Temptation ~ The second novelette from "Different Desire", a Gay Victorian Romance and Erotic novelette collection

moment he did indeed resemble the young pouting student that Oliver had expected him to be when he first arrived at Wycliffe Castle. Pouting or not, he still manag es to look dazzlingly handsome, Oliver noted with a hint of despair. He pinched the bridge of his nose again, harder this time for good measure, and tried not to weep for the future.
    “ Let us start from the beginning,” Oliver said after a moment and a couple of deep breaths. “Ah, yes. Classical languages. How would you describe your knowledge in Latin , then, Mr Henley?”
     
    *
     
    The nex t morning, at eight o’clock, Oliver waited for Winston in the parlour room that had been allocated for their studying.
    The parlour room was similar to most of the other rooms in the castle . It was panelled with carved oak that–although it was a fine craftsmanship–did not manage to keep the creeping cold from the thick stone walls away. In addition, the double-arched stone windows were too small to let much of the sunlight outside warm the room , an d therefore , the parlour room rested in a chilly, dimmed light. The room was sparsely furnished with a French Gregorian striped sofa in cream and navy blue, two matching armchairs, an impressively large writing desk in aged wood, and a rounded Bombe commode.
    Oliver had the faint impression that the parlour room was not c ommonly used and that the furniture had until recently been covered by sheets for protection against dust and possible sun damage.
    Still, neither the cheerless parlour room, nor the tardiness of his student could affect Oliver’s splendidly good mood because the day before, directly after his dinner, Oliver had been allowed to visit the old library and the Wycliffe book collection. It had not disappointed him. In fact, Oliver had spent the better part of the evening just walking slowly around in the quiet library and gently stroking the spines of the leather-bound books while reading the book titles.
    The late v iscount had clearly had the uncommon combination of extremely good taste, an eye for quality, and money to buy it with, Oliver had concluded. Apparently he had also been a rather avid collector , and the library held many thousands of volumes and many rare books that could not even be found at the libraries at the University of Oxford .
    The old library even smelled good, in that way that only century - old pulp paper blended with the scent of worn calfskin-leather and a certain amount of undisturbed dust could smell. It truly was a literary treasure in Oliver’s opinion , and every now and then when he had found an exceptionally rare edition , Oliver had let out a short cry of excitement. Time had simply flown by , and it had been well after midnight when Oliver finally returned to his bedchamber, nearly getting lost on his way in the dark castle.
    So despite my new and rather challenging , not to mention all - too - attractive , student, staying at the Wyclif fe Castle cannot be a complete mistake, Oliver thought cheerfully and played lazily with the quill from the inkstand while he waited for Winston. Besides, there is no harm in resting one’s eyes on a handsome student, I mean, is there really? And it is not like anything would ever happen between us anyway …
    He was perfectly wrong in his conclusion, but at the moment, Oliver was obliviously unaware of it.
    In fact, for the first time in many months, he felt rather happy and content. Ever since Adam had left him , there had seemed to be a shadow cast over his ordinary and everyday life, but now it felt like that something was about to change.
    Oliver had been Adam’s lover for almost tw o years ; however , when Adam’s time at the university was coming to an end, Adam had rather insensitively informed Oliver that he did not intend to continue their relationship. He was leaving Oxford for Birmingham , and apparently he also fully intended to leave his “youthful mistakes”, as Adam cold-heartedly had called their relationship, behind him too. His decision had left Oliver miserable and strangely hollow, because although he had always had t he troubling suspicion that Adam’s feelings for him had been somewhat lesser than his own , he had nevertheless always imagined that he would join him in Birmingham when his history thesis was finished.
    Not that Oliver had imagined that they would share a household together or some immature fantasy like that, but he had still thought that they would at least be together.
    Clearly