A gay story: Defiance Ch. 08 Hey,
Just a quickie before you go onto the story. This chapter is a little different from the previous ones, as you’ll find out if you decide to read on. I’ve had a lot of feedback, which I really appreciate by the way, and a lot of people have said the chapters are too short. What I’ve tried to do with this entry, and all of my other current stories, is lengthen them a little. Because I don’t want the story quality to suffer they’re taking a lot longer to write than they normally would.
Plus I recently moved to a new country with a new man and I’m struggling to find the time to write as much as I used to ;o)
Can I ask that you stay as patient with me as possible? A few of you seemed worried that I might not finish a story but I assure you they all have a conclusion, it just might take me a while to figure out what it is and then find away to write it down ;o)
So Cheers guys and I hope you enjoy.
Mickie
*********
Tate hurt, from his throbbing calf to his broken wrist all the way up to his pounding head. He closed his eyes and lent his head against the wall of the old inn as the tracker ordered a room for them both. He could feel the fat old innkeeper’s eyes on him. No doubt the old man wanted to know what a tracker was doing dragging an injured tinker into his establishment. It couldn’t have been a common sight. Since he had first worn the gypsy’s garb he had been banned from most taverns and inns. Not now though. No one would dare bar him now.
He felt a firm hand on his upper arm and started violently. “Asleep on your feet lad?” The tracker asked, pulling him towards the stairs and all but lifting him up each step. “I’d think the son of a barren would be made of sterner stuff. Your mother’s blood must have tainted your fathers something fierce.”
Tate didn’t bother to answer. The insults meant little to him now. All he really cared about was getting some sleep before he fell facedown from exhaustion.
He limped after the tracker, trying not to flinch from burning pain in his leg. The tracker pushed him onto the bed furthest from the door. Tate was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.
*******
“He’s taken him hasn’t he?” Tanis said quietly, trying to keep his anger in check as he walked alongside his old teacher. “That traitorous vagabond found him and then instead of bringing him back here he’s taking him back to the palace himself. The son of a dog! If I ever get my hands on him I’ll rip him in half.”
“He might not have found him yet.” Kenner said mildly, idly checking the locks on the wooden cages as they walked towards the front of the precession. “He might be on his way back here as we speak.”
Tanis snorted loudly, causing some of the tinkers to raise their heads in alarm. He glared at them and immediately regretted it when a little girl began bawling her eyes out. Is this what I’ve become? He wondered in self disgust, a monster only fit to frighten tinker children?
“He could be dead.” Kener suggested, as if such a thing could comfort him. “The bastard has proved remarkably resourceful. Perhaps he and the other two tinkers killed him.”
“A number of people have seen two men of their description riding towards the palace. Of course he isn’t dead! Damn it, Christian will crucify me unless I come back with him.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
A very good question and he supposed there could only be one answer. “We go after them.”
They couldn’t take a large number of men. Despite the tinkers passiveness they still outnumbered the soldier’s considerably. So then it would just be the two of them. They were ready to leave in the hour.
*******
Tate woke sometime later. It was still dark outside but he guessed it was getting close to morning. The tracker lay across from him, his bed positioned so that it blocked the door. Tate shifted slightly and realised that his feet were tied together. His leg cramped as he sat up and he had to stifle a moan. He looked up sharply to see if the tracker had noticed but the other man’s breathing remained slow and constant. He squinted at the intricate knot binding his legs and repressed a curse. He wished he had enough light to see by, but he supposed wishing did him little good. He tried to untie the god forsaken thing but with only one hand it was near impossible. Maybe if he had more time but the sun was starting to rise and he knew the tracker would wake soon.
He needed a knife, any sort of weapon. Surely the other man’s pack was filled with them. He eased himself down off the bed and pulled himself belly first slowly across the floor. Without the use of his legs and with only one arm it took him a distressingly long time but he finally managed to catch one of the packs. He sat up and started opening it.
“Come on lad, did you really think than was going to work?”
Tate let it drop and ran his hand through his hair. He hadn’t expected it to work but he had hoped it might. He looked up as the tracker rolled out of bed and stepped over him. The other man grabbed the top of Tate’s injured arm and hauled him back to his bed. “You don’t give up do you?” He asked as Tate desperately tried to gain some purchase with his feet and take some of the weight off his arm. “I have to admire your courage, if not your intelligence.”
Tate buried his face into his pillow and let out a muffled curse. By the gods, how much more could he take? He turned on his back and tried to sit up but the tracker knocked his roughly back down. He pulled out a knife from his belt and sliced Tate’s bindings. “Put your boots on.” He said, flashing his fierce wolf grin. “It’s time to go.”
*******
Millianous stood up and stretched his aching back. The chains rattled loudly as he slowly flexed his thin arms and legs. By the gods how he wished to be free of the flimsy chains, but then that was impossible as long he remained trapped in the even flimsier prison of his own flesh. He released a tired sigh and tried not to dwell on the almost tangible sky that lay just beyond the crumbling stones. What would he give to step beyond the tiny window and feel the rush of the wind and sky on his face once again? If only the others would come for him.
He stepped to the limits of his chains and reached out towards the window. It was open again now, opened because he had submitted and behaved. Wind and water caressed his outstretched fingers, bathing him in their purity and light.
He heard laughter then, cruel and malicious. He stumbled back and nearly fell over the cumbersome chains. How long had he been watched? He shuffled back to his chair, desperate for some sort of anchor. Rough hands caught his arm, halting him mid-step and pulling him back. He was pulled close to the princeling, so close that he could feel the heat radiating from the young mortals fevered body. The chains attached to his wrists were pulled together behind his back. He could feel Christians other hand on his hip. “So beautiful,” Christian mumbled into his ear, his voice mocking and dark. “So pitifully vulnerable.”
“What do you want Christian?” Millianous demanded, refusing to be cowed by a half insane pup. His hackled rose when he felt Christian’s fingers trace over his spine. “Do not!” He thundered, throwing power and fury into the two small words. Christian tensed but he didn’t release him immediately. His own pride would not allow it. Instead he leaned forward and pressed a quick and chaste kiss against Milianous’s hard mouth. There was no lust, no passion. Christian feared Millianous too much for that, even if he wasn’t able to fully admit it to himself.
“Where is he?” He asked, Pulling Millianous to his chair and throwing him down into it.
“Your half-blood you mean?” The prophet asked mockingly. “One of your wolves has him I believe.”
He could feel Christian’s excitement and pleasure. It sickened Millianous that he had contributed to it.
“And they’re on their way?” he demanded.
Millianous closed his eyes briefly and concentrated on the half-blood. It was becoming easier and easier to locate him. It was odd but there was something about the runaway that Millianous felt drawn to. He saw a brief image. The boy was sitting on a log within a forest. Just in front of him another man was cursing a fallen horse. In his temper he lashed out at his captive, kicking him a solid blow to the leg. The half-blood’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He fell down onto his back and stopped moving. “They’re on their way.” He answered thoughtfully, his voice tepid with sorrow. It was odd that he should care about the wellbeing of a mortal but some small part of him felt for the young one. What would happen to him when Christian finally caught him?
********
Come here.” The tracker snarled as Tate began to fall behind. His leg was throbbing and he was exhausted but the other man could have cared less. All that mattered to him was that they maintain their speed. The tracker wrapped his hand around Tate’s uninjured wrist and pulled him close, forcing the smaller man to keep pace with him. Eventually though Tate’s leg crumpled beneath him and he fell. “Damnable weakling!” the tracker yelled. “In the name of the gods, how did your father never drown you at birth?”
The half-blood was too tired to mind the insult. It felt like someone was forcing rusted nails into his flesh. He lay back and tried to block out the other mans acid tongue but it was difficult to ignore the sharp slap across his face. “Answer me when I talk to you!” he snapped, twisting his hand through Tate’s shirt and forcing him up into a sitting position. “By her lady’s grace I swear I’ll permanently cripple you if you don’t get up.”
Tate had to bite down on his tongue to kill his first response. He took a deep breath and gestured at his calf. “I can’t. Call me weak or womanly but the damned thing won’t take my weight. You’re the one that decided to put a knife in me and it’s hardly my fault that your horse was lame! What would you have me do, fly?”
The tracker snarled in disgust and pushed Tate away with more force than was necessary. Tate banged his head on the rocky ground and let out a quiet moan of pain. The constant pounding that had accompanied him since morning was but a pleasant memory compared to the fierce stabs of pain attacking his eyes and skull. He rolled over and wished quite uselessly that he was back in the wagon he had shared with Lukas.
He must have fallen asleep because when he next opened his eyes the sky had turned black and there was a fire burning happily beside him. The tracker was staring intently down at him, his wolf like expression made more severe by the light of the fire and the encompassing darkness. His smile was ghastly. “There’s someone out there half-blood.” He said softly, his voice barely loud enough to travel over the crackling flames. “There might be two of them. They move so well though that it’s hard to tell.” His smile widened. “They will have horses. They may have brought us exactly what we need.”
For one heart halting moment Tate thought it was Lukas come to help him. Then a woman burst from the darkness and threw herself at the tracker. They went down in a tangle of limbs and blades. A hand caught Tate’s shoulder and twisted him around. A smiling young lad of some twenty summers raised his blade and placed it gently against Tate’s lips, clearly intending for him to stay quiet. He looked over Tate’s shoulder and his grin widened, almost splitting his face with its intensity. Tate didn’t dare move but he heard the trackers muffled scream. One more muffled groan and then silence.
“Well done sister.” The boy said brightly. He looked back at Tate and gently rolled the blade across the half-bloods lips. “Hello little tinker.” He said, still smiling as Tate stared stiffly back at him. “Tell me my friend, do you have any blades, any weapons at all?” he moved the blade away slowly. “Do not lie to me. Have you or not?” Tate shook his head once and the other man laughed. “You’ll forgive me if check for myself.” So saying he ran his hands over Tate’s body, patting him down to ensure he was unarmed. When he was seemingly satisfied he fastened onto Tate’s broken arm and drew it out between them. “My my little tinker, you have been through the wars lately haven’t you? Did your friend do this or are you just clumsy?”
With the blade gone Tate risked a glance over his shoulder. The tracker lay flat on the ground, his body bent at an odd angle. Was he dead?
“Can’t you talk little friend?” he looked over Tate’s head. “I think we’ve frightened him Silvia.”
“Stop being cruel.” The woman laughed. She bent down beside Tate and rested her hand on his knee. “You’re unconscious friend seems to have hurt you quite thoroughly hasn’t he? Misbehaving were you?” She tapped her long fingers over his leg and up his thigh. “My but you are a pretty one, isn’t he pretty brother?”
“Beaten up but decidedly pretty, what a marvellous find you are. What do you think the traders would give us for him Silvia?”
“Well he’s a half-breed. Take him out of these clothes and he’ll be worth considerably more. Your people are not particularly popular at the moment.” She said, looking back at Tate. Her hand wrapped around his wrist and she pulled him to his feet. She was only a little taller than him but she was very strong. “I’ve a notion to keep him for myself.” She said laughingly.
“Too bad we need the money.” The lad said with an exaggerated sigh. He reached out and grabbed Tate’s other arm, pulling him away from the woman and into his own embrace. “Though I’ve a mind to enjoy him before we sell him on.”
“No!” Tate said, twisting in the other mans arm. He managed to free himself but then his own leg betrayed him and buckled. He fell to his knees, panting in agony as his injured leg pulsed angrily beneath him. The woman laughed and the boy smirked as he tried to crawl away from them. Why, he thought desperately, is this how it’s always going to be? Is there nothing else?
The boy dropped on top of him, his weight forcing the air out of Tate’s lungs. He screamed out his fury and denial but the other man just laughed at him. Tate’s feet scrambled for purchase, the pain in his battered body momentarily forgotten as he tried to break free. Hands ripped his brightly coloured trousers and forced them down Tate’s thighs. Tate saw iron gleaming at the boys side and he reached for it. His attacker realised what he was doing a moment too late. Tate had the dagger in his uninjured hand. He held it up, preparing to thrust it in the bastard’s neck. He never got the chance. He heard a pained grunt. The boys eyes widened in surprise as he looked questioningly down at Tate. “Silvia?” He said faintly before collapsing on top Tate. The half-blood tried to push him off but another force dragged the dead man off him. He looked up, expecting the girl. Instead the tracker flashed Tate his wolf smile and showed the younger man his bloody dagger. “You alright?” He asked, his eyes wide and almost crazed looking.
Tate’s instincts took control. He surged up, trying to bury the knife in the trackers gut. The other man jumped away at the last possible moment. His smile sharpened as he looked down at the half-blood. “Is this how you thank me Tate? I just saved you from the southern slave galleys.”
“Fuck you!” Tate hissed furiously, limping back from him. He could feel hot tears streaming down his cheeks but for the life of him he couldn’t seem to stop it.
“Drop the knife you little fool, or are you really going to make me take it from you, again?”
They stared at one another for a long time. Tate didn’t try to attack him but he couldn’t just give the blade up either. The tracker let out an exasperated sigh and stepped towards him. In one swift move he simply plucked the blade from Tate’s numb fingers and placed it in his own belt. He shook his head wordlessly and gestured to the ground. Tate continued to stare at him until his legs were kicked out beneath him.
“Do not move half-blood. I’m going to get our new horses.”
And Tate didn’t move, because he was finally starting to realised that he wouldn’t get anywhere until he was whole and healthy and that wasn’t going to happen if he kept giving the tracker excuses to hurt him. It had been a slow and painful lesson to learn but he understood now. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.
*********
We’ve got no food left, no money and we can’t go into the towns or cities because the moment we do we’re solider fodder. So tell me Lukas, truly and plainly, what is it you expect us to do?”
Lukas tried to school his expression as he pulled out the last loath of hard bread they had left between them. Robert had been keeping up a constant flow of insults and misgivings since the following morning and Lukas had finally had enough. He threw the loaf at Robert and stood up. “Damn it Robert, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now, I don’t know how to save the others, I don’t know how we’re going to avoid the soldiers forever! Why do you keep asking me, why don’t you know these things?”
“Me?” Roberts smile was cruel and bitter and entirely unlike him. “I would never suppose myself your equal in anything Lukas. How could I ever hope to succeed where you’ve failed?”
Lukas opened and closed his mouth a few times but he couldn’t find the words. The gulf that had opened up between them seemed wider than ever and he didn’t have the slightest idea how they would ever cross it. He wished their father was with them. He’d make Robert see the way, he’d make him understand that the anger he was harbouring wasn’t going to help anyone. But he’s not here, Lukas thought as a fresh stab of guilt struck his chest, growing more profound as his mind wondered to thoughts of Tate.
They heard screaming then, loud and high. It had steadily grown worse as the days progressed and both brothers were at breaking point. Lukas supposed Tanis had been controlling his soldiers somewhat but since he had ridden off two mornings ago it had become an almost constant noise.
“That could be any of our sisters.” Robert hissed, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. “For mercies sake Lukas, what if that’s Rose or Lillian?”
Lukas looked wordlessly back at him. He felt sick as dreadful images streaked through his mind. He dropped his head in his hands and tried to block out their screams.
“We have to do something Lukas!” Robert snapped. “Damn it man, listen to them!”
“I can hear them brother.” He answered softly.
“Then in the name of the gods do something!”
“Don’t you think I would if I could?” Lukas said into his hands.
He only barely heard Roberts’s mumbled reply. “This is your fault.”
And the gods help him, it really was.
*********
“Can you read this?” The tracker demanded as he thrust a dirty piece of paper in Tate’s face. “They did teach you to read didn’t they?”
Tate took the parchment from him and scanned the contents. “It’s confirming the outlawing of tinkers.” He said faintly as his heart started hammering in his chest. “What are they doing with them after they’ve been rounded up?”
The tracker gave him a sly look as he plucked the paper from Tate’s grasp. “I’m not sure; some will become southern slaves I suppose and the rest.” His grin grew wide and wolfish. “I’m betting they’ll be slaughtered. All the worse for them that you decided to seek their help, eh half-blood?”
How could he defend himself when the other man was speaking the truth? It is all my fault; he thought guiltily, all of those people are going to die because of me. It was almost too much to bare thinking about. Instead he turned his head and scanned the town courtyard. He realised that he’d passed through the town before, a short time before he met Lukas and his family. It struck him suddenly just how close he was to his home, which meant he was just that much closer to Christian. For a moment white hot fear flared through him but it was quickly smothered with guilt. All those good, innocent people were going to die because of him, because he refused to give into a spoiled, stupid boy. Perhaps it was only fitting that he be given over to Christian. The gods only knew what the other man would do to him when they met. Tate very much doubted that the councillors promise to take him into his household would hold still hold sway. From what the tracker had said Tate had suddenly become common knowledge and clearly no one objected to his treatment.
He stumbled when the tracker caught his arm and steered him towards some of the back streets. Tate was about to object when he caught sight of a dark Inn with blacked out widows and a faint red light above the door. The tracker wasn’t looking at him anymore; his eyes were fixed on the young woman hanging outside the front porch.
Her corset was torn and dirty and indecently low cut and her dyed red hair and black charcoal eyes only confirmed what she was. She smiled as they approached, her small green eyes passing dismissively over Tate and landing on the tracker. She bared her crooked teeth in a tight smile and gestured them through the door with a flourish.
They were only inside for a few moments before a bony woman of advancing years swooped down on them. She smiled falsely at the tracker before staring slyly at Tate. “You selling?” She asked curiously.
The tracker laughed when Tate flinched back from her grasping hands. “I’m buying actually. I just need a room to put the boy until I’m done.” His smile grew when she looked dubious. “Never fear mistress, he won’t cause you any trouble.”
Tate was handed into the care of a young man who had enough bruises and cuts to rival even Tate’s. “You belong to him?” He asked, when the two of them were out of earshot, though the tracker was determined to keep Tate within his sights until he was securely locked up for the night.
“No,” Tate said quietly. “I don’t belong to him.”
“You’re a tinker though?” He smiled dreamily. “Where are all you bracelets?”
Tate turned his head from the tracker and the young woman he had chosen and looked out at the blackened window. “I threw them away.”
“That’s a pity, they’re fine looking things.” The boy looked over Tate’s shoulder and frowned slightly. “Was he the one that hit you?” He asked quietly.
“I certainly didn’t do it to myself.” Tate said, though he said it with a soft smile to show his venom wasn’t meant for the boy. “But who hit you?” He asked, looking into the lads light blue eyes.
He shrugged and jerked his bony shoulder back towards the old woman. “She rents me out to a man,” he shuddered slightly. “He likes to be rough.”
“There seems to be a lot of men like that among the northerners.” Tate said quietly. “You can’t fight him off then?”
The boy looked scared by the mere thought of it. “He’d kill me!” he squeaked.
Tate looked pointedly into the lad’s eyes. “He seems to be doing that a bit at a time anyway. Why not run away? They can’t be watching you every moment.”
The lad let out a small bitter laugh. “They don’t watch me at all! Just look at me, I’m hardly this places prize, that’s why she lets him have me. If I ran away they’d never bother to try and find me. I’d starve in a few days.”
“How long have you been here?” Tate asked, silently horrified that such a young man could have so bleak a future.
“How long? I suppose forever is as good a number as any.
“What is your name?”
“Ibin. And yours?”
Tate faltered for a moment. Did it really matter if he kept his name a secret? He was caught, what good would it do him now? “My name is Tate.” He said, quietly enough so no one else could hear. He offered the young man a smile but it melted away when he noticed the boy was gawking at him. “What is it?” Tate asked, suddenly fearful. “Ibin, what is wrong?”
“You’re him.” The boy actually stepped back. “You’re the one he’s looking for.”
Tate caught the lads arm and pulled him close. The tracker wasn’t paying attention to them anymore; he was too busy with his young mistress. “Who is looking for me, Ibin, what are you talking about?
“Him, by the high heavens, him!”
Tate took a deep breath to try and settle his hammering heart. “You mean Christian don’t you?” he settled his head on the startled lads shoulder. “By the god’s, does everyone know?” Ibin stiffened beneath him and Tate quickly stepped away. He could appreciate not wanting to be touched. “Can you tell me what you’ve heard?” He asked, trying not to let the desperation sound in his voice.
The boy closed his mouth with a little click. “Just rumours and gossip. The town’s strife with it. They say you ran away from Christian after you knifed him. They say you’re the reason their hunting down the gypsies.”
“Town strife with what?” A high voice suddenly snapped behind them. Both men turned around guiltily as a young mistress glared hauntingly at them. She was tall for a woman, easily Tate’s height if not a little taller. She looked different to the other mistress’s Tate had seen. She was cleaner looking for a start and she dressed almost decently. Her hand lashed out and she clouted Ibin across the back on his head. “I thought you were supposed to be watching the gentlemen’s tinker Ibin, not chatting gossip to him.
The boy bobbed his head guilty and took a sharp step back. “I was watching him mistress, I swear I was. He isn’t going anywhere.”
She sneered at the boy but it turned into a honey smile when her eyes met Tate’s. “I can see why he’s so eager to keep track of you. Gypsy or not you’ve got a look about you.” She stepped closer towards him, closing the distance between them until she was uncomfortably close. “Though I’ll wager my fortune that you’re a half-blood. Did your mother like to open her legs to all comers little tinker?”
“No more than your own I’ll wager.” Tate said angrily. “Though by the looks of you I’d say you’re hardly the subtle type yourself.” She tried to slap him but Tate caught her wrist before she could land the blow. He smiled at her. “Does the truth sting my lady?” He asked curtly.
Her eyes became small and hard as she stared calculatingly back at him. “A half-blood indeed but certainly no tinker. That’s a noble accent if I ever heard one. Tell me something boy, exactly whose little bastard are you?”
“I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.” The tracker snapped at the young mistress as he pulled his chosen girl behind him. “Come on then, I want this one locked up.” His other hand latched onto Tate’s wrist. “Off you go tinker, and mind your tongue before I cut it out for you.”
Tate was locked into a small room with no windows, very little air and barely enough room for him to sit down. He tried the lock a few times but the door was solid and it refused to give. Not that he had really expected it to. He had an unpleasant inkling that he wasn’t the first soul to be trapped in the tiny prison. He settled down eventually and rested his head on his knees. He kept telling himself he had slept in worse places until eventually he dozed off.
**************
Someone shone a bright light in his face, nearly blinding him as he hurriedly sat up. He could just make out the outline of two figures as his tired eyes tried to adjust to the sharp light. “Have you anything to say for yourself, master tinker.” He recognised the voice as the young mistress that accosted him earlier in the day. She laughed glibly. “Or do you prefer to be known as Tate De’van, youngest son of the Barron Hasan?”
Tate slowly edged his way up into a standing position with the wall pressed firmly against his back. He smiled hatefully back at her. “At your service mistress.” He said, bowing mockingly.
Her eyes closed slightly as she glared at him. She gestured the bigger figure beside her forward and Tate fell a large hand encircle his wrist. He was pulled out of his tiny prison and out into an empty common room. His eyes had finally adjusted to the torch and he could make out the features of the man that was holding so tightly onto him. He was a few years past his prime and his light blue eyes were surrounded with a dozen fierce scars. He had a nose that had been broken many times before and thick leathery lips. Tate gave his arm an experimental tug but unsurprisingly it did him little good. “Don’t cry out.” The mistress warned him, her big blue eyes fierce.
Tate shrugged at her. “Alright then. But where is the tracker?”
She smiled at him. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“Killed him have you?” Tate asked casually.
“Do you care?”
Another shrug. “Not in the slightest.”
“Come along then. I have someone who would like to meet you.”
**********
“Well well, what do you make of this my old friend?” Tanis asked his old teacher as he examined the gnawed remains of what looked like two vagabonds. The surrounding camp had been left in a hurry. The tracker obviously decided it wasn’t worth the effort of covering their tracks if he wasn’t going to bury his attackers.
“A struggle certainly.” The older man said thoughtfully. “Clearly the tracker prevailed and he seems to have won himself a couple of new horses. No matter though, we have him now. These corpses are barely two days old.”
Tanis smiled up at him. “Then let us be off. This game grows tiresome.”
********
They’re moving too quickly.” Lukas said miserably as he ducked down under a score of bushes. “We’re going to reach the capital within a few days.”
Robert pulled at the loose, drab clothing they had stolen a few days before and plucked a spider off his shoulder. “I wonder how much of our family will be left by the time they get there?” He asked harshly.
Lukas looked sharply back at him but he wasn’t in the mood for another argument. He bowed his head and prayed to the gods to give him strength not to throttle his brother. “Have you eaten yet?” He asked instead.
Robert flashed him a harsh smile. “Have you?”
“Not yet.” Lukas said tiredly.
“Well me neither. Guess we’re just going to have to tighten our belts. Tell me something Lukas, did you notice that the girls aren’t screaming anymore.”
Of course he had noticed. How could he not. “What do you want me to say Robert?”
“I want you to assure me that they’re not already dead. I don’t suppose you can do that though, can you big brother?”
Lukas looked back at him and wordlessly shook his head no.
“I didn’t think so.” Robert said quietly.
***********
The half-blood didn’t start struggling until they tried to force him into Olivia’s coach. He dug in his heels but his leg buckled almost immediately and he over balanced and fell over. Magnus had a firm hold on the boys arm and thrust him into the coach. He made the half-blood sit on the floor and pressed him back against the seat as Olivia stepped into the carriage. She wasn’t normally a very hands on person but there was something about the mongrel’s eyes that greatly bothered her. She pulled back her foot and landed a solid blow to the boy’s side. He let out a quiet grunt and hugged his arms around his chest. Truly, he didn’t look like much a threat curled up.
“That took some of the fight out of you didn’t it.” She said, feeling just a little smug as he curled deeper into himself. “Not so glib now, eh mongrel?”
She hadn’t expected him to answer her so she didn’t take too much offense when he buried his face into his arms. She was a little surprised though. She had thought that the baron’s children were trained warriors. A rumour had reached them in the town dregs that the half-breed was unblooded but surely he had some sort of combat training. To give up so easily just seemed bizarre to her.
Still, if a small kick mad him quiet and complacent who was she to complain. She just wanted to sell him on and get back to her fine establishment. With the money she got from him she would finally be able to do up her place, make it fancy and respectable. The sort of place a real man would want to frequent instead of the ruffians she had to contend with.
They pulled up to a curve and Olivia pulled back the coaches ragged scarlet curtains. The house in front of her screamed of wealth and high blood. She hadn’t crossed into the high houses since her years as a virgin beauty and she had almost forgotten how overwhelmingly fine they were up close.
The moment she stepped outside and pressed her scuffed slippers to the cobbled ground she saw a guard bearing down on her. She raised her arms in a gesture of peace but he wasn’t stopping. “I have something for Lord Thomas.” She said loudly and shrilly. She gestured Magnus outside and he dragged the half-blood with him. Another guard was quickly heading towards them but neither of them seemed to care that she wasn’t there to cause trouble. “Tell him I have brought him something he seeks, something of great importance!”
“A gypsy?” One of them asked mockingly. “There are plenty already hauled up in the capital. Be gone whore!”
“Not this one.” She said indignantly, angry now that he was treating her like a common ruffian. “This one is special. For god’s sake man, at least give me the opportunity. You’ll not regret it.”
Both men looked questioningly at one another. “It couldn’t hurt to ask,” the older one said with a begrudging nod in the mongrel’s direction. “That one does fit the description.”
“Pass him over then.” The younger one said.
Olivia laughed at him. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to just give him to you. I caught him after all, I brought him here!”
She couldn’t control her scream when the elder one drew his sword and stabbed Magnus in the stomach. The big man fell in a gurgling heap on the floor, spattering the pretty pavements a crimson red. She heard the coachman gasp behind her but he wouldn’t come to her rescue, he was old and feeble. The younger guard grabbed the half-blood and pulled him close. The boy barely flinched as he was dragged towards the main house. “Be gone whore.” The older man said with a disgusted shake of his head. “And don’t show your dirty face here again. You’re lucky I don’t cut you down where you stand.”
She turned tail and threw herself into the coach. The driver took off immediately, leading them back into the dregs of the town. “Bastards!” She said furiously. She hit the coach wall beside her. “Damned bastards!”
She barely made it through the front door when she felt a cold presence shift up behind her. She felt an icy sharpness pressed against her throat and a hot wheezing breath in her ear. “Where is my half-blood, whore?” The tracker asked her, his voice harsh and cruel as he pressed the knife into her flesh.
“I, I-”
“Never mind,” He said dully, and then she felt a sharp pain flare through her throat, quickly followed by a hot wetness that poured down her chest. “I’ll just find him myself.”
The last thing she saw before the darkness rushed up to snare her was a wolfs smile.
**********
Ralan had met the half-blood previously, years ago before the boy had reached adolescence. He had been exotic then but it was nothing compared to what he looked like as a man. The rumours had not exaggerated his beauty. Even battered and bruised his features were exquisite. It was a pity that there didn’t seem to be anything behind those magnificent golden eyes beyond dull fear and beaten submission. From what he had heard about the boy he had expected a spitting hell cat. Had he not laid eyes in his before he might have questioned whether he had the right man?
“Have you no tongue, young lord Tate?” He asked, only a little mockingly. The boy turned his head away and averted his eyes. Ralan reached down and gently caught his chin, forcing the young man to look at him. Those great amber eyes truly were beautiful. “You should greet a higher lord accordingly, child.”
A shuddered sigh. “Greeting’s my lord.”
“Greeting’s Lord Tate. How do you fare?”
“Well my lord.” The boy said, staring unblinkingly back at him.
“You’re a hard lad to track. Half the countries been on your scent and here you just fall into my lap. It must be fate.”
“Then the fates must hate me.” The boy said, so softly that Ralan barely heard him.
**********
Tate didn’t fight when they placed him on the tiny room. He sat on the thin pallet and watched the young guard check the locks on the windows. He turned around and pointed an accusing finger at Tate. “You try to run away and my sergeant says he’ll break your other arm, you hear me half-blood?”
Tate ducked his head respectfully but he was beginning to grow sorely bored playing the meek little captive. He told himself it was the smart thing to do, to make them think he was as docile as a kitten. It would not have been his first choice but he realised that he needed to play on his strengths and he knew one of those was his ability to appear quite harmless. It had already worked with the whore. When she had kicked him he had forced himself not to react and consequently she had left him alone.
He stood up and checked the door. Unsurprisingly he was locked in. Even though he’d watched the guard a moment before he tried the locks on the windows. They were firmly closed to him as well. He shrugged and sat back down on the pallet. At least it was better than his previous accommodations. He reasoned that it wasn’t the time to try to escape yet anyhow. Not when everyone was watching him so intently. The best thing he could do was wait until his leg had healed before he tried anything else. He leant back and closed his eyes and dreamt about dark painted eyes and woven golden hair.
*************
Lukas ran his hair over his long braided hair and felt a deep sadness well up in his heart as he raised the knife. It was only hair, he told himself, but that didn’t soothe him because it wasn’t true. Braided hair was a part of his people, a part of what made them who they were.
“Hurry up!” Robert snapped at him, his eyes hard and unyielding as he tied his own shortened hair into a warrior’s knot at the base of his neck. Lukas watched him sadly. His little brother had never looked more like a stranger.
He closed his eyes and hacked breathlessly away at his long braids. They fell like rope around his shoulders, spilling messily over the woodland ground. Lukas missed the weight of them instantly but he didn’t comment as he pulled what remained behind his head and tied it into a tight knot. “What we must look like.” He said softly.
“I’ll tell you what we don’t look like anymore.” Robert said snidely.
Lukas stared questioningly back at him.
“We don’t look like victims anymore big brother.”
Lukas wondered suddenly, when did it happen? When did I lose my brother? “Which makes us what I wonder?” he said softly, but Robert wasn’t listening.
“Time to go.” He said, his eyes fixed on the huge walls that surrounded the city of the Northern Kings.
“Yes,” Lukas agreed, “It’s time to go.”
***************
It was getting lighter for longer outside, which could only mean that summer was finally on its way. It was still chilly though. Tate pulled his loaned jacket a little tighter around his shoulders as he pulled his knees up against his chest. It had been a long time since he had been allowed some privacy.
Lord Ralen’s gardens were beautiful, if not slightly too well kept. Tate rather enjoyed wild flowers, more so since the variety he had seen whist travelling with the tinkers. A brief image of Lukas passed through his mind before he pushed it firmly away.
He tested some weight on his leg and was pleased that it barely twinged in protest. He was healing at least. Even his arm was getting stronger.
“You should smile more often.” A deep voice said beside him. Tate looked up sharply and felt a dead weight in his stomach. He hadn’t even heard the lord Ralan approach. When the other man sat down beside him Tate stood up. “Sit,” The lord said, quietly but firmly. Tate sat back down, uncomfortably aware that he was being stared at. “Do you think your fooling me?” Ralan asked at last, his tone light and pleasant.
“Fooling you my lord?” Tate shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“With this little act of yours. What is it you hope to achieve?”
“I’m not-” Tate began but he was quickly interrupted.
“You expect that I’ll just allow you to escape?” The lord clucked his tongue in disapproval. “You’re going to earn me a pretty penny boy, not to mention the prince’s favour. I’m not going to let you out of my sight until then.” They both sat there in silence but Tate could feel the other mans sudden displeasure. “Have you nothing to say?” He demanded at last.
“Nothing at all.” Tate said numbly. “Do with me as you will, there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”
He grunted as a hand wound through his hair and pulled his head back. He caught Ralen’s wrist but he didn’t try to dislodge his hold. “Do with you as I will?” The lord repeated, making it into a question. “And what if I should decide to keep you, what if I should decide to use you before I pass you onto your prince? What then?”
“If you do,” Tate began and he felt a moment of calm as he released the other man’s wrist. “If you do I’ll tell him. I swear to the gods that I will! And I’m sure you can imagine what his reaction will be.”
He tensed as he waited for the other man to strike him down. When he felt soft lips pressed against his Tate’s heart began hammering in his chest. He was sure his threat would have worked! But the kiss ended quickly and the other man was smiling when he pulled back. “I think that perhaps I’ll request to have you once the prince has had his fill.” His smile grew wider. “You’re a devious little beast aren’t you? Well we’ll see how well you cope in court. We leave on the morrow.” He ran a light caress over Tate’s cheek. “Enjoy the garden Tate. It may be a while before you’re let back off a leash.”
**********
Tanis waited impatiently in lord Ralen’s foyer. They had been left to their own devices for too long and Tanis was eager to collect his prize and go. When at last Ralan came into greet them the other man was dressed in finery that far surpassed Tanis’s dirt streaked travelling clothes. He could have cared less though. He wasn’t there to impress a know nothing lord.
“My prince,” The other man said mildly, performing a small bow. “What a pleasure.” His tone indicated it was anything but pleasant to have them there. “How might I assist?”
“Sources tell me that you have managed to acquire something that belongs to me.” The information had been fairly easy to find out. Apparently the woman that had been murdered was spotted bringing a gypsy to the lord’s home not long before she was found dead. A jittery and bruised young whore had been happy to part with information regarding the tracker and Tate, all he asked for in return was a few meagre coins and assurances that Tate would not be harmed.
“I hasten to question my princes sources but I have no property in this household that isn’t rightfully mine.” His smile was relentless as he sat down, unbidden before his prince. “Perhaps if you tell me what you lost I might be able to help retrieve it for you.”
“I’ve very little patience for this Ralan.” Tanis said, too weary for courtly drivel. “You have the half-breed. He was stolen from me and I want him back.”
“My my Tanis,” The smile on the others man’s face was hideous. “If I didn’t know any better I would have thought I was talking to your brother.” His smile widened. “If I did have Hasin’s bastard I would hardly feel obliged to just hand him over to you. As far as I’m aware our people do not tolerate slavery and the boy has yet to be accused of any crime. If he was here, and you understand that I’m not saying he is of course, then I would not have do anything, especially give him to you.”
“You’re playing a very dangerous game Ralan.”
The other man shrugged and stood up. “That’s the difference between us my prince, I’m not playing.” He gestured towards the door. “If there isn’t anything else?”
“No,” Tanis said stiffly. “Thank you for your time, my lord.”
“My pleasure, Prince Tanis.”
***********
Tate said quietly in the lavish carriage and forced himself to release the death hold on his brightly coloured trousers. Ralan stepped in a moment later, dressed impeccably in a dark grey tunic and trousers. His warrior knot was tied tightly as the base of his neck and he held a solid oak cane in his hand that had the head of a roaring lion.
Tate’s hand went subconsciously to his own hair. It fell loose and straight to his shoulders, so dark and blatantly foreign. It had grown so long and he had never once thought to cut it. How must he look, dressed as a tinker and wearing his hair free and wild. He wanted to braid it but the smug look the lord gave him made his cheeks burn and he let his hand drop onto his lap
Ralan tapped the carriage roof and it began to move immediately. After a moment Tate pulled aside the small red curtain that blacked the window and peered outside. He tried to make it look casual but he wasn’t fooling anyone. “You see my guards don’t you?” Ralan asked good naturedly. Four warriors, all of them in their thirties and all of them were staring fiercely back at him. How could he not see them? “Don’t try anything foolish half-breed.”
Tate let the curtain fall back into place and sat back. How long would it take to reach the city of kings? One day, two perhaps. He wanted to know but he couldn’t bear to ask Ralan. His entire body twitched with the need to run, to keep moving. He wondered if he could overpower the lord. He had been trained after all, even if he had never accomplished much on the training fields.
“I wonder what he’ll say when he first see’s you.” Ralan said suddenly and Tate’s head whipped up in alarm. “What do you suppose he’ll do to you?”
He stared expectantly at Tate, he actually wanted an answer. “I suppose you’ll find out.” Tate said at last. He lifted his chin and met the other mans gaze steadily. “I won’t let him destroy me.”
“Ah, I knew the meekness was all an act. You’re quite the hellcat. Perhaps you might survive Tanis, though I very much doubt it.”
“What do you know of survival?” Tate hissed, “You fought a battle perhaps, managed to earn your first blood? Well doesn’t that make you quite the man! A snobbish lord who has so many servants that he doesn’t even know how to scratch his own wrinkled arse!”
He had a moment to curse himself and his flapping tongue before the cane caught him squarely in the stomach. He pitched forward and felt a firm hand on the back on his neck. His legs were kicked out beneath him and he fell onto his backside. “Why don’t you spend the rest of the trip on the floor?” Tate flinched as a soft hand patted his head. “There’s a good slave.”
He pressed his fist into his mouth and willed himself not to speak. Stupid bravado only caused pain. He knew that now and he thought he might need all of his limbs and strength if he was going to survive.
**********
Lukas kept his head high and his expression stern as they walked the length of the city, but it wasn’t long before somebody recognised him and his brother for what they really were. He felt a firm hand on his arm and was pulled into an alley before he had time to protest. He was knocked up against a wall and a moment later his brother was pushed up beside him. They both tensed, positive that they were about to join the others in the cadges when they noticed the smiles the men around them were sporting. Lukas looked more closely, he imagines hair braided and decorated with charms, darkened eyes and tinker bracelets. “Thank the gods,” He gasped, sagging back in relief.
“The gods haven’t been kind of late but thanking them can’t exactly hurt can it.” The older man was tall and thin, with ash coloured hair and light grey eyes. He smiled tiredly as he offered Lukas his hand. They shook, clasping one another’s hand firmly. It had been too long since Lukas had clapped eyes on a potential friend and he was relieved beyond words. Robert stepped forward then. He offered his own hand but he didn’t smile or speak to the older man. He stepped back quickly, fidgety and agitated as he looked back towards the city streets. “You and your friend should be more careful.”
“Don’t we know it?” Lukas said with a tired smile. “My name is Lukas; this is my younger brother Robert. Our family were brought in today with Prince Tanis’s train.”
“I am called Adam,” he gestured towards his four comrades. “This is Mikard, Stephen, Joseph, and Rowan. There are more of us hiding in the sewers, all of us from different tribes. I saw your people come in. How many are in your tribe?”
“Some twenty of us. The others were picked up before and after ours. We haven’t been able to get close enough to count how many he’s captured all together.”
The other man growled low in his throat. “We’ve managed to count over sixty. Many of them are women and children. We expect they’ve killed off most of the men and elderly. The young men and women are not in a good way. The soldier’s have-” He stopped for a moment, his face draining of colour. “They’ve violated many of our youths and girls.”
“Bastards!” Robert snarled, causing all of them to turn to look at him. He lashed out and punched the nearest wall. Blood began dripping down his hands as he lifted his finger and jabbed Lukas in the chest. “I told you! I told you what they were doing to them, to our sisters, to our brother! Damn it you stupid fool, this is your fault, all of it is your fault!” He drew back his fist again but this time he wasn’t aiming for the wall. Lukas knocked his younger brother’s hand away at the last possible moment and then weeks of anger and frustration and fear overwhelmed him and he balled up his own fist and struck his brother across the face. Robert fell back, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed.
He looked back at his shocked new comrades faces and raised his hands beseechingly. “It is a very long story.”
“Well then pick up your brother and tell us of it.” Said Adam.
Lukas did as he was bid but he had a feeling that after he was done with his story the others wouldn’t be so keen to keep company with Lukas.
**********
They had made a decision but it lay heavily with Tanis. How many more lives was he going to sacrifice to save his own? It should not have mattered to him that gypsies’ were being rounded up and disposed of, everyone knew that they were vermin, and it should not bother him that he was about to kill Lord Ralan, the man was bringing it down on himself, but like so many things in Tanis’s life he couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right choice. Why did his life matter more than theirs?
He saw Ralen’s carriage riding towards them, guarded by two men, both of them young, robust and armed. They would not be easily taken down but Tanis was willing to bet that he and Kenner’s had the greater skill. They stayed in the middle of the road, waiting as the coach pulled up before them. Lord Ralan was already leaning out, scowling at the delay. He saw Tanis and shook his head irritably. “By what right do you halt us?” He asked furiously.
“As I said before my lord, you have something that belongs to me.”
“And as I said before I assure you that I do not.”
Tanis smiled at him. “Then open the carriage and allow me to look inside.”
The lords’ own cocky grin was beginning to slip away. “You do not have the right.” He said, sounding confident.
“I am your prince and I am commanding you to open the carriage!” He had not meant to shout but his temper was quickly fraying. He did not wish to kill Ralan, nor his unfortunate guards and driver but if the other man didn’t relent soon he was going to do just that, because what other choice did he have? He was beginning to realise that self preservation could do a lot to twist a man’s conscious.
“If I don’t?” Ralan asked contemptuously.
“Do you really want to find out?” Kener asked, smiling lazily, looking as if he was about to doze off.
Ralan looked between them for a moment and then back at his own guards. He smiled suddenly and shrugged. “Very well then Tanis, it appears that I am beaten.” He sighed dramatically. “You take away all the fun in life lad.”
He moved back inside his carriage and Tanis and Kener both tensed, expecting him to attack. But then he flung a brightly coloured figure out of the carriage and onto the dirt floor. The half-blood let out a quiet grunt as he hit the ground. Ralan looked down at him and shook his head resignedly. “How close I was to such acclaim.” He smiled abruptly. “Ah well, I shall carry on ahead as planned. I wish to see the outcome of this little play. Farewell Lord Tate and may the gods have mercy on you.” He turned back to Tanis and bowed. “And to you my prince, good luck buying your life with my party favour.”
“Be gone.” Kener growled at him, fingering his blade carefully as Ralan disappeared inside his carriage with a flourished wave.
He jumped off his horse and sheathed his blade when the carriage was a safe distance away. “Lord Tate,” He began tentatively as he stepped up to the other man’s hunched over form. Tate was smaller than he expected him to be. Barron Hasan was a great bear of a man and so were his other sons. Tanis could only presume that Tate had taken after his mother for his slightness and height. The half-blood soft brown hair lay loose and free down his back and shoulders, covering his face like a veil as he stared down at the ground. His shoulders were a comely bronze colour, unlike anything Tanis had ever seen before. He stepped closer and eased down onto his knees beside the elder man. He noticed that the half-blood was cradling his left arm. “Are you hurt?” He asked awkwardly.
He was shocked by the bitter laughter he heard but he pushed his surprised away quickly and reached towards the other man. He caught a glimpse of his Tate’s face when the other man flinched away from him. “Don’t!” He said, not a command but a plea. “Please, just allow me a moment.”
Tanis leaned back on his haunches and waited. He resisted the urge to push Tate’s hair back from his face and study the exquisite features he had momentarily glimpsed. He reasoned that he was about to destroy the other man’s life. The least he could do was offer him a few moments to collect himself.
“All right.” Tate said suddenly and he rose so quickly that Tanis was left scrambling up after him. “I’m ready.”
Tanis took in the hollow eyes, the broken arm and the willowy frame and it struck him suddenly how very little Tate was ready for what was about to happen to him. But what is one more soul compared to the dozens I’ve already sacrificed for my own? He thought miserably as he shepherded the elder man up onto his horse. He climbed up behind Tate’s slight frame and tried not to think about how good it felt to have the other man in his arms. Dangerous thoughts, he decided as he spurred the horse forward, dangerous and incredibly stupid. The important thing now was getting him to the palace and handing him over to Christian. Then his own life was be secured and he could finally rid himself of the death threat lingering over his head.
He just hoped he would be able to live with himself when it was all over.
***********
He had surrounded himself with beautiful, exotic men, each one of them more pleasing to the eye than the last. They catered to his every whim, they offered him everything he desired and they did it gladly. They adored him, they respected and wanted him. So then why did the great open void in his chest refuse to close? Why couldn’t he allow himself the contentment he so badly yearned for? For the god’s sake, he was going to be king one day! Why did one man affect him so much?
It all came back to the bastard, that small, unimportant creature that should not have mattered. Christian had had many lovers in his young life and none of them had held his interest for long. Did he want Tate so badly just because he couldn’t have him or was there more to it? Surely lust couldn’t invoke such torment in any man? There had to be more.
His current favourite entered the room then. His dark golden hair and midnight blue eyes set him apart from the rest of their race. He denied any corruption in his family’s bloodline, shrugging off his odd colouring without explanation. He did not look like Tate, no man in the kingdom did, but he was beautiful, perhaps as beautiful as Tate was in his own right. He smiled at Christian, a soft, innocent smile that set Christian’s heart racing.
“I’ve brought wine my lord, if you so desire?” His voice was soft and sensuous. Whatever his fate might have been within his family before he had caught Christian’s eyes would have been wasted on him. The older man oozed sex. Christian believed he had found his newest lovers true calling in life and was quite proud of himself for taking his newest pet for himself. There had been the initial resistance of course. The other man’s mother had made a terrible racket, as had the young woman clawing to reach the then startled young man. Alec had adapted quickly though. He actually seemed quite grateful to be taken away from his old life.
“Wine would be welcomed Alec,” He gestured to the empty goblet beside him and the other man immediately knelt before him and poured a cup of blood red wine. Alec kept his eyes lowered as Christian took a sip. He reached out casually and stroked the other mans cheek and he was more than a little surprised when he felt Alec flinch away from him touch. Tate’s old words suddenly shook him “Has anyone ever denied you before?” and the answer was no, because who would dare deny him anything? He reached out and brutally caught the base of Alec’s skull. He forced the startled young man to look up at him and he could almost feel the terror radiating from him. “Why do you recoil?” He demanded, almost shouting in his anger. “Have I ever hurt you? Having I given you reason to fear me? Why do you flinch away?”
Alec’s dark eyes were as wide as two sovereign coins. He started babbling an apology, his entire body shaking as Christian stared at him. Christian didn’t think of himself as a cruel person. He understood that there were certain necessities in life and that sometimes hurting other people was part of his duty as heir to the throne. But sometimes a terrible anger overtook his good sense and that made him do terrible things. It was not his fault; he only acted that way when he was provoked.
Abruptly he pushed Alec onto his back and stepped over him. The other man was cowering on the floor, his whole body curled up into a tight knot. Christian wanted to hurt him, he honestly and truly did, he wanted to kick and punch until his own anger abated and he could think clearly again. But no, he wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t kill the little craven whore, at least not this time.
He didn’t bother with niceties. He didn’t want any of the whores gentle coaxing this time. He had a need which needed to relieved and he intended to use whatever he had at hand to do so. He ripped the other man’s shirt clean in two and then his hands were encircling the craven things waist. He fumbled with the trousers, his anger growing tenfold when they refused to undo. “My lord, please,” The whore’s voice was still soft but it was chocked with fear. “Please my lord, allow me.” He looked up, his dark eyes filled with open worry. When Christian didn’t react he reached out with shaking hands and undid his belt buckle and then the trousers. He wiggled out of them, his eyes fixated on Christian’s the whole time. He let out a shaky breath and crawled towards the prince on his hands and knees. The longer Christian watched him the more his anger was replaced with need. He smiled slightly as the lithe young man gently parted Christian’s legs and crawled between them. He undid Christian’s trousers and gently pulled out the prince’s cock. He smiled sweetly at Christian before taking the thing in his mouth and applying a warm sucking motion.
Christian allowed his head to fall back, his anger trickling away with satisfaction as he allowed his newest pet to please him. The other man really was beautiful and clearly he did want Christian. His eagerness was proof enough of that. He must have imagined him flinching before. After all, why in the world would he want to flinch away from him? Who wouldn’t want him?
He pulled him off and forced him on the floor. He pressed his weight down on the other man and pressed a kiss on his sweet lips. Alec kissed him back, his eyes closed and his face smooth as Christian pressed against his tight hole with his finger. The other man gasped in pain as Christian pressed it deeper within him. He wasn’t using any sort of lubrication. It must have hurt. “Tell me you love me,” he said abruptly, the sudden words bursting unbidden from his swollen lips.
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The other man hesitated for only a moment. “I love you.” He said in that soft, silky voice of his.
“Say it again, keep saying it.”
And so the other man kept chanting his love for Christian over and over again. As he spat on his fingers and appendix, as Christian widened him and then entered him. Alec screamed his love, profoundly and honestly, over and over again. He screamed it as Christian forced himself deep within the hot tight chasm that effulged him, as he pounded deep inside of him. Through it all the other man screamed him love.
Christian only wished he could believe him.
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