Uly didn’t want to think what that meant, but he couldn’t deny it. He had experienced very few sexual encounters before meeting Markis, and those with men had nothing to do with affection. He had learned early in life how to be a good thief. He had learned from the best. He hadn’t tried to sell his body for the coin itself, but some saw it as an easy option. He had found it to be no such thing. He had tried it in search of affection, and when he quickly realised that was not part of the act, he stopped, and went back to picking pockets until the day he had tried to steal a prince’s purse.
“Maybe I did, but I soon gave up on it. You’re right, though; I wanted love. I just didn’t know it. I didn’t know what love was or how to recognise it. I didn’t know what I felt for you except a wish for you to want me. Now I wish…” He broke off, his throat choking up, his tears getting the better of him. More of them ran down his face. “I wish you didn’t.”
Markis looked lost, in pain with his confusion.
“If something happens to me, you’ll be hurt.” Markis reached for him, but Uly took a step to the side, away from his touch, ready to fly if he did. “If you love someone, it makes you vulnerable.”
“You must have known that.”
“I did, but I didn’t feel it until today. It’s as if I can feel the knowledge of what that means crawling under my skin. I don’t want to hurt you like that. I don’t want to be the cause of so much pain.”
“Is that why you’ve been afraid to admit you love me?”
Uly started, searched Markis’s gaze. So the man truly had known it all this time.
“And if something happened to me?” the king asked. “How would you feel?”
Uly couldn’t bear it. More tears fell. They just kept running from his eyes as though he carried a personal storm. “Might as well cut out my heart,” he whispered.
“See? It goes both ways.” Markis took a step forward. They were almost touching. The span of a hand separated them. “Uly, what you don’t see is that love also gives you strength. It makes you fight, stand up for what’s right. It makes you face your fears, be brave. It gives your life purpose, meaning. Trust me. I spent too long caring about someone from afar even when he sat right next to me.”
Even though Uly was aware that Markis didn’t mean it, the mention of Ryanac right now almost made him wince. Ryanac. Always there was Ryanac. Even as Markis continued, Uly took in the truth of the king’s words, for he felt cut open and bleeding right now.
“That would never have changed if it weren’t for you. Love can be the cruellest thing in the world. It can cut you as sure as any knife. You won’t see blood seeping, but you bleed all the same, but only with love are we whole. Life without it is a very empty thing, or can be. I was a very empty thing without you.”
“Isn’t that worse? If something happens to me, doesn’t that make it worse?” Uly refused to think of anything else but what Markis meant to him and he to Markis.
“Of course it does, but the only way to avoid that is not to ever love anyone, and that isn’t living at all. Trust me, I know.” Markis stared directly into his eyes. Outside, the storm raged. The sky crashed, the clouds broke open, and rain started to pour. Both he and Markis visibly breathed in the scent it brought forth. “You give me strength. I don’t want to be in the world without you, and if someone or something takes you from me, or me from you, that isn’t our fault.”
Taking his hand, Markis led Uly out into the world. The overhang acted as a canopy. It shielded all but the very edge of the balcony from the rain. Uly leaned out, tipped back his head, and let the rain wash away his tears. When he opened his eyes and stepped back, he was soaked. The rain had drenched his hair and water ran down his skin. Droplets snaked down his torso, slightly warm and yet so cool they made him shiver. Markis’s heat touched his back. Fingers drew his wet hair together and set it to one side. Warm lips kissed his ear, and a tongue licked delicately. Turning, Uly clawed his fingers into Markis’s hair, snagging his scalp. He pressed their mouths together hungrily.
Markis stiffened and then gave in to the assault. That slight pause caused a spike of pain to erupt through Uly. Ryanac was right, then. He seldom took the initiative, so the moments when he did stood out. They turned, clutching frantically. Nails raked and hands grabbed, unable to touch enough, get close enough. They opened their legs and rode each other’s thighs, drenched from the rain now, aware of the storm as something wild and stirring, as intense as their feelings. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. The rain poured down so heavily, Uly could have tipped back his head and probably drowned in it. He wanted to drown in Markis. He needed to be inside him.
When Markis took his hand, Uly followed where the king led. Their grip had none of either man’s underlying desperation in it, not the desire that thrummed along Uly’s skin or the longing he could see in Markis’s eyes as the man glanced back at him. Uly’s hand lay relaxed in Markis’s firm but gentle grasp. Uly felt almost languid…until they reached the bed.
Almost as if Markis knew what Uly wanted, he slid onto the bed, turning to lie on his back. Then Uly lost track of time, of how they moved from one moment to another. He felt it on some level below rational thought, where he sensed he could stop thinking of himself as human. He could imagine that was how the minds of animals often worked, focusing on the basic needs of life: food, safety, and sex. The idea that he was striving to let his mind close down to the level of an animal no doubt should have alarmed him, but it didn’t. Uly tried to drive conscious thought from his mind even when Markis handed him the oil, even when Uly applied it to Markis’s intimate flesh, even when he slipped his fingers inside the man.
Sweat trickled from one side of Markis’s face, and Uly itched to wipe it away, to lick it up, to taste the saltiness of it. He would have to crawl around Shavar’s body to do that, or crawl up and over him. He couldn’t move, and his fingers were far too busy in retrospect. Heat and slickness grasped at his fingers, sucking more of them in. Something frantic stared out at him from Markis’s gaze. That long chestnut hair fanned out around the man, over him, stroking his flesh as he breathed. His mouth moved in a single word spoken in silence. Please.
Looking down, Uly watched his fingers disappear into the king. Into the prince. Into my prince. King he might be now, but to Uly and Ryanac, this man would always be their prince. A small earthquake took up residence in the body lying at his knees. The eyes closed, the man’s back arched, and the head went back. The movement plunged Markis down onto his questing fingers without Uly having to do a thing. He looked up, once more checking, wanting to trust his eyes. The long, firm shaft jerked and drooled out another thin, clear stream onto the king’s belly.
Watching as he slid his cock into another’s flesh widened Uly’s eyes. He could hardly describe it. This feeling was amazing, too glorious for words. The heat, the pulsating clenches…those words just weren’t enough. Uly started to rock his hips unintentionally. Last time they had done this, it had been Ryanac’s initiative. This time, he was in control. A moment of self-doubt almost stopped him. The almost perfect cry that left Markis’s lips caused Uly to saw back and forth instead. The idea struck him as foolish now, but when they had first become lovers, Uly had believed he would be there for Shavar’s use, and he had accepted that until today. Now he wanted them to make love in so many ways, ways he hadn’t learned by experience yet, only desire. Joined in penetration, his cock speared up into Markis, his frenzied hips pushing, pulling, pounding, and rolling, their bodies synchronised. Uly looked into Markis’s face and saw only peace.
The sure knowledge that he could have Ryanac this way if he wanted brought forth his embarrassment, but now he recognised the emotion for what it was, merely a way to escape his true feelings. He hid behind fear and embarrassment as something he usually found comforting, something he clung to whenever he feared to let go. What did he have to fear but having his feelings hurt, or someone using his needs and desires to humiliate him? No one would do that here,
not intentionally. That meant he needed to accept this way of life to find peace.
Now was not the moment to consider his reservations. Uly turned his mind to using the man beneath him, to taking his pleasure. Markis didn’t seem to mind at all. He caught Uly about the hips with his ankles, drawing him in, forcing him to strike up into him in a hard, deep plunge that had to hurt. It even wrung a grunt from Shavar’s throat, but Uly and Markis rocked as one now, a perfect rhythm that had nothing to do with their minds and everything to do with their bodies. It felt too good to stop, too painful to continue. He would have closed his eyes, turned his head aside if Markis’s gaze hadn’t latched on to his, one of Shavar’s hands clutching the side of his face, holding his head in place. There was nowhere else to look, nowhere else to run. Uly pressed his cock home, guiding it with his hand if he needed to, burying inch after inch in a quick rush of desire, almost hating the moment when he had to withdraw in order to plunge once more. He wanted to plough into Markis, pushing past more than that tight ring. Little spasms met his onslaught, Markis’s body almost fluttering around his buried cock so that Uly drove forward to the hilt, his heart and desire wanting to split Markis apart. His own flesh lurched, strained. His heart stuttered.
Uly couldn’t close his eyes against the king as he erupted inside of him. Even as the ultimate pleasure of the moment made him shudder, there seemed something sinful in it. Not in what they had done but that he, Uly, someone born to live and die on the streets, should spill so deep inside such a man as this seemed wrong. If it had not been for the Swithin invasion, if he had not tried to take the wrong purse at a fortunate moment, he would never have known such bliss, and he wasn’t sure he was entitled to it. The sight in Markis’s eyes banished the thought. Glazed from lust and yet bright with love, those eyes were a deep abyss Uly willingly fell into.
Chapter Eleven
The view was spectacular. Markis watched Ryanac staring out at the city, but he looked no further than the vision of the man, and that was even more of a spectacle. He had followed because it was unusual for the big man to slip away like that, quietly, as though he didn’t want anyone to notice. Markis had followed him out onto one of the balconies close to the roof. Ryanac did not move. His gaze roamed but he could have been a statue otherwise. He didn’t fool Markis. His guard knew of his presence.
Markis walked across the roof, savouring the early breeze that slipped into the opening of his robe, and which parted the garment. With the passing of the storm, the air had cooled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked directly. “You hated seeing me with him?” This morning over breakfast, he and Uly had gazed starry-eyed at each other. He couldn’t help it even though Ryanac had rolled his eyes and tutted.
“No,” Ryanac said, still gazing out at the landscape. “I love to see you with him.”
Not willing to have Ryanac hide his feelings, Markis stepped in front of him, leaning against the balustrade, aware Ryanac would not tolerate it. Even an archer would have a problem sending an arrow this distance but even so, Ryanac grabbed him by the shoulders and tugged him back from the edge. The big man’s gaze flicked to where the robe gaped, clearly displaying Markis’s body. Markis couldn’t keep the smile from his face upon seeing Ryanac swallow.
“Jealous? It’s not the Swithin way.” He mocked the guard with words that had fallen from his own lips once.
“Not exactly.”
“You chided me for similar emotions, and you don’t feel this way regarding Tressa.”
“That’s different.” He tried to walk away, but Markis caught hold of him. Ryanac’s gaze went immediately to the yawning gap of the robe. “Stop trying to distract me with the glorious sight of your gorgeous body.”
Markis laughed. He just couldn’t contain it. He gathered up Ryanac’s face and kissed him gently. “What did you do to Uly the other day?”
“I showed him how to take what he wanted.”
“And I thank you for it.”
The other man shook his head. “I’m not jealous, you dolt. I think you have problems to face that staring at Uly over breakfast won’t solve. You have personal and practical problems to deal with, but I can see by the look on your face that I’ll get no sense out of you this morning, so I made myself scarce. You just look altogether too smug and satisfied that I could barely stand it. Only I used to be able to make you look that way.”
Tracing his lips with a thumb, Markis said, “You still can. You still do. Ryanac, I need you with me. I want you with me. You’re the one I called, the one I trusted when it felt as if I didn’t have a friend in the world. I will always need you.”
“You’re overcompensating,” Ryanac teased.
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” They kissed again, briefly. When Markis pulled back, he said, “I’m going to change and then give Kilan another lesson.”
“You still think this is wise?”
Markis searched his eyes. “You don’t?”
“I…trust Kilan. He can be a bit unpredictable, though.”
“He’s young.”
“That’s my point. He’s barely a man.”
Markis couldn’t seem to stop grinning today. He could still feel Uly inside him. He had only to close his eyes, and he could feel their bodies pressing. He still smelt of Uly. He hadn’t washed him off his skin. “We were young once.”
“Not as young as you look. Stop grinning. It’s irritating.”
He laughed. “Now you know how it feels. We were discussing my brother.”
“I trust probably about a dozen people in this world.”
“That many?”
Ignoring the interruption, Ryanac said, “That includes the four of us, Harton, and Antal. I also trust my parents and my siblings, but I do not even trust them with your life. I wouldn’t take the chance.”
“So, not Kilan.”
“Not with your life, not with Tressa’s or Uly’s. No. He needs to prove himself and grow in age and wisdom first.”
Markis stood there holding his friend’s hands in his. He took a few moments to consider his words, knowing how Ryanac would react. “There’s a passage in the book,” he began, “where two Shavar can combine their strength.” The look of alarm he expected appeared instantly. He gave Ryanac’s hands a little shake. “This wouldn’t be a case of my handing control over to Kilan, but more like his adding his strength to mine. I’m stronger than he’ll ever be. I know. I’ve tested him. He couldn’t take over, and if we do this, he will have to trust me not to cripple him.”
“You’ve told him this?”
“Yes. We haven’t tried it yet.”
“Why?”
“It’s too soon. He’s not ready. He has many years of training ahead of him even with my help, but it could come in useful someday. I also think I might be able to speed up his training.”
“How?”
He hated it when Ryanac got like this. Terse questions that demanded a direct response were difficult to avoid. He broke contact and paced. “If I could…show him.”
“Show?”
He sighed. There was no getting away from this. “If I take Kilan into the abyss, I believe one Shavar could teach the other control by showing him the power that exists, letting the man and the power taste one another.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You don’t have to. I shared the abyss with you. I know the taste.”
Markis turned back, surprised. “I didn’t think you would understand why I chose that word.”
“I understand, all right. I just don’t have the ability to do anything with it. I also think you’re right about teaching someone that way. I think you could cut it down to months, if not weeks or days.”
“No argument?”
“Don’t look so surprised. No. Not if you’re certain. Just do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Start out slowly.”
Markis laughed again. “I shall have to.”
“Why?”
“Kilan’s petrified.” His laughter rolled around the balcony.
* * * * *
Markis took a perfunctory wash, still not wanting to swab Uly’s scent from his skin. It always reminded him of cut grass and cool breezes. He would bathe tonight and then, with any luck, rub that scent all over him again.
He stopped by to have a word with Tressa before going about his duties. There was no council today. He had a few chores to do that did not require Tressa’s presence until later. He wanted to check if she had her morning planned, though even if she wanted to use the time just being lazy, that was fine by him. She had mentioned a wish to continue her education, something Azulite women were discouraged from doing, sometimes forcefully. Tressa had learned almost everything she knew against her father’s wishes and knowledge. Markis wanted to have a word about that too.
She was brushing her hair when he knocked, then entered at her call. She lay the brush aside and waited demurely.
“I apologise,” Markis began, “if Uly and I were insufferable over breakfast.”
A small smile crept over her face. “Not insufferable.” She looked thoughtful and then her gaze flicked up to his face before she looked away. Clearly, she chose her words carefully. “I just wish I felt that way about someone.”
Markis sighed inwardly. He sat down, taking one of her hands in his. “At least we are now being honest with each other. You’ve not had sex with Uly since we arrived, have you?” She shook her head. “And Ryanac?”
“I consider Uly more as a friend, and Ryanac as…” She hesitated. “There have been a few occasions, and last night was nice, but Ryanac irritates me. I despair over him as much as I admire him. I know he is more to you than your guard, but it frustrates me. I do not wish to be Uly’s lover, and Ryanac… I would prefer not to be intimate with him either. I think of him more as convenient. Last night was about lust for me, not love. They both care for me, and we share much, including respect, but nothing as strong as what you feel for them. I am sorry.”
The Swithin Chronicles 3: The Comet Cometh Page 16