by Lynn Lorenz
Drake’s face lit up and he laughed. “I have just the man!”
Both Peter and Logan stared at him. “Who?”
“I have been struggling some time with what to do about the man, and now the answer has fallen into my lap. This is far better than the fate I’d planned for him.”
“Who and what fate?” Logan asked.
“The fate would be death if he touched you.”
“And who is this?” Peter asked, brows furrowed, his gaze dancing between his duke and his master of arms.
Drake sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, looking cocky and pleased.
“Caelin.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Peter started and sputtered as Logan laughed and slapped the desk with his hand.
“Well done, my love, well done!”
Drake smirked. “Better this than kill him, and that is what I’d be driven to if he ever attempted you again.”
Peter gaped at Logan. “Caelin tried to…with you? When?”
“Soon after he’d come here. I suppose he was taken with me. After all, I’d rescued the poor lad from a worse fate, the scorn of his family.” Logan waved a hand.
“Tell me about him, for I am much intrigued by him.”
“I’ll wager you are. If I hadn’t interrupted you this evening, you would have taken him up against the stones of the hall.” Drake laughed.
The heat in Peter’s face burned. “I will admit I couldn’t take my eyes from him. There is something about him. Those scars,” he whispered and flicked his gaze to Logan for an explanation.
“Now he didn’t tell me outright, nor did his father confess it, but I believe his father gave Caelin those wounds in order to make him less attractive. His father brought Caelin here, straight from the abbey. The abbot had asked him to remove Caelin. It seems that some of the monks couldn’t resist him also.”
“His father?” Peter gasped. “His own son?”
“Better to have a scarred son than a dead one.” Drake shrugged.
“Will you take him with you, Peter? Do you think he’ll fit in there at the lodge?”
“Better yet, do you think you can make a soldier of him?” Drake added. “I’m not going to send him just for you to fuck—I want some work out of him.”
“Wait!” Peter stood. “There are other things to consider. And Lord Drake, how do I know he would want me?” His mind filled with the new possibilities and more questions.
Drake snorted. “Go to his room, then, and ask.”
“Perhaps I will. But what about Gareth and Arvel? They must be taken into consideration. And there is only one bed and it barely holds three.” Peter paced to the hearth and spun on his heels. “And the lodge can’t support so many men. Gareth and I started a small garden for Arvel to tend, and we spoke of keeping chickens. Game is plentiful, but produce and grain cost dearly. And there’s only room for two horses in the stables. And—”
“Whoa!” Logan came from behind his desk. “Slow down, Peter.”
Peter took a deep breath and exhaled.
Logan put his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “You know what is needed at the lodge. Make it so. Order all you need for three months and bring it when you return. You’re captain there, and I’ll provide the outpost with a purse for expenses and wages, just like the others.”
Peter nodded and placed his hands over Logan’s. “Thank you, Logan.” He stared into green eyes the color of moss and once again understood why Drake had fallen in love with this remarkable man.
Drake came up behind Peter and placed his hands over Logan’s. He leaned in and licked a line up Peter’s neck. Peter shuddered but kept Logan’s gaze.
“Now, go find out if Caelin is your man or if I’ll have to kill him,” Drake whispered. “My blade needs sharpening.”
Peter’s cock came to life, not at Drake’s touch but the thought of Caelin being his man.
“Aye, Lord Drake.”
“And let me know in the morn.” Drake bit Peter’s ear and tugged on it.
“Drake, my love, let Peter go.” Logan chuckled. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips across Peter’s in a ghost of a kiss. “Go to him, Peter. He’s yours. You have but to ask and take what he offers.”
The two men stepped away from him, and Peter went to the door. He opened it and turned back to them.
“I’ll report in the morning. No matter what his decision is, I’ll prepare the supplies I’ll need and make plans to return to the lodge.” Then he pulled the door closed, leaving Logan and Drake alone.
The guard stared straight ahead of him. Peter knew he’d been chosen to guard the duke’s door for his loyalty to the duke. And his ability to keep his mouth shut about anything he might hear or see.
“Which room is Caelin the tutor’s?”
“That one.” The man pointed to the door farther down the hall.
Peter nodded thanks, then strode to it and knocked.
The door cracked open, and Caelin peered out at him.
“My lord?” His soft voice trembled, and Peter wondered if that same tremor would remain when he was in the throes of passion. God, he hoped so.
“Caelin, I must speak to you. I come on the duke’s business.” Peter put his most formal voice on, and it echoed in the corridor.
“The duke’s business?” Caelin stepped back and opened the door wider. “Of course. Come in.” He moved away from the door to stand in the center of the room.
Peter entered, closing the door behind him.
For a long time they stared at each other. The same fire Peter had felt before ignited again. Caelin’s chest rose and fell in rapid motion, his gaze locked with Peter’s, and his full lips parted as if in anticipation of what was to come. As if he waited, like a soldier, for Peter to command him.
“Come here,” Peter ordered.
Caelin shuffled forward, halting just a few feet from him.
“Who scarred your face?”
“My father.” Caelin’s soft voice could barely be heard.
“Why?” Peter waited to see if Caelin would speak the truth.
“To protect me.”
“From?”
“Men.”
Peter took another step forward. “Do you need protection from men?”
“Perhaps.” Caelin shrugged. “Are you going to hurt me?” His eyes begged Peter for mercy, and the look made Peter hard. Caelin had to look up at Peter, and Peter liked that, liked that Caelin had the same lithe build as Arvel.
“Nay, I’d never hurt you, pet.”
Caelin’s eyes widened as Peter reached out and stroked his undamaged cheek with the back of his hand, and he leaned into the touch. Peter grazed the other cheek, running his knuckles over the three parallel scars.
Caelin closed his eyes and moaned.
Peter’s cock shifted, growing in its need, and he inhaled, dragging Caelin’s scent into his nostrils. The man smelled like musk and sweet clover honey.
Wrapping his hand around Caelin’s neck, he pulled the smaller man to him until their bodies touched. Peter tilted Caelin’s head back, leaned down, and placed a soft, chaste kiss against those full, sweet lips.
Caelin whimpered as his body melted into Peter’s, and his hands buried in Peter’s vest as he clung to him. Peter took the kiss deeper, his tongue seeking entrance. Caelin opened to him, allowing him to find what waited for him inside.
Honey. The man tasted of honey. Sweet and thick and driving Peter higher in his arousal. His rod, now rigid and throbbing, bulged in his leathers, making his need known to Caelin.
Caelin writhed against him like a cat. His soft purr-moan filled Peter’s ears until all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart and Caelin’s sweet sounds of encouragement.
Peter gasped as Caelin let his vest go and worked on the strings of Peter’s breeches. The loose cotton shirt Caelin wore soon fell to the floor. Peter couldn’t remember how or who had removed it, but the now exposed Caelin’s pale flesh delighted him.
/> The man was lithe but not without muscles. Where Arvel was soft and hairless, Caelin’s body was firm and his chest coated in a light growth of brown hair that dived down his belly to disappear under his drawstring pants.
Caelin reached inside Peter’s breeches and found his straining cock, wrapping a warm hand around it, claiming it. He gave it a gentle tug, his thumb smearing the fluid that gathered on its head.
Peter broke their kiss as Caelin freed Peter’s rod. “God, pet, that’s good.”
Caelin stroked it again, moaning as he kissed Peter’s throat. With his hands on Caelin’s shoulders, Peter pushed him down. He expected resistance, but Caelin went willingly to his knees.
“Suck me, pet.” Peter ran his hands through Caelin’s thick hair.
There was no need to guide him. Caelin had shifted his grip to the base, and before Peter could say a word, he’d taken Peter’s rod into his mouth.
“Ah, Caelin,” Peter whispered.
Caelin’s tongue worked its way into the slit, teasing Peter. He used the flat of his tongue to bathe Peter’s shaft, top, bottom, and sides, ending again at the fat head, which he sucked.
Using just his teeth, he scraped over the lip of the head, and Peter nearly lost his footing. He locked his knees and prepared for the onslaught. One thing he couldn’t deny—Caelin was no stranger to the ways of men with men, and Peter thanked God for it.
He looked down at the top of Caelin’s head, watching him as he bobbed up and down on the thick shaft. Caelin reached down to touch his erection, straining against the loose cotton.
“Don’t touch yourself.”
Caelin groaned and clamped his hand around Peter’s thigh as if to keep his hand occupied. It excited Peter that Caelin obeyed him, gave no complaint or argument to Peter’s demands.
My pet.
Peter closed his eyes and concentrated on the way Caelin’s ministrations felt on his cock. How it heated him, bringing his blood to a boil, made his stones hard and tight, and how his body began its slow climb to release.
He didn’t want to shoot down Caelin’s throat. Perhaps later. Now he wanted to fuck Caelin and feel the man’s release squeeze his cock.
Peter pulled Caelin off. His pet released him with a loud, wet pop and a whimper.
“Against the wall.” Peter dragged Caelin to his feet and pushed him backward. Caelin stumbled, caught himself, and spun, placing his hands on the stones of the wall to brace himself.
Peter stepped up, grabbed Caelin’s pants, and ripped them down, exposing his pet’s ass. Caelin moaned and canted his hips to jut his ass in readiness.
Peter ran his hand over Caelin’s ass, down his flank, and up the other side. “So soft, pet, so soft.”
“Peter, please,” Caelin whispered with a groan.
“What do you want me to do, Caelin?” Peter ran his fingers up the valley of Caelin’s ass.
Caelin dropped his head and panted, pushing his ass a little higher. “Fuck me.”
“So you want this?”
“Aye, I want it.”
“You want me.”
“Aye, you. I want you.”
Peter leaned closer, his cock rubbing up that same valley. “Me alone? Or do you just want any man to stick his cock in you?”
“Just you, my lord. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I lost all desire for anyone else.” It was the most Caelin had spoken to Peter, and Peter didn’t doubt the feeling behind the words.
Peter reached around and took Caelin’s rod in his hand. Hot, hard, long but not as thick as his. He loved the weight of it, its texture, and the softness of the skin that wrapped it. Liquid dripped from it, and he smeared it over the head and down the shaft with his hand.
Beneath him, Caelin shuddered, and that sweet little purr-moan returned.
Peter guided his cock to Caelin’s opening, then spit and slicked it to make the passage easier for his pet. He didn’t want to hurt Caelin—he wanted to make Caelin forget all the other men who’d ever fucked him. He wanted Caelin to want only him.
“Now, pet?” He pressed the head into the tight bud.
“Aye,” Caelin cried out. “Fuck me now.” His ass pressed back onto Peter’s spear as he impaled himself on it. Caelin’s rod, still held in Peter’s tight grip, never flagged.
Resistance, pressure, and then he was through and inside Caelin’s heated channel. He worked deeper, until they rested flesh to flesh, his balls against the top of Caelin’s thighs.
Peter draped kisses over Caelin’s back, running his hand over his pet’s shoulder while he stroked that hard, insistent cock, throbbing with each beat of Caelin’s heart passing through their connection.
Resting his chin on Caelin’s shoulder, Peter whispered, “You’re mine, Caelin. My pet.” He didn’t move, just held Caelin in his grip, in his power, with his cock and his hands.
“Aye, my lord.” Caelin nodded. “Yours to command.”
“And I will command you. I will tell you when you may release.”
“Aye,” his pet whispered. It sent a shiver of arousal through Peter.
“I will tell you when to go to your knees.”
“Aye, my lord.” Caelin sobbed.
Peter withdrew, then lanced in, and Caelin gasped. Peter thrust slow and easy as if he had all night to fuck Caelin and to enjoy the body that trembled beneath his. Such a body. Strong, smooth, not like Arvel. Peter enjoyed Arvel, but his desire for Caelin he knew, even then, was stronger.
This was his pet.
God, is this what Gareth felt for Arvel? Did Arvel make Gareth’s knees weak when he fucked him? Did he make Gareth’s heart beat with the same strong emotion that filled Peter now?
And what would Gareth and Arvel say when he brought Caelin to them?
Peter moaned. Would they all share Caelin as they had shared Arvel?
The thought of that, the picture of it in Peter’s head, sent a hard wracking shudder through him, and he lost the ability to keep his steady pace. All he wanted was to thrust madly into his pet, to reach his climax, to spill his cream deep inside Caelin.
To hear Caelin’s cry, to hear him declare Peter his master and lord and love.
Even now, Caelin’s cock throbbed, swollen and on the verge of expelling his seed. But Peter couldn’t have that. Caelin must learn who was master and who was pet.
“Are you my pet?” Peter bit Caelin’s shoulder and clamped his fingers around the base of Caelin’s shaft. Caelin groaned, unable to find his release as Peter continued to thrust deep into his channel.
“Aye, your pet.” Caelin grunted and dropped his head.
“And if I tell you to bend over and spread your cheeks for me?”
“I will. I swear I will.” Caelin’s voice broke with a soft sob as Peter’s thrust raked over the spot inside his tunnel. Caelin rose up on his toes, body quivering. “Please.” He groaned. Peter’s grip on his pet’s cock tightened.
“Not until I tell you, pet.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“And if I allow it, will you let another man take you?”
Caelin shivered. “Will you watch?”
“Aye.”
“I will, my lord. For your pleasure.”
“And for yours, pet.” Peter slammed into him, and Caelin’s arms strained and bulged with the effort to keep him from being pushed face-first into the wall.
Caelin nodded. “For mine.”
“Then you belong to me.”
“I belong to you, my lord. To do your bidding. To please you. As you command,” Caelin cried out, sweat dripping down his back from the strain of his denied release.
“Give me your release, pet. Now.” Peter let go of Caelin’s cock.
Caelin opened his mouth, threw back his head, and shuddered as he pumped his cream out against the wall and floor. But he never made a sound as the walls of his tunnel rippled around Peter’s cock.
Peter closed his eyes and let his own release swell, build, then explode, shooting deep into Caelin’s channel, fillin
g him until he had no more to give. Peter pulled out and spread Caelin’s cheeks apart.
The tight pink bud quivered, letting a long line of white drip down the inside of Caelin’s thigh.
With a final shudder, Peter tossed his head, rolled his shoulders, and slapped Caelin on the ass.
“Well done, pet.”
He pulled the shaking young man into his arms, and Caelin buried his head in Peter’s neck.
“My lord. No one has ever…no one…” he cried. His arms came up around Peter’s neck.
“Never fucked you like that?” Peter asked, unable to believe he’d done anything remarkable at all.
“No.” Caelin shook his head against Peter’s chest. “No one ever understood me before. No one ever knew what I needed deep inside.”
Peter clung to his pet. He had known. He’d taken one look at Caelin and known.
Caelin needed to belong to someone. He needed a master.
And Peter understood in that moment that he had needed to be the master.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Peter lay on Caelin’s bed with the young man’s head resting on his chest. He drew circles on Caelin’s shoulder.
“Pet, I will be leaving the keep soon.”
Caelin sat up, frowning. “Take me with you, please, my lord.”
Peter chuckled and pulled him back down into his arms. “But you don’t know where I’m bound.”
“I don’t care. I want to be with you.”
“Don’t you like it here at the castle?”
“Aye, it’s fine, and the boys are good.” Caelin sighed. “But I want to be with you. You said it, my lord. I belong to you now. I go where you go.”
Peter laughed. “Captured your heart, have I?” He didn’t believe it. A man might say anything in the throes of passion, even swear undying love, but that didn’t mean he spoke the truth.
Caelin nodded and spoke into Peter’s neck as he pulled Peter closer. “Aye, from the first moment I saw you stride into the great hall. I couldn’t take my eyes from you, my lord.”
“Or I from you,” Peter admitted. He felt Caelin smile against his skin and gave him a quick hug. “Now, about where I’m bound.”