by Lynn Lorenz
The arrogance of the man boiled Peter’s blood. He reached up and shoved the man away. “The hell I will!”
Gareth threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing around the stable, stirring Peter’s erection back to life. How did the man do it? Make Peter want to fuck him and kill him at the same time?
He grabbed the pitchfork and used it to move hay to the horses’ mangers. Peter doled out the grains and filled the water troughs. When they’d finished, the air still hung thick and heavy between them.
Peter didn’t want to think about it at all. But the chores were done, and he couldn’t put off bedtime any longer. When they went back inside the lodge, he’d have to share the bed with Gareth and Arvel.
And the uncertainly of what would, what might, what he wanted to happen, scared him more than anything he’d faced in some time.
Chapter Twelve
Gareth chuckled at the man in front of him. A very handsome man. A soldier, well-built, strong. A man much like himself. Not the sort of man who usually caught his eye, but there had been something about him, even at the inn where he’d first seen him, that intrigued Gareth.
It was the look in Peter’s eyes. Haunted. Hurt. Perhaps as damaged as Arvel, but the nature of the pain he bore, Gareth couldn’t tell.
Oh well. Peter would be an interesting dalliance, to say the least. A man to test Gareth’s skills, his strength of will and seduction. A man who might not fall so easily to a more dominant man. That had been plain to see, since he’d protected Arvel.
Gareth grinned. What would it be like to overpower such a man? To make him submit to his desires?
Probably as good as it felt to tease him as he had earlier.
He followed Peter inside, shut the door, and dropped the bar into place.
“I sleep on the side nearest the door,” he said as he removed his scabbard and sword.
Peter halted and looked at him, then nodded. “As you wish.” They sat in the chairs again. Arvel wiped off his hands and came to them. He fell to his knees and first pulled off Gareth’s boots, then Peter’s, seeming as happy as a lark to care for the two men.
∙•∙
Gareth caught Arvel’s chin in his hand. “You’ll sleep in the middle?”
Arvel smiled and nodded. He leaned forward and offered his lips to his lover.
“Ah, pet, I never get my fill.” Gareth took Arvel’s mouth and drank from it. His member stirred in his breeches, filling, shifting, aching for his lover. He broke away and sat back.
Arvel leaned over to Peter, offering him a kiss also. Gareth’s belly tightened as he watched his pet encourage Peter. For his part, Peter glanced at Gareth as if to ask permission, so he gave the man a nod.
Peter wrapped his hand in Arvel’s hair, pulled him close, and they met, openmouthed, tongues tangling, in a kiss that made Gareth’s cock swell. Kissing Arvel had always stirred him, but seeing Arvel being kissed was something more, a new excitement he’d never experienced before.
He rubbed his hand over his rod as he watched.
Arvel was a beauty, how he gave himself to be loved and perfect in his submission. The way his body melted and his hands fluttered until they found purchase either in the sheets of the bed or the grass on the ground or even on Gareth’s body.
He loved Arvel and could deny him nothing. Not even another lover.
Arvel sat back, smiling. He placed a hand over his heart with his first finger held out and touched first Gareth.
“That is his sign for me,” Gareth told Peter. “First in his heart.”
Arvel repeated the motion, and this time his hand came to rest on Peter’s chest, with two fingers extended.
“Ah, Peter. That is for you. Second in his love.” Gareth nodded, looking pleased that Arvel had given Peter his own sign.
Gareth slapped his palm against his chest and then laid it on Arvel’s.
Peter did the same.
Arvel grinned, then took Peter’s hand and placed it on Gareth’s chest. Gareth put his hand over Peter’s heart.
Peter frowned, shook his head, and tried to pull away, but Arvel held him tight, staring with utmost concentration into Peter’s eyes, insistent and demanding.
Gareth laughed and pushed hard on Peter’s chest. He could feel the rapid pounding of the younger man’s heart, the sharp intake of breath, the muscles that flexed beneath his fingers, and knew he wanted more of Peter.
How much more would be up to Peter, Gareth’s skills at seduction, and time.
“Let’s to bed.” Gareth stood as Arvel let them go free. Peter remained seated, a look of confusion on his face. Gareth slapped him on the shoulder. “Come, man. Surely you’re not afraid of a bed?”
“It’s what’s in the bed.” Peter mumbled as he stood.
Arvel raced ahead of them, stripping off clothing, and naked, threw himself on the bed. He rolled onto his back, moving his body like a snake up the bed until his head rested on the pillow. Then he licked his lips and took his cock in hand and gave it a few strokes. Arvel innocent was heady—Arvel wanton was intoxicating.
Gareth roared, hands on hips, head back, at the deaf-mute’s behavior.
“Oh my pet. You tempt me sorely.” Getting out of his clothing proved quicker with such motivation. He crawled onto the bed and flopped on his back next to his lover.
Peter stood at the foot of the bed, shirt in his hand, breeches down around his ankles, staring at them both but lingering over Gareth’s body.
“Well, Peter. See anything you like?” Gareth cocked an eyebrow.
Peter blushed. “I can’t deny Arvel’s beauty.” He stepped out of his trousers and trews and dropped his shirt in the same pile, then came around the bed to his side.
“And what of me?” Gareth teased. Oh, he would enjoy this man, making him stutter and blush.
Peter rolled his eyes. “What of you? Think yourself so pretty?”
“Oh aye. I’m a right pleasant sight, so I’ve been told.”
Peter got in bed and lay back on the pillow. “By who? The local farmhands?” He snorted.
“Nay, nay. By better men than you, Peter the hunter.” He chuckled.
Peter rolled onto his side and stared at the wall. Arvel sat up, crossed his arms, and frowned at him. He gave Gareth a wink, full of mischief and humor, and then leaned down and bit Peter on the ass.
The ensuing yelp just made Gareth burst into laughter, filling the rafters.
Peter glared at Arvel, then him, then rubbed the bite. Arvel pushed his hand away and soothed it with his tongue. Peter groaned and pushed into what had now become a kiss.
Arvel kissed his way around Peter’s hip, pushing him until he lay flat on his back. Now Gareth had a perfect view of the man’s cock. Thick, straight as a rod, it peeked from its hood, leaking a string from tip to belly.
A belly covered in a soft trail of dark hair, unlike Arvel’s smoothness. Gareth’s fingers would tangle in that softness if Peter allowed it. But something told Gareth that Peter wouldn’t allow such a touch. Not now. Not yet.
He had time, and he was a very patient man when he set his mind to it.
And his mind was set on Peter.
»»•««
Good God, how did he get himself into this situation? In a large bed with two of the most desirable men he’d ever laid eyes on.
Peter had no clear answers, just a string of events that led him, like the most winding road, to this time and place.
One of the men made his skin feel warm and wet and—Oh hell, was that a nip? A shiver ran through Peter as Arvel nibbled him, catching skin between teeth, and then licking the sting away. With each kiss, he moved closer to Peter’s rod, standing straight up as if pointing to heaven.
Only Peter knew that way led to hell, but God forgive him, he didn’t care. Not right now. Not with Arvel’s mouth on him, edging closer, Arvel’s soft hand threading through the nest of curls at the base of his cock. Not with Arvel’s nose snuffling along as determined as any hunting dog to seek
out a bird in a bush.
Peter didn’t dare open his eyes. He knew what he’d find. Gareth staring at him. At them. And he refused to admit how much that excited him. Those clear blue eyes taking it all in, watching, darkening.
Arvel’s mouth surrounded Peter’s cock and sucked it down. Peter cried out, arching off the bed, but he couldn’t keep the thought of the other man observing his pleasure out of his mind.
To hell with him. Let him watch. Let Gareth know how Arvel pleased him. Aye, his pet pleased Peter. So, so much.
“Goddamn!” Peter groaned as Arvel cupped and rolled his stones in their tight sac. Pleasure shot through Peter as if he’d been struck by an arrow.
Arvel worked him up and down, his lips sliding over the skin of his rod with loud slurping noises, his own heavy panting and a soft moan from… Oh hell, was that Gareth?
Peter opened his eyes and turned his head. Gareth indeed watched them, his eyes dark blue and slitted, his hand pumping along his shaft, enjoying, nay, reveling in Arvel’s attack on Peter’s cock.
Under Gareth’s gaze, Peter’s release burst from him in a shocking series of pulses swallowed down by Arvel, forcing Peter’s eyes to shut, his back to arch, and his body to shudder.
“That was pure sweetness, Peter,” Gareth whispered.
Arvel moved to Gareth, pulled his hand away, and swallowed Gareth’s rod to the root. Gareth hissed, eyes rolling in his head. He reached out, wrapped his hand in Arvel’s tresses, and fucked into his mouth.
“God, aye, suck me. I’ve missed you so much, pet,” he whispered as he tenderly stroked Arvel’s shoulder.
Now it was Peter’s turn to watch, and although he felt a glimmer of embarrassment, it soon changed into arousal. No matter that he’d just spent himself, his cock revived as he took in the sight of Arvel servicing Gareth and the big man’s unmistaken pleasure.
Arvel stroked Gareth’s hip with one hand. The other played with his own cock as he licked up and down the long, thick length of Gareth’s manhood. And Peter had to admit it was a fine, beautiful manhood.
Their lover sped up, his red head bobbing up and down Gareth’s shaft until the big man cried out, hoarse and raw, with his completion. He relaxed into the bed, panting.
Arvel snuggled between them, his own cock still hard and stiff and so beautiful.
Gareth and Peter rolled toward him as if they were soldiers given an order.
“Now it’s time for you, eh pet?” Gareth cupped Arvel’s cheek, turned his face toward him, and took his mouth in a gentle kiss.
That left Peter to tend to Arvel’s rod, and he didn’t shirk at his duty. He spit into his hand, wrapped it around the younger man’s slender cock, and worked him.
∙•∙
Arvel groaned, a soundless rumble in his chest, and he grasped both Peter and Gareth’s arms. Gareth deepened his kisses, plundering the man’s mouth, controlling and taking, drinking from Arvel’s lips his nectar while Peter drove him on with his hand.
This was what he’d wanted from the first moment he’d thought of both Peter and Gareth together, pleasing him. Both his Hearts, using their mouths and hands and cocks to bring him to release.
Arvel’s body throbbed with need. He’d given to his men, and now he enjoyed them, as was only fair.
Peter stroked him, driving him on toward the cliffs of release as Gareth’s sweet kisses teased him. Almost too good to bear, this double pleasure.
He was the most fortunate of men. He had two lovers who wanted to share him without making him choose between them or fighting each other.
He’d seen how Gareth had looked at Peter and knew his Heart desired the other man, and he’d seen the glances from Peter to Gareth. Both men wanted each other but hesitated.
It would be up to Arvel to bring them together.
∙•∙
By the gods, it was a thing of beauty, Gareth on Arvel. Every nerve in Peter’s body burned with the heat of desire and lust. He’d never known that just watching could be so arousing, could draw him up tight and make him yearn for release again.
Who would win the race to Arvel’s completion? Gareth’s mouth and tongue or Peter’s skilled hands?
His grip tightened, flew faster, slick and quick over the velvet of Arvel’s rod.
Gareth licked and sucked and tongued the man’s mouth in a relentless drive.
Each of them demanded Arvel’s release.
With a strangled gurgle against Gareth’s mouth, Arvel came, and his cock spewed white lines over his belly, dripping down Peter’s hand. Gareth pulled away, and their lover fell back, limp, chest heaving. His cock shrank as Peter eased his pressure off, slowed down, and then at last, released him.
He curled onto his side, facing Gareth, and snuggled under the big man’s arm.
Peter rose, went to the washbowl, rinsed off his hands and then dried them. He gathered the quilt from the floor where it had slid, crawled into bed, and covered them all, moving tight to Arvel’s back. He wrapped an arm over his waist.
Gareth sighed, and Peter heard all it told him. Contentment, satisfaction, and happiness. He’d recognized it in his own sigh.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Gareth saddled his horse and rode into town for the things they’d need. Arvel and Peter stayed behind, Arvel to bake and Peter to chop wood to rebuild what had been used. Since Gareth had eaten at the lodge, once he reached the village, his only task would be to purchase what they needed at the shops and return home.
At the granary, he purchased two sacks of grain mixture for the horses that he tied over the back of his saddle, then added a small sack of oats and a larger one of ground flour for Arvel’s breads. Just the thought of those crusty delights made him smile.
Gareth stopped at a greengrocer, nothing more than a barrow filled with vegetables sitting outside a small cottage. There he selected enough potatoes, turnips, carrots, and beans to last a long while, even with two large men eating. Arvel had a way with a stew, and there was game enough in the woods.
The villagers greeted him in welcome recognition, but no one asked about his business any longer. He’d been in and out of the village for nearly a year and early on had explained his comings and goings with half-truths. Aye, he was indeed a mercenary. Aye, he was passing through on his way to a new hiring. And no, he preferred to sleep in the woods under the stars than in a bed.
After he’d gathered the goods, he mounted his horse, the day’s shopping strapped behind his saddle, and made his way back down the road. He passed the butcher’s and, lured by the thought of fresh chicken, he reined his mount to the side of the road but decided the price too dear. They’d have to make do with hares and deer for now.
He and Peter would need to bring down a deer and dress it. There’d be enough meat to last the winter if they managed to find a large buck. If they were fortunate, they’d add another rack of antlers for the lodge’s walls.
Taking his time, he searched the road in front and behind him, to ensure no one followed or watched him when he reached the path to the lodge. As the horse plodded along, his thoughts turned to Peter.
It had been just like Arvel to take to the man who’d rescued him. After all, he’d done the same with Gareth, hadn’t he?
And there was no doubt about Peter’s good looks or the strength of his body. Not tall but well-built and broad-shouldered, Peter had drawn Arvel to him like a bear to honey.
Now he wondered if Peter were the answer to his problem about leaving Arvel to earn his coin.
If Peter stayed with Arvel during his absence, then his sweet lover would have protection. Peter could go into the village, bypassing that gang of youths whose only pleasure came in bullying those weaker than them.
But if Peter stayed, it meant sharing his pet with another man. Not that it would be a hardship to share with Peter. Gareth liked the man and he couldn’t deny his enjoyment in watching Peter with Arvel. No, that had been evident to Peter and to Arvel.
At first he’d be
en surprised about Peter and Arvel, but then intrigued by the man.
His intrigue seemed to be growing, just as Peter’s attachment to Arvel seemed to grow, which set him to wondering about his own affections.
Fascination, interest, didn’t equal love.
Gareth loved Arvel.
Peter was another matter.
»»•««
Peter stacked the last of the wood on the pile. They’d have to find another downed tree or chop one down, but it had to be done. Arvel needed it, and for Peter that was enough of a reason. They could use one of the horses to drag it back, and with both men working, it wouldn’t take much time.
Because Peter didn’t really have much more time. The mission he’d been sent on should come above all else, even a lover’s needs. He’d have to slip away soon, do another search of the area, and patrol the border again in search of Weathers’ men.
He’d been thinking about their circumstances all morning as he swung the large ax. Gareth paid for certain goods, grain, hay, flour, and such, and hunted to bring in meat. But what if Gareth’s fears came true and he didn’t return from battle?
How would Arvel survive then?
What Arvel needed was to be self-sufficient. To grow his own food, perhaps a small vegetable garden and a coop of chickens for eggs and meat. He could even raise a pig or two, sell one, and slaughter the other.
Peter walked around the back of the lodge. The space between the woods and the building was large enough for chickens or a pen for a pig. He strode around it, taking in the surrounding glen.
More than enough room for a few rows of greens, and the opening of the glade would let in enough sun to help them grow. Surely Arvel had some experience with farm work, since he’d come from such a rural village.
Tonight, he’d speak with Gareth about his plans, see if the big man thought Arvel would be willing to do the work. It seemed that whatever Gareth said, Arvel agreed to.
