Greetings!

Time for some Seductive Studs and a visit to The Greek Room! If you would like to catch up or have a refresher, click here.

Fluidly, James rolled them over and, sliding along Christos, took his cock in his mouth. Christos nearly spent right then and there. Months it had been since he’d had anyone to pleasure him, and—while he wasn’t adverse to masturbation—self-abuse hardly held a candle to the sensations of lips and tongues. Particularly as when as masterfully applied as James did. A wracking groan escaped him.

Wet and hot, James’ mouth was seemingly all over him. First suckling his bollocks, then licking around his corona, then—most exciting—taking his full length into his throat. Rare was the Greek man who would suck cock—it was considered womanly, a sign of submission. Even rarer still had been one who could take him in his entirety.

Yet James had managed to bury his face into Christos’ crotch. He could hear the rasp of James’ breath through his nostrils, his mouth jammed with Christos’ manhood. He laid his hands on the dark hair, holding the young man in place as he penetrated his face. James’ throat pulsed, his lips and tongue massaging Christos, as he brought him closer and closer to climax.

As pleasurable as that release would be, Christos wanted intercourse. He wanted to feel the Englishman beneath him, to drive into that most intimate of regions.

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 Greetings, all!

Welcome to the weekend and time for some Seductive Studs! We are returning to The Greek Room, so if you need a refresher, click here.

Evans’ native pragmatism reasserted itself; he would soldier on. That dream was not the only diversion he had.

Composed again, Evans walked to the shelves and pressed a small switch, hidden within the detailed carvings. He pulled open the section of bookcase and entered the steep, narrow staircase that descended into the depths of the manor. Upon reaching the bottom, he found another switch, flooding the space with glaring white light. Evans smiled at one of his new technological toys. He’d be damned if Lord Armstrong’s was going to be the only estate in Northumberland to have electricity.

Greek pottery

Lovingly he ran his fingers across the array of items displayed throughout the room. Statuettes of ancient athletes and shunga netsuke of muscular Samurai stood alongside naked male figures from Egypt, Babylon, China, all carved of ivory and whalebone and jade. Paintings and sketches showed a variety of scenes, some from de Sade’s The 120 Days of Sodom. Framed papyri depicted every conceivable penetration of a male body by another, some singularly, others in groups. Frequently he imagined Agamemnon and himself populating those drawings. The earl’s hand strayed to his crotch and caressed a nascent erection.

Evans crossed the room to a heavy door, taking a key out of his waistcoat. From the room beyond he retrieved a large, flat envelope. London requires replenishment. He patted the envelope, recalling his pleasure at its contents. They will particularly enjoy these.

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Greetings, all!

The weekend is here, and it’s time for some Seductive Studs! We’re returning to The Greek Room, so if you would like a refresher, click here.

Robert Evans, Earl of Corbridge, stared at the doors, long after they had closed behind Christos. He marveled that the young Greek émigré had walked out of the green fields and beech copses of Northumberland and into his home. Blond and olive-skinned, the young man was clearly his father’s son; he even had Agamemnon’s emerald eyes in that face worthy of Adonis. It was as if his dreams had been made real.

Grief welled in his breast. The thought of Agamemnon weak and ill seared him. He had always treasured the thought of returning to Greece—to Agamemnon—as a palliative against the numbing boredom of his familial duty. Heartache choked him, and he sank into nostalgia.

Spartan swordsman

Memories of his Greek lover rose before him—images of him and Agamemnon entangled beneath the bleached-white canvas of an impromptu lean-to. The heat and lust drawing from their pores a cloud of musk and tangy man-sweat while kestrels screamed in the air above them. The hard flat plains of Agamemnon’s chest and belly heaving beneath him as he rode the Greek’s hard cock. All came back, as fresh and vibrant as if it had happened yesterday, and Robert lived in them for a while.

But now that escape was gone.

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Greetings, everyone!

Time for some Studs! It’s back to The Greek Room, so if you need to catch up, click here.

Christos paused to admire the lanky servant, whose fine black hair dusted smooth planes of wiry muscle, before crawling across the bed and molding his body along James’. Retaking James’ lips, his tongue coaxed its way between James’ teeth and the Englishman’s teased back. While their mouths sparred, hands glided, stroking and touching, and hips bucked with dueling cocks.

Yes_they_are | DravenSeb | deviantart.com

“You are quite thrilling—attractive as well.”

James pulled away to look up at him. “Chris! You gotta not sound so posh.”

“What do you mean?” Christos’ brows drew together.

James rolled his eyes. “’What do you mean?’” he mimicked Christos’ rounded tones. “You sound like some toff!”

“What is a ‘toff’?” He stroked a lock of hair off James’ brow.

“A toff is an upper class fancy pants.” James nipped at his hand, catching his index finger between sharp teeth, and sucked on its tip.

Christos trailed the spit-slicked finger over James’ chest. “You sounded… posh… when you answered the door.” He circled a hairy nipple, and the little nub pushed against his hand.

James’ hands coasted over his back, leaving cool fire in their wake. “That’s jus’ for appearances!”

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Greetings, all! Saturday has come again and it’s time for some Seductive Studs!

We are returning once more to The Greek Room. If you’re new or would like a refresher, click here.

Christos’ thoughts spun. Never had anyone approached him so brashly. He was adept at the dance of secret glances and small gestures that was the way of the tavernas; but to have a man—particularly one as handsome as James—offer sex directly sent him into a spiral. Fear and surprise struggled with a desire that had smoldered since he entered the manor house.

Lust won.

“Kiss” by BLOoDyPaRaDiZe | deviantart.com

Gripping James by the neck, Christos captured those full lips and drove the Englishman backwards to the bed. Before he had even rumpled the counterpane, James had undone his tie, ripped open his shirt and was pushing Christos’ coat off his shoulders. The Greek youth released his companion just long enough to fling the jacket away and scramble out of his own clothing. James used the respite to shrug out of his braces and kick his trousers aside before lying back on his elbows and massaging his rising erection. “Oi, mate! You’re bloody fuckin’ gorgeous.”

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Greetings, all!

Yes, I have been absent recently–no good excuse other than lots of stuff going on!

It’s time for another visit to Christos and James in The Greek Room. For a refresher, click here.

James set the tiny valise at the foot of the enormous bed. “This is the best bed in this wing.” He brushed at the counterpane. “Care to give it a tumble?”

Christos turned around; James stood close behind him. “Excuse me?”

The Englishman took his hat from his hand and tossed it onto a table. “I asked if you’d… like… to fuck.” James’ hands settled on his shoulders, neither pushing nor pulling. This close to the servant, Christos realized a spicy scent, like cloves or cinnamon, hung about him.

“Wha—“Christos swallowed with difficulty. “Why would you ask that?”

“Why not? You’re a fine looking fellow. And you are Greek after all, aren’t you?” James’ fingers had found their way under his suit coat and were gliding over his chest. “Nice and solid, too—just like I like.”

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Greetings, all! Another weekend is upon us, which means some more Seductive Studs and Sirens!

It is time to return to The Greek Room. This week we get to see things from James’ perspective. For a refresher or to catch up, click here.

James could feel the Greek’s eyes on his back.

He did feel kinda bad for the blighter—James was a wanton eavesdropper and had overheard Christos’ story—but he was still jealous. Six years he’d worked for the randy old bender, come with him up here to north bum fuck Egypt, leaving behind the posh and comfy townhouse in London—and now this bloke shows up outta nowhere and gets a suite! It was horse shite!

Not that this Greek chap wouldn’t be a handsome addition to the household—certainly easier to look at than Charlie the groom. Although Charlie did fuck like a grenadier.

But… if the bleedin’ muck snipe did have somethin’ in with the old man, then it probably wouldn’t hurt to be on his good side. Bloody diplomacy!

James paused on the landing and faced the newcomer. “Look ‘ere, mate. Sorry ‘bout that bit at the front door—old man Evans don’t like being’ disturbed over much. Jus’ doin’ my job, ya know.” He extended his hand. “I’m James.”

“Christos Stefanopolous.”

The hand that grasped James’ was long-fingered, rough and callused. Definitely not the poncey kind of hand that James had expected. “Welcome to Dunbarton ‘All.”

“Thank you, James,” replied Christos, matching his gaze with wide, green eyes.

James especially liked those green eyes. The footman looked at the young man, actually took a moment to see him—and what he saw was quite nice. Perhaps his bein’ here won’t be so bad after all.

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Greetings, all! It’s time for some Seductive Studs!

This week we are rejoining The Greek Room. To catch up or for a refresher, click here.

Robert Evans, Earl of Corbridge, was not a young man—not quite a geezer, but almost. Grey-haired and professorial looking, he wore a polka-dot bow tie, burgundy silk waistcoat with charcoal-grey trousers and coat. Still tall and straight, he placed the book he had been holding on the desk next to the opened letter and came around the expanse of wood, extending a hand.

“Good day, young man.”

Christos had never met an earl. He didn’t know if he was to bow over the proffered hand or to shake it. Lord Evans seemed affable enough, so he matched the handshake. The Englishman’s grip was firm and dry. “And… and to you, your Lordship.”

The earl smiled. “Have a seat. What’s your name, lad?”

Credit: artur84 | FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“Christos, sir. Christos Stefanopolous.” He took the indicated chair, perching on the very edge, despite its plush invitation.

“So Agamemnon is—“

“Was, sir.” Christos interrupted, holding the memories at bay. “He was my father.”

“Ah, I see.” Lord Evans seemed to deflate a bit, as if his years weighed a little more heavily. ”My condolences.”

“Thank you, sir,” the young man whispered. That seemed the millionth time he’d heard those words. Their entire village had attended the funeral, crammed into the small church of St. Sebastian alongside men from his father’s army command. So many murmurs of sympathy, so much sadness. 

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Greetings, all! It’s Saturday and time for some more Seductive Studs!

Today we rejoin Christos in The Greek Room. To catch up, click here.

The footman grabbed the letter from Christos’ hand. His lips moved as he read the address. The Honourable Robert Evans, Dunbarton Hall, Corbridge, Northumberland. Duty warred with distaste across the footman’s well-proportioned face. “Wait here,” he mumbled. He turned on his heel and disappeared into the depths of the house, straightening his hair and coat as he went.

Anxiety returned, roiling Christos’ gut. It was a mistake to have let the letter out of his sight. It was all he had—the only thing left from his father. But it was too late to call the footman back. He could only believe in his father’s conviction, in his trust of this man Robert Evans. To distract himself Christos wandered about the entry hall.

Benningbrough Hall, Yorkshire

The foyer was immense. Dominated by a gigantic chandelier, the circular space was larger—and more richly appointed—than any place Christos had ever seen, even in Athens. Enormous oil paintings showed a variety of men and women in all manners of dress, some standing, looking stiffly posed; others astride horses or holding dogs; a few depicted children seeming stuffy and over-dressed. Every surface he examined gleamed with polished marble or gold or silver. The clack of boot heels returned, and Christos scuttled back to his appointed place near the door.

He took the opportunity to examine the young servant. Tall, dark-haired with broad shoulders and a trim waist, he was quite attractive, now that his face wasn’t distorted. Smooth skin and a fine straight nose made Christos curious about tasting the footman’s full lips.

“The Earl will receive you.” Clearly the young man thought his master had gone totally potty to see this stranger who had appeared out of the morning mist. “Follow me.”

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‘Til next time!