In the Company of Men Boxed Set

by Lynn Lorenz

  His soft purring became deep, soft pants as he stretched me, burying himself completely inside, covering me with his body. I closed my eyes, relaxed, and felt all the sensations he gave me, the lust, the hunger, the love, the want, and the need.

  Then, his hips began to pull back, dragging his cock backward in a long, slow slide. My fingers clutched the bed, handfuls of quilt in my fists, and my back arched. Gods, the pain, the indescribable pleasure of it, engulfed me. As he plunged back in, I threw my head back, bit my lip to keep from roaring, and tasted my blood. Ansel rode me, the weight of his body pressed against my back, his fingers wrapped over mine, his hips moving, his feet seeking purchase against the bed as he pumped, and that soft, low purring coming from his throat vibrating against the back of my neck.

  He owned me, possessed me. I was his creature to ride. I would have done anything for him, walked any distance, fought any foe, shouted his name from atop my damned horse, even died for him. All, if he had but asked it of me.

  “On your hands and knees.” His hands dropped to my hips as he pulled back, dragging me upward.

  Now it was my turn to keen through clenched lips. He drove himself into me with powerful thrusts, rocking my body with each penetration. All I could see was the wall in front of me, but all my other senses were focused on what was happening behind me. The strength of his fingers as they held my hips, his cock sliding in and out of my ass, the slap of his sac against mine, the soft, wet sounds of fucking, the creak of the bed’s strings, the smell of our sweat, his panting as he rode me, and my muffled moans all blended into one glorious experience.

  With strength I didn’t think he had, he leaned back and lifted me onto his lap, still impaled on his rod. I sat astride him on my knees, his bent legs between mine, his arms wrapped around my chest.

  His hand slid down my chest to find my throbbing cock, aching for his touch. Ansel stroked me as his other hand tortured my nipple.

  With my hands on the wall for support, I rode his rod as he pumped my cock. Our bodies were covered in a fine sheen of moisture as we fucked, two lovers lost in pleasuring each other.

  “Tell me you love me, Drake.” His lips brushed my earlobe as he whispered.

  I met him with silence, afraid to speak the words, to admit the feeling. Even after giving him everything, it was hard to say. I had never before spoken those words, not even as a lie.

  Ansel’s hand was relentless as he coaxed the cream from my cock. The pressure built in my stones, pushing up my shaft, throbbing with the need to release.

  “Tell me.” He bit my shoulder, and sparks flew behind my eyelids.

  I could no more resist him than stop breathing, stop living. It was heaven and hell, good and evil, life and death, in a blessed mixture that made my heart ache.

  “The gods damn me, I love you, Ansel,” I whispered, my eyes closed, as he hung onto me with his teeth.

  I exploded as his still pumping hand drew everything out of me, my cream, my tears, his name. Gods, his name was music on my lips, and I sang it in a quiet hymn over and over as my body shook.

  He followed, exploding into me, in hot, hard pulses, filling me with his cream, and his back arched, carrying my body upward on his shaft. His hand, covered in my seed, let go of my cock, and his teeth released my shoulder to let his lips whisper my name and swear to me he was mine.

  I slid off him to lie on my belly, and he fell forward. Both unable to move, we lay where we fell, our bodies piled on top of each other. As dawn broke, red and orange streaks shot through the small, high window, and our breaths at last came easy, and our hearts beat in normal cadence.

  The room was silent, and the candle guttered out.

  Chapter Eight

  We rode to the keep and signed our names and our lives to Foray. As I had hoped, I was assigned as captain of a mounted troop and got my higher pay. Ansel was signed as a mounted soldier, but to another troop.

  Early that evening, I sat next to Jackson at the captain’s table in the keep where the duke was going over his battle plans. We sat and listened, twenty of Foray’s captains, to his strategy. It was sound enough, and for my part, I gave the information that Istend was conscripting men, a fact many took to mean the battle would go easier and faster with farmers and villagers to fight against. I knew Istend would have his share of worthy fighters, and no battle where there is killing is ever easy.

  As the meeting broke, Jackson stepped to my side as we walked to our tents.

  “And Ansel? Where is he?”

  I didn’t look at Jackson, just kept walking.

  “He rides under Edwin’s pennant.” Edwin was one of the other captains.

  “Edwin is a good man and experienced. Don’t worry, Ansel will do well.” He placed his hand on my shoulder as we reached my tent.

  “I’m not worried. I can’t afford to be, you know that; none of us can.”

  “Aye, true enough.” He paused, grinning at me. “How was the whore last night?”

  “Willing and sweet.” I grinned back at him.

  “And how was Ansel?” His lowered his voice and his eyes met mine.

  “The same.” I knew I shouldn’t have said it, should have said anything else, but at that point, I no longer cared if he knew; it was enough he suspected.

  “I thought he would be.” With a squeeze of his hand, he released me and strode away into the night.

  I bent, entered my tent and threw myself down on the bedroll. As I fought for sleep, I wondered why Jackson had been so accepting. Whatever the reason, I will always remember him for it.

  Thoughts of Ansel tortured me that night, and dawn broke too soon.

  •●•

  I lined my men, one hundred or so riders, along the backbone of a ridge overlooking a valley. A small, clear-running river ran through it, and on the other side were Istend’s forces, stretched out across the far ridge.

  It was midmorn and the breeze plucked at the pennants, making them whip in the wind. Shields ready and swords drawn, we waited for the command. The mounted would be first down the slope, followed by the foot soldiers. It was our job to clear a path through their horse troops to the rear lines and then either run over the men on foot with our horses or kill them with our swords.

  The worst of the battle would be fought by the foot soldiers, waiting behind us. Foray had gathered almost a thousand men, clearly outnumbering Istend’s seven hundred.

  Why Istend didn’t concede was beyond me, but then, it wasn’t my land I was fighting for. Foray claimed this valley as his and under his protection, and when Istend’s men had ridden over the hill a month before, looting and killing, there was nothing else to do but fight back.

  Treaty and negotiation hadn’t worked, so it had come to this. Foray had two hundred men of his own, and had managed to borrow and hire the rest. It seemed none of the surrounding dukes cared for Istend, or his habit of invading and plundering their neighboring dukedoms, and gladly sent men to fight against him.

  I watched the line to the east, where the signal would come from. Horses stamped and blew as we waited for the signal. Riding in front of the line, I, along with the other captains, incited the men, yelling, beating our shields with our swords, as the men picked it up. Their cheering and the sound from swords hammering shields grew as the entire ridge came to life.

  It came, a loud clear blast from a horn. I spun my horse, raised my sword, and gave the order to charge.

  Like a swarm, we poured down the slope, pounding the earth as we crossed our side of the valley. Istend’s forces charged a moment later, and we met, for the most part, at the shallow river.

  Horse was well trained and even more foul-tempered than usual. He ran into the first horse and man we encountered, knocking the beast to its side. The rider fell and was trampled by another of our riders.

  I found myself in the thick, swinging my sword from one side to the other, not caring about killing strokes, just making sure I struck meat, whether man or horse. In the battle, men fell around me,
including my own, but at last, we punched a hole in their line, and the foot soldiers poured through to the other side.

  There, our men divided, and we took on whom we could find as we found them.

  For my part, I steered away from the men on foot and engaged the riders, the more dangerous of the two. Istend had some good men, despite the conscription, and as I had thought, the battle wasn’t easy or short.

  By the third hour, I was weary. My sweat and the blood of my victims ran in my eyes, my shoulders ached from the weight of my sword, and my horse was blowing. It would be about time for the call to return and count the damages.

  There was no clear winner as far as I could tell. Istend’s forces, though not near as numerous as ours, were still present in numbers. The call came, three long blows on the horn, and we gladly spun and returned across the river to our ridge.

  No one followed, since Istend’s men were making for their ridge. When I reached the top and turned, the battlefield below was strewn with the dead and dying from both sides. In a little while, we’d send out men to retrieve the bodies, prisoners, and weapons, slay the wounded animals, and clear the field up to the river as best we could for the next day’s fight.

  At camp, I searched for Ansel. Going to Edwin’s tent, I found his men camped around him, their horses tied to a line. I spotted Ansel’s mare and relaxed, if only a small amount. He could have fallen, and they brought the horse back, or he could be wounded, or he could be alive and unhurt.

  I heard him call my name and turned. He strode to me, his leathers splattered with blood, as mine were, and stopped just short of embracing me. Black Brute followed his master, as always.

  “Good to see you made it, pup.” My shoulders slumped as the tension in them eased.

  “You too, old man.” Our eyes devoured each other, and they would have betrayed us to anyone who had taken the interest to see. All around us, men walked by, or sat near the fires, talked of the battle, tended wounds, and ate. We stood alone, yet surrounded. I held out my arm and he clasped it. We held on for perhaps too long, but then broke apart. The feel of his solid muscles under my hand would have to be enough.

  “See you tomorrow, pup.” Nodding, I gave my hungry eyes a last look at him.

  “Look for me.” His smile faded and his eyes held mine. “Promise me, Drake.”

  I swallowed down a ball of dread. “I promise, Ansel.”

  With that, he turned from me, and I from him.

  •●•

  The next morning, we gathered on the ridge. The morning was beautiful, and I thought it was a shame to waste such a fine day on killing. Then I roused my men to a fever pitch, and we poured, once again, down the slope to the river.

  In the first hour, things went badly. I was knocked from my horse by a rider whose horse fell against mine. Horse went down, but managed to rise unhurt. Landing face-first, I came up spitting sod, and luckily, wasn’t struck while down. Getting to my feet, I fought for long minutes on the ground, my sword singing its song of death. Horse danced away, but when there was a break, I bolted to him, leapt into the saddle, and continued to fight from his back.

  By the third hour of battle, the advantage had swung our way, and Istend’s troops were broken. Most of his mounted had been defeated, and his foot soldiers had either been killed or captured.

  We pushed them back to the far ridge; Istend and what was left of his men fled to their lands. Foray sounded the horn, and we returned to the valley to count our dead, collect prisoners, and retrieve the wounded.

  At the camp, I once again found Edwin’s tent and men. No bay mare stood tied to the line. Searching the men, Ansel was not there. I found Brute, waiting patiently for his master’s return, sitting on his bedroll.

  I called the dog to me and together we went to the ridge. My eyes scanned the carnage below, knowing I had only to canvass the fallen horses to find him. Whether dead or still alive, I would find him.

  The dog trotted ahead of me as I rode the field, first to one dead horse, then another. Any animal I found too injured, I killed with a quick stroke of my blade. I called for help for the wounded men I found.

  The sun was past high when I found Ansel, lying next to his dead horse. His eyes were open, and he lay in a large pool of blood, whether his or the horse’s, I couldn’t tell.

  I kneeled next to him and called his name. The dog lay down and rested his head on Ansel’s leg.

  Blue eyes closed, then opened and searched the air for my face.

  “Ah, Drake, there you are.” He smiled as he found me. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I promised I’d find you.”

  “So you did.” He took my hand.

  I pulled him into my arms, and my hands felt blood, warm and oozing from his back.

  “I can’t feel my legs, Drake.”

  The wound was at his spine, and I knew he’d been crippled.

  “Damn,” I whispered.

  “Damn.” His grip on my hand clenched harder. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Never.” I shook my head.

  “Promise me you won’t let the birds get my body.”

  “I promise. You’ll get a proper burial, my pup.” Looking into his eyes, I knew this was the last of him, and he knew it too.

  “Take my weapons and my dog.”

  “I will.” My vision blurred, and I swiped my sleeve across my eyes, not wanting to miss one moment of him.

  “Tell me again, before I go.” His voice broke when he saw the tears on my face.

  I pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. “I love you, Ansel.”

  “You are the only one I’ve ever loved, Drake.” His voice was so soft, if I had not had my ear near his lips, I would have missed his words. His firm grip on my hand lessened, his brilliant blue eyes closed, and I could feel his breathing slow, become shallow, and then falter.

  I held him to me until he was gone.

  I have no idea how long I sat there, on my knees, holding his body, unbelieving, willing him alive. Time ran on and I thought I too had died, because I stopped feeling. No wind ruffled my hair, no sun’s heat warmed my face, and no sounds met my ears. Without him, there was nothing, I was nothing.

  More time passed and I relearned how to breathe, still not understanding how my heart could beat on, when his had stopped.

  A heavy hand fell on my shoulder.

  “Drake.”

  Still I stared down at Ansel’s face, beautiful even in death.

  “Drake.”

  I looked up into Jackson’s face and blinked, seeing something for the first time in a long time.

  “He’s gone, son.” He squeezed my shoulder and kneeled next to me. His dark eyes held only kindness.

  “I loved him, Jackson.”

  “I know.” His quiet words were no surprise.

  “Do you understand?” I searched his face. What I needed was someone to understand, not to damn me. Ansel dead was damnation enough.

  “Did you think I’d never loved?” Jackson’s smile was rueful. “He was worthy of your love, Drake.”

  “I have to bury him.”

  “All right, I’ll take his legs, you his shoulders, and we’ll put him over your horse.” All the while, as he spoke to me, this mountain of a man’s voice was soft, comforting, yet somehow demanded response of me.

  I staggered to my feet, carrying Ansel’s shoulders. His head fell back to rest against my chest, and together we carried him to my horse and draped him over the saddle.

  Jackson, the dog, and I walked him up the hill, back down the road to Foray and to the small church there. I paid a coin for a cloth to wrap his body in, and another for the priest to say the words. Jackson and I took turns digging the grave.

  We laid him in the earth and, taking my last look, I draped his face with a corner of the cloth, and then we covered his body with dirt. The words were said, and it was done.

  Jackson waited for me under a tree as I stood silent, going over all my regrets.

  In th
e end, Brute had to be pulled from the grave, and I broke then, kneeling with my face buried in the dog’s thick fur as I wept. I, too, wanted to lie on Ansel’s grave and never move. I stood and the dog came to me, pushed his head under my hand for me to pet, and together, we made our way through the graveyard to Jackson, already on his horse.

  I secured Ansel’s weapons to my saddle, slung his sword over my back, and climbed onto Horse. We returned to Foray’s keep, collected our pay from the duke, and said our goodbyes.

  “Where go you, Jackson?” We sat our horses on the road just outside of the keep.

  “I go home, to Marden. Lick my wounds and take my rest. Would you come with me?” Jackson looked at me, his eyes filled with sadness.

  “No, I think I’m going to find a tavern and get very drunk for a very long time.” I tried a smile, but failed in the attempt.

  “Hoist a tankard for me in Ansel’s honor, Drake. Let me know where you land, send word to Marden.” He gave me a wave of his hand and turned his horse to the west.

  I headed eastward with no clear destination, accompanied only by an ill-tempered horse and a black dog, back down the long road Ansel and I had taken together to arrive at this place and our separate fates.

  Chapter Nine

  Brute growled.

  I opened my eyes and raised my head from the table, as I slid my hand off my thigh and reached for the knife hidden in my boot. I might have been drunk, but I still had my instincts.

  The man approaching me wore a tabard of blue and gray with an unfamiliar coat of arms embroidered on it.

  Official business, then. I slid the knife back into its sheath and sat up. Reaching for my tankard, I downed the last of the ale in it, rinsing my mouth of its film, and waited for the man to speak. Best not to appear too eager for work. Although over the last few months I had been busy, money was always welcome. Especially by the barkeep, who expected me to pay him for the ale I drank.