And abruptly, most of Brody’s fear departed, leaving him simply an aching, tightly wound bundle of intense need. He pressed his lips to Will’s and savored the taste, before thrusting his tongue into his mouth.
His canines extended and he was too overwhelmed to have the necessary control to retract them. Will would hopefully take it for the compliment it was. He pressed Will’s mouth against his, holding him there while he probed with his tongue. Tasting. Exploring.
When Will groaned, the tension in Brody’s body tightened to the point where a tap on the shoulder could have shattered him into a thousand pieces. His cock was throbbing against his belly in time with his heartbeat and the heat in his balls was like a furnace.
He reached for the hem on Will’s tunic with one hand, not willing to break contact with his mouth for a second.
Will’s hands came alive. They gripped Brody’s arms and he was spun around and pushed against the wall. Their kiss was broken.
Will was breathless. “There’s something I want to do for you. First.”
Brody knew exactly what Will intended. He didn’t think he could withstand more excitement, but his heart leapt anyway.
Will didn’t wait for an answer. His hands slipped beneath Brody’s tunic and pushed it up around his waist. Will smiled when he saw Brody was bare from mid-thigh upward, bereft of braies. “I’ll remember this sight,” he murmured and dropped to his knees in the sand.
He spread Brody’s thighs and his fingers caressed his balls, just before his hands cupped and squeezed them. Brody let his eyes close and his head roll back, the night air brushing over the heated skin of his face. He was actually hot. Aroused and hot.
When Will’s mouth closed over his cock, Brody groaned desperately. He was already so close to climaxing, Will’s work would be over barely before it had begun. Brody squeezed his hand into a fist, fighting the pleasure, trying to make it last as Will’s lips slid along his shaft and his tongue worked the underside with powerful effectiveness.
Then Will’s teeth bumped over the ridges of the head of his cock and Brody lost control of his building climax completely. It crashed through him with a power that swamped his senses. He dimly heard himself shout as he jerked and came with hard, grinding thrusts that dimmed his vision and drained his energy. He clutched at the crumbling wall for support, waiting for his heart rate to settle back to normal again and his breathing to quieten.
Will sat on the sand, watching him, wearing a small smile.
Brody let go of the wall and stood up carefully. He cleared his throat.
“Well, I guess we know your sensitive spot,” Will said.
“What’s yours?” Brody said. His voice was strained.
Will stood up and unbuckled his belt and dropped it to the ground. “There’s two ways to find out.”
“You could just tell me,” Brody said.
Will turned and headed for the tent and the fire, pulling his tunic off as he went. Like Brody, he wore no mail underneath, but he did wear an undershirt and hose. He dropped the tunic and kept walking. “I could just tell you, but that wouldn’t make it very interesting, would it?”
Brody shed his tunic and the leather hauberk. Then, quickly, the undershirt, as he followed Will to the fire. He removed both hose and boots in two strides apiece, which left him naked, as he wore no braies. It was simultaneously an unrestricted and sinful feeling and he could feel his body responding to it.
Will stepped onto the bedcover still wearing his undershirt and leggings and turned to face Brody. He paused, studying him. “I thought you might have more scars,” he said, almost diffidently.
From being a slave, Brody realized.
“I was young. Very young. I healed well,” he explained. “And then I was turned before life handed me any more.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirty. I think.”
“You were a slave for seventeen years?”
“It would have been longer except I kept defying them.” Brody shrugged, trying to make it sound casual. “In the end it killed me. Or it would have, except another slave turned me.”
Will nodded. He reached for his undershirt. “Then you fared better than me, when it came to scars.” He pulled off the shirt.
There were minor scars in several places on his body, but there was a major scar right near his heart. In the moonlight it looked dark. Brody imagined it was red in daylight. Will turned and Brody saw a long, wriggling scar along his back, high up under the shoulder blade.
“In the twenty years before I was made I did what I am still doing now. Mercenary. Soldier for hire. But I was mortal then and the scars I got didn’t disappear like they do now.” Will turned back to face Brody and removed his hose and shoes so that he was naked. “I’m marked by my profession.”
But that wasn’t what Brody was looking at. Rather, his gaze was caught by the perfect symmetry of Will’s body. The man had a lot of muscle—far more of it than most men Brody had ever met. The muscle swelled and bulged and curved in a way that made Will’s flesh dip and rise intriguingly. When he had turned to show the scar on his back, Brody had also seen the hard buttocks and taut thighs and the curve of the broad back down to them.
From between Will’s thighs, his cock was standing erect. It wasn’t as thick as Brody’s, but it was possibly longer and the head flared wider, with the thick tracery of veins that showed on a man with pale skin.
Brody stepped onto the cover and felt rich embroidery under his toes. He wondered where Will had acquired it, but the thought faded. Will drew him closer, his hand on his hip.
Brody stroked the scar on Will’s chest, feeling the roughness of old skin healed badly. He let his fingers slid down over the flat stomach and felt it quiver in response. Then the sensitive thin skin by the hipbones. He stroked Will’s cock with his fingertips and it jerked. He gripped it and stroked more firmly.
Will hissed, his hips shifting.
Brody, enjoying the petty control over such a powerful man, kept stroking and teasing. He let his thumb drift over the seam on the underside of Will’s cock.
Will grabbed Brody’s wrist and squeezed. “Enough,” he said hoarsely. “I will not have you finish me this way. Not this time.”
This time. Brody wanted to protest at the implied assumption but didn’t, because he would be a hypocrite if he did. He already knew he wanted Will again after this night.
“You might as well get comfortable, Brendan,” Will told him, turning and heading for the tent. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”
Brody shuddered as he watched Will walk away. The shudder wasn’t in fear or distaste, either. His body was suddenly throbbing with great need and desire again.
Will stepped inside the tent and emerged with a small bottle in his hand. Brody recognize it more by intent than content. Oil.
His body tightened even more. His cock was spear-straight and hard as a rock against his stomach.
“Lie down,” Will told him as he returned.
“Brody,” Brody said. Even his voice sounded strained. “My name is Brody.”
Will paused. “That’s something we don’t usually give out easily. Brody.”
“I won’t have you fuck me without it.”
Will nodded slowly. “You’d better call me Veris, then.” He grinned. “It’s not my real name, but it’s my own adopted one. No one can wrap their tongue around my real name.”
“What is your real name?”
“Väinämöinen.”
Brody smiled. “I’ll call you Veris, too.”
Veris stepped closed enough that their chests touched and their cocks brushed against each other. “I’ll have you calling my name as you come, Brody.” His hand was heavy on Brody’s shoulder as he pushed Brody down onto the cover.
Brody sank down, his heart thundering, his arousal a tight coil in the pit of his stomach once more. His balls were two heavy, hard masses between his thighs. Will—Veris—opened his thighs and settled between them. He po
ured a little of the oil onto his palm and spread it on his own cock and more of it with slow, teasing strokes over Brody’s. Then down to his anus and perineum. Again with slow deliberation.
Brody was twitching with anticipation.
Veris finished with a squeeze of Brody’s balls. Brody just about cried out then. He half lifted himself up off the ground.
He felt the nudge of Veris’ cock against him and drew a breath, letting himself relax, letting Veris in. Veris pushed inside and it was…good. Hard, heavenly. Oddly familiar.
Veris’ hand curled around Brody’s cock and stroked as his own cock thrust again.
Brody clawed at the cover. “Harder.”
“I won’t last.”
“I don’t care. Not this time.”
“Then we agree.” Veris lowered himself over Brody, resting on his elbows. There was a shallow furrow between his brows. “This is too pleasurable to last much longer.” He lifted Brody’s thigh and began to ram into him in hard, heavy strokes.
It was exactly what Brody wanted. He grabbed the back of Veris’ head with one hand and his shoulder with the other. His canines had extended again. There was a roaring in his head, growing louder as his climax approached, no longer brought on by Veris’ hand, but by the pressure between the two of them and the rough chaffing of their flesh. It was all he needed, now, to tip over into orgasm.
As it hit, there was an almost overwhelming desire to lift up and bite into Veris’ neck with his fangs. Something like feeding, but not exactly like it. It was connected with his growing feelings for the man above him. Instinct was driving him, but Brody had fought long and hard against his vampire nature and he mistrusted most of the instincts that rose in him until he had explored them thoroughly.
This one, though, was blind and powerful. He fought it, his fangs brushing against Veris’ neck. He realized his fingers were digging into Veris’ shoulder, his hand holding Veris head in a vice grip, just like he would hold a victim steady for feeding, while his fangs brushed and stroked over Veris’ skin.
Brody forced himself to let Veris go. He fell back against the cover, his heart thundering. He forced his canines back. “What was that?” he muttered.
Veris rolled onto his side, leaving a few inches between them. “You were going to bite me. A permanent bonding.” His voice was neutral.
“A…permanent…” Brody licked his lips. “I assure you, I had no idea what I was doing just then. I’m not even sure I had any real control. I—”
Veris touched his finger to Brody’s lips. It was enough to make him fall silent.
“You really don’t know enough about your own nature, do you?” Veris said, not unkindly.
Brody rubbed between his brows. “Apparently not.”
Veris settled more comfortably on his side, propping his head on his hand. “You won’t like this analogy much, but it’s the best I can do. You know how—”
“What’s an analogy?”
Veris hesitated. “For now, don’t worry about it. It’s not important. But—”
“Only if you explain it to me later.”
“I will,” Veris said. “I promise.”
“So now tell me about this analogy I won’t like.”
Veris laughed. “Even uneducated, you keep up well enough. You’re going to be dangerous once I’m through with you.”
Brody felt a warm glow at the implications behind his words. “The analogy,” he prompted.
“You know how a wolf marks his territory? So that others won’t try to take it over?”
Brody scowled. “Is an analogy a way of comparing things? Because I didn’t try to urinate on you, which would make it a bad analogy indeed.”
Veris threw his head back and roared with laughter. When he had himself under control, he sighed. “You now understand what an analogy is,” he told Brody. “And you did try to mark me. You did it as instinctively as the wolf does. But something stopped you from actually taking the bite.” His smile faded. “You fought the instinct.”
“Yes,” Brody agreed. “If I had bitten you, how seriously does the vampire world take that marking? Would they consider you to be…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.
“Yours?” Veris finished the sentence for him soberly. “Oh yes, we obey these bondings in utter faith. They’re always instinctive. Not made in haste or consciously, where errors might occur. If you find yourself marking another, it’s because your vampire sense has directed you to make that other your permanent bond partner for reasons beyond logic or question.”
“You would have let me do it?” Brody said in growing wonder.
“You wouldn’t have let me do otherwise,” Veris corrected.
Brody sat up. “That is insanity! How could I know…how could my vampire instincts know such a thing, in such a short space of time?”
“It’s instinctive,” Veris said calmly.
“And you would have accepted that? You?”
Veris sat up. “You didn’t take the bite, Brody. The question doesn’t need to be answered.”
Brody sorted through that sideways answer. “You wouldn’t have liked it,” he concluded. “You wouldn’t have liked having the choice taken from you. You’ve been free too long.”
Veris smiled a little. “No, I wouldn’t have. But I would have accepted it. We must, if that is what happens. And in truth, yours is a bond I think I could wear without chaffing.”
“You think.” Brody stared at him. “You’ve never had a real master, have you?”
Veris frowned.
“You’ve always been for hire. Your own man at heart,” Brody concluded.
Veris shifted and faced Brody squarely. He turned his head, so that his neck, thick with muscle and sinew, was bared. “You want to take that bite, Brody? Take it. Now.”
Brody recoiled a little. “No.”
“In cold blood and in full judgment,” Veris insisted. “Take the bite.”
Brody grabbed Veris’ chin and wrenched his head around so he could see into his eyes. “No,” he said flatly. “I will never mark you, not even if my instincts are driving me blind with need to do it. You are your own master. I won’t take that from you. I know what it is like to be without it.”
He got up from the cover and headed back to the mare, picking up his clothes as he went.
Chapter Seven
“And?” Taylor prompted, when Brody paused.
“And what?” He grimaced. “It’s a story that extends for another six hundred years. How long do you want me to go on?”
“I don’t need huge amounts of detail,” she told him.
“Thank heavens for that,” he muttered.
“Just the basics of what happened. You can’t leave me hanging!”
Brody stared at her. Then he smiled a slow, wicked smile. “I hooked you,” he said. “I hooked you like a fish.”
She laughed a little. “Hell, yeah.” She wriggled on her cushion, trying to find a more comfortable position. “And that’s not all.”
Brody’s eyes narrowed. “I see,” he said, his voice growing thicker, heavier.
“Do you think…” she began, then cleared her throat. “I think you should stop wearing underwear immediately. Just hose and your tunic. I love the idea. I bet Veris would, too. He did the first time.”
She heard his heavy exhalation. “Come here,” he said softly, his voice thick with arousal.
“You should save yourself for Veris.”
“Fuck that. Come here.”
“What language is it you two are speaking?” said another voice entirely, from outside the tent.
Taylor slapped her hand over her mouth as a shriek of shock tried to escape from it.
It was Veris standing at the formal entrance to the tent, just beyond the thin white gauze, staring at them as they sat talking to each other in English.
“It almost sounds like Saxon, but not quite,” Veris continued. “I feel like if I listened long enough, I might actually begin to understand it. Yet t
here are parts of it so strange I know they can’t possibly be Saxon roots at all.”
“You’re right, they aren’t,” Brody agreed, standing up. He was naked, but he made no move to put on any clothes. Instead, he opened the tent flap and let Veris in. After a moment, Veris stepped through.
Taylor shrugged off the rendered tunic she was wearing and handed it to Brody. He slipped his arms into it but there wasn’t any way to keep it closed permanently, so as he moved the tunic gaped open, giving glimpses of his nude body.
Veris kept his eyes averted most of the time, but Taylor caught him stealing glimpses every now and again as they spoke.
“I could not help but listen to your conversation. It was…” He hesitated, looking from one to the other of them. “Forgive me, but even though the language was strange, some of the words were familiar enough for me to pick up a sense of your subject. You were being…frank.” He glanced at Brody as he said it.
Had Veris heard his own name among the gibberish? Taylor wondered. Even if he had, he may not have picked it up with their English accents, or even realized they had been referring to him. He didn’t know they knew his real name.
“You were not speaking Saxon, were you?” Veris pressed.
Taylor switched over to Saxon. “We would have sounded like this if we were speaking Saxon.”
Veris’ eyes narrowed as he studied her. “You have an almost perfect accent. You are not Saxon, though, are you?”
“No, neither of us is Saxon. We would not mislead you that way,” Taylor assured him. “Although, clearly, your own roots are Saxon, no?”
Veris nodded. “My family heritage goes back to when the Vikings first arrived in Britain in the mid-fifth century.”
“Are you talking about King Arthur?” Brody asked, resting an arm along the back of the chair. “Camlann?” His pose had the effect of opening up the tunic again. Taylor hid her grin.
Veris whirled to face Brody again. “You know about that?”
“I have heard about it. There was a crazy old man in Gwynedd where I was born who knew all the stories and told them over and over.”
Kiss Across Swords (Kiss Across Time Series) Page 10