Malachite

by Kirby Crow

  “Son of a whore—” Marion came upright out of the chair with his fists balled, taking long strides toward them.

  Jean pushed Tris away quickly, in case Marion was careless with his swings. He lifted his chin, giving Marion a clean shot.

  Marion drew his fist back and wavered, arm upraised, and then Tris was between them, his hands on Marion's chest.

  “Ti prego, amore mio. Per favore. Please don’t.” Tris’s young voice was so soft, a moth batting against the wall of Marion's rage. But to Jean's surprise, Marion's fury evaporated. He seized Tris and dragged him into his arms, hugging him tightly.

  “I'm sorry,” Marion whispered. “So sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, to behave this way. Ti amo.”

  I love you. It stung less than Jean thought it would. More hurtful was Tris's look of joyous disbelief, and the way he beamed and threw his arms around Marion's neck. Tris would do anything for Marion, anything at all, just to hear those words. To be loved like that.

  I don't even know what that feels like. I think I did, once, and I've made Marion pay for it ever since. Poor him. Poor us.

  Jean realized he wanted Tris to look at him that way, to crave his love and his touch. He wanted to be the shining knight Tris looked to with joy in his eyes, a paladin worthy of the title, worthy of love. “Well, now that that's settled,” he drawled.

  Marion’s expression was uncertain, wavering between anger and... lust? Was it lust? Could Marion want him and Tris at the same time? Fathers knew they'd done that trick before, but never with a virgin, or a man they both cared for.

  A narrow line had always divided what Jean loved and what he hated, and he had wasted months pouring all of his emotion into resenting Tris, wanting him gone. Now he was trying to pull Tris closer, but did he want him there for Marion's sake or his own?

  Jean trailed his hand down the deep curve of Tris's spine, below his hip, gripping a handful of soft flesh and squeezing. Marion made a noise of irritation. Tris did not move, as if unwilling to break some fragile spell.

  Jean ducked his head and gently kissed the back of Tris’s neck, his tongue teasing. Marion met his eyes.

  “I think,” Jean said huskily, “it’s time we got this boy of yours into bed.”

  Marion gave him a narrow smile. “Into the chair with you, signore.”

  Jean huffed in disappointment and sank down into the chair, spreading his legs wide as he watched Marion frame Tris’s face in his hands and kiss him deeply.

  “Save some of that for me, or I’ll have to take myself in hand.” Jean palmed his crotch and thrust his hips up. His heart thumped hard with excitement and no small amount of nerves.

  “Shut up, prick,” Marion muttered.

  Tris rolled his pretty eyes. “No need to be crude, either of you.” He pulled Marion to the side of the bed.

  “Eager,” Jean commented.

  Marion opened his mouth to retort, and Tris slipped his arms around Marion’s neck, kissing him hard, probably to shut him up.

  Jean grinned. The boy knew how to get what he wanted. Far from being annoyed, he approved. He no longer had any interest in wrangling with Tris for Marion’s heart. He foresaw a power struggle over Tris, though. That was going to be fun.

  Marion growled playfully and gathered Tris up in his arms, carrying him to the bed. “I’ve waited a long time for this, so let’s do it properly.”

  Tris eyed Jean over Marion’s shoulder. “I’d hardly call this proper.”

  Marion laughed and laid him down. He crouched over him on the bed, kissing Tris’s neck and inching his shirt up to caress his skin. Tris gasped when Marion’s fingers traced over his belly, and Jean watched with interest as Marion cupped his hand between Tris’s legs. Tris’s spine arched up from the bed like a cat.

  “Oh,” Tris moaned. He glanced quickly at Jean, as if embarrassed by making noise.

  Jean watched them with eyes narrowed by lust. Don’t mind me, he wanted to say, but wisely kept still, allowing himself only a wink to reassure Tris.

  “Hey,” Marion murmured, taking Tris’s chin in his hand. “Eyes on me.” He stripped Tris of his shirt and hooked his fingers at the waist of Tris’s pants. “I’m the man you married.”

  Tris shivered as Marion pressed his shoulders to the bed and began to touch him, stroking his fingers over Tris’s nipples, teasing the sensitive skin of his belly. Tris gasped again as Marion tugged his pants down further a bare inch.

  Jesu, he’s going to blow like a geyser before he gets naked, Jean thought in fond amusement. His own cock was growing hard in response as he conjured an image of how Tris might look on hands and knees, that smart mouth occupied with something other than giving orders and offering bribes.

  Marion cupped his hand again over the rising tent in Tris’s pants, finding the outline of Tris’s cock and stroking it through the fabric.

  Tris thrashed his head on the pillows and whimpered.

  Marion seemed to sense how unfair it all was. He stopped and bent over Tris, kissing him softly. “Relax,” he whispered. “Just lie back for now. I want to do something for you.”

  Tris nodded, eyes wide, nearly panting from excitement. Marion kissed his way down the length of Tris’s body, down to his navel, and then slipped his hands inside the waist of Tris’s pants and abruptly pulled them down to his thighs. Tris jumped. “Shh,” Marion soothed.

  Jean tilted his head for the sight of Marion curling his hand around Tris’s cock. Jean licked his lips. Tris’s member was thick and stiff, bigger than Jean would have imagined. He grinned. “Damn,” he murmured in appreciation.

  Marion didn’t even look his way. He stroked Tris twice and then bent his head and clasped his lips around the head of his cock. Tris’s eyes fluttered closed and he gripped the headboard, using it to leverage his body up in time with Marion’s motions.

  “Oh Jesu,” Tris exhaled, a dazed look in his eyes that made Jean want to leap out of the chair and shove Marion aside. He just wanted in there, damn it! He growled in frustration and sat up, leaning forward eagerly.

  Tris gave a single, shocked cry and his hips bucked, eyes flying open. He let go of the headboard and his hands bunched in the sheets as Marion swallowed him down and moaned and slurped at the cock filling his mouth until Tris flailed weakly at Marion’s shoulder.

  “Stop stop,” Tris panted. “I can’t... too much.”

  Marion crawled up Tris’s body, a long, golden, feline of a man. He nuzzled Tris’s neck. “How was that?”

  “Jesu,” Tris exhaled, sweating and dazed. “How wonderful. Strabiliante.”

  Marion stroked Tris’s mouth with his thumb. His smile was inordinately, completely happy. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, thank you.”

  Jean’s arousal almost painfully confined. He slipped the buttons of his trousers free and toed off his boots before rising. He approached the bed, leaned down and stroked Marion’s back. “Bello.”

  He expected something from Tris, some rejection, but Tris smiled and shoved over to make room. Again, Jean was struck by the sheer generosity of him. Tris had been given so much in life, but he was willing to share. Maybe that’s what being noble really means, Jean thought.

  “You don’t have to,” Marion said.

  Tris’s gray eyes were slits of silver in the moonlit room as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Marion, mio marito... what makes you think I’m doing it for you?”

  Jean laughed. Marion glared at Jean, but his mouth was quirking. “Shut up.”

  “Mio marito,” Jean chortled. Tris was so enticing in his innocence, the curve of his narrow hips, his flawless skin and the sweep of his dark eyelashes and Jesu, when that fresh blush finally wore off, young Sessane would be breaking hearts all over the city.

  Just like his papa. Jean shook his head, almost pitying Marion. “Paladin’s cock, you have no idea what you’re in for, bello.”

  Marion slipped his arm around Jean’s neck. “You and your mouth. Always talking. Shut up, Jean.”
<
br />   “Shut up, Jean,” Tris agreed, kicking off his shoes and tossing his clothes somewhere in the corner.

  And then Marion kissed him. Jean could taste Tris on Marion’s tongue, salty bitterness that made his cock ache with need. Cardellino was skilled, but what Jean craved now was to forget himself in the arms of a man who knew his body, knew what he liked and just how he liked it.

  He felt a hand in his hair, smaller and hesitant. Jean turned from the kiss and found himself nose-to-nose with a stare so like Kon’s that it took his breath away. Jean cast about for something to say, feeling suddenly vulnerable under that gaze. “Look in the drawer, there by the bed.”

  Tris raised one silken eyebrow. “For what?”

  “You’ll know.”

  Tris rolled over and rummaged in the drawer, giving Jean a fine view of a perfect ass. He gave a short sound of humor and turned back, a slender vial in his hand. “This must be the necessary item.”

  And Marion lectured him about his smart mouth! Jean resisted the urge to drop everything so he could turn Tris over his knee and smack that pert bottom until the boy wailed. He laughed instead and plucked the vial from Tris’s fingers.

  “Very necessary. Watch and learn, kitten.” Jean sat up and crooked a finger at Marion. Marion looked to Tris, and after a long moment, Tris nodded.

  Jean’s hand trembled finely as he uncapped the vial and dripped the oil on the tip of his cock, letting the chilly droplets slide down his length. He reached for Marion, fingers curving around the arc of his shoulder.

  It was sweeter than Jean remembered, but maybe his mind had been clouded in those days. So many bad memories, too much guilt. He had not appreciated Marion enough, not realized just how much of home and belonging was in his arms until he was alone. Really, truly alone.

  Marion’s arm gripped him around the waist and pulled him close, mouth fastened to Jean’s. Marion moaned as Jean slid his hands under Marion’s knees and lifted him.

  “I want to see you,” Jean said, his voice rough with desire.

  Tris watched, lips parted in fascination, as Jean guided his cock to Marion’s body and slipped inside him with a low, near-anguished moan of pleasure. It was effortless for both of them, as welcome as air, as natural as coming home. Marion threw his head back, teeth clenched and eyes closed, and Jean’s heart caught in his chest. How could one man be so wonderfully abandoned and alive?

  “Marion,” he whispered, name like a prayer, and pressed his lips to Marion’s collarbone. I love you, he wanted to say, and denied the urge. He refused to take anything away from Tris tonight. Instead, the words seemed to burn themselves into his mind with each heated thrust:

  My heart, my beloved...

  His hips bucked and his hand slid blindly into Marion’s hair, catching his ear in the process. “Sorry,” he muttered hastily, petting Marion’s cheek before his fingers roughly gripped that golden hair at the nape, exposing Marion’s neck for loving bites and kisses.

  Marion’s cock was trapped between their bodies, hard and leaking, and Jean ruthlessly lifted up a bit, breaking contact. Marion grunted in loss, and Jean grinned like a wolf, right before the pleasure caught him wholly unprepared. He gave a harsh cry and slammed into Marion’s body, riding him, feeling him clench tight around his cock, strong arms around his back, so good he could almost weep.

  Jean felt lost when Marion eased him to his side and pulled away. He rolled onto his back, his heart thudding, and listened to Marion kissing Tris. He turned and saw Marion holding Tris’s face between his hands and gazing into his eyes as if his whole life rested there.

  For a moment, Jean felt like an intruder. He pondered slipping quietly away while they made love. Tris’s hand groped over the covers and found his, as if he sensed what Jean meant to do.

  “You don’t have to,” Tris said, an echo of Marion’s words.

  “But maybe I should.”

  “Oh, I left should behind when I fell in love with a crossbones.” Tris’s fingers traced the brand-scar on Jean’s arm. “With two of them.”

  Jean’s throat grew tight. He shifted and pulled Tris out of Marion’s arms, dragging his leg over his waist, exposing his body to Marion. Tris gave a pleading moan, burying his face in Jean's neck, and Jean grinned darkly at Marion. He stroked a hand lingeringly down the curve of Tris’s spine to the round softness of his ass, then let his fingers delve down into the warm cleft, teasing his fingertips along the vulnerable entrance.

  Marion stared, frozen, like a man unsure of a dangerous road. Tris moaned again as Jean licked his throat. Jean slid a hand between them to palm and stroke Tris’s cock. He murmured wordlessly in appreciation of its size and slipped his hand lower to palm the heavy flesh beneath.

  With a muttered curse, Marion found the vial on the bed and slicked his cock with oil, then pressed the length of his body against Tris’s back. His hand gripped Tris’s hip possessively and his lips touched Tris’s ear.

  “Mio marito,” Marion growled, his gaze locked with Jean, as if daring him to disagree.

  Jean smiled wickedly. He’d never seen Marion so jealous. Of who? He wanted to tease more, but Tris began humping against his belly, making whimpering noises that made Jean want to shove Marion away and roll Tris onto his back and just take...

  Jean resisted the savage urge and stilled his hand on Tris, just holding him gently as Marion began to rub and slide the head of his cock between Tris’s legs. Tris tensed and Jean kissed him deeply, distracting him with his tongue. Words would not reassure Tris now, but Jean had no fear at all for him. Marion knew what he was doing.

  Jean could feel the thick head of Tris’s cock nudging wetly against his thigh as Marion probed Tris’s body with careful fingers. Marion was tortuously slow, reaching several times for more oil, until Tris arched his neck and gasped.

  Jean seized Tris’s chin. “Don’t look away,” he murmured. “Let me see you.”

  “Then I’ll see you, too,” Tris whispered in a shaking voice.

  Did he want that? Jean stared into those wide gray eyes and felt the shadows haunting him come apart like cobwebs, as if darkness itself could not bear such a light. He realized he never wanted Tris to look away from him again.

  Tris trembled and clutched Jean’s arm as Marion entered him.

  Jean inhaled raggedly and stared, utterly lost in the sight of the twining figures splashed with moonlight, the sounds of flesh and Tris’s breathless surrender.

  Marion’s reached to hold them both while he fucked Tris with exquisite care and gentleness. They writhed and moaned together, and then Marion groaned deeply and sank his teeth into the curve of Tris’s shoulder. He thrust harder, his hips moving fast.

  Tris’s belly slapped against Jean’s cock as Marion’s breath hitched familiarly, telling Jean he was close. Jean reached down and took his member and Tris’s together in his fist and stroked, his grip awkward and desperate, until Tris cried out and his hand filled with come, the warmth splashing against his bare skin enough to send him over the edge as well, holding Tris tight to him and his nails digging into Marion’s shoulder.

  Never let them go. Never, never...

  He didn’t even realize he was saying it aloud until Tris laughed softly and covered his mouth with gentle hands.

  MARION

  The garnet of Aureo’s pendant caught the moonlight and turned it to blood in its depths. Marion put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, watching the flaring coal extinguish the bloody moon. Dawn would not come for another hour, and with it a future he could never have anticipated.

  A prince of cats needed nine lives. How many more would a highwarden need? Was that his third life gone, or his fourth? That depended on how he counted his resurrections. Was it through the crackle of fire at the Reed Gate, or the sound of a rope creaking at the Arsenale?

  Jean had made the vow to Daeron Nera for both of them, to save everything they loved by committing a betrayal that would likely destroy it all anyway, and the vow hadn’t lasted a week. If
Daeron’s spies saw through their duplicity, if they gave the game away even slightly, the Starless would return in force all the sooner, and next time there would be no survivors. The only path left to Marion now was his own, the Teschio way of promising anything and stabbing for the back at the first opportunity.

  Daeron should beware, he thought. This is a game I’ve played before, and the thing I fear most about myself is how good I am at it.

  The door opened behind him. Jean stepped onto the balcony and joined him in the night.

  Marion passed him the cigarette wordlessly. Jean leaned on the railing and smoked, looking out over the domes of the city.

  Marion studied the lines of Jean’s face. Jean caught him watching and smiled, and Marion finally admitted to himself that there never had been any way to change his life or to forget who he was. Who they were. For better or worse, the scars that bound him to Jean were forever.

  He'd given Jean so much of himself over the years, had ignored all his flaws, defended him even when he was in the wrong, fought for his attention, loved him, hated him, gave him up, in the end lost him. But he wasn't going to lose Tris. He was never going to lose Jean again either, if he could help it.

  Marion’s hand inched over the railing and covered Jean’s. Jean bent and skirted a kiss on Marion’s knuckles.

  “Will you stay with us?” Marion asked. “Tris cares about you.”

  “Loves.” Jean smirked. “You heard him.”

  “I’ve seen a hundred boys smitten with you, but you’re a lot further down that canal than he is,” he answered, nettled. “Don’t look so damn pleased.” But he had no cause to be either annoyed or surprised. It had been right there before his eyes the entire time.

  “Can’t help it,” Jean said. He chuckled, looked embarrassed. “He’s so fucking cute when he’s trying to be act dangerous.”

  “He is dangerous. He would have killed Archer on the battlements. I saw it in his eyes.”

  Jean sobered. “Yes,” he agreed quietly. “God, he reminds me so much of him.”