The Laws of Ilyria - 11/17
Title: The Laws of Ilyria
Author: radiogaga33
Pairing: Adam/Tommy, Adam/Kris (friendship)
Setting: Fantasy AU
Rating: NC-17 (NC-17 overall)
Word Count: ~8500
Beta: sweet_poeia
Disclaimers: No claims to any copyrights, trademarks, or any other intellectual property. I do not own these characters. They belong to themselves. This is purely a work of fiction. It never happened.
Author’s Notes: Okay, so there's a lot happening in this chapter. It's pretty dense and it's the first one with POV jumping. Just hang on and if you're still breathing by the end, let's chat. P.s. My beta is seriously the most awesome person in the world. ILU bb!
Warnings: Pseudo-slavefic.
Summary: Adam is a conquering king hell-bent on revenge against the ruler who destroyed his life as a child. He ends up taking the ruler’s son, Tommy, as tribute after winning the war between the kingdoms. Events unfold.
The Laws of Ilyria
Chapter 11
“Prince Thomas?”
Tommy jerked away from the tree at the sound of Vice-Lord Allen’s voice behind him. He turned and stared at the High General coldly, clenching his hands tight in an effort to stem the suicidal urge to smash the duplicitous bastard’s face in. All this time, he’d been the king’s lover. Tommy felt like screaming again.
“Get away from me!”
“Prince Thomas, calm yourself.” Vice-lord Allen’s voice held a note of warning, but Tommy willfully ignored it.
“I said, get away from me. Leave me alone!”
“Mind your tongue, Prince Thomas. This is not Troianus, and you are not my lord.”
“I beg your pardon then,” Tommy said without the slightest trace of sincerity or contrition. “There. You have your apology. Go back to your lover.” Tommy spat out the last few words like they were poison.
“My lover?” Confusion creased Vice-lord Allen’s features for a brief moment. It irked Tommy to witness the falsity of it. Did the man take Tommy for a fool? He’d seen them with his own eyes.
“Lord Lambert is not my lover.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. I saw you.”
Vice-lord Allen shot him a wide-eyed look of disbelief a split-second before he burst into laughter.
Tommy bristled at the sound. “I’ll thank you not to mock me, Vice-lord Allen.”
“And I’ll thank you not to play the fool. The king is not my lover.”
“I saw you together. I saw the way you were holding him, the way you were touching him.”
“And this bothers you?”
“Yes, it does!”
“Why?”
“Because-because he is mine!” Tommy stopped himself abruptly, shock shattering the haze of jealousy. What had he just said? When had he started to think of Lord Lambert as belonging to him? He was a slave now, a man who had no right to claim even his own self and yet, some audacious part of him had claimed the king as his own without Tommy’s knowledge. The thought sobered him and he grew quiet where he stood.
“Is that so?”
“Please, just leave me be. I’m alright. You can go back to your lover now.” Tommy’s voice was quieter now, defeat weakening his earlier fervor.
“Alright. Listen to me. I’m only going to say this once more. Lord Lambert is not my lover.”
“I saw-“
“You don’t know what you saw!” Vice-lord Allen snapped. When Tommy flinched a little at the sharpness in his voice, Vice-lord Allen took a few calming breaths. By the time he spoke again, his voice was softer.
“Prince Thomas, I know that you’re upset, but I need you to understand that you’ve misinterpreted what you saw just now in the king’s tent.
“I don’t see how.”
“Please, let me finish, Prince Thomas.”
Tommy shut his mouth and waited.
“I met Adam when we were ten years old. I’ve known him for two decades now, and I’ve loved him for just as long. Adam…hasn’t had the easiest life. King Eber’s death, Elysia’s demise at the hand of your father, Queen Leila’s death-it was one tragedy after another and it damaged something in him. Adam suffers terrible nightmares, and when we were young, I would hold him at night until he could fall asleep again. Adam and I have no secrets between us, and no false modesty either. It is our way, and I won’t apologize for it. I went to Adam tonight because he hasn’t slept in two nights. When you walked in, I was comforting him, nothing more. I did not kiss him. I did not make love with him. I never have and never will. He is my friend, not my lover. That is all.”
Tommy let out a shuddering breath as the tight knot in the pit of his stomach finally loosened.
“Forgive me, Vice-lord Allen.”
“There is nothing to forgive. It was an honest mistake.” Vice-lord Allen’s face relaxed into a wry smile. “But please, no more talk of this, otherwise I’ll have an awful lot to explain to Katy once we return to Elysia.”
“Katy?”
“Katherine, Vice-lady Allen. My wife.”
“Your wife?” Tommy said, dumbfounded.
“Yes. We’ll have been married for eleven years, come September.”
Suddenly Tommy felt incredibly stupid, and more than a little embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”
Vice-lord Allen laughed. “It’s nothing.”
“I can’t believe how terribly I misinterpreted what I saw. I’m mortified. Serves me right, I suppose, going where I wasn’t invited.” Tommy’s lips curled into a rueful smile.
“Why did you come to the king’s tent?”
Tommy looked away. “I…I wanted to tell him something. Something important.”
“Tell him what?”
Tommy hesitated.
“Prince Thomas, you can speak freely. I assure you, this conversation travels no further than here.”
Tommy turned back to face him. Steady brown eyes stared at him, waiting. Lord Lambert trusts him, Tommy thought. Perhaps Tommy could trust him too.
“You say that you and the king have no secrets between each other. If that’s true, then you already have some idea what I wanted to talk to him about.”
“Two nights ago. When you touched him. Is that it?”
“Yes,” Tommy replied.
“What happened?”
“You already know.”
“I’ve only heard one side of the story,” Vice-lord Allen replied. “I have yet to hear yours. Why did you touch him?”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“But why did you touch him in the first instance?”
Tommy ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “I don’t know!” he cried plaintively.
“Was it because you wanted him?”
Tommy felt like his skin was burning beneath the intensity of Vice-Lord Allen’s searching gaze. When Tommy remained silent, Vice-lord tried again.
“Do you want him?”
Tommy stared, lost and defenseless. Did he dare answer? Did he dare say the truth out loud?
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Even after what happened that night?”
Tommy blushed. “I know what it must have looked like to you. But the truth of the matter is, Lord Lambert didn’t really hurt me. I enjoyed what happened between us. I wanted it. I still want it.”
“So why hold back? Why not tell him precisely that?”
“Because I can’t!” Tommy cried. “Because to feel this way about the king-about any man- is weakness.”
“What?”
“My father says that it’s wrong to have to such feelings for another man. He says it’s a material failing, that it’s weakness.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard said. The laws of Ilyria say that women can marry women, and that men can marry men. Surely, you don’t mean to say that your father’s word is greater than the Oracle’s? That’s blasphemy.”
“But-”
“Listen to me, Thomas.”
Tommy’s eyes widened with surprise to hear the High General address him informally.
“May I call you Thomas?” Vice-lord Allen asked, drawing closer.
“Yes.”
“Listen, before, when I told you about my wife, there was something important I didn’t say.”
“What?”
“Katy used to be a worker-slave in my father’s house.”
Tommy gasped in surprise. Vice-lord Allen had married a slave?
“I know it isn’t done. I know it’s almost unheard of for a nobleman to marry a slave, but I did, because I loved her, because we fell in love with each other. I was only eighteen at the time, and my father threatened me. He swore to the high heavens that he would disown me and disinherit me if I insisted on marrying Katy. And so I let her go. Even though I’d never loved anyone or anything as much as I loved her, I let her go. Because my father said so. I suffered day and night for a year, denying myself, because my father said so. And then one day, I woke up and I swore I wouldn’t live that way anymore. So, I went out into the city and I found her and I married her right then and there. I promised her that we would make our own fortune. Do you know why I did that? Do you want to know why I defied my father?”
“Why did you do it?” Tommy asked.
“Because, eventually all parents die, and we are the ones who shall survive, to enjoy or to endure whatever life we’ve made for ourselves. Do you really want to spend the next year, the next decade, or the rest of whatever time you have left on this earth living a half life because your father said so?”
“No.”
Vice-lord Allen closed the distance between them and placed reassuring hands against Tommy’s trembling shoulders.
“Then do something about it. Go to Adam. Tell him how you feel. Tell him why you’ve been holding back-tell him everything. Do what Katy and I did. Make your own fortune, Thomas.”
“But what if I’m too late? What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”
Vice-lord Allen laughed softly. “Believe me, he wants you. If there’s anything you can be certain of, it’s that.”
Tommy swallowed hard as his mind shook with conflicting emotions. He wanted to believe what Vice-lord Allen had said, but that other part of him held strong to the past and his father’s cutting words.
“What if I can’t do this?”
Tommy felt Vice-lord Allen’s hands tighten on his shoulders. “Yes, you can. Fortune favors the brave.” Vice-lord Allen smiled. “And you don’t strike me as a coward.”
Tommy couldn’t help but smile a little to hear Vice-lord Allen praise him. “You honor me too much, Vice-lord Allen.”
“Kristopher.”
“What?”
“You can call me Kristopher.”
Tommy’s smile grew wider. He felt himself relax beneath the reassuring warmth and weight of Vice-lord Allen’s hands on his shoulders. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, and steadied himself with a deep breath. Suddenly, he understood what Lord Lambert saw in this man.
When Tommy opened his eyes again, he smiled and said, “In that case, you can call me Tommy.”
“Is that so? Well, alright then, Tommy.” Kristopher stepped back and dropped his arms. “So, will you go to him?”
Tommy’s smile faded. “I need some time. I need to think.”
“I understand.”
“Do you mind if I stay out here a little longer? Alone, I mean.”
“Of course not.” Kristopher peered off into the distance. “But please, don’t stay out here too long. Adam will have my head if something happens to you.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“No, we wouldn’t. I rather like my head.”
The two men burst into laughter at the same time. When they quieted, Kristopher turned back in the direction of the night camp.
“Kristopher!” Tommy called, before the other man walked away.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. I won’t forget this kindness.”
“It’s nothing.” Kristopher smiled. “Goodnight, Tommy.”
* * *
Adam was exhausted. He ran a hand over his face in a gesture of weariness and shifted on his bed once more. The caravan had made night camp less than an hour ago and Adam had retired to his tent immediately, nerves too strained for conversation or supervision. They could all do without his presence for one evening, and besides, Kristopher could manage the caravan every bit as well as Adam. So, he’d settled into bed, lying flat on his back and staring up into nothingness, listening to the muffled noises filtering in, and pretending he wasn’t trying to search out the sound of the hunting party returning to the caravan.
He groaned aloud in the low light of the tent. Adam hadn’t slept properly in the five nights since the scene with Prince Thomas outside his tent. And since the brief incident two nights ago, his sleeplessness had gotten worse. He’d barely been able to remain upright on his horse today, he’d been so tired. And Kristopher’s insistence on secrecy wasn’t helping. No matter how much Adam pleaded and cajoled and downright threatened, Kristopher refused to tell him what had passed between him and the prince.
“I made a promise,” Kristopher kept saying. Adam swore softly. The man and his damned principles.
“But I have to know what happened. What did he say to you? Why did he come to my tent?”
“You’ll discover your answer soon enough,” Kristopher kept replying in that frustratingly calm, clear voice of his, before changing the subject.
Sure, he could afford to be calm; he had time for patience when he wasn’t the one drowning in a flood of confusion and frustration and desire. Adam didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to make of the weeks of morning conversations, the prince’s intense, lingering looks at night, the way he had played with Adam and touched him five nights ago, or the way he had stormed off upon seeing him with Kristopher. He wants you. He wouldn’t do any of those things if he didn’t feel the same way you do.
Once again, Adam brushed off the voice in his head. He knew better than to entertain false hope. How could the prince want him after what Adam had done-what he still wanted to do? Adam wanted to kiss him. He wanted to slide his tongue into Prince Thomas’s mouth to see if he tasted as sweet and intoxicating as Adam remembered. He wanted to kiss every last inch of Prince Thomas’s body, to fuck him and fill him until the prince was weak from the pleasure, until he was addicted to it and the man who gave it to him. Adam wanted all that and about a dozen other things, and every time Prince Thomas was near, every time he smiled, every time he murmured some endearing thing, it took every ounce of strength Adam could muster not to reach out and take what he wanted.
The pounding of hooves in the distance made Adam’s muscles tighten suddenly where he lay. The hunting party was back, and Prince Thomas as well. Briefly, Adam considered dragging himself out of bed and stepping out of the tent so he could-what? Stare at the prince from a distance? Twist himself up in knots and stand speechless if he actually walked up to the prince and tried to talk to him about the night he’d stormed out or the night before, when Adam had panicked at the table and sent the prince away? It was useless. Just like the thought of lying with another man-a thought Adam had entertained and very nearly acted on more than once since that first disastrous night. Useless, because no one else would do. Adam wanted Prince Thomas. He wanted him, but he couldn’t have him. So he turned over in bed, pressed his face into the velvet covered pillow and heaved a heavy sigh of resignation. Yet another night to be spent, fantasizing, hoping against hope…drowning.
Two hours later, when he heard the sounds of someone entering his tent and the telltale clink of utensils and plates on a tray, Adam barely moved. By then he’d settled into that gray space between sleep and full consciousness and he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge the soldier with anything more than a grunt and a dispirited wave of his left arm. When the man left, Adam huddled deeper into bed, ignoring the food, as appetizing as it smelled, all thoughts focused on dark brown eyes, and a pair of long, slender fingers he longed to feel on his skin. He fell into the gray space once more, so deeply that at first he didn’t notice the sound of someone entering his tent again. But when the sound of sandals scraping across the floor covering finally broke through his consciousness, Adam groaned in response. It had been all of fifteen minutes. Why had the soldier returned so soon to collect the tray?
“You’ve returned too early,” Adam said with his head still pressed into the pillow. “Come back in an hour.”
“I could do that, my lord. But wouldn’t you rather I stayed?”
Adam’s eyes flew open. Prince Thomas.
He rose to his feet in a hurry, brushing his rumpled hair away from his face as he stood. Prince Thomas was standing near the entrance to the tent, hair wet and face scrubbed clean like he’d bathed only a short while ago.
“Why…why are you here?”
Prince Thomas shifted a little on his feet. “I wanted to talk to you.” He cast a sidelong glance at the food-laden tray on the table. “I didn’t mean to come so soon after Jonathan served you. I suppose I was over-eager. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
Adam moved closer and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “As you can see, you’ve interrupted nothing. I’ve yet to touch any of it.”
“Perhaps I should come back later.”
“No. Please stay. Have you eaten?”
“No, my lord.”
“Then you must stay. Take your evening meal with me.”
Prince Thomas frowned. “You want us to eat together?”
Together. Adam found he liked the sound of that word. “Yes, together.” When Prince Thomas’s frown showed no signs of fading, Adam continued, smiling a little. “There’s more than enough for two, if that’s what has you concerned.”
“But my lord, what you’re proposing, it isn’t done.”
“Yes, yes, I know. And like the last time you reminded me of that, I don’t care. I don’t care what is and isn’t done. Besides, we’re breaking no laws. In here, we can simply be two men sharing a meal. Can you do that?”
Adam watched some of the tension ease from the prince’s raised shoulders. “Yes, I can.”
“Excellent. Shall we?”
They sat down at the table, facing each other, and settled into a quiet meal. Adam did his best to keep up the shaky thread of conversation, telling the prince all about Batuur and the war Adam had waged four years prior. Adam did everything he could to ease the prince’s worry, to signal to the man that he was willing to wait as long as the prince needed to rally himself and tell Adam what he’d come to say.
At the end of the meal, Adam stepped out of the tent for a brief moment, just long enough to call a passing soldier to clear the tray from his tent. When the man was gone, Adam filled a copper bowl with rose water, tossed a swatch of cloth onto his shoulder and returned to the table. He set the bowl down in front of Prince Thomas and bid him wash his hands. After he did, Adam held out the cloth for him to dry his hands.
“My lord, I should be doing this for you, not the other way around,” Tommy protested.
Adam smiled. “Tell me something, prince, have you always been such a devotee to appearances?”
Prince Thomas wiped his hands and sat back in his chair. “Sometimes appearances are all a man has,” he replied solemnly.
Adam stared at him. There was more to that statement, Adam could tell. He washed and dried his own hands quickly and returned the bowl and cloth to the side table he’d gotten them from. Then he walked back to the table and sat down opposite the prince once again. As much as he dreaded what he might hear, it was time to talk.
“What you just said, what did you mean by it?” Adam asked.
The prince let out a heavy sigh. “It’s part of what I came here to talk to you about.”
Adam steadied himself with a deep breath. “Alright,” he said simply. It was all he could manage.
“I want to apologize for shouting and storming off the other night, when I saw you with Kristopher. Please forgive me.”
A note of surprise registered in Adam’s mind to hear the prince mention Kristopher by name. What manner of conversation had they gotten into out there while Adam stayed behind?
“There’s nothing to forgive. It was nothing,” Adam replied. “But why did you do it?”
“Because I misunderstood what I saw. When I walked in here, I thought that…that you were making love, that you two were lovers. I know better now, of course. Kristopher explained everything to me. But at the time, I only knew what I saw and I was angry.”
“Why were you angry?”
Prince Thomas shifted nervously in his seat. “Because I didn’t like the thought of him touching you. Because I don’t like the thought of anyone touching you.”
Adam felt his breath catch in his chest. He was on the edge of something. They were on the edge of something and for all his bravery, Adam was suddenly terrified of falling.
“Why?” he asked, voice little more than a whisper.
When Prince Thomas spoke, his voice was low, ragged, like the words were being dragged out of him.
“Because I want you for myself.”
Just like that, the ground shifted beneath his feet, and Adam was falling.
“How?” he asked, confused, agitated. “How can you want me after what I did to you?”
Prince Thomas’s eyes caught Adam’s again at that question. “That was forever ago. You and I, it’s…different between us now, isn’t it? Besides, I told you the truth about that night already. And I know now that you weren’t trying to hurt me. I know that it was about desire, not power or punishment. I know that if there had been nothing but pain, you would have stopped. You would have ended it.”
Adam was floored. How could the prince be so sure about something that Adam still refused to believe with absolute certainty?
“You have far too much faith in me, Prince Thomas.”
The prince’s eyes grew darker. “No, my lord. I have just enough.”
Adam was humbled by the certainty in the prince’s voice, the resolute tone with which he spoke.
“You want me?” The disbelief in Adam’s voice turned what should have been a declaration into a question.
“Yes,” Prince Thomas replied. “Even though I know that I shouldn’t, even though I know it’s wrong, still I want you.”
The sudden agitation in his voice made Adam start with surprise. He watched the prince drop his gaze, staring down at the table as he tightened and untightened his hands nervously. There was more to this, something deeper, something Adam couldn’t even guess at.
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s wrong to feel this way about you, about any man.”
Adam was stunned. “What?”
“Years ago, I wanted a man. A Batuuri slave who served in the palace. I dreamt about him at night, fantasized about him during the day. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything or anyone.”
Adam tried not to feel jealousy for a stranger. He failed.
“Did you call him to your bed?” he asked, his tone sharp despite his attempt to keep it neutral.
“No. Never. My father….”
Adam stiffened at the mention of Lord Ratliff.
“My father says that to do what we did together, to want what I want, is weakness. He says it’s shameful to feel the way that I feel towards other men. I’ve spent my life hiding from this, trying to be the son my father demanded. For years, I’ve managed to pretend, and I’ve congratulated myself for it. But with you, I can’t pretend. I don’t want to pretend. But this is weakness.”
Prince Thomas’s voice broke on those final words, and Adam felt something in him break a little as well. He stared at the prince. There was none of Prince Thomas’s playfulness now, none of his bravado. He looked so fragile…so infinitely breakable.
Yet another crime to lay at Lord Ratliff’s feet.
“Your father is wrong,” Adam began. “There is no weakness in this.”
“I want to believe that. I want to. But all I hear every waking moment is his voice in my head telling me that this is wrong!”
Prince Thomas rose to his feet abruptly, fists pressed against the table’s wooden surface. Adam got up as well. As he watched the prince shaking with the effort to rein in his emotions, Adam felt his chest tighten with a fierce surge of protectiveness.
“Don’t listen to that voice anymore. Listen to mine. When you hear it, think of my words. There is no weakness in this. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Adam paused for a moment. “This is my fault,” he muttered.
“What? How?” The prince’s startled brown eyes caught Adam’s.
“If I’d been careful with you, if I’d shown you how it can be, how good and right it can be, you wouldn’t still think of this the way you do. This is my fault.”
Adam thought of Kristopher’s words that night. “I would wager my life and all my fortune that the prince has never been touched-certainly not by another man. And you use him like one of the soldiers who lust after you? You use him like a common whore? Who are you? Who are you, Adam?! Do you even know?!”
He had made a mess of things. Adam knew now that he would protect Prince Thomas against all the world. But what if the only person he needs protecting from is me? Adam pushed away the thought. He could still make this right. It wasn’t too late.
Adam stepped around the table and stopped in front of Prince Thomas.
“My lord?”
“Let me show you. Let me show you how it can be. Let me make amends.”
Prince Thomas’s eyes widened. “How?” he whispered.
“Let me touch you.” Adam watched the prince stiffen with hesitation. “Let me. Please. Only pleasure, I swear. Please?”
Dark brown eyes stared at him, weighing his words, measuring him once again. And there was nothing Adam could do but stand still and wait.
* * *
Tommy tilted his head a little, compensating for the seven inch height difference between them, which was more pronounced now that Lord Lambert was standing so close. Close enough that Tommy could feel the warmth radiating off his body. He wanted to be part of that heat, to feel it wrapped around him. He wanted to touch and be touched. He wanted everything he’d never dared to want in his former life as a prince of Troianus.
“Fortune favors the brave,” Kristopher had said. Right now, Tommy was afraid. His gaze swept over Lord Lambert once again, taking in the earnestness and the genuine care written plainly across his face. But bravery isn’t the absence of fear, Tommy thought. Bravery is the will to overcome it. Bravery is the understanding that something else is more important that the fear. This was more important, this thing growing between them. This was more important that Tommy’s fear. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his years living a half life when he could have this-for however long it lasted-with Adam.
Caught in the middle of his careening thoughts, Tommy didn’t notice his slip. He didn’t notice that somehow, even if only temporarily, “Lord Lambert” had become “Adam” to him.
“Yes,” he said simply.
Lord Lambert let out a happy sound and reached out to wrap strong arms around Tommy’s waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. Tommy held still at first, surprised and hesitant, but eventually he relaxed against the king’s body, pressing his face against his broad chest and sliding his arms up to wrap loosely around Lord Lambert’s neck.
“You’re like magic,” Lord Lambert murmured reverently, his lips pressed against Tommy’s right ear.
The words of praise made Tommy flush with heat and happiness. So, this was what it felt like, to be with the man you want, and to know that he wanted you in return. Tommy felt his bravery growing stronger by the second. When the king pulled back and broke the embrace, Tommy almost groaned in disappointment.
“My lord?” Tommy began, silently willing the king to draw him close again.
Lord Lambert stared at him for a long moment, his blue eyes bright with emotion. “Tell me,” he said, reaching out to slide his thumb against the spot on Tommy’s lip where the wound he’d inflicted had been. “Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy didn’t want to dwell on things he’d already forgiven and very nearly forgotten. “What does that have to do with-”
“Just answer. Please. Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy sighed. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” That was all Lord Lambert said before leaning closer and kissing the spot he’d traced over with his thumb.
The king moved, pressing down on Tommy’s bottom lip with his thumb, sliding along the inner seam once Tommy gave in to the pressure and opened his mouth.
“Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy remembered the way Lord Lambert’s engorged flesh had stretched his lips wide, sliding deep into his mouth and sinking down his throat.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” Lord Lambert pulled his thumb away and pressed his lips to Tommy’s, kissing him gently, letting Tommy control how fast it went, and how deep it became. Tommy felt light-headed from the pleasure of feeling this again. He slid his tongue over the king’s, moaning into his mouth, reveling in the heat and sweetness of it. Too soon, Lord Lambert broke the kiss, pulling back to stare down at Tommy.
Once again, Lord Lambert moved, this time sliding his fingers along the smooth, pale skin of Tommy’s neck.
“Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy recalled the way the king had gripped him tightly as they lay in his bed. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lord Lambert slid his fingers into Tommy’s hair, pulling his head back a little. Then he bent his head to leave a trail of soft kisses along Tommy’s exposed skin. When Tommy gasped and raised his hands to grip fistfuls of Lord Lambert’s burgundy tunic, the kisses grew rougher, became little bites, sharp teeth sinking into his skin before soft lips sucked away the brief pain, tongue sliding gently but firmly. Tommy arched his neck some more, offering the king everything, inviting him to take more. This time, Tommy couldn’t help it. He groaned in disappointment when Lord Lambert pulled away.
Tommy felt warm hands slide up his arms, coming to rest on the fists clenched around burgundy fabric. Gently, Lord Lambert pulled his hands away and turned them so that the inside of Tommy’s wrists faced outward. Thumbs swept across both his wrists in a soft caress, and Tommy couldn’t help the slight shudder that ran through him at the simple motion.
“Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy thought of the way Lord Lambert had held him tightly at the end, they way he’d pressed his wrists down against the bed as he took Tommy with hard, deep thrusts.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” Lord Lambert raised Tommy’s hands to his mouth, pressing kisses on both his wrists. Tommy’s hands curled in the king’s steady grip, and it was everything Tommy could do to resist reaching out and pulling him down for another long, soulful kiss.
“Come with me.”
Tommy’s eyes caught the king’s. He wasn’t sure what Lord Lambert meant, but it didn’t matter. In this moment, Tommy would follow him anywhere.
“Yes,” Tommy replied simply.
He let himself be led by Lord Lambert’s hand clasped tightly around his left wrist. When they stopped beside the king’s bed, Tommy suddenly understood. Lord Lambert let go of his hand and reached for the fabric belt wrapped tightly around Tommy’s waist.
“May I?”
Unexpectedly the fear that had slowly ebbed over the past few minutes returned. This is weakness, that old, familiar voice cried sharply. No. Tommy pushed away the insidious voice in his head. No. He focused on Lord Lambert’s words instead. Lord Lambert had said there was no weakness in this, that there was nothing to be ashamed of. It was alright to want this. And Tommy wanted, so much so that he could barely breathe around the all-encompassing desire.
“May I?” Lord Lambert repeated.
Tommy took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Slowly, as if he was giving Tommy every opportunity to change his mind, Lord Lambert untied his belt and let it drop to the floor. Then-moving even slower, if possible-he curled his fingers around the hem of Tommy’s blue tunic and pulled it over his head. The broadcloth joined the belt on the floor. Tommy trembled a little at the feeling of being nearly naked in front of the king.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper, so low and uncertain that it made Tommy himself pause. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes.” There. This time he sounded forceful, resolute.
Lord Lambert nodded and reached for the drawstring holding Tommy’s undergarment closed. With a deft move, the king untied the complicated knot and watched as the fabric fell to puddle around Tommy’s feet. Then he dropped to his knees in front of Tommy, waiting until he’d stepped out of the circle of fabric before telling Tommy to rest his hands on his shoulders. Tommy obeyed, trembling a little, doing his best to ignore the fact of his nakedness and how he could feel the king’s breath, warm and devastating along the hard length of his cock.
As if he didn’t notice Tommy’s state of arousal, the king concentrated completely on unstrapping Tommy’s sandals and removing first one, then the other. When he was done, Lord Lambert stood up and climbed onto the bed, holding out his hand to Tommy. With the long black hair rumpled and falling around his face, the burgundy tunic framing his body to perfection, and the long, muscular length of his bare legs, the king looked like something out of a dream. He was the personification of everything Tommy had ever wanted and everything Tommy hadn’t even known he wanted until now. He would not let this pass. Tommy reached out and took the king’s hand.
Lord Lambert pulled him into the bed gently and pressed Tommy down onto his back. Then quietly, softly, the king began to make love to him. It was the only way Tommy could describe it. It was the only way he could describe the way the king kissed him slow and deep , the way he trailed kisses down the length of Tommy’s body and then up again. It was the only way he could describe how reverently Lord Lambert’s strong hands moved across his skin, like Tommy was some precious thing he had unexpectedly discovered.
When he felt those hands pulling at him, urging him to turn over in the bed, Tommy moved without thinking, settling onto his stomach and moaning softly as more kisses were pressed to his sensitive skin. But when he felt the king’s lips moving over the smooth globes of his ass, Tommy’s scattered thoughts coalesced rapidly, and his muscles grew rigid with renewed tension.
“Tell me,” Lord Lambert began. The whispered words over Tommy’s skin might as well have been firebrands. “Did I hurt you here?” He spread Tommy’s legs wider and ran a finger down the crease of his ass, letting the tip of his finger push at the ring of muscle guarding Tommy’s hole.
Tommy blushed hotly and gripped the bedsheets on either side of his head. Inside him, embarrassment warred with desire. Wantonness warred with propriety. They both knew what the answer was to that question. And now, after the preamble that had gone before, they both knew what would happen when Tommy gave Lord Lambert the answer. The king would kiss him there. Tommy didn’t want that, did he? He couldn’t do that, could he? He-
“Yes.” The word slipped from Tommy’s lips unbidden.
“I’m sorry.”
Tommy held his breath as Lord Lambert lifted his hips a little, just high enough to slip a pillow beneath them, leaving his ass raised in the air. He held it still as the king shifted behind him, spreading Tommy’s legs even wider and settling between them. Tommy felt the heat of Lord Lambert’s breath on his skin and the anticipation of what was coming very nearly drove him insane. And then he felt it, the first touch of Lord Lambert’s lips, an openmouthed kiss pressed against Tommy’s tight hole. Tommy exhaled sharply, the sound ending with a strangled moan when the kiss was followed with a long, slow lick up the crease of his ass. It felt…alien, disconcerting…earth-shattering. It was something he’d never thought to want and yet, now that he’d felt it, Tommy was hell-bent on riding the sensation through to the end.
Tommy gripped the bedsheets tighter, flushing with desire and embarrassment, squeezing his eyes shut and doing his best not to whimper shamelessly from the dizzying sensation of the king’s tongue licking at him. Behind him, Lord Lambert kept moving, licking and sucking at Tommy’s hole, swirling his tongue in devastating little circles, rimming the tight ring of muscle, and all the while gripping Tommy’s ass tight, holding him open. Tommy pushed back a little, unable finally to keep from whimpering when the king began to press at his hole, pushing the tip of his tongue past the outer ring before sliding back out again. More. Tommy wanted-no, needed-more. He pushed back more insistently, chasing after the overwhelming sensation. But the king refused him; instead he continued to slide just the tip of his tongue in and out of Tommy’s hole, teasing, driving Tommy mad with the need for more.
“Please,” Tommy whispered.
“Please what? You have to tell me. Please what?” Lord Lambert murmured the words against Tommy’s skin.
“Inside me. I want your tongue inside me,” Tommy said, desire making him shameless. “Fuck me with your tongue.”
“Anything for you.”
On some level, Tommy recognized that he was the one moaning and whimpering shamelessly. That voice begging and demanding in turn was his. The hands clawing at the bedsheets were his, and so was the body writhing on the bed, thrusting back, chasing the indescribable sensation of Lord Lambert’s tongue fucking into him. On some level, he recognized all this, but it was hazy, distant, amorphous. Because at the moment, Tommy was pure sensation, pure feeling. His entire consciousness, his entire world had narrowed down to Lord Lambert’s hands digging into his skin and Lord Lambert’s tongue fucking him, hot, firm, wet, thrusting in and out of Tommy’s tight hole over and over again.
Tommy rotated his hips on the pillow beneath him, rubbing his aching cock against the soft velvet, moaning, moving ever closer to the edge. But just when he felt himself begin to fall over the precipice, it all stopped abruptly.
“No! Please. Don’t stop…don’t stop,” Tommy cried, but to no avail. Lord Lambert was already pulling away from him. Tommy turned over.
Lord Lambert was resting on his heels, palms flat on his thighs, watching Tommy with eyes so incredibly bright that it almost hurt to look directly at him. Before Tommy could form the words he wanted to, Lord Lambert moved forward and pushed away the pillow that had been beneath Tommy’s body. No. This couldn’t be over. Lord Lambert couldn’t leave him like this. Tommy wouldn’t survive it.
Tommy sat up and gripped the king’s tunic. “Please. I need more. Please.” He was too far gone to care or even notice that he was begging.
Lord Lambert leaned closer and kissed Tommy’s damp hair. “I wouldn’t leave you like this. I promise.”
The whispered words calmed Tommy’s jangled nerves for the moment.
“Lie back.” When Tommy obeyed, the king moved forward a little. “Spread your legs wider. Let me in.”
Tommy obeyed once again, lying flat on his back and spreading his legs. Lord Lambert slid down then, settling on his stomach between Tommy’s spread thighs, left hand splayed across Tommy’s abdomen and the other lightly skirting the soft thatch of curls above Tommy’s hard cock.
“Tell me, did I hurt you here?” Lord Lambert moved his right hand, wrapping his long fingers tightly around Tommy’s aching cock, moving even closer, until his lips were almost touching the leaking head.
What? Tommy frowned in confusion for a brief moment. Lord Lambert hadn’t hurt him there. Surely he knew that. Tommy pushed up on his elbows, about to say just that, when he looked down and caught the mischievous spark in the king’s eyes. A lovers’ game. Lord Lambert was playing with him. Tommy flushed with surprise and happiness. How had he ever thought he could survive without this, without this intimacy, this pleasure? Tommy couldn’t say for sure. But what he could say, what Tommy was certain of, was that no matter how difficult it became to hold on, he would. With every ounce of strength in his body.
The thought steadied him. Tommy stared directly into Lord Lambert’s eyes and curled his lips in a slow, sly smile.
“Yes,” he replied simply. Then he lay back, spread his legs even wider and waited.
* * *
Adam pushed up on his right elbow a little to take in the sight of Prince Thomas spread open beneath him, smooth, pale skin luminous in the lamplight. So beautiful. And so different from all the other men Adam had taken to bed before. Adam’s gaze travelled over the prince’s body, drinking in the long arch of his neck, the proud jut of his chin, and the lean grace of his shoulders and hips. Prince Thomas’s body was small, yes, delicate perhaps, but there was strength there. There was strength in the corded muscles rippling beneath his pale skin. There was strength in his strong, callused hands. There was strength in his dark brown eyes. He was beautiful. But Adam didn’t want to just look. He wanted too much and had waited too long to simply stare in awe.
This time, he didn’t bother with preliminaries. He didn’t coax and tease. This time, he simply took. Adam wrapped his lips around Prince Thomas’s cock, sliding down, willing himself to relax as he moved, until the hard flesh was hilt-deep inside his mouth and the swollen head was buried in his throat. Beneath him, Prince Thomas jerked partially off the bed, letting out a strangled cry when Adam swallowed around his cock, milking the desperate length with his throat.
Adam could feel every pulsing vein running along Prince Thomas’s cock, and he traced each one with his tongue until the man groaned harshly. Adam loved the weight of the hard cock in his mouth, loved the way it stretched his lips and spilled drops of bittersweet moisture onto his tongue. Adam pulled back until only the swollen head remained in his mouth. With his right hand, he squeezed the throbbing length, pressing his tongue into the leaking slit crowning the head of Prince Thomas’s cock and licking away the drops of pre-cum he found there. He heard the prince whimpering and begging for more, and he couldn’t help but preen a little at the thought that he was the one dragging those desperate, shameless sounds from the prince’s throat.
Adam sucked harder, pulling sharply, cheeks hollowing with his effort. He felt Prince Thomas’s hand reach for him, fingers sliding into his hair to drag him closer. Adam knew the prince’s heart must be pounding; he knew it because he could feel it in the frantic pulse racing along the throbbing length sliding in and out of his eager mouth. Prince Thomas was fucking him now, hips rising and falling in a hesitant rhythm, neck arched high on the bed as desperate little cries spilled from his lips.
Suddenly, the prince thrust up sharply, sinking his cock deep into Adam’s mouth and making him sputter for a moment in reaction to the unexpected movement.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….” Prince Thomas pushed up on his elbows, forehead creased with worry.
“It’s alright,” Adam replied. “Don’t hold back. You can fuck my mouth.”
Adam stared up, mesmerized for a moment as the prince’s eyes darkened even further with lust.
“My lord…”
“It’s alright. I want you to.”
Adam reached up with his left hand, pushing at Prince Thomas’s chest until he was lying flat on his back again. Then he took the glistening wet, rock-hard length deep into his mouth again and began to suck even harder than before. Prince Thomas would have to be made of stone to resist the sensation. And as it turned out, he wasn’t, because after a minute of the devastating treatment, he slid both his hands into Adam’s hair, grabbing fistfuls and dragging Adam down on his cock. The prince cried out repeatedly, loudly, wantonly, fucking his cock deep into Adam’s mouth over and over again, all hesitation gone, so far beyond all notions of resistance or decorum. He gripped Adam’s skull tightly, pulling hard on his hair and Adam let him, despite the pain it caused, giving the prince more, sucking even harder, feeding the prince’s lust and pushing him right to the edge.
After a few, intense minutes, Prince Thomas altered his movements, suddenly trying to push Adam away when before, he’d been trying to pull him closer.
“I can’t hold on. I have to…I’m going to…”
Adam resisted the hands tugging at his hair and pushed down hard, taking the entire length of Prince Thomas’s throbbing cock in his mouth and sucking impossibly hard, until the prince cried out and began to come. Adam swallowed around the bursts of wet heat spurting down his throat, then moved back a little, so that the last weak spurts landed on his tongue. He licked at the prince’s cock, sliding around the burning hot length for long minutes, licking up every last drop of the bittersweet moisture before letting it fall from his lips, glistening wet, spent, beautiful.
Slowly, Adam kissed a path up the prince’s torso and over his chest until he was straddling the prince, face a few inches from his. When the prince opened his eyes, Adam was struck speechless by the look he saw there. It was pure satisfaction, laced with wonderment. Slowly the prince raised his arm, reaching up and out to slide a trembling hand along Adam’s jaw as a dazed smile lit his face. The simple touch was nothing really, nothing at all, and yet for a brief, wild moment, Adam was convinced he could live the rest of his life on the strength of that one caress alone.
Stunned by his reaction, Adam pulled away quickly, coming to rest on his heels on the bed. Prince Thomas rose as well, drawing himself up to his knees before sliding closer and reaching for Adam’s engorged flesh. Adam reacted immediately, pushing Prince Thomas’s hands away and climbing off the bed. He couldn’t do that. He wasn’t ready for the prince to touch him yet. Adam was humbled by the gesture, by the unconditional trust in it, but he didn’t share Prince Thomas’s faith. He didn’t trust himself enough to give over completely. Adam didn’t want to hurt him again. He was willing to protect Tommy against all the world…including himself if need be.
Adam moved even further away from the bed, failing to recognize in his agitated state that for a brief moment, “Prince Thomas” had become “Tommy.”
“My lord?” Prince Thomas’s voice was raspy, rough and low from crying out repeatedly.
“I can’t,” Adam said simply, silently willing the prince to let the matter lie.
“But… I want to.” Adam watched the prince blush as the shy confession escaped his lips.
“I can’t,” Adam repeated, his voice pitching higher in desperation.
Prince Thomas climbed off the bed and took a few steps toward Adam. “Please. Let me touch you.”
“No, that’s not what this is about. It was all for you. Only for you.”
“But-”
“Please!”
Prince Thomas stared at him for a long moment, his eyes dark and stormy. Finally, he exhaled sharply and moved back to sit on the bed, grabbing his tunic off the floor and throwing it across his lap to cover his nakedness.
“Perhaps I should go?” he asked in a tone that told Adam that he was hoping to be asked to stay.
Adam ignored the silent request in his voice and simply nodded. From where he stood, he watched the prince get dressed, pulling on his clothes and strapping on his sandals slowly, deliberately prolonging the process, as if he was still holding out hope that Adam would ask him to stay. Adam wanted to. He was still hard, aching, tense with desire. He wanted the prince to stay. He wanted to lick him open again and slide deep into him. He wanted to take, but he couldn’t. Adam couldn’t hurt him again. So, even though he wanted, even though something in him was breaking a little to watch Prince Thomas go, Adam stood by silently as he walked to the entrance. Without warning, the prince paused there and turned, pinning Adam with an intense look.
“I want to tell you something,” he said. “I want to say it because that night was partly my doing. I want to have said it at least once. I wasn’t myself that night. I was mad with panic when I came here. I was out of control, but I want you to know that even so, even if you hadn’t woken up, even if you hadn’t stopped me, I wouldn’t have struck. I wouldn’t have killed you.”
Adam tried to breathe around the sharp, alien feeling squeezing his chest tight.
“I know.”
Adam watched the prince’s eyes widen with surprise.
“You do?”
“I’ve always known that,” Adam replied.
A small smile settled on Prince Thomas’s face. How it managed to be happy and sad at the same time, Adam would never know.
“Now you’re the one who has too much faith in me.”
“No, Prince Thomas. I have just enough.”
Some emotion flickered across the prince’s face, moving too fast for Adam to guess at what it was.
“Goodnight, my lord.” Prince Thomas tilted his head in an almost imperceptible bow and slipped out of the tent.
Adam fell to the floor and remained in the same spot for hours, staring in the direction Prince Thomas had gone. The man had made a liar out of him. There was weakness in this. Adam thought of the fierce urge to protect that had overtaken him when Prince Thomas made his confession. He thought of the unfamiliar sentiment that had come over him when the prince had reached out and touched him after his climax.
Adam ran a hand over his face roughly and sighed. Prince Thomas. He was Adam’s weakness.
Author: radiogaga33
Pairing: Adam/Tommy, Adam/Kris (friendship)
Setting: Fantasy AU
Rating: NC-17 (NC-17 overall)
Word Count: ~8500
Beta: sweet_poeia
Disclaimers: No claims to any copyrights, trademarks, or any other intellectual property. I do not own these characters. They belong to themselves. This is purely a work of fiction. It never happened.
Author’s Notes: Okay, so there's a lot happening in this chapter. It's pretty dense and it's the first one with POV jumping. Just hang on and if you're still breathing by the end, let's chat. P.s. My beta is seriously the most awesome person in the world. ILU bb!
Warnings: Pseudo-slavefic.
Summary: Adam is a conquering king hell-bent on revenge against the ruler who destroyed his life as a child. He ends up taking the ruler’s son, Tommy, as tribute after winning the war between the kingdoms. Events unfold.
The Laws of Ilyria
Chapter 11
“Prince Thomas?”
Tommy jerked away from the tree at the sound of Vice-Lord Allen’s voice behind him. He turned and stared at the High General coldly, clenching his hands tight in an effort to stem the suicidal urge to smash the duplicitous bastard’s face in. All this time, he’d been the king’s lover. Tommy felt like screaming again.
“Get away from me!”
“Prince Thomas, calm yourself.” Vice-lord Allen’s voice held a note of warning, but Tommy willfully ignored it.
“I said, get away from me. Leave me alone!”
“Mind your tongue, Prince Thomas. This is not Troianus, and you are not my lord.”
“I beg your pardon then,” Tommy said without the slightest trace of sincerity or contrition. “There. You have your apology. Go back to your lover.” Tommy spat out the last few words like they were poison.
“My lover?” Confusion creased Vice-lord Allen’s features for a brief moment. It irked Tommy to witness the falsity of it. Did the man take Tommy for a fool? He’d seen them with his own eyes.
“Lord Lambert is not my lover.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence. I saw you.”
Vice-lord Allen shot him a wide-eyed look of disbelief a split-second before he burst into laughter.
Tommy bristled at the sound. “I’ll thank you not to mock me, Vice-lord Allen.”
“And I’ll thank you not to play the fool. The king is not my lover.”
“I saw you together. I saw the way you were holding him, the way you were touching him.”
“And this bothers you?”
“Yes, it does!”
“Why?”
“Because-because he is mine!” Tommy stopped himself abruptly, shock shattering the haze of jealousy. What had he just said? When had he started to think of Lord Lambert as belonging to him? He was a slave now, a man who had no right to claim even his own self and yet, some audacious part of him had claimed the king as his own without Tommy’s knowledge. The thought sobered him and he grew quiet where he stood.
“Is that so?”
“Please, just leave me be. I’m alright. You can go back to your lover now.” Tommy’s voice was quieter now, defeat weakening his earlier fervor.
“Alright. Listen to me. I’m only going to say this once more. Lord Lambert is not my lover.”
“I saw-“
“You don’t know what you saw!” Vice-lord Allen snapped. When Tommy flinched a little at the sharpness in his voice, Vice-lord Allen took a few calming breaths. By the time he spoke again, his voice was softer.
“Prince Thomas, I know that you’re upset, but I need you to understand that you’ve misinterpreted what you saw just now in the king’s tent.
“I don’t see how.”
“Please, let me finish, Prince Thomas.”
Tommy shut his mouth and waited.
“I met Adam when we were ten years old. I’ve known him for two decades now, and I’ve loved him for just as long. Adam…hasn’t had the easiest life. King Eber’s death, Elysia’s demise at the hand of your father, Queen Leila’s death-it was one tragedy after another and it damaged something in him. Adam suffers terrible nightmares, and when we were young, I would hold him at night until he could fall asleep again. Adam and I have no secrets between us, and no false modesty either. It is our way, and I won’t apologize for it. I went to Adam tonight because he hasn’t slept in two nights. When you walked in, I was comforting him, nothing more. I did not kiss him. I did not make love with him. I never have and never will. He is my friend, not my lover. That is all.”
Tommy let out a shuddering breath as the tight knot in the pit of his stomach finally loosened.
“Forgive me, Vice-lord Allen.”
“There is nothing to forgive. It was an honest mistake.” Vice-lord Allen’s face relaxed into a wry smile. “But please, no more talk of this, otherwise I’ll have an awful lot to explain to Katy once we return to Elysia.”
“Katy?”
“Katherine, Vice-lady Allen. My wife.”
“Your wife?” Tommy said, dumbfounded.
“Yes. We’ll have been married for eleven years, come September.”
Suddenly Tommy felt incredibly stupid, and more than a little embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”
Vice-lord Allen laughed. “It’s nothing.”
“I can’t believe how terribly I misinterpreted what I saw. I’m mortified. Serves me right, I suppose, going where I wasn’t invited.” Tommy’s lips curled into a rueful smile.
“Why did you come to the king’s tent?”
Tommy looked away. “I…I wanted to tell him something. Something important.”
“Tell him what?”
Tommy hesitated.
“Prince Thomas, you can speak freely. I assure you, this conversation travels no further than here.”
Tommy turned back to face him. Steady brown eyes stared at him, waiting. Lord Lambert trusts him, Tommy thought. Perhaps Tommy could trust him too.
“You say that you and the king have no secrets between each other. If that’s true, then you already have some idea what I wanted to talk to him about.”
“Two nights ago. When you touched him. Is that it?”
“Yes,” Tommy replied.
“What happened?”
“You already know.”
“I’ve only heard one side of the story,” Vice-lord Allen replied. “I have yet to hear yours. Why did you touch him?”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“But why did you touch him in the first instance?”
Tommy ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “I don’t know!” he cried plaintively.
“Was it because you wanted him?”
Tommy felt like his skin was burning beneath the intensity of Vice-Lord Allen’s searching gaze. When Tommy remained silent, Vice-lord tried again.
“Do you want him?”
Tommy stared, lost and defenseless. Did he dare answer? Did he dare say the truth out loud?
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Even after what happened that night?”
Tommy blushed. “I know what it must have looked like to you. But the truth of the matter is, Lord Lambert didn’t really hurt me. I enjoyed what happened between us. I wanted it. I still want it.”
“So why hold back? Why not tell him precisely that?”
“Because I can’t!” Tommy cried. “Because to feel this way about the king-about any man- is weakness.”
“What?”
“My father says that it’s wrong to have to such feelings for another man. He says it’s a material failing, that it’s weakness.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard said. The laws of Ilyria say that women can marry women, and that men can marry men. Surely, you don’t mean to say that your father’s word is greater than the Oracle’s? That’s blasphemy.”
“But-”
“Listen to me, Thomas.”
Tommy’s eyes widened with surprise to hear the High General address him informally.
“May I call you Thomas?” Vice-lord Allen asked, drawing closer.
“Yes.”
“Listen, before, when I told you about my wife, there was something important I didn’t say.”
“What?”
“Katy used to be a worker-slave in my father’s house.”
Tommy gasped in surprise. Vice-lord Allen had married a slave?
“I know it isn’t done. I know it’s almost unheard of for a nobleman to marry a slave, but I did, because I loved her, because we fell in love with each other. I was only eighteen at the time, and my father threatened me. He swore to the high heavens that he would disown me and disinherit me if I insisted on marrying Katy. And so I let her go. Even though I’d never loved anyone or anything as much as I loved her, I let her go. Because my father said so. I suffered day and night for a year, denying myself, because my father said so. And then one day, I woke up and I swore I wouldn’t live that way anymore. So, I went out into the city and I found her and I married her right then and there. I promised her that we would make our own fortune. Do you know why I did that? Do you want to know why I defied my father?”
“Why did you do it?” Tommy asked.
“Because, eventually all parents die, and we are the ones who shall survive, to enjoy or to endure whatever life we’ve made for ourselves. Do you really want to spend the next year, the next decade, or the rest of whatever time you have left on this earth living a half life because your father said so?”
“No.”
Vice-lord Allen closed the distance between them and placed reassuring hands against Tommy’s trembling shoulders.
“Then do something about it. Go to Adam. Tell him how you feel. Tell him why you’ve been holding back-tell him everything. Do what Katy and I did. Make your own fortune, Thomas.”
“But what if I’m too late? What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”
Vice-lord Allen laughed softly. “Believe me, he wants you. If there’s anything you can be certain of, it’s that.”
Tommy swallowed hard as his mind shook with conflicting emotions. He wanted to believe what Vice-lord Allen had said, but that other part of him held strong to the past and his father’s cutting words.
“What if I can’t do this?”
Tommy felt Vice-lord Allen’s hands tighten on his shoulders. “Yes, you can. Fortune favors the brave.” Vice-lord Allen smiled. “And you don’t strike me as a coward.”
Tommy couldn’t help but smile a little to hear Vice-lord Allen praise him. “You honor me too much, Vice-lord Allen.”
“Kristopher.”
“What?”
“You can call me Kristopher.”
Tommy’s smile grew wider. He felt himself relax beneath the reassuring warmth and weight of Vice-lord Allen’s hands on his shoulders. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, and steadied himself with a deep breath. Suddenly, he understood what Lord Lambert saw in this man.
When Tommy opened his eyes again, he smiled and said, “In that case, you can call me Tommy.”
“Is that so? Well, alright then, Tommy.” Kristopher stepped back and dropped his arms. “So, will you go to him?”
Tommy’s smile faded. “I need some time. I need to think.”
“I understand.”
“Do you mind if I stay out here a little longer? Alone, I mean.”
“Of course not.” Kristopher peered off into the distance. “But please, don’t stay out here too long. Adam will have my head if something happens to you.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“No, we wouldn’t. I rather like my head.”
The two men burst into laughter at the same time. When they quieted, Kristopher turned back in the direction of the night camp.
“Kristopher!” Tommy called, before the other man walked away.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. I won’t forget this kindness.”
“It’s nothing.” Kristopher smiled. “Goodnight, Tommy.”
* * *
Adam was exhausted. He ran a hand over his face in a gesture of weariness and shifted on his bed once more. The caravan had made night camp less than an hour ago and Adam had retired to his tent immediately, nerves too strained for conversation or supervision. They could all do without his presence for one evening, and besides, Kristopher could manage the caravan every bit as well as Adam. So, he’d settled into bed, lying flat on his back and staring up into nothingness, listening to the muffled noises filtering in, and pretending he wasn’t trying to search out the sound of the hunting party returning to the caravan.
He groaned aloud in the low light of the tent. Adam hadn’t slept properly in the five nights since the scene with Prince Thomas outside his tent. And since the brief incident two nights ago, his sleeplessness had gotten worse. He’d barely been able to remain upright on his horse today, he’d been so tired. And Kristopher’s insistence on secrecy wasn’t helping. No matter how much Adam pleaded and cajoled and downright threatened, Kristopher refused to tell him what had passed between him and the prince.
“I made a promise,” Kristopher kept saying. Adam swore softly. The man and his damned principles.
“But I have to know what happened. What did he say to you? Why did he come to my tent?”
“You’ll discover your answer soon enough,” Kristopher kept replying in that frustratingly calm, clear voice of his, before changing the subject.
Sure, he could afford to be calm; he had time for patience when he wasn’t the one drowning in a flood of confusion and frustration and desire. Adam didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to make of the weeks of morning conversations, the prince’s intense, lingering looks at night, the way he had played with Adam and touched him five nights ago, or the way he had stormed off upon seeing him with Kristopher. He wants you. He wouldn’t do any of those things if he didn’t feel the same way you do.
Once again, Adam brushed off the voice in his head. He knew better than to entertain false hope. How could the prince want him after what Adam had done-what he still wanted to do? Adam wanted to kiss him. He wanted to slide his tongue into Prince Thomas’s mouth to see if he tasted as sweet and intoxicating as Adam remembered. He wanted to kiss every last inch of Prince Thomas’s body, to fuck him and fill him until the prince was weak from the pleasure, until he was addicted to it and the man who gave it to him. Adam wanted all that and about a dozen other things, and every time Prince Thomas was near, every time he smiled, every time he murmured some endearing thing, it took every ounce of strength Adam could muster not to reach out and take what he wanted.
The pounding of hooves in the distance made Adam’s muscles tighten suddenly where he lay. The hunting party was back, and Prince Thomas as well. Briefly, Adam considered dragging himself out of bed and stepping out of the tent so he could-what? Stare at the prince from a distance? Twist himself up in knots and stand speechless if he actually walked up to the prince and tried to talk to him about the night he’d stormed out or the night before, when Adam had panicked at the table and sent the prince away? It was useless. Just like the thought of lying with another man-a thought Adam had entertained and very nearly acted on more than once since that first disastrous night. Useless, because no one else would do. Adam wanted Prince Thomas. He wanted him, but he couldn’t have him. So he turned over in bed, pressed his face into the velvet covered pillow and heaved a heavy sigh of resignation. Yet another night to be spent, fantasizing, hoping against hope…drowning.
Two hours later, when he heard the sounds of someone entering his tent and the telltale clink of utensils and plates on a tray, Adam barely moved. By then he’d settled into that gray space between sleep and full consciousness and he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge the soldier with anything more than a grunt and a dispirited wave of his left arm. When the man left, Adam huddled deeper into bed, ignoring the food, as appetizing as it smelled, all thoughts focused on dark brown eyes, and a pair of long, slender fingers he longed to feel on his skin. He fell into the gray space once more, so deeply that at first he didn’t notice the sound of someone entering his tent again. But when the sound of sandals scraping across the floor covering finally broke through his consciousness, Adam groaned in response. It had been all of fifteen minutes. Why had the soldier returned so soon to collect the tray?
“You’ve returned too early,” Adam said with his head still pressed into the pillow. “Come back in an hour.”
“I could do that, my lord. But wouldn’t you rather I stayed?”
Adam’s eyes flew open. Prince Thomas.
He rose to his feet in a hurry, brushing his rumpled hair away from his face as he stood. Prince Thomas was standing near the entrance to the tent, hair wet and face scrubbed clean like he’d bathed only a short while ago.
“Why…why are you here?”
Prince Thomas shifted a little on his feet. “I wanted to talk to you.” He cast a sidelong glance at the food-laden tray on the table. “I didn’t mean to come so soon after Jonathan served you. I suppose I was over-eager. I’m sorry for interrupting.”
Adam moved closer and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “As you can see, you’ve interrupted nothing. I’ve yet to touch any of it.”
“Perhaps I should come back later.”
“No. Please stay. Have you eaten?”
“No, my lord.”
“Then you must stay. Take your evening meal with me.”
Prince Thomas frowned. “You want us to eat together?”
Together. Adam found he liked the sound of that word. “Yes, together.” When Prince Thomas’s frown showed no signs of fading, Adam continued, smiling a little. “There’s more than enough for two, if that’s what has you concerned.”
“But my lord, what you’re proposing, it isn’t done.”
“Yes, yes, I know. And like the last time you reminded me of that, I don’t care. I don’t care what is and isn’t done. Besides, we’re breaking no laws. In here, we can simply be two men sharing a meal. Can you do that?”
Adam watched some of the tension ease from the prince’s raised shoulders. “Yes, I can.”
“Excellent. Shall we?”
They sat down at the table, facing each other, and settled into a quiet meal. Adam did his best to keep up the shaky thread of conversation, telling the prince all about Batuur and the war Adam had waged four years prior. Adam did everything he could to ease the prince’s worry, to signal to the man that he was willing to wait as long as the prince needed to rally himself and tell Adam what he’d come to say.
At the end of the meal, Adam stepped out of the tent for a brief moment, just long enough to call a passing soldier to clear the tray from his tent. When the man was gone, Adam filled a copper bowl with rose water, tossed a swatch of cloth onto his shoulder and returned to the table. He set the bowl down in front of Prince Thomas and bid him wash his hands. After he did, Adam held out the cloth for him to dry his hands.
“My lord, I should be doing this for you, not the other way around,” Tommy protested.
Adam smiled. “Tell me something, prince, have you always been such a devotee to appearances?”
Prince Thomas wiped his hands and sat back in his chair. “Sometimes appearances are all a man has,” he replied solemnly.
Adam stared at him. There was more to that statement, Adam could tell. He washed and dried his own hands quickly and returned the bowl and cloth to the side table he’d gotten them from. Then he walked back to the table and sat down opposite the prince once again. As much as he dreaded what he might hear, it was time to talk.
“What you just said, what did you mean by it?” Adam asked.
The prince let out a heavy sigh. “It’s part of what I came here to talk to you about.”
Adam steadied himself with a deep breath. “Alright,” he said simply. It was all he could manage.
“I want to apologize for shouting and storming off the other night, when I saw you with Kristopher. Please forgive me.”
A note of surprise registered in Adam’s mind to hear the prince mention Kristopher by name. What manner of conversation had they gotten into out there while Adam stayed behind?
“There’s nothing to forgive. It was nothing,” Adam replied. “But why did you do it?”
“Because I misunderstood what I saw. When I walked in here, I thought that…that you were making love, that you two were lovers. I know better now, of course. Kristopher explained everything to me. But at the time, I only knew what I saw and I was angry.”
“Why were you angry?”
Prince Thomas shifted nervously in his seat. “Because I didn’t like the thought of him touching you. Because I don’t like the thought of anyone touching you.”
Adam felt his breath catch in his chest. He was on the edge of something. They were on the edge of something and for all his bravery, Adam was suddenly terrified of falling.
“Why?” he asked, voice little more than a whisper.
When Prince Thomas spoke, his voice was low, ragged, like the words were being dragged out of him.
“Because I want you for myself.”
Just like that, the ground shifted beneath his feet, and Adam was falling.
“How?” he asked, confused, agitated. “How can you want me after what I did to you?”
Prince Thomas’s eyes caught Adam’s again at that question. “That was forever ago. You and I, it’s…different between us now, isn’t it? Besides, I told you the truth about that night already. And I know now that you weren’t trying to hurt me. I know that it was about desire, not power or punishment. I know that if there had been nothing but pain, you would have stopped. You would have ended it.”
Adam was floored. How could the prince be so sure about something that Adam still refused to believe with absolute certainty?
“You have far too much faith in me, Prince Thomas.”
The prince’s eyes grew darker. “No, my lord. I have just enough.”
Adam was humbled by the certainty in the prince’s voice, the resolute tone with which he spoke.
“You want me?” The disbelief in Adam’s voice turned what should have been a declaration into a question.
“Yes,” Prince Thomas replied. “Even though I know that I shouldn’t, even though I know it’s wrong, still I want you.”
The sudden agitation in his voice made Adam start with surprise. He watched the prince drop his gaze, staring down at the table as he tightened and untightened his hands nervously. There was more to this, something deeper, something Adam couldn’t even guess at.
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s wrong to feel this way about you, about any man.”
Adam was stunned. “What?”
“Years ago, I wanted a man. A Batuuri slave who served in the palace. I dreamt about him at night, fantasized about him during the day. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything or anyone.”
Adam tried not to feel jealousy for a stranger. He failed.
“Did you call him to your bed?” he asked, his tone sharp despite his attempt to keep it neutral.
“No. Never. My father….”
Adam stiffened at the mention of Lord Ratliff.
“My father says that to do what we did together, to want what I want, is weakness. He says it’s shameful to feel the way that I feel towards other men. I’ve spent my life hiding from this, trying to be the son my father demanded. For years, I’ve managed to pretend, and I’ve congratulated myself for it. But with you, I can’t pretend. I don’t want to pretend. But this is weakness.”
Prince Thomas’s voice broke on those final words, and Adam felt something in him break a little as well. He stared at the prince. There was none of Prince Thomas’s playfulness now, none of his bravado. He looked so fragile…so infinitely breakable.
Yet another crime to lay at Lord Ratliff’s feet.
“Your father is wrong,” Adam began. “There is no weakness in this.”
“I want to believe that. I want to. But all I hear every waking moment is his voice in my head telling me that this is wrong!”
Prince Thomas rose to his feet abruptly, fists pressed against the table’s wooden surface. Adam got up as well. As he watched the prince shaking with the effort to rein in his emotions, Adam felt his chest tighten with a fierce surge of protectiveness.
“Don’t listen to that voice anymore. Listen to mine. When you hear it, think of my words. There is no weakness in this. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Adam paused for a moment. “This is my fault,” he muttered.
“What? How?” The prince’s startled brown eyes caught Adam’s.
“If I’d been careful with you, if I’d shown you how it can be, how good and right it can be, you wouldn’t still think of this the way you do. This is my fault.”
Adam thought of Kristopher’s words that night. “I would wager my life and all my fortune that the prince has never been touched-certainly not by another man. And you use him like one of the soldiers who lust after you? You use him like a common whore? Who are you? Who are you, Adam?! Do you even know?!”
He had made a mess of things. Adam knew now that he would protect Prince Thomas against all the world. But what if the only person he needs protecting from is me? Adam pushed away the thought. He could still make this right. It wasn’t too late.
Adam stepped around the table and stopped in front of Prince Thomas.
“My lord?”
“Let me show you. Let me show you how it can be. Let me make amends.”
Prince Thomas’s eyes widened. “How?” he whispered.
“Let me touch you.” Adam watched the prince stiffen with hesitation. “Let me. Please. Only pleasure, I swear. Please?”
Dark brown eyes stared at him, weighing his words, measuring him once again. And there was nothing Adam could do but stand still and wait.
* * *
Tommy tilted his head a little, compensating for the seven inch height difference between them, which was more pronounced now that Lord Lambert was standing so close. Close enough that Tommy could feel the warmth radiating off his body. He wanted to be part of that heat, to feel it wrapped around him. He wanted to touch and be touched. He wanted everything he’d never dared to want in his former life as a prince of Troianus.
“Fortune favors the brave,” Kristopher had said. Right now, Tommy was afraid. His gaze swept over Lord Lambert once again, taking in the earnestness and the genuine care written plainly across his face. But bravery isn’t the absence of fear, Tommy thought. Bravery is the will to overcome it. Bravery is the understanding that something else is more important that the fear. This was more important, this thing growing between them. This was more important that Tommy’s fear. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his years living a half life when he could have this-for however long it lasted-with Adam.
Caught in the middle of his careening thoughts, Tommy didn’t notice his slip. He didn’t notice that somehow, even if only temporarily, “Lord Lambert” had become “Adam” to him.
“Yes,” he said simply.
Lord Lambert let out a happy sound and reached out to wrap strong arms around Tommy’s waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. Tommy held still at first, surprised and hesitant, but eventually he relaxed against the king’s body, pressing his face against his broad chest and sliding his arms up to wrap loosely around Lord Lambert’s neck.
“You’re like magic,” Lord Lambert murmured reverently, his lips pressed against Tommy’s right ear.
The words of praise made Tommy flush with heat and happiness. So, this was what it felt like, to be with the man you want, and to know that he wanted you in return. Tommy felt his bravery growing stronger by the second. When the king pulled back and broke the embrace, Tommy almost groaned in disappointment.
“My lord?” Tommy began, silently willing the king to draw him close again.
Lord Lambert stared at him for a long moment, his blue eyes bright with emotion. “Tell me,” he said, reaching out to slide his thumb against the spot on Tommy’s lip where the wound he’d inflicted had been. “Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy didn’t want to dwell on things he’d already forgiven and very nearly forgotten. “What does that have to do with-”
“Just answer. Please. Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy sighed. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” That was all Lord Lambert said before leaning closer and kissing the spot he’d traced over with his thumb.
The king moved, pressing down on Tommy’s bottom lip with his thumb, sliding along the inner seam once Tommy gave in to the pressure and opened his mouth.
“Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy remembered the way Lord Lambert’s engorged flesh had stretched his lips wide, sliding deep into his mouth and sinking down his throat.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” Lord Lambert pulled his thumb away and pressed his lips to Tommy’s, kissing him gently, letting Tommy control how fast it went, and how deep it became. Tommy felt light-headed from the pleasure of feeling this again. He slid his tongue over the king’s, moaning into his mouth, reveling in the heat and sweetness of it. Too soon, Lord Lambert broke the kiss, pulling back to stare down at Tommy.
Once again, Lord Lambert moved, this time sliding his fingers along the smooth, pale skin of Tommy’s neck.
“Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy recalled the way the king had gripped him tightly as they lay in his bed. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lord Lambert slid his fingers into Tommy’s hair, pulling his head back a little. Then he bent his head to leave a trail of soft kisses along Tommy’s exposed skin. When Tommy gasped and raised his hands to grip fistfuls of Lord Lambert’s burgundy tunic, the kisses grew rougher, became little bites, sharp teeth sinking into his skin before soft lips sucked away the brief pain, tongue sliding gently but firmly. Tommy arched his neck some more, offering the king everything, inviting him to take more. This time, Tommy couldn’t help it. He groaned in disappointment when Lord Lambert pulled away.
Tommy felt warm hands slide up his arms, coming to rest on the fists clenched around burgundy fabric. Gently, Lord Lambert pulled his hands away and turned them so that the inside of Tommy’s wrists faced outward. Thumbs swept across both his wrists in a soft caress, and Tommy couldn’t help the slight shudder that ran through him at the simple motion.
“Did I hurt you here?”
Tommy thought of the way Lord Lambert had held him tightly at the end, they way he’d pressed his wrists down against the bed as he took Tommy with hard, deep thrusts.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” Lord Lambert raised Tommy’s hands to his mouth, pressing kisses on both his wrists. Tommy’s hands curled in the king’s steady grip, and it was everything Tommy could do to resist reaching out and pulling him down for another long, soulful kiss.
“Come with me.”
Tommy’s eyes caught the king’s. He wasn’t sure what Lord Lambert meant, but it didn’t matter. In this moment, Tommy would follow him anywhere.
“Yes,” Tommy replied simply.
He let himself be led by Lord Lambert’s hand clasped tightly around his left wrist. When they stopped beside the king’s bed, Tommy suddenly understood. Lord Lambert let go of his hand and reached for the fabric belt wrapped tightly around Tommy’s waist.
“May I?”
Unexpectedly the fear that had slowly ebbed over the past few minutes returned. This is weakness, that old, familiar voice cried sharply. No. Tommy pushed away the insidious voice in his head. No. He focused on Lord Lambert’s words instead. Lord Lambert had said there was no weakness in this, that there was nothing to be ashamed of. It was alright to want this. And Tommy wanted, so much so that he could barely breathe around the all-encompassing desire.
“May I?” Lord Lambert repeated.
Tommy took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Slowly, as if he was giving Tommy every opportunity to change his mind, Lord Lambert untied his belt and let it drop to the floor. Then-moving even slower, if possible-he curled his fingers around the hem of Tommy’s blue tunic and pulled it over his head. The broadcloth joined the belt on the floor. Tommy trembled a little at the feeling of being nearly naked in front of the king.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper, so low and uncertain that it made Tommy himself pause. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes.” There. This time he sounded forceful, resolute.
Lord Lambert nodded and reached for the drawstring holding Tommy’s undergarment closed. With a deft move, the king untied the complicated knot and watched as the fabric fell to puddle around Tommy’s feet. Then he dropped to his knees in front of Tommy, waiting until he’d stepped out of the circle of fabric before telling Tommy to rest his hands on his shoulders. Tommy obeyed, trembling a little, doing his best to ignore the fact of his nakedness and how he could feel the king’s breath, warm and devastating along the hard length of his cock.
As if he didn’t notice Tommy’s state of arousal, the king concentrated completely on unstrapping Tommy’s sandals and removing first one, then the other. When he was done, Lord Lambert stood up and climbed onto the bed, holding out his hand to Tommy. With the long black hair rumpled and falling around his face, the burgundy tunic framing his body to perfection, and the long, muscular length of his bare legs, the king looked like something out of a dream. He was the personification of everything Tommy had ever wanted and everything Tommy hadn’t even known he wanted until now. He would not let this pass. Tommy reached out and took the king’s hand.
Lord Lambert pulled him into the bed gently and pressed Tommy down onto his back. Then quietly, softly, the king began to make love to him. It was the only way Tommy could describe it. It was the only way he could describe the way the king kissed him slow and deep , the way he trailed kisses down the length of Tommy’s body and then up again. It was the only way he could describe how reverently Lord Lambert’s strong hands moved across his skin, like Tommy was some precious thing he had unexpectedly discovered.
When he felt those hands pulling at him, urging him to turn over in the bed, Tommy moved without thinking, settling onto his stomach and moaning softly as more kisses were pressed to his sensitive skin. But when he felt the king’s lips moving over the smooth globes of his ass, Tommy’s scattered thoughts coalesced rapidly, and his muscles grew rigid with renewed tension.
“Tell me,” Lord Lambert began. The whispered words over Tommy’s skin might as well have been firebrands. “Did I hurt you here?” He spread Tommy’s legs wider and ran a finger down the crease of his ass, letting the tip of his finger push at the ring of muscle guarding Tommy’s hole.
Tommy blushed hotly and gripped the bedsheets on either side of his head. Inside him, embarrassment warred with desire. Wantonness warred with propriety. They both knew what the answer was to that question. And now, after the preamble that had gone before, they both knew what would happen when Tommy gave Lord Lambert the answer. The king would kiss him there. Tommy didn’t want that, did he? He couldn’t do that, could he? He-
“Yes.” The word slipped from Tommy’s lips unbidden.
“I’m sorry.”
Tommy held his breath as Lord Lambert lifted his hips a little, just high enough to slip a pillow beneath them, leaving his ass raised in the air. He held it still as the king shifted behind him, spreading Tommy’s legs even wider and settling between them. Tommy felt the heat of Lord Lambert’s breath on his skin and the anticipation of what was coming very nearly drove him insane. And then he felt it, the first touch of Lord Lambert’s lips, an openmouthed kiss pressed against Tommy’s tight hole. Tommy exhaled sharply, the sound ending with a strangled moan when the kiss was followed with a long, slow lick up the crease of his ass. It felt…alien, disconcerting…earth-shattering. It was something he’d never thought to want and yet, now that he’d felt it, Tommy was hell-bent on riding the sensation through to the end.
Tommy gripped the bedsheets tighter, flushing with desire and embarrassment, squeezing his eyes shut and doing his best not to whimper shamelessly from the dizzying sensation of the king’s tongue licking at him. Behind him, Lord Lambert kept moving, licking and sucking at Tommy’s hole, swirling his tongue in devastating little circles, rimming the tight ring of muscle, and all the while gripping Tommy’s ass tight, holding him open. Tommy pushed back a little, unable finally to keep from whimpering when the king began to press at his hole, pushing the tip of his tongue past the outer ring before sliding back out again. More. Tommy wanted-no, needed-more. He pushed back more insistently, chasing after the overwhelming sensation. But the king refused him; instead he continued to slide just the tip of his tongue in and out of Tommy’s hole, teasing, driving Tommy mad with the need for more.
“Please,” Tommy whispered.
“Please what? You have to tell me. Please what?” Lord Lambert murmured the words against Tommy’s skin.
“Inside me. I want your tongue inside me,” Tommy said, desire making him shameless. “Fuck me with your tongue.”
“Anything for you.”
On some level, Tommy recognized that he was the one moaning and whimpering shamelessly. That voice begging and demanding in turn was his. The hands clawing at the bedsheets were his, and so was the body writhing on the bed, thrusting back, chasing the indescribable sensation of Lord Lambert’s tongue fucking into him. On some level, he recognized all this, but it was hazy, distant, amorphous. Because at the moment, Tommy was pure sensation, pure feeling. His entire consciousness, his entire world had narrowed down to Lord Lambert’s hands digging into his skin and Lord Lambert’s tongue fucking him, hot, firm, wet, thrusting in and out of Tommy’s tight hole over and over again.
Tommy rotated his hips on the pillow beneath him, rubbing his aching cock against the soft velvet, moaning, moving ever closer to the edge. But just when he felt himself begin to fall over the precipice, it all stopped abruptly.
“No! Please. Don’t stop…don’t stop,” Tommy cried, but to no avail. Lord Lambert was already pulling away from him. Tommy turned over.
Lord Lambert was resting on his heels, palms flat on his thighs, watching Tommy with eyes so incredibly bright that it almost hurt to look directly at him. Before Tommy could form the words he wanted to, Lord Lambert moved forward and pushed away the pillow that had been beneath Tommy’s body. No. This couldn’t be over. Lord Lambert couldn’t leave him like this. Tommy wouldn’t survive it.
Tommy sat up and gripped the king’s tunic. “Please. I need more. Please.” He was too far gone to care or even notice that he was begging.
Lord Lambert leaned closer and kissed Tommy’s damp hair. “I wouldn’t leave you like this. I promise.”
The whispered words calmed Tommy’s jangled nerves for the moment.
“Lie back.” When Tommy obeyed, the king moved forward a little. “Spread your legs wider. Let me in.”
Tommy obeyed once again, lying flat on his back and spreading his legs. Lord Lambert slid down then, settling on his stomach between Tommy’s spread thighs, left hand splayed across Tommy’s abdomen and the other lightly skirting the soft thatch of curls above Tommy’s hard cock.
“Tell me, did I hurt you here?” Lord Lambert moved his right hand, wrapping his long fingers tightly around Tommy’s aching cock, moving even closer, until his lips were almost touching the leaking head.
What? Tommy frowned in confusion for a brief moment. Lord Lambert hadn’t hurt him there. Surely he knew that. Tommy pushed up on his elbows, about to say just that, when he looked down and caught the mischievous spark in the king’s eyes. A lovers’ game. Lord Lambert was playing with him. Tommy flushed with surprise and happiness. How had he ever thought he could survive without this, without this intimacy, this pleasure? Tommy couldn’t say for sure. But what he could say, what Tommy was certain of, was that no matter how difficult it became to hold on, he would. With every ounce of strength in his body.
The thought steadied him. Tommy stared directly into Lord Lambert’s eyes and curled his lips in a slow, sly smile.
“Yes,” he replied simply. Then he lay back, spread his legs even wider and waited.
* * *
Adam pushed up on his right elbow a little to take in the sight of Prince Thomas spread open beneath him, smooth, pale skin luminous in the lamplight. So beautiful. And so different from all the other men Adam had taken to bed before. Adam’s gaze travelled over the prince’s body, drinking in the long arch of his neck, the proud jut of his chin, and the lean grace of his shoulders and hips. Prince Thomas’s body was small, yes, delicate perhaps, but there was strength there. There was strength in the corded muscles rippling beneath his pale skin. There was strength in his strong, callused hands. There was strength in his dark brown eyes. He was beautiful. But Adam didn’t want to just look. He wanted too much and had waited too long to simply stare in awe.
This time, he didn’t bother with preliminaries. He didn’t coax and tease. This time, he simply took. Adam wrapped his lips around Prince Thomas’s cock, sliding down, willing himself to relax as he moved, until the hard flesh was hilt-deep inside his mouth and the swollen head was buried in his throat. Beneath him, Prince Thomas jerked partially off the bed, letting out a strangled cry when Adam swallowed around his cock, milking the desperate length with his throat.
Adam could feel every pulsing vein running along Prince Thomas’s cock, and he traced each one with his tongue until the man groaned harshly. Adam loved the weight of the hard cock in his mouth, loved the way it stretched his lips and spilled drops of bittersweet moisture onto his tongue. Adam pulled back until only the swollen head remained in his mouth. With his right hand, he squeezed the throbbing length, pressing his tongue into the leaking slit crowning the head of Prince Thomas’s cock and licking away the drops of pre-cum he found there. He heard the prince whimpering and begging for more, and he couldn’t help but preen a little at the thought that he was the one dragging those desperate, shameless sounds from the prince’s throat.
Adam sucked harder, pulling sharply, cheeks hollowing with his effort. He felt Prince Thomas’s hand reach for him, fingers sliding into his hair to drag him closer. Adam knew the prince’s heart must be pounding; he knew it because he could feel it in the frantic pulse racing along the throbbing length sliding in and out of his eager mouth. Prince Thomas was fucking him now, hips rising and falling in a hesitant rhythm, neck arched high on the bed as desperate little cries spilled from his lips.
Suddenly, the prince thrust up sharply, sinking his cock deep into Adam’s mouth and making him sputter for a moment in reaction to the unexpected movement.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….” Prince Thomas pushed up on his elbows, forehead creased with worry.
“It’s alright,” Adam replied. “Don’t hold back. You can fuck my mouth.”
Adam stared up, mesmerized for a moment as the prince’s eyes darkened even further with lust.
“My lord…”
“It’s alright. I want you to.”
Adam reached up with his left hand, pushing at Prince Thomas’s chest until he was lying flat on his back again. Then he took the glistening wet, rock-hard length deep into his mouth again and began to suck even harder than before. Prince Thomas would have to be made of stone to resist the sensation. And as it turned out, he wasn’t, because after a minute of the devastating treatment, he slid both his hands into Adam’s hair, grabbing fistfuls and dragging Adam down on his cock. The prince cried out repeatedly, loudly, wantonly, fucking his cock deep into Adam’s mouth over and over again, all hesitation gone, so far beyond all notions of resistance or decorum. He gripped Adam’s skull tightly, pulling hard on his hair and Adam let him, despite the pain it caused, giving the prince more, sucking even harder, feeding the prince’s lust and pushing him right to the edge.
After a few, intense minutes, Prince Thomas altered his movements, suddenly trying to push Adam away when before, he’d been trying to pull him closer.
“I can’t hold on. I have to…I’m going to…”
Adam resisted the hands tugging at his hair and pushed down hard, taking the entire length of Prince Thomas’s throbbing cock in his mouth and sucking impossibly hard, until the prince cried out and began to come. Adam swallowed around the bursts of wet heat spurting down his throat, then moved back a little, so that the last weak spurts landed on his tongue. He licked at the prince’s cock, sliding around the burning hot length for long minutes, licking up every last drop of the bittersweet moisture before letting it fall from his lips, glistening wet, spent, beautiful.
Slowly, Adam kissed a path up the prince’s torso and over his chest until he was straddling the prince, face a few inches from his. When the prince opened his eyes, Adam was struck speechless by the look he saw there. It was pure satisfaction, laced with wonderment. Slowly the prince raised his arm, reaching up and out to slide a trembling hand along Adam’s jaw as a dazed smile lit his face. The simple touch was nothing really, nothing at all, and yet for a brief, wild moment, Adam was convinced he could live the rest of his life on the strength of that one caress alone.
Stunned by his reaction, Adam pulled away quickly, coming to rest on his heels on the bed. Prince Thomas rose as well, drawing himself up to his knees before sliding closer and reaching for Adam’s engorged flesh. Adam reacted immediately, pushing Prince Thomas’s hands away and climbing off the bed. He couldn’t do that. He wasn’t ready for the prince to touch him yet. Adam was humbled by the gesture, by the unconditional trust in it, but he didn’t share Prince Thomas’s faith. He didn’t trust himself enough to give over completely. Adam didn’t want to hurt him again. He was willing to protect Tommy against all the world…including himself if need be.
Adam moved even further away from the bed, failing to recognize in his agitated state that for a brief moment, “Prince Thomas” had become “Tommy.”
“My lord?” Prince Thomas’s voice was raspy, rough and low from crying out repeatedly.
“I can’t,” Adam said simply, silently willing the prince to let the matter lie.
“But… I want to.” Adam watched the prince blush as the shy confession escaped his lips.
“I can’t,” Adam repeated, his voice pitching higher in desperation.
Prince Thomas climbed off the bed and took a few steps toward Adam. “Please. Let me touch you.”
“No, that’s not what this is about. It was all for you. Only for you.”
“But-”
“Please!”
Prince Thomas stared at him for a long moment, his eyes dark and stormy. Finally, he exhaled sharply and moved back to sit on the bed, grabbing his tunic off the floor and throwing it across his lap to cover his nakedness.
“Perhaps I should go?” he asked in a tone that told Adam that he was hoping to be asked to stay.
Adam ignored the silent request in his voice and simply nodded. From where he stood, he watched the prince get dressed, pulling on his clothes and strapping on his sandals slowly, deliberately prolonging the process, as if he was still holding out hope that Adam would ask him to stay. Adam wanted to. He was still hard, aching, tense with desire. He wanted the prince to stay. He wanted to lick him open again and slide deep into him. He wanted to take, but he couldn’t. Adam couldn’t hurt him again. So, even though he wanted, even though something in him was breaking a little to watch Prince Thomas go, Adam stood by silently as he walked to the entrance. Without warning, the prince paused there and turned, pinning Adam with an intense look.
“I want to tell you something,” he said. “I want to say it because that night was partly my doing. I want to have said it at least once. I wasn’t myself that night. I was mad with panic when I came here. I was out of control, but I want you to know that even so, even if you hadn’t woken up, even if you hadn’t stopped me, I wouldn’t have struck. I wouldn’t have killed you.”
Adam tried to breathe around the sharp, alien feeling squeezing his chest tight.
“I know.”
Adam watched the prince’s eyes widen with surprise.
“You do?”
“I’ve always known that,” Adam replied.
A small smile settled on Prince Thomas’s face. How it managed to be happy and sad at the same time, Adam would never know.
“Now you’re the one who has too much faith in me.”
“No, Prince Thomas. I have just enough.”
Some emotion flickered across the prince’s face, moving too fast for Adam to guess at what it was.
“Goodnight, my lord.” Prince Thomas tilted his head in an almost imperceptible bow and slipped out of the tent.
Adam fell to the floor and remained in the same spot for hours, staring in the direction Prince Thomas had gone. The man had made a liar out of him. There was weakness in this. Adam thought of the fierce urge to protect that had overtaken him when Prince Thomas made his confession. He thought of the unfamiliar sentiment that had come over him when the prince had reached out and touched him after his climax.
Adam ran a hand over his face roughly and sighed. Prince Thomas. He was Adam’s weakness.