by Lisa Henry
“I don’t remember,” Ciaran whispered. “Only afterwards … when he was …” He shuddered as he saw it again. Blood and bone and brain. “It was horrible. Monstrous.”
“No.” Darragh worked the bandage between the fingers of Ciaran’s left hand, so carefully removing every last trace of blood. “He was monstrous. Not you, not ever.”
Ciaran widened his eyes in surprise as Darragh lifted his left hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed Ciaran’s fingers gently. Not repulsed by what he’d used them for, not at all.
“Close your eyes now,” Darragh said.
The bandage was rough against his face, and Ciaran clamped his mouth shut tightly. Didn’t want to taste the blood. Didn’t need to. He could imagine it. Could almost feel it coating the inside of his mouth, as if after he’d killed Boru, he’d fed on him too. Murderer. Monster.
“There he is, now,” Darragh murmured to him in a soft, crooning voice, like he was leading a skittish horse. “There he is, now.”
But who was he? Ciaran wasn’t sure he knew. Wasn’t sure he’d ever known, not really. Who did Darragh see underneath the blood? Ciaran opened his mouth to ask and was suddenly afraid of the answer. He said, instead, “The water’s getting cold.”
“I know.” Darragh dabbed at his forehead. “You’re nearly clean now anyway, lad. Let’s get you up and dried and to bed.”
Ciaran nodded and let Darragh draw him to his feet. Darragh led him into the kitchen, where Rabbit was curled up in the sleeping bag by the stove. He had his fallen duck feather clutched in one sleeping hand.
“No towels,” Darragh whispered. He wiped Ciaran down with one of the old quilts he’d found, and then wrapped another one around him. It smelled faintly of mothballs. “You settle down here, and I’ll stand watch.”
Ciaran shook his head. “I want to sleep in the living room. With you.”
“How about I do you one better?” Darragh asked. “Bedroom’s mostly intact. Still a mattress, even. I could build us a fire in there.”
“Really?” Ciaran felt himself smile. A warm bath, a mattress, and a fire. Almost heaven. And Darragh, too. “God, yes, please!”
“Stay here and keep warm ’til I’ve got the fire going,” Darragh told him.
Da Darragh. Ciaran snorted but obeyed. Stood watch over Rabbit dozing while Darragh bustled about in the other room.
“All right!” he called at last. “Come on then.”
Ciaran gave Rabbit one last look and smile, then headed in the direction of Darragh’s voice. A crooked little doorway led into the bedroom, already dry and smoky from Darragh’s fire.
Not just a mattress. A bed. A bed piled with old quilts, and in the centre of it all, Darragh, lounging on his back with his boots off looking like a king. No, not like a king of England or France, spoiled and despotic like Boru had been.
A proper old chieftain, a real old Irish rí, benevolent and warm and competent and kind. The sort of leader who toiled beside his people, instead of wielding a whip at their backs.
Ciaran dropped the damp quilt from his shoulders and threw himself naked into Darragh’s open arms with a laugh. Darragh laughed, as well, and kissed him on the forehead.
“Not there,” Ciaran said, lips curling mischievously. “Try somewhere else.”
Darragh’s smile faded. He rolled them over so they lay on their sides facing one another. He brushed Ciaran’s hair back from his forehead. “Ciaran …”
“What?” Unease bit at Ciaran’s guts.
Darragh frowned worriedly. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
“Ask, then.”
Darragh’s frown deepened. “It was something Boru said, so maybe it was a lie. Probably it was.”
Ciaran fumbled for one of the quilts, feeling the sudden need to cover himself. “What?”
“You said you’d had boyfriends,” Darragh said. “Lovers.”
“So?”
“So Boru said he was the first. That was a lie, wasn’t it?”
Ciaran sighed heavily. He knew if he said he didn’t want to answer, Darragh would respect that. He wouldn’t press. And yet, maybe even if Darragh wasn’t owed an answer, Ciaran could still give him one, as an offering and a kindness. “Yes and no,” he replied, carefully. “He wasn’t my first lover—wasn’t a lover at all—but he wasn’t the first man I was … with. But he was the first one to … take me.”
Darragh looked perplexed. “So you were a virgin? Like me?”
Ciaran bit his lip. “No. Well … What Boru said was his was the first cock I’d ever taken. And that was true. But I’d fucked men before. You see? I’d done the fucking. Like you fucked me.”
Darragh’s eyes widened. “Oh!”
Ciaran gave him a moment, and then smiled. “So, in that sense, you’re still very much a virgin, aren’t you?” He poked Darragh in the ribs teasingly.
Darragh didn’t smile. He only nodded, and Ciaran was sure he could see the gears ticking over in his head. He took Ciaran’s hand and twined their fingers together. “Is that what you preferred, before Boru got to you? Being the one doing the fucking?”
Ciaran sighed. “Yes.”
“And then … and then you had me fuck you, just like he did?” Darragh looked almost horrified.
“I thought it was what you’d like best. I suppose I thought … I thought maybe that was what I was good for, after all.” Ciaran shook his head. “It’s hard to explain. I didn’t hate it with you, Darragh, you must know that. I loved it. I’d do it again. And I didn’t do it to trick you or manipulate you, not after the one time. I didn’t specifically draw a line between you and … the others. But I do think maybe I chose to let you top because maybe—maybe because I wanted you to be happy, and I thought that was the only way for someone like me to do it after all that time. After being used that way so much.”
“I never wanted to use you. Not like those other men, not like Boru, never!” Darragh sat up in the bed, hands balled into fists. He was practically trembling. “I wanted to share with you!”
“I know that. Please, don’t be angry.” Ciaran reached for his hand, but Darragh pulled away. “I wanted you that way, I promise. And it’s what you wanted, too.”
“But I still used you. I didn’t even ask what you wanted. I didn’t even think, I just went along with what I’d seen other men do to you. I never even asked you.” Darragh hid his face in his hands. His voice broke. “I used you. Just like them.”
“No. It’s not your fault. We both wanted it that way at that time, so there should be no fault attached to it at all! Do you hear me, you big lout? You didn’t use me. I loved having your cock in me. I love you.”
Darragh looked up, finally. His eyes were wide. “I love you, too, Ciaran.” He swallowed. “But will you let me make it up to you?”
Ciaran shook his head. “You don’t have to make anything up to me.”
Because if he had learned anything from Darragh, it was how very, very simple love was. No debts to pay. No egos to court. No tempers to placate. No comparisons—no betters, no worsts, no firsts or lasts or onlys. No roles—victim or saviour—to play. Love was freely—and honestly—given.
“But what if I want to know what it’s like? Would you show me then?”
“Darragh, are you—” Ciaran blushed up to the roots of his hair. “Are you asking me to fuck you? After everything?”
Darragh’s eyelashes lowered. “Not … not if you’re too tired. And only if you wanted. But yes, after everything. Especially after everything.”
Ciaran couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped him. “Well,” he managed at last, “when’s the next time we’ll have a comfy bed, right?”
Darragh flushed bright red and smiled hesitantly. “Right.”
Especially after everything. Darragh knew that Ciaran understood that. The need to feel normal again, loved and desired. The need to share of himself. The need to just live. To remember what living felt like after coming back from the edge of death. And ver
y suddenly, the need to give Ciaran something that Darragh had never given anyone before. To experience that with Ciaran. Given freely. No obligation, no debt, but sharing.
Ciaran held his hand tightly. “The first time … it might hurt a little. That’s what I’ve heard. That even if you’re careful, it might hurt.”
Darragh nodded. He’d figured that. He wasn’t afraid of that. But he’d also seen that it could be good. Ciaran had showed him that it could. He pictured Ciaran’s beautiful face, contorted by pleasure, could hear Ciaran’s sweet moans echoing in his ears. It had been good for both of them, yes. Despite everything going against them, pain and obligation and bad memories, it had been good. It would be good this time, too. Better, even, because it was the start of something new.
“So how—” He blushed again. Ciaran’s hands touched his sides, stilling him with the touch. His nimble fingers caught on the hem of Darragh’s shirt and pulled it up over his head. Darragh propped himself up on his elbows as Ciaran straddled his hips, as Ciaran’s soft lips caressed his chest, leaving little hot wet patches on his skin that made his nipples tighten.
“No need to rush,” Ciaran said. “Nobody coming after us this time.” He bent down, catching Darragh’s left nipple in his mouth and giving it a slow, teasing draw.
Darragh fought the urge to close his eyes, to sink back down onto the bed, into sensation. Ciaran was so beautiful like this. Playful, affectionate, yet so full of heat. To close his eyes, to risk not seeing every expression on his face … unthinkable. And it was like Ciaran knew, too, what effect he had, because as he flicked out his tongue, circling Darragh’s nipple with it, he kept his teasing eyes on Darragh’s face the entire time, a mischievous little smile playing at his lips.
Darragh groaned, lifting his hips. “Ciaran …”
“Love when you say that,” Ciaran murmured. He pulled off Darragh’s chest, sweeping his thumbs over both of Darragh’s nipples now.
“Christ!” Darragh twisted. He’d never thought that being touched there would draw such a response from him. His cock was aching hard and Ciaran hadn’t even paid it any attention yet, or at least nothing beyond the occasional inadvertent nudge with his soft arse as he shifted. “Ciaran,” he added for good measure.
Ciaran chuckled. “You like that?” His eyes shone in the firelight. His knowing smile needed no answer. “I like it, too. Like being in charge of you.”
“I like you … showing me,” Darragh managed as Ciaran’s fingers reached for his fly. Darragh arched up as Ciaran tugged his trousers open.
“I like you letting me,” Ciaran said. He stroked Darragh’s abdomen, keeping his touch light—too light—and teasing. “I like how you look after me too. You made a bed, and built a fire, and drew a bath. So big and strong, and all for me.”
“Yes,” Darragh agreed breathlessly. “All for you.”
Ciaran shifted off him briefly and drew his trousers down. He slid his hands along Darragh’s legs as he did so, each touch a caress. He rubbed his thumb against an old scar on Darragh’s shin, paused to kiss it gently, then straddled his hips again.
“Aren’t you going to …?”
“More kissing first,” Ciaran said, a smile belying his stern tone.
Oh yes. Kissing was something good. Not exactly familiar territory, or not as familiar as Darragh would have liked, but it calmed his nerves. And Ciaran had said it was something that was theirs alone. It was close and tender, but underneath all of that, it built heat. Ciaran’s kisses, and the way he rocked gently against Darragh, made him want more. Much more. “Please, Ciaran … please.”
Ciaran’s mouth followed the line of his jaw. “Where’s the first aid kit?”
What a strange question. It took a moment for Darragh’s mind to catch up to why Ciaran had asked it. “In the, um, in the kitchen.”
Ciaran tugged at Darragh’s earlobe with his teeth. “Wait here. Don’t even move an inch.”
Darragh propped himself back up onto his elbows and watched as Ciaran slid off the bed. Watched as he headed for the door, his naked arse gleaming in the firelight. That beautiful pale skin shining. Darragh’s heart stuttered as Ciaran vanished from view, as though it’d broken a little even at this momentary separation.
Ciaran was back in seconds, smiling. “He’s asleep. Snoring like a little piglet.”
For a moment Darragh had forgotten there was anyone else in the house. Anyone else in the world. He patted the bed beside him. Sure, he was glad to hear Rabbit was sleeping safely, but he had more important things on his mind now. Things he very desperately wanted to get back to, even if now there was a little twist of nervousness making its way into the pit of his stomach.
Ciaran clutched the tube of slick in one hand.
He must have caught Darragh staring, because he smiled. “It’s all right,” he said, tossing the lube onto the bed and climbing in after it. For now, he left it where it was as he crawled up Darragh’s legs, round arse waggling temptingly. He lowered the front half of his body so that his face was level with Darragh’s cock. Wrapped his small hand around it tight and tugged upwards.
“Ciaran!” Darragh hissed, his hips jerking. What if he came too soon? He didn’t want to ruin this. He wanted it to be perfect for Ciaran, and for himself.
“Oh yes.” Ciaran grinned devilishly and leaned forwards, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tip of Darragh’s cock. His soft lips moulded around the crown of it as his hand moved along the shaft. This time Darragh couldn’t help but close his eyes. His hands clutched the sheets, legs stretching and twisting. How could he want to escape this pleasure so badly and want to give himself over to it at the same time? It was almost too good. Too much.
And then Ciaran’s other hand slipped behind his balls, middle finger stroking dry across his hole. The touch was electric. Darragh sucked in a shallow, surprised breath, and tried desperately not to come in Ciaran’s mouth. Not yet, not yet.
And simultaneously, Yes, yes, now.
Ciaran leaned back, releasing Darragh’s cock from between his lips. Darragh groaned at the loss of him, and Ciaran smiled. He reached for the tube and opened it, his gaze holding Darragh’s. And then that finger was back at Darragh’s hole, wet and slippery, and more insistent than before. Darragh shivered as the tip breached him. So gentle. Ciaran was being so gentle.
“All mine,” Ciaran murmured, working his finger inside.
It felt … strange. Darragh wasn’t sure he could even describe it apart from that. There was no pain, just an odd sensation of fullness. He couldn’t help staring at Ciaran’s cock, red and engorged, and wondering how it would even fit. If one of Ciaran’s slender fingers filled him up, then surely …
“Relax for me,” Ciaran said. “We’re taking it slow.”
Yes, slow. Darragh closed his eyes and let himself simply feel. He trusted Ciaran to know what he was doing. Trusted him to know what Darragh’s body could take. One finger inside him became two—more slick, more fullness—and with every gentle push into Darragh’s body, Ciaran reassured him with a touch somewhere else as well: his hip, his thigh, his abdomen, skirting close to his cock each time but never touching it. Building heat, just like with his kisses.
Then Ciaran shifted, his fingers pressing on a place inside Darragh that made his eyes flash open, made his body shiver with a sudden burst of pleasure, made his balls draw up, his cock jerk and his stomach clench.
“There now,” Ciaran murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Darragh panted for breath. “Fuck, Ciaran!”
“Nice?” Ciaran smiled and hit the spot again.
“More than fecking nice, I’d say!” Even his feet were flexing in reaction to the overpowering pleasure of it.
“You made me feel this, too.” Ciaran withdrew his fingers and leaned down to press a kiss to Darragh’s chest. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Darragh echoed. He shifted his legs up, bending his knees and planting the soles of his feet against the mattress. Ciaran’s hands guided h
im, gentled him, and then Ciaran lowered himself into the cradle of Darragh’s thighs. Darragh’s heart thumped wildly, and he tried not to tense up as he felt the hot, slippery head of Ciaran’s cock bump against his balls. Ciaran shifted his position slightly, and then the head of his cock was pressing against Darragh’s hole.
“Are you sure?” Ciaran whispered.
Darragh nodded. “I want you.”
Sudden pressure as Ciaran pushed against him. Darragh felt himself yield to it and—oh! He flinched at the sting as Ciaran’s cock entered him. It hurt. Not unbearably, but Darragh had to force himself not to push Ciaran away. To ride this out and trust that Ciaran would make it good. His breath shuddered out of him.
“I know,” Ciaran said soothingly. “Bear down.”
Darragh obeyed and was both surprised and gratified when the pain receded. The pressure remained, strange and uncomfortable, and then, suddenly, Ciaran’s cock hit the same place his fingers had minutes before, and pleasure sparked in every nerve. Darragh cried out, fingers raking the quilts, as Ciaran rocked gently into him. When Ciaran was fully seated inside him, he leaned down over Darragh for more sweet kisses, one hand supporting his weight and the other curling around Darragh’s cock.
“You’re so tight, Darragh,” Ciaran murmured, his breath hot against Darragh’s lips. “I won’t last long.”
Darragh kissed him.
“Wanted—wanted to go slow,” Ciaran panted. “Wanted to take the whole night, but I can’t.”
“Then don’t,” Darragh said, shivering as Ciaran withdrew slightly and pushed in again. Darragh lifted his hips to meet the slow thrust. “There’ll be plenty of nights. So … just fuck me, Ciaran.”
“Nothing I want more.” And with that, Ciaran fell forwards onto Darragh’s waiting chest, arms around his shoulders and face pressed to his throat and hips snapping hard as he pierced Darragh over and over again with his cock. Darragh gasped with every thrust, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter as Ciaran fucked him. Ciaran’s cock hit that place inside him every time. Darragh’s cock, trapped between their bodies, ached and throbbed.