by Ariel Tachna
The forms of the dance brought the two men close, then sent them spinning apart again. They paid minimal attention to their partners, all their awareness focused on each other. Rhicer grimaced when he saw Kanath’s dancing partner, the knowledge that his lover had chosen Hinia salt in his wounds. He knew Kanath’s opinion of the insufferably vain chit, knew Kanath would never have chosen to dance with her normally, which meant that the young man was deliberately teasing him, dancing purely to provoke Rhicer. Face hardening, he turned away, unwilling to watch her hands on his Kanath. Anger grew within him at the unfairness of the situation, at the strictures of society that let that little slut put her hands all over Kanath with impunity while he, who loved Kanath beyond reason, was condemned to watch in ever-mounting frustration.
A pained gasp from Blacha drew his attention. “My apologies, Mistress,” he said softly. “I am not fit company tonight.”
“Perhaps a glass of wine would lift your spirits,” she suggested cajolingly. “Or would you rather slip away somewhere private? I am sure I could improve your mood.”
Rhicer frowned. Always before, she would have been right. Her clever hands and cleverer mouth would have had him climaxing in a matter of minutes, and she would have done it willingly, knowing that he would return the favor tenfold when they had more time. Now, though, it was harder hands he craved, not her delicate fingers. “Not tonight,” he murmured. “We cannot leave until our lord and lady have retired. You know that.”
Blacha’s lips curled in frustration as she listened to the feeble excuse. “That did not stop your lieutenant from sneaking out during the feast,” she pointed out cattily.
“That was different!” Rhicer protested. “I spilled ale all over him. He simply went to clean up his tunic. And he went out and returned alone.” And he better not have met anyone while outside, Rhicer’s jealous mind growled. “What you are suggesting would be the height of folly, tonight of all nights.”
Blacha thought her sometimes-lover was showing far too much attention to the sensibilities of a foreign upstart, but she said nothing. She knew Rhicer well enough to know that when he got in one of his moods, he would not be swayed. “Then I will take my leave,” she declared with a peremptory curtsy.
Before he could react, before he could look for Kanath, a heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder. “What did you do to set the lass off this time?” Rynes’ deep voice asked teasingly.
Rhicer breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, distracting company that would demand nothing more of him than he was willing to give! “She wanted to slip away into a dark hallway or empty room,” Rhicer explained easily. “I didn’t think tonight was the time for such indiscretions.”
“We’re at a wedding feast, Rhicer! How could it not be the right time?” Rynes demanded incredulously.
“We’re at the wedding feast of our lord and a Mordyn princess,” Rhicer elucidated. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to cause insult. When they have left, then I can slip away.”
Thinking it safe to stand with Rhicer as long as Rynes was there as well, Kanath joined the other two men just in time to hear Rhicer’s last words. Anger and jealousy, calmed somewhat by seeing Mistress Rynyl leave, sprang to life again. Did he mean so little to Rhicer that his captain was planning an assignation under his very nose? Turning on his heel, he stalked away, grabbing a flagon of ale from the table and downing it in one gulp.
“What’s bothering the pup tonight?” Rynes inquired, catching the anger on Kanath’s face and seeing his reaction, but unaware of the cause.
For the first time in his life, Rhicer lied to Rynes. “I have no idea.”
He did know, though, as clearly as if he could see into Kanath’s head. He chafed at the restrictions that kept him from pulling the other man into an embrace, from shaking him for being so silly as to imagine Rhicer could prefer any woman’s company to his.
“Well, keep an eye on him,” Rynes advised. “If he gets drunk and stupid, he’s far more likely to cause insult than you would have slipping away discreetly.”
Rhicer sighed. Rynes had just given him reason to do what he had wanted to all evening—hover at Kanath’s side—and yet he knew that doing so would only exacerbate the situation. Their proximity would send the lust neither of them could seem to contain spinning back out of control again, and one of two things would certainly happen. They would either end up making a scene because they were arguing or they would make a scene because they would no longer be able to keep their hands to themselves. Neither option seemed like a good idea to Rhicer, but he was the cause of Kanath’s budding drunken rampage, and he could not simply wash his hands of the situation.
Fortunately, the prince chose that moment to call for the court’s attention, thanking them for their well-wishes. Extending his hand to his lady, they excused themselves amid applause and catcalls, leaving the court to continue its celebration without them.
The ladies of the court excused themselves quickly as well, leaving the soldiers and those few women whose only interest was finding a bed partner for the night. Using the general chaos as an excuse to seek out Kanath, Rhicer discovered that his quarry was more adept than he expected, staying one step ahead of him while still drinking steadily. Growing frustrated, Rhicer abandoned the chase, trying to formulate another plan. If Kanath would not consent to be caught, perhaps he could be enticed into doing the capturing.
Following one of the women out of the hall, he waited in the shadows of the darkened corridor to see if Kanath would take his bait.
Inside, Kanath’s anger finally slipped the weakened leash of his control when he saw Rhicer accept one of the trollop’s invitations and follow her out the door. Throwing the flagon in his hand to the floor, he stormed after his lover, determined to set the other man straight. Rhicer was his and no light-skirted whore was going to steal him away. He had taken no more than two steps down the shadowy passage when hard hands closed over his shoulders. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Rhicer’s voice demanded in his ear.
Kanath sagged against Rhicer in relief, his back pressing down the long length of the captain’s body. So pleased was he not to find the other man with some woman that he did not even react to the sensation of his fellow soldier’s erection prodding his backside vigorously. Then the angry words penetrated the fog of alcohol and lust. “Me?” he hissed, turning to face Rhicer. “What about you, strutting around the room, letting Blacha rub up against you like a cat in heat?”
“I didn’t—” Rhicer began, but the rest of his words never came. Kanath’s lips silenced them, pressing hard against Rhicer’s in a sloppy, drunken kiss. Shocked, he stood there and let it happen.
Kanath drew back in panic. Earlier, he had berated himself for his actions at the feast, but this was much worse, much more personally intimate. He took one step back, then another, intending to turn and flee. He never got the chance.
Shock wearing off, Rhicer felt Kanath withdraw. “Hell, no,” he muttered, grabbing the younger man’s shoulders and spinning him around, slamming him hard against the wall. “You don’t get to kiss me and run.”
Before Kanath could reply to that, Rhicer’s mouth settled over his, lips moving hungrily, urgently. Kanath gasped beneath the onslaught, lips parting on the sudden inhalation. Rhicer took advantage immediately, tongue surging inside to taste and plunder and claim. Kanath arched forward, head tipping back as he stopped fighting against the love and lust that had assailed him all evening. He could taste the ale from dinner on Rhicer’s lips still, and another, deeper flavor that was Rhicer’s own. Sucking eagerly on the invading muscle, he memorized the taste, afraid he might never have another chance.
Eventually, the need to breathe forced Rhicer to lift his head. As he stood there, body throbbing with unquenched desire, the reality of what they were doing—and where they were doing it—hit him hard. He took a hesitant step back, intending to ask Kanath to come to his chambers with him. Before he could speak, though, his lover ran like a frightened doe. Pa
nting still, Rhicer let him go. Horny as hell and half-drunk was not the way to have the conversation they clearly needed to have. With a muffled groan, he resigned himself to another night alone.
Lying alone in his cold bed, Rhicer mulled over the evening and all that had transpired. He had hoped that the distance between him and Kanath over the past week would allow their emotions to settle. Clearly, that had not worked. As soon as they had come together again, the passion had exploded between them, stronger than ever, pushing them both to behave far more rashly than usual. Even at his most desperate or daring, he had never kissed a woman the way he had Kanath tonight, in a corridor, where anyone could stumble across them. He had always at least had the presence of mind to pull a prospective lover into an empty room. Yet he had not hesitated to pin Kanath against the wall and ravish his mouth.
Kissing Kanath bore no resemblance to kissing any woman, though. No woman had ever responded so aggressively to his kiss, had ever fought him for control the way Kanath had done. His cock sprang to life instantly at the thought of the way his lieutenant’s hard body had pushed against his. Sliding his hand beneath the covers, he stroked firmly, twisting his wrist to apply just the degree of friction he enjoyed best. His mind raced at the feeling of his own hard flesh, remembering the fleeting sensation of Kanath’s cock in his hand. Still stroking lightly, he struggled to work his mind around this new reality, where he could yearn to feel another man’s erection in his fist, another man’s hand around his shaft. Somewhat to his surprise, his cock did not wilt at the thought.
Pensively, he considered the mechanics of making love to a man. As wrong as he had always believed that to be, he had heard whispered tales of barbarian warriors who practiced such acts openly, forming bonds that lasted as long as any marriage. Such tales had always been greeted with scorn and derision, and Rhicer had been as apt to discount them as anyone else, but now he wondered. With a woman, it was obvious, but how could that work with a man? His hand stroked again as he pondered the possibilities.
Certainly, they could caress each other as he was touching himself now. A moan escaped his lips as he imagined Kanath’s hand on his cock, stroking him slowly at first, and then with increasing speed and strength. His hand would be callused from sword fighting, much the way Rhicer’s own hand was, instead of soft and smooth like a woman’s.
They could take each other in their mouths as some of the women had done to him. It was a form of lovemaking he had always enjoyed, the sweet taste of a woman’s warm folds, her heady scent enticing him to take his time and savor. Would Kanath taste as sweet? His fingers tightened on his cock as he imagined Kanath’s lips stretching around his girth. That part was easy to imagine, but he would not ask his lover to do something he himself was not willing to do in return. Curious, he caught a drop of welling fluid from the tip of his erection and lifted it to his mouth, sucking on his thumb to catch the flavor. It was different from a woman’s juices, but not repellant. He caught another drop and tasted again. Perhaps it would not be so terrible a thing to try.
The thought of sharing such intimacies with Kanath had him throbbing, aching for a hand other than his own, for lips to kiss, a body to explore and devour. Images of the two of them entwined on his bed overwhelmed him, catapulting him into his release. Panting, he lay back and tried to relax. Maybe it would not be so awful to make love with a man instead of a woman. He would miss sinking into a woman’s moist, hot depths, though, miss feeling her muscles squeezing his cock, welcoming him in, meeting him thrust for thrust.
Horrified whispers returned to his memory, tales of men captured in battle forced to whore like women for barbarian tribes. He shuddered at the thought, his body immediately clenching against such an invasion. Surely he could not… and if he could not, he would not ask it of Kanath. Wiping his stomach clean, he turned on his side and sought refuge in dreams.
His final thoughts followed him into reverie, however, haunting him as he tossed and turned. He moaned in his sleep as he felt Kanath beneath him, looking up at him with trusting, lustful eyes as he thrust repeatedly into his lover’s hot depths, muscles clenching tighter than any woman’s ever had, squeezing him, milking every drop of fluid from his spasming cock as he came and came and came.
Cool sticky sheets woke him to the reality of yet another dream-induced climax. Sitting up, breath still fast, pulse pounding, he let the images of his dream filter into his conscious mind. Despite his instinctive revulsion, his subconscious clearly wanted more with Kanath than frottage and fellatio. He shuddered again, the teachings of a lifetime warring with the images from his dream. He had never questioned those teachings, perfectly content to take his pleasure with women, but his situation had changed now, and that meant exploring a new reality. The same practicality that had made him a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield came to the fore now, as he considered how he and Kanath might undertake a relationship. Whatever they decided, it would have to be clandestine. That much was a given. The question was what any such relationship might look like. He had rejected certain options out of long-ingrained habit, but his dreams suggested his heart was not as willing to set them aside as his mind. And if that was the case, then he needed to know if it was possible or just the half-formed fantasies of a lust-crazed mind. Reaching between his legs, he probed at the little hole, finally managing to force the tip of one finger inside, flinching as he did. This was not as easy as it seemed. With a woman, his fingers had always slid inside easily, her natural fluids easing the way. His own entrance was bone dry. His body was obviously not made to accommodate another man’s cock! Determined to see if this was even possible, not to mention pleasurable enough to propose to Kanath, Rhicer glanced around the room, searching for something he could use to imitate a woman’s inherent lubrication.
His eyes settled on the flaxseed oil he used to dampen his whetstone. It kept the stone from damaging his blades. It ought to ease this process as well. He set the small container on the bed next to him, dipping his finger in the viscous fluid, and tried again. The oil helped, but it was still an odd feeling. His body kept trying to expel the invader, clenching tightly around his digit. He could only imagine how that would feel around his cock, but if he could barely accept the tip of one finger comfortably, how was he supposed to consider pushing his erection into such a tight space?
After a few moments, he realized the pain had passed somewhat and, while he still felt oddly full, it no longer hurt. He pushed his finger in a little farther, stroking the walls of the passage the way he would a woman’s sheath. At first, he felt nothing special, but then the tip of his finger brushed a little bump and sparks danced before his eyes. Gasping, he tried again, with the same results. He had found the pleasure to be had. Now the only question that remained was one of size. He had felt Kanath’s cock and it was of much greater girth than his own index finger.
Withdrawing his finger, he looked down at his hand appraisingly, bunching his fingers together, trying to approximate the girth he had held in his hand so briefly at dinner that night. Taking a deep breath, trying to relax, he dipped three fingers in the oil and returned his hand to its explorations. Pushing hard against his entrance, he worked a second finger back in next to the first. It hurt, but then, one finger had hurt at first too. Reminding himself that there was pleasure to be found in this exercise, he tried to relax as he searched for the little bump again. Finding it, he worked it repeatedly until his muscles eased around the invasion. Taking another deep breath and trying not to tense, he pulled back and added a third finger, panting through the initial stretch. Eventually, though, his muscles relaxed and accommodated the digits inside him. Dropping his other hand to his resurgent erection, he stroked his shaft in time with the internal stimulation of his fingers.
In a surprisingly short amount of time, given he had climaxed twice already that night, he found himself teetering on the edge of release again. Eyes closing, he let his imagination change the scene to fit his desires, so that Kanath’s hand now surro
unded his aching erection, Kanath’s fingers—nay, Kanath’s cock—now stroked his insides. As soon as the image formed, his self-control deserted him and he collapsed onto the bed, Kanath’s name on his lips.
Sleep took him immediately, and if he dreamed again, he did not remember it in the morning.
Long before the sun rose, Kanath abandoned his bed and sought the comfort of the mews. Taen, his pride and joy, opened one eye sleepily before shutting it again, but she consented to his gentle stroking despite the early hour.
The mews and caring for Taen had provided Kanath a retreat, a place for quiet contemplation, for almost as long as he could remember. The prince had seen the boy hanging around the wooden structure even before he could talk, watching the birds, listening and absorbing what the falconers had to teach. He had encouraged his interest, promising that if he learned well and showed himself serious enough, he would see to it that Kanath received a bird of his own when he was old enough. Taen had been a present from his sovereign on his tenth birthday.
He retreated there now to struggle again with the events of the previous night’s feast. The potion was clearly more potent than he had previously thought, given the way he had acted during the meal and after. The whole situation frightened him.
There. He had said it. His mother always told him admitting to a fear was the most important step in overcoming it. Somehow, Kanath did not find that thought terribly reassuring at the moment. It had been one thing when he was out of control, but Rhicer had still managed to retain his command of the situation, providing Kanath with a means of escape for a few minutes during the feast. As the night wore on, though, his captain—his lover—had steadily lost control as well. In the crisp light of the dawning day, he could admit to the jealousy he had felt, admit to trying to spark an answering emotion inside Rhicer. He had obviously succeeded, far beyond his wildest expectations if Rhicer’s kiss was anything to go by.