by Mia West
Arthur looked up from where he’d been swirling his tongue through the hair on Bedwyr’s belly. “Comfortable?”
He pushed his fingers into Arthur’s hair, combing them through it. The only thing better would be to have a window here, so that the rising sun could gradually show him all of Arthur’s shades. But he would have to do with what little light slipped through under the eaves. “Carry on.”
Arthur worked his way downward, gently but directly, and soon he lay between Bedwyr’s sprawled legs. He pushed them wider, to make space for his shoulders, Bedwyr thought, until Arthur began to play with his sac.
“What are you up to?” he said, knowing Arthur was testing him and fighting the urge to knock his tickling fingers away.
“I like to see them loose. You’re hung like a bull.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm.”
He held his breath as Arthur cradled his sac, rolling the stones inside against his palm. Then, slowly, slowly, Arthur leaned in and curled his tongue under one and closed his mouth around it.
If it was possible to sink further into the bed, Bedwyr found a way. Closing his eyes, he could imagine he was floating in a warm pond under the sun, a very eager man between his legs.
His imagination only serving him so far, he opened his eyes again. This was better. He could see Arthur’s face this way, watch his expression change. His eyes were closed, and Bedwyr wondered what he saw in his mind. Or even what he tasted. Arthur’s skin was sweet, and tangy when he sweat. Bedwyr had developed a craving for it.
Arthur moaned softly, as if he couldn’t get enough. Even so, he let the stone go and brushed his lips up Bedwyr’s cock. It was standing now, the slit seeping. Arthur wrapped those long fingers around it, moving the sheath up and down as if they had all day. As much as it had felt that way when he woke, Bedwyr had to admit things had become more urgent now. With his hand on Arthur’s head, he guided him to swallow it.
Arthur surrounded him with wet heat, which was enough, but then he sucked the length, and that was better. As it was every time they did this. But it was good to be certain.
Arthur took him down again and hummed around him, his hips pushing into the mattress. It was a signal of sorts—among those they never discussed but understood anyway, whether they were fighting or fucking. Bedwyr thrust upward. Arthur groaned, and Bedwyr thrust again. Another groan, another thrust—
A shout sounded from the main room.
Bedwyr sat up, startled. “What—”
“Brother!” came a shout. “Roust yourself!”
Arthur rose off him, gasping a whispered, “Cai.”
Gwen, or maybe Elain, said something. Bedwyr couldn’t hear the words, but he jumped when his bedchamber door rattled in its frame. Thank the gods he’d bolted it.
“Bed! Get out of bed!” Cai laughed at his joke. “Rise, you lazy dog!”
The door rattled again, and this time Arthur looked uneasy. The door frame was new but—
“He’ll kick it in,” he murmured.
Bedwyr was already up and grabbing his shirt. “I’ll get rid of him.”
He waited until Cai’s voice receded to the hearth area, then drew the bolt and stepped into the main room, pulling the door shut behind him. He put on a sleepy face and yawned loudly.
“Husband.” Elain approached him with pleading eyes, but her voice was calm. “Did you sleep well?”
Cai had turned and was frowning at him. “You look like you got dragged through a Saxon cunt.”
Both women turned unimpressed looks on him.
“I mean you look like goose shit,” Cai amended. “Sorry, Mistress Elain. Sorry, Gwen.”
“Watch your tongue in my house,” Bedwyr said.
“It’s the cub’s house too,” Cai said, sounding petulant, “though I haven’t seen a hair of his skinny arse.” He turned and bellowed again toward the other bedchamber. “Arthur!”
“I told you,” Gwen said, “he’s not here.”
Cai straddled one of the benches. “Where is he?”
Gwen shrugged. “Where does a man go first thing in the morning? I wouldn’t know.”
“Then he’s not doing it right,” Cai said and grinned slyly at Bedwyr.
Bedwyr sighed. “What do you want?”
Cai smirked. “Speaking of not doing it right.”
“We weren’t speaking of that.”
“But for your records, he did,” Elain said smoothly, perching on Bedwyr’s knee. She put an arm around his shoulders and kissed his nose. “Do it right, that is.”
His face grew hot, and Cai grinned at Elain. “Is that so?”
“Mmm.” She mussed Bedwyr’s hair. “Half the night. That’s why he had to sleep late.”
Cai slapped the table and laughed. Behind him, Gwen rolled her eyes.
“I don’t believe it,” Cai said.
Elain smiled. “Believe it.”
“Or don’t,” Bedwyr added. “Why are you here, again?”
Cai shrugged. “I…wanted to thank you.”
“Are you still drunk?”
“Possibly. But I had the best night’s sleep, in my very own house, thanks to you, my generous friend. And my runt of a brother, of course.” He leaned back and eyed Bedwyr’s chamber door.
Gwen gave Bedwyr a wide-eyed look. “What did we miss last night, Cai? After we left the celebration?”
He shook his head, still frowning at Bedwyr’s door. “Nothing. Everyone got tossed.” He stood up.
Elain tensed. “Even the Myrddin?” she asked, looking ready to intercept him.
“Especially the Myrddin,” Cai said, distracted. “She’s a thousand years old.” He turned to Bedwyr. “Why was your door bolted when I came in?”
“So I could sleep,” he said.
Cai turned back to the door. Elain made to stand, but Bedwyr grabbed her hips and held her in place. Drunk or not, if they tried to deflect Cai’s attention, he would get suspicious. He was a boor, not an idiot. This called for a different angle of approach.
“I’ve a mind to take you back to bed, wife.”
Everyone, including Cai, turned to stare at him.
He nuzzled Elain’s throat. She smelled like some sort of herb or flower. “What say you? Half a night leaves room for more. Shall we send Cai on his way?”
Elain scooted closer, playing along. “It is our wedding moon.”
Bedwyr kissed her ear, and she shivered for show. “Goodbye, Cai.”
Cai frowned at him, dubious, as if he might be joking.
Bedwyr stood, lifting Elain in his arms, and walked toward his chamber door.
“Ooo, you are full of surprises.” Elain fluttered her fingers at their guest. “Good to see you, Cai,” she said sweetly, the incarnation of a gigglesome newlywed about to get tupped.
When Bed reached his door, he prayed Arthur hadn’t thrown the bolt, and he shouldered it open. The door swung wide. He carried Elain through it and kicked it shut again.
Arthur stood behind the door in his shirt, pressed against the new wall. He grinned at the sight of Elain draped on Bedwyr. Setting her down, he slid the bolt home. Elain leapt onto the bed and began her performance for Cai’s benefit, much to Arthur’s delight. Bedwyr kept his ear to the door.
Cai left soon after, lured out of the house by Gwen, who claimed she needed to find Arthur after all to deliver a message. When they’d been gone for several minutes, Elain stood.
“Excellent work, husband.”
“And you, wife.”
“I believe I’ll go rescue Gwen.”
“That won’t say much of my skill,” Bedwyr said. “It’s been less than a quarter-hour.”
She gave him a crooked smile. “You had a long night, remember? You’re shooting short.”
He opened the door and gestured her out. “Try not to ruin my reputation on my first full day married.”
She winked at him and left.
He closed the door and leaned against it. “Gods’ blood.”
A
rthur strolled over to him and bent close. “Should I be jealous?”
“You should be grateful. She saved you from discovery.”
“I’ll thank her later.” He grabbed Bedwyr’s arse. “We have unfinished business.”
His cock took immediate notice. “Do we?”
He walked Arthur backward to the edge of the bed. Grinning, Arthur stripped his shirt and lay back. His splayed legs seemed to take up the entire bed.
“Where did I sleep last night?” Bedwyr wondered aloud, peeling off his own shirt and crawling across the mattress to Arthur.
“Wrapped around me, cock to cleft.” He pulled Bedwyr down to him. “It was frustrating.”
“Frustrating?” He scoffed, playfully nudging Arthur’s chin with his lips. “You complain too much.”
“I do, eh?”
He bit down lightly on the muscle in Arthur’s neck. “You do.”
“Turn over.”
He raised his head. “What?”
“On your belly, Ddraig.”
Dragon. The name scratched a swift, hot path to his prick. Arthur had never called him that before.
He liked it.
When he lay on his belly, Arthur climbed on top of him, kneeing his legs apart. The cool air in the chamber kissed his exposed sac, and excitement tickled up his spine. Then Arthur’s long, warm body settled on his. He nipped Bedwyr’s ear.
“Can you see how this might be frustrating?”
“No.”
As he’d hoped, Arthur wriggled until his prick pressed into the length of Bedwyr’s arsecrack. “And now?”
“I don’t see it yet.”
Arthur drew his hips back slowly, dragging his cock down Bedwyr’s cleft, before reversing course and pushing it back up between his cheeks.
Bedwyr gathered the bedding in his fist.
Arthur leaned close. “Do you see?”
“Not yet,” he managed, scarcely finishing the thought before Arthur repeated his deliberate withdraw and insistent thrust.
“Now?”
He groaned.
Slide, thrust.
“Bed?”
“I see it. Fuck.”
It felt as if his stones were on fire. He was torn between wanting to squeeze everything tight, or push up into Arthur, open himself to the torturous friction. His body did both on its own.
Arthur grunted his approval and pressed harder. When his cock rubbed across Bedwyr’s hole, he moaned.
“Again?”
Bedwyr spread his legs wider. Arthur slid against him, sending heat sparking across Bedwyr’s skin.
Arthur growled. “Your hair feels good.”
“My hair?”
Arthur’s fingers rubbed down his arsecrack. “Here.”
The memory of lapping his tongue up through Arthur’s hair gripped him.
Arthur put his prick there again and skimmed upward, grunting softly. “It’s like it’s kissing my cock.”
Fuck. He pressed his face into the bedding, the long, slow glide of Arthur’s prick turning his mind inside out. His own cock hung heavy, the small, scratchy fibers of the blanket nipping at it. Taking himself in hand, he squeezed hard, trying to quell the need to rut. It didn’t work. His body took over and fucked his fist. His stones felt tight with the need to come.
Behind him, Arthur moaned. “Bed.”
He gritted his teeth. “What?”
“Bed.” His hands pulled at Bedwyr’s hips in a bruising hold. He began to thrust more quickly. “Nnngh. I’m going to come.”
Bedwyr pushed his hips up. “Do it.”
“Fuck, Bed.”
“Do it, cub—fuck me—”
A crash behind them sent him scrambling. It sounded as though the wall had collapsed, and he reached without thought to pull Arthur out of harm’s way. But Arthur was fine, only staring at the doorway.
The wall hadn’t come down. His brother had kicked the door in.
Cai glared at Arthur, then turned a disgusted look on Bedwyr. “Fucked your wife half the night, eh?”
Bedwyr’s tongue seemed nailed to the roof of his mouth. “I—”
“Stow it. I knew you were hiding something. I knew it at the fucking shepherd’s hut.” He turned back to Arthur. “Lord Uthyr will find this interesting, I think.”
Arthur stood, grabbing his shirt. “Cai, wait—”
But he didn’t, leaving as abruptly as he’d appeared.
Chapter 17
“What are you doing?”
Arthur pulled his trousers on hastily and jerked at the laces. “Going after him.”
“He won’t do it,” Bed said, standing. He didn’t sound convinced.
“He will, and you know it.”
“Let him cool off.”
Probably good advice, but he couldn’t sit here and do nothing. He reached for his boots.
Bed’s hand stopped him. “I’ll talk to him. He’s angry at me, not you.”
A humorless laugh huffed out of him. “I know when something’s my fault.”
Bedwyr gestured to the chaos of the bed. “You mean to say you dragged me here against my will?”
“Ha-ha.” He tugged one boot on.
Bed knocked his hand away from it. “Look at me.” With his hand on Arthur’s neck, he made him meet his eyes. “Don’t go at him in anger. You wouldn’t do it on the battleground. Don’t do it now.”
“He kicked the door in, Bed!” Arthur waved at it, in case he’d missed that fact. “And he had no fucking right to look at you like that!”
“Like what?”
“As if you’d done something wrong.”
Bed’s dark brows pinched.
“Our grandfathers, Bed. And Tiro and Philip. They all had the bond. Still do. Cai grew up with them, longer than I did.”
“I know.”
“So why are the rules different for you, eh? Why does he get to decide what’s acceptable for you and what isn’t?”
Bed gave his cheek a light smack. “They’re different for both of us. You know that. We wouldn’t have built a new wall otherwise.”
“Fine lot of good it did.” He shoved a foot into his other boot. “I have to talk to him.”
“And say what?”
“I don’t know—‘don’t be a goat’s arsehole, Cai’?” He straightened and made for the door, but Bed caught him with an arm around his middle and turned him back. “Bed—”
“Listen to me.” Bed’s fingers curled around the back of his neck, warm and callused. “Pull a breath.”
His body did so, as if the man commanded it. He wrested control enough to push the air out in a steady stream.
“That’s the way of it,” Bed murmured.
But one exhalation wasn’t going to bring the calm Bedwyr urged, or even five or ten. Arthur’s skin felt as if it wanted to jump off him. He kissed Bed quickly on his forehead and fled the chamber before he could stop him again.
No sign of Cai on the path outside. Arthur glanced down the way, toward Lord Uthyr’s house, but didn’t see his brother.
“Looking for Cai?”
He turned to find Huw walking toward him. “Yes.”
Huw smirked. “He was asking for you earlier. Told him to mind his peace, that you’d probably exhausted yourself last night. Saw him come from your place a few minutes ago, though. He never did take my advice.”
Arthur shuffled, restless. “Where’s he gone?”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
Huw waggled his eyebrows. “Are you a man now?”
Arthur’s arms felt rigid with frustration, but it wouldn’t do to let on that anything was amiss. He cocked his chin and threw some swagger. “Wasn’t I already? Got the ink to prove it.”
Huw’s knowing chuckle grated like one coarse stone across another. “Only a woman can make a man.”
The rules are different for us.
Arthur stepped onto the path. “Where did Cai go?”
The other man’s humor soured at his unwillingness to play
. “Armory, or thereabouts.”
“Thanks.”
A few other neighbors called to him as he hurried toward the weapons house. He waved, nodding with a false smile at their jibes about his wedding night past. By the time he reached the armory, Cai was stepping out of it, armed for practice.
“Hold,” Arthur said, glancing about for witnesses.
“No.” Cai pushed past him. Arthur grabbed his sleeve, but Cai pulled free. “I’m for the yard.”
As his brother strode away, Arthur ducked into the armory and pulled a sword and shield from a workbench. Neither fit him—the shield too small, the sword too short—but he didn’t have time to find replacements. He made his way to the yard.
Most people were still sleeping off their revels of the night before, so he found Cai alone. That was something to be grateful for, at least. He approached him, armor slack. “Cai—”
His brother turned on him, blade raised, and before Arthur could react, was swiping it hard at his shield.
Arthur raised it on instinct and absorbed the blow. Anger flashed hot through his mind, and he swung at Cai. It was a poor strike badly made, and Cai fended it off easily.
“Pathetic.”
Arthur circled him. “We need to talk.”
“Nothing to say.”
“There is—”
Cai swung again, a wicked uppercut that on the battleground would have taken out a Saxon’s stones.
Arthur shouted and beat it aside with his shield. “Stop, you arse!”
“You’d know one on sight, wouldn’t you?” He tried for Arthur’s knees.
He blocked the blow and aimed his own, nothing so vicious as Cai’s, only something to lift his brother’s sword to a more rational height. It worked, and they sparred for several minutes. Neither spoke, and Arthur fell into a rhythm of strikes and blocks he hoped would wear Cai down until he would listen to reason.
After a while, though, Cai’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “Stop holding back.”
“No,” he said. “This is the yard.”
“Give it your best, damn you, or leave.”
Pull a breath. Arthur did, trying to calm his jangled nerves.
Cai had no such intention and charged him.