by Lynn Lorenz
Gareth broke the kiss and smiled. “Aye, our little pet is a beauty.”
“He’s ours?” Peter gazed into Gareth’s eyes.
“Aye, ours. Yours and mine for as long as he wishes it so.”
Arvel looked from man to man, then reached up and took each of them by the back of the neck and pulled them together. Gareth’s breath puffed across Peter’s face, his lips just a short span away, tempting and sly and ready.
Peter drew closer, unable to resist, unable to fight against Arvel’s demand that his two lovers be lovers. Could he? Could he share with Gareth as he’d shared with Arvel?
Gareth waited, afraid to move lest he frighten Peter off. Despite Arvel’s insistence, it was Peter who would rule the way this night went. If they would become, here and now, all three lovers, not just two men sharing a third.
He wanted Peter, but did Peter want him?
His gaze dropped to Peter’s mouth, then flicked up to Peter’s eyes. They burned with such a passion, it took Gareth aback. He’d handled Arvel’s innocent lust, but could he quench Peter’s more experienced desires?
There was only one way to find out.
Gareth surged forward, taking Peter in a hard kiss. Expecting Peter to pull away, Gareth enjoyed it as Peter leaned deeper into the kiss. Firm lips, similar yet unlike Arvel’s, cushioned his lips, and he brushed his tongue over them to beg admission.
Peter opened with a soft moan, and Gareth entered, all the while still stroking Arvel’s cock. The two larger men, strong and bold soldiers, let the younger, weaker guide and command them. It excited Gareth to know that Peter had given in to what had to be.
Gareth and Peter would be lovers. His heart sang at the knowledge, yet he knew by the stiffening of Peter’s body that if he pressed too hard, too far, too soon, he’d lose Peter. So he broke the kiss and returned to Arvel as if nothing had happened.
∙•∙
Peter gasped as Gareth pulled away. Such a kiss he’d never experienced. Gareth had taken him, sure and swift, and he had been helpless to resist. Hadn’t wanted to resist it, hadn’t wanted to miss learning how the man tasted.
Delicious.
Peter wanted more but refused to be seen as needy or less of a man in Gareth’s eyes. Peter was Gareth’s match in rank, skill, and manhood, and if they were to be lovers, it would be on equal ground. There was no other way for it to be.
But now, the two men focused on pleasuring their pet, their Arvel. As Gareth stroked, Peter licked a path from Arvel’s neck down to his nipple and lapped at it. Arvel arched his back and pushed his hardened nub into Peter’s mouth, demanding more.
Peter chuckled. “Our pet demands.”
“I see. He is like that, I have to warn you. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to tell you.” Gareth bit down on Arvel’s shoulder and sucked up a large mark.
Arvel pushed Peter over, found Peter’s cock, and swallowed it. Peter cried out in surprise and pleasure at the bold move. Gareth moved with Arvel, hand still wrapped around his rod, and leaned over Arvel’s back.
God, it was the most exciting thing to watch Arvel and Gareth.
“Fuck him, Gareth. I want to watch.” Peter’s voice rasped. He knew if anything could make him reach release, it would that glorious sight.
Gareth dropped his hand and moved around to kneel behind Arvel, who was on his knees, servicing Peter’s cock.
“Let me watch him suck you first. Just awhile.” Gareth shuddered as he sat back on his haunches and stroked his own prick. It leaked, signaling its readiness and eagerness to find its home deep inside his lover.
But watching Arvel bob up and down on Peter’s cock? Goddamn, he’d never seen anything better. Arvel pulled up, leaving Peter’s shaft wet and moist from his saliva, then plunged back down making it disappear, only to pull up again, his bared teeth sliding over the mushroom head.
∙•∙
Arvel wiggled his ass at his Heart, trying to incite him. This was what he’d waited and longed for—both men at the same time. He reached behind and slapped his own ass, telling Gareth this was what he wanted. Arvel pulled one cheek aside to show him just where to put his rod and was rewarded by Gareth’s hand smoothing over his other cheek, then a sharp pinch.
Sucking on Peter’s cock had sent his stones all hard and tight to his body, and now the thought of being fucked by his Heart brought his member to full ache. He pulled even harder on that slicked rod, its plump head and soft skin sliding over and over his lips.
If Gareth didn’t fuck him soon, he’d explode, spill his cream all over the bed, and would miss the feel of his channel all around his lover’s rod. He didn’t want that to happen.
With a last look, Gareth spit into his hand, smeared it over his cock, and placed his cock against Arvel’s ass. He pushed in as Arvel pushed back in that hungry way of his.
Just the way Gareth loved.
∙•∙
“Christ, he’s so tight.” Gareth stared across Arvel’s back, into Peter’s eyes.
“Aye, he is that, I give you.” Peter nodded, his gaze flicking between Arvel sucking his cock and Gareth behind Arvel, fucking him. Gareth’s arousal built to dizzying heights, as if he stood at the very top of a mountain and looked over the edge.
The world spun.
Chapter Seventeen
He closed his eyes as his fingers dug into Arvel’s hips. He ground his cock deeper, feeling the first spasm of Arvel’s tunnel squeeze him. He stroked his hand down Arvel’s spine as the man shuddered his release.
“Ah fuck, pet,” Gareth cooed and opened his eyes in time to watch his partners fall over the same edge.
Peter groaned, his head falling back, exposing his throat, pulse pounding along the thick vein as Arvel brought him to completion.
Gareth thought him quite handsome in the throes of lust and satisfaction. How would he look if it were Gareth who took him there? But Peter wouldn’t allow that. He’d barely allowed the kiss, and that had only been with Arvel’s urging.
Peter slid down against the head of the bed, Arvel collapsed between his legs, pulling away from Gareth, who let the younger man escape his grasp. With a playful slap on Arvel’s ass, Gareth flopped on his side, next to the two men.
“Well done, my pet, well done.” Gareth stroked Arvel’s hair as it cascaded over his shoulders and back. Arvel turned his head to look up at him and smiled.
Peter joined in the petting. His fingers grazed Gareth’s. Moments dragged by as they worked in unison, combing Arvel’s long red hair, fingers tangling with each other until, before Peter knew it, they were touching, caressing each other.
Tentative at first, he ran his hand over Gareth’s arm, up to his shoulder, then back again, feeling the strength of his muscles, so unlike Arvel’s. Gareth’s body was a man’s body, firm of flesh, battle hardened, so much like his own. Even the man’s skin felt different to Peter’s touch. Where Arvel’s was soft and smooth, Gareth’s was rough, covered in fine hairs, contoured with muscle and sinew.
Gareth allowed the touch, and Peter wondered if the man held his breath. Perhaps he feared a wrong move. Peter would not be frightened off.
Arvel slept with Peter’s legs surrounding him.
Peter looked up into Gareth’s steady blue gaze.
“Your touch is comforting.”
“Good. I wish nothing more.” Peter nodded, continuing the stroke, moving over Gareth’s shoulder, and then sweeping down his chest.
“Do you now?” Gareth sighed and rolled onto his back, presenting his body for Peter’s ministrations. Although it had just been sated, Gareth’s cock stirred and thickened while Peter’s remained flaccid.
“Indeed. However, I fear I do more.” Peter cocked an eyebrow at the growing erection coming to life amid Gareth’s blond curls.
Peter let his fingertips flutter over a hard nipple, circle it, and then move on, as Gareth arched into the touch.
“I fear you mean to, sweetling.” The big man gasped.
“Sha
ll I stop?”
“Nay. Amuse yourself.” Gareth waved his hand at Peter.
Peter smiled and traced the path of blond hair that spread across Gareth’s chest, down his center, to his belly, then skirted the thick member lying to the side of his navel.
Gareth groaned softly in a deep inhale and exhale as he closed his eyes. His enjoyment caused Peter to linger awhile longer as he mapped the mercenary’s body.
A drop of clear fluid swelled, dropped, and stretched from slit to skin, drawing Peter’s attention back to the cock. Thick, not overly long but well veined, it was a thing of beauty, much like his own rod.
His was longer and about the same thickness. Not as veined, perhaps, but just as well-formed. Nothing to be ashamed of, as they all lay naked.
Peter lifted his hand, breaking contact with Gareth, and lay back on the pillow. He’d opened the door. Now to see if Gareth would step through.
∙•∙
Gareth missed Peter’s touch. He’d drowsed, letting the feel of skin on skin lull him into relaxation as deep as any hard massage. Now he longed for it back.
Aroused, yet he’d almost fallen asleep. And that wouldn’t do. Not for Peter the brave, who’d gone a few steps toward the place they’d both sworn not to go.
Would Peter be the braver man? Would Gareth prove himself the coward?
Peter gazed at him, waiting, with one arm thrown over his head.
Gareth ran a fingertip down Peter’s limp member, and it came to life, filling and growing as if it were a flower opening to the world.
Peter moaned, so, so soft. Gareth stroked his way up and down the shaft, teased the slit, dabbing his fingertip into the pearl that hung there.
“I see you are not immune to such a touch, sweetling.” Gareth winked and held up the finger as proof.
“A body reacts. Nothing more.” Peter shrugged.
“Does it now?” Gareth leaned closer, closing the distance between them, eyes intent on the dark ones watching his every move.
Peter wrapped his hand around Gareth’s neck, his fingers massaging the muscles there. Soothing yet exciting.
He pulled Gareth to him, and Gareth let himself be drawn into the kiss.
Peter’s lips, not as full as Arvel’s, still cushioned his. He ran his tongue over them, begging entry.
Peter opened with a moan.
Gareth plunged in but moved in slow, deliberate strokes, showing Peter just what he’d do with his cock if given a chance.
Peter buried his fingers in Gareth’s hair as his other hand splayed across Gareth’s chest, trapping his nipple beneath it.
Arvel shifted, rolled over, and forced them apart.
Peter panted, eyes dark and wide and lips reddened.
Gareth swore softly, glancing down at their lover, who now climbed over Peter’s leg and snuggled between the two of them. He looked across at Peter, but he’d already fallen back onto the bed and pulled the quilts over them.
The light of the hearth flickered, sending dancing shadows on the walls of the lodge. Arvel’s soft snore filled the night air.
Peter sighed.
Gareth thought two days might just be a very long time.
»»•««
Caelin looked up from the book and watched as Logan and Drake crossed the great hall. He’d tracked the duke’s movements every opportunity he’d had, intent on learning all he could about the man who’d saved him.
All he’d found out was that where he found the duke, Drake, master of arms, was sure to be near. They were always together.
He’d never get a moment alone with the duke. And even if he did, what would the duke want with a scarred man such as himself? A man who’d been removed from the abbey for being a distraction. Well, he was no distraction now.
He sighed as he watched the men climb the stairs to the second floor. Perhaps to finish business in the duke’s office. He’d never been in the room, but he’d seen inside once when he’d passed in the hall to retrieve the boys for their lesson.
And the boys? What of them? Joss belonged to Drake and Tomas to the duke, but they acted as if they were brothers and the closest of friends. Inseparable except when Joss tagged after his father or they worked with him on their sword work.
Drake was a large man, scarred and dangerous-looking. Caelin had feared him at first, but that had worn off little by little as he’d watched the man speaking with the duke. His easy laugh and his obvious devotion to the duke drew Caelin in and had him wondering if his visage frightened anyone. It hadn’t the boys, but then they were used to Drake.
Neither of the men had women. At least none that he’d seen.
“Caelin? Was that correct?” Joss asked, bringing Caelin’s attention back to the book and the boys.
“Say again.” He tried to sound like the monks who’d taught him.
Joss sighed and leaned over the book, his finger tracing the words. “The capitol of France is Paris.” He looked up for approval.
“Very good, Joss.” Caelin nodded.
The boys smiled back and elbowed Tomas. “See. I knew I’d gotten it right.”
Tomas stuck out his tongue, making a face. “I can still read better than you.”
“But you already knew how. I’m new at it.”
“Well, I learned faster than you.” Tomas crossed his arms.
Joss opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded. “I’ll wager you did, Tomas. You’re very smart.”
Tomas’s face burst into a huge grin, and both boys bent over the book again, each eager to outread the other.
Caelin counted himself most fortunate to land in such a place with two apt students and a duke he couldn’t stop thinking of.
Chapter Eighteen
Peter said goodbye again to the two men of the lodge. This time he hugged and kissed Arvel, then faced Gareth, a wry smile on his lips.
“So, God speed your hunting.” Gareth smirked as he looked over the horse’s tack.
“Thank you. I’m sure he will.”
“Bring us back something for Arvel to cook this time. A tasty hare, perhaps.” Gareth gave Peter’s cinch a final tug to check it and stepped aside.
“And what will you do while I’m away?”
“Thought I might break ground on the garden.”
Arvel, eyes trained on them men as he read their lips, smiled and clapped his hands.
“Perhaps I’ll bring back a chicken or two to start the flock.”
“They’ll need a rooster, I think.” Gareth smiled.
“Nay, with all the strutting around you do, a rooster would be pointless,” Peter teased. He halted, one hand on the saddle, one on the reins, and looked into Gareth’s eyes.
“You have strutted about the lodge yourself, sweetling.” Gareth stepped so close their chests touched. Out of the corner of his eyes, Peter caught Arvel fading back, giving them space.
Peter dropped his hand from the saddle, Gareth threw his arms around Peter, and they clasped each other tight, heads resting on shoulders. “Keep safe, Gareth. You and our pet,” Peter whispered.
Then they parted. Gareth brushed his lips over Peter’s and stepped back to join Arvel. Arvel slipped under his arm and nestled there.
Peter led his mare to the break in the woods and down the path to the road.
Another patrol of the foothills. Another two days of solitude and quiet. No one to tease him, no one to try his patience. No sweet Arvel to cook his meals and tend his horse and boots.
No Gareth.
»»•««
Arvel busied himself about the lodge while Gareth spent the morning sitting in the chair, frowning. He didn’t know what had come over his lover, but he grew tired of it.
Gareth needed work. He’d seen this melancholy behavior before and knew him to be a man of action. Fighting, riding, and physical work were needed.
And what Arvel needed was a garden. Gareth and Peter had promised.
They ate their meal, and to Arvel’s irritation, Gareth headed back to the chair
.
Arvel shook his head, grabbed his lover’s hand, and dragged him outside. There, he pointed to the ground, then ran off to the stables and returned with two shovels.
“It’s the garden, is it?”
Arvel nodded and looked up at the sky, finding the sun. His mouth quirked along with his eyebrow at their location. He pushed the shovel into Gareth’s hands and wandered off to the other side of the lodge to search for the best spot to site the garden patch.
Just there, on the sunny side of the lodge, would do well. Lots of sun for most of the day, and away from the horses.
He halted, pushed his shovel into the ground, and grinned.
Gareth followed, dragging the spade in the dirt. “There? That’s where you want the garden?”
With a nod, Arvel stood back, arms crossed, and leaned on the shovel.
“We’ll have to turn the soil first, I think.”
Gareth marked off the bed, then broke the ground. Arvel joined him, and together they worked on the plot until the sky darkened.
“It can’t be night,” Gareth muttered as he halted and looked upward.
The clouds were dark gray, and a gust of wind picked that exact moment to blast down on them. Arvel rubbed his arms, his hair whipping in the wind.
“Best we get inside, pet. Storm’s coming.” Gareth shepherded the younger man inside the lodge just as the first great drops of rain marked their fall from heaven in the dirt.
They’d reached the front door, when Arvel halted, turned back, and dashed to the tools they’d left behind.
“Come back, pet!” Gareth yelled, knowing he couldn’t be heard. He shrugged, and ran out to help Arvel pick up the shovels and take them to the stables. They were soaked to the skin but spent the time to wipe down the metal tools so they wouldn’t rust, then stood in the doorway, watching the rain fall.
“It’s not going to let up soon.”
Arvel stared out at the gray glade and wrapped his arms around himself. He glanced up at Gareth and winked, then jerked his head toward an empty stall. Fresh hay lined it, and Gareth didn’t need any more than that suggestion.
“Take off your clothes or you’ll catch your death.” He reached for his lover and began peeling the wet clothing off him. Not until he’d gotten Arvel naked did he remove his own clothes.