by Lynn Lorenz
Will wouldn’t change his life, even though there had been times when his life seemed bleak, with no hope of ever finding love, and he thought he might give it up, marry, and leave the dark path he walked.
“But…” Raf seemed to be at a loss. “This may be my only chance.” His eyes implored Will as he took a tentative step toward him. “I still want you.”
Will knew that with a word he could have taken the young man, bent him over the table and fucked him, or unlaced his own strings and had Raf on his knees in front of him—but he felt no desire, no arousal for the young man.
If he owed Jackson anything, it was certainly this. He shook his head. “I won’t be the one, Raf. You’re better off never going down that path than to be damned to follow it.”
He turned from Raf and walked out of the barn.
Jackson scowled as Will approached, his eyes burned with anger and jealousy. Will felt a twinge of satisfaction. Jackson cared, whether he’d ever admit it—he cared about what had happened between Will and Raf in the barn.
That knowledge Will could treasure. Whatever Jackson’s reasons for leaving him, whatever he did or didn’t say, Jackson’s eyes had told the truth.
»»•««
They had almost reached the mountain pass when it began to snow. Light flakes dusted them, almost too sparse to really count as a snowfall. Will looked up at the tops of the mountains as they traversed the pass, saw light snow covering the peaks, and he shivered at the thought of being stuck up there. Both he and Jackson were silent. He had no wish to talk and Jackson’s anger still sat between them, solid and heavy like some huge beast.
They came out of the pass just before dark and searched for a place to camp. On this side of the mountains, forested foothills rolled and the road twisted its way through them.
“This is as good a place as any to stop,” Jackson announced. It was a small copse of woods and offered some shelter. They found a spot where the branches of the trees hung low and thick enough to offer a dry place. They unsaddled the horses and Jackson placed the saddles under the branches then spread his bedroll on the ground. Standing outside, they shared the last of the bread and cheese and drank from Jackson’s water skin.
“Go in first, my lord.” Jackson stood back to let Will under the branches.
Will rolled under and onto his side, facing away from the big man. Jackson crawled in beside him and tossed his blanket over Will and his cloak over himself. They lay awake without speaking. Outside, the horses stamped and blew in the cold. Will watched their long legs and hooves moving just beyond their makeshift bower. Now and then, a soft muzzle cropped the sparse grass, then disappeared from sight. Snow built a light layer on the ground.
At last, Will whispered, “I never touched him.”
Jackson was silent, then with an exhale he said, “Come here, my lord.” He pulled Will into his arms, snugging his back against his chest. Both men fell silent as they settled into their positions. Jackson raked Will’s hair from his neck to kiss it. Will moaned at his lips’ touch. Jackson deepened his kisses, his tongue laving Will’s throat, teeth nipping at the cords in his neck, as his hands roved over Will’s flank to his ass. He pulled Will tight against him, his hard rod pushed into Will’s backside.
Will slid onto his stomach and Jackson threw his leg over Will’s legs, taking care not to press too hard on Will’s ribs. His hands meshed with Will’s pulling them up over his head. Pinned, Will’s hips shifted beneath Jackson to find comfort from his growing erection.
Jackson’s hands released and he pulled Will’s shirt over his head, then his own. They lay bare chest to back as Jackson resumed his kisses. Biting Will’s shoulders, neck, sides—Jackson allowed his mouth to roam over Will’s torso. Will, lost in the feelings, drifted in a cloud of contentment. This is what he’d wanted—to feel the weight of Jackson on top of him, his lips on his skin, his hands touching him, and all of it leading up to the moment when Jackson would fulfill his promise to take him.
“I mean to fuck you, Will. Take off your breeches.” Jackson’s voice rumbled in his ear. Will’s eyes shuttered at the thought.
Jackson rolled off Will long enough for him to unlace and shuck off the rest of his clothes. Finally naked, Will lay beneath him, Jackson’s cock pressed into the valley of Will’s ass, promising more. Jackson resumed his lips’ attack as his hands twined in Will’s long hair.
“God, I love your hair. Don’t ever cut it.”
“I will wear it long for you always,” Will whispered.
Kneeling behind Will, Jackson searched through his saddlebag. Covering his hands in oil, he massaged Will’s ass, his fingers slipped between the firm globes and plowed the furrow between them, inciting Will. As one finger ringed his hole, Jackson’s other hand held his shoulder. Will’s desire to be taken surged.
Jackson paused long enough to loosen his strings and push down his breeches to free his cock, took it in his hand, and stroked it, spreading oil over its great length. He guided it to Will’s opening and pressed it in.
Will’s eyes flew open as he gasped. Rising up on his forearms, he spread his legs farther apart. Jackson entered him with slow and careful motions, taking care not to hurt him. It was pain, pleasure, damnation, everything Will had wanted from Jackson. The man was huge.
“Damn, you stretch me to my limits,” Will cried out. His ribs ached, but he did not intend to ask Jackson to stop.
“I mean to have you, my lord. Can you take me?” Jackson growled.
“Aye, anyway you want to give it to me, I’ll take you.”
Jackson shoved it in with a hard thrust, his hands on Will’s shoulders.
“God’s tears,” Will hissed as pleasure and agony exploded through him.
Jackson rode him, each thrust forcing a soft moan from Will. The big man picked up his speed, pumping hard and fast, as Will took what he gave.
“Oh, God,” Will moaned. “This is what I wanted, Jackson. I’ve waited so long.” Jackson’s cock slid in and out of his ass, sending pleasure arching through his body, to return and focus its power on his straining rod trapped beneath his body.
“I have waited also, my lord.” Jackson pushed up on his hands—his knees pressing into the bedroll, his boots digging into the earth as he fucked Will. Will leaned back into Jackson’s strokes, losing himself in their lovemaking.
His own cock throbbed with the need to spill, but he held back. He wanted to feel Jackson take him in his mouth, but first he wanted to feel Jackson shoot inside him.
All the pleasure seemed to ride in one spot, concentrating the pain and ecstasy into one blended sensation. This sweet agony he could endure forever. Jackson might leave him, but no matter what happened between them, Will would have this moment, this taking. This time made all the other times so plain, so emotionless, so empty.
Will’s love for Jackson made the difference.
Jackson had never felt this before, this burning need to make a man his, to completely dominate and own him, to make Will swear himself to him.
As he surged in and out of Will, Jackson wondered how he could ever bring himself to leave Will. Now, the thought of returning to Baymore became something he wasn’t looking forward to, and at this moment, he didn’t care if he ever reached it if he could just be with Will this way.
Jackson closed his eyes, let those thoughts go, and opened himself to what his body felt. He’d never, even on the battlefield, felt this kind of power surge through his body. Taking Will made him feel more of a man than anything he’d ever experienced, and it was a feeling he wanted to enjoy the rest of his life.
Will’s tunnel tightened around Jackson’s cock as he surged in and out, sending sparks shooting behind his eyelids. No matter how hard he tried not to cry out, Jackson couldn’t keep his soft moans from escaping. His thrusts increased as he pounded Will, riding him hard, until he felt his release coming.
“Damn you, Will,” he cried. “This is so damn good.”
“I’m yours, Jackson, you
know that. Now and always,” Will rasped.
“My Will.” Jackson fell onto Will’s back and wrapped his arms around him, pumping hard and fast, his sac thudding against Will’s. Jackson’s mind lost control and some primal force took over.
His lips kissed Will’s turned cheek as his hand pushed the long hair from Will’s face. He pulled his tongue across that softly bristled face as Will’s beautiful eyes shuttered. “God, you’re so beautiful, my lord.” Jackson’s voice dropped even deeper.
“Jackson, fuck me!” Will’s hand reached around to hold Jackson’s hips, his fingers digging into the tight flesh of Jackson’s ass. Will’s body rocked with each thrust.
“You are mine!” Jackson exploded, his hot cream filled Will, his body taut with his release, his boots digging deep into the moist earth beneath them.
Will felt Jackson’s final hard thrust and the warmth of Jackson’s cream spill inside him. His own release surged, but he held it back, grinding his cock into the ground.
Jackson collapsed, lying across his back, taking great shuddering breaths of air into his lungs. Will felt the slow lessening of Jackson’s cock until it slipped away. Freed, Jackson rolled off Will and pulled him over into his arms.
“In almost forty years of life, I’ve never said this to another,” Jackson whispered, looking into Will’s eyes. “I love you.”
“I loved you the moment you cut the rope round my neck and held me in your arms,” Will said.
They kissed, slow and tender, as Jackson wound his hands in Will’s hair and bent his head to the side. Will felt that tongue lap at his throat.
God, there was nothing better than being in Jackson’s arms. They’d declared their love. Jackson would never leave.
Jackson’s kisses moved to Will’s nipples, as his hand searched for and found Will’s straining cock. Tonight, Will wanted more than Jackson’s hand.
Will moaned. “Take me in your mouth. I want your lips and tongue on me.”
“As you command, my lord.” Jackson obliged him by shifting to Will’s side, bending over his hips, and taking his swollen rod into his mouth. Will felt the surge of his release and pushed it back. If Jackson’s hand had worked wonders, his mouth worked miracles.
Will thrust deep into Jackson’s mouth and that marvelous tongue swirled around his shaft. Arching his back off the blanket, Will’s hands reached for Jackson’s head as he held on.
“Swallow me,” Will gasped. His release was gaining strength and he knew he’d shoot soon. The sensation was stronger than any he’d felt.
Jackson’s head moved up and down as Will watched him take his cock. His sac hardened, pulling tight to his body, as Jackson’s hand massaged his stones. It was more than Will could stand as the pressure rose in him to shoot upward.
“Here it comes,” he cried. “Suck it all down, my love.” Will came, thrusting, pulling Jackson’s head down, and spilling his cream down the big man’s throat.
Jackson swallowed, gulping down the hard spurts that hit the back of his throat. God, Will’s taste was delicious—musky, salty, yet sweet. Jackson drained the cream from Will’s cock.
He sat back as Will tried to catch his breath, his chest heaving.
“Damn, I’ve been well fucked and sucked.” Will gave him that lopsided grin that Jackson loved.
“The taking was sweet, my lord.” Jackson stretched out next to him, his hand on Will’s chest, his fingers moving through its light hairs. “Did I hurt you?”
“God, no.” Will rolled toward him and kissed him, then lay back in his arms.
“Sleep now, my lord.”
“We’ll reach my home by tomorrow evening, Jackson.” Will’s voice was soft and sleepy.
Jackson grew quiet. He’d have to leave Will then. That was something he didn’t want ever to do, but he had to if he wanted a life with Will.
Will’s eyes closed, his breathing became slow and regular, and at last, Jackson heard his soft snore.
Jackson looked up at the canopy of branches and leaves above them. It was snowing harder. He pulled the blanket over them, and thought about what awaited him in Baymore.
Chapter Six
Late the next afternoon they crossed the stone bridge over a narrow river and entered the town of Holcombe. Following the road through it and five miles beyond, they arrived at a good sized keep. Grey stone walls rose above the ground for thirty feet and the great outer doors stood open. Jackson spotted several armed men patrolling the keep’s parapet.
“This is my home,” Will announced as they stopped just at the bottom of the hill and looked up at the keep.
“It is a fine place, my lord.” Jackson nodded. He’d suspected that Will was of noble blood—all the evidence had pointed to it. Now, he had confirmation.
How would Will be received and for that matter—how would he? Right now, he had no claims to nobility—was merely a rough, simple man, plain spoken, but with manners enough. However, he’d been around enough lords to know not all held common men in much esteem and bastards even lower.
They approached the gates. A man on the wall called out, “Lord William, is that you?”
“It is and I bring a friend.” Will waved.
After a commotion of shouts behind the wall, a man ran out to greet them. He was almost Will’s twin, they were so alike in the face, but Jackson could tell he was older. Will’s brother had hair to his shoulders and was more muscled than Will.
“Will!” he shouted, his arms held out. “Where the hell have you been? We’ve feared for you.”
Will dismounted, tossed his reins to Jackson, and then greeted his brother.
“Wallace!” They embraced and Will was held out for inspection.
“Damn, Will, what happened?” Wallace stared at his brother’s face. The dark bruises had faded but the black threads of the stitches stood stark against his skin.
Jackson waited for Will to explain. He’d either tell the truth or some form of it. As for Jackson, he knew what he’d say if asked.
“I ran into some trouble, brother.” Will grimaced. “Where is Father?”
“Inside.” Wallace’s eyes narrowed at Jackson, then darted to the great sword across his back. “Who is this? A friend, you said?”
“This is Jackson. He rescued me from my attackers.” Will smiled up at Jackson. “May I introduce my brother Wallace, the Lord Marquess of Holcombe.”
Jackson slid off his horse and joined the brothers. “My Lord Marquess, Will had been attacked by thieves. They beat him and stole his purse.” That should be safe enough.
“Great gods!” Wallace’s eyes widened. “Are you well?”
“Aye, well enough, thanks to Jackson.”
Wallace stepped forward and extended his arm. “My thanks for helping my brother.” Jackson took his arm, clasped it, and then released.
“I found him near dead. We had to wait while he regained his health, then we made for your keep,” Jackson explained, hoping there would be no more questions. If there were, he’d leave them for Will to answer.
Grooms ran out to take their horses to the stables. Before they led his mount away, Jackson removed his saddlebag and slung it over his shoulder.
“Come in, Jackson. The hospitality of our home is yours.” Wallace swung open the great door and they stepped inside.
“It’s good to be home, Wallace.” Will rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
The hall was large and welcoming—its walls displayed the skins of bears and deer, along with many sets of antlers. Jackson had been in rural hunting lodges before, and this had that look, only larger and better kept.
A fireplace occupied the center of the outer wall and a quartet of chairs had been pulled up in front of it. An older man sat in one of the chairs. “Will, is that you?” he called out, extending his hand.
“Aye, Father.” Will strode to him, kneeled, took the elder man’s hand, and kissed it. Pulling Will’s hand to him, his father returned the kiss, then reached out to touch Will’s face.
“It’s my Will. Son, it’s good to have you home.” His fingers danced across Will’s face and he frowned. “But, what’s this? Stitches? Your face is hurt—I can feel the swelling.”
“I was robbed and beaten. I lost my purse. My friend here, Jackson, helped me recover my weapons and my ring, and to heal enough to travel home.”
Jackson watched the man turned clouded, unseeing eyes on Will. Healthy in all other aspects, only a few lines creased his face and his thick grey hair was pulled back in a long tail. Jackson judged him to be early in his sixth decade.
“I worried so about you. I feared the worse when you didn’t return.” He stroked Will’s arm. Jackson could see the love on his face.
“Without Jackson it might have come true. Jackson, this is my father, His Grace, the Duke of Holcombe.”
“Come to me, Jackson. May I touch your face?” Gentle command softened his voice.
“Aye, my Lord Duke.” Jackson came forward and kneeled on one knee in front of Will’s father, who reached out and touched Jackson’s chest, then grunted. Raising his hands higher and stretching them wider, he felt shoulders, neck, and at last, gently touched Jackson’s face, feeling the slightly crooked nose, broad forehead, and strong square chin. Lastly, his fingertips brushed over his lips and eyes.
“You are a big man and well put together, Jackson. You’ve a strong, honest face to match your good heart, I believe.” Walter rested his hands in his lap and smiled.
“I should always be seen by hands,” Jackson said with a laugh. “Not many have said I’m well put together.”
Jackson caught Will’s gaze, agreement and more in his eyes.
“I understand I’m to thank you for saving my son. He is of great worth to me and I love him more than life.” The man reached out, grasped Jackson’s hand, and gave it a strong squeeze.
“It was my honor, Your Grace, to meet him.” Jackson got to his feet.
“I suppose you men are hungry?” a soft voice inquired from behind them.
