The Swithin Chronicles 3: The Comet Cometh

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  Now the two men moved closer, hemming him in. Hands examined, grabbed. They touched him often enough, but somehow their doing it now, when they were rightfully mad at him, caused Uly to squirm. Ryanac dropped down behind him, reached under the dress, and pulled down his underwear. Static made the gauze cling to his flesh. Markis’s fingers took the necklace from his throat. Now he wore only the dress, but he remembered Tressa applying the soft grey colour to the skin around his eyes and the rosy lipstick to his mouth. Markis tilted his head, and the next thing Uly felt was Markis’s tongue flicking between his painted lips. Ryanac’s hands tugged on the fabric, making it shift against his skin.

  “Tell us to stop,” Markis said, breaking the kiss.

  “Markis,” Ryanac complained.

  “Tell us to stop, and we’ll stop,” Markis repeated, ignoring the rebuke. “We’re not going to force you into anything.”

  The big man gave a soft curse. “I don’t know about you, but I can hardly resist.”

  “We’re not taking. We’ll give,” Markis said, “but only if he says yes.” He dropped to his knees.

  In the Swithin world, silence meant yes. Uly wasn’t sure it meant the same thing to him, but desire mixed with a little alarm captured his breath. Markis and Ryanac effectively squeezed him between them. Even as he looked down, Markis lifted two of the gauze layers, holding them aside. With the last finest layer left, he used it to wrap up Uly’s cock and balls. Unable to help it, he swelled, and then there was heat and wetness, soft depths followed by the strange sensation of coolness. As Markis bobbed his head, the gauze made Uly ever more sensitive. He could feel the heat more; he could also feel the cool air as it rushed in the moment Markis’s warm lips receded.

  Behind him, Ryanac also fiddled with the dress. Those big hands grabbed his cheeks, pulling at them, separating. A thumb pushed that last layer in against him. He frowned, puzzled, then let out something close to a cry of pain, though he felt anything but. Ryanac’s hot, wet tongue flicked back and forth and then circled his entrance. He had never felt such a thing. The sensation slammed up through his body with such force his legs gave way. Both men caught and held him in place, though he had no idea how. The waves built, cresting, no longer situated just at his groin, but running over his skin. The feeling set even the backs of his arms tingling. If he said no now, he didn’t think either of the two men would believe him. He wouldn’t have believed him either. They had a word, the one you said if you truly wanted this to end. He couldn’t think of it, remember it. There was that other word though, the one that meant tame as in surrender. He whispered it so low that he doubted anyone could hear it. Nevertheless, his body heard, and it gave in to the pleasure.

  Time lost meaning. Ryanac and Markis played him until he couldn’t tell which hands belonged to who, which hot tongue entwined with his. He only came to his senses when he opened his eyes to the sight of Markis’s face so close to his, the man devouring him almost with every kiss…as Ryanac knelt before them devouring two cocks at once. To feel his hard, overheated flesh pressed against Markis’s and engulfed in such slick heat went beyond description. As if he were aware Uly had opened his eyes, Markis opened his. The look in those dark eyes was almost challenging. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye, though Uly didn’t understand why he felt so close to crying when all he could feel was sheer bliss.

  He was sorry for putting his life at risk. He had wanted to keep Tressa safe, but the true reason he’d gone with her was he felt as tired of the palace as she was. He’d be honest with Markis as soon as the time was right, which was not while they kissed. Markis turned his head, gathering up the tear on his tongue and taking the salty taste to Uly’s lips. To his surprise, Uly sucked hungrily at the taste. He wanted to drown in this, in anything, in passion if that was what it took to kill this restlessness that ate away inside of him. Markis told him the sea tasted of salt, but he had yet to see it close. Fine; as one could drown in the sea, he would drown in Markis. It didn’t matter that it was Ryanac’s hot mouth that they spilled into, only that Markis’s heat and smell surrounded him and the sight of the man’s dark gaze made him shout out some unintelligible sound.

  If Tressa could hear his cries, she probably thought they were inflicting some terrible punishment upon him.

  * * * * *

  Uly opened his eyes to find he lay on one of the couches. He still wore the dress, though Markis had thrown a cover over him. The wind blowing through the open doors leading out to the balcony had grown chilly, but it brought a sweet scent, so they often left them open until the last possible moment. The atmosphere in the room was one of peace. Uly huddled beneath the blanket, more content than he had a right to be. Dress or no dress, he intended to go back to sleep. A sound off to the side made him open his eyes again. Antal stood there, looking at him.

  Suddenly afraid of seeing the look on Antal’s face at the sight of the dress, Uly gripped the blanket and held it tight. It occurred to him there might be traces of paint on his face, but he felt certain that Markis had kissed and licked it all away.

  “How could you?” Antal said. Uly would have preferred to hear more force behind it. He didn’t know what to say. He just stared. “I nearly died saving your life, and this is what you do?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry,” Antal repeated. He looked thoughtful. “Funny. That is what I used to say to my parents when I was a child.”

  The fun-loving Antal had gone. This young man looked very serious. It suddenly dawned on Uly that this confrontation was his punishment.

  “Markis gave me a choice. I can step down as Sonndre to you. He’ll find you another protector. Is that what you want?”

  Uly shook his head. No, that wasn’t what he wanted. He had argued against anyone putting his life in danger for him at first, but these people considered the position an honourable one. It meant something beyond his understanding. It meant something to Antal that he had chosen to accept the position as Uly’s personal guard.

  “To be Sonndre takes trust. I know Markis has run off on Ryanac at times, but Markis is a man with a wealth of experience that with luck you will never need. You’ve led a difficult life, but there are still darker sides to life from which Markis will spare you if he can. Markis has the comet, and he has fighting skills. You have street smarts, and you learn well, but you are not ready to be out there by yourself, not with some unseen threat against you. One day, maybe you will. That day, if you run off, I’ll curse you the way Ryanac curses Markis, but I’ll forgive you for it. This is a partnership. A relationship. You have to trust me to do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I need to be able to trust that you won’t do such foolish things. Now give me your word.”

  Uly swallowed, and it hurt. “I swear it. On my life.”

  Antal blinked. “Let’s just hope it won’t come to that.” He turned and left the room.

  Sighing, Uly sat up. He didn’t know if Markis truly wanted him to wear the dress for the rest of the day, but neither the garment nor the stains on it made him feel soiled. The look he had seen in Antal’s eyes served quite well enough for that.

  Chapter Six

  From the corner of his eye, Markis saw Ryanac walk by the store, stop, take a step back, and look in. Markis turned his head away before they could make eye contact through the open doorway. Covertly using the reflection in a mirror that stood in the corner of the store, Markis watched the big man stand there, ignoring the people who bumped into him. It wasn’t like Ryanac to be rude, so he was impolite out of amusement.

  A moment later, the guard walked over and lounged against the doorframe. Markis finally turned his head to look directly at Ryanac, as the man’s bulk blocked the light. “If you’re going to come in, then come in. I can’t see anything with you eclipsing the day.”

  Ryanac blinked, started slightly, and then unfolded his arms and moved inside. Markis struggled not to smirk. It wasn’t often Ryanac forgot his size. To remind him of it was a rare treat. Ryanac
peered over his shoulder, leaning in so they could speak quietly, although the storekeeper had backed into a corner. She had gabbled at first, upon finding the king in her store, and it had nothing to do with embarrassment. The Swithin rarely suffered embarrassment; at least not over sex. She just didn’t seem to know how best to serve him, so she had given him too much advice until he told her he needed a few quiet moments in which to think.

  “What kind of example are you setting when you skip out on your captain? We berated Uly and Tressa about this.”

  “And as Antal said, if they were as skilled with a sword as I am and had the use of the comet, we wouldn’t worry so much.”

  Ryanac looked at him. The heat of that gaze slid up and down the side of his face. “I still worry.”

  “I know that,” Markis said gently, putting all his feelings into his voice. He smiled wryly. “If I hadn’t skipped out on you, we never would have found Uly.” He spoke of a long-ago night when he had gone out alone, and the thief had tried to rob him.

  “Fine. You win.” Ryanac turned his attention to the items the storeowner had kindly laid out on the counter. The velvet backing softened the sound, but this many crystals together gave off a quiet hum. “For Tressa or Uly?”

  “I thought both.”

  “Good.” The grin found its way home. “Having trouble choosing?”

  “You could say that.”

  Ryanac studied the items. He pointed to a few. The woman moved hesitantly towards them. Markis nodded. “Put the others back.” She did and then moved away again. Markis studied the remaining items, picking one up to feel the weight. He finally found one he liked. He chose a flat one to go with it, just the right size and shape.

  “May I choose Uly’s?”

  Ryanac’s question took him by surprise. Markis lowered his head, not from embarrassment but for privacy. “You’ve never been inside him.”

  “I’ll take your advisement then, but I know what I’m looking for.” Ryanac went through those in front of him. He ended up with three possible choices, weighed them in his hand, discounted one and ended up with two. “Which do you think?”

  Markis examined them. “This one,” he said finally.

  “Same one I was looking at.”

  They nodded to the woman who approached, put the unwanted ones back, took the items they had chosen, and proceeded to package them.

  “I want to pay half the cost of Uly’s gift.”

  Markis raised an eye. “I won’t even ask why.”

  “You planning on giving Tressa hers tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

  Amused rather than irritated, although a little put out his surprise would have to wait, Markis asked, “Why?”

  “Because Uly and I are spending the day together. It will be a perfect end if you’ll allow me to present our gift to him then. If you give Tressa’s hers before then, he might discover the crystals exist and it will spoil the surprise.”

  Ryanac had a point. If Tressa had too smug a look on her face, Uly might well ask why. “I’m going to speak to Harton about your plans for tomorrow right now,” Markis said, though that wasn’t what he was thinking. A trace of uneasiness crept through him.

  “That’s not what’s bothering you.”

  “Damn it, Ryanac.” Markis looked to the side to make sure the woman wasn’t listening. “Why did we have to share the comet if you can read my mind without it?” They had learned how to share the abyss on the two-week journey to the city, and that meant sharing their very essence.

  “Because it helped you learn control, and we wanted to share feelings, not thoughts.”

  Markis gritted his teeth. He had to force the words out. “Are you planning on seducing him?”

  The big man shrugged. “You know me. I never plan anything.”

  That was half a lie, half truth, and told him nothing. Ryanac’s gaze moved towards the woman who had finished packaging their gifts. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said.

  * * * * *

  “Do you really want to do nothing but sit on the council?”

  Harton laughed at the question. He threw back his head as he paced, arms folded. Not many would have come before their king and paced in front of him. They would have stood still and bowed their heads in respect, but Harton had been his father’s captain, his Sonndre, for too many years. They had not been Samir to each other, but the rest held true. Harton hadn’t always liked Markis’s father, but he had been loyal to him. It made Markis wonder if Ryanac ever disapproved of the things he did. He didn’t wonder for long. Harton had spoken openly to his father most of the time. Ryanac would tell Markis what he thought no matter what. Ryanac’s too blatant honesty was one of many things in their relationship that he relied on.

  So Harton paced, but they were friends, and this was hardly a formal meeting.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to come to this,” Harton said. Markis raised an eyebrow. Harton shrugged. “Well, since I found those two wandering around outside anyway. They both looked quite fetching in a peculiar way.”

  “You’re avoiding.”

  “And you’re complicating my life.”

  While that was true, it didn’t account for Harton’s agitation. Markis could feel the tension in the man mounting. He could almost taste it. “So you want to do nothing but vote on the council and sit in the sun when you’re not?” His father was dead. Harton had the right to retire and an automatic seat on the council for services rendered.

  “I do have other things in my life. Your own Sonndre is a man, not just his duty.”

  Markis gave that comment the pause it deserved: none. “Ryanac has his duty and sex.”

  Harton smirked. “I hear they’re one and the same.”

  “The earth shifts,” Markis said. He meant Harton stood on unstable ground. There was no shame in Markis’s relationship with his guard, but it was impolite to mention it the way Harton had.

  “So bury me if you can.”

  The animosity in Harton’s voice was unexpected. Markis barely hesitated in his reply, though. “I could.”

  “But you won’t.”

  Markis looked up into the other man’s face, still trying to figure out why Harton appeared so unhappy. The proposal wasn’t so out of the ordinary, and even if the suggestion was unwelcome, Harton had the right of refusal. He didn’t have to take on another post. Why didn’t the man just say no if this proved so upsetting? “Don’t mistake friendship and the emotion that comes with it for weakness. You would have to push me more than that and more than most for me to retaliate, I admit, but that does not mean I won’t.”

  Harton studied him, and then dropped his gaze in a gesture of submission. “I had to be sure.”

  “As do I. I…could do with another sword I can trust.” Markis had asked Harton to act as a secondary guard to keep his family safe until they could be sure that whatever threat there was to Tressa and Uly had passed. That duty, if Harton took it, would begin with covering Ryanac’s back when he took Uly out for the day.

  Still Harton hesitated, and for such a long time that Markis almost recanted his offer. When Harton spoke, it was almost as if something tore the words from his throat. His face looked quite red.

  “You have it.” Harton sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m saying yes. I thought I had had enough of babysitting.” He still sounded disgruntled about the post even if he had accepted. Markis now felt uneasy and doubtful. Harton’s attitude was thoroughly perplexing.

  “They’re not babies, and you might find… Well, compared to Tressa, you might find you preferred my father’s wrath.” Markis sighed inwardly. This was not the time, but he needed to ask. “Why did my father dislike Azulites so?”

  Harton appeared grateful to hear the conversation move forward. “Your mother loved one.”

  The easy admission made Markis raise his head. He couldn’t help wondering whether Harton would have told him so if it weren’t for the fact t
hat the man clearly wanted to change the topic. “What?” Markis couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Harton laughed at the expression on his face.

  “That’s right. She loved one. He was travelling through and caught her eye.”

  “She disobeyed the king’s wishes?” Markis pictured the calm, dignified woman he remembered. As far as being Swithin went, he’d always found it difficult to imagine her in his father’s bed, let alone anyone else’s. She always seemed more than satisfied with just one man, and loving to her sons, yet somehow aloof to others.

  “She didn’t even ask him.”

  The initial shock gave way to anger. Markis wanted to call Harton a liar, but he knew better than that. He released the clenched fists he had made, but too late. Harton’s gaze flickered from his hands to his face.

  “She loved him,” Harton continued. “Oh, she liked, even loved, your father, but she never looked at him the way she did that man. Your father threatened his life, and your mother said she would cut his balls off while he slept if Lerai hurt him. He believed her, and so did I. Therefore, Lerai tolerated this man as her lover while he was here, knowing he would go on his way in a short while. Your father could be wise at times.”

  Markis wanted to ask for more details, and yet, at the same time, he didn’t. This was his mother they discussed. Harton would only say more if he asked. He shook his head.

  “Even so…no. That’s not a good enough reason for his feelings. It would be for some men, but not my father, and not a Swithin man. He already disliked them; I know not why. This just added to it.”

  Harton shrugged. “You are likely right. I have wondered as much myself, but that was one thing your father never confided in me.”

  “I once thought my parents loved each other.” Markis hadn’t meant to say that aloud, or at least not in such a way, in such a tone of voice.