Golden Dew

by i_write_bad

Summary:

Mr. Hall leaned back, bracing himself so as not to tumble from the sill, his golden hair sparkling in the moonlight, christened with dew drops from the downpour, tresses tossing wildly as he shakes his head. It struck Scudder how beautiful he looked, the light hitting his features, outlining them with silver. Hall laughed, a mad laugh, the kind that tugs your lips too far outward as your mind races like a brook devolving into rapids; thoughts crashing over rocks and pulling in the small creatures unable to get to the other side.

or

A bunch of the scenes but centered on Alec.

Smutt to come… heh literally

Notes:

This is my first published work! Haven't written in around a year sooooo
Let me know if you have any suggestions!

Chapter 1

Autumn 1913

 

Mr. Hall leaned back, bracing himself so as not to tumble from the sill, his golden hair sparkling in the moonlight, christened with dew drops from the downpour, tresses tossing wildly as he shakes his head. It struck Scudder how beautiful he looked, the light hitting his features, outlining them with silver. Hall laughed, a mad laugh, the kind that tugs your lips too far outward as your mind races like a brook devolving into rapids; thoughts crashing over rocks and pulling in the small creatures unable to get to the other side.

Scudder laughs one of his own, loud and giddy at the sight, and nearly topples from his perch in the apricot tree. He grips the branches tighter and watches as Hall shakes again, pausing to let the skies drench him, and the groundskeeper shudders at the thought of droplets sliding across his lips and down his throat, painting a trail of cool relief. God, to fall over him like water; following the contours of muscle, dipping into his curves and leaving behind sensations of bliss.

By the time Scudder gained control of his mind, the blond was pulling the window closed. He could see him run his fingers through his hair before disappearing from view.

 

To hope it wasn’t Durham causing such elation…was it distress? If it was because of that toff, Scudder thought, hopefully the latter.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Hiiiii here's chapter two for you!

Blem: cockney word for cigarette

Hall stepped quietly so as not to disturb the peace of his momentary solitude, stopping only to light a fag under an overhang.

Scudder set down his hammer and wiped his brow. The air was chilled but the days work always caused a sweat. He looked down when he heard a lighter click. Once. Twice. Then a hiss as a cig was lit. He nearly let his own slip from between his teeth when he saw who it was.

Hair combed carefully back in line and dinner suit pressed smooth as he fit the blem between his lips. The sight of him all proper and poised annoyed Scudder. He liked it better when he was in the rain; thin linen undershirt clinging to his chest as a wild smile overtook his eyes and his hair unkempt and free.

It was a good thing Scudder was so high up, the urge to reach out and ruffle those perfectly styled strands overtook him with a force stronger than anything he had felt in a while.

The gentleman sighed and let out a breath of smoke. It very well could have been his breath in the cold, and Scudder imagined what he would look like with face dusted rosy and ears pricked red.

He blinked and descended the ladder, landing behind the man. He bit down on his cigarette and managed,

"Pardon me, sir. Um, will the gentlemen be shootin tomorrow?"

Hall turned and the gamekeepers breath caught as though he hadn’t actually expected him to reply. His eyes were trained carefully on the other’s so as not to wander.

"I don’t think so. Obviously not. It’s the cricket match."

He swallowed, snapping his eyes back upwards from the cig comfortably resting between Hall’s lips.

"I’m sure sir. I’m very sorry if I failed to give you and Mr. London full satisfaction, sir.”

Scudder swallowed again, noticing the word satisfaction had slipped from him.

Hall paused,

“Thats all right, Scudder.”

He acknowledged, gazing at him thoughtfully. He turned, taking another drag and resuming his stroll, much less careful of making noise.

 

Scudder breathed out the plume of smoke he didn’t realize he was holding in. He grasped the ladder and mustered up the courage for another small collection of words, this time much more personal.

“Glad to see you down again so soon, sir.”

The Gentleman froze, a surprised expression finding the other man, and he paused for another moment, searching his face as he picked out what to say next, the smoke leaking from his lips flowing downward like trickling water.

“That's alright, Scudder.”

He repeated, unable to think of what else to say in response to such an intimate statement. He turned and continued down the path.

Scudder watched as he disappeared around the curve of the house. 

Chapter 3

Notes:

Chapter 3!

Simcox’s thigh blocked Scudder’s path, fastening the bottom of one of his pant legs for cycling, purposely placing the other in front of him as well.

Scudder paused, waiting for what the man wanted to say.

An easy start tomorrow. Only Mr. Hall’s pleasure to wait upon.

Simcox huffed, a fraction of a smirk playing on his lips as he turned to his bicycle. Strange emphasis.

Mr. Hall’s a gentleman.

Scudder retorted without thinking. How could Simcox speak of his superior that that? Of Mr. Hall like that? The older man chuckled and pulled his bike along with him, and the underkeeper couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration or amusement.

Chapter 4: The Russet Room I

Notes:

Hellooo next chap is the actual smutt so I have to spend more time making it sound like actual writing and not concentrated cringe lol

The leaves crunch below his work boots as he continues his route across the grounds. One that passes right under the Russet room. See, Scudder had been strolling this way ever since the day Hall drank up the moonlight. He could’ve sworn it was a hex, the fascinating man behind it causing him to subconsciously seek him out wherever he was.

 

One glimpse and Scudder knew a night of insomnia was ahead, and god forbid they make eye contact. Luckily in that case, the insomnia would dissolve rather quickly in the boathouse. A good wank picturing hands running through gold and misty blue eyes trained solely on him, and he was off to sleep.

 

Scudder froze. The grinding of an opening window causing him to scurry into the shadows lest he be discovered peering at a wealthy man. It was the window he hoped it was, and he watched as it was opened wide, breath catching forcefully in his throat as his eyes played upon his prize.

The man is disheveled, hair tossed and… his eyes widen as they travel down him. Deep, navy blue bedclothes hung off him, showing his well kept body. Only the bottom few buttons were fastened, his bare chest glowing in the bright moon.

Scudder wasn’t all that close, but he could see the curves of muscle and he swallowed hard, picturing running his fingers over them, turning them from pale to pink with his teeth. Good god.

He was framed like one of the greek statues Scudder saw in the museum with his parents as a boy.

The keeper hardly breathed as Hall gracefully hopped over the sill, standing with his arms around himself bracing the bite of the cold. His arms fell to his sides as he noticed the ladder propped up next to him, left from repairing the roof. His eyes searched the dark almost frantically and absentmindedly he grasped the top of the ladder.

He shook it hard, the word knocking against the roof. He shook it again, looking around wildly. He sighed, at last resigning by slinking back through the window and lowering it a little behind him.

Scudder’s mind was racing. He was the only one who wouldn’t be looked at funny for walking the grounds at night, but surely not.
But he had looked so alone. So distressed at the absence of another.
Well shite. Now he had to try. Maybe that way the spell would lift.

 

One moment he was on the ground and the next he is ascending the final rungs of the ladder. He is swift, moving carefully, almost feline towards the entrance. He swooped his legs in and perched on the sill, eyeing Hall. The man had jolted upright, eyes wide and mouth agape, staring into two chocolate pools of what he could only guess was curiosity and burning lust.

Scudder creeps forward with posture low and vision fixed. Hall’s pale blue fill with surprise, and he convinces himself, lust. He gently lowers himself onto the bed, far enough from Hall so as not to touch and scare him off.

Was that you calling to me, sir?

Searching his face, Scudder sees his expression soften and his lips become less pursed. He reaches out and gently takes hold of the gentleman’s shoulders. He doesn’t bristle, and Scudder takes this as permission to move closer, wrapping his arms around Hall and pulling him into a warm embrace.

I know sir.

He feels him shiver and looks up but finds no discomfort as Hall’s hands rest lightly on Scudder’s back.

It’s alright, I know, sir.

He relaxes more into the touch and the underkeeper snakes his hands around to undo the last of his buttons, sliding the light garment off his shoulders.

Come on, lie down.

He obeys, looking down as Scudder runs his fingers up his chest, light enough to almost tickle and he shudders hard, feeling a string of electricity run down him. Scudder bends forward, forcing control to wash over himself. He didn’t want to rush and scare him away.
His lips gently brush the skin above his stomach, drawing a small gasp from the other. He continues peppering kisses up his chest, the intensity increasing as he rises and he feels Hall slip his fingers under his cap, knocking it off and tangling with his curls. It is going to be very hard to control himself. He feels a pull on his hair and follows it upward leaving a trail of fire in his wake. The tugging stops at the neck, Hall leaning away to expose the sensitive flesh under his ear.

Scudder takes a deep breath to regulate the urges pulsing through him at the sight and leave a hot kiss under his jaw. He drags his teeth along Hall’s collarbone and earns a whine that flows right through him and he bites down, not hard enough to leave the realm of pleasure, but enough to surely leave a mark. He kisses and sucks on the area, Hall’s arms squirming as he huffs from the sensation. Scudder licks over the area and his tongue continues up his neck where he nibbles gently on his ear. A loud whimper from Hall shoots to his pants and it gets progressively harder to control himself.

 

W-What’s your name?

Scudder, sir.

He says between kisses, smiling at the mess he is turning him into.

No your— nghh… other n-name.

Only Alec, just.

He bites down again, a bit above his right nipple earning a louder whine.

I’m… I’m— aghhh M-Maurice

Maurice…

He mutters into his skin. I like that.