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"Jon, can you..." Martin broke off their kiss and Jon looked at him breathlessly. "The thing. We talked about it."
"The...ravishing," Jon said. He hadn't read the sort of book Martin had mentioned when they'd talked about this, but he'd read enough classics with people being ravished in them. And surely they offered a better quality of ravishment.
He took Martin by the waist and pushed him hard against the cottage wall. "Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness," he began in a low voice, kissing Martin's throat.
"Keats, Jon?" Martin said. "That's not exactly what I meant."
"I thought you liked Keats," Jon said, a little sulkily.
"I do! It's just a bit more high brow than I'm looking for."
Jon frowned, trying to remember what Martin had said. Some character called Rupert Campbell-Black, something about horses.
"Martin, none of that made any sense. Why, if I'm a wealthy, handsome landowner would I feel the need to go around ravishing random villagers? Surely there are lots of people who would be perfectly delighted to sleep with me. I don't understand my motivation here."
"Don't get all community theatre on me," Martin said. "It's not deep. You go around the countryside ravishing people just because you can."
"It seems like far more trouble than it's worth, and quite honestly doesn't make any economic or social sense, assuming these are my tenants and I'm relying on them for labour," Jon said.
Martin sighed. "Look..."
"Wouldn't something else be better?" Jon tried. "I played Angelo at university. "Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue..."
"Oh for god's sake," Martin said, rolling his eyes. "Wait here." He left the room. Jon heard the scrape of a chair and followed him out into the hallway.
He found Martin standing on a chair examining the floor to ceiling bookcase. Jon hadn't paid it much attention; it was stuffed with the sort of paperbacks you read on holiday and happily leave behind when you go.
"Here we go," Martin said, pulling a dusty book off the top shelf. He turned to Jon with a little grin, which Jon resentfully found rather cute.
"Read this," he said, getting off the chair and thrusting the book at Jon. Jon looked at it.
"Riders," he said. "Not exactly subtle, is it?"
"Just read it," Martin said. "Go on. I'll make you a cup of tea."