The Artist’s Masquerade

by Antonia Aquilante

  He reached for his usual mask, but wasn’t sure he succeeded in donning it. His fingers curled into Cathal’s shoulders, somewhere between holding on and pushing away. “What are you doing? Put me down this instant.”

  “No.”

  Flavian gasped and sputtered at Cathal’s calm refusal. “You’re crazy. Put me down before someone sees us.”

  “No,” Cathal repeated, just as evenly, but before Flavian could say anything, Cathal lowered his head and crushed his lips to Flavian’s. Flavian went rigid. He wasn’t certain what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this, not this blatantly claiming kiss. He held himself apart as long as he could—he did not want to give in to his attraction, could not afford to give in to Cathal.

  But he wanted to. Oh, did he want to. And Cathal’s lips moving firmly against his, Cathal’s tongue exploring his mouth, seeking out spots that made him shiver, chipped away at his resistance until he just let go, let himself enjoy. Let himself melt into Cathal and kiss him back. It was going to be a disaster—if someone didn’t come around the corner and see them, then Cathal would soon be unable to pretend Flavian was anything but a man under his gown and reject him. Then everything would come tumbling down around Flavian, and he should care, especially about the first, but with Cathal pressed against him, he found it very difficult to do so.

  And when Cathal swept his tongue over one spot on the roof of Flavian’s mouth, he found it impossible. He gasped, then moaned, his hands most assuredly clutching Cathal closer. He couldn’t even pretend to be pushing the man away. He slid one hand behind Cathal’s neck, anchoring Cathal where Flavian wanted him.

  Cathal, of course, chose that moment to end their kiss, leaving Flavian panting for breath and with a sinking sensation in his stomach. But Cathal’s face was fierce with desire.

  “Neither of us is going back to the party. And neither of us is going to his bedchamber alone.” Cathal’s voice was low, almost a growl, rough with all the want Cathal seemed to have for Flavian.

  Flavian froze; everything froze. He might have even stopped breathing for a moment as he grasped what Cathal was saying. He needed to refuse. He should refuse.

  He nodded.

  The heat in Cathal’s eyes flared. He swept Flavian into another bruising kiss, stealing all thought from Flavian’s mind. Flavian didn’t want to take back his assent, not really. He wanted more of Cathal’s kisses, wanted Cathal’s hands on him. But dread welled up inside him too, despite how he wished it didn’t.

  Flavian half-expected Cathal to just carry him wherever he wanted to take him—back to that little room with the lovely lights was his guess, as it was close and private—but Cathal surprised him on both counts. He set Flavian back on his feet, letting him slide down Cathal’s body, rubbing against all that firm flesh. They both moaned and just stood for a moment, pressed against each other, breathing.

  Finally, Cathal stepped away and took Flavian’s hand. He turned them back in the direction Flavian had been going and took the right-hand corridor, tugging Flavian along with him. Away from the convenient room they had just left.

  After a few moments, as Flavian began to worry about someone seeing them holding hands in the corridor, Cathal stopped in front of a large painting of a man and a horse. He reached behind the right side of the frame. Something clicked, and the section of wall swung out. Flavian’s mouth dropped open, and he stumbled as Cathal pulled him through the opening into what had to be a secret passage.

  The wall swung closed behind them as lights came on down the corridor, the white glass globes balanced in silver sconces spaced at intervals along the stone walls emitting a soft glow that lit the passage comfortably. Magic.

  “A secret passage?” Flavian’s astonishment nearly pushed every other thing he was feeling out of his mind. He’d never been in a secret passage before.

  “I suppose you could call it that.” Cathal tugged on Flavian’s hand, getting him moving again.

  “Who knows about these?”

  Cathal slanted a look at him. “You really want to talk about this now?”

  Well, it might distract him from the mixture of anxiety and anticipation that threatened to send him running in the opposite direction. “Yes.”

  “All right.” Cathal’s voice alone told Flavian how odd Cathal thought he was being. “Very few people know about these passages. There is a set that the servants use, but these are separate. Philip and Amory know about them, and Etan as well. I assume my father does, since he grew up in the palace.”

  Flavian let Cathal lead him, winding through the narrow secret corridor. He glanced behind them. The lights winked out after they passed by, leaving the corridor behind them black as pitch. He shivered. He wouldn’t want to be lost in this maze.

  “Philip and I used to run through the palace this way when we were children. They’re still the best way to get around if you want to avoid being seen or having to talk to anyone.”

  “I would get lost. If I could even find my way back into them.” It truly was a maze, even more so than the rest of the palace.

  “It’s confusing at first. Etan got lost when he was small. He wandered in and couldn’t find a way out again.”

  Scary thought. Etan had been a child, but Flavian didn’t know his way around either. Cathal better not leave him alone. “Where are the ways out?”

  “There are many of them. It isn’t just one hidden corridor—it’s a whole network of them.” Cathal stopped them in front of a stone wall marked with a square of mosaic tile in an intricate pattern. “This entrance is across the hall from my suite. Your suite is in that direction.”

  Cathal gestured away from the way they came, before depressing four tiles in the mosaic in succession. The wall swung open into a dim alcove. Cathal ushered him out of the passage and whisked him across the hall and into Cathal’s suite, the door closing behind them with a click that sounded terribly final.

  Lamps burned low in what Flavian saw was a mid-sized sitting room. He got a quick impression of deep, masculine colors and comfortable furniture and a glimpse of a landscape painting hanging over the large, red marble fireplace mantle. Desire and anticipation might have set every inch of his body humming, but nerves made him all too willing to be distracted by a potentially interesting piece of art. He took one step toward the fireplace.

  Strong arms caught him for the second time that night, but this time he wasn’t surprised to feel those arms surrounding him. He was pulled back against Cathal’s hard body, the pull both gentle and determined. Flavian’s breath caught as Cathal’s lips came down on his neck, nibbling and kissing as Cathal cradled Flavian close.

  It was… odd. What Cathal’s mouth was doing to that spot on his neck sent shivery heat racing through his whole body and tore a moan from his throat that was almost embarrassingly wanton. But he was also being held firmly yet so carefully, Cathal’s arms curving around him in a way that was almost protective. He didn’t understand it. Cathal had thrown him against a wall moments ago, and now, he was… what?

  “I’m not really a woman, you know,” he rasped out.

  “For the last time, I’m quite aware of that.” Cathal’s voice was lower, rougher, enough to send another shiver through Flavian, and that was before he felt Cathal’s low chuckle rumbling through the places where they touched. “Come to bed, Flavian.”

  He tried to hold on to his annoyance. It would be all he had to get him through when Cathal came to his senses and threw Flavian out of bed. But he was having a difficult time doing it. Cathal’s actions, his care, had Flavian both aroused and off-balance, not sure exactly what was going to happen. He allowed Cathal to lead him into the bedchamber.

  Flavian managed even less of an impression of the room before his attention was captured by the bed that dominated it. It was large, enormous really, and piled with pillows and coverlets in soft fabrics. Cathal stepped in front of him, blocking Flavian’s view of the bed. Probably best—he had been staring. Thinking of all the things that could be done
in a bed like that. Wondering what he and Cathal would do tonight in that bed.

  Cathal’s eyes seemed to glow in the low light of the room. He cupped Flavian’s cheek with one large hand, his thumb moving in a caress so gentle, so slow and sensual, Flavian’s breath actually stuttered. Cathal lowered and brought his lips to Flavian’s, brushing a soft kiss to Flavian’s mouth, then another, and finally sinking into a deep, slow kiss. It was as passionate as any other they’d shared but far less frantic. Flavian wanted the frantic feeling back—at least that he understood.

  But Cathal drew back even as Flavian pushed forward into the kiss. “What—”

  “Just wait,” Cathal whispered and stepped behind Flavian. Before Flavian could say anything else, he felt the bodice of his gown loosening. He hadn’t thought Cathal would undress him, would want Flavian to undress. Much more difficult for Cathal to pretend Flavian was a woman if he was naked.

  But Cathal was undressing him, removing the gown with an ease that Flavian didn’t yet have with women’s clothing. But Cathal probably had more experience with it, or at least with removing it, than Flavian did.

  Cathal didn’t stop at Flavian’s gown. He went on to remove each piece of Flavian’s clothing, making each movement a caress, skimming off undergarments, slowly smoothing down stockings. By the time he finished the agonizingly slow process, Flavian was barely holding back from begging. He didn’t know what he would beg for—for the pleasurable torture to end, for Cathal to do something, anything….

  The feel of Cathal’s hands moving over him… it was almost too much. He squeezed his eyes shut, not looking as Cathal untied his second garter and rolled the delicate stocking down his leg, lifting Flavian’s foot to draw the silk away. He tried not to think about what Cathal would do when presented with Flavian’s naked body and the visual proof that he was indeed a man.

  His eyes flew open at the press of lips to the inside of his knee. He froze. Cathal was on his knees in front of Flavian, still fully clothed but with the wickedest grin on his face Flavian had ever seen. It sent his stomach swooping despite his confusion. Cathal’s grin only widened. Flavian bristled to see his amusement, but as he was opening his mouth, Cathal brushed a kiss to Flavian’s thigh.

  His mouth snapped closed with what he thought might have been an audible snap. It wasn’t something Flavian saw often, someone on his knees before him, let alone a man like Cathal. Cathal chuckled low in his throat and trailed his fingers lightly up Flavian’s thighs. He shivered as heat raced through his body at the touch of those fingers. Cathal kissed his hipbone, prominent in his slender frame, and Flavian’s breath caught in his chest. After brushing a kiss over his other hipbone, Cathal pulled back and just looked at Flavian.

  Flavian’s stomach twisted with dread, but Cathal smiled again, still a bit wicked but softer, and stood, trailing his fingers over Flavian’s hard length in a caress that was almost too gentle. It ripped a moan from Flavian’s throat despite his intentions to remain reserved.

  Cathal kissed him again, pulling Flavian’s body flush to his own. It was a slow, thorough kiss and no less passionate for being that way. Perhaps more passionate—it was certainly more devastating than any kiss Flavian had ever experienced. And he just… surrendered to it. He didn’t want to let Cathal draw him in, but his body had different ideas, and it was dragging him with it despite Flavian’s common sense.

  He clutched at Cathal’s shoulders, broad, strong shoulders. Cathal’s clothes rubbed against Flavian’s skin, the nakedness, the sensation of silk against bare skin odd but not at all unpleasant. He slid against Cathal as they kissed, enjoying the sensuous feeling. Until he wanted more.

  He tugged at Cathal’s sleeve. “Take this off. Get undressed.”

  Cathal didn’t argue as Flavian half-expected him to, though he wasn’t certain why he expected it. Cathal had led them here, to this place; Cathal had removed Flavian’s clothing. Why would Cathal balk at removing his own? Flavian didn’t know, but he didn’t know much tonight. Confusion swirled through him as pervasively as desire—with every one of Cathal’s gentle touches, it grew. Everything he thought he knew about Cathal, about himself, about what they were doing, became jumbled and uncertain.

  Cathal took one small step back and began removing his own clothing. He was far less careful than he had been while undressing Flavian. He unfastened only what was necessary to pull off each layer, his movements quick and urgent yet somehow still elegant, graceful as Cathal always was.

  Flavian itched to reach out and help, to pull away Cathal’s clothes himself, not only because Cathal wasn’t moving fast enough but also because he wanted to do it. He wanted to be the one revealing each bit of skin to his gaze. He wanted to touch and pet and drive Cathal as close to the edge as Cathal had Flavian. He wanted to speed everything up, to put them back in a place he understood. Clear up his confusion, one way or another.

  He reached out as Cathal pulled his shirt off over his head. His hands landed on Cathal’s bare chest, and for a moment he was distracted by the sight, the feel. The muscular chest with its covering of dark hair. Smooth skin under his palms and hair, silkier than he would have thought, tangling around his fingers. All of it so very good. He’d seen Cathal in a wet, clinging shirt but even that hadn’t given Flavian a true picture of what was beneath it.

  Cathal shivered under his hands, and Flavian smiled, pleased he could have that effect on Cathal. He let his fingers drift, exploring, over the broad chest and flat stomach and lower, smoothing over the bulge in the front of Cathal’s snug breeches. Cathal groaned at the touch, and Flavian felt a bit smug, knew it showed in his smile.

  But as he reached for the fastenings on Cathal’s breeches, Cathal caught his hands and pulled them away. Dread washed away every other feeling with a flood of sickening cold. Flavian snapped his head up to look at Cathal. But Cathal was smiling, amused, wicked, perhaps even a little affectionate. But that couldn’t be right.

  Cathal just raised Flavian’s hands to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to each of Flavian’s palms. Flavian was afraid his mouth had actually dropped open, he was so surprised, and from Cathal’s chuckle, he thought perhaps it had.

  “Just wait. Patience.” Cathal pressed another kiss to Flavian’s hands and took a moment just looking at them, carefully massaging and caressing them, before he placed them on his own shoulders with a pat that clearly said keep them there. All while Flavian stared at him dumbly.

  Once Cathal seemed confident that Flavian would follow his instruction, he spent a few moments studying Flavian in a way that was so intense it felt like a touch itself. Desire curled in Flavian’s stomach again even before Cathal began actually touching him, long sweeping caresses over Flavian’s arms and chest and back. When Cathal’s hands dipped lower to curve around Flavian’s bottom, he whispered hoarsely, “Cathal.”

  Cathal smiled again and finally reached down himself to unfasten his breeches. He gave them a little push and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them and into Flavian’s arms. Flavian didn’t get more than a glimpse of the rest of Cathal before they were pressed together again, but that was all right. That was fine. He could look later. For the moment, he was going to revel in the feel of skin on skin. It was so good, it tore a moan from him.

  But that was all right too, because Cathal moaned as well. They both huffed out a quiet laugh before Cathal lowered his lips to Flavian’s, but the kiss was light and far too short. Flavian tried to pull him back, but Cathal was already brushing those light little kisses over Flavian’s cheek, his throat, until he found that spot on Flavian’s neck and began to suck lightly on it.

  Flavian shivered and clutched at Cathal as the sensation arrowed straight through him. With a groan, he wrapped an arm around Cathal’s shoulders and dragged Cathal’s mouth back to his, pulling him into a greedy kiss. Cathal’s arms circled his waist, holding him tight and lifting him off the ground. Before he could do more than stiffen in Cathal’s arms, he was swung around and deposited
on the bed, Cathal following him down so they both sank into piles of soft pillows.

  He managed to tear his mouth from Cathal’s on a gasp, even as his legs fell open to let Cathal settle between them. “I’m not a girl. You have to stop picking me up like that.”

  “Oh, I’m quite aware you are not a girl.” Cathal reached between them and gave Flavian one slow, firm stroke. Flavian moaned and arched into it, and Cathal smiled, but he looked almost wondering and maybe a little unsure. But Cathal was far too confident for that to be true.

  And then Cathal was kissing him again, another deep, slow kiss. They almost felt drugging these kisses, and Flavian pushed up into them, greedy for more as he wrapped his arms around Cathal, letting his hands roam the smooth skin of Cathal’s back.

  Cathal seemed content to keep kissing all night, and part of Flavian wanted that as well. He’d never done that before, just lie with someone without a stitch of clothing between them and kiss for hours. Long, slow kisses and Cathal’s surprisingly smooth skin against his. Cathal’s hands gentle on Flavian’s body. Those kisses left his head swimming and his stomach fluttering with something that wasn’t just desire. And they felt better than maybe anything ever had.

  Which was scary and confusing too, and he squirmed a little, wondering exactly what was happening. What did Cathal want? Why was he treating Flavian so… carefully? Why was he doing this at all?

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He arched his hips up, rubbing against Cathal, and was rewarded with a harsh groan. Flavian smiled into the kiss, enjoying Cathal’s response, enjoying even more when Cathal pushed back against him, bearing him down into the soft mattress and rubbing right back against Flavian. Curving a leg around Cathal’s hip, Flavian pulled him in tight so they could thrust against each other and moaned at the delicious friction of Cathal’s hip against him. Moaned into the kiss that still hadn’t ended.