by Lynn Lorenz
Arvel opened the door to the stall, pulled a blanket off the rail, and tossed it on the hay. Then he fell down on it, arms over his head, and smiled up at Gareth.
“God, pet, you know just how to tempt me.” Gareth growled, then fell to his hands and knees and crawled over Arvel’s prone body, his cock dragging along his lover’s thigh.
Arvel reached up, locked his arms around Gareth’s neck, and pulled him down into a kiss. Oh, he loved his pet’s eagerness, his desire, and his love. Aye, Arvel loved him. Despite the fact that he shared his body with Peter, Arvel held Gareth most dear, and Gareth never doubted that.
Gareth gazed into Arvel’s lavender eyes, and every ounce of love the man sent his way struck him through the heart. Gareth placed his hand over his heart, then moved it to Arvel’s chest. Beneath it, the smaller heart beat strong and steady.
“My pet. I love you,” Gareth whispered. No need to proclaim in loud voices, to shout or declare it. Arvel’s gaze never left his face, and he read each of the words.
Arvel mimed the words back to him, pointing to himself, then to Gareth.
Gareth gathered him into his arms and pulled him close. Their bodies, still damp, warmed against each other as skin met skin and hands whisked away the drops of rain still clinging to them.
Arvel pressed up, his cock poking Gareth’s thigh. Gareth chuckled. “Aye, I know. You’re needing.”
Arvel nodded, a delightfully wicked grin on his face, charming Gareth as always. He rolled off Arvel but leaned over to run his tongue over his lover’s chest, swirled it around one nipple, then the next, as Arvel buried his hands in Gareth’s hair, urging him, guiding him to the next place on his body that needed slaking.
And Gareth allowed him to lead, as his tongue made short work of tracking down that smooth, hairless belly tasting of salt and rainwater and Arvel’s own scent. He was the most delicious man Gareth’s had ever tasted, and so he wanted more.
Arvel’s hands pushed him lower, to the slender rod waiting for his touch. It leaked, and pearls of excitement dotted Arvel’s belly. Gareth licked one, then another, tasting a sweet saltiness, inhaling Arvel’s musk as he inched closer to the fat head that beckoned him.
Gareth ran his tongue over the cap, licking up all the drops he could find, and Arvel arched, fingers clenching, nipples so hard they appeared sharp to the touch.
His pale body flushed, and Gareth swore he could hear the pounding of his lover’s heart. Perhaps the sound came from the rush of blood filling Arvel’s cock—he didn’t know.
But he knew if he took it in his mouth, he’d feel the pulse, the steady beat of Arvel’s heart in the most intimate of places. He’d done this a few times when he’d been so driven by lust he lost his reserve and his reticence.
This would be another of those rare times.
He wrapped his hand around the base of Arvel’s shaft and felt the sharp intake of breath. Glancing up, he looked into his pet’s wide eyes, filled with hope and desire. Then he lowered his head, opened his mouth, and took him in.
Arvel bucked, his mouth open in a soundless cry, his fingers twisting the coarse wool horse blanket as Gareth sucked, bobbing up and down on that sweet, slender cock. It didn’t fill his mouth, but it reached the back of his throat, and he nearly choked. He pulled up a little and continued taking him, enjoying the way Arvel’s body told him everything his voice couldn’t.
Gareth had never let Arvel release while in his mouth, but now, unexplained, the desire for it coursed through Gareth. He had to taste his lover’s cream, know it, memorize it as if it were the last time he’d have the chance to do so.
He cupped Arvel’s tight sac, rolling the stones in his fingers, tugging and caressing them until they pulled tight to Arvel’s body. Arvel arched, froze, and emptied.
Gareth’s mouth filled with warm, bitter fluid, and for a moment he thought he might spit it out or choke. Then he closed his eyes and swallowed it down. It seemed as if his lover would never stop shooting, but Gareth continued to swallow, taking all the man had to offer him.
Once Arvel slumped to the ground, his cock softening and retreating within its sheath, Gareth let him go. The big man fell back as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Both men lay panting and naked on the blanket.
Gareth stroked his own cock, seeking some relief in the touch. He’d been incredibly aroused but hadn’t gone to completion. Now he ached for it. Ached to be in Arvel’s body. Inside his tight channel. To take was what his.
Arvel sighed, a slow rise of his chest, then a slower sinking, and rolled over on his belly. He placed his head on his arms, pushed his ass upward until he was on his knees, and presented himself. Ready.
Gareth watched.
Arvel reached around, took one of his cheeks in hand, and pulled it aside, showing Gareth he was more than ready. He ran his finger over his own hole and bit his bottom lip as he slipped the tip inside.
“Need me in there, do you?” Gareth growled.
Arvel’s eyes begged him, shuttering in pleasure as he fucked himself. He didn’t need to say, “Need you. Now. Fuck me,” for Gareth to know what his pet wanted.
Gareth kneeled behind him, spit into his hand a few times to coat his cock, then pressed his hard, swollen rod to the warmth of Arvel’s opening and pushed inside with a grunt.
Arvel pushed back, wiggling in pleasure.
Gareth smiled. His pet was no better than a slut, always wanting to be fucked. Always ready, eager, willing. It excited Gareth greatly, and there was nothing left to do but give Arvel what he wanted.
A good, hard fucking.
Holding tight to Arvel’s hips, Gareth thrust into him. No grace or tenderness, just pure animal lust took over Gareth on this pleasure ride. Arvel was his steed and he the master, and he’d ride Arvel until he could ride no more.
Their bodies sang, slap of skin on skin, moist sounds of cock coming and going. Gareth’s grunts, heavy breathing, rang through the stable.
“That’s it, pet. Take me.”
Gareth panted and pumped.
“Fuck, you’re so damn tight. So hot. God, I love fucking you.”
Slamming into his lover’s tunnel, he showed no mercy.
“Love that you love it.”
Arvel rose up on all fours and met each of his thrusts with his entire body. It drove Gareth beyond his limit, and he groaned as he held back his release, wanting it to be so powerful he’d think he might just die from it.
“Love watching you being taken by Peter. You’re so beautiful. So lovely.” He stroked Arvel’s back. “That excited me, pet. Makes me hard and aching.”
Gareth lost himself in their rutting, crying out, talking to himself, unable to stop the flow of words or his arousal.
“I want to watch Peter fuck you. I want to fuck Peter while he takes you.”
At last, he let it go, let the sensation building in his body, along his spine, deep in his stones, explode from him in a series of frantic, wild thrusts, all rhythm lost as he emptied and shook and cried out Arvel’s name.
Chest heaving, he pushed Arvel down, leaving his cock dripping, and pushed apart the cheeks of his lover’s ass. White cream dripped from the opening, proof of his filling that sweet, tight channel to overflowing.
Taken with an uncontrollable urge that welled up from deep inside, Gareth leaned down between those globes of flesh and licked his own cum from Arvel’s ass.
Arvel rose up on his elbows, turned to look at him, and shuddered as Gareth cleaned him.
When Gareth finished, Arvel dropped his face to his hands and wept.
Chapter Nineteen
Peter plodded along the road. Tired, saddle sore, he’d spent another two days of pointless searching. He ran through his options, or actually Duke Weathers’ options.
If he were the duke and he wanted a way in, what would he do?
Peter chewed the inside of his cheek.
He’d send a spy, not a troop. One man traveling as a merchant, perhaps, someone who came a
nd went without suspicion, could learn much and report all he’d seen. If he were such a man, he could travel the main roads, scouting fortifications, troop movements, even make maps.
In a flash of enlightenment, it was clear what Peter had to do.
He must cross into Weathers’ lands and find out firsthand what the bastard was up to. Only then could he know for sure what the plans to invade were and where they would be carried out.
He’d have to prepare, decide on his new identity. A merchant? He’d need something to sell, and he had nothing. A pilgrim, perhaps? What shrines lay in Weathers’ territory? None that he knew of.
For now he’d think on it, once he arrived back at the lodge and had a good meal and a comfortable night’s sleep in their warm bed. He rubbed his back, stretched, and settled back into the saddle.
Without a nudge from him, his mare picked up her pace as they neared the path for the lodge. She knew home now, where food, water, and a warm stall waited for her.
And she wasn’t the only one anxious. Peter’s heart beat faster as he trotted down the road, around the curve, and spotted the entry. He twisted in the saddle, checking behind him. All clear. In front of him, the road stood open.
He reined in, leaped from the saddle, and pulled his mare into the woods. When he reached the glade, he paused, taking in the lodge and the two men who worked to the side of it, digging where the new garden would be.
“Ho!” Peter cried, raising his hand in greeting.
Gareth looked up, grinned, then stove his shovel into the ground and waved back. “Peter!”
Arvel halted, stared at Gareth, then in the direction he looked. When he spotted Peter, he tossed his spade to the ground and broke into a full run across the glade.
Gareth, laughing, started after him in a trot.
Peter let go of his reins just as Arvel reached him, launching himself into Peter’s arms. Peter barely had the time to brace himself, but he managed to stay on his feet as the weight of the smaller man hit him full force.
“Ho, Arvel! Glad to see you also.” Arvel cut off Peter’s words with a hard kiss on the mouth. Then just as fast, he released Peter and dropped to his feet.
Gareth strode up as Arvel stepped back, letting his lover in. Gareth held out his hand. Peter clasped his arm, then pulled the big man into an embrace. They slapped backs, then parted.
“Good to have you back safe and sound, sweetling.” Gareth’s eyes twinkled in amusement.
“Good to be back. My ass is sore from the saddle.”
Gareth leaned in and winked. “I could make it sore from—” But Peter cut him off.
“Nay, Gareth, nay. The saddle is enough.” He rubbed his bottom.
“How went your hunt?” Gareth’s words held much meaning. The mercenary knew Peter hunted something other than game for the duke’s table. Perhaps it was time to trust in this man, and with more than just his body. His mission.
“We’ll speak of it later tonight.” Peter clapped him on the back, then retrieved his bag from the horse. Arvel had gathered the reins and led the mare to the stable. “I see you’ve started work on the garden.”
“Aye, we’ve been working a little each day. But it’s hot, thirsty work, even in this weather. Arvel can’t do much—he tires.” Gareth lowered his voice as if Arvel could hear him. “We were caught in the rain the other day, and I’ve been watching him for any signs of sickness.”
“Keeping him warm, have you?”
“Oh aye.” Gareth chuckled. “My pet wants for nothing I can give him.”
“And I’m sure you gave much. And often.”
“Indeed.” Gareth opened the door to the lodge, and they entered.
Peter dropped his saddlebag on the table, then staggered over to his chair and dropped into it.
“God, I’m tired.” Peter exhaled and leaned back.
“Your hunt goes badly?” Gareth sat in the other chair and held out a tankard of wine.
Peter nodded his thanks, sipped, then put his head back and closed his eyes. “Aye. But I think I’m going about it all wrong. I need your advice, Gareth.”
“Oh ho! So, you trust me?”
“Aye, for better or worse, I trust you.” Peter took a breath. “I’m on a mission from the Duke of Marden himself.”
“I thought as much. After all, you have his letter of recommendation.”
“Aye.” Peter opened his eyes and leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “Know you of Duke Weathers?”
“Bors Weathers?” Gareth’s face twisted as if he’d smelled a rotting corpse. “What of him?”
“For long years he’s tried to take Marden lands. We’ve thwarted him in the central and south, but now Logan fears he may try to gain access through the northern territory.”
“Here? Cross the foothills or the river?”
“The river is too wide, deep, and fast. It would have to be over the hills.”
“They’re not easy to cross. Broken and dangerous, the footing won’t suit one horse, much less many.”
“Exactly. But a man on foot could make it. Do some scouting and get the lay of the land.”
“Aye. I’ve crossed them myself a time back. If he’s sending spies, do you have evidence?”
“Nay. But to think he’d just send a party across the border, down the main road?” Peter shrugged. “I’ve been riding the foothills from the river to the mountains, but no such evidence have I found.”
“That way is hard and, to tell truth, unnecessary.” Gareth grunted. “A man alone, a traveler, could take the main road and be done with it.”
“My thoughts also. Unfortunately, this brilliance came too late to me. I’ve been a fool and wasted much time wearing out the seat of my breeches.” Peter slapped his thigh and growled.
“No fool. You are many things, but not a fool.” Gareth reached out and placed his hand over Peter’s. “A soldier of some account, by my reckoning. Nay, Peter, you are not used to thinking like a spy.”
Peter looked up into Gareth’s eyes. “And you are?”
He shifted in his chair. “I have worn that cloak once or twice.”
“For Weathers?” Peter pushed the chair away as he bolted from it, his hand flying to his sword. His heart pounded at the thought of having to confront the man he’d come to trust. How had he been so fooled?
Gareth stood. “Never! I’d had enough of his filthy ways years ago when I signed up with him. He’s a heartless, cold bastard, and without honor.” He never placed a hand on his weapon but stared into Peter’s eyes.
Peter dropped his hand. “But you have worked for him before?”
“Aye. But never again. If you had told me of your mission at first, I might have been of some assistance.”
“I could not speak of it.” Peter shook his head. “I was sworn by Logan and my master Drake. Only failure has driven me to tell you now.”
“I understand.” Gareth sat down and motioned for Peter to sit also.
Peter exhaled, then sat. Had he really been prepared to strike Gareth? For lack of better words, his lover?
“I’m thinking patrolling our side is not enough. We need someone deep in his territory to watch and learn what we need to know.”
“Someone who’s been there before, who his men know and perhaps trust?” Gareth rubbed his chin.
“Aye. But where does such a man exist?” Peter cocked an eyebrow at Gareth and smiled.
“Who’s paying?” Gareth rubbed his fingers together, signaling for coins.
“The duke.”
“Then I might know of such a man.”
“I thought you might.” Peter smiled.
“Did you?”
“Well, I hoped.”
Gareth’s gaze dropped to Peter’s sword, then rose to his face. “Did you really think you could take me?”
“I hoped to take you by surprise.” Peter shrugged.
“Why not just cut my throat in my sleep?” Gareth’s eyes lost their humor as he stared into Peter’s.
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Peter rose from his chair, fell to his knees in front of Gareth, and ran his hand over Gareth’s leg. Gareth slid his hand behind Peter’s head, his fingers burrowing in Peter’s curls, then pulled him to meet his lips.
Peter sank into the kiss, opening for Gareth’s tongue. Moaning, the larger man thrust deep into Peter’s mouth, taking control of the kiss. They lingered until Gareth’s grip lessened and Peter pulled away.
“Know I am not such a coward.”
“I never thought it of you, sweetling.” Gareth smiled. “But I like this, Peter. You on your knees for me.” He laughed, tossing back his head.
Peter rose. “For a kiss, perhaps, nothing more.”
“So you say, sweetling. So you say.” Gareth chuckled, and Peter’s cheeks burned at the hint Gareth made.
Arvel entered and nodded to Peter, then came to the men and stood behind Gareth’s chair. He motioned to his mouth.
“Aye, pet, I’m hungry.”
Their caretaker moved to the table to prepare the food, and Peter settled back in his chair, toed off his boots, and closed his eyes.
Chapter Twenty
That night, Arvel welcomed Peter home. They’d undressed and gotten into bed, Arvel in the middle as usual, but this time Gareth held back, letting his pet turn to Peter first.
Peter accepted the kiss Arvel laid sweetly on his lips. Then he ran his hands over Arvel’s smooth back, pulling him closer. Arvel lay on his side kissing Peter as their legs entwined and their hands stroked bare skin.
Arvel wiggled closer, pressing his body against Peter’s as if seeking warmth. He licked at Peter’s mouth, his neck, his chest, making sharp points of his nipples and a hard blunt spear of Peter’s cock.
Behind Arvel, Gareth watched, a small smile playing on his lips.
Peter’s lover reached down and took Peter’s shaft in his hand, and Peter thrust into the tight grip with a moan. Arvel reached behind him, grabbed Gareth’s hand, and pulled him into their pile.
Gareth murmured something soft and rolled closer, resting his body against Arvel’s back. His hand caressed the thin hip and slid over and down to grab Arvel’s cock.