by Kirby Crow
“Hello?” Scarlet reached up and waved his hand in front of Liall’s face. “You in there?”
Liall smiled wanly. “I was thinking of your performance.”
Scarlet’s smile fell. “I was only–”
“You were only defending yourself. I saw.”
Scarlet shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much. It was just bile and spite from a woman who used to love you. Old Hipola the midwife was full of such, back home.”
Liall could smell the scent of Scarlet’s hair. Nenos had combed it with some spice or cologne. It took Liall a moment to recognize the scent of the flame-flower that grew by the sea. Keriss: Scarlet’s court name. It made him sad for some nameless reason.
“Do not confuse Shikhoza with a meddling midwife,” Liall warned as gently as he could. “She is capable of things you could not imagine. I should know.”
The last must have sounded too bitter, even for Liall. Scarlet turned to him. “Is something wrong?”
“Nenos said you were bored,” Liall answered said, looking away.
“I’m usually bored,” he sighed. “It’s not only this place, Liall, I was bored a lot at home, too. That’s why I became a pedlar, so that I would always have something to do.”
“I am beginning to realize,” Liall said softly, his fingers curling around Scarlet’s arm. “Just how difficult our relationship will be, for neither of us will ever be content anywhere.” No, content nowhere. He remembered too much of exile and Scarlet remembered too much of home. Always, they would be at opposites: in temperament, in nature, even in appearance. Scarlet was honesty and innocence and the vital energy of youth. In contrast, Liall felt brittle and overused, cynical and hateful. And yet, he could not help seeking Scarlet out time and time again, could not help running his fingers through that glossy black hair, touching that flawless ivory skin, devouring that red mouth.
Scarlet gave Liall a quick, odd look for his soft words, and for a moment there was fear on his face.
“No,” Liall hastened to say, before doubt could elbow its way in. “I only meant that we must work harder to be pleased in where we find ourselves in life.”
“Either that, or we need to stop paying so much attention to where we are, and more mind to who we’re with.”
The simplicity of the statement was so characteristic of Scarlet that Liall stopped and gave him a quick, impulsive hug, and suddenly the uncertainty of the future –both theirs and Rshan’s– weighed heavily on him.
“You are wiser than your years. If only we had met in peaceful times, when I could be a plainer man. One who could make you happy enough to forget your wanderlust.”
Scarlet pulled away, his dark brows drawing together. “There is something wrong. Tell me.”
“It is nothing. I am merely jealous that Tesk has asked the queen for permission to paint your portrait, and she has allowed it.”
Scarlet looked so worried that Liall had to kiss that lovely mouth again, seeking to wipe that anxiety away.
Scarlet returned the kiss enthusiastically, slipping his tongue between Liall’s lips and tickling the roof of Liall’s mouth and the back of his teeth, exploring. Scarlet gave a humming little moan that sent sudden heat through Liall’s groin. Liall cradled Scarlet’s face in his hands and kissed the delicate chin, the soft cheeks and closed eyelids, and suddenly the journey back to the apartments seemed far too long.
“I’ve got a wicked idea,” Liall murmured into Scarlet’s ear, licking the spot just under the silken lobe, warm and slightly-furred with tiny, delicate, translucent hairs.
Scarlet hissed in pleasure when Liall sucked on that spot, and pulled him closer. “Idea?” he asked, sounding breathless.
“Here,” Liall said, backing up to one of the many doors that lined the hall. He pushed the heavy wooden door open.
Scarlet peered inside the small, dim chamber. “What’s this?”
Liall tugged him into the room: a velvet-lined affair with a small che table in the center and several sturdy, cushioned chairs, their wood carved to be deceptively delicate-looking. At the stone casement, a round window overlooked a snow-bound garden that was perched on the roof of the apartment below.
“Nothing,” Liall said, closing the door. “Another salon. The palace is full of them.”
That puzzled Scarlet, and Liall guessed that Scarlet must never have seen a room that served only an occasional purpose. Liall remembered Scarlet’s cottage in Lysia, the compact neatness of it and how every little space had seemed to be used to maximum efficiency and multiple purpose. Well, they were not in Lysia anymore.
Liall kissed Scarlet until he was breathless again, and only when Liall’s hand dropped to unlace the front of Scarlet’s breeches did the man pull away. “Liall…not here.”
“Yes, here.” Liall drew Scarlet into another tight embrace and jerked at the front of Scarlet’s breeches impatiently. Scarlet seemed a little unsettled, but did not try to prevent Liall from attaining his goal, and gave a shaking sigh when Liall’s hand curled around him intimately.
“My t’aishka,” Liall breathed, “I love to touch you. I love to see how you desire me.” Liall gripped a little harder, making Scarlet gasp in delight.
Scarlet dug his fingers into Liall’s virca and kissed him, sliding his hand around Liall’s neck to pull the prince in for a deeper kiss, and thrust his tongue between Liall’s lips.
Liall moaned in delight. So bold! Before Liall knew it, he heard Scarlet’s boot-heel bump the leg of the small table, and he realized he had been backing Scarlet up all this time. So much the better.
“Hey!” Scarlet exclaimed when Liall cupped his hands around Scarlet’s bottom and lifted him, depositing his rump on the polished surface of the table.
Liall pushed Scarlet’s legs apart and dropped to his knees.
“Liall,” Scarlet moaned. “What—”
“I could eat you up,” Liall growled, and proved it by leaning forward and licking Scarlet’s cock from base to head. Scarlet shivered and Liall’s gaze turned predatory. “In fact, that is what I will do.” Liall pulled at Scarlet’s breeches, tugging them down his hips. Mine, he thought almost savagely. This is mine, this beauty, this sweet, halting reluctance, these layers of innocence that I have only begun to explore and peel away, one by one, never in haste, never carelessly. He would take Scarlet in many ways, but never carelessly, never without realizing what a treasure he held in his arms, and how rare it was, how precious, how he must protect it always.
Scarlet squirmed. “Liall, what if someone comes in?”
“Then they will go back out very quickly,” Liall answered, pulling Scarlet’s breeches down to his knees. Scarlet was not being very helpful. Liall wrapped an arm around Scarlet’s waist to hold him still, leaned forward, and took him in with a deep groan that seemed to reverberate through Liall’s toes.
Scarlet’s backbone went rigid and he made a startled little grunt, and then his hands were in Liall’s white hair, fingers gripping tight. “Gods,” Scarlet breathed in a high, harsh whisper.
There, Liall thought, feeling the quick response of his own body. Merely the sound of Scarlet’s voice, lifted in passion, had the power to stir his lust. Now he had what he sought clasped firmly in his mouth, warm and hard and slightly musky, heady to his senses. Liall swallowed Scarlet down until his nose was pressed against dark, silky hairs, then sucked softly as he pulled back, until he had the head between his lips. He twirled his tongue on it and sucked it like it was the sweetest strawberry. Beautiful, he thought fiercely, feeling as though he had drunk strong wine. Scarlet could have that effect on him, able to overload his senses until he was nearly intoxicated with awareness.
Scarlet shuddered and threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips clamped together.
Trying so very hard to keep silent, Liall thought, watching Scarlet intently through his lashes, how his chest heaved and he struggled not to cry out as Liall sucked him hard. Liall’s other hand moved to circle and stroke in time wit
h tongue and lips. Then Liall stopped stroking and slid his fingers into his mouth, getting them very wet. Liall slipped his hand beneath Scarlet’s scrotum, nudging and curling to find the closed entrance of flesh there, and slid one wetted finger inside him.
Scarlet’s hands tightened in Liall’s hair and he uttered a strangled shout, his thighs tensing as he arched up from the table. His hips bucked wildly and Liall felt the wet, silken flesh nudging the back of his throat just before Scarlet’s semen bathed his tongue. Some of it spilled out over Liall’s lower lip and dripped onto the fine silk of his shirt as Scarlet shuddered hard.
Scarlet’s fingers were still tightly wound in Liall’s hair, and Scarlet made a noise of contrition and smoothed his hands over Liall’s scalp and around his neck.
“Sorry,” Scarlet whispered, sounding like he had just run a very long way.
Liall looked at Scarlet, observing how he was flushed and sweaty, his dark eyes wide with the experience. Scarlet looked down and brushed his fingers over Liall’s mouth, tracing through the glistening moisture. Liall smiled up at him. Gods, so beautiful. No wonder they coveted him. Who among the men and women in the library tonight would not?
Liall knew that answer, and he thrust the thought away before it could sour his mood. “Good?” he asked, forcing his voice to be light. He rose and gathered Scarlet in his arms.
“Good? Deva save us.” Scarlet rested his cheek on Liall’s shoulder to recover. “There shouldn’t be words for how that feels,” he said into Liall’s collar. His lips touched Liall’s neck and kissed his way to Liall’s mouth. “I can’t even describe it.”
Liall shared the taste of Scarlet’s seed with him slowly, then more insistent as he trapped Scarlet’s leg and rubbed it between his thighs. Already Liall could feel an uncomfortable dampness in his breeches, and he longed to just open them here and bend Scarlet over the table, to feel that slender form writhing under him, to bury himself in that young body and feel the responding heat and passion coursing through his blood. He felt that if Scarlet were a drink he would have drowned himself in it willingly. Alas, that would spoil his plans for later. Regretfully, Liall broke the kiss and began to put Scarlet’s clothing to rights.
“What about you?” Scarlet protested.
“It can wait. I have a surprise for you,” Liall said, and was amazed at his own flush of gratification when Scarlet grinned hugely.
“Oh, another one? Tell me!”
***
Musicians who can play Byzan music were rare in Rshan, but being a prince carried its advantages. Scarlet listened to the familiar melodies a pretty Rshani girl played on the tal vielle and laughed when Liall proved he knew a Byzan song or two himself. They were together in the formal room. The tables and chairs had been removed and replaced with a long, low padded chaise and trencher, so the pair could take their ease half-reclining on pillows and eating while the bright, lively music was played on box harp and dittern and pulled from the taut strings of a tal vielle with a curved bow. Liall was determined to forget everything outside his apartments tonight. There would be no barons, no court intrigue, no ghosts nipping at his heels.
Liall also ordered the dinner himself. Scarlet seemed to like fish and seafood greatly, and there was no dearth of that in Rshan, so he ordered lavishly with an eye to salted and piquant dishes, and be damned if it was too much. Dvi, the cook, could set a feast for his fellow servants later.
Wine had been a problem. Scarlet did not like it much, preferring plain bitterbeer and honest Byzan ales, neither of which were available. Liall recalled a vintage that used to be popular ages ago, brewed from tart berries rather than grapes, and sweeter than men are wont to like. He instructed Dvi, the cook, to find a few bottles of it and ignored the glance the cook gave him.
Scarlet liked the wine. He liked the food too, and since it was salty, the wine went faster than Liall thought it would.
Liall poured the dregs of the second bottle into Scarlet’s glass and laughed at his flushed face and the way he sang off-key to the mournful Byzan love-song the girl was crooning. Scarlet normally had a very fine voice but the wine had taken its toll. Scarlet leaned closer to whisper something into Liall’s ear and tumbled against him, clumsy with drink. Liall’s back hit the pillows and a moment later Scarlet’s hand was on his thigh, fingers kneading gently as the Scarlet breathed hotly into his ear.
Not wanting to break the spell, Liall raised his hand in a subtle signal and the music stopped. Nenos bowed as the musicians immediately rose and filed out, silent as ghosts, and the servant closed the doors after them. Scarlet and Liall were alone with the blue lamplight and the smoky incense curling to the ceiling.
Their mouths met with a clash of teeth and tongue, and then Scarlet’s hands clasped Liall’s arms and the prince was shoving him off the low couch onto the thick carpet. Scarlet tried to take the aggressive role, but Liall deftly pushed him off and pinned his wrists over his head.
There did not seem to be enough oxygen in the air. Scarlet struggled under him and Liall released his hands. Immediately, Scarlet began to tug and pull at both of their clothes, stripping layers of fabric away to get to bare skin.
“Scarlet,” Liall laughed breathlessly. “If I had known a little wine would have this effect, I would have gotten you drunk much sooner. What has gotten into you?”
Scarlet grinned, jerking at Liall’s belt and trying to shove his breeches down his legs, hindered as he was with Liall on top of him. “You. Several times. And I want you again.” He nipped Liall’s chin with his teeth. ”Now.”
Liall rolled his eyes to the ceiling as if seeking divine guidance. “I am a dead man.”
“Too old for me?”
Liall could never resist a dare, and Scarlet was hot and willing under him, and more than a little wild. “I’ll show you old!” he growled. Scarlet laughed and they rolled on the carpet, struggling and nipping like wolf cubs, knocking the wine bottle off the table and spilling dregs into the fine weave, and neither of them gave a damn if the world ended outside, just as long as they had this.
“Scarlet,” Liall moaned into Scarlet’s mouth, when he could speak at all, as if the simple name tied him to earth and he must not let go of it. They had lost so much of themselves here. The bandit and the pedlar were fading, and what came next Liall did not know, and feared.
Liall’s touch had turned gentle, but Scarlet gripped the prince’s hands and pressed them hard against his skin. “More...” he pleaded.
Liall was always so careful with him, mindful that there were vast physical differences between them. “No, I will hurt you,” he murmured, almost in pleading. “I must be careful. You are too precious to me.”
“I won’t shatter, damn you, I’m not made of glass.” Scarlet bit Liall’s lower lip sharply.
Liall felt his resistance crumbling. “You must not tempt me in this way. Please.” He rolled over again, taking Scarlet with him, feeling Scarlet’s warm body draping him like a blanket. He pressed his nose into soft, straight hair, fragrant still with that touching scent, and sighed deeply. “You have no idea how much I love you, how it frightens me to think of anything happening to you. I must be watchful always.”
Scarlet’s echoing sigh and the slight sagging in his muscles let Liall know that Scarlet had relented. He would not demand that Liall give in to his more brutal nature. Scarlet would allow himself to be loved, he would surrender to it, and in doing so, conquer Liall more thoroughly than he ever dreamed.
I am lost, Liall thought almost in gloom. Lost, and I do not care at all. Not a bit.
The fire had burned down to red embers when at last Liall shuddered and moaned as Scarlet moved on top of him and straddled his hips. Liall watched Scarlet closely, his eyes narrowed to pale slits and a look of intense concentration on his face as he gripped Scarlet’s waist and helped him move.
Scarlet’s head was thrown back and the pale column of his throat ran with sweat. The firelight cast flickering shadows over Scarlet’s bare skin, fl
ame colors over white, as he murmured Liall’s name over and over again, soft and with hope, as if it were a magic chant against harm.
“Glorious,” Liall grated out in a raw voice, before his eyes closed and his own orgasm took him. “Glorious...”
5.
An Audience
Scarlet felt terrible when he woke. His mouth tasted like what he imagined a sewer must contain, and his head throbbed in time to his heartbeat. A groan escaped him before he could stop it.
