by Ariana Nash
Trey cared little for rules. He wasn’t planning on sticking around, and by the time he next came back around to Ashford, they’d likely have forgotten about any indiscretions. Messengers were always wanted. If Trey fucked Conor right here against the wall, it would probably be overlooked. Besides, there were others here not nearly as discreet. “We should go somewhere…” Conor whispered, his breath hot in Trey’s ear.
“Right here is just fine.” Trey plastered himself against Conor’s body, relishing the feel of male hardness against his own, and not just his cock. Trey had been right, Conor’s body was a map of hard muscle and lean strength, honed from physical work.
“We’re doing this… right here?” Conor asked, sounding equal parts appalled and aroused.
Trey freed one of Conor’s wrists and dropped his hand to press against Conor’s impressive erection. The male groaned and tilted his hips, inviting more of Trey’s harsh caress. Trey’s own arousal was raging hard and demanding. It had been too long since he’d enjoyed the personal company of another. His last bedmate had been Nye—his Order leader—and that… that hadn’t ended well.
“You ever fucked in public?” Trey whispered, nipping at Conor’s jaw. “The thrill of almost getting caught?” He rubbed Conor’s cock through his trouser fabric, shortening the male’s every breath. “I’ll get you off right here. You can bet we’re being watched. What do you say we give them a show?”
“Shit," Conor’s grip found Trey’s shoulder and dug in. “Venali,” he hissed.
Trey leaned outward and scanned the crowd, initially not seeing what had Conor spooked. And then when he did see him, he couldn’t look away fast enough.
Venali's green eyes fixed on Trey’s from across the room. Sprawled in a chair, legs spread, Venali smiled and tipped his cup, as though giving them permission to continue their display just for him.
“He’s making me nervous. I can’t…” Conor breathed.
Maybe they should take this somewhere else, but if they did that, Venali would have won, and it seemed every time Trey met or spoke with Venali, Venali won.
Trey caught Conor’s jaw and tore his attention from Venali. Conor’s kissable mouth quirked. His hand found Trey’s ass, drawing him close so there was nothing between them but the press of too many clothes. His fingers dug in deep, catching Trey’s breath. Now this was more like it. Trey kissed him hard, driving his tongue in. Conor’s rumbling purr strummed Trey’s lust. It had to be the purr, because the lust couldn't be from how Venali’s gaze rode Trey’s back while Trey’s hand rode Conor’s cock.
The male panted beneath him, coming undone, and Trey was more than happy to unravel him some more. He’d have preferred to go down on him with his mouth and tongue, but even Trey had some limits, and while he didn’t have to live with these people and see them every day, Conor did. He may not appreciate a public blow come the morning once the wine had worn off.
Conor dropped his head back, inviting Trey’s mouth to his neck. “Alumn, you feel so good.”
Trey rewarded the words with a purr of his own.
Venali’s attention heated Trey to his bones. He stole a glance, and there he was, still lounged in the chair. Someone leaned close to him, speaking in his ear, but Venali still watched. Trey roamed his gaze down the male’s chest, beyond where his waistcoat bunched, to where the male’s hard rod of a cock pushed against his crotch.
Lust sparked down Trey’s back. He bit his lip to keep from groaning. It wasn’t enough. Fuck, Venali was hot. But the male’s “complicated” dick was absolutely off-limits. Trey needed easy. Not… whatever Venali was.
Trey plundered Conor’s mouth hard. His heart tried to hammer its way out of his chest. His cock throbbed, needing attention, either from his own hand, Conor’s, or to be thrust into some other part of Conor, but despite Trey’s inhibitions, he wasn’t about to turn the male around and fuck him here. Even drunk, he had some control left. But he could get him off. And Venali could fucking watch all he liked.
Unthreading Conor’s pant ties, Trey eased his hand inside, grateful to find Conor’s crown slick with pre-seed. The male swore in his ear, clutched Trey close, and shuddered his pleasure. Conor’s hips twitched, his body’s demands clear. Trey smothered Conor’s groan with a kiss, and sealed his fingers and thumb around Conor’s pulsing cock, stroking him off with smooth, rhythmic pumps. Venali was fucking watching and some animal part of Trey needed him to.
Conor’s breaths stuttered. Trey smothered his mouth, thrusting his tongue in as the male came, his seed hot and wet against his palm. The kiss was messy and rough, a tangle of tongues and teeth, but Alumn, he tasted sweet. Conor’s hand had found its way to Trey’s hair and bunched it in a fist some time in all the madness. He let it drop now and rested his head back, swallowing hard. “Did he see?”
Trey furtively checked over his shoulder. Venali had gone. Maybe he’d gone off somewhere to deal with his own hard-on. Disappointment cooled Trey’s lust, and then sparked alive the feeling that he was a fucking idiot to seek any kind of attention from an attention whore like Venali.
“Maybe. He’s gone now.”
Conor’s fingers groped for Trey’s trouser laces.
“Whoa there…” Trey nudged his cheek with his nose and whispered, “I’m good.”
“You don’t want to?”
The hurt in his voice made Trey straighten and study his face. Emotive brown eyes told a raw story of wanting. Trey stroked a thumb across his cheek. “I do, but let’s go somewhere…”
“Come back to my place with me?” Conor asked, nipping at Trey’s bottom lip.
The offer was tempting. He’d slept alone enough. Waking next to a lover was one of the few joys left in life. But there was an art to the one-night seduction, and Conor had a need in his touch, his kiss, that spoke of wanting more. And more was not on the table. It couldn’t be.
“Is it Venali?”
“What? No. Why would he—”
A tinny bell chimed. It wasn’t loud, but its pitch sliced through the music. The crowd erupted like a flock of startled birds.
“Shit!” Conor grabbed Trey’s hand, yanked him out of the nook, and shoved him into a tatty old armchair.
“What—”
“Act natural.” Conor plucked a book from a nearby shelf, dropped into the chair beside Trey’s, and apparently found his book absolutely fascinating, despite it being upside down.
“Alador,” a chipper voice said from the doorway. “Lovely to see you here, sir.”
Trey jerked his head up.
The Order leader entered the “library” and scanned the now sedate crowd apparently all lounged about reading or chatting quietly, certainly not drinking or fucking or dancing to music played by musicians who had apparently dissolved into the crowd as though they were never here.
Alador was as old as Ashford’s tree. He’d seen the rise of the dragons and their fall. As the first assassin, he’d practically invented the Order. He was also a father figure to most everyone in the Order.
Trey figured Alador’s sudden arrival was like having your pa find you with your cock in your fist.
“Fuck,” Trey whispered. Conor snickered. Spotting a ratty, half torn book on the floor, Trey scooped it up and pretended to be engrossed in its grubby, nonsensical pages. He didn’t even recognize the language.
Alador drifted about the room, talking to a few elves. Trey sunk lower in the chair, listening to the elder draw closer. At least Venali’s leaving had deflated more than his mood.
“Ah, Trey! It’s good to see you again. How is Eroan?”
Trey lowered the book and plastered a broad smile on his face. He stood and dipped his head. “I’m honored to be here. Eroan is finding new worlds to explore.”
“Not too far, I hope.” The old elf’s brow crinkled. “We can’t have the dragons untethered for long.”
“Not far, no.”
The elder’s dark hair had been pinned back from his face, but allowed to flow free over his
shoulders and down his back. In his robes, he appeared very different now to how Trey had last seen him, wrapped in battle leathers and bristling with blades. But he hadn’t lost the hard, wily look of someone who had seen all the shit and was immune to surprise.
“I don’t believe I properly thanked you for your service,” Alador said. “Will you do me the honor of walking in the sun with me. Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
Alador dipped his chin and smiled, but hesitated a moment before moving on. In that moment between moments, Trey got the distinct impression Alador knew exactly what went on here, but for the sake of appearances, couldn’t get involved or be seen to condone it.
He moved on to a pair beside Trey and spoke to them about some new venture on Ashford’s outskirts. Trey slipped his hand in Conor’s and pulled him to his feet, hastily walking him from the library.
Conor quickly fell into fits of laughter. “Your face when he singled you out…” They hurried down a shadowy side corridor, heading the long route that Trey hoped would eventually wind its way back to the atrium.
“You could have warned me! What if he’d walked in on us earlier?”
Conor snickered and stumbled, clinging onto Trey’s arm. “He doesn’t always come around. Someone probably told him you were there.”
“Someone like Venali?” And Venali had chosen a time when Trey might have embarrassed himself in front of Ashford’s elder. Was that deliberate?
“Maybe. Venali is so far up Alador’s ass, it’s unreal.”
“What’s his problem—?” They rounded a corner and came upon Venali leaning a shoulder against the wall, hand tucked into a pocket, looking like he’d been there all night and had nothing to do with Alador’s unscheduled visit.
He held a cup craned in his gloved fingers at his side. A drunken gleam made his green eyes shimmer. “What’s my problem with what?”
“With me,” Trey said, ignoring how a shock of lust reignited his veins. Him just leaning there, with his perfect clothes and haughty persona. It made Trey want to punch him, or kiss him. Alumn, what would kissing him be like?
“Who said I had a problem with you?” Venali raised the cup and took a drink, making his graceful neck pulse.
He had to know exactly the effect he had on others, else why dress like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. He’d certainly known how to play to a crowd. Where were they now? All his Venali devotees?
“C’mon,” Trey ventured closer, overstepping personal space. “You’ve been on my ass since the moor. Was it because I showed those thieves some respect or something else?”
Venali tipped his cup toward Trey. “I am most definitely not on your ass.” Venali’s gaze skipped down and back up, no more than a flicker. He’d brazenly checked out Trey’s ass, undressing him with his eyes.
Heat touched Trey’s face. He hated this prick, he really did, but also wanted to jump his elegant bones and hate-fuck him so hard against the wall right now.
“C’mon…” Conor mumbled, taking a wide arc around Venali, treating him like a wild animal about to lunge at any second.
Trey followed, keeping Venali in the corner of his eye until passing him. Walking away wasn’t so hard. Even if another, more demanding part of his anatomy really was. The sentinel had some kind of direct link to Trey’s cock, making the damn thing dance with just a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
They’d almost made it to the next corner when Venali said, “A bit early to retire, isn’t it?”
Conor turned and glanced at Trey, an unspoken question on his lips, one that seemed to ask if Trey had heard the same invite in the sentinel’s tone.
Venali hadn’t moved. He still leaned against the wall, his ego taking up the entire corridor.
He finished his drink, pushed off the wall, and strode in the opposite direction. Considering how drunk he had to be, he carried a swagger that advertised a body designed from the ground up to either kill professionally or fuck like an animal, or both. Maybe he wasn’t drunk at all and the glimmer in his eyes was more predatory than intoxication. Alumn, what a thought that was.
Conor shrugged. “He, er… I mean, I guess we could follow… if you want to?”
What kind of game was Venali playing here? And if they went with him, what were they agreeing to exactly? Trey’s rampant desires had a good idea but common sense held him back. Kalie had said Venali was complicated. Trey was done with complicated. And yet…
There wasn’t a challenge Trey hadn’t beaten. Venali was just another challenge, something to distract him and make the next few days entertaining before he got back on the road.
Trey put one foot in front of the other and found it far too easy to trail after Venali, Conor in tow. They caught up with Venali’s long strides and walked in silence until reaching a door Trey assumed led to Venali’s residential space.
Venali flicked over the lock and entered, leaving the door open as an invitation. He lit a few oil lamps, filling the space with warm, flickering light. Clearly, Venali really was up Alador’s ass, because the room was easily five times the size of Trey’s allocated lodgings, with a wall of windows overlooking a swathe of darkness that during the day was likely the meadow outside Ashford. Now the wall of black reflected Venali’s cat-like grace as he crossed the room. He dumped his cup on a table and began unbuttoning his waistcoat. His gloved fingers worked quickly, precisely.
Conor clicked the door closed.
“Nice place,” Trey said, needing to say something.
Venali either didn’t hear or didn’t care to. He shrugged off the waistcoat and draped it over the arm of one of two large couches. He worked at the shirt next, but unbuttoned just the collar, letting it gape open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of more.
Trey still wasn’t entirely sure what this was. It was unlikely Venali had asked him here to talk. That left mostly sex. One of those options was more appealing than the other.
“You’re from Cheen?” Venali asked.
Trey narrowed his eyes. “How did you know—”
He swept his gloved fingers at his own neck, echoing the path of Trey’s tattoos. “You lost someone?” he asked, recognizing the significance of the marks.
“Someone.” Everyone.
Conor drifted about the large, open room, admiring mirrors and salvaged cupboards, tables and chairs. Trinkets of an old world, either repurposed or reconfigured into new items of furniture. Had Venali crafted them himself with those delicate fingers of his?
He still wore the gloves. Maybe to hide scars? Or maybe he just didn’t like to touch, although he’d been happy enough to touch those of his pride, like the male he’d kissed on arriving at the library.
“Where’s your partner?”
Venali looked up. “My what?”
“The male from the library?”
“You’ll have to narrow it down.” The sly smirk said he knew exactly who Trey referred to.
“The male you were pleased to see.”
“Oh, him. He’s not my partner.” He dismissed with a wave, and then took a corked bottle from a cupboard, along with three cups. He filled the cups, handing one out to Conor.
“Do you kiss all acquaintances like that?” Trey asked.
Venali’s hard mouth found its wry smile again. “Some.”
Clearing his throat, Trey loosened off his jacket, found a hook on the paneled wall, and hung it. When he turned, Venali was suddenly too close, holding out the drink.
“You have a new tattoo?” the sentinel asked.
“Thanks.” Trey took the drink and reeled from the question. How did Venali know Trey had recently added more ink? “I do.” He wasn’t saying anymore, not to Venali. Even Eroan didn’t know why Trey had added more dark swirls to the pattern climbing his neck. Some things didn’t need to be said aloud.
He tasted the drink, found it burned pleasantly on his tongue, and swallowed deep, letting it warm his veins. Conor had gotten comfortable on the couch, rolling up his sleeves and taking eager si
ps of his drink like he needed the courage.
“It must be a hard life, being a messenger,” Venali said, returning to the couch to look down at Conor.
Conor’s throat bobbed. He wilted some beneath Venali’s presence looming over him.
“Easier now dragons are tamed.”
“Still, there are other monsters hiding in the dark, like the two I killed. You’re welcome, by the way, for saving your life.”
Trey’s pride bristled. “I had it in hand.”
“You could have retired from the Order,” Venali went on. “Made a home with someone. Instead, you went back to the road. You like it.” Despite looking down at Conor, the words were clearly meant for Trey. “No ties, no roots, no strings.” He reached out and tipped Conor’s chin up. “I appreciate the freedom in that.”
Trey saw Conor’s pulse fluttering from across the room and felt his own race in empathy, or maybe it was racing because he imagined sitting on the couch with Venali standing over him, the male’s fingers stroking his jaw, his mouth a kissable promise.
Trey’s eager cock was already in the game and had been since Venali had watched him get Conor off in the library, but now it muddled Trey’s thoughts, made him see where this dance was going.
Venali combed his gloved fingers into Conor’s hair and the male leaned into the touch, lips parting. It was no happy accident Conor happened to be sitting and Venali standing, putting Conor at exactly the same height as Venali’s crotch, Conor’s mouth inches from the rod upsetting the line of Venali’s dark trousers.
Alumn, it was hot in here. Trey set his drink on the side and loosened off the laces tying his shirt closed. He missed something Conor said but heard Venali’s soft reply, “… safe.” Goddess, Conor looked at Venali like he’d sell his soul to the next dragon to suck Venali off right now. Alumn, Trey might do the same to watch them.
Watching so wasn’t Trey. But neither was Venali. He’d do this, to scratch an itch, but he wasn’t about to fawn over Venali like some besotted elfling just because Venali happened to look like sex-on-legs. He clearly had his head so far up his own ass he could lick his own balls.