Vin du Pays

Wensleydale

           Durand felt sick.

He couldn't tell if the current state of his stomach had anything to do with the bumpy carriage ride. He stared out the window, hoping that it might quell the nausea.

"Are you worried about me again, Durand?" Lia de Beaumont, his partner in both love and work, placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see her grinning at him. "It's not as if I haven't met with Elizabeth before."

"Her Majesty, you mean," Durand corrected. "I believe she requires some degree of decorum, being the Queen and all." He returned the grin, trying to save face. "And I'm just feeling a bit sick, is all."

Lia chuckled, one of her endearing quirks that set her apart from most other noblewomen. "Queen Elizabeth pays formality no mind around me. And since when did carriages make you sick? This is one of the larger ones we've been in," Lia gestured at the fact that it had a bench on either side. Lia then moved to the other side and sat next to the only other passenger, a currently napping blonde man. "Also, it's not so rough a ride as to wake Maximilien here." 

Durand realized that his nausea had nothing to do with the carriage. 

It had been less than a week ago that in a fit of drunken loneliness, Durand found himself in a very compromising situation with his other business partner, Maximilien Robespierre. They had narrowly missed picking up Lia from that particular mission; fortunately, despite a torn cravat on top of being late, she hadn't said anything. 

Even so, the degree of discomfort at being in the same proximity as Robespierre since then was wearing Durand down. He wasn't looking forward to this mission at all; waiting in the carriage for Lia to further relations with Russia would have been bad enough, but with Maximilien in the same few feet of space as well...

Maybe he'd simply take a cue from Maximilien and fall asleep too.

"I'm not actually asleep, de Beaumont. Not anymore, anyway." 

Durand felt even sicker and turned back to the window. It was going to be a long night. 

The rest of the ride was fairly innocuous; Lia fussed with her formal attire, making sure every fold and crease in the crepe was just so, Robespierre went back to either resting his eyes or dozing, and Durand resumed staring at the scenery. The Russian countryside gave way to more finished roads, buildings and the magnificence of the Neva river. While the view was quite stunning at the moment with the setting sun bleeding into the clouds, it simply meant that Lia would be heading out very soon.

Within minutes, the carriage stopped at the gates of the recently finished Winter Palace, a huge expanse of Russian decadence. 

"Ah, and to think that a woman is in charge of all of that right now...something that currently sets this country apart from France, you know." As a rule, Lia generally got along well with the other countries' queens that France had been dealing with, but she had a fondness for Queen Elizabeth that hadn't been matched by any other ruler. Save for King Louis, of course. 

"Ah, but you still serve under a King, my dear. We are part of Le Secret du Roi, not Le Secret de la Reine," Durand said emphatically. "Is everything ready for your party tonight?" He was hoping that something would come up and postpone this mission, that they could simply ride back to the inn, and that he wouldn't be stuck in the carriage alone with Maximilien for the next few hours. 

Lia smiled widely; her blue eyes shone with anticipation. "I am ready for a night of dancing, drinking, and diplomacy, Durand." She began to make for the carriage door, but suddenly stopped. "Please be more punctual this time, you two." At this Lia inclined her head towards her partner, and Durand prayed in his head that Lia wouldn't notice him blushing. "Maximilien." She nodded again at the supposed sleeping man, who tilted his head in return. Durand decided to use this exit as an excuse to get some fresh air, and opened the door for Lia, stepping out into the cool evening and guiding his lover to the ground. 

He bent down and managed a chaste peck on her forehead, and bid her godspeed. He watched her become one with the crowd of people, and fretted. 



Reluctantly stepping back into the coach, Durand swallowed his discomfort and started thinking about taking a coincidental three-hour nap until he noticed the Maximilien disappeared. 

This was certainly fortuitous, since that man was the sole reason for Durand's discomfort. He stretched out on one of the benches and rested his feet on the opposite seat. It shouldn't be too hard to get some shut-eye.

He was about to lose himself to rest when the door rattled and in came Robespierre with an unreadable expression.

Durand decided against talking to Maximilien, though Maximilien had no qualms with speaking to him. 

"We'll be moving soon. We can't stay here and block the way. The groom seems to know a place where we can stay for a short duration." The even cadence of Robespierre's voice betrayed no emotion or underlying messages. Of course, this was nothing new for Maximilien Robespierre-the man was no-nonsense. 

The carriage lurched ahead suddenly, causing Robespierre to lose his balance. He nearly fell on Durand, but managed to catch himself with his arms outstretched on the back wall. This was still quite close to Durand, who was practically face-to-face with his colleague now. Caught off guard, they both ended up staring at each other for what seemed like a painfully long time; thankfully, Maximilien recovered his balance and sat in the opposite corner, leaving only a subtle whiff of lavender. 

Durand waited for him to say something, but he simply rummaged through his belongings under the seat and cracked open a book. Typical. Durand placed his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. His laid-back posture was at odds with his anxiety, and after nearly ending up with his partner in his lap, Durand was very anxious. 



He must have managed to doze off after all, for the next time Durand opened his eyes the coach was empty. He noted that it wasn't moving either, and when he looked outside, all he saw was brick wall. When he opened the door, he could tell the groom had parked them in an alley. Unfortunately, he saw no sign of the horses, the groom, or even Maximilien. Someone had to stay with the carriage, or else the few belongings might be stolen. 

Sighing, Durand made his way back into the carriage. While he was glad that Robespierre was gone, he couldn't understand why the groom would take leave with the horses, rather than tend to them with the coach. It wasn't going to be a long stay, anyway. Durand couldn't go back to sleep for safety's sake, and he had planned on visiting the taverns during this mission. Fuming and rummaging through his belongings, all he had brought with on the trip were his weapons. He was about to search through whatever Lia brought when he spied Robespierre's book left out on the seat. He picked it up and began reading.

He had only gotten as far as "The Social Contract by Jean-Jacques Rousse-" when the door was nearly ripped off the hinges and an extremely angry Maximilien stormed in. 

"Uncouth jesters, insolent fools..." Robespierre continued muttering unintelligibly; lost in anger, he didn't even notice Durand initially. After much fuming, he sat down and saw that Durand was awake. "I apologize, but these Russians are insufferable! I ask if they have any wine, and they offer something called bread-wine." He grimaced at this. "It was the worst drink I've encountered! Then they charged me double what I normally pay at a bar! Such trash! I-"

"I believe that in Poland, they called that bread-wine something like 'vodka'; it was very strong, from the little I remember after imbibing it. Also, here's your book back-now that you've returned, I can finally stretch my legs." Durand placed the book on the space next to Robespierre and stood up, ready to walk out again-except at this moment, Maximilien stretched his own legs across the aisle, blocking the single exit. 

"Durand, you haven't been acting like yourself lately."
Durand glowered and tried to make his way past Maximilien. "I think drinking beer is pretty characteristic for myself. You're the one not acting like yourself-how much of this 'bread-wine' did you actually have?" 

Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, Robespierre jumped to his feet to face Durand. "I start talking, and you accuse me of being drunk? You've been moping about, afraid to even look at me! Don't tell me it has to do with that one night a week ago!"

Durand raised his hand as if to continue arguing, and then sat down. "This wouldn't be an issue if I wasn't hiding it from Lia." 

"Come now, we were only at fault for being late!" Maximilien responded, adding, "...besides, she does far more during her diplomatic missions."

"That's part of her job!" Durand retorted angrily, ready to defend his lover's honor. 

Maximilien sat down across from Durand, and processed this for a moment before speaking. "Did she tell you that?" He stared at his colleague expectantly.

Durand shifted his gaze to the floor. "...sort of."

"Still, I see no problem with what transpired between us, then. Unless you have another reason for your discomfort? I thought that after the past few years of us three working together, we would be past any awkwardness." Robespierre said all of this so matter-of-fact that Durand felt somewhat silly for bringing it up in the first place. "At any rate, I've been aware of what must be a frustrating problem within your relationship with Lia de Beaumont."

All this talk raised Durand's suspicions that Maximilien had only a 'taste' of that Russian alcohol. "Exactly what are you talking about?"

"Only that most inns' walls are thin enough that I can tell when you two are only using the bed for sleeping in. And recently, this seems to be happening every night."

It was true what Robespierre was saying, but he was being awfully forward about it. He had to be somewhat intoxicated. 

By this point, Maximilien had bridged the gap between them, catching Durand off-guard. "How much of my book did you read, anyway?" A crooked smile crept across Maximilien's face. 

Durand leaned away, but couldn't get any further back than the back of the seat. What Robespierre said seemed to be true, but Durand was still reluctant--until his colleague placed a hand on his thigh and he realized that part of his worries were related to what Robespierre thought of that shared night last week. Now that he knew Maximilien's opinion on the matter, Durand felt a bit better; he snaked his arm around his friend's back and brought him close. Robespierre had to regain his balance, and ended up with his knees on the seat; to kneel comfortably, he had to straddle Durand, who had pulled down Maximilien's mouth and drew him to his own. 

"You taste like alcohol, you know," Durand said, amicably mocking Robespierre's complaint about their last encounter. Before Maximilien could form a response to this though, Durand had already occupied his mouth. 

Robespierre was right about one thing-Durand had been frustrated. He found their 'book discussion' last week to be quite stimulating, and the turn of events in this conversation aroused him all too easily. It also helped that Robespierre's hand found a way into his pants. 

In addition to groping in Durand's trousers, Maximilien had picked up the book with his free hand and managed to break free from the kissing to huskily recite Rousseau's "Social Contract".

"Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains. One thinks himself the master of others-" Durand began concentrating on Maximilien's neck, alternating between biting and kissing, causing momentary pause. "One thinks himself the master of others, and still remains a..aaahh..."

The book was ignored for the moment, with Durand at fault for the distractions. He took the tome away from Robespierre's weakened grasp and quietly set it on the seat beside them. "I hate to interrupt, but I think it best if we covered the windows." 

Maximilien smoothly disengaged himself from the embrace and made way to the door, where he fussed with the curtains near those seats. The other side was facing a wall, so Durand slowly began removing his coat and boots, and looked up to find that Maximilien was one step ahead and working with the buttons on his vest.

"I suppose it also best if I ask where the groom is?" 

Robespierre's face held a smug expression. "He's taking care of his horses at the nearby inn's stable, and I gave him a few extra coins to take care of himself. He shan't bother us for a while." He threw off his vest. "Where were we, again?" 

Albeit slimmer, Maximilien managed to push Durand back to the other side of the carriage, pressing his mouth against the other's, forcing in his tongue. The impact against the back wall shook the coach and stung a little; Durand took little notice as he fumbled with the buttons on his own vest, a difficult task considering all that was going on.

Maximilien eventually saw this struggle and drew his head back. "You may as well take your shirt off as well, seeing how long this is taking you." He removed Durand's hair tie, and ran his fingers through the freed tresses.

"Dammit, you wouldn't know how much of an ordeal it is to get my hair back up!" Durand threw off the vest, and sternly moved Robespierre's hand down so that he could lift off his shirt.

"You wouldn't know how much of an ordeal it is to wait for you to get undressed." Durand had just gotten the shirt over his head when Maximilien started trailing fingertips and lips over Durand's now-exposed chest. 

"Why don't you remove your shirt?!" Durand frantically tried to get rid of the fabric that was constricting his arms and covering his face while Maximilien continued his ministrations. 

"I don't want to." Either through pity or impatience, Robespierre helped Durand remove the rest of his shirt and flung it to the side. Durand attempted to remove Maximilien's top, but the other man roughly turned him around and pressed against his back. "I can't have you interrupting my reading." For a brief moment the weight was lifted off Durand's back, but Maximilien returned and continued running his fingers around his partner's flesh. "As long as a people is compelled to obey, and obeys, it does well; as soon as it can shake off the yoke, and shakes it off, it does still better; regaining its liberty by the same right..."

Robespierre continued his recitation, but Durand stopped paying attention as soon as the fingers made their way back into his pants, finally stopping to encircle his swollen cock. He gasped and dug his own outstretched fingers into the carriage wall and curtains, arching his back ever so slightly. Maximilien continued with the reading in one hand and stroking Durand's hardness in the other. 

"...the social order is a sacred right which is the basis of all other rights..." Durand doubted it was Rousseau's words that made him feel so good. He couldn't tell with Robespierre, who was almost imperceptibly grinding into his body. "...founded on conventions. Before coming to that, I have to prove just what I have asserted."

Without warning, Maximilien stopped. Durand turned his head to find him hunkered down looking under the seat, rummaging through Lia's belongings. The book was closed on the seat. 

Durand was about to object to his colleague for building him up and then leaving him so abruptly when Maximilien looked up, smirking almost obnoxiously. He had found Lia's toiletry bag, and pulled out the glass bottle filled with lotion. "You don't have any objections, do you?"

This wasn't particularly conflicting for Durand, seeing how Lia was the adventurous type in and out of bed. Her favor with the queens especially was not simply due to her social graces, and her tools of the trade included more than just diplomatic know-how. He did think it was funny how alcohol affected Maximilien.

Lost in that thought, Durand made no protest when Robespierre pushed down his trousers. Slender fingers dug into Durand's hips, pulling him back, so that his ass rested against Maximilien's stiffness. Durand let his head rest against the wall and braced himself as his partner guided a slick cock inside. 

The intense sensation nearly overwhelmed him, and Durand dug his fingers back into the wall without even noticing; he jerked away as if to escape the penetration. Robespierre drew his hips back, keeping him still for a moment. Durand felt Maximilien's breath burn on his ear, heavy exhalations filling the silence. 

Slowly, Maximilien started rocking back and forth, thrusting into the heat. He let one of his hands drop from Durand's hip to his erection, eliciting a noise from the man halfway between a whimper and a moan. Durand dug his fingers deeper into the wall, losing himself in the pleasure as Robespierre continued moving his hand over the shaft.

The carriage rocked as the movements grew more vigorous. Durand heard the springs squeak, but didn't comprehend anything but the fact that he couldn't hold out much longer. He groaned as his body took over and lurched forward, releasing the built intensity and hot liquid. 

Durand wanted to collapse then and there, but Maximilien held tight, plunging deep. His breathing quickened, and he thrust harder and more erratically. He suddenly spasmed and fell against Durand's back, letting his hands drop to his side. 

They stayed that way for a moment, taking in the air. Durand up against the wall, Maximilien's head not quite on his shoulder, their bodies together. Durand could somehow feel Robespierre's rapid pulse on his back over his own beating heart. 

"I hope you have some spare handkerchiefs packed." Maximilien extricated himself from their rendezvous and was wiping his hand on his own tissue, pants already pulled up. 

Durand suddenly realized that he had to clean up a bit more than Robespierre and grimaced. Even drunk, Maximilien was still a dick. 



The ride back was much easier on Durand. The sex had sobered up Robespierre enough so that he stayed in the carriage and read while Durand gallivanted about to pass the rest of the time. The only downside to this was that Maximilien sprayed his lavender cologne about in an attempt to freshen up the coach, and the cloying scent made it very difficult to breathe. They road back with the windows propped open, the crisp air refreshing compared to the powerful lavender. 

Lia was waiting for them when they arrived promptly at midnight, and plopped unceremoniously next to Durand. "I do hope you two managed to keep yourselves busy."

Robespierre continued reading.

See artwork: Bumpy Ride and Breadwine.