Kite snorted as he chewed. “Is that what you think of me?”
“No, I—no. I only meant—”
Kite rumbled. “One would think you’d have learned to take a compliment. You surely get them often enough.”
Elarhe sighed, defeated. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Kite shoveled food into his mouth. He didn’t eat like an aristocrat. He ate like a hungry farm boy.
Elarhe watched him with a small grin. He liked watching a hungry man eat. There was nothing overly delicate about Kite. He was manly, powerful. The way the muscles of his square jaw flexed made Elarhe harden.
Kite looked up at Elarhe slowly, with predatory eyes, as if he could smell Elarhe’s erection. Elarhe gave him a smoldering look. He stroked the lip of his empty cider mug, feeling heady and just a little dangerous.
Kite wiped his mouth and pushed his plate aside. He bolted up from the table, grabbed Elarhe up from his chair, and claimed his mouth with hard, merciless lips. Mole cleared her throat behind them. “I’m going off to bed.” She set a green crock on the table. “Olive oil, m’lord.” With a tiny giggle, she scurried out of the room through the back way.
Kite pulled off of Elarhe’s mouth to raise a brow at the crock. “Olive oil….”
“Olive oil.” Elarhe felt breathless. He caressed Kite’s temple and smiled coyly. “Whatever shall we do with that?”
Kite, holding him, wedged a fist between his ass cheeks. “I haven’t the slightest.”
Elarhe withdrew from him, laughing nervously. “You don’t have hands, Kite. You have meat hooks. There’s no way you’re getting near my ass with those things.”
“You seemed to enjoy my fingers.” Kite yanked him close, grinning ear to ear.
“Your fingers, not your fist.”
Kite looked crestfallen. “I thought you liked me.” He whispered, suddenly, strangely self-conscious.
“I do.” Elarhe felt a surge of protectiveness for him. He gripped Kite tight. “I want to fist you.”
Kite pulled back. He held Elarhe’s face with both hands and searched Elarhe’s eyes. “You don’t want me to just ravish you?”
Elarhe didn’t understand. “Of course, I want you to ravish me. Then I’ll fist you silly. Then maybe we could do a bit more ravishing, eh?”
Kite’s lightly calloused thumb slid beneath Elarhe’s lower lip, catching it gently. Kite stared at him with eyes like a tempest-tossed ocean. His face was so serious. There was something dark in his gaze, something pained and lost and deep. Something Elarhe couldn’t fathom, but wanted—badly wanted—to know and heal.
Elarhe slipped his arms around Kite’s neck and bent him down to kiss his lips. He stroked Kite’s lips apart with his tongue and invaded his mouth with the delicacy of a thief slipping into a house at night. He ran his fingers through the close-cropped, silken hairs at Kite’s nape. He touched him with reverence and gentleness.
Kite sucked his tongue with needy pressure and pressed his hard cock against Elarhe. Elarhe’s cock fought against the confines of his trousers. He caught a breath as Kite lifted him off his feet and set him on the rustic table.
Elarhe laughed and locked his ankles behind the taller man. He made a chain of tiny kisses down Kite’s chest as he unlaced his shirt.
Kite pulled Elarhe’s trousers off. He knelt and sucked Elarhe’s cock while Elarhe rubbed his neck and shoulders. After slipping off the rest of their clothes with little kisses and bites, they moved from the table to the floor. Kite lay on his back while Elarhe nipped his hipbones and toyed with his cock. He returned Kite’s earlier teasing, sucking him to the point of coming, then leaving him to kiss his knees with a wicked nonchalance.
When Kite’s hand rose to his own cock, Elarhe batted his hand away. “Sit on your hands,” he ordered. Kite looked up to raise an eyebrow at him, but he lifted his butt off the ground and placed his hand beneath it. Elarhe rewarded his good behavior by attending, once again, to Kite’s huge cock.
Elarhe’s cock was long and of a substantial size, but Kite’s cock was a monstrous thing. It was a meaty, veiny beast with a stout, formidable glans. Elarhe’s own glans was delicate in comparison, perfectly shaped, the kind of thing an artist might sculpt. Kite’s looked like an instrument of battle, like it could smash through drawbridges and stone walls.
It stood straight up as Elarhe provoked it. He swirled his tongue all around the weeping glans, then left it again, suddenly finding Kite’s ankles too delicious to ignore. Kite’s cock, turning purple with need, bobbed like a cobra preparing to strike. Elarhe sucked it until Kite seemed on the verge of cumming, then abandoned it again a few more times.
Kite’s balls took on a dark hue. He groaned in pain and reflexively drew his legs up to his stomach. Elarhe pulled them back down. He leaned down and licked Kite’s hole. He gave it a few cursory swipes, then lubed his cock with Kite’s precum and drove inside him. Kite’s ass lifted off the ground. A strangled sound erupted from his lips.
Elarhe fucked him harshly, watching his face. He gave Kite’s painful balls a little tap. Kite’s washboard stomach sucked in deep and he grimaced with pain. Spurred on, Elarhe pumped faster. Kite’s tight, heaving hole felt so good. He spewed cum deep in Kite’s hole, hoping Kite felt it.
Apparently, he did. He looked up at Elarhe in blue-balled, purple-cocked dismay. “What about me?”
“You’ll get there.”
Elarhe left him to fetch the olive oil. Kite groaned and swayed from side to side with his knees in the air. Elarhe smeared the slippery, strong smelling olive oil all over Kite’s rim. He coated his hand with it, rubbing it to his wrist, then up to his elbow.
“You’re elbow, Squirrel? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Elarhe answered with three lubricated fingers. He slid into Kite’s hole as if he were storming a fortress. Kite breathed heavily, his chest heaving, his stomach working in unison to move the air through him.
Elarhe withdrew and added two more fingers. Kite bucked and made a rather pathetic little noise. Elarhe located his prostate and massaged it liberally. Kite moaned, this time with pleasure. He breathed what he thought was Elarhe’s name. “Oh, Squirrel…Squirrel…oh….”
Elarhe slipped in deeper. When he came to a more open space, he drew his fingers into a fist. He sank deeper into the open space. While the entrance of Kite’s hole had been feverish and hot, this space was cave-like and cool. He bumped against what felt like a fleshy wall. Kite thrashed his head to the side and moaned.
Elarhe wrapped his lips around Kite’s cock. His fist thudded against the wall. Kite puffed his cheeks. Elarhe replaced his mouth with his other hand to get better traction. He pulled on Kite’s cock and punched his hole as if he were trying to beat down the wall.
Kite’s ass writhed. He made inhuman sounds. Cum shot from his cock like a fountain. Elarhe gushed at the same time.
Breathless, Elarhe carefully unfolded his hand and slid it out of Kite’s hole. Kite turned over, curling into a fetal position. Little scratches in the wooden floor showed where his hands had been, tucked under his ass.
For the first time, Elarhe noticed the cold floor beneath them and the chill of the room. The fire had almost died out. He laid Kite’s clothes atop him and pulled on his own shirt and trousers. Kite remained huddled on the floor.
Elarhe knelt next to him. Kite’s skin was slick with sweat. Elarhe combed his fingers through Kite’s wet hair. He hugged Kite gently.
The big man heaved a little sob and gave Elarhe a tight squeeze. Elarhe kissed his forehead and hugged him closer. “Are you all right?”
Kite didn’t answer for a few minutes. “Help me with my clothes?” he said in a low voice.
Elarhe nodded and eased Kite into his billowy shirt and soft trousers. He kissed Kite’s pale skin as he went and massaged the multitude of bulging muscles. Finally, dressed, Kite kissed Elarhe’s lips. He cradled Elarhe’s face between his hands and entered his mouth with a slow, low-burning passion.<
br />
***
They held hands as they ascended the stairs. Elarhe felt drunk with love. It had been such a magical evening. He kissed Kite’s throat as Kite pressed him against the door and opened it. His room, he realized as Kite’s brawny arms tensed around him. Kite lifted him up and set him on the bed. Kite kissed him softly, then retreated toward the door.
Elarhe sat up with a huff. “Surely you jest.”
“I can’t sleep with you.”
“I was just inside you up to my elbow. It won’t bother me if you drool on your pillow.”
Kite’s temper flashed like lightening. “I can’t sleep with you!”
Elarhe stared at him, speechless. Was this the same man he had just made love to all evening? “Fine. Then don’t.”
Kite hesitated in the doorway. Something about his posture reminded Elarhe of a little boy suddenly. Kite ran a hand over his head. “I— It—goodnight.”
“Same to you.” Elarhe bit his lip after the door closed. Another night alone. What was wrong with Kite? Why couldn’t they sleep in the same bed?
Despite his frustrating thoughts, the cider and hard fucking weighed down his eyelids. He soon drifted into a deep sleep.
***
The toe of a boot caught Elarhe beneath the eye. He felt his cheekbone crunch. A blow to his ribs sent pain careening through his body. He felt the snap of bone. He screamed.
Chapter 9
“Squirrel!”
Elarhe shoved himself away from the body pressing against him. He screamed again, trying to get away from the arms swinging around him.
“Squirrel! You’re all right! You were dreaming! It was just a dream, Squirrel.”
Elarhe gasped against Kite’s chest. His face was wet. “I’m bleeding!”
Kite kissed his forehead and left him for an instant to light a candle with what remained of the fire. He returned to the bed and examined Elarhe carefully. He swept a finger beneath one of Elarhe’s eyes. “Only tears,” he whispered. He stroked Elarhe’s bent knee. “You were dreaming of the attack?”
Elarhe shivered. He licked his lips. “Yes.” He drew a short breath. “How do I know this is real? During the attack, I dreamed I was away in a house with Squid. I woke up beneath the boots. How do I know that isn’t happening now? How do I know I’m not being stomped to death?” He squeezed his head between his hands. “I can’t tell if I’m awake or dying. I can’t tell what’s real.”
Kite put his arms around him and dragged him to his chest. It was the warmest hug Elarhe had ever felt. The closeness, the tenderness, eased the tension from his muscles. He sighed and relaxed against the mysterious man. After a long while, Kite said softly, “I know how that feels. Sometimes, I dream about my life before my power manifested, and I run through the meadows in the sunlight. My childhood was far from perfect, but in my dreams it’s full of golden light and soft grass, nothing but bliss and promise.” He paused and drew a heavy breath. “But then I wake, and I’m me. I’m here and everything is ruined. I keep hoping I’m just the boy’s nightmare.”
His hands over Elarhe’s body were firm and gentle. Elarhe bit his lips together and enjoyed his touch. He wanted to ask questions—he always wanted to ask questions—but was afraid Kite would stop touching him. He couldn’t spoil the moment. He pressed his face against Kite’s shoulder and breathed.
Kite stroked Elarhe’s hair away from his face. “It’s still a ways ‘til daybreak. You should go back to sleep.”
A deep shudder ran through Elarhe’s body before he could speak. Kite made a soft, mournful sound and lay down, taking Elarhe, cradled in his arms, with him. “I’ll hold you for a while,” Kite whispered into his hair. “I’ll stay awake and hold you until you can sleep again.”
Elarhe sighed gratefully and squirmed closer to Kite’s body, wishing he could crawl inside the man’s skin. Kite pressed his lips to Elarhe’s forehead. “Dream sweet dreams, Squirrel.” His chest heaved against Elarhe’s. “Dream about starlight and sailing ships and puppies.”
“I prefer cats,” Elarhe muttered against Kite’s chest.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmph.” He twisted a lock of Elarhe’s hair around his finger. “We all have our flaws, I suppose.”
Elarhe snickered and pulled away. Kite tugged him back and brushed a kiss across his lips.
***
The next morning
Elarhe woke up alone. He didn’t know when Kite left him, but the bed around him was cold. He lay awake, wondering, only rising when Goose rapped on the door to change his linens and ready his bath.
Mole arrived with his breakfast, and the day began much as the previous one had. Goose reacted with horror when he began helping her carry pails of water up the stairs to fill the tub, but she allowed it once he showed her he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had always had a stubborn streak, and he was no longer a prince. He would not have some woman heaving pails of water by herself for his bath.
He dressed, again, in Kite’s clothes. He stood with his arms and legs spread while Goose pinned up the sleeves and trousers. “I’m going outside for a walk,” he told Goose once she had finished.
She looked flustered. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m going, all the same.”
For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, her forehead creased and her eyes searched his fretfully. “Lord Kite wants you to stay close. He will be terribly angry if you leave.”
“I’m not his pet.” He turned from her and started for the door.
“No,” she said, following on his heels. “But you’re an immigrant. And here illegally. You’re not supposed to be in Grandimanderia.”
He paused to face her. He didn’t know what to say. The way she had said it—was she threatening him?
“The Overfather is indebted to Lord Kite. This castle is a city unto itself and the lord rules it. Here, and here alone, my lord can keep you safe. If you venture beyond these grounds, your life is at risk.”
“You make this sound more like a prison than a sanctuary.”
“This is the first time I’ve seen him have a care for someone other than himself. He has made it plain that he wants to protect you.”
He looked into her imploring eyes with mixed emotions. He hadn’t left his kingdom to hide in some dusty castle. “I’ll stay on the grounds today, but he can’t keep me here forever. At some point, I must fulfill my destiny.” With that he, bid her good day, and left her wringing her hands on the stairwell.
***
Elarhe found on the grounds a stable housing several fine horses. He selected a sleek, red chestnut mare with fine legs and a star in the center of her wedge-shaped head and brought her out for some exercise. He admired her gates as she pranced and cantered around him on a lounge line. He had to saddle her and experience them for himself.
Deciding that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, he helped himself to the saddle of his choice and outfitted the mare. Although some thought men were supposed to ride stallions, Elarhe preferred a good mare. They could be just as lively as a stallion, without wanting to bite or hump everything. He had kept a fiery dappled gray stallion among his own horses, but his favorite mount had been a golden mare who danced when she walked.
He thought of her longingly as he put the chestnut through her paces. The chestnut didn’t have the dancing gaits of his mare, but she was a smooth ride. He opened her up in the damp meadow and she thrilled him with an unexpected speed. The wind lifted his hair and the horse’s mane. It ruffled his shirt and filled his chest with a wild, lusty freedom.
He explored the grounds on horseback. A tall stone fence marked the perimeter. Trees had been cut away from it to prevent climbing. He was certain only a winged horse could have jumped it.
After a time, he found a gurgling stream leading to a quiet pond. He dismounted and walked the horse around the pond. A pair of swans, three geese, and a few black ducks glided through the water.
Watching them eased his restless spirit.
After a time, he mounted up and took the long way back to the stable. He found Kite waiting for him. He steeled himself for one of Kite’s strange tempers, but Kite smiled at him. He patted the mare’s neck. “I see you’ve met Rose.”
Elarhe dismounted easily. “She’s a good ride.”
“You have some skill with horses, I see. You have an excellent seat.”
Elarhe snickered.
Kite shook his head slightly. “That wasn’t meant as a joke. I only—you ride well, Squirrel.”
Elarhe lifted his hands over his head, stretching his back. “Thank you.” He turned his attention to Rose, freeing her of her saddle. Kite followed Elarhe as he led the mare around in a circle to cool her off. When Elarhe tied up the mare to groom her and rub her down, Kite helped him.
They led the mare into her stall. Kite showed him the four stout black horses who pulled his coach. “Storm, Thunder, Rain, and Tempest.” He patted the neck of each horse with an affection one rarely saw for carriage horses.
With the eagerness of a little boy showing off his toys, Kite drew him deeper into the stable. “This stallion is Vulture,” he said, snapping his fingers at a great black stallion to bring it close. The horse nickered at him and lipped his fingers. Kite kissed its nose. Elarhe chuckled. “You like horses, don’t you?”
“Horses are what men would be if they weren’t all complete idiots.”
Elarhe laughed. He listened as Kite introduced him to the rest of the horses, a bay mare named Holly, a white-stockinged black gelding named Sword, and a white mare named Snow. As they walked through the stable, the two huge dogs, Omen and Fortune, trailed them.
“Did you see the pond? My swans should have cygnets this spring.” Kite ducked his head slightly. “Cygnets are baby swans. They’re fluffy gray things.” He cupped his palms. “About so big.”
“I like animals, too.” Elarhe felt elated. He liked this side of Kite. The man seemed to drop his guard when he talked about the beasts. He looked even more handsome when he was relaxed and smiling easily.
Lover, Destroyer Page 6
