His Paladin: An MM Contemporary Romance
Page 3
“I will,” I said, taking the brochure from his hand. Our fingers lightly brushed against each other, a little jolt of electricity lancing through my hand at the contact.
“Thanks,” I said, again, just as quickly as before, now desperate to get out of here before I made a complete fool of myself.
“Hey, anytime, Quinn,” Raine replied, giving me another glimpse of that warm, disarming smile, and my insides turned into gelatin.
I nodded, tried to smile back, and practically sprinted out of the store. I immediately started my car, burning with embarrassment, trying to get the butterflies in my stomach under control.
At any rate, aside from being...distracted by the owner, Lochmire and this whole LARP thing honestly sounded interesting enough for me to at least read up more about it. And if it wound up being a bust, well, at least my trio would have a story to tell for the rest of their lives.
And you’d get to see Raine again, my treacherous brain reminded me gleefully, and even though I tried, once again, to stamp it out, the memory of his smile refused to leave me.
4
Raine
Roux shook his head, giving me a sidelong glance as Quinn walked out of the door. “You think he thought it was paintball or something?”
My blood was still pounding loudly in my ears. “Oh my God,” I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut for a solid ten seconds. “Did you see him?”
“He was super pretty, like a prince!” Nicole agreed, nodding, proving my excellent taste was hereditary.
“I’m shocked you didn’t faint so he could scoop you up in his arms,” Roux said teasingly.
“After that first intro?” I scoffed. “He would totally have let me hit the floor.”
Roux laughed, waving dismissively. “Nah. He seemed like too nice a guy to do that. Quiet, though.”
“Not too quiet,” I said, maybe a little too defensively for a guy I had just met, and Roux gave me a knowing grin rolling his eyes. I flushed.
“Anyway, since he’s absolutely never coming back, as he probably thinks we’re a bunch of weirdos playing pretend dress-up in the woods --”
“We are,” Roux said, still grinning.
“-- would you mind giving me a hand getting this new studded leather up on display?” I finished, before he could say anything else. Roux nodded and stepped on over, bringing the large box on the counter with him. Between the two of us, we managed to get it open, lifting out the first set of cuirasses, the pleasant scent of cured leather filling the room.
“Wait, Dad!” Nicole called, scrambling over. She pointed at the opposite rack. “You shouldn’t put them where the regular clothes are. It’s hard to tell if they’re armor that way.”
“Good point.” I turned back to Roux, jerking my head towards where she had pointed. “You heard Princess Elora. Let’s get these next to the chainmail.”
We spent a solid couple of hours putting the leather armor up, until Nicole not-so-gently reminded me to eat some lunch. The three of us were still chowing down when the twins finally made their grand appearance, the two of them wearing matching dragon emblazoned t-shirts as well as a pair of toothy grins.
“New bracers for me, but I’ll happily wait ‘til you’re finished,” Kate said. Kurt held up a short LARPing weapon, the foam casing surrounding it split down the middle, huge chunks of it missing.
“And I need a new dagger. Also will happily wait ‘til you’re finished.”
I looked over at what remained of his weapon, frowning. “What the heck happened to it?”
The two of them sighed in unison. “A dog,” Kate said, sounding beyond tired. “Greg’s dog, to be precise.”
I raised my eyebrows at Kurt, who shrugged and shook his head. “The great leader of the Alliance thought it’d be a great idea to enchant my dagger with the ‘blessings of the wild.’ He didn’t explain that the ‘ritual’ actually involved giving it to his real life dog.”
“We were just talking about last week’s large scale battle earlier,” Roux said, mid-chew of his chicken caesar wrap. “A real bummer of a loss, but I heard you two were the big heroes of Juhanis from somebody else while I was there.”
They exchanged pleased glances. “Not really,” Kurt said, but he was smiling.
“It was just an idea we had,” Kate explained, “But I guess it was a good one. Tim leveled up his wizard right before the battle.”
“We had a bad feeling about the Alliance’s chances,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. “for obvious reasons.”
Kate nodded. “So we asked Tim if he could learn the Portal spell. And then,” she continued, with a smug grin. “We stole the Dragon Relics from the Alliance’s fort.”
Roux’s eyebrows shot up. I openly gaped at the two of them, and Nicole gave a horrified gasp.
“You stole the Relics from the Alliance? From your own side?” Roux asked, clearly awed. The twins nodded.
“Yep,” said Kurt, “and good thing we did, too. As soon as the Yaltinians cut everybody down on the battlefield, big bad Tiberion had them search whatever was left of the fort from top to bottom for them.”
“Nobody thought anything of a wizard and a couple of rogues fleeing the battlefield,” Kate said. “And once we realized Tiberion had caught on, it was too late. Tim cast his Portal to a random location, and we chucked all five Dragon Relics in.”
“That way if we got caught by the Yaltinians,” Kurt continued. “Which we totally did, Tiberion’s a really smart player -- we couldn’t tell them where the Relics were, since even we didn’t have any idea.”
This was unusually altruistic for Lex and Lox, the twins' infamously self-serving pair of rogues. “Neither of you tried to duck into the Portal yourselves?” I asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
Kate shook her head. “Portal only works for one person or up to five objects. The relics seemed more important.”
“That was so brave,” Nicole said solemnly, her eyes shining, the remnants of her ham and cheese sandwich all but forgotten.
“Thank you, Princess,” Kurt replied with a short bow and a wink. “It’s good to know our efforts are appreciated.”
“Even though we’re currently rotting in Tiberius the Mad King’s dungeon for our trouble,” Kate said, grinning. “So, if you’ve got the time next event, please give us a rescue, if you wouldn’t mind.”
There was a glint in Roux’s eyes I wasn’t quite sure I liked. “We might,” he said, slowly, looking straight at me. “But we might be too busy since Lochmire could actually --”
I gave him a swift kick under the table. He stifled a grunt, giving me a sour look. It was far too early to let them in on Lochmire potentially being in the running for the final event.
“Since Lochmire needs a lot of work,” I finished for him, plastering on my best smile, “We’ll probably be a little late to wherever the event happens to be.”
Kate’s brow furrowed. “What kind of work?”
“The forest trails are getting hard to see,” Nicole supplied helpfully, catching on, and I was eternally grateful my kid was so smart, “‘cause of all the leaves and stuff. We have to clear them off.”
Kurt and Kate exchanged frowns, but they didn’t ask any more questions.
Lunch wrapped up shortly after that, and I was able to get the twins’ equipment requests in short order. While Kate tried on some new bracers and Kurt was busy choosing a new dagger, I carefully slid the envelope behind the counter to keep it out of sight.
After the twins left, I immediately offered Roux an honest apology for kicking him under the table, which he accepted after a moderate amount of pouting. There was a scant remainder of activity as a few more people entered, purchasing some equipment or asking for quick repairs. At closing time, Nicole and I said our goodbyes to Roux, picked up our traditional feast of McDonald’s, and headed home. One brief rewatch of several songs from Frozen, a quick bath, and half a book later, Nicole was successfully tucked in and ready to sleep as I closed the door behind to her room.
The letter from the Society. The chance to make Lochmire the place it deserved to be. And then I thought about Quinn, the impressive swell of his biceps, the perfect curl of his lips I had seen in that half-second smile...
I shifted a little under my comforter, suddenly uncomfortably warm. I swallowed and made a valiant effort to bring my attention back to whatever was on the television for about ten minutes.
It didn’t work.
“Ah, hell,” I muttered to myself, and slid a hand underneath my boxer shorts, my fingertips skimming down the planes of my stomach. I bit down hard on my lower lip to stifle a surprised gasp when I wrapped my hand around my cock: I was already somehow half-hard just thinking about the guy.
What kind of character would he pick, I wondered, stroking myself slowly, if he ever actually made a return visit to Lochmire? I pictured him in one of those new sets of studded leather armor I’d put up on the display racks earlier today: Quinn dressed as a dashing rogue, with a quick blade and a silver tongue, something alluringly dark and dangerous hiding behind a debonair smile, urgent, brutal kisses in the dark, quick trysts in the shadows, his hand clapping over my mouth to keep me from making a sound. Or -- my breath caught in my chest for a moment, my hand moving faster -- he could be a barbarian, fierce and wild, clad in scant, thick furs that left little to the imagination, a giant war-axe in his hands. He wouldn’t be shy about letting me know how much he wanted me, his kisses rough enough to bruise, my back bit against bark as he shoved me against a tree, his strong hands roving all over my body --
I rutted shamelessly into my fist, now, caught up in my own fantasy, the muscles in my stomach clenching and jumping with every pulse, the hot coil of tension steadily building inside me nearly ready to snap. Not yet, not yet. I forced myself to slow down, groaning in frustration as I twisted my hand slightly at the end of my strokes, sending a new burst of hot sensation throughout the length of my cock. My other hand roved freely over my chest, my stomach, light and teasing, until I cupped my balls in my palm, easing the ache there just a little.
No, he wouldn’t be a rogue, or a barbarian. He’d be something different.
He’d be clad in shining, silver armor, a tall shield in one hand, a longsword in the other. Fearless, focused, slaying foes left and right, his strength elegant and precise. A true warrior. A savior. A paladin, righteous fury and sweet caring combined. And once everything that dared to crawl out of the shadows to strike him was gone, he’d turn to me, his blue eyes locked onto mine, and he’d --
A whine escaped past my lips. I felt so hot I quickly threw off the blankets, the cool night air heavenly against my overheated skin. My pace was fast once again, copious amounts of dripping precum giving my strokes a new glide, easing the burn of friction on my skin. I felt my pulse pounding in my cock, my hips thrusting desperately into my first.
He’d turn to me, gorgeous and sweaty with exertion, the sunlight glinting off his armor, offer me his hand. I would take it tightly in mine, feeling the solid strength of him, the warmth of his fingers even beneath the gauntlet. We’d drift closer and closer together, until we were barely an inch apart, staring into each other’s eyes, too afraid of the overwhelming connection between us to even breathe.
It would be just one kiss, Quinn finally closing the space between us, warm and gentle, building into a tingling spark that would spread over every inch of me, my chest aching with the sweetness of it, until we pulled apart, out of breath. And then he’d smile at me, soft but unsure, as though he’d almost forgotten how --
I came with a long groan that rolled out from the bottom of my chest, my body shuddered uncontrollably with the force of my orgasm. My hand was covered thickly in my own seed, so much of it that I had even spilled against my stomach. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, drowning me, sparks flying in front of my eyes, every inch of me trembling until I was finally still.
I threw my arm over my eyes, panting. God damn. I’d have to head over to the bathroom to clean up, but right now I was dazed, feeling almost lightheaded in the afterglow.
Well, that last part was certainly a fantasy. Even though I was alone, I felt my face prickle with embarrassment, trying to shove the image of my dream Paladin-Quinn’s smile from my mind to no avail.
I should’ve stuck with the barbarian one.
5
Quinn
September was always a rough month for me, some years more than others. She had always loved the fall, watching the colors turn, the leaves falling from the trees like rain. I kept the radio off as I drove on a route so familiar to me now it stung, the light scent of the flowers I had bought -- daffodils, her favorite -- wafting through my car.
As I drove, the traffic light and the weather clear, I rolled yesterday’s events around in my head, particularly my unusual introduction to Lochmire Castle. I had sifted through Raine’s offered brochure some, read a little more on the website. While the whole LARPing thing was definitely outside of my wheelhouse, I couldn’t find any fault with the level of enthusiasm and commitment Roux and Raine brought to it, nor could I object to the general idea of people getting together to have a good time. It all sounded at least interesting enough for me to seriously consider it for our mandatory fun day, as it would likely be a much more entertaining outing than my default choice of the local bowling alley. And I’d admit I found the theatrical aspects of it particularly intriguing. I’d never been a theater kid in high school or anything like that, but the idea of dressing up, pretending to be someone I wasn’t sounded, well, fun.
I took the next turn, driving carefully up the short dirt road, pulling into the nearly empty parking lot. I picked up the flowers from the passenger’s seat, inhaling deeply, tasting the crisp fall air as I closed the car door behind me.
I walked across a well-worn path, leaves crunching under my feet, passing by a myriad of gravestones that were all familiar to me now. Short, tall, plain and ornate, they stretched out across either side of the path like the scattered fall leaves, each one its little world unto itself: a monument to someone’s father, someone’s wife, someone’s son, a reassuringly permanent marker of the love someone still felt for them. Eventually, I stopped in front of one particular gravestone: a short, rectangular square of pristine marble, a simple inscription carefully carved into its cold stone.
Grace Quinn, beloved wife and daughter. Too well loved to ever be forgotten.
“Hey Grace,” I said. My vision blurred, and I wiped at my eyes -- it never, never got easier. “Got something a little different to tell you today.”
I shifted in the dirt, staring at my shoes. “You know my trio, right? Perez, Nguyen, and Miller? Well, we’ve got a mandatory fun day coming up. And, you know me, I had a hard time coming up with anything the three of them would consider fun. Sort of dragged my feet trying to come up with anything at all. I think I lucked out, though. It’s a little weird, but I think you’d like it, too.”
I pictured her smile, bright and beaming, the sunlight flitting through her hair. Yeah, she would have definitely gotten a kick out of this.
“It’s this place called Lochmire Castle. They sort of do this theater kind of thing, pretend they’re a knight or a wizard, something like that. Then they act with each other, like tell some kind of story everyone makes up together. And then they whack each other with foam swords. Or throw beanbags.” I smiled. “Like I said, sort of weird. Hard to explain, really. But it sounds...it sounds like it could be fun.”
A thick lump had formed in my throat while I was speaking, and I tried my best to swallow past it. “Not a hundred-percent sure how it all works, but I did some reading. I think a live exercise would help me understand it better, though. Trial by fire, kind of. So I�
��m thinking about making another visit there soon.”
I paused to draw in a long, shaky breath. “I miss you,” I told her, my voice hoarse. “I miss you so, so much. I wish you were here with me again all the time.” I clenched my fists, trying to get myself back under control. It didn’t work.
“You didn’t deserve this,” I heard myself whisper, as though I was actually somewhere else, far away. “You loved life. You wanted to see the world.” Pain swelled inside me like a knife, sharp and jagged, piercing into my chest, the old agony of regrets and guilt that were years and years old, now. “It shouldn’t have been you. It never should have been you.”
A chilly breeze cut through the air, gently tousling my hair. It was enough to get me to stop, pull me back to the present, out of the dark pit of my thoughts. Gradually, I relaxed my hands, waited until my fingers stopped shaking.
And then, despite myself, I felt a smile stretched itself across my face. “I really wish you were here so you could see me dressed all up in armor,” I said to her, remembering the tinkling notes of her laughter, “when I take the trio to Lochmire.”
For a long moment, I simply stood there in silence, letting the memories of her swirl around me: the smell of her expertly cooked dinners, the softness of her skin, her favorite jokes and those warm, lazy mornings we spent nestled together. Grace had been, and always would be, a part of me. At last, I knelt down, kissed my fingers, and pressed them against her gravestone. “I’ll be back soon, Grace. Let you know how it goes.”
I set the flowers down atop her gravestone, breathing in the scent of them one last time. Slowly, I stood up again, blinking back the last of my tears.
“Dad, look!” chirped a small, familiar voice.
Surprised, I turned around, and was met with an incredulous, wide-eyed Raine, Nicole eagerly tugging at his red and gold jacket.