the area of ​​the round tower, the thick oak floor here was much warmer than the stone slabs on the ground floor.Da Silva stood away from the window, with his shoulders against the wall, his arms crossed, and his coat with a wide fur collar draped over his shoulders.

"It's quite warm here," Curtis took off his coat while observing, "It's very thickly built."

"No one wants to make ruins too simple, do they? We need to talk about last night."

Curtis swallowed. "That's right."

"Threatening letters and treason. We have to get the lead over to the proper authorities without being detected, and before that we have to pick out whatever evidence we left behind last night to allay suspicion."

Alleviating his suspicions, Curtis remembered Dasilva's hot mouth sliding up and down his shaft, his deft tongue gliding over the head of his cock, and the nipple ring pressed against his bare thigh every now and then as he approached. "That's right."

"Like you, the invitation I received is also for two weeks." Da Silva's tone was as smooth as usual. If he also felt the flood of strong sensory memories flooding towards Curtis, he didn't express it. face.Has he given blowjob to countless men, one more? "But I don't want to wait that long, and any one of us could show up at any moment and let them step up their vigilance."

"I assume you mean me."

Da Silva shrugged. "However, I'm not sure how to call for reinforcements. The manor's telephone line passes through the local signal station, and the operator in charge is the Armstrong family's domestic servant."

"You think they'll eavesdrop?"

"I'm sure. It might be all right to send a telegram or mail, but I'm sure they'll do something like open a guest's letter, at least yours and mine, to see if we've written anything about adultery in it, or other fat sheep that they can exploit."

"I suppose so. Well, it looks like you or I will have to cut our visit short."

"That's the best thing to do. Of course, maybe quite rude to the hosts."

"I believe you can find a good excuse." Curtis said.

Interest flashed in Da Silva's eyes. "There's no doubt about it." Then he hesitated for a moment before saying, "I don't want to embarrass you, but we have to consider that they took a picture last night that endangered our reputation. I guess we have to assume they did."

Curtis nodded.He could imagine what those damn pictures looked like.His muscular chest was bare, his facial features were distorted with pleasure, and the dark, slender man knelt between his legs with his head bowed.

"It's not just about finding the negatives and the prints, it's about taking them away and we know about Armstrong's plot. Then they either solve us, destroy the evidence in the cupboard, or do both. .” Da Silva took off his heavy coat and put it down carefully. "It's really warm in here, isn't it. I tend to take all the evidence, whether it's us or someone else, and leave without saying goodbye. Did you drive here?"

"I can't drive," Curtis reluctantly said.How could he say such an answer so easily? "I can't keep my hands on the steering wheel. Can you drive?"

"No. I guess we can walk, but I don't think you'd want to trek thirty miles across the moor any more than I do, and the Armstrongs must be quicker and more familiar with the environment than we are."

"If you're worried about them chasing from behind, the terrain is too open." At least he's pretty good at it. "There's very little cover, it's obvious. Do you have track experience?" The slender figure leaning against the wall and wrapped in a velvet coat did not look like someone used to field operations.

Da Silva shrugged. "Of course not, and I don't hunt. Well then, it looks like we can't get out anytime soon. I think you should go back to London and talk to your Uncle Morris, he knows what to do. Wire before the police arrive. Warn me and let me get our picture out. I'll teach you some unsuspecting code words."

Hearing this, Curtis frowned.Da Silva said it lightly, but what would happen if he stayed alone and was surrounded by a group of men who were watching him? "Why didn't you go back to London and I stay?"

"You can't pick a lock."

"You can't handle sirens."

"I saw it when you dealt with it, and you don't need any complicated skills, you can teach me."

Curtis could teach him, but he didn't want to. "Facing the Armstrong family, I think your danger is much greater than mine." The reason is self-evident.If something should happen to highborn and wealthy war hero Archie Curtis, it will be known, as the formidable Sir Maurice Weese and old general Sir Henry Curtis try to find out whether he is alive or dead. Never give up.Da Silva has no identity and social status, and it is unlikely that he will have a high-ranking friend. The Armstrong family will not think that the disappearance of an inferior Portuguese Jew will cause social concern.Naturally Curtis would have been furious over his tragedy, but by then it was too late.

Dasilva shook his head. "I'm not sure. I think you may be underestimating how ruthless this conspiracy is. With all due respect, it's not something you can handle."

Curtis stared at him, almost speechless.How dare the goddamned boy say such words──to express such meaning──?He took a deep breath, "I can protect myself, it's better than some sissy posing. You leave with the information, and negotiation is what you are good at."

"My God, the soldiers of the British Empire are brave enough to go through danger with their heads held high. You don't have Gatling guns here." Dasilva retorted sourly.

"I'm not afraid of the damned Armstrongs."

"It's not something that can be solved with violence. It's about the evidence and how we move the files so they get arrested after this scuffle and we get out. If the Armstrongs destroy the files in the cupboard before law enforcement can seize the data Everything, we lose. If they use those goddamn pictures on us, gossip is a small thing, you could be in jail for two years."

"What if the Armstrongs catch you while you're sneaking around?" Curtis demanded. "How about digging a grave for you under the redwoods?"

Da Silva frowned. "I'll try to avoid that. It's nothing to argue about, you just go to London and I'll take care of the rest."

"I'll go to hell." Curtis took a step forward angrily. "If you think I'm going to be so wimpy as to hide behind your skirt—"

"What did you say?"

"I won't let others risk their lives to protect my reputation," Curtis angrily said, "That's not the meaning of reputation, do you understand?"

"Actually, even as a vulgar southern European, I understand the meaning of reputation." Da Silva turned pale. "I got you into the predicament last night, and I'll clean up the mess myself."

"I'm not a damn woman, and I don't need you to fucking protect my reputation like the octopus in a farce," Curtis glared at his face. "Who do you think you are to give orders to me?"

"Dear God, this is not the time for you to come back to glory."

"what?"

He came face to face with Da Silva.The thin man leaned against the wall, his dark eyes were full of vigilance, but he didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry I hurt your masculinity last night," Da Silva began, "I apologize for sucking your dick. I know after this unmanly experience you want to act like A noble hero, but I am more concerned about how to hang the Armstrong family while we are both safe. Is that clear?"

Curtis choked on what he wanted to say, his angry rebuttal was mixed with the desire to silence this annoying guy.Most disturbing of all, da Silva's crude and shameless words aroused his consciousness.He wanted to punch him, he wanted to grab him and drag him to him, just like Da Silva had done last night in the library.But he didn't know what he planned to do after controlling the opponent.

"I apologize," da Silva whispered, sounding more like a cobra than an apologetic. "I humbly beg your forgiveness. Is that what you want to hear? Is my kneeling useful?"

Curtis's heart stopped beating.The picture that appeared in his mind was so strong that he couldn't speak, and he knew that his face must have betrayed him, but he couldn't control it.The silence between the two was brief but definite.

"Ah." Da Silva sighed.

Curtis's chest was so tight that he couldn't breathe.Da Silva's eyes are hard to distinguish, his lips are slightly parted, and they are very close.

"Is that so? Let me kneel down, is that what you want?"

It's crazy, it's inexcusable, and there's no excuse this time.Curtis was stiff, his lower body was as stiff as the barrel of a gun, and he was sure Da Silva saw it.

Da Silva stood up straight away from the wall, and now he was within walking distance of Curtis's face, their bodies were so close that they could feel each other's breath. "I have a condition, Curtis. If I do it, it's because you want me to. You ask. You can't accuse me of forcing you to do anything against your will."

Curtis made a muffled sound of protest, and Da Silva stared at him closely. "I mean it. If I'm going to save your wounded manhood by sucking your cock, say so."

Curtis didn't understand why da Silva accused him of being unmanageable, he hadn't felt so manly in years.In addition to his fingers, his career and his friends, Jacobs Dahl took away his desires; he rarely needed his left hand for relief in months.But now, as he stared at those slightly parted lips, knowing what they could do, he felt that Dasilva had never let his desire break down and brought rain.

But he's not a poet, so he didn't say it.

"Tell me what you want." Da Silva's voice was tight and his breathing was short.

"I think... I want you to do that."

"What are you doing?"

"Kneel down," Curtis said, "lick me."

Da Silva pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, spread it on the floor, and knelt on it.Curtis watched his movements, and he couldn't believe it while longing in his heart.He froze, Da Silva reached for his belt without looking up.The buttons were unbuttoned and the fabric was pushed aside, exposing his erect, achingly hard penis, thick against da Silva's delicate features.

"What do you want to do? Do you want to cum in my mouth?"

"Oh my God, yes, please."

"It's not surprising that there are so many people," da Silva murmured, before wrapping his lips around him.

Curtis looked down, watching his thick cock move in and out of Da Silva's mouth, hardly a part of him.Da Silva's tongue and throat were wrapped around him, and his hands reached behind to hold his buttocks, the feeling of being handled like this was so strange even through the clothes.He started to move slightly, matching Da Silva's movements, feeling the tightening of the other's fingers, and then one of the hands reached into his panties, kneading his balls, and -- oh my god -- a finger along the Sliding back along his buttocks.

"Stop," the too intense and intimate stimulation made Curtis subconsciously stop the other party in a hoarse voice, but Da Silva quickly stopped, and he wished he hadn't spoken just now.

Da Silva looked up and backed away, and Curtis saw the glint of saliva on his erect cock. "I'm so sorry, why don't you fuck my mouth yourself?"

He put his lips around the tip of Curtis' cock again, and Curtis did as he was told, pushing hard toward Da Silva's throat, taking hold of his head to push himself forward.He heard the other man's thin whimper, and at the same time two hands clasped his tight hips, he wondered vaguely if da Silva was going to cum too, but he couldn't do anything else other than that bewitching mouth Distracted, he kept jerking, and then without warning and without mercy, he shot streams of hot pleasure into the poet's throat.

After a few seconds he let go of da Silva's hair, his legs shaking.Da Silva sat back on his heels, head bowed, strands of black hair hanging down.

Curtis stuffed himself with trembling hands.The cock, which had finally softened, was now unbearably sensitive.

Da Silva knelt on the ground.He didn't move, didn't speak, and didn't look at Curtis.

Curtis wanted to say something.Thank him, touch him, not to mention that he still remembers what he used to say in school, one person, one victim, heaven is fair, and da Silva has let him go to heaven twice in twelve hours.He also wondered if da Silva had olive skin all over his body, and what a circumcised man looked like.

Da Silva remained silent, not looking like he wanted to be touched.Curtis stretched out his hand tentatively like a wild dog that might bite.The other party did not respond.

"Da Silva? What about you?"

"Me?" The harsh sarcasm returned to Da Silva's tone, the warmth brought by the skin-to-skin contact disappeared without a trace, and he put down his outstretched hand.

"Why did you do that?"

"You did it." Da Silva still lowered his head. "Stop pretending it's all my fault."

"That's not what I meant." Did the guy think he was one of those hypocrites? "I mean—are you all right?"

Da Silva looked up.

"Of course, it's a great feeling, and there's nothing better than having a fight with someone who despises me."

These words seemed to push Curtis into the water, making him confused. "What? I don't despise you."

"Really." Da Silva stood up and brushed the dust off his trousers.

"I don't despise you, this is complete nonsense."

"You said I was a sissy posing, and then stuffed my dick into my mouth." His fingers stroked carefully along his chin. "You should be careful with that thing, it can kill a little bit."

Curtis was stung by guilt. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, it doesn't matter anyway."

"Of course it's important, wait, for heaven's sake." Da Silva grabs Da Silva's arm as he goes to get his coat. "Wait, please. I was so damn rude, I apologize, I—I'm not like my old self, and I'm in pain."

"I can see it. Didn't we just do it so you don't have to think so?"

"That's not what I meant. Listen, you're an absolutely brave man, and you'd risk your life to bring a blackmailer to justice. But I've been through far more dangerous situations than this, and I'm better than you. experience. The most obvious fact is that I'm a soldier and you're a—"

"Faye?" Da Silva said sharply.

"Poet," Curtis said, "meaning I'm here to take the physical risk this time. I won't leave you to face danger and sneak back to London by myself. I don't want to be pointed out that I am incompetent, I I can't say that I like your attitude of expressing your position earlier, but I shouldn't confront you because of this, please forgive me."

Dasilva didn't seem to understand at all, and Curtis felt that he was no different from speaking Swahili[1] just now, because the other party seemed very confused.Curtis didn't know the reason, what he said should be straightforward enough.He relaxed his shoulders, and then pointed to another thing to be honest, "And I hope you can tell me if I did anything wrong, for-" He gestured between his crotch and Da Silva's mouth , "I may have acted inappropriately, I don't understand this kind of thing."

Da Silva opened and closed his mouth, and finally he said: "Yes, you don't understand, and obviously I would be wrong."

"What did you say?"

"Let me figure it out. Is that why you're angry? Cut out of the action? I thought it was your self-esteem on the verge—"

Curtis knew he owed an honest explanation. "I don't need to be reminded that I'm half disabled. It's not easy to live with that fact, and I don't want to be reminded that I'm not as good as I used to be."

"Well, God knows what you used to be, because you're still muscular and have a dick like a horse."

The straightforward description made Curtis blink his eyes in surprise, and Dasilva smiled bluntly, "But it's not my turn to comment. Just tell me, have you, at least once, because I Angry at me for forcing you late?"

Curtis thought over and over again, and finally replied, "No."

"Is it?" Dasilva dragged his tone.

"I'm not mad at you," Curtis said again. "Well, if I was, why would I want you to do it again? You, uh, you're very kind." He said, feeling Blushed.

Da Silva began to pinch the bridge of his nose, like a sign of a headache. "Well...you really confessed, didn't you? I thought—well, I was the one who was stupid. I get it, I see it."

"See what?"

"The facts before us have consequences." Da Silva sighed. "Well, first of all I have no intention of questioning your physical fitness. I am not qualified to do so, and more importantly, I doubt that violence will be useful here. We need to deceive people, and that is my specialty, not yours , that's my other big point. I'm not going to mince words to tell you the truth, the reason why I feel more qualified than you to handle this- ah, shame on me, I wasn't going to tell you .”

"tell me what?"

"The point is, when I imply to you -- well, when I tell you I'm just conducting a private investigation, that's not entirely true. I have official duties."

"Business? What business? Writing sonnets?"

"No, it's another profession of mine." Dasilva's expression was close to embarrassment in Curtis' eyes. "I work in Foreign Office Intelligence. In fact, your Uncle Morris is my boss. I'm his, er, special recruiter."

Curtis understood every word, but he couldn't understand Da Silva's meaning. "You work in intelligence?" he repeated.

"As I said just now."

"Are you a spy?"

"I hate that word. It sounds inexplicably crude."

"you?"

Da Silva rolled his eyes. "You can't believe it, I guess I should be happy. It would be so frustrating if I looked like a tool of the state."

"But—why didn't you say so?"

"Spy. It's classified."

Curtis was tongue-tied, he was still trying to imagine how his meticulous uncle would recruit a fragile flower peacock, and then he was knocked down by an unexpected and terrifying thought.

That's just a disguise.It was all a goddamn disguise.Da Silva is a government agent, and using his infuriating guise to make people take it lightly is his specialty.He gave Curtis oral sex last night to make sure they got the evidence out safely, that's all, but today he, Curtis, he—

He forced the man to kneel and serve him with his mouth.It has nothing to do with Da Silva's will, it's his will.

Curtis stared at the other party, his face ashen.

"Are you okay?" Da Silva's voice seemed to come from far away. "Curtis?"

"Oh my God," Curtis stammered, overwhelmed with shame, "I'm sorry. God, I—I can't apologize any more."

"for……?"

It was too much to bear, but he had brought it on. "You must think I need to be caned."

"I really don't think so. What are you breaking down?"

"Oh my God, buddy, I just made you—" Curtis gestured to the place where Da Silva was kneeling just now. "That. I forced you. It's all my fault. I'm sorry."

Da Silva looked there, then raised his head again, with a subtle expression on his face. "You're suddenly ashamed because you think I'm a government agent, just pretending to be a shameless bitch[2]?"

Curtis forced himself to meet his gaze. "I can only apologize, I didn't know at the time."

"Honey, you're thinking too much." Da Silva patted his arm to comfort him. "I'm a government agent and a shameless sissy. Not that I'll give you oral sex if you ask me to, but if you think you took my mouth virginity, you're probably 15 years too late, And behind a bunch of guys."

"Oh, thank God," Curtis finally let go of the big rock in his heart, and heaved a sigh of relief, but Da Silva's calm expression collapsed, and he bent over with a smile.Curtis looked at him angrily, "This is not funny at all!"

"It's just so funny." Da Silva's eyes were full of smiles, his lips were red, his hair was messy, he looked too handsome, and Curtis's chest was tight.

He fell to the ground, his head buried in his hands.

Da Silva tried his best to control his smile, but his voice was still a little trembling, "Come on, it's not that bad."

Curtis didn't make a sound.There was a short silence.

"Curtis?"

He couldn't do it, he had no face to face all this.How on earth did Da Silva do it?How else could he look each other, or anyone, in the eye?God, this man is his uncle's subordinate.

"I get it, this is as bad as it gets. If you're thinking of attacking me, for goodness' sake don't slap your face, but let me remind you that we still need to work together—"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm praying you don't want to punch me."

Curtis raised his head, "Of course I didn't want to beat you up!"

"Then I'm relieved." Da Silva squatted next to him almost silently. "I hate violence, especially when it's directed at me."

"Why on earth would I do that?" The thought was insulting to Curtis.He may not be bright, but he's not a savage either.

"Oh well, some guys feel like they don't look so gay afterward by beating up the guy who sucked them up."

"I don't think so," Curtis realized something was wrong after he said, "I mean, I won't beat someone up because of this. Of course, I didn't have such a chance before." Da Silva pursed her lips tightly, as if trying her best Hold back from laughing again.Curtis glared, "I mean, even if a man does this to me, it's impossible for me to become gay. I'm not your type."

"Of course you're not."

"I'm really not. I just—behavior just now...wasn't gay, right?"

"Totally different," Dasilva obediently agreed.

"Anyway, that's not the point," Curtis pulled the topic back from a fork in the road, "The point is, the current situation is completely caused by me, so I will never blame you for it."

"I appreciate your frankness, but there is nothing 'wrong' about this matter." Da Silva took out his pocket watch, "We should go back to the villa, it's almost time for lunch. Can you hear a few words from me? "

"I didn't do anything other than listen to you," Curtis said with emotion, "You can talk a donkey."

"You are surprisingly similar to this animal in many aspects." Da Silva frowned, and the sharp words were not stinging at all. "Number one, I'll take the picture because I'm more skilled than you and I'm in charge. Second, I hope you don't feel sorry for yourself over the events of last night, you can see it as a misunderstanding, an insomnia Night or a farce. You can pretend I've forgotten."

This proposal seemed to give him a sigh of relief.Da Silva gave him no time to think.

"The third is the most important: human life. The lives that died in broad daylight at Jacobsdale and in the dead of night on the Thames, those who broke their heads on the shores of Beachy Point and shot themselves alone in their houses human life, or the lives of those who are betrayed in the next war. The Armstrongs have blood on their way, and I want them to be punished. I'm sure you and I are on the same page on this one, because If you are a person who forgets public affairs for personal reasons, then I am mistaken."

Curtis took a deep breath and accepted it without a word. "With all due respect, Da Silva, you don't have to remind me of this a second time."

Da Silva nodded, as if a consensus had been reached between two professionals.He stood up and stretched out a hand to pull Curtis up.Despite having a few pounds more muscle than the opponent, Curtis still held him, feeling the momentary warmth from Da Silva's fingers.

"Very good," Dasilva said, "I'll sneak out first, and you'll leave in five minutes. I'll think of an excuse to get you back to London, and a way for you to notify me of reinforcements on the way. Take it easy, don't try Hero. Getting the information into Wiese's hands is what matters."

"Understood. Just let me know what you need. Otherwise, uh—what's that saying about people and services?"

"You mean 'he who only stands and waits is serving[3]'?"

Da Silva always understood him easily, which made him happy. "Yes, I really can't do it."

"Really? That sounds like my ideal job." Da Silva gave him a quick smile without the usual teasing.He picked up his coat and walked down the stairs without a sound.

Curtis sat back by the wall, thinking about what was going on.

Da Silva is an undercover agent.Considering his bold floral cufflinks and languid demeanor, it's almost impossible to imagine.It is easier for you to associate him with professionals in his posture buried in the manuscripts in the library, but it is impossible to describe him kneeling in front of his eyes...

Stop thinking about that.If Da Silva wasn't good enough, Curtis's uncle, Sir Maurice, wouldn't have recruited him.Curtis imagined for a moment the two of them in the same room together: Sir Maurice, who always made Curtis's back straight, and the bony Dasilva, who was wearing a velvet coat, and he couldn't accept this picture. .But Da Silva will definitely put on another face and work with a professional attitude.He must be good at it, Curtis was convinced of it, the man who could move from character to character like an actor.Perhaps it is not difficult for gays to show different looks, after all, they are used to hiding their secrets──

His thoughts were interrupted by the thought.

He spent his entire school life with only men, and certainly in college.At Oxford he could have been out looking for female partners like everyone else, but he was always on the loose, focusing on sports and, when he had to, his studies.After graduating he joined the army and has since traveled all over Africa, at least as far as Jacobsdale.In fact, he has had only men for company throughout his life.He used to play with the same sex to comfort each other in middle school and university, and he also had a specific object of dispelling his desires in the army, but it was normal under such circumstances, after all, men have needs.

But what da Silva brings today is completely different from his previous same-sex experience.It was the first time he had to seriously think about it.

Curtis closed his eyes.He could still feel the moisture left by Dasilva's mouth on his crotch, and at this moment, he even had the urge to masturbate.

He had never considered his sexuality before.He basically doesn't think much about his own affairs, he is not the kind of person who is good at introspection.But when he thought he was forcing a man to serve him, he finally faced reality.

He wants da Silva.Not just for physical needs, not just for his penis to be soothed, he wanted that smart man with dark complexion, proud and sharp but could easily kneel down.Curtis woke up hard this morning because he thought of the image of Da Silva between his legs reflected in the mirror last night.Seeing the man in the pool room bent over the green table, he struggled to control his erection.And when da Silva is willing to accept him with his incredible mouth, nothing in the world can stand in front of him.

It was you who asked him to give you oral sex.It was you who asked him.

He rubbed his face with his hands, not knowing what he was thinking.

Very good: someone willing to blowjob him is better than nothing, Da Silva is a handsome demon who knows how to please men, and God knows how long he hasn't been aroused, let alone actually relieved.Is there really something else besides that?

The guys he'd been with before were all his kind: soldiers, sportsmen, upper class.He had a general but definite impression of gays, that they were different and coquettish, like the men who painted and painted in London clubs.It's like Da Silva; perfect brows, fitted trousers, posing.

Curtis wasn't that kind of guy.He simply doesn't consider himself gay, no matter what gay looks like.He felt like a normal guy who always liked being around the same sex, that's all.He reckons some people might not understand the difference, but there is a clear line there.He wasn't sure where to draw it, but there was a line anyway.Well, there has to be a line, because he's not gay.

It doesn't help to think about it this way.

Curtis stood up straight away from the wall, and strode downstairs to pick up the oilskin raincoat.It was time to go back to the villa, and he had to face the Armstrong family, perform his duties for the king and the country, and put aside these self-indulgent thoughts.If Da Silva can concentrate on the task at hand, Archie Curtis, serving His Majesty the King, cannot be left behind.

[1] Swahili belongs to the Bantu language family and is one of the most spoken languages ​​in Africa.

[2] Invert is a concept from the nineteenth to the early twentieth century. Before the concept of "homosexual" (homosexual) appeared, Western sexologists believed that homosexuals were born with opposite sexes.

[3] The last sentence of Milton's blind sonnet "His Blindness" is here translated by Tu An.