Another Place in Time

by Aleksandr Voinov

  “If you hate me so, why are you here?” Guy asked.

  “To tell you to leave.” Please, leave, before my resolve cracks again. “I have found peace here.”

  Guy’s face fell. “Then why are you shaking? William Raven is afraid of nothing.”

  William wanted to push him away and free himself. Guy reminded him of his own pride, of the free, restless, and often lawless life he’d led, of his own recklessness. He’d always fought as though he would—could—never die. As though God could never punish him for the deed.

  “I’m not that man anymore,” William whispered.

  “Are you not? You bear his form, speak with his voice, you feel the same.” Guy pressed into him, bringing their bodies flush, with no space left for even a dagger blade between them.

  William remembered how they’d touched and kissed and fucked for days, never leaving the bed. Wild times . . . the saint’s festival, the city of Metz full of nobility and fighters and painted whores. During those times William had thought, had hoped there could be rest for him. He’d lain in Guy’s arms and held the man at his shoulder, believing that maybe, maybe, there was a life without shame for them.

  “How can you have peace,” Guy demanded, “when I came here to pray for deliverance, having found it nowhere else? I came to the Holy Land, begging forgiveness for my sin of loving you. Feeling that if any place in the world could work that miracle, it must be Jerusalem.”

  “And you found me,” William said.

  Guy dismissed that with an irritated shake of his head. “I am no longer looking for forgiveness. This was a fool’s errand. If loving you is a sin, I’ll gladly burn in Hell.”

  Is, not was. William almost choked on his breath.

  After the death of his master and first lover, Sir Robert de Cantilou, he hadn’t dared to approach another man. He’d had no doubt that he’d never find Sir Robert’s equal, would never again share his heart, body and soul with another warrior. And the risk was too great. In the eyes of the Church, the sin was too monstrous, and made more monstrous if he defiled the body of a man who himself had honour and power. Transgressions with a servant might be more easily forgiven, or their silence bought with a silver coin.

  But, a small voice in his head taunted, only another warrior had the strength to love him.

  A pain as intense as receiving a wound in combat pierced him. “Why don’t you just leave?”

  Guy’s lips were so close that William felt the man’s breath gentle on his face. “I’ve heard them say that love is like a falcon, but I’d never felt the falcon’s claws pierce my heart until you kissed me. Tell me you didn’t mean it. Tell me you don’t love me now.”

  “I’m a monk, Guy. I . . .”

  How could he deny that damned desire? Guy was different—older and bearded and a much better fighter now. But he was still the same man too, fearless and challenging. He was rebellious, defiant, and proud, but even if his pride was sinful, William could not think of Guy as evil. Not even now.

  Guy didn’t listen, or he didn’t care. He kissed William’s face, his throat, pressed into him with all the abandon of a love denied for too long.

  For six forlorn years, William had thought he’d never see Guy again. He’d wanted to forget him. He’d joined the order to do penance for his sins, for the one fault he’d never been able to fix, and to escape the politics, the intrigue, the rumours and whispers, and a passion he’d never been able to cut from his heart. Now, in the land of promise, on the same earth on which the Son of God had walked, and in the teeth of the enemy, he faced the madness again, and his lover’s feverish light blue eyes.

  “I have given myself . . . to God.” William groaned when Guy’s hands opened his belt. Guy didn’t listen, didn’t stop even for a moment as he pulled the cappa off him, stripping him to the light linen shirt, leggings and breeches.

  “You had no right to,” Guy whispered harshly, hands now on William’s red woollen belt—the symbol of chastity. “You had no right to give him what you gave me. I never released you.”

  William took Guy’s hands, stilling them in a last, desperate attempt to not succumb to this temptation. “I was free to go.”

  “You weren’t.” Guy pressed William’s hands in his. “The things you swore . . . that you loved me, that you would stay with me. And then you stole away like a thief? All I heard was that you’d given away everything you owned and joined an order, denying me.”

  “I did not.”

  “Oh, I know your Templar rites. Your master told me about them. They ask whether any man has any claim over you. You cannot join the order if such a claim exists. You may not be married, you may not be sought for murder, or owe another debt . . . but what about my claim over you?” Guy bared his teeth. “Does this mean less than a debt unpaid?”

  Yes. It had to. One was a promise made while addled with passion, the other a higher calling, a sacrifice, martyrdom. Even Sir Robert had spoken of joining the Templars—but yet, he never did, and then his life had been cut short by treachery. “You cannot compare—”

  “Were you a liar then? Who did you lie to, William, because both cannot be true at the same time.”

  Sir Robert had taught him everything he knew about being a knight. How to be true to his word, a trustworthy friend to his friends, how to be loyal, and most importantly, about how he might fail to live up to the ideals, but also how constant striving for them was what set a knight apart.

  True to his friends. True to his word.

  Guy was right. During the rite of acceptance, William had denied any claim over him existed. He’d told himself that those were sins he was leaving behind, but while he had not broken the letter of the rule, he’d certainly broken its spirit. He had joined under false pretences. “I spoke the truth then. You are dear to me.”

  “Finally.” Guy kissed him, one hand against his throat as if to hold him under control. Those fierce kisses dazed him and ignited the old fire he’d thought doused. Instead, the embers had been hidden safe in the ash, and now, rekindled, the heat returned. A dark red core like a pain in his chest flared, and he gave up, accepted this defeat just like the one on the testing ground.

  He couldn’t help the groan when Guy’s hand slid downwards along his body, and a tremble passed through him he couldn’t suppress. Nobody had touched him like this in six years, and it seemed to him as if his body had forgotten what it was like to be touched with passion and need rather than an accidental brush or the mad straining of combat or training. He’d taken the vow of chastity and done his best to keep it. If such sins existed among the brothers, he didn’t know of it, didn’t seek it out, refused to be seducer or seduced. But when Guy touched his groin, there was clear proof that his body had never truly forgotten a lover’s touch. That his blood was just as sinful as it had ever been.

  And yet, he remembered the utter peace he’d felt in Guy’s arms, and Robert’s before him.

  A peace he craved worse than the contact from that demanding hand. “Guy, we—”

  “Be still, my falcon.” Guy took William’s neck in his strong grip and pulled him close while his free hand stoked the maddening fire.

  William gasped with want and need. He despised himself for having left Guy then, and for breaking his vows now. He pushed his hands under Guy’s shirt, feeling the hot skin, the ripple of muscles as Guy shifted. He couldn’t turn back now.

  Six years. Why had he waited so long?

  His hands were unsteady when he opened Guy’s belt. The sound of the buckle hitting the ground seemed loud enough to alarm the guards. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he didn’t want to stop.

  He pulled off Guy’s shirt and dropped it to the barn floor before kissing the broad shoulder, the line of the man’s collarbone. His teeth found the strong muscle between shoulder and neck, and on his chest William thought he felt a scar that hadn’t been there six years ago.

  Guy hissed at the bite, but laughed quietly. “What’s that? Revenge for besting you?”<
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  “I’ve bested you a hundred times.” William kissed Guy’s throat and freed him from the breeches, touching him just to tease him, making the other man growl softly in his throat.

  “Not this time.” Guy pushed him back against some sacks of grain.

  William resisted, took hold of Guy’s neck and forced him into a wrestling hold.

  Fighting Guy was almost as good as fucking him, and William gave a short laugh. Guy placed an arm around his hips and tried to unbalance him.

  William leaned against him, then Guy abruptly changed the movement, pulling now instead of pushing, and they stumbled against the grain sacks. William managed to use the momentum to get on top, holding Guy down with his weight, grinding against his groin.

  Guy stared at him in a clear challenge, the expression on his moonlit features enough to make William’s blood surge. He bent his neck, kissing that chest, the fine blond hair there, feeling Guy’s strong fingers pull his head closer, press his face against his skin.

  He knew what Guy really wanted, could read him so well, and yet it was always a struggle. Now, though, Guy was better matched to his own strength. William removed Guy’s breeches, then pulled down his own, baring them both completely. He pressed his cock against Guy’s groin, felt the other’s heat and desire, his chest expanding with choked breaths, his muscles coiled as with the beginning of a fight.

  Guy wouldn’t give up, and that aroused William even more. Guy hadn’t come here to get fucked.

  Guy bucked underneath him, but William resisted, ground against Guy’s movements, and the man visibly struggled to just give in. William knew him well enough to see Guy’s impatience was beginning to get the better of him. He kissed Guy deeply, pushing his tongue between lips that resisted at first but then kissed him back with all the desperation that mirrored William’s own.

  The only warning William received was Guy pulling away, then Guy hooked his leg around his thigh and forced him to roll over. The uneven surface of the sacks made them move farther than Guy had intended. William landed on his back with a harsh sound, but he laughed when Guy grinned at him.

  “Got you,” Guy whispered. “Turn around.”

  William disentangled himself just enough to turn, never fully breaking skin contact, brushing against Guy’s naked body. He laughed at the thought of doing it here, in a dusty barn, when they had lain on silken beds and forest clearings in bloom. He pulled his knees under him, felt Guy shift on top, trusting him with one thing: there would be no quarter given or received. Their love had rarely been tender.

  True to this, Guy spat, then groaned and pushed against him. William braced himself, head hanging low, weight on his elbows and knees. Guy’s arm slid around William as the man used his raw strength to push into him.

  William almost shouted out against the pain, but it came mixed with a pleasure that he had no name for. Being taken, being claimed, wiped out all thoughts of guilt. The rough invasion made him bite down on curses and pleas, but for what, he wouldn’t have known. Not mercy, not redemption, not being spared this. He wanted Guy, even welcomed the pain. It made this stolen encounter more real, and maybe the pain was part of the punishment for the sin.

  William gave a choked sound when he felt Guy’s body flush against his.

  “So long . . .” Guy whispered. “It’s been . . . the same for you.”

  William gritted his teeth.

  Guy pulled back and added more spit before pushing against him with even more force as though trying to break the resistance of his body. With the next thrust, he could feel himself yield. The pain turned into a low burn and the pleasure increased so that William had to suppress his moans.

  His dizzy mind concentrated on where they touched, on Guy’s sweaty hands running over his body, then taking his hips to steady him for more forceful thrusts. Guy had no need to pin him like this. William pushed back, face twisted in a grimace, teeth bared in an animal snarl as his lover fucked him—the one man alive who dared claim him.

  “Demanding . . .” Guy laughed, meeting every movement with a thrust of the hips.

  Their strengths pitted against each other, demand and control mutual, wanting and craving shared.

  Guy’s thrusts became more erratic. He sped up until everything melted and the burn was blanked out and turned into need. William couldn’t find the balance to touch himself, but he was getting close. He was about to beg Guy to release him when he felt Guy come inside him with several more desperate thrusts.

  Before William could ask to be touched, Guy pulled away and pushed him down, turned him around roughly and immediately closed his lips around his cock, sucking with so much eagerness and hunger that it pushed William over the edge.

  William pulled Guy down onto his cock, making him choke. The small revenge for what Guy had done didn’t last long. Guy didn’t fight it. They’d always been rough.

  William thrust up into Guy’s throat and release came almost immediately, tensing every muscle in his body and shaking him to the core.

  Guy struggled free, coughing, but then he grinned and sat back against the grain sacks, wiping his face with one hand. The familiar gesture brought back memories of their fights at tournaments; they’d worked together as a team and made a fortune taking other knights captive until they paid ransom. In ten months, they had taken well over one hundred and twenty knights, and spent a lot of the money on food, drink, horses, and gifts. They’d been fierce lovers, undefeatable together, the presence of the other bolstering both courage and strength. It had been the best time of their lives.

  William caught his breath, lying flat on the ground, wishing nothing more than to pull Guy close and rest with him. To find that solace in his touch after release, to feel his every breath, secure in his strength and devotion.

  Yet the sin had eventually caught up with him. The rumours, the whispers about their ‘ unnatural’ bond, the sin of Sodom, had unnerved him, forced him away. He couldn’t face the sneers, the snide remarks—losing Robert just a few months prior had weakened him, had left him rudderless and adrift, too weak to withstand his enemies, and he hadn’t wanted to drag Guy into all this along with him. They were better off alone, he’d thought. Time heals everything, he’d thought.

  I was wrong.

  They rested wordlessly for a long time, not touching, their hearts beating on their own, their breath mingling not with each other’s, but with the cold night air. William studied Guy’s features, the colour of his hair in the moonlight.

  Guy said he had a claim over him, and even if William would normally be loath to admit it, it was doubtlessly true. He had made promises, given those oaths not just in the heat of passion, but also in the tender moments that followed. He had pledged himself to this man, just like he’d pledged himself to Sir Robert while he’d lived. If he’d learned one thing, then that love could still die. He’d left Sir Robert and heard of his death while abroad. For months, he’d had to contend with the guilt and the question whether Sir Robert’s enemies would have got the better of him if he, William, had been there to protect him.

  William groaned. Could he stand to lose Guy in the same way? Could he let him go and turn his back on him, now that Guy had found him from an ocean away? But it was no use. He had sworn an oath, dedicated the rest of his life and the strength of his arms to protect pilgrims and the Holy Land.

  “Conrad will miss me.”

  “Conrad?” Guy looked up.

  “I share a room with another knight. As is custom, to guard each other’s purity.” William grinned without humour. This had been madness, a lapse in judgment. He couldn’t regret it, but every moment he stayed, his resolve weakened. He got up and gathered his clothes, putting them back on.

  Guy, however, didn’t move. “Stay.”

  “I have to obey the rules.” William fastened his clothes again. “Don’t damn us both. You have to go back. The guards will wonder what you are doing outside the guest quarters.” And Master Arnauld wasn’t lenient about sin. If they were disco
vered—if anybody even guessed what bond they shared, they would be severely punished. Arnauld might let Guy go after a stern warning, but William was in his power.

  “Is that it, then?”

  “You have to finish your pilgrimage, and I have given my vows.” William put on the dark mantle and walked toward the door. “God bless you, Guy.”

  “Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll leave you in peace,” Guy snapped.

  William’s palm, flat against the door, formed a fist. He couldn’t. He did love Guy. Even if the bastard made him grind his teeth. ”I do.”

  You know I do.

  But it was impossible. He was a Templar. With his vows, William had given up the right to go where he pleased. Templars were sent where they were needed. A man like him belonged in the heart of battle. It was his life’s purpose; he was made to do battle against the heathen, to win his own worth through service that would count against his sins when he died. This was a matter of his soul, his faith, and he would not leave the one place in the world where he had found something like redemption. Above all, he couldn’t run away again.

  Yet, Guy’s claim was valid, too. He’d given promises and never kept them. It was a grave sin, perjury; any oath he had sworn during the initiation meant nothing. The promises to his lover made everything a lie. Six years with the Templars, countless times he’d offered up his life and body in battle, yet his sins condemned him as surely as breaking these oaths.

  Either way, he was damned. He bent his neck, unable to reach a decision.

  Guy stepped up close to him and placed both hands on his shoulders.

  “You love me and yet you have to go?”

  “Forgive me, Guy.”

  “Do you remember the first tournament? When we crossed swords, much as we did today?” Guy’s voice was thick with emotion. “Do you remember how you bested me and how I came to ransom my weapons from you? Instead of silver, you claimed a kiss from me.” Guy’s lips were so close that William felt his breath on his neck.

  William couldn’t answer. It might have been madness, but it had turned into love. A well-known professional jouster and the scion of an important family. He shouldn’t have demanded that first kiss, but he couldn’t regret it now. Maybe it would be easier if he could have.