by Lynn Lorenz
Had Gareth told Arvel to give up Peter, Peter knew the young caretaker would have done so without question. Gareth loved, nay, adored Arvel, and Peter had no doubts that Arvel returned those feelings.
Peter sighed. To be loved by such a man as Gareth? It must be a comfort, and one that Peter would never know. He’d found love once with his wife—he couldn’t expect to find it again.
He found Arvel in the stables, tending his horse. For a little while, Peter watched as Arvel ran the brush over his mare’s flank, his hand following, smoothing and petting as he worked.
With Arvel’s back to him, Peter enjoyed watching the muscles of the man move under his thin shirt, his ass flex and shift, the quick toss of his head to move his hair from his face. A creature of beauty. A delicate thing Arvel was. A true treasure.
But not his.
Arvel belonged to Gareth, and Peter knew it. Knew that if Gareth hadn’t been of the mind to indulge his pet, Peter would be long gone. Gareth was a paid mercenary, used to having his own way, used to being just as much a soldier as Peter, and God knew, if Arvel had been his, Peter wouldn’t have been so generous toward Gareth.
Arvel stopped brushing and turned around. His face broke into a shy smile when he saw Peter leaning in the doorway. Dropping the brush to the ground, he moved toward Peter, hunger in his eyes.
Peter stepped inside, pulled the door closed, and shut out the bright light of day, bathing the quiet stable in shades of dark. Still, as he advanced, the light caught Arvel’s hair, giving the illusion of throwing off red embers.
He reached Peter, and Peter exhaled. He’d been holding his breath as he watched his lover advance. His lover for now. Their lover later.
∙•∙
Ah, he’s sought me out, has he?
His new lover, Peter, so shy and yet everything he desired he displayed on his handsome countenance. He looked up into Peter’s eyes, trying to tell him with a look he had no reason to hold back.
Perhaps he needed encouragement? Perhaps with Gareth gone he feared to take what he wanted?
No fear. He’d make sure that Peter got his heart’s desire, or at least his body’s, if that large bulge in Peter’s breeches gave him away. And such a delicious bulge it had been, and Arvel knew it would be just as good now.
He’d taken many a tumble in the hay of this stable with Gareth. His Heart could be taken with need anywhere, he’d learned, and he’d always answered that call. Now, it seemed, Peter called to him, and it was Arvel’s turn to answer this new lover of his.
∙•∙
Arvel stopped in front of Peter, looked up from under fiery lashes, and questions lurked in his lavender eyes. Peter reached out, wrapped his hand around Arvel’s neck, and pulled him in for a devouring kiss.
The younger man opened for him without request, submitting, inviting, and so delicious. Peter searched his mouth with his tongue, sweeping over Arvel’s tongue, claiming and mining that dark cavern.
Peter pushed, and Arvel stepped back until he came flush against the wall of the stable. Pressing his arousal into Arvel’s belly, he made his desires known. Arvel did not deny him but reached between them to loosen his strings and drop the loose linens he’d worn to work in.
Underneath, he was naked.
God, it sent shivers down Peter’s body from crown to toe and back again, a ripple of excitement and pleasure and anticipation. Then Arvel attacked Peter’s strings, pushed the leather open and out of the way, and before Peter could take a breath, Arvel had his hand wrapped around Peter’s cock.
Peter groaned. “Fuck, Arvel.”
Arvel spit into his hand twice, then ran it over Peter’s cock, slicking it, preparing it to enter his body. Then, as if he weighed no more than a feather, he climbed Peter, wrapped his legs around Peter’s waist, guided Peter’s throbbing cock to his entrance, and sank down onto it.
Head flung back, Arvel shuddered soundlessly.
Peter nearly came, it was so beautiful.
But he held off, grabbed Arvel’s ass in both hands, and began to thrust, pushing his lover against the wall, using it to keep them both upright. Arvel took Peter’s head in both his hands and stared into his eyes, searching, hunting for something deep inside.
“So good, pet.”
Arvel smiled and closed his eyes and offered Peter his throat. It was a slender column, much like his cock, light-skinned, so transparent Peter could see the faint veins underneath and the large one that carried his life’s blood.
Peter lowered his head and bit, nipping at Arvel’s throat. Clinging to it, he sucked up a mark for Gareth to see. He’d know Peter had fucked Arvel while he was gone, know that Arvel had come to him, not waited for Gareth.
That thought made Peter slam hard into Arvel’s ass, pumping his cock in again and again, each time deeper than the next, searching for that sweet bump that would send Arvel over the edge of the chasm and take Peter with him.
Peter angled his hips and thrust, impaling Arvel. Arvel bucked, arched, and sucked in a huge breath, telling Peter with his body that Peter had found the spot.
Another shudder took Arvel’s body, and he spouted, white ropes painting his belly, smearing between them as their bodies rocked and pressed. God, it was so breathtaking.
Peter’s stones rose tight to his body, and with a cry Peter erupted, filling Arvel’s tight channel. They clung to each other as their breath returned, and Peter slid from Arvel’s hot inner grasp. Peter lowered him to the ground as Arvel held on, arms snaked around Peter’s neck.
He nuzzled, his lips pressing kisses on Peter’s throat. He stepped away and smiled as he placed his hand, two fingers out, on his heart, then covered Peter’s. Peter returned the gesture as they gazed at each other in the dim light of the closed stable.
“Gareth should return soon,” Peter said.
Arvel grinned and nodded. He quickly found his linens, wiped off his belly, pulled them on, and tied them. He put the brush back on the ledge of the stall. Peter fastened his clothing, setting it all to right.
Taking Arvel’s hand, Peter slid open the door and came face-to-face with Gareth.
And he didn’t look happy.
Chapter Fourteen
“Arvel, pet, go inside.” Gareth’s gaze never left Peter’s. Arvel frowned, but he motioned to the horse. “Nay, I’ll see to him. Go on, go.” With a gentle push, he ushered Arvel out of the door and then shut it.
Peter refused to back down from this contest of wills. He’d done nothing wrong. Arvel had offered himself willingly.
“Did your journey to the village go well?” Peter asked.
“Aye, it did.” He motioned to the sacks strapped to the back of his saddle. “Help me with these.”
Peter moved to the other side of the horse, and as the leather thongs were released, he caught the sacks and lowered them to the ground.
“Flour and grains.” Peter leaned against the horse’s flank, never breaking eye contact with Gareth. The man might be larger than he, but he was a soldier also, and well skilled in the ways of a warrior.
If it came to a fight, he’d give a good showing.
Gareth loosened the last strap and heaved the sack to the ground. As he straightened, he narrowed his eyes at Peter.
“If you have something to say, say it.” Peter cocked an eyebrow at him.
Gareth’s jaw worked. “I can’t be concerned about Arvel each time I leave him with you.”
“You don’t have to be. He’s in good hands with me. I promise.”
“Too good, I fear.” For a moment, fear flashed across Gareth’s face, and it took Peter aback.
“You fear me?” Peter snorted. “You, who holds Arvel’s heart in his hand?”
“Do I?” Gareth broke their connection as he turned away. “You took him while I was gone, didn’t you?”
“Aye. He offered.” Peter saw no reason to lie. “Are we not to share? I understood it to be so. If not, just let me know, and I will make my bed elsewhere.”
Gareth
shook his head as if he didn’t believe Peter.
“You would give him up?” Now Gareth pinned him again with a hard glare as if trying to see the truth buried deep inside Peter.
“Arvel doesn’t own my heart, Gareth.” Peter smiled. “He is lovely, aye. But I do not love him, nor does he love me.”
“He wants you.” Gareth jerked at the cinch to loosen it.
“Aye. But wanting isn’t loving. That much I do know.”
“Aye, it’s not.” He pulled off the saddle and slung it over the side of the stall. “I shouldn’t be jealous, I know it, but I fear to lose him.” His eyes darkened as he ran the brush over his mount’s side. “It would be a loss too great to bear.”
“I know well of such a loss.” Peter picked up another brush and worked his side of the animal. “My wife died recently.”
“Your wife?” Gareth froze, brush in the air. “A marriage of convenience?”
“No, I loved her. She died in childbirth.” Peter continued brushing, this time avoiding Gareth’s gaze.
“Indeed. I’m sorry for your loss, both the wife and child.” He worked for a few minutes, then broke what had become a comfortable silence. “You haven’t always felt an attraction to men?”
“Nay. Aye. I’m not sure.” Peter shook his head and smiled. “As a youth, I had often thought about men but never took action. And when I met my wife, those thoughts vanished.”
“Love, eh?”
“Love at first sight, just as all the poets and singers tell of.”
“Was she beautiful?”
“Beautiful and kind. I could speak to her about anything.” Peter gazed into the dark corner of the stable. “We’d discuss matters for hours in the evening before going to our bed.”
“I’m not much for conversation.” Gareth shrugged.
“No surprise. You’ve chosen a deaf-mute for a lover.” Peter chuckled.
“Oh, but Arvel can talk! You should see him when he has much to say. All hands and arms and those eyes.” Gareth laughed, and Peter could see the warmth, the love the big man felt for their caretaker.
“Aye, I have seen him in such a way.” Peter put down the brush and stepped back as Gareth led the animal to its stall. After securing the gate, he returned to Peter’s side.
“Peter, if Arvel is willing, I will abide by his choice. He is free to be with who he wants. If it’s you or me or both.”
“Well and good.” Peter headed to the door of the stable. “And if you wish to be alone with him, let me know. I’m sure there is something I can find to occupy my time.” Peter paused. “For a few minutes.”
“A few minutes!” Gareth roared and advanced on Peter. “I’ll have you know, you pup, I was fucking men against a wall long before you’d had your first maiden.”
Peter backed away. “Just so. You’re older than me by many years, then. I’ll be sure to give an old man time to rest and recover.” Now Peter teased.
Gareth’s eyes glittered in the faint light, and Peter’s heart stuttered at the sight. He took another step back and hit the wall. There was nowhere left to go. And in two great strides, Gareth was on him, taking Peter by the wrists and pushing them against the wooden slats, using his body to pin Peter down. Peter’s heart hammered in his chest, and he could feel Gareth’s pounding just as hard.
“So I’m an old man, am I?” Gareth whispered as he pressed into Peter’s body. There could be no denying Gareth’s arousal—the evidence poked into Peter’s belly.
Peter raised his chin to look the man in the eyes. “Aye, by your own admittance.”
“And you but a pup?” Gareth’s whisper washed over Peter, arousing him.
“I’m no pup, Gareth.” The words should anger him, but Gareth’s playful manner only incited Peter’s lust. Fighting back, he ground his half-hard cock into Gareth, drawing a moan from the man.
So, he wasn’t the only one whose blood burned.
Then Gareth pushed back, and Peter thought he would release into his breeches, but he managed to keep his wits and his orgasm from escaping. Gareth excited him in a way no man, except perhaps Drake, had done in a long time.
Peter wanted Gareth. Wanted his mouth, wanted to know his taste and how it felt to have the man take him, much as he took Arvel.
Master Gareth, indeed. That thought was too dangerous to be let known. It would give Gareth the advantage, and for now, Peter needed to stand on a level field with him.
If Peter wasn’t careful, he’d be begging Gareth to fuck him, and if Peter could prevent it, he’d never let that happen. Share Arvel, aye. But to give himself to such a man, with Peter’s growing feelings about him, would be too dangerous and feel far too good.
When his mission was completed, he’d return to Marden and his position as second, and it would be the last he’d see of Marden Lodge, Arvel, and the man he might fall in love with if he weren’t careful.
∙•∙
Gareth looked down into dark eyes, and a hard tug ran from his chest to his cock. He wanted Peter. Wanted to watch Peter and Arvel together, making love. Wanted to take Peter as he took Arvel. Wanted both Peter and Arvel to pleasure him at the same time.
Good God, what was he thinking?
He loved his pet, and for Arvel’s sake he’d share if it would please his love, but he’d never thought to take Peter for his own.
Could he? Have both Peter and Arvel?
Two men?
Gareth’s heart thudded at the perverse and greedy thought. And although he had no idea why, he knew in his belly it would be good and right. The three of them a perfect triangle, bound together by their desires and love.
Yet Peter had admitted he didn’t love Arvel. That was understandable. Peter had lost his wife and was not willing or not ready to give himself to another.
But what did Peter feel about Gareth? He’d only shown any interest in Arvel, made no advances to Gareth, nor encouraged any.
Until now.
Now that Gareth had Peter pinned beneath him, feeling his erection digging into Peter, and Peter’s cock’s answer.
A hint of Peter’s beard showed dark along his rugged jaw. How very unlike Arvel’s smooth complexion, pale skin, and delicate features. Traits he’d always admired.
No mistaking, Peter looked a man, in every sense of the word. Even the scent that rose from the man’s body gave off a masculine mix of sweat and musk.
Peter’s eyes burned with desire and lust, dark and wide, asking him to go further in his advances. Pressing his advantage, his greater weight and strength, Gareth leaned down to take a kiss from those perfect male lips.
Peter turned his head, denying him a taste.
Gareth tried again, and Peter moved away. With both of his hands holding Peter down, he couldn’t let go and steady Peter’s head, clamp down on it, and take his kiss.
With a growl of frustration, Gareth tried again, but Peter raised his chin, and instead, Gareth’s lips found his throat.
Warm and soft and…Gareth licked a line up to Peter’s ear. Delicious. The man shuddered beneath him, hands clenched and straining against his hold.
“You marked my pet, and now I shall mark you as mine.”
∙•∙
Gareth lowered his head and bit down on Peter, just where neck and shoulder met, and sucked up a mark that had Peter whimpering and rubbing his cock against Gareth. The man held such power in his hands, and Peter felt it where they connected, a surge of lust that sent his body on edge.
He might deny it with his words, but his body couldn’t deny its reaction. The sac around his stones pulled tight, and the tingling began, signaling his imminent release.
As if he knew how close Peter had come, Gareth laughed, pushed off, and let Peter’s hands go. Peter slumped back against the wall, chest heaving, eyes half-closed, and cock throbbing.
“From now on, I think I shall call you sweetling.” Gareth flung open the door and strode out, his laughter echoing off the trees that surrounded the lodge.
Peter cla
pped a hand to his throat. It was still wet and hot where Gareth’s mouth had attacked him. His knees weakened, threatening to drop him to the floor, but he stiffened them, and after several gulps of air, he left the stable, trailing after the man who’d nearly made him shoot with a rough handling and a near kiss.
And if he had let Gareth kiss him and he’d come, how would he ever live it down?
Sweetling?
It would be a cold day in hell when Peter let that happen.
No matter how badly he wanted it.
Chapter Fifteen
Peter carried the sack of flour and oats inside and placed it on the table.
Gareth lounged in the chair by the fire, Arvel’s head on his thigh as he stroked his lover’s long red hair. They seemed to be having a quiet moment together, no words or hands, just a tender petting and…a belonging.
Peter wondered if he’d ever belong to anyone again as he’d once belonged to his beloved wife. That kind of belonging rarely came at all, much less twice.
He belonged to Marden and its lands as long as Logan held his oath. That would have to be good enough for him. Longing for more was pointless and wishing a waste.
Giving the men more time, Peter busied himself with storing the flour in the cupboard with the other supplies. Perhaps tonight he’d speak to Gareth about his ideas for Arvel. He glanced at the small stack of wood by the hearth and went outside to bring in more.
∙•∙
Gareth heard the door shut as he ran his fingers through his love’s silky hair and knew Peter had left to give him the opportunity to be with Arvel. Kind of Peter, really. And he wasn’t sure if he’d have done the same had their roles been switched.
But he was alone with Arvel now, and there was nothing he loved more than just being with this sweet, kind person. Someone he surely didn’t deserve, if his past were taken into account.
He’d not known much happiness in his life. Most of it he’d spent just trying to stay alive, fighting on the battlefields, tending wounds and such. Until he’d met Arvel, protecting him from those stupid villagers who thought just because a man couldn’t speak or hear he was useless, a creature to be scorned and pitied.
