by T. M. Smith
August laughed softly, rolling onto his back to stare up at Hector with half-lidded eyes. Hector saw the same look of desire staring back at him, the emotion completely possessing the green of August’s eyes. He took two steps toward the bed, stopping when August held up a hand. “Lose the towel.”
Grinning lasciviously, Hector made a show of slowly untying the towel at his waist and holding it open before dropping it to the floor at his feet. Approaching the bed, he ran his fingers along the length of August’s gorgeous body, from his foot up to his hip. Their eyes met, and Hector hesitated briefly—the thought of letting this firecracker of a man go pained him. There would be time for talking later. Right now, he was fixing to rock this man’s world. Make it very hard for August to walk away, should he choose to when the sun rose in the morning.
Veering left at August’s hip bone, Hector pushed the sheet aside, taking the firm cock in his hand, gently stroking the length while he watched its owner’s reaction. August looked up at him through hooded eyes, licking his lips, and with a simple nod of his head, he beckoned Hector to come closer. As soon as Hector was in arm’s reach, August grabbed him and jerked Hector down on top of him, kissing him frantically. Rolling their bodies and stretching out over Hector, August kissed him sensually. When he pulled back, Hector nibbled on his bottom lip in an attempt to keep August right where he was. Chuckling, August sat back and waggled his eyebrows. “Roll over.”
Hector quickly complied. August’s hands on his hips, grabbing hold tightly then jerking his ass in the air surprised him. “Wha…” The word became a deep, guttural groan the moment he felt a wet tongue graze his hole.
“You like that, baby?” August asked. His voice had taken on a deep, husky tone, making Hector’s balls ache. Or was that the tongue licking his spine from the inside? He cried out when teeth sank into his ass. “I asked you if you liked it. I can stop if you don’t,” August teased.
“Oh God, don’t stop, I like it, I like…” Again, Hector finished the sentence with a groan as August went after his ass with gusto. He licked, nibbled, and bit before prodding Hector’s quivering hole with his tongue, then licked him from his balls to his lower back. August’s name and a few curses reverberated off every flat surface in the room when he slid a finger in beside his tongue.
Adding a second finger, August pegged his prostate relentlessly, trying to coax an orgasm from him. “Come on baby. Let that first one go so you can relax while I make love to you all night long.” August’s words sent chills up Hector’s spine, and with a simple tap of his finger on Hector’s gland, he came unglued, shooting his load all over the sheet.
Before he could catch his breath, August was sliding into him all the way with one slow push. “Oh…my…God.” Hector groaned, stretching each word with a hint of desperation in his tone.
Covering Hector’s still-shaking body with his own, August leaned in with the first thrust, biting down on Hector’s shoulder as he fucked him hard and fast for several minutes. Hector was surprised to feel the familiar tingle in his balls, telling him his body was getting close to release again. “Fucking hell Hector, I can feel your body tightening up around me. You’re going to come again, aren’t you?”
“I don’t…oh God, yes!” Hector shouted, pushing back to meet August’s thrusts. His vision blurred as his cock erupted again, August fucking him through it.
When his body gave out, he fell into a heap on the bed, wincing when he felt the cold, sticky come beneath him. “Oh no, we’re far from done, baby.” August lifted him up as he sat back on his heels, their sweat-damp skin molding their bodies together.
Shaking his head, Hector tried to pull away. “No more…I can’t.” His entire body sizzled, and he felt certain if August kept fucking him, his flesh and bones would ignite and melt away. August held on though, one arm wrapped around his middle. With his other hand, he grabbed Hector’s chin, turning his head and taking his mouth with a fierce kiss that awakened Hector’s failing libido. August was still buried deep inside him, his cock thick and pulsing, begging for release.
“Look at me, Hector,” August demanded. “Open your eyes baby, please.” What? When had he closed them? Blinking, it took a moment for the red blur before him to come into focus.
“August.” Hector whispered his name.
“I don’t want this to end, Hector. I know it’s fast, and we barely know each other. But everything about you feels right, feels like home.” Hector rested his head on August’s shoulder and held his gaze. They were still connected—August’s cock reminded him of that fact, but their lovemaking had slowed. Instead of hard, heavy, relentless thrusts, August lazily pumped in and out of him while gently caressing Hector’s hips and thighs with his hands.
“There’s nothing tying me to this land anymore, no reason to stay. Take me with you, Hector. When you go back to Greece, take me with you,” August begged.
Hector couldn’t agree more; the elation was immediate and intense, rushing through his body like a live wire. “Yes.” Hector pulled away, turning and snaking his arms around August’s neck, leaning in for another kiss. “I want you with me August; I just couldn’t figure out a way to ask you to come with me.”
Laughing, August pushed him down onto his back, his dick sliding right back into the warmth of Hector’s body and making both men groan. “I want to watch your face when you come,” he whispered, fucking Hector until he screamed so loud the windows vibrated. August followed him into the beautiful abyss moments later, falling onto the bed beside Hector, breathless and sated. It wasn’t a declaration of love from either man—far from it. But it was an opportunity for love to grow if they both played their cards right.
Chapter 24 | Your Love Is My Strength
The smell of frankincense and myrrh tickled his nostrils, pulling Rian from a deep, peaceful sleep. Blinking a couple of times, he stared up at the ceiling in his and Cirian’s bedroom.
Was it all just a bad dream? he thought—well, more like prayed.
A full bladder had him attempting to sit up. Pain radiating from the tips of his toes to the longest hair on his head made him cringe. “Fuuuck. Definitely not a dream.” Just saying the words through gritted teeth pulled all the air from his lungs.
Then Cirian was right there. “My Love, don’t move.”
Breathing through the pain wracking his bones, Rian turned his head and couldn’t stop the tears from falling when his eyes landed on familiar, loving blue ones. “Cirian, you’re here.”
The love he saw in Cirian’s eyes calmed him. “Of course I’m here, Mo Ghrá.”
Rian laughed, though it pained him, reaching a shaking hand up to cup Cirian’s cheek. “My Love, God, I thought for sure I’d die down there.” And then it all came rushing back. Being taken from the greenhouse, dragged to the bunker and beaten to the point he thought his head might explode. And then, oh God, how could he tell his husband what his brother had done to him? Rian curled into a ball and held on to Cirian, the sobs wracking his body with a renewed sense of pain, but he couldn’t let go of the man he loved.
“Rian, My Love, please, what is it? You’re safe now, and he can never hurt you or anyone else ever again,” Cirian whispered harshly.
Lifting his head, Rian asked. “What do you mean?”
Cirian leaned closer and kissed him, the confusion clear in Rian’s eyes when Cirian didn’t respond. “He’s dead, Rian.”
Elated, Rian tried to sit up only to be reminded he’d been beaten to a pulp and should probably lie still for a while. Cirian helped him roll onto his back, grabbing a couple of extra pillows and tucking them under Rian’s head so he could sit slightly upright. He could tell immediately something was troubling Cirian by the way he averted his eyes.
“Cirian, what aren’t you telling me?” He was almost afraid to ask. Did he already know the truth of it all, what Cillian had taken from Rian?
Still not meeting Rian’s gaze, Cirian picked at the hem of the blanket they sat on. “I…I’m supposed to prot
ect you Rian, and I failed. What he did to you…is…it’s my fault. I failed you.” The last few words were barely more than a whisper.
Rian reached for him, wincing when his body protested. Cirian moved closer, begging Rian to stay still. “This is not your fault, darling. You’ve always protected me, us, our family. How were we to know he would find a way into our home?” Rian attempted to reassure him. They lay there for a while, holding on to each other until the pressure on Rian’s bladder reminded him it was full. Cirian helped him get to the bathroom, then helped him back to the bed once he’d finished. He’d barely settled into the stack of pillows when there was a soft knock at the door.
“Come,” Cirian called out.
The door opened and Raven stepped into the room holding a sleeping bundle in his arms. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
Rian chuckled. “Like I’ve been run through.”
Cirian took his grandson and climbed onto the bed beside Rian, the two of them making googly eyes while Raven examined Rian again for anything he might have missed while Rian was still unconscious. When little Ian started fussing, Cirian offered to take him back to his mother while the two men talked more. As soon as they were alone, Raven started digging. “How are you Rian, really?”
How did he respond to that? Could he keep what had happened down there in the darkness a secret and never reveal the truth to another living soul? Cillian was dead, and they were alone when it happened, so there was no one to expose Rian at any time in the future. Raven took Rian’s hands in his and when he looked up, meeting Raven’s misty gaze, his heart sank. Raven already knew. “How did you know?” Rian croaked.
“I’m trained as a physician Rian; you know this. The bruising and tearing…well, down there, tells me it was forced. And I really don’t think you and Cirian practice BDSM. So that only leaves…” Raven let the sentence trail off. In any case, the words didn’t need to be spoken.
Raven stood and walked around to the foot of the bed. “Have you told Cirian yet?”
“Told me what?” Raven and Rian both jumped, which made Rian also cry out in pain. Cirian flew across the room, climbing onto the bed with as little motion as possible. He fussed and fretted over Rian, adding another pillow to the stack.
When their eyes met, Raven smiled weakly. “I’ll get some fresh herbs from the garden at first light and mix a tea for you. Fresh herbs should help with the pain more so than the ones in the tea you’re drinking now. Get some rest.” With all Cirian’s focus on Rian, Raven mouthed the words I’m sorry, then ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Faking a yawn, Rian prayed Cirian would forget what Raven said as he was walking into the room. “I’m tired.”
The look they shared spoke volumes. His husband was far too astute to allow anything to slip past him. “What did Raven mean, Rian? What haven’t you told me?”
More than anything, Rian wanted to fade into the mattress and never be heard from again. If that’s what it took to avoid this conversation, he was all for it. The concern and trepidation he saw in his husband’s eyes shattered him. Cirian had been a part of Rian’s life as far back as he could remember. In all those years, he’d never seen the look directed at him. Ever. The knowledge of how irrevocably he was about to change their lives weighed so heavy on Rian, he broke down.
The pain that wracked his body when Cirian pulled him into his arms couldn’t rival the pain he felt in his heart. “Rian, My Love, what is it? You can tell me anything, Mo Ghrá; don’t you know that?”
Inhaling deeply, Rian allowed himself a few moments to revel in the thick, musky, clean aroma that was his husband. “Not this,” he muttered.
“Rian, please, you’re scaring me. Do you think yourself less a man because of what that monster did to ya?” Rian nodded, his grip around Cirian’s waist tightening. “You’re still a man to me, Rian, the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ll ever need.”
Still, he couldn’t look at him, afraid he’d see nothing but disappointment or worse—resentment. Cirian’s fingers, gentle only when touching Rian, lifted his chin. The fear in Cirian’s eyes was still there, but the love they’d shared over the years that had only made them stronger with time shone there as well. It gave Rian the strength he needed to speak.
“He…Cillian…he…” Rian closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath, “…he forced me…forced himself on me…” Rian choked on a sob, unable to say the word.
“Oh God, Rian, he raped you? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Cirian’s voice was low, menacing. Unable to speak around the lump in his throat or open his eyes to see the anger in his husband’s, Rian nodded. A rush of Gaelic fell from Cirian’s lips. Hateful, vile, disgusting terms Rian never thought would ever be directed at him. Then his entire body cried out in pain when Cirian pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, and he couldn’t hold back the scream that escaped him.
“Fecking hell!” Cirian realized what he’d done, and he released Rian, holding his hands while Rian rode out the pain before helping him get comfortable on the mountain of pillows once again. Unsure what to say, or if he should say anything at all, Rian sat helpless as he watched Cirian fill a glass of sherry, down it, then fill it again and pace the room.
Eventually, Cirian emptied his glass again then dragged a chair over to the side of the bed beside Rian. Still at a loss for what to say, Rian gripped Cirian’s hand tightly when he offered it. “I love ya still Ri, ya have to know that. What that monster did to ya changes nothing—our vows are between us and the lord above, and as far as I’m concerned, you’ve not broken them.”
They held on to each other and cried until there were no more tears to be had. Then they talked until exhaustion set in, trying to decide together whether or not they should tell Maya, Mia, and the twins. Secrets, half-truths, and lies were what made Cillian the animal he was when he tore through their lives, wreaking havoc and laying waste to everything in his path. So they’d tell their family. “Let’s wait until after the wedding, okay?” Rian said, already half-asleep.
“Of course, now sleep, love, safe in my arms.”
Chapter 25 | Let Me Help You
A knock at the door woke Cirian in the morning. Thankfully, he was able to slide out of the bed without disturbing Rian and made it to the door before whoever was there knocked again. If they woke Rian, there would be hell to pay. Tying his robe, Cirian swung the door open to find a very irate Asian man glaring at him. Cirian could tell that Li was livid, but he seemed to know he should keep quiet. Leaning into the room, he saw Rian was still asleep, so he took a step back and waved Cirian out into the hall.
No sooner than the door closed, Li pounced. “Please explain to me why I had to hear my oldest friend had been kidnapped and beaten by a madman from one of the goddamn maids!”
With narrowed eyes, Cirian glared at him. “I’d thank you to remember where you are and just who you’re talking to, Li.”
“Why you…” Li huffed.
“Li, I think it’s best if you remain calm. Allow Cirian a moment to at least answer your question.” Sam, Li’s husband placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to placate him. “Cirian, apologies for waking you so early, but when Li overheard the staff in the kitchen, well, I couldn’t keep him away. So, tell us, please, how is Rian?”
As badly as Cirian needed to vent, let go of all the anger and venom flowing through his bloodstream after the previous night, he knew, deep down, Li only cared for Rian and wanted to know for himself that everything was okay. Running his fingers through his hair, Cirian sighed. “I know Li, I know. And I too am sorry for snapping, I’m just…pissed off and exhausted and…”
“Cirian, love, where are you?” Rian’s voice could be heard faintly through the closed bedroom door. Cirian rushed into the room, conversation with Li and Sam forgotten.
“I’m here; what’s wrong?” Cirian was by his side in a matter of seconds.
“I just need help getting to the bathroom—oh, Li.” Rian paled wh
en he saw his friend and Sam standing in the doorway to his room.
The pained expression on Li’s face sent a new wave of panic rushing through Rian like ice water. “Oh God, Rian, what did that bastard do to you?”
“Not now, Li,” Cirian barked.
Before Li could comment, Sam’s hand was on his shoulder again. “Sweetheart, you’ve seen Rian, and you see he’s still quite tired. Let’s go and come back later.”
“But—” Li stepped farther into the room, but Sam pulled him back quickly.
“No buts, we need to respect Cirian and Rian’s privacy, Li.” Sam watched his husband until he acknowledged him with a nod of his head. “Good. Cirian, would you please send for us when Rian is up to visitors?”