Change of Plans

by Addison Albright

  Indeed. Marcelo longed for another, more thorough look at the magnificent body he’d only glimpsed this morning. It was surely a wonder that Efren had looked at him likewise appreciatively this morning, they were so dissimilar. Attractions apparently differed as much as appearances did.

  They lost no time, despite the teasing glances, cocky eyebrows, and tittering laughs, while removing their garments. Efren pulled Marcelo into his arms for a skin-on-hairy-skin embrace, sliding their arousals along each other, and taking Marcelo’s breath away.

  Marcelo sighed as they settled into the heated, sudsy water. Efren behind, and Marcelo leaning against him. He lay his arms atop Efren’s more muscular arms.

  Efren behaved himself remarkably—perhaps teasingly?—well. His hands meandered back and forth across Marcelo’s abdomen without drifting lower.

  Yet…Marcelo told himself.

  He dropped his head back to lean against Efren’s chest and shoulder. This would be all about the process getting there rather than simply the final act itself. An act which he had discovered and enjoyed on his own in the privacy of his bedchamber back in Sheburat, but had never dreamed he would share with another.

  Efren seemed to be a man of experience in maximizing the pleasure of this journey, so Marcelo would not disrupt the ride. Although—he gasped and pushed gently backward when Efren landed a trail of kisses to his shoulder and pressed his arousal against Marcelo’s backside—he would absolutely follow his husband’s adept lead.

  Marcelo closed his eyes, and Efren’s voice rumbled soothingly as he began a soft monologue, describing the beauties of Zioneven that they would see together once their tour was rescheduled. The words were accompanied by trailing fingers, which left Marcelo’s skin tingling wherever they roamed.

  His belly, his chest, teasing circles around his nipples as Efren elaborated about colorful, charming, fragrant flower-filled meadows, lush rolling hills of green, and rich farmlands covering Zioneven’s central and southern regions. They would have passed through some of this scenery on that now-forgotten journey here.

  Efren’s tantalizing fingers and gradually increasing presses and tweaks now teased Marcelo from his nipples to his bollocks as Efren fascinated him with verbal imagery of the thick green forests of towering trees and varied wildlife in Zioneven’s northwest sector.

  Marcelo writhed against Efren’s strong chest as his respiration increased. He matched Efren’s grind as his husband’s hands more and more frequently gripped Marcelo’s hips to encourage the press.

  The majestic mountains in the northeast, the unfamiliar sight of which had terrified Marcelo so this morning, were lovingly described last, the perfect metaphor for his rising passion as he and Efren strove together toward release.

  The mesmerizing gravely notes of Efren’s voice combined beautifully with the amazingly gentle strength in the arms holding him, the chest cradling him, and the legs encircling him.

  Marcelo panted unreservedly with his head thrown back, no longer making any effort to keep his reactions silent. Water sloshed as Efren’s control turned more and more erratic, but he kept one hand coaxing Marcelo’s erection, and the other directing the backward grind of Marcelo’s hips.

  “Oh, my darling.” Efren’s voice was husky, but it was the rumble in his chest that intoxicated and invigorated Marcelo far better then the wine they’d neglected to open would have done.

  Marcelo whimpered. “Dearest.”

  “Now, my darling,” Efren panted and gave Marcelo’s erection one last slippery squeeze. “Now.”

  Marcelo arched and gasped for breath as he found that glorious release they’d been striving toward. Efren ground furiously against him, finally stiffening with a soft groan, and holding Marcelo tightly to him as they undulated together.

  With a final shudder, they settled their limp, spent bodies with Efren once again leaning against the back support of the tub and Marcelo bonelessly draped across his chest. What had been a roaring fire had settled into a calmer blaze, still providing warmth, but soon their water would cool.

  Years ago, when Marcelo had discovered the joys of pleasuring himself, he’d never imagined the possibility that the touch of another could surpass that seemingly infinite pleasure. Efren’s touch eclipsed it.

  His eyelids drooped, and his head lolled toward the center of the room. The warm blankets and soft pillows upon the bed beckoned. But the memory of their second first time together would live forever.

  The heady romance, Efren’s gentle, considerate slowly progressing touch, and even the mild diversion of Efren’s spellbinding soliloquy.

  “You know.” Marcelo turned his head to kiss the glistening skin over Efren’s heart. “This is the memory I will have in my mind, forevermore, whenever I gaze out our window at those magnificent mountains you just described.”

  Perhaps that had been his intent. Marcelo couldn’t quite decide if Efren’s grin was more cocky or smug.

  Chapter 15: A New Leaf

  Marcelo, the next day

  “Wake up, my lovely.”

  The words were accompanied by a gentle shake to Marcelo’s shoulder and a light kiss to his forehead.

  It took only a moment to remember where he was, but Marcelo kept his eyes closed as Efren ran a finger along his jaw, then tipped it up for a proper, although still light, kiss.

  Unlike the cold fear that had ripped through him yesterday morning, this time, Marcelo’s blood warmed appreciatively.

  “Come, my lovely. Let’s make the most of this glorious morning, hmm?” Efren pressed his arousal against Marcelo’s to augment his words.

  With a giggle, Marcelo finally opened his eyes. “I think you might be nuttier than Mr. Tolly’s Nutter Buzzers.”

  Efren snickered. “I’m afraid I can’t gauge the accuracy of that statement for myself, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  Marcelo melted into a boneless puddle as Efren pulled Marcelo astride him, fondled his backside, and thoroughly kissed him.

  “Good morning, my darling,” Efren murmured into Marcelo’s neck.

  Marcelo squirmed and giggled again. “Tickles.” But it was a delicious tickle from the light rasp of Efren’s morning stubble contrasting with the warmth of his lips. He snuggled into the strong muscles of Efren’s chest. “Good morning, dearest.”

  “It is indeed.” Efren turned to look at the light filtering in around the closed draperies and sighed. “But alas, it looks like the sun has cleared the mountains, so we’re out of time to make this fine morning even more glorious than it already is.”

  Efren flipped back the blankets. Chill morning air hit Marcelo’s backside to serve what was probably Efren’s purpose by correspondingly cooling their libidos.

  “Brr.” Marcelo shivered. “Was it this cold yesterday morning, but I was too distracted to notice?”

  “Get used to it, my darling. I would say winter is worse, but when it’s particularly bitter, servants will sneak in early to start a fire.”

  Marcelo rubbed his hands together. The cool air wasn’t so bad. He could even see it as invigorating. Certainly Zioneven’s chillier climate did not negate the upside of his overall improved life, particularly the promise of many more “glorious” mornings and evenings to come in the company of the husband with whom he was rapidly falling in love. “Do you know if I’m to return to what was my usual daily routine today? I believe Erich said I dress for the training field in the morning, then bathe after that workout, before the noon meal?”

  “Yes.” Efren nodded. “We’ll both do that. We’re still not going to be of much help sorting out what happened, and we are not yet cleared to resume the tour of the realm.”

  Marcelo followed Efren’s lead, taking turns using chamber pots behind a privacy screen, rummaging through his wardrobe for his field clothes, and even preparing and using his own tooth-cleaning powder and rubbing cloth.

  Efren had not done so today, but yesterday morning, he’d pulled the rope to summon Dru—and inadvertently in his m
ind, Erich. Perhaps that had been only because he’d awoken to a stranger in his bed and offering him some refreshment and/or an escort out of the castle was proper etiquette since Efren could hardly invite a “bed-warmer” down to the family meal. And their personal servants might not have thought anything of it because yesterday hadn’t been a typical day; it had been the day when they were supposed to leave on their tour of the realm.

  Apparently on a typical day, when they were dressing in rougher clothing and not needing to take any particular care with their grooming, they went through their initial early morning routine on their own.

  Although still an unfamiliar process, it was easy enough to do, at least until Marcelo laid down his hairbrush. Yesterday, Erich had done his hair in a queue, which made the most sense for morning practice. He’d worn his hair in that style in the past for riding, but he’d never thought to pay attention to how that was achieved.

  But he did know how to tie a knot, so he gathered his locks at the back of his head and tied a leather thong around the bundle, close to his scalp. He could ask Erich later to teach him how to execute the more complicated style.

  Efren finished first, and was leaning against his wardrobe with a glint of humor in his eye as Marcelo clumsily made his way through the balance of his grooming.

  “I admire your grit and determination,” Efren said.

  Marcelo’s brows drew together. “All I did was get dressed for the morning, same as you.”

  “Yes, but in your memory, is that something you’ve ever done for yourself before yesterday?”

  Marcelo’s face warmed. Efren already knew the answer to that. As the crown prince of Zioneven—as opposed to the superfluous rare royal son in Sheburat’s matriarchy—he would be informed of minute details about the royal families of the four realms, and he would have particularly known all about Marcela’s younger siblings in case the contingency plan had to be put into place so Efren could make an informed choice. Even if Marcelo were inclined to tell an untruth, there would be no point in it.

  “No.” He drew in a deep breath and stood straighter. “But it wasn’t particularly difficult.”

  “But you didn’t fuss. You saw what was expected of you here in this society, and you did it without question or complaint. You even improvised with your hair.” Efren stepped closer and picked up Marcelo’s hands. “Yes, it’s a small thing, but I have difficulty imagining any other noble from Sheburat, man or woman, doing the same.

  “You think that’s ‘grit and determination’ rather than caving on my principals in order to conform?”

  Efren grinned knowingly. “Are you doing what you want to do despite what you grew up thinking was the only proper way to do things, or are holding your nose and doing things you find distasteful out of fear?”

  “All right.” Marcelo’s lips twitched. “I see your point.”

  “Every time I see your lovely chin go up, I feel a little more proud of you. Doesn’t matter that this example is something minor. Determination is clearly a large part of your character.”

  “Thank you.” Marcelo gave Efren’s hands a press. “I appreciate the way you build me up and encourage me. Erich was concerned that not remembering my seemingly out-of-character courageous deeds might have a negative effect, keeping me from again becoming the man I’d been two days ago. But I can see you’re not going to let that happen.”

  Indeed, nobody would. Marcelo had been shown nothing but true respect borne of the person they knew rather than his rank. He’d earned it, apparently, and he was determined to continue to earn it.

  “Shall we?” Efren proffered an elbow, Marcelo took it, and they walked together to break their fast with the family. To his credit, Efren only pointedly flexed the arm Marcelo was holding half a dozen times, and did stop after eliciting the giggle he’d apparently been striving for.

  Chapter 16: The Wheels Turn

  Marcelo, the next day

  Walking along, the cut-and-thrust sword with which he’d been training bounced at Marcelo’s side. It was smaller than Efren’s, but that did nothing to dim Marcelo’s pride. Of course the sword would be smaller just as his body was. During their discussion yesterday, Stevyn had mentioned that they played to each man’s strengths, and for Marcelo, that meant speed and agility rather than raw power.

  Marcelo lifted his face as he and Efren approached the practice field. In the expansive, blue, almost cloudless sky stretching overhead, a single carrier pigeon soared toward the castle from the southwest, from the direction of Proye castle.

  He didn’t know much about the political world. Yet. But he did know news sent via carrier pigeon usually meant something important, potentially urgent, or at least time-sensitive. Otherwise, day-to-day news traveled with riders between the realms because it was steady, reliable, and day-to-day progress updates didn’t require that level of urgency.

  Carrier pigeons only homed in on their established base, so batches of the birds had to be manually transported in cages on wagons to their starting points. Logistically inconvenient, so their use was limited.

  Although most made it through, approximately one in ten pigeons never made it to their destination. Sometimes they were waylaid by natural causes, and sometimes skilled archers would shoot an arrow to down a pigeon.

  Treaties between the realms prevented each from accosting diplomatic riders from the others. News from approved ambassadors via official couriers did not constitute spying. Even news sent via carrier pigeon was repeated in the next communication sent via the daily riders to ensure its eventual receipt.

  Efren must have seen it, too, because he came to a halt. Marcelo paused with him and waited to see whether or not they would return to the castle to discover the news immediately rather than in a few hours, after their training exercises were completed.

  Efren groaned and heaved a sigh. “I was looking forward to some time on the practice field.” But he hitched his head for Marcelo to follow, and they turned back toward the castle. “Maybe this won’t take long, and we can return before missing too much.”

  Either way, Marcelo floated along, giddy at being included. No doubt he was romanticizing it, but the mere thought of joining the men on the practice field energized him. His inclusion in the return to the castle did likewise. He couldn’t help but hold back his shoulders as straight as possible at being brought along to discover the contents of a carrier pigeon’s message. He was trusted with knowledge.

  Every aspect of life with Efren was grand.

  By the time they reached the conference room, the family and appropriate diplomats were already assembled, discussing the missive.

  “Ah, Efren, Marcelo. Come join us,” King Alnod said. “Palmer sent some intriguing news. Concerning, but we’re trying to decipher what they might be up to, and whether or not we should be alarmed.”

  Efren bent his head to Marcelo. “Palmer is our ambassador to Proye.”

  The king nodded. “It’s not as if it is the first time they’ve gone missing, at least ‘missing’ as far as those outside their inner circle know. They do so from time to time without it necessarily meaning anything nefarious is behind it. But with everything going on lately, our concern is, at the very least, elevated.”

  “Who is missing?” Efren asked.

  The king nodded to Giles Bailey, who’d been introduced to Marcelo yesterday as the King’s top aide, to take over.

  Giles said, “King Ulric and Prince Artemis. Palmer has seen neither of them in the five days it’s now been since Prince Bertram’s burial. At first he allowed that they might be keeping to their private suites in mourning. But he has just learned that they’d both left the castle grounds before dawn the morning after the burial.”

  Marcelo managed to suppress his reflexive gasp at the news of Prince Bertram’s recent death. Efren didn’t appear to be surprised, though, so that intelligence must have been included in the short briefing he’d received yesterday morning before he’d come back upstairs to collect Marcelo.
/>   Efren winced and whispered to Marcelo, “Sorry, I neglected to mention Bertram’s passing to you yesterday.”

  Marcelo gave the arm he was still gripping a light pat.

  Giles continued. “We’ve been brainstorming what they might be up to. The most likely idea so far has to do with their traveling to Sheburat to plead on Olstin’s behalf.”

  Brows drawn together, Marcelo looked up at Efren, who whispered, “King Ulric’s lover.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Giles said. “I need to remember that you’re back to square one regarding knowledge around the realms.”

  “It’s understandable,” Marcelo murmured. “And thank you.”

  “I should add,” Giles said, “that Olstin is being held as a spy in Sheburat’s dungeons, and that he and the king have been in a relationship since before the king’s marriage to his children’s mother.”

  “I see.” Marcelo nodded, his eyes wide. Such a huge thing in the political world, yet until he’d awoken in his and Efren’s bed yesterday morning, the idea that relationships and even marriage between two men existed would have shocked him.

  “Actually,” King Alnod said, “we were about to adjourn this impromptu meeting since there doesn’t appear to be any immediate danger, and we’ll pick up the matter again at this afternoon’s regular session. In case their own ambassador hasn’t made the same determination and notified them, we will send a pigeon to Sheburat, since again, the most likely purpose of Artemis and Ulric’s disappearance is related to Olstin, which is an ongoing priority for Ulric.”

  With that, the king stood, and everyone filed out of the room. Marcelo looked at Efren as they stepped back into the sunshine and shrugged.

  Efren snorted a laugh. “That hardly seemed worth the walk back, or the time missed on the field, but you never know. We would be remiss if we didn’t return for a pigeon.”