“More wine?” Loriot asked.
“No.” He walked forward and set his glass down on the table.
Loriot’s grin was more than a little wicked. “Good.”
They stood staring at each other for one breath, two. And then they lunged. They came together in a kiss every bit as explosive as their first, and Savarin had his answer. The kiss wasn’t gentle, wasn’t sweet, but Savarin didn’t want gentle or sweet. Tonight he craved the power of this. As the storm raged outside, he and Loriot came together with what felt like the same force.
They tore at each other’s clothes and their own. Savarin wanted them both naked and fast, but he didn’t want to break the almost bruising kisses they shared for long enough to undress. Something ripped, and Loriot stumbled as he tried to kick off his shoes and urge Savarin toward the bed with his body at the same time. He took Loriot’s weight and spun them, pushing Loriot down onto the bed in one motion. When Loriot tried to sit up, Savarin put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him back down. Before Loriot could move again, Savarin stripped him of his breeches, the only clothing Loriot still wore, and kicked off his own. Then he followed Loriot down onto the bed and into another kiss.
He ate at Loriot’s lips, delving into his mouth with his tongue and exploring, satisfaction shimmering through him at every indication of Loriot’s pleasure. He broke away with a nip to Loriot’s bottom lip and laid nibbling kisses along Loriot’s jaw, his neck. Loriot shuddered beneath him, and then before Savarin knew what was happening, flipped them over, putting Savarin beneath him. “My turn,” Loriot growled.
The growl sent heat rushing through Savarin. He clutched Loriot, digging fingers into hard muscle, as Loriot kissed him once more with bruising intensity. Loriot tore his mouth from Savarin’s and ignored Savarin’s attempts to tug him back while he began an exploration of Savarin’s neck and chest with lips and tongue and teeth, planting sucking kisses and nips and slightly harder bites seemingly at random before fastening his lips over one nipple and sucking hard.
He groaned as pleasure shot through him and shoved his hand into Loriot’s hair, holding on to the surprisingly soft locks. Loriot’s only response was to switch to the other nipple and continue his attempt to drive Savarin out of his mind. But he wouldn’t be taken there alone. He touched every bit of Loriot he could reach. He ran his hands over the expanse of Loriot’s back, exploring smooth skin over muscles sculpted by long hours of training, and down to firm buttocks. He squeezed and kneaded, loved how Loriot writhed against him. He let out a low chuckle that turned into a moan when Loriot reached between them and gripped him, stroking firmly over his hardness while he returned to nibbling at Savarin’s collarbone.
“Loriot.”
It was Loriot’s turn to chuckle, a wicked sound that shivered over Savarin’s skin like a touch. Loriot left a trail of kisses up to Savarin’s ear and sank his teeth into the lobe, the flash of almost-pain causing a burst of pleasure. “I want to be inside you,” Loriot whispered in a voice gone deep and growly with passion.
“What if I want to be in you?” he asked, then gasped and arched when Loriot squeezed him.
“Not tonight. Tonight you need the distraction. You need to stop thinking.”
Savarin was pretty sure Loriot had already accomplished that. He was struggling to pull two coherent thoughts together already. But at the moment, he didn’t know that he cared one way or another. “Loriot—”
But he got no further as Loriot swooped down for another breath-stealing kiss. Who knew the man could kiss like this? Thunder crashed outside, but Savarin just pushed into the kiss. The storm outside didn’t matter, only the one in this room, the one that had been building all night—perhaps longer than that.
He pulled away from the kiss, leaving Loriot gasping. He put a hand up, curving it around Loriot’s jaw to keep him from following but got lost for a second in the way the hair of Loriot’s beard felt on his palm, prickly but soft at the same time. His attention returned when Loriot moved, trying to get back down to Savarin. “Wait. Yes. Tonight, yes.” Savarin reached up and nipped at Loriot’s bottom lip, pulling back out of reach before Loriot could draw him into another kiss. He might not have a soldier’s strength the way Loriot did, but he wasn’t weak. “Tonight, but tomorrow….”
Loriot grinned and nodded. This time Savarin let him in for another kiss, but he kept enough of his mind focused to use his Talent. He held out one hand and summoned a small bottle of oil from his bag, feeling satisfaction but no surprise when the bottle settled into his palm. He closed his fingers around it and then nudged Loriot. “Here,” he whispered into the kiss.
Loriot took the bottle from him and stared at it, brow furrowed. “Where did this—never mind. Tell me later.”
Savarin heartily approved of that plan. He approved even more when Loriot put the oil to good use, first with slick fingers that he used to tease and tantalize for long moments until Savarin snapped at him to get on with it. Loriot chuckled but didn’t continue his torture. He pushed inside Savarin, inching in ever so slowly, stretching and filling him. His first few thrusts were slow and far too gentle. And it was Savarin’s turn to growl and surge up, wrapping his legs around Loriot and pulling him in. “More. Harder. Now.”
Loriot bared his teeth in something that might have been a smile, swooped down for another kiss, and did what Savarin demanded. They moved together, a storm raging both outside and in. Building and building as they moved together until pleasure finally crashed over both of them.
After, they lay where they fell, Loriot still mostly on top of Savarin. He could feel Loriot’s heart racing, his chest heaving, just as Savarin’s was. Outside, the storm continued, rain pounding against the shutters, wind howling, but inside everything was suddenly peaceful, quiet. Sweat began to cool on Savarin’s skin, and he shivered.
Loriot stirred. “All right?”
“More than.” He felt boneless and relaxed in a way he hadn’t in a long while. He should probably thank Loriot for that at some point, when he got over being surprised that he’d ended up in this place with Loriot. “You?”
“Same. Am I crushing you?”
“You have a few more minutes before that becomes an issue.”
Loriot huffed a laugh. “You just let me know.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” He patted Loriot’s back and left his hand there.
After a moment, Loriot asked, “Is this going to be strange?”
He considered a moment. “I don’t see why it should. We’re adults. We know how to keep an affair separate from our responsibilities. I don’t see why we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves if we want to.”
“Good. Because I would like to enjoy myself with you again.” Loriot’s voice was muffled since he didn’t bother moving from where his face was buried in the pillow beside Savarin’s neck, but Savarin managed to understand him.
“That is good. But now we need another bath.”
Loriot pushed himself up on his elbows to hover over him. “I am not calling that maid up here to fill up a tub again. You’ll have to content yourself with the water in the basin for the night.”
He put on an overly dramatic sigh. “If I must.”
“Besides, there’s no sense getting clean,” Loriot said, dropping a quick, hard kiss on Savarin’s lips. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.”
Chapter 14
WHEN LORIOT woke, he thought it was still night, and it took him a moment to get his bearings. The bedchamber was dark, lit only by the embers of the dying fire. His sleep-fogged mind was slow to identify the sound of rain pounding at the shutters. Then he remembered—the storm, the inn. Savarin.
He became aware of a weight across his chest, another over his legs, and turned his head. In the dim of the room, he could just see Savarin sleeping sprawled out on his stomach beside him in the rumpled bed, an arm thrown over Loriot’s chest, a leg over Loriot’s. Half of Savarin’s face was
buried in the pillow, his fine hair mussed. The covers tangled around them, those that hadn’t slipped to the floor anyway. They’d spent most of the night awake and doing their best to consume each other, something entirely unexpected but quite pleasurable all the same.
He’d been shocked by the passionate kiss but ultimately decided, after much thought while sitting in his bath and watching Savarin absorbed in his work, that he didn’t want to ignore the visceral attraction they seemed to have for each other. Why not indulge it? Of course he’d also assumed it would burn itself out after they fell into bed.
They’d fallen into bed, but it hadn’t burned itself out. Faint surprise lingered, but he’d also accepted by the time he’d fallen asleep that it wouldn’t be only one night between them. So fine. As they’d said last night, they were perfectly capable of separating an affair from their responsibilities on this trip. They’d enjoy themselves together as long as they wanted and then stop when they weren’t enjoying themselves anymore. It would never last past a return to their real lives in Jumelle anyway.
With that reaffirmed, he relaxed into the bed and let out a sigh of contentment. His body felt pleasantly used from their night together. The bed was comfortable, and Savarin’s arm was a welcome weight on him. He wouldn’t mind another blanket, but the desire wasn’t worth extricating himself from the warmth of Savarin and their shared bed. The rain and wind outside still seemed violent, but they were insulated in the bedchamber, making it seem as if they were in their own little world.
If he listened carefully, he could hear faint noises from the rest of the inn, people walking past their door, talking. Perhaps it was morning. But he made no move to get up. They couldn’t leave the inn until the storm ended; there would be no early start to traveling for them this morning. And no Alain waking him early, wanting attention from his father. He missed Alain, missed their mornings together. But there was something nice about having a bit of a break and being able to stay in bed with someone beside him. He wasn’t sure when it had last happened, between Alain’s early wake up time and his own duties in the royal guard. He should enjoy it, even if the storm was delaying their journey. It would do that whether he was annoyed or not, so he might as well take the turn of events with equanimity.
So he turned his face into the pillow and went back to sleep.
When he woke the second time, he still couldn’t tell what time it was. No light peeked through the shutters, and from the noise, the rain was still falling. It had been joined again by thunder and lightning, which might have been what woke him. But the inn seemed more awake around him, a low hum of activity seeping into the bedchamber. Which was also brighter than it had been. He blinked and pushed himself up on one arm. The fire was crackling again. Savarin slouched in a chair near the hearth, a single lit candle by which he was reading at his elbow. He wore only a pair of loose black drawstring pants, and his hair was mussed from sleep.
“Good morning.”
Savarin looked up from his book. “Good morning. Though I think it’s closer to afternoon.”
“Is it?” He hadn’t slept so long in… he wasn’t sure how long.
Savarin chuckled. “You look surprised.”
“I am. Have you been awake long?”
Savarin shook his head but was interrupted by a knock at the door before he could speak. “Late as it is, I asked them to send up breakfast.” He went to the door and reached out into the corridor. He stepped back into the room with a laden tray that only just fit on their small table.
“That’s a lot of food.”
“I think our maid is afraid we’re going to starve.” Savarin set about pouring them each a glass of juice. “Come eat?”
“Or you could come back to bed.” Heat had started simmering again as he watched Savarin move slowly around the room in only the thin, low-slung pants. They clung to his long legs and round backside. And when he tore his attention from Savarin’s lower half, it was only to stare at the expanse of pale skin exposed by his lack of shirt.
Savarin’s head snapped up, the movement sharp and no longer lazy. After a moment, he smiled. “Hmm. I’m hungry. Come eat, and then we’ll go back to bed.”
He considered his options for a moment. Getting Savarin back into bed felt like his first priority, but his stomach chose that moment to growl. As Savarin chuckled, Loriot slid from the bed and prowled across the room to take the other chair.
Savarin raised a single eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to dress?”
“No.”
“You’re going to eat naked?”
“I thought I would.” He sipped the tart juice and bit back a smile. “What’s wrong? Am I distracting you?”
“Perhaps.”
“Good. That should get you back into bed sooner.” He’d say they’d stay in one of the chairs—the idea had appeal—but he wasn’t certain they could fit in one together.
“I do have to spend some time with my research today,” Savarin said almost sternly as he spread apricot preserves on bread. “I’m out here for a purpose.”
“I’m aware.” He helped himself to bread as well, adding soft cheese to it, and then helping himself to fruit and slices of ham. “But how much can you do? You didn’t bring many books with you.”
“I wish I could have brought more. Really I need my library, and the university’s. But I’ll make do with what I have.”
“We could go back to Jumelle.” He ventured the suggestion assuming he knew the answer, and he was proven right.
“Not yet.”
His disappointment wasn’t as strong as he expected it to be, as it should have been. He wanted to go back to Jumelle and his son and his duties at the palace. But one night with Savarin hadn’t quite been enough either; he’d be disappointed to miss exploring a bit more with him. “You haven’t found as much on this journey as you hoped.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean I won’t find more,” Savarin said and continued his meal calmly.
“Or you could be out here for months trying.”
Savarin leveled a quick, cold glare at him. “This is my best opportunity to gather information at this point. Right now that outweighs the benefits I could get out of access to a library. When that changes, we’ll go back.”
He nodded, accepting Savarin’s statement for the moment at least. He wasn’t going to let them waste time out here if it wasn’t helping Savarin in his investigation, certainly not if the only reason they were was Savarin’s healthy measure of stubbornness and arrogance. He wasn’t positive how he would know when that time came, but he’d manage.
Savarin didn’t spend much time that day with the books he had managed to bring along. Loriot took great delight in distracting him and great amusement in Savarin’s brief annoyance each time he did. And great satisfaction when amusement melted away into something else.
Loriot allowed Savarin a little more time with his books the next day. They’d both hoped to be back on the road by then and thought they might be when the storm died down in the previous evening. But after only a few hours, the wind had kicked up again, and soon after the rain poured down in a deafening rush. He and Savarin had gone to bed that night frustrated at the additional delay. They spent most of the second morning in bed, indulging themselves. In the afternoon, Loriot left Savarin with his books and took himself out of the room to explore the inn.
As soon as he was out in the corridor, he was glad for the inn’s thick walls and doors that muffled the sounds of the crowded building. There were people all over, likely tired of being in their bedchambers, and perhaps the inn itself, after more than a day. Children played in the corridors; the common room was full, people sitting around the tables talking or playing cards or other games. Someone was softly playing a lute in the corner. He considered asking to join a game, but he felt too restless. After wandering for a while longer and tossing a ball with a small boy before his older siblings found the child, he stumbled upon a small library. People filled that room too, but it was far quieter wit
h most people reading or writing, and conversations occurring in whispers. He browsed along the shelves, finding a decent selection of books in a variety of subjects and conditions, some probably bought for the inn, some possibly abandoned by prior guests. Finding a book of legends that looked interesting, he took it to a chair in the corner away from most people in the room and made himself comfortable.
A little reading to pass the time, and then he would go bother Savarin again. It was far too enjoyable an activity not to continue with it.
SAVARIN WAS happy to get back on the road the next morning. The two-day delay made impatience rise within him, more so as they prepared to leave in the morning than at any time during the two days. Perhaps it had been the isolating and insulating effects of the storm, and the knowledge that they physically couldn’t go anywhere, or perhaps it had been the distraction that Loriot presented.
Now that they were out of the bedchamber they shared, out of the bed they’d spent the majority of two days in, he marveled that it had actually happened at all. With the sun shining above them, the whole two days seemed like an odd dream. A good one, a pleasurable one. But strange and unexpected nonetheless.
Would they leave what happened back at that inn? It might be better if they did. Savarin had a job to do, and he didn’t need a lingering distraction, however enjoyable. He’d ended his last affair for similar reasons, though the affair had lasted a little longer than a couple of days. But his sorcery would always be first, and even more so as he immersed himself in perhaps the most important work of his life.
Noise ahead of them on the road, which had been quiet and mostly deserted so far that morning, broke him from his thoughts. Not far ahead, a group of travelers seemed to be trying to drag a large tree from the road with much yelling and circling about. They’d seen other trees and branches brought down by the violent storms but none that had blocked the road. A rider might have been able to get around this tree by going off the road and into the trees at either side, but it wouldn’t be easy with the ground muddy and puddled with water. And the wagon that sat in the middle of the road would never make it.
The Sorcerer’s Guardian Page 12