by Megan Derr
Coroe didn't moan as he dove into breakfast, but it was a near thing. "You're my favorite."
Ashtor laughed. "I should hope so, given you bonded with him and dragged him halfway across the continent to our boring little corner of it."
"I will take boring," Riot said. "I thought I'd miss city life more, but I already love it here."
Menda's booming laughter echoed through the hall. "You? Preferring peace and quiet? The real question is how did you survive living in a city so long?"
"I didn't hate city life, you useless drunk," Riot replied. "I liked my job, and I was good at it. But I guess I'm still a farm boy at heart, just like you can't bear to be parted from your precious wine.
Scoffing, Menda finished his coffee and rose. "I was a fighter for years. Wasn't the wine that busted my knee, you know." He retrieved his cane from where he'd laid it on the bench beside him. "If your memory is already failing, I'll be happy to regale Roe here with tales of all the times I kicked your ass."
"I'm a mage, not a fighter! Putting me in those classes was stupid." Riot waved him off. "Go away or I'll remember all the times you got your ass thrown around the yard."
Menda walked off laughing, cane clacking until he was out of sight.
"Why were you in fighter classes?" Coroe asked.
Riot took a sip of his coffee. "My size, of course. Everyone was certain I'd be better off a fighter, no matter my magical ability. But I honestly cannot hold a sword worth a damn, and I hate all the armor. Hate it. I'm more than happy to have a handsome knight do all the hard work for me." He winked.
Coroe flushed, because that was definitely a teasing reference to last night.
Next to Riot, Ashtor laughed loudly. He clapped Riot on the back briskly, nearly toppling him into his remaining coffee. "Get on then, you two. Roe, show your man around the castle. We'll talk business tonight over dinner, but I think he will definitely make a fine addition to Tatterlay." He stood and walked off, calling to nearby men to attend him.
Coroe poured more coffee and finished off the last of his sweetbuns. "I see you're settling in fine. So you and Menda know each other?"
"Classmates. Spent the night together a few times, before he met Vinna and fell over himself trying to woo her. It was hilarious. He was telling me how two of the their children have gone off to school themselves now, one to be a mage, the other to be a fighter. The third apparently shows signs of taking after the wine-obsessed side of the family."
"Milli, yeah. I swear she already knows as much as him, and she's only twelve. You and Menda were lovers?" Coroe couldn't wrap his head around the thought. It was too weird.
Riot gave him a look, mouth quirked in amusement. "Does that bother you?"
"Bother? Not the way you're probably thinking," Coroe replied. "It's almost impossible to think of Menda with anyone but Vinna, for one. For two, it's like trying to picture my lover with my uncle." Coroe shuddered. "So I'd rather not think about it, thanks. Would you like the grand tour, now you've teased me in front of my boss and made me think gross things about Menda?"
Riot laughed and stood up, stretching as he did, presenting a delightful distraction to cleanse Coroe's mind. "Come here and I'll make it better."
Oh, Coroe was helpless to do anything but obey when Riot used that husky, full-of-promise voice. He abandoned his coffee and leapt neatly over the table, landing right beside Riot. "I'm here."
"So you are," Riot said, and threaded his fingers into the hair at Coroe's nape, eliciting shivers of delighted anticipation before he took Coroe's mouth. His kiss was warm and flavored of coffee, but far better at waking Coroe up. They were nearly the same height, Riot just the barest bit taller. He was big enough to be practically two of Coroe, but his touch was always gentle. The jewels in his wrists tingled wherever they brushed against Coroe's skin.
He drew back, touching his tongue to his top lip just to savor the taste of Riot that lingered there. Gods, it would never stop being the greatest thrill, how the jewels he wore matched Coroe's eyes. He was marked Property of Coroe, Besotted Knight and Coroe would do whatever it took to keep it that way.
"What's put your head up in the clouds?" Riot asked, mouth ticking up at the corner. As in everything, his tells were soft, quiet, and contained. More than once when they'd first met, Coroe had misread him as being upset, or at least indifferent. Now, he didn't know how he'd missed a thousand little clues.
Coroe laughed and twined his arms around Riot's neck. "I was just being a possessive ass, admiring for the ten thousandth time how good you look with your stones matched to me."
"I see," Riot said, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed his pleasure. "You're lucky you're cute when you're being a possessive ass."
"I'm cute when I do everything."
Riot's mouth curved into a positively evil grin. "I can think of a few times where 'cute' is not the word I'd use."
"Stop that!" Coroe let go and gave him a playful shove that didn't move Riot one bit. "I can't believe you teased me like that right in front of His Lordship."
"You made it too easy. Now are you going to show me around the grounds, or shall I keep teasing you right here where we have a growing audience?"
Coroe gave him a look, but offered a hand and thrilled quietly when Riot took it without hesitation. "Come on, then. I'll show you my favorite spot in the whole of Tatterlay." He grinned briefly. "It might even afford privacy for a bit of revenge on my mage."
"Sounds promising."
Coroe secured them a couple of horses, and then they were riding out into the quieter stretches of Tatterlay, filled with endless fields of crops, mills to grind many of them, silos, and more. It was a small territory, largely overlooked, but it was strong and thriving. When Coroe had first agreed to come, he'd worried he'd find it boring after a life filled with cities and merchant trains and school halls, but it was just busy enough to keep him engaged without bleeding him dry.
Past all the fields, houses, and sheds, the territory turned to forest that made good hunting and also provide a natural wall to mark Tatterlay, which ended where the forest stopped.
Coroe led them deep into it woods, along a path that barely qualified as such, the sound of a waterfall steadily increasing, until they spilled into a clearing, where a waterfall roughly as high as three men spilled into a beautiful pond of cool, crisp water. Coroe had found the place by chance one day, hunting a gray bear that had had somehow slipped through the wards from the Territories.
He'd returned on purpose another day, and many days since. It was his private retreat from the world, a place he'd shared with no one else.
"Come on," he said, dismounting and leaving his horse to happily graze.
Riot gave him a curious look, but remained silent and obediently followed as Coroe led him around the western edge of the pond, up some slippery rocks, and then behind them to walk along a tiny path between boulders, until they were able to slip behind the waterfall itself.
Where there was a little cave, which Coroe had painstakingly worked to make comfortable. He'd hauled in bedding, the hay to stuff it, blankets and pillows to make into a cozy nest. There were mage lights, a trunk of foodstuffs, another of extra bedding and changes of clothes, books and his old pipes, spare weapons. The makings of a chair were set neatly in one corner, the project about half done, the little table to go with it already finished, a twin to the one already by the bed.
"This is beautiful," Riot said, and at his gentle touch, the mage lights flared brighter, taking on a soft blue tone. "How did you do all this?"
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Coroe removed his boots, weapons, and out layers as he explained, and then climbed up to sprawl comfortably. "Come and join me."
"If you insist." Riot removed his own shoes and outer layers before joining him, immediately pulling Coroe into a kiss. He went easily when Coroe pushed him into the bedding and sprawled across him, hands coming up to cup and fondle Coroe's ass. "I see you've already memorized one of my weaknesses."
Riot's eyes glittered. "Maybe I should amend that to 'a few of my weaknesses'. Though I sense they can all just be summed up as you." He pulled Coroe into a kiss, one hand curving around the back of his neck, holding him at just the right angle for a mind-melting kiss that left Coroe whimpering, aching.
They made short work of their clothes after that, and Coroe withdrew only to fetch the jar of lubricant he kept in a basket by the bed.
"I see you come here with a particular purpose in mind," Riot said with a laugh. "Do I need to worry about lovers popping in at awkward moments?"
Coroe laughed, though it turned into a stuttered moan as Riot wrapped a hand around his cock. "I'm the only one who comes here. You're the first person I've brought."
Something flashed, hot and bright, in Riot's eyes, and then Coroe suddenly found himself in Riot's place, one of the pillows falling across his face. He threw it aside impatiently, and was met with another of those searing, toe-tingling kisses, the hand returning to his cock, slick this time, and far too good at what it did.
"Riot…" Coroe pulled restlessly at the bedding.
Riot's husky laugh washed over him, doing nothing to lessen his need. "Do you need something?"
"Stop being a bastard and fuck me already."
"Youth. So impatient." Riot let go of his cock and shifted so he could trail his mouth all over Coroe's skin—jaw, throat, collarbone, lingering at Coroe's nipples, which had always been happy for whatever attention they could receive. Riot bit one firmly, and Coroe thrust up, groaning and trembling. "You remind me of this whore I spent a few nights with once, when I was first traveling to Gravington's castle. She had hoops in her nipples, and a chain that connected them."
Coroe shuddered. "No way. I'd feel them all the time under my armor and would never get anything done ever again. I would jerk my cock until it fell off."
Riot laughed and laughed, until Coroe grabbed a handful of hair and shoved him pointedly back to work. In revenge, Riot sucked up a mark on his hip, right where his sword belt would press against it, drive him mad even through layers of cloth and leather.
The divine torment continued until Coroe was so desperate and aching he couldn't form words anymore, just lie there trembling and moaning. Only then did Riot slide into him, and fuck him with steady, deep strokes that had Coroe coming apart just minutes later.
Riot followed him a short time later, sinking in deep and filling the cavern with his deep groan before slumping on top of Coroe, heavy and sweaty and utterly delightful. Coroe kissed one damp cheek. "Not bad, old man."
Cracking an eye open, Riot glared half-heartedly. "Quit that."
Coroe laughed and shifted until they lay side by side, still marvelously tangled together, the cool air from the waterfall wafting over them. "I'm glad you like Tatterlay so far."
"Me too," Riot replied. "It would have been vexing to come all this way only to hate it." He winked, and skated his hands lazily over Coroe's skin. "I admit, though, my relief is mostly that nobody seems to mind you came home trailing a besotted old man."
"Ashtor is friends with Lord Jenohn, you know."
"The Jenohn? The one bonded and married to Lord Selsor?" Riot gaped. "That's incredible. I've always wanted to meet Lord Selsor; he's a legend in more ways than one."
"Well, you may get your chance, eventually. Ashtor is always trying to get Jenohn to come see him. But my point was that Ashtor has seen what their bonding does, the positive effect it's had on the places where it's already spread. So he's probably ecstatic to have a bonded pair here, and is going to put us to work ensuring the practice spreads. Ashtor is always plotting. He loves scheming and planning more than anything else in the world. I will die of shock if he ever settles down with someone."
"Speaking of settling down…"
Coroe's heart dropped into his stomach. "What?"
"Stop looking like you're going to your execution, good grief," Riot said. "Ashtor said that if we wanted more space than your current room, that there's plenty of room in the castle proper, and he'd be happy to have us."
"Oh, room in the fancy castle. Guess you are good to have around."
"Brat."
"You're the one who bonded to me," Coroe replied.
Riot's smile was full of warmth and fondness. No one had ever looked at Coroe in such a way, not outside his parents, and it wasn't the same thing at all. "Yes, I did."
The Professor and
the Gambler
THE MATCHMAKER
Lyle stood in the hallway just outside Jocelyn's office, feeling like someone had turned his whole world upside down.
The old doubts tried to rekindle, but they were no match for Jocelyn's logic, his stupid logic that should have occurred to Lyle forever ago.
And all the other little things he'd said.
Eustace had never slept with Sorrel. Eustace wanted him, boring, stodgy, thirty-five going on seventy Lyle.
Could it really be true? His heart was pounding so rapidly, so hard, that Lyle was half-afraid it would explode. Eustace might care for him romantically. Did he dare find out, once and for all?
But he'd lingered and sulked and wallowed in misery long enough. Even if Jocelyn was wrong, it was long past time to put the matter to rest and move on.
Gods, though, would his heart shatter into a thousand pieces if he'd just gotten his hopes up for nothing, after years of hopeless pining.
He paused in front of one of the many hallway mirrors to fuss with his clothes and hair, try to make himself a little more elegant lord and a little less frumpy professor. A lost cause, likely, but at least he'd tried.
As ready as he would ever be, he went in search of Eustace, who naturally proved to be nigh impossible to find that day. Not in his office. Not in his favorite salon playing with his cards. Lyle scoured the whole of the palace, and could find him nowhere.
Ready to scream, or possibly even cry, with frustration, he headed off to his own chambers before he did something stupid. It was fine. He'd see Eustace eventually. The conversation had waited this long, it could wait a few hours, or god forbid days, more.
But when he turned the corner and headed down the hall to his room, he spied a figure sitting on one of the benches lining the hall. He stuttered to a halt as he realized it was Eustace. "Have you been here the whole time?"
"I wanted a word with you," Eustace said, slowly standing.
Lyle laughed, because otherwise he would scream. "I've been looking all over the palace for you."
Eustace stared at him, then laughed as well. "I'm sorry. I suppose we should have remember that things like sending a note exist." The laughter faded into an anxious smile. "What did you want to speak to me about?"
"Let's adjourn to my chambers, shall we? Instead of speaking out here in the hall." When Eustace nodded, Lyle unlocked his door and led the way inside. He shrugged out of his jacket and removed his neckcloth, finding both abruptly stifling.
Eustace did the same, and it did nothing at all to keep Lyle from thinking about how badly he'd always wanted to find and kiss every freckle on his beautiful body. "Let's have it then."
"First, I wanted to say I'm sorry. You've insisted all these years that you and Sorrel were never amorous, and instead of believing you as I should have I just assumed you were lying, even though it's never been in your nature to lie about such things, and it's not Sorrel's nature to bed his friends."
Surprise filled Eustace's face, and then a smile the likes of which Lyle had never seen. "What finally compelled you to believe me?"
Lyle sighed. "I hate that it took anyone to make me stop being a complete fool, but I confess it was a conversation with the Matchmaker. He is damned good at his job, as much as it pains me to admit it."
"He is," Eustace said, smiling faintly. "I admit I rather like the bastard, as much as I've tried not to. Though part of his charm is that he is getting to Sorrel i
n a way I've never seen. I daresay Sorrel is smitten, and does not like the feeling at all."
"Sorrel? Dislike not being completely and utterly in control of himself and his surroundings? Being at the mercy of another? Never say," Lyle drawled, and smiled when Eustace laughed.
As the laughter faded, Eustace said, "Does this mean we can go back to being friends the way we were? I've missed you, and how easy it used to be between us. I swear to you it's never even crossed my mind to tangle sheets with Sorrel. It'd be like bedding an angry cat who is also my brother."
Lyle took a deep breath, braced himself for the worst, and said, "To be honest, I don't want to go back to the way we were."
Eustace's face fell. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—" Lyle broke off, nerves getting the better of him. "That is, I know there is some gap in our ages and you were once a student while I was a professor, and—" He stopped again, then sighed loud and long. "I am botching this entirely." Meeting Eustace's bewildered gaze, he mustered every scrap of courage he possessed and said, "You must be the only person unaware that I am madly in love with you, and have been seething with jealousy all this time that it was Sorrel who won your affections."
"Madly—" Eustace stared at him, mouth agape, and then abruptly lunged forward, nearly knocking them both to the floor, but before Lyle could ask what he was about, Eustace was wrapped quite firmly around him and kissing him like a man possessed.
Lyle was many things, a complete fool among them, but he had enough sense to wrap his arms tightly around Eustace's waist and return the kiss with equal fervor. Eustace tasted like raspberries and tea, like basking in the sun on a summer day. He was perfect. Better than. Everything Lyle had ever dreamed of and more.
When they finally drew apart, he could only stare into Eustace's hazel eyes, share panting breaths.
It was Eustace who finally broke the silence. "I've always felt the same, you know. Madly. But I assumed you always saw me as… well, the poor student who got beat up for calling out cheaters and couldn't even afford his own medical care. Young. Foolish. A reckless gambler."